Deconstructing Imperial

Representation
Tacitus, Cassius Dio, and Suetonius
on Nero and Domitian

By

Verena Schulz

LEIDEN | BOSTON
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Schulz, Verena, author.

Title: Deconstructing imperial representation : Tacitus, Cassius Dio, and Suetonius
on Nero and Domitian / by Verena Schulz.
Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, 2019. | Series: Mnemosyne supplements ;
volume 427 | Includes bibliographical references and index. |
Identifiers: LCCN 2019016574 (print) | LCCN 2019019833 (ebook) |
ISBN 9789004407558 (e-book) | ISBN 9789004407213 (hardback : alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Rome–Historiography. | Tacitus, Cornelius. | Cassius Dio
Cocceianus. | Suetonius, approximately 69–approximately 122. | Nero, Emperor
of Rome, 37–68. | Domitian, Emperor of Rome, 51–96.
Classification: LCC DG205 (ebook) | LCC DG205 .S349 2019 (print) |
DDC 937/.030922–dc23
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Für meine Eltern

∵
Contents

Preface xi

Introduction: Content and Purpose of This Study 1

Part 1
Constructing the Emperor in Historiography and Panegyric

1 Texts and Stories: On ‘Dinners with the Emperor’ 11

1 An Example: Constructing Imperial Dinners 11
2 Ingredients for a Good Imperial Dinner 16
3 Critical Texts: Digesting Bad Dinners 20
4 Conclusions Drawn from This Case Study 29

2 Theory and History 33

1 Imperial Representation: Nero and Domitian 33
2 Discourse and Deconstruction 38
3 Literature and Persuasiveness 46

Part 2
Tacitus: Deconstruction and Uncertainty

Introduction to Part 2 53

3 Imperial Representation and Topics of Deconstruction 55

1 Military Actions: From Peace to Inactivity, from Victory to
Hypocrisy 55
2 Building Endeavours: From Construction to Destruction 64
3 Public Entertainment: From Popular to Eccentric
Performances 69
4 Nero’s Speeches: Gaining Rhetorical Power 76
5 Divinity: From God-Like to Unhuman 79
6 Atmosphere: From Golden Age to the Dynamics of Bad Times 88
viii contents

4 Strategies of Deconstruction in Tacitus 94

1 Overview: How to Deconstruct Imperial Representation 94
2 Negative Connotations: ‘Facts’, Additions, and Foils 95
3 Causation and Character 109
4 New Forms of Logic 123

5 Creating Uncertainty 130

1 Tacitus and Theories of Uncertainty 130
2 Playing with Variants 133
3 Playing with Oppositions 149
4 Uncertainty and Interpretation 159

Conclusion to Part 2 164

Part 3
Cassius Dio: Deconstruction and Typologies

Introduction to Part 3 169

6 Writing Historiography under the Severans 171

1 The Roman History and the Early Third Century 171
2 Imperial Representation in the Roman History 182

7 Strategies of Deconstruction in Cassius Dio 188

1 Negative Connotations 188
2 Persuasive Characters 198
3 The Rhetoric of Combination 215
4 Selection and Focus 226
5 Spoiling the Atmosphere 245

8 Deconstruction and the Construction of Memory 249

1 Typologies of Bad Emperors 249
2 Hot Memory: Why Nero and Domitian? 254
3 Genealogies versus Typologies 261

Conclusion to Part 3 264

contents ix

Part 4
Suetonius: Deconstruction and Entertainment

Introduction to Part 4 269

9 Biography and Eccentric Representation 271

1 Structure and Criticism: Current Debates on Suetonius 271
2 Rubrics and Representation: Fragmentation and
Re-contextualization 273

10 Strategies of Deconstruction in Suetonius 278

1 Historiographical Techniques in Imperial Biographies 278
2 Suetonian Techniques: The Effect of Rubrics 298
3 Ambivalent Techniques and a Weaker Form of
Deconstruction 318

11 Deconstructed Elements and Miscellanism 340

1 Beyond Tacitus and Cassius Dio: Suetonian Deconstruction and
the Historiographical Discourse 340
2 Between Pliny the Elder and Aulus Gellius: Suetonian
Deconstruction and the Non-historiographical Discourse 342

Conclusion to Part 4 355

Part 5
Conclusion

Three Modes of Deconstruction 361

Appendix: Deconstruction and Rhetorical Strategies 367

Bibliography 374
Index Locorum 397
General Index 405
Preface

This book presents a lightly adapted version of my Habilitationsschrift, which

was accepted by the Faculty of Languages and Literatures at Ludwig-Maxi-
milians-Universität München (LMU Munich) in April 2018. I would like to
thank all members of my Habilitation committee for their careful reading of the
Habilitationsschrift and for providing valuable comments: Martin Hose, Dennis
Pausch, and Martin Zimmermann, who also supported me as mentors during
the whole process of Habilitation; Bardo M. Gauly and Alain M. Gowing, who
served as external reviewers; and the anonymous reader of Mnemosyne Sup-
plements.
This book has benefitted from important feedback on individual chapters by
my colleagues and friends Casper C. de Jonge, Brandon F. Jones, Stefan Merkle,
Bianca Schröder, Janja Soldo, Elke Stein-Hölkeskamp, and Claudia Wiener. I
have also had the chance to draw on several research groups and networks
to develop my ideas: I would like to thank the members of the German DFG
research group on “Mediale Diskurse römischer Herrscherrepräsentation” and
in particular Sophia Bönisch-Meyer, Lisa Cordes, and Therese Fuhrer, for inspir-
ing workshops; all doctoral and postdoctoral members of the research group
“Organisation of Memory and Forgetting” at the Munich Graduate School for
Ancient Studies Distant Worlds for interdisciplinary perspectives on the topic
of memory; and the international research network “historiai” for illuminating
the relationship of history and philology. I am grateful to Orla Mulholland who
has copyedited the English manuscript, and to Giulia Moriconi at Brill for their
professional support in producing this book. It is a topos, but a true one, that
all remaining errors are my own.
A number of fellowships have given me the time to focus on this book and
the opportunity to present and discuss my ideas at institutions other than my
home university LMU Munich. I am deeply indebted to the funding bodies that
provided a Junior Researcher Fund, a Mentoring Programme Grant, a Research
in the Humanities Fellowship (all LMU Munich), a Teaching Staff Mobility Pro-
gramme Grant to Aarhus in Denmark (ERASMUS), a Fellowship for Young
Researchers at Vandœvres-Genève in Switzerland (Fondation Hardt), and a
Scholarship to present research abroad (DAAD). I am grateful to all the hosts of
my visiting research fellowships, who welcomed me warmly and helped me to
start, continue, and finish this project: the University of California at Berkeley;
Princeton University; and the University of Washington, Seattle. The Nether-
lands Institute for Advanced Study in Amsterdam was the ideal place to finalize
this book.
xii preface

This book is dedicated to my parents for their continued interest in the

places and times to which I travel and for their loving support over the last
decades.

Amsterdam/Munich, February 2019

 introduction

Content and Purpose of This Study

The combination of political leadership and eccentric behaviour is not only a

modern phenomenon. Nor has the question of whether too much power leads
to madness been raised only in our own times.1 When we think of powerful indi-
viduals in important political roles who overstep moral boundaries, transgress
social norms, and present themselves in eccentric ways, the Roman emperors
inevitably come to mind. Nero’s eccentricities may be the first we think of, since
they have also become a topic of popular culture: most people probably know
Nero the artist-emperor (as pictured in the movie Quo vadis?) who sang to his
lyre while Rome burned.2 The historian Tacitus says that this was a rumour,
but, after reading his text, we are still inclined to believe that the mad emperor
really sang. Thus in 2016 Nero was still considered a suitable object of detailed
psychiatric analysis.3 The common Roman people, at least, are often said to
have enjoyed his transgressive behaviour and artistic performances. But, when
the historians and Suetonius mention Nero’s popularity with the people, this
hardly sounds like a compliment. Is it just the intellectual elite that denigrates
those in power who behave differently than expected? The emperor Domitian,
who was the second Roman emperor to suffer official damnatio memoriae and
who ended the Flavian dynasty, raises similar questions.4 He may be less pop-

1 The usual term to describe this connection between power and madness is Caesarenwahn-
sinn. The concept became popular through Ludwig Quidde’s short study on Caligula. Quidde
1894, 20 contends that the ancient texts contain “in allen wesentlichen Zügen trockene his-
torische Wahrheit”. He claims that Caligula suffered from a mental illness, the madness that
is produced or supported by monarchical power. The symptoms are, according to Quidde:
senseless luxury, esp. with regard to dinners and buildings; craving for military triumphs; long-
ing for self-representation in public performances; cruelty; thinking of oneself or presenting
oneself as divine. Quidde, who was winner of the Nobel Peace Prize in 1927, directed this
depiction of monarchy and madness against the contemporary German Kaiser Wilhelm II,
cf. Yavetz 1996, 118–119; Holl et al. 2001. On Caesarenwahnsinn from a modern psychological
perspective see von Zerssen 2011.
2 Cf. the illustration in Elsner 1994, 119.
3 See Aschauer 2016 who reads Suetonius, Tacitus, and Cassius Dio in order to analyse Nero’s
psychological disposition. He also undertakes a medical and psychiatric case-history of the
whole Julio-Claudian family.
4 On Domitian and his ending of the Flavian dynasty see Charles 2002, 48–49, who points out
that Domitian’s later reputation might have been completely different had he not been the
last of his line. See also p.45–46.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004407558_002

2 introduction

ular today than Nero (and has not yet found his Peter Ustinov to portray him),
but he is an equally ambivalent and opalescent figure.
This study asks how, i.e. by which literary strategies, Roman historiography
and biography created the negative images of Nero and Domitian that have
been so persuasive and successful that readers are still disposed to trust them
today. It does not inquire whether the historical Nero and Domitian really were
mad. Tacitus, Cassius Dio, and Suetonius employ several rhetorical devices in
order to criticize forms of imperial representation they deem unacceptable.
Since this critique is directed against—existing or potential—positive or neut-
ral images of emperors and discourses about imperial representation, we can
understand it as a form of deconstruction.5 ‘Deconstruction’ in this sense not
only builds on the reaction to a previously constructed image of the same
emperor, but also aims for a new, different construction. It is thus a creative,
literary process which can be analysed from a philological viewpoint. With
Tacitus, Cassius Dio, and Suetonius’ deconstruction of imperial representation
we capture three moments in the dynamic negotiations over the emperor’s
image that were conducted between himself and the elite.6 In the broadest
sense, this study is about the function of critical literature within this process
of shaping images of the princeps in the early and high Roman Empire.
This book offers an innovative, and philologically and critically grounded,
approach to ancient historiography through a particular combination of au-
thors and subjects. It brings together three high-profile authors who are linked
by their representations of two controversial and intrinsically fascinating em-
perors. In doing so, three aspects stand out. First, by uniting interpretations
of Tacitus, Cassius Dio, and Suetonius, whose literary techniques are not often
discussed together despite the obvious overlap in subject matter, I offer the
first combined reading of the works of these three authors from a philological
point of view.7 Second, my analysis of these texts aims to stimulate new views
and to offer innovative interpretative strategies to readers of otherwise well-
worn texts. These strategies may well find applications in reading other texts
and authors beyond the present study. Third, I focus on two emperors whose

5 For the theoretical background see p.38–46.

6 In his analysis of Trajan’s imperial representation Seelentag 2004 also underlines that the
image of an emperor is never the final result of negotiations between him and his people, but
always both the product of ongoing negotiations and the basis for future ones.
7 The brief study of Heinz 1948 about the image of Nero in Seneca, Tacitus, Suetonius, and Cas-
sius Dio has to be considered outdated. Heinz reads Tacitus as characterized by a “Bestreben
nach objektiver Geschichtsforschung” (Heinz 1948, 134) and Cassius Dio’s books on Nero as
“Produkte eines fanatischen Rhetors” (Heinz 1948, 135). He detects differences among these
four authors only “im Kleinen” (Heinz 1948, 134).
content and purpose of this study 3

treatment in the historiographical and biographical texts has a lot in common.

The book is thus aimed not only at philologists, but will also allow historians to
study passages on Nero and Domitian more thoroughly in the literary context
of each work.
Nero and Domitian are especially suitable for this study of historiographical
deconstruction because their historical and panegyrical representation was,
in very different ways, transgressive and, in parts, eccentric and innovative.8
They were both praised for it during their lifetime, but each died an unnatural
death and suffered memory sanctions. There is almost no middle way between
praise and critique in texts about Nero and Domitian.9 They ended the first
two dynasties, the Julio-Claudian and the Flavian. The new dynasties, under
Vespasian and then Nerva and Trajan, mostly distanced themselves from their
predecessors, who were from then on exempla of ‘bad emperors’ in the official
imperial discourses. Everything that they had done could now be framed neg-
atively. As negative exempla they played an important role in the development
of the principate. Their history taught that within the system of the principate
(i.e. without returning to the Republic), liberty could be achieved under a good
emperor, even after a bad one.10 In these parallels between Nero and Domitian
and in other structural similarities regarding the five Julio-Claudians and the
three Flavians, the Flavian dynasty can even be conceived as a short reprise of
the Julio-Claudian dynasty.11
The texts we need for a study of Nero and Domitian and their representation
have been transmitted relatively well.12 The point of reference of deconstruc-
tion, namely the positive images of Nero and Domitian that were developed in
official and unofficial media of representation, have attracted a lot of scholarly
attention, which has provided a good starting point for this study.13 Strategies of
creating distance from the panegyrical literature on Nero and Domitian in later

8 Cf. Bönisch-Meyer et al. 2014a, 445–448.

9 For the one exception—a merely dull Domitian in Jewish-Christian literature—see p.46.
For an ambivalent reading of panegyrics see also p.39–40, for Suetonius’ (partly) positive
reading of Nero and Domitian see p.318–338.
10 See Gowing 2005, 153: “But eventually, after Nero or Domitian, libertas could be seen as
something that had been gained.”
11 See Boyle 2003, 5–6.
12 The number of texts (both panegyrical and historiographical) available for a study of
eccentric emperors is thus much larger for Nero and Domitian than for Caligula, who
would be another princeps suitable for an analysis of the deconstruction of imperial rep-
resentation.
13 For Nero’s and Domitian’s imperial representation cf. Bönisch-Meyer 2014b. For Neronian
and Domitianic panegyric cf. Schubert 1998, Newlands 2002, Nauta 2002, Cordes 2017; see
also Mause 1994 for the emperor in Latin panegyric in general.
4 introduction

non-historiographical literature have also been analysed.14 The historiograph-

ical and biographical texts at the centre of this analysis are Tacitus’ Annals (sup-
plemented by passages from his Histories and Agricola), Cassius Dio’s Roman
History, and Suetonius’ Lives of the Caesars. These authors have influenced our
image of the historical Nero and Domitian enormously, yet they have never
been the topic of a single philological analysis treating all three together. I
have used a broad concept of ‘historiography’ and included Suetonius in this
analysis, since biography also participates in and is closely linked to the histori-
ographical discourse.15 Not only is the biographer used as a source by ancient
and modern historians,16 but the genres of historiography and biography also
merge: Tacitus explains events by the personality and character of an emperor,
and sometimes interrupts the annual order typical of annalistic historiography;
Cassius Dio’s imperial books have been characterized by his device of “bio-
structuring”.17 Both in Tacitus and Cassius Dio the focus on individual emperors
brings historiography close to biography, blurring the distinction of the two
genres that is finally abandoned in the later Historia Augusta. In addition, nar-
rative passages in Suetonius (e.g. death scenes) come close to historiographical
accounts. We will thus have to analyse how Tacitus’ and Dio’s deconstruction
of imperial representation is both similar to and different from Suetonius’ bio-
graphy, and this confrontation of historiography proper and biography will
prove highly instructive for the whole study.

14 In her study of panegyrical literature under Nero and Domitian, Cordes 2017 takes a semi-
otic perspective on panegyric codes that are re-coded after the emperor’s death. She
analyses such processes of re-coding Nero’s representation in the poems of Statius and
Martial, and of re-coding Domitian’s represention in those epigrams of Martial written
under Nerva and Trajan (Mart. 10–12), in Pliny’s Panegyricus, the Octavia, and Juvenal’s
Satires 4 and 10.
15 For the close connection between biography and historiography especially in relation to
Suetonius see Bradley 1985, 264, who considers biography “in a broad sense a form of
historical writing”, and Power 2014a, 1–2, who regards both the terms ‘historian’ and ‘bio-
grapher’ as neither satisfactory nor incorrect in the case of Suetonius. However, for ancient
texts underlining the difference between historiography and biography see Polyb. 10.21
(pointing out the difference between historiography, which follows the truth, and bio-
graphy, which is allowed to and has to idealize); Nep. Pelopidas 16.1 (on vitam narrare vs.
historiam scribere); Plut. Alex. 1 (according to whom historiography tells of great deeds,
while biography illustrates character).
16 Cf. Gascou 1984, 803. Gascou 2001, 164 has pointed out the paradox that on the one hand
Suetonius never wanted to be seen as a historiographer and never intended to write his-
toriography. In antiquity, he was understood as a biographer only. On the other hand, he
does provide his readers with historical information and included in large parts the mater-
ial that a historiographer would also have presented.
17 See Pelling 1997, esp. 117–125.
content and purpose of this study 5

When looking at deconstruction of imperial representation as an import-

ant literary strategy in Tacitus, Cassius Dio, and Suetonius we will have to
take the whole corpus into account in each case, complementing the findings
derived from the depiction of Nero and Domitian by looking at the depiction of
other emperors too. This will require different approaches for the three authors,
whose texts have been transmitted in very different ways: Tacitus’ description
of Nero’s times in the Annals is incomplete, his books about Domitian’s reign
in the Histories are lost; Cassius Dio has mainly been preserved by Byzantine
excerpts and epitomai; Suetonius’ Lives of the Caesars are (almost) complete.
In all three cases, the text on Nero is much longer than the text on Domitian,
which is why Nero in some parts of this study receives more attention than
Domitian. Tacitus, Cassius Dio, and Suetonius deal with different periods and
different emperors. The Annals, the Roman History, and the Lives of the Caesars
are quite distinct from each other: they are, respectively, a Latin senatorial his-
toriography of the early second century, a Greek senatorial historiography of
the third century, and a Latin collection of biographies of the early second cen-
tury written by a scholar.
What is more, the three authors have attracted different scholarly atten-
tion in recent times. The literature on Tacitus is abundant; my analysis of the
deconstruction of imperial representation in his work can draw on a variety
of books and articles written about Tacitean style and rhetoric.18 The Annals
(and occasionally other Tacitean works) are thus suitable as a starting point
for this analysis: part Two of this book presents the deconstruction of imperial
representation from two perspectives, namely the topics of imperial represent-
ation and literary strategies of deconstruction. The specifically Tacitean mode
of deconstruction will be analysed as one that leaves the reader to some degree
uncertain and disconcerted. The historian Cassius Dio, on the other hand, is
rarely read as a literary work, but mostly as a source for historians, although
recent years have witnessed an increasing interest in his Roman History.19 Part
Three will therefore analyse the deconstruction of imperial representation in
Cassius Dio in the broader context of the rhetorical and narratological fea-
tures of the whole work, and will examine its relevance to the political and
literary situation under the Severans. The biographer Suetonius has received
more attention than Cassius Dio, but less than Tacitus. Research on his sys-
tem of rubrics, by which he structures his material, has been conducted mostly
from a historical, not a philological viewpoint.20 Part Four will investigate the

18 See e.g. Woodman 1988, 160–196; O’Gorman 2000.

19 See e.g. Kemezis 2014; Lange/Madsen 2016; Fromentin et al. 2016.
20 See e.g. Gascou 1984; for philological studies of Suetonius cf. Lounsbury 1987; Pausch 2004.
6 introduction

relationship of this system of rubrics with the historiographical deconstruction

of imperial representation. In doing so, we will analyse Suetonius’ work in the
context of both historiographical and miscellany literature.
These three core parts on individual authors each consist of three chapters.
Each part starts with an introductory chapter (chapter 3, 6, and 9).21 It is fol-
lowed in each case by a chapter on the strategies of deconstruction deployed
by the author (chapter 4, 7, and 10). The focus will be on Nero and Domitian,
but, to show that these strategies are applied throughout the work in question,
other text passages will be taken into account too. The final chapter in each
part studies the techniques of deconstruction from a broader perspective and
in the literary context that is decisive for each author, for which reason they
include material that extends beyond the treatment of just Nero and Domitian
(chapter 5, 8, and 11). Despite the parallel design of these parts, the chapters
do not all offer the same kinds of information, but rather that which is needed
to illustrate the mode of deconstruction in each author. For Cassius Dio, for
example, we will need to know more about the difficult transmission of the
text and about the author’s contemporary era than for Tacitus; in the case of
Suetonius, generic questions are more to the fore.
Consequently, parts Two to Four, on individual authors, bring out three idio-
syncratic and specific modes of deconstructing imperial representation, and
can also be read independently by readers interested in a specific author. The
book aims to understand the work of each author as a whole, far more than to
conduct direct comparisons of single parallel text passages. Such direct com-
parisons of passages are offered only occasionally and in chapter 1 as a more
general introduction to the issues addressed. Chapters 10 and 11 compare the lit-
erary techniques of the biographer Suetonius to those of the historians Tacitus
and Cassius Dio.22 And the last part of the book brings all three authors together
directly.
Part Five summarizes the differences in approach of the authors and the
three modes of deconstruction of Tacitus, Cassius Dio, and Suetonius. An
Appendix points out their shared common ground, namely ancient rhetor-
ical strategies, and is based on the textual analyses undertaken in chapters 3
through 11.
Before we turn to the three different ways of deconstructing the imper-
ial representation of Nero and Domitian in historiography and biography (in

21 Chapter 3 is on Tacitus but introduces the topics of imperial representation and decon-
struction in a more general way.
22 For a direct comparison of the historiographical texts with Suetonius see, in particular,
p.334–338.
content and purpose of this study 7

parts 2 through 5), the first part focuses on the construction of imperial images
in both critical and panegyrical texts. Part One aims to illuminate two main
arguments of this book, namely that literary images of emperors are artfully
constructed in very diverse ways, and that the texts that criticize an emperor
treat mainly the same topics as the texts that applaud the emperor, but re-
interpret them. Part One is in two chapters: chapter 1 starts medias in res and
shows by the example of passages about imperial dinners how the image of
the emperors Nero and Domitian is constructed positively in panegyrical texts
and deconstructed in critical historiography and biography; chapter 2, based
on this analysis of textual dinners with the emperor, outlines the theoretical
and methodological approaches employed in this study.
 part 1
Constructing the Emperor
in Historiography and Panegyric

∵
 chapter 1

Texts and Stories: On ‘Dinners with the Emperor’

1 An Example: Constructing Imperial Dinners

1.1 Literary Stories of Nero’s and Domitian’s Dinner Parties

At the beginning of this book I would like us to enjoy a proper meal with Nero
and Domitian, including delicious livers of scar-fish, brains of pheasants and
peacocks, flamingo tongues, and innards of lamprey.1 Depending on which tex-
tual version of these imperial figures one visits for dinner, and depending on
who wrote the text about which particular experience of dining, the textual
feasts will be very different. Let us first accept a dinner invitation to Suetonius’
Nero. If we are lucky we will be invited to his newly built Golden Palace,
the domus aurea (Suet. Ner. 31.1–2), an enormously large building including a
large lake, several fields, vineyards, pasture, woodland, and baths. Everything
is covered in gold, and decorated with jewels and mother-of-pearl. When we
enter one of the banqueting halls we will see that their ceilings are coffered
with revolving ivory panels and with pipes. This technology makes it possible
to scatter flowers and spray perfume from above (cenationes laqueatae tabulis
eburneis versatilibus, ut flores, fistulatis, ut unguenta desuper spargerentur, Suet.
Ner. 31.2). If we dine in the principal banqueting hall we will find ourselves
in a round room with a dome, revolving continuously day and night, just like
the world (Suet. Ner. 31.2). Suetonius does not tell us what kind of dishes his
Nero served, but literary accounts of feasts in Neronian times, such as those of
Seneca, Petronius, Persius, or Lucan, might let us hope for oysters, sea urchins,
and the aforementioned flamingo tongues.2
If per chance our social status is too low or if we are not close enough to
the emperor to be invited to his palace, there will still be the opportunity for
public dining together with Cassius Dio’s Nero. He has Tigellinus, prefect of the
Praetorian Guard, organize a costly and lavish banquet for the people. It takes
place on an artificial lake with a platform in the middle, and taverns and booths
(καπηλεῖα καὶ οἰκήματα ἐπεποίητο, Cass. Dio 62.15.3). While Nero and his entour-

1 This list of delicacies is inspired by Suet. Vit. 13.

2 There is nothing about Nero’s dinners in these contemporary authors, although they were
close to the emperor and probably dined with him several times (cf. Stein-Hölkeskamp 2002,
17), but the topic of dining in general is widely developed in Neronian literature.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004407558_003

12 chapter 1

age are in the middle, the rest of the guests enjoy the taverns. There is even
access for men of all orders to brothels, in which they can choose a woman of
any social order, who is not allowed to refuse (Cass. Dio 62.15.5).3
If, however, we have a closer relationship with the emperor, we may attend
a family dinner of Tacitus’ Nero. Usually, Tacitus tells us, the emperors’ chil-
dren and other young nobles sit on their own, in sight of their relatives but
at a table that provides a more frugal dinner (propria et parciore mensa, Tac.
Ann. 13.16.1). However, Tacitus’ Nero has his stepbrother and potential rival
Britannicus poisoned at such a dinner (Tac. Ann. 13.16.1–4). Those guests who
understand that Nero has murdered Britannicus—first of all Agrippina, Nero’s
mother, and Octavia, Nero’s wife and Britannicus’ sister—do their very best not
to show it. So it only commands a short moment of silence and then the joy of
the banquet recommences (ita post breve silentium repetita convivii laetitia, Tac.
Ann. 13.16.4).
Most people would probably prefer another kind of feast, and may like to
dine with Statius’ Domitian instead. We have a literary version of both a pub-
lic feast (Stat. Silv. 1.6) and a private dinner at his palace (Stat. Silv. 4.2). Sta-
tius depicts a feast for the whole city and people of all orders in Silvae 1.6.
It takes place in the Colosseum4 during the carnivalesque festival of the Sat-
urnalia,5 and includes food, drinks, gifts, and various forms of entertainment
such as a gladiatorial spectacle, performances by women and dwarfs, and arti-
ficial illumination at night. Part of this “atmosphere of abundance”6 portrayed
in the poem is the special distribution of edible gifts (Stat. Silv. 1.6.9–27). There
is a rope extended high above and stretched across the amphitheatre from
which sweetmeats, the so-called missilia, fall down, brought from everywhere
in the Empire: nuts from the Pontus, dates from Palestine (quicquid nobile
Ponticis nucetis, / fecundis cadit aut iugis Idymes, Stat. Silv. 1.6.12–13), damsons
from Damascus (quod ramis pia germinat Damascos, Stat. Silv. 1.6.14), figs from
Caunus in Asia Minor (et quod percoquit ebriosa Caunos, Stat. Silv. 1.6.15), bis-
cuits and pastries in the shape of human figures (molles gaioli lucuntulique, Stat.
Silv. 1.6.17), apples (and pears) from Ameria (et massis Amerina non perustis,
Stat. Silv. 1.6.18), must-cakes, and more dates (et mustaceus et latente palma /
praegnates caryotides cadebant, Stat. Silv. 1.6.19–20).

3 For the banquet of Tigellinus in both Cassius Dio and Tacitus see 23; 25–26.
4 Newlands 2002, 228 is sceptical about the identification of this amphitheatre with the Colos-
seum. Cf. also Vössing 2004, 467.
5 On the merry and inebriated atmosphere of the Saturnalia, the Roman festival of social inver-
sion, chosen as setting for this poem cf. Nauta 2002, 398 and Newlands 2002, 227.
6 Nauta 2002, 399.
texts and stories: on ‘dinners with the emperor’ 13

By contrast, there are no details of the menu in Statius’ depiction of the

more private dinner at Domitian’s new palace on the Palatine, to which the
poet claims to have been invited (Stat. Silv. 4.2). The focus in this poem, which
is about a feast for senators and knights, but without the Roman plebs (hic cum
Romuleos proceres trabeataque Caesar / agmina mille simul iussit discumbere
mensis, Stat. Silv. 4.2.32–33), is on the sacral aura of the emperor (Stat. Silv.
4.2.14–17; 38–45).7 The speaker of the poem does not talk to the emperor, but
he observes and describes elements of the dinner: the emperor has set a thou-
sand tables for his guests (Stat. Silv. 4.2.33); Ceres and Bacchus themselves serve
them (Stat. Silv. 4.2.34–37).
Who would not prefer this kind of dinner to the ones described by Pliny the
Younger in the Panegyricus? In Pliny’s description of Domitian’s feasts (Plin.
Pan. 49.6) the emperor’s position is isolated. Pliny claims that Domitian has
a proper private meal earlier in the day and alone (solitaria cena, Plin. Pan.
49.6). When he finally comes to dinner, full and belching (distentus/plenus;
eructans, Plin. Pan. 49.6), he provides the hungry people only with poor food,
which he would not touch himself. Pliny’s Domitian merely simulates a com-
munal dinner and can hardly bear it (aegre perpessus superbam illam convictus
simulationem, Plin. Pan. 49.6). In fact, he is only there to watch and spy (spec-
tator adnotatorque convivis tuis immines, Plin. Pan. 49.6), and leaves as soon as
possible to indulge secretly in gluttony (ad cladestinam ganeam occultumque
luxum, Plin. Pan. 49.6).
These two Plinian reproaches—Domitian eats alone, and Domitian comes
to dinner only to watch—reappear in Suetonius and Cassius Dio: Suetonius’
Domitian seems to prefer to eat alone, but is less mean than Pliny’s version
of the emperor (Suet. Dom. 21). He eats so much for luncheon that he is com-
pletely glutted (prandebatque ad satietatem, Suet. Dom. 21) and barely eats and
drinks anything for dinner. His banquets are numerous and generous (conviv-
abatur frequenter ac large, Suet. Dom. 21); but they usually end early (paene
raptim, Suet. Dom. 21), before sunset, and they are not followed by a drinking
party (nec ut postea comissaretur, Suet. Dom. 21). Instead, Suetonius’ Domitian
goes for a walk on his own in a secluded spot.
Cassius Dio’s Domitian, by contrast, enjoys company for dinner, albeit in a
very perverse way. Like Pliny’s Domitian he considers his guests to be objects to
observe. He invites senators and knights to a funeral banquet which aims, or at
least so it is depicted, to provoke mortal fear (Cass. Dio 67.9.1–6).8 He prepares

7 Cf. Nauta 2002, 392 about Domitian figuring as “another object of visual wonder”.
8 For a detailed discussion of this funeral banquet see Schulz 2016, 286–292.
14 chapter 1

an Underworld-like room that is completely black with black furniture. His

guests arrive at night and without companions. There are gravestone-like slabs
with the names of the guests on them and lamps such as one finds in tombs.
Actors appear as ghosts, dance, and sit down at the feet of a guest. There are
also sacrifices for the dead set before the guests, who fear, tremble, and expect
their immediate death (ὥστε καὶ φοβεῖσθαι καὶ τρέμειν καθ’ ἕκαστον αὐτῶν πάντας,
ἀεί τε ὅσον οὐκ ἤδη σφαγήσεσθαι προσδέχεσθαι, Cass. Dio 67.9.3). Dio’s Domitian
then talks only of death and slaughter. When the guests are dismissed, they
are accompanied by one of Domitian’s people. At home, after a short break
from fear, a messenger arrives from the emperor. He does not, as they expect,
kill them, but provides them with presents, namely the gravestones, the dishes,
and even the actor who had played the guest’s spirit.

1.2 The Social Function of Roman Imperial Dinners

In these diverse literary stories about the commonplace situation of the imper-
ial dinner, Nero and Domitian are presented in different roles. Whether their
depictions create a positive or negative image is easy to recognize, even for
the modern reader. But in order to understand how exactly such an affirmat-
ive or critical portrayal of the emperor is constructed in the text we have to be
aware that a dinner in Roman antiquity was a social phenomenon that could
incorporate both virtues and vices.9 Feasting was a communal activity, no mat-
ter whether it was organized in public or more privately.10 Public feasts for all
orders and sexes were held during the games, in the theatre, or in the circus,
and during festivals throughout the city.11 A more private occasion for dinners
were those given in the emperor’s palace (or banquets held for the emperor).12
These were still not private dinners in the modern sense, but they created a
possibility for the upper classes to get into relatively close contact with the
emperor.13 The distinction of public feasts for everyone and private dinners

9 For a brief overview of recent works on food in general, from semiological, socio-historical,
cultural, and socio-anthropological perspectives see Gowers 1993, 5–6. Roller 2001, 129–
173 analyses Roman imperial dinner parties as regards the ruler-aristocrat relationship in
terms of exchanging gifts.
10 For feasting as a communal activity see Braund 1996, 37–40. Vössing 2004, 272–273, is help-
ful for terminology: convivium/convivari may take place in the emperor’s palace or outside
it; epulum and cena are more often used for public feasts; sportula and cena recta differ
only in the size of the portion provided.
11 Cf. Goddard 1994, 69.
12 Cf. Goddard 1994, 72.
13 Cf. Vössing 2004, 534.
texts and stories: on ‘dinners with the emperor’ 15

for the upper classes already suggests that convivia were organized in accord-
ance with social hierarchy, and so represented and confirmed social order.14 We
can understand banquets as social performances similar to festivals, in which
an emperor’s representation can be perceived by a large group of people face
to face. As in many other situations, the emperor has to cope with a paradox:
he is expected to display equality with his subjects but is in fact the only one
allowed and empowered to organize public and private feasts of this kind.15
The potentially hierarchical institution of the banquet is used to exhibit equal-
ity. This paradoxical situation, in which the emperor communicates that he is
equal although everybody knows that he is not, is characteristic of the political
system of the Roman principate.16 The banquet is a perfect opportunity for and
a complex form of imperial representation.17
During a dinner the princeps was expected to display two main virtues, lib-
erality and commensality, by which he could demonstrate a good relationship
with his subjects.18 Liberality or generosity (liberalitas) could be shown by the
food and drinks provided and by the setting or surroundings of the feast, for
example an appealing programme of entertainment. Modern studies follow
Paul Veyne in referring to this largesse to the Roman people as ‘euergetism’.19
A certain amount of luxury and extravagance was needed to fulfil this expect-
ation, but there was no clear definition that distinguished adequate profusion
from eccentric lavishness. This was a thin boundary that was open to debate, as
we will see. Moreover, generosity had different grades depending on the social

14 This is one of the most important aspects of Roman banquets, which is often underlined.
See e.g. Goddard 1994, 69–70; Roller 2001, 135; Vössing 2004, 538; Rühl 2006, 329.
15 Cf. Nauta 2002, 395 for the ideology of the common meal.
16 See e.g. Rilinger 1996, 132. This is why communication has become a central topic in studies
of the principate. Emperors who manage this difficult situation and double-sided commu-
nication are usually considered ‘good’ by the elite (e.g. Augustus, Trajan); emperors who
fail (e.g. Tiberius in Tac. Ann. 1.11–12) or do not accept (e.g. Caligula, see Winterling 2012,
95–98; 115–120; 175–180) these forms of communication are judged to be ‘bad’. Cf. Witschel
2006, 93–94.
17 That public feasts were an important political instrument for the emperor can also be
deduced from Suetonius’ discussion of Nero’s and Domitian’s ‘monopolization’ of feasts.
Nero is said to have cut back the luxury of his fellow members of the elite, who could not
provide publicae cenae anymore, but only sportulae, an action that Suetonius mentions
among Nero’s positive deeds (Suet. Ner. 16.2). This form of public feasting by the higher
orders was later abolished by Domitian, according to Suetonius (Suet. Dom. 7.1). For cenae
publicae and sportulae publicae under Nero and Domitian see Vössing 2004, 281–284.
18 Cf. Goddard 1994, 70–71, who mentions the virtues of liberality, generosity, commensality,
and comitas.
19 See Veyne 1990, esp. 347–377; cf. Newlands 2002, 231.
16 chapter 1

status of the recipient. To confirm social order, everyone had to be treated

according to their position. The second virtue expected of the emperor con-
cerned his behaviour towards his (or the other) guests. The emperor was sup-
posed to display comitas and conviviality; that is, he was expected to eat, drink,
and converse amicably with his guests, and to show himself as a friend espe-
cially to the senators.20 In addition to a pleasant room and exquisite dinner-
couches, high quality food, and good entertainment, an ideal dinner entailed
friendly service, agreeable conversation, and opulent presents.21
A dinner or feast presented an excellent opportunity for imperial self-fash-
ioning. Poets and historiographers accordingly created textual dinners to de-
pict and evaluate imperial representation. In ancient Rome, how one ate and
drank was generally considered an index of one’s character.22 For the emperor,
the way he ate and drank and the kind of dinners and feasts he provided were
indicators of how he understood his role as emperor and his regime.23 For
this reason Suetonius is very interested in the emperors’ eating and drinking
habits (e.g. Suet. Aug. 74–77; Tib. 42; Dom. 21). When he records that Augustus
claimed that he ate only figs and second-class bread we can read his low culin-
ary demands as a symbol of his low demands on the state’s resources.24 The
dinner or feast is thus often a condensed way to represent the whole regime:
Trajan as a good ruler also has a laudable attitude towards feasting;25 descrip-
tions of tyrannical meals can be read as symbols of a particular ruler’s abuse
of power.26 The panegyrical and the critical versions of Nero’s and Domitian’s
dinners draw on this same set of ideas and ideals about the emperor’s social
behaviour.

2 Ingredients for a Good Imperial Dinner

We can distinguish stories about Nero’s and Domitian’s dinners by the way the
emperor’s behaviour is evaluated. There are two different modes of speaking
about dinners and other forms of imperial representation: simply, a panegyr-
ical discourse praises the emperor, whereas a critical discourse assesses the

20 Cf. Newlands 2002, 261; Stein-Hölkeskamp 2002, 22.

21 Cf. Vössing 2004, 471; 534–535.
22 Cf. Goddard 1994, 68.
23 Cf. Goddard 1994, 68; Braund 1996, 51–52.
24 Cf. Gowers 1993, 21.
25 Cf. Braund 1996, 49–51.
26 Cf. Braund 1996, 46–49 on the tyrannical meal as “one specific manifestation of the abuse
of power”.
texts and stories: on ‘dinners with the emperor’ 17

emperor in a negative way.27 When we analyse the textual examples given

briefly at the beginning of this chapter from the viewpoint of the social func-
tion of Roman imperial dinners, we may characterize texts of the panegyrical
discourse by certain recurring themes: the emperor displays luxuria, liberalitas,
a positive aura or atmosphere, and divinity. As the topic of imperial dinners was
not developed in the Neronian panegyrical discourse, at least not in the texts
that have come down to us, we have to focus on Domitianic literature.28 It is
nonetheless important to include Nero in this discussion of imperial dinners
in chapter 1 because this will help us to see that the strategies of the critical
texts are not the same for each emperor. They are rather chosen and applied
with an eye to each emperor’s alleged personality.
To start with luxuria,29 dinner luxury may pertain both to the food and
drinks and to the setting of the dinner party. Extravagance and lavishness are
framed positively in panegyrical texts. We find many examples in Statius. The
abundance of a feast organized by Domitian is compared to the Golden Age
under Saturn in Silv. 1.6.30 The food, as mentioned above, comes from far-off
regions of the Empire (Stat. Silv. 1.6.12–20).31 The description of Domitian’s
imperial luxury (Stat. Silv. 4.2.10–12; 26–31) brings out the excellence of his
palace and his dining-room full of marble and gold, which are also signs of
his divinity.32 Two strategies in the panegyrical texts support this praise of
luxury by suggesting a positive reading. First, the emperor’s luxury during his
feasts is balanced with his contrasting personal modesty. Statius describes both
Domitian’s generosity (Stat. Silv. 4.2.33–37) and his modesty (Stat. Silv. 4.2.42–
44).33 And second, it is closely connected with the idea of euergetism (Stat. Silv.
4.2.32–37).

27 For the theoretical background of ‘discourses’ see p.38–43.

28 There are no panegyrical texts on Nero’s feasts. For his dining-rooms in the domus aurea
and his palace on the Palatine see Vössing 2004, 341–345. If we believe the critical texts in
their description of Nero’s extravagant feasts, we can at least state that he did not invent
them, but was following the example of his predecessors (cf. Goddard 1994, 68 on the his-
torical Nero).
29 luxuria is a metaphor from organic growth, cf. Gowers 1993, 13.
30 Cf. Nauta 2002, 399.
31 This passage also mentions flamingos. Seneca criticizes the eating of special parts of an
animal only (and not the whole animal), especially of flamingo tongues, as perverse lux-
ury (Ep. 110.12; cf. 78.24; cf. Stein-Hölkeskamp 2002, 11). Statius may be reacting to such
forms of criticism by having Domitian provide the people with (whole) flamingos, which
may thus seem luxurious but not perverse.
32 For Stat. Silv. 4.2 see Cordes 2017, 36–41.
33 Cf. Nauta 2002, 396. For Domitian’s modesty see also Mart. 4.8.10 (ingentique tenet pocula
parca manu); Stat. Silv. 5.1.121 (dapes modicas et sobria pocula). For Augustus see Suet. Aug.
76.1.
18 chapter 1

Imperial euergetism—being munificent towards the people and showing

liberalitas—is displayed in different grades in the panegyrical texts. While the
social status of the guests at the private dinner in Stat. Silv. 4.2 is high, Domi-
tian’s liberalitas towards the whole people, a group of lower social status, is
praised in Stat. Silv. 1.6 (una vescitur omnis ordo mensa, / parvi, femina, plebs,
eques, senatus, 43–44).34 It is not only illustrated by the food the emperor
provides during this public feast but also by the spectacula described. In Domi-
tian’s era, unlike in the past age of Jupiter, no one has to live frugally (Stat. Silv.
1.6.39–42). The setting of the Saturnalia allows for a “lifting of hierarchical barri-
ers, inclusive of the barrier separating the emperor from his subjects” (Stat. Silv.
1.6.43–48).35 This intimacy is supported by Statius’ terminology, which imitates
the private convivium,36 and thus even adds the notion of a closer relationship
with the emperor. Several other texts refer positively to Domitian’s liberalitas
towards the people, which he demonstrates by a feast in a theatre or during a
spectacle. Martial, for example, praises a sportula offered by Domitian in 93CE
after the Sarmatian War (Mart. 8.49[50]). Although it was not a cena recta, a
full meal taken by patronus and clientes together at a banquet, it was abund-
ant.37 Suetonius, although not at all an admirer of Domitian, mentions among
his positive deeds that during the December festival of the Septimontium he
provided the people, senators, and equestrians with an abundant feast (largis-
simum epulum, Suet. Dom. 4.5).38
In addition to descriptions of food and the setting of a feast, panegyrical
texts also praise the emperor by focusing on the thoughts, feelings, and wishes
of the guests. The speaker of Martial’s epigrams wants to be part of the din-
ners: he asks the emperor for an invitation (Mart. 9.91), or begs the organizer
of Domitian’s dinners to read one of his epigrams during a literary perform-
ance (Mart. 4.8.7–11). Statius’ poems express the joy one feels when close to the
emperor during a feast (Stat. Silv. 1.6; 4.2.14–17). These poems focus very much
on the presence and aura of the emperor as felt by the guests and expressed
by the poet.39 But the physical presence of the emperor is something ambi-
valent. On the one hand, the emperor is there, he is present, which creates a
certain closeness with those who are in the same place. On the other hand, his

34 Cf. also Leberl 2004, 196; Rühl 2006, 329.

35 Nauta 2002, 400.
36 See Vössing 2004, 276.
37 See Vössing 2004, 274.
38 On this passage cf. Goddard 1994, 70; Nauta 2002, 401.
39 Cf. Newlands 2002, 239 and her analysis of Stat. Silv. 1.6, in which she points out that the
emperor’s actual person is never directly described but that his presence is still felt every-
where and dominates the poem.
texts and stories: on ‘dinners with the emperor’ 19

very presence may make apparent that he is different, which creates distance
between him and his guests. Both of these opposing feelings, closeness and dis-
tance, are inherent in the social construction of imperial dinners, and both are
expressed in the panegyrical texts. In Stat. Silv. 1.6 one can see Domitian face
to face (and not just a statue of him), but one still cannot talk to him.40 In Stat.
Silv. 4.2 Domitian gives a dinner party and is present, but there is, again, no com-
munication between him and the speaker of the poem, which creates distance.
Modern readers of these texts sometimes underline either the closeness or the
distance in these feasts. If one focuses on the proximity, one can read Statius as
the panegyrical poet par excellence. Bringing out the difference and distance of
the emperor may result in two different interpretations. The difference may be
understood as praiseworthy, because the emperor is clearly singled out among
a group of people; his exceptional status is positively confirmed. Alternatively,
exactly the same difference can be interpreted negatively, because it points out
that the emperor is, after all, not equal, not really inter pares.41
A figure of praise in which this ambivalent feeling is condensed is the
emperor’s sacral aura, his divinity. Martial and Statius apply different strategies
to depict Domitian during a banquet as divine or to approximate him to the
gods.42 The site and setting of his dinners are described as divine in several
poems. Martial compares Domitian’s cena for all of Rome to an Olympic feast
(Mart. 8.49[50]). The amphitheatre of Stat. Silv. 1.6 appears as the “temple to
Rome’s new god”.43 The dining-hall of his palace is compared to the dining-
hall of the gods (Mart. 8.39), or associated with a temple (Stat. Silv. 4.2.20–
26).44 Domitian is depicted as Jupiter (Stat. Silv. 1.6.21–27; 43–50), his cupbearer
Earinus is compared to Ganymede (Stat. Silv. 3.4.57–59; Mart. 9.11.7; 9.16.6;
9.36).45 The single elements of the public banquet in Statius’ Silvae 1.6 point to
Domitian’s extraordinary capabilities, which transcend human power.46 In Sil-

40 Cf. Newlands 2002, 234, who borrows Stephen Greenblatt’s term of “privileged visibility”
to describe this situation.
41 Distance in Statius’ portrayal of Domitian (in Silv. 4.2) is underlined by Newlands 2002,
e.g. 272.
42 Cf. Leberl 2004, 196 on Stat. Silv. 1.6; Leberl 2004, 167–181 on Stat. Silv. 4.2.
43 Newlands 2002, 232.
44 Cf. Nauta 2002, 392.
45 The transgressive character of these depictions is better understood if we recall that the
custom of having young boys and eunuchs serve at table was criticized in Neronian liter-
ature, see e.g. Sen. Ep. 47.5; 47.7.
46 Cf. Newlands 2002, 233 for “the free food and gifts, the novelty, the splendour, the rapid
succession of entertainers, the extension of the shows into the night by seemingly magical
means”.
20 chapter 1

vae 4.2 the blurring of the boundaries between human and divine during Domi-
tian’s dinner can even be considered the main motif.47
However, picturing the transgression from human to divine can entail diffi-
culties, as feeling close to a god can cause different and ambiguous emotions.
Reverence may result either in sublime joy or in deep fear. Readers have accord-
ingly interpreted the texts that depict Domitian as divine as either truly pan-
egyrical or subtly critical. Due to the inherent ambivalence of the concept of
a divine emperor, the critical reading is not impossible and the ambivalent
reading is not unlikely. But at the same time the panegyrical texts use several
techniques to frame divinity in a positive way.48 In Domitian’s case this is done
by associating his divinity with virtues and modes of behaviour that counter-
balance his god-like presence. So in Silvae 1.6 he is praised not only for his divine
aura but also for his liberality.49 Domitian is also depicted as displaying civility
when he refuses to be called dominus during the Saturnalian feast (Stat. Silv.
1.6.83–84), when Statius expresses his praise for his egalitarian attitude (Stat.
Silv. 4.2.14–17),50 and when Martial points out his conviviality (Mart. 8.49[50]).

3 Critical Texts: Digesting Bad Dinners

The predominantly praiseworthy notions in panegyrical texts prove to be even

more ambiguous when we turn to texts that belong to a clearly critical dis-
course about imperial dinners. Luxury, liberality, emotions, and metaphors of
absolute power are not absent from the critical texts; rather, they reappear in
the form of their negative equivalents. The virtues that are carefully construc-
ted in panegyrical discourse are deconstructed and presented as vices in the
critical discourse. Luxury is present, but is re-interpreted as lavishness. Liber-
ality is described as being practised the wrong way, towards the wrong people,
and as breaching various social boundaries. The emperor’s aura triggers emo-
tions of fear and creates threatening situations. He abuses his power and mis-
interprets his imperial role during banquets.

47 Cf. Hardie 1983, 65: “The main theme of Silvae 4,2 is the Emperor as deus praesens relaxing
and feasting in the domus Flavia (which is equated with the caelum) after the completion
of his wars and labours.” Cf. Leberl 2004, 170–171.
48 See Cordes 2017, 172–173.
49 Cf. Leberl 2004, 196 on these two main panegyrical motifs in the poem.
50 Cf. Nauta 2002, 394. On the “tension between civility and hierarchy” see Nauta 2002, 396.
texts and stories: on ‘dinners with the emperor’ 21

3.1 Luxury—or Lavishness?

Nero’s luxury in banquets is criticized as exceeding accepted forms of extra-
vagance, for example in Suetonius, who treats the imperial luxury of several
emperors.51 The passage in Suetonius mentioned above about Nero’s dining-
hall with a revolving ceiling from which flowers and perfumes were scattered
(Suet. Ner. 31.2) is part of Suetonius’ critical treatment of Nero’s luxuria.52 Not
even at the end of his reign, when he hears about Galba and the revolt of the
Spanish provinces, does Suetonius’ Nero refrain from the luxury to which he
is accustomed (luxus; super abundantissimam cenam; Suet. Ner. 42.2). Nero’s
luxury is also framed negatively because it brings financial ruin to others:
Suetonius’ Nero invites himself to visit his friends for dinner, who have to spend
four million sesterces or more for such an event (Suet. Ner. 27.3).53 Receiving
Nero as a guest could thus mean financial ruin to the host. A certain Montanus
figures as an authority on luxury in Juvenal’s fourth satire (Juv. 4.107; 130–143).54
He is the one who solves the problem presented in the poem: a turbot has been
caught that is too big for any imperial dish. Montanus, member of Domitian’s
imperial council and formerly an alleged connoisseur and gourmet at Nero’s
notorious banquets (noverat ille / luxuriam imperii veterem noctesque Neronis,
Juv. 4.136–137), suggests the production of a giant new plate.
This post mortem criticism of the emperor Nero’s luxurious banquets can be
linked to the depiction of luxury in earlier Neronian literature. As mentioned

51 The best example of how a negative image of luxuria or lavishness is achieved is Suetonius’
portrayal of Vitellius (Suet. Vit. 13.1–3), a passage that seems to draw a lot on Seneca’s cri-
ticism of luxury in eating (cf. Stein-Hölkeskamp 2002, 7–17). Vitellius’ behaviour in eating
and drinking is interpreted negatively because he overdoes it in several ways, does not
make sensible use of the institution of dinner parties, and brings ruin to others: Suetonius’
Vitellius has at least three, sometimes four feasts a day (iantacula et prandia et cenas co-
misationesque, Suet. Vit. 13.1). Since he crosses the natural boundary given by the capacity
of the stomach, he vomits regularly (see e.g. Sen. Ep. 108.15; 95.15 for vomiting as a sign
of luxury). The food provided by his brother for his entry into Rome as emperor comes
in enormous quantities. One of his platters, which he calls the shield of Minerva the
Protectress, is of enormous size (immensam magnitudinem, Suet. Vit. 13.2); cf. Seneca’s
criticism of a contemporary stew in Ep. 95.28 for the disgusting mixture of ingredients
presented on this platter. When someone had to invite Suetonius’ Vitellius for dinner, he
had to spend at least four hundred thousand sesterces (Suet. Vit. 13.1).
52 The rubric luxuria is presented in Suet. Ner. 30–31. Cf. Suet. Ner. 26.1 for the disposition of
the text.
53 For Nero as guest at Otho’s dinner see Suet. Otho 4.2; Plut. Galba 19.3. Cf. Vössing 2004, 326.
Goddard 1994, 74 remarks that the amount of money “was ten times the property qualific-
ation necessary for holding the equestrian census in Rome”.
54 See Vössing 2004, 307–308.
22 chapter 1

above there are no contemporary versions of Nero’s dinners, eating, or drinking

habits, but there is a lively discourse on luxurious banquets in Neronian liter-
ature in general. Persius, Pliny the Elder, Petronius, Lucan, and Seneca all talk
about the lavishness of their contemporaries as concerns dinner.55 Seneca con-
stantly presents the notion that luxury in general, but particularly in matters of
eating and drinking, is against nature.56 He interprets luxury at banquets as a
sign of a sick society (Sen. Ep. 114.11). After his death Nero could be pictured as
an emperor at the head of the perversions of Neronian society that were depic-
ted in the literature of his time.57 By contrast, Domitian is reproached for being
either too luxurious or avaricious, or for being too greedy: his craving for luxury
is indirectly criticized by Martial and satirized by Juvenal in his fourth satire, as
we have just seen.58 Picking up and deconstructing the praise of his modesty
in contemporary discourse, Pliny the Younger depicts him as greedy (Plin. Pan.
49.6).

3.2 Transgressing Time and Place

Besides transgressing accepted extravagance and turning into lavish luxury or
antisocial greed, imperial dinner scenes in critical texts enact various social
transgressions that are based on single elements of the convivium as social insti-
tution, such as its time and place, conviviality and social hierarchy, and the
importance of the emperor’s understanding of his role as displayed during a
dinner party. A convivium is not supposed to last too long. When Suetonius,
dealing with Nero’s scelera, states that Nero’s vices got gradually worse and that
he moved on to greater misdeeds (Suet. Ner. 27.1), his first example is that Nero
drew out his banquets from noon to midnight (epulas a medio die ad mediam
noctem protrahebat, Suet. Ner. 27.2).59 During the night (and day), Nero is also

55 Lucan also includes a famous depiction of negative luxury at banquets when portraying
Caesar’s luxury at a banquet held with Cleopatra in Alexandria, a passage that illustrates
Caesar’s development into an oriental despot (see Schmidt 1986, 251). Elements of luxury
are not only the material of the dinnerware (Luc. 10.155; 160–161), the origin and quality
of food (Luc. 10.155–156; 158–159; 161–163), the behaviour of the guests (Luc. 10.164–168),
but also the reason for this luxury, which is not hunger but vain ambition (Luc. 10.156–
158), and consists in wasting the wealth of a plundered world (Luc. 10.169). The influence
of contemporary critique of luxury in popular philosophy on these passages is also noted
by Schmidt 1986, 238.
56 For Neronian literature critical of luxury at dinner see Stein-Hölkeskamp 2002, 7–17.
57 Cf. Stein-Hölkeskamp 2002, 25.
58 See Mart. 12.48.11 on the Alban hills.
59 The gradual deterioration of Nero’s vices, including his eating and drinking habits, is also
mentioned by Cass. Dio 61.4.3. The same reproach is made of Titus, Suetonius’ favourite
texts and stories: on ‘dinners with the emperor’ 23

said to have gone on excursions and spent his time in the city’s streets, brothels,
and taverns in disguise, which leads to violence and murder (Tac. Ann. 13.25.1–
3; Suet. Ner. 26.1–2; Cass. Dio 61.8.1–2; 61.9.2–4; 62.14.2).
There are more examples of Nero transgressing the traditional sites of ban-
quets in critical discourse. In Naples he dines in the middle of the orchestra
while a great crowd is present (mediaque in orchestra frequente populo epu-
latus, Suet. Ner. 20.2). In Rome, he makes the entire city his house, and provides
banquets in public places (Tac. Ann. 15.37.1). Sometimes, he even dines in the
drained Naumachia, the Campus Martius, or the Circus Maximus (Suet. Ner.
27.2). In the critical accounts, Nero also creates dynamic sites for banquets, din-
ing and entertaining on boats or along the river Tiber (Suet. Ner. 27.3; Cass. Dio.
62[61].20.5). The most vivid example of such a meal transgressing time and
place is the notorious banquet of Tigellinus mentioned briefly above, which
takes place on an artificial lake (Tac. Ann. 15.37.1–3; Cass. Dio 62.15.2–6).60
Another good example of an emperor transgressing norms of place is Sue-
tonius’ Vitellius, who not only eats too much and too often, but whose eating
habits are also characterized as ubiquitous. Suetonius’ description of Vitellius
comes close to satire: he has ship’s captains and galleys bring him extravag-
ant delicacies from Parthia and Gibraltar (Suet. Vit. 13.2).61 As his appetite was
immoderate, untimely, and disgraceful (homo non profundae modo sed intem-
pestivae quoque ac sordidae gulae, Suet. Vit. 13.3), he even ate while he made
sacrifices and while travelling, snatching sacrificial cake from the altar fire and
eating leftovers at the inns along his route. The texts suggest that the trans-
gression of time and place results in a lack of regular communication with the
princeps. Interaction with the princeps becomes much more difficult when he
dines somewhere other than expected.62 The same issue arises from the behav-

emperor, and interpreted as luxuria: luxuria … quod ad mediam noctem comisationes cum
profusissimo quoque familiarium extenderet (Suet. Tit. 7.1).
60 For this notorious banquet see Goddard 1994, 75–76; Woodman 1998; Stein-Hölkeskamp
2002, 21–22; Vössing 2004, 440–444. Suetonius (Ner. 27.2) does not explicitly mention the
banquet of Tigellinus. He gives only a brief description of an event that is similar to Tacitus’
and Dio’s version of this banquet. Cass. Dio 62.15.1 refers to another occasion, see Vössing
2004, 441. See also p.25–26.
61 Seneca, an older contemporary of the historical Vitellius, criticizes the luxury of his time
that consists in importing food from everywhere in the Empire (e.g. Sen. Ep. 60.2; 89.22).
Cf. Stein-Hölkeskamp 2002, 7–8. For a positive framing of the same motif see Stat. Silv.
1.6.12–20.
62 Cf. Stein-Hölkeskamp 2002, 18: “Extensive Gastmähler, die zur Aufgabe einer verbind-
lichen Zeiteinteilung führen, fungieren hier also als Chiffre für einen zum Autokratischen
hin degenerierenden Herrschaftsstil.”
24 chapter 1

iour of Suetonius’ Domitian, although his deviance is quite different: at the time
when one would usually be dining or drinking he goes for a walk alone in a
secluded place (Suet. Dom. 21).

3.3 Transgressing Conviviality

Innovative times and places are not the only reason for the lack of communica-
tion with the emperor during banquets. Much worse is the refusal of convivial-
ity, especially with the higher orders.63 Instead of offering socially appropriate
dinners for all orders, Nero is shown as dining in the wrong company and Domi-
tian as preferably dining with no company at all.64 We have already seen the
critique of Nero spending his life in the taverns of the people. Suetonius’ Nero
feasts not the Roman senators but messengers from Greece, who bring him
his prizes for lyre-playing. They are given precedence and made welcome at
his private supper parties (etiam familiaribus65 epulis interponeret, Suet. Ner.
22.3). Tacitus’ Nero invites teachers of philosophy for entertainment after din-
ner (etiam sapientiae doctoribus tempus impertiebat post epulas) to enjoy the
conflict of opposing opinions, and there are plenty of them interested in dis-
playing their gloomy faces and expressions at the royal entertainments (Tac.
Ann. 14.16.2). Nero is allegedly surrounded by disgusting creatures, such as Vat-
inius, who also dine with him.66 In preferring non-traditional dinner guests
Nero is again depicted as at the head of a society which is criticized for the same
or similar patterns of behaviour in Neronian philosophical discourse: Seneca
complains that his contemporaries randomly invite dinner guests when they
have their slave-secretary (nomenclator) choose guests for the cena from the
anonymous crowd present at the salutatio (Sen. Ep. 19.10–11).67 The criticism
thus pertains not only to the emperors but includes other hierarchical rela-
tionships, especially that between patronus and clientes. Suetonius’ Domitian
is, as mentioned above, unsocial in the opposite way: he eats so much for lunch
that he is full (prandebatque ad satietatem) and at dinner he has only a Matian

63 In this spirit, Cassius Dio claims that Caracalla no longer dined with the senators (Cass.
Dio 78[77].18.4; cf. however Cass. Dio 79[78].8.4 on Dio as guest at a dinner of Caracalla in
Nicomedia during the Saturnalia).
64 Cassius Dio chooses another, typical (cf. p.217–218) way to deconstruct Vitellius’ convivi-
ality: his Vitellius is depicted positively as he dines with the most influential people in a
friendly way (Cass. Dio 64[65].7.1). However, the costs for his dinners are too high (Cass.
Dio 64[65].3.2; 7.3).
65 The term familiaris does not refer to an especially intimate form of dining, however. See
Vössing 2004, 265–266.
66 For Vatinius see Tac. Ann. 15.34.2 and Vössing 2004, 307; 439.
67 Cf. Stein-Hölkeskamp 2002, 14–15.
texts and stories: on ‘dinners with the emperor’ 25

apple and a modest drink of wine from a jug (ut non temere super cenam praeter
Matianum malum et modicam in ampulla potiunculam sumeret) (Suet. Dom. 21).
Thus he often has large convivia but they end quickly and are not followed by
drinking (convivabatur frequenter ac large, sed paene raptim; certe non ultra solis
occasum nec ut postea comisaretur, Suet. Dom. 21). Suetonius’ uncivil Domitian
thus deprives his fellow elite members of the rites of communality.68

3.4 Destroying Social Order

The preference for feasts without the upper class leads to the destruction
of hierarchy, which is vividly depicted in the texts. Tacitus, Cassius Dio, and
Suetonius use the descriptions of feasts to explain, though most of the time
implicitly, why the good relations between emperors and the elite necessar-
ily broke down.69 But the common people were probably not following the
critique expressed in these historiographical texts written by members of the
elite.70 Regarding Nero, the banquet of Tigellinus (Tac. Ann. 15.37.1–3; Cass. Dio
62.15.2–6) can be considered the peak of the inversion of orders and of the out-
break of public immorality, at least in Tacitus’ and especially in Dio’s version.
Despite the differences in detail, both versions depict the banquet of Tigellinus
as the climax of social transgression. Nero transgresses by turning private into
public space, using the entire city as his own house (totaque urbe quasi domo
uti, Tac. Ann. 15.37.1). The banquet is characterized by its extravagance and
prodigality (Tac. Ann. 15.37.1–2), and most of all by its sexual license and wan-
tonness.71 The oarsmen of Nero’s vessels are male prostitutes grouped accord-
ing to age and sexual expertise (Tac. Ann. 15.37.2). The brothels on the banks
of the artificial lake are filled with women of distinction (Tac. Ann. 15.37.3).
Cassius Dio is even more explicit in showing the subversion of the orders by
sexual activities at the banquet. In Dio, to revisit the passage that was briefly
mentioned above, no woman, no matter whether noble or slave, young or old,
virgin or married, is permitted to refuse any man (Cass. Dio 62.15.4–5): a slave
could have his mistress with the master watching, a gladiator could debauch

68 Cf. Braund 1996, 40–42 on “non-participation in the shared consumption of food” as a

form of deviancy. Cf. Nauta 2002, 396.
69 Even more than Nero and Domitian, Caligula is portrayed as the paradigmatic denigrator
of the upper class, cf. Vössing 2004, 535–536.
70 Cf. Vössing 2004, 440. In general on Nero’s popularity with the plebs cf. Witschel 2006, 101.
71 The motif of erotic licence at feasts is developed in other contexts too. Otho praises his
wife Poppaea’s looks and refinement and rouses Nero’s passions for her when leaving one
of the emperor’s dinners (Tac. Ann. 13.46.1). Tacitus reports Cluvius Rufus’ account that
Agrippina offered herself to her son Nero incestuously during a feast (Tac. Ann. 14.2.1–2).
26 chapter 1

a noble girl before the eyes of her father. Dio adds that this licence ended in
fighting, violence, and death for many men and women (Cass. Dio 62.15.5–
6).
Domitian’s reversal of hierarchy and lack of conviviality in the critical texts
takes a different turn. Juvenal’s Domitian hates the members of his council, and
they feel their ‘friendship’ with the emperor as something that makes them sick
(vocantur / ergo in consilium proceres, quos oderat ille, / in quorum facie miserae
magnaeque sedebat / pallor amicitiae, Juv. 4.72–75). There is still, as in panegyr-
ical discourse, a reciprocal relationship between emperor and elite, but it is
mutually bad. Amicitia has become something miserable. Suetonius’ Domitian
shows his autocratic distance by being happy when people call him dominus
during a feast in the amphitheatre (Suet. Dom. 13.1), thus acting as the opposite
of Statius’ Domitian (Stat. Silv. 1.6.83–84).72 Cassius Dio’s Domitian is, again, the
worst (Cass. Dio 67.4.4–5; cf. 67.8.4). His banquets for spectators in the theatre
lasting into the night are said to give pleasure to the people, but to bring ruin
to the powerful (ἃ δὴ τοῖς μὲν πολλοῖς ἐν ἡδονῇ, ὡς εἰκός, ἦν, τοῖς δὲ δυνατοῖς ὀλέ-
θρου αἴτια καθίστατο); as he does not have enough money for his expenses, he
murders many rich men (Cass. Dio 67.4.5). In addition, one of the banquets is
said to have been a dinner in recompense for his causing the death of many
people during a spectacle at which he allowed no one but himself to put on
warmer clothes during a violent storm (Cass. Dio 67.8.2–4).

3.5 Fear and Death

This neglect and transgression of traditional elements of the convivium as
portrayed by Tacitus, Suetonius, and Cassius Dio aims to make clear that the
emperor is not properly fulfilling his political and social role. What is more, din-
ing with the emperor is characterized as a situation of fear, crime, and death.73
Luxury is coupled with cruelty.74 The emperor’s abuse of his power to create
fear, to carry out or incite crime and deaths in the critical texts is in sharp con-
trast to his divine, joyful, and peaceful aura in panegyrical discourse. However,
in Domitian’s case descriptions of the emotions aroused at his banquets may
also draw on the ambivalence in the panegyrical texts mentioned above in

72 Cf. Nauta 2002, 402: “perhaps Domitian’s reluctance to be called dominus was so obviously
feigned that a more hostile interpretation (to be made public only after his death) could
easily construct it as encouragement”.
73 For Caligula cf. his cruel laughter during a feast, based on his power to kill people with
ease (Suet. Calig. 32.3).
74 Suetonius combines the rubrics of luxuria and saevitia in his Life of Vitellius: luxuriae
saevitiaeque deditus (Suet. Vit. 13.1; cf. Tit. 7.1).
texts and stories: on ‘dinners with the emperor’ 27

the context of his presence and his divinity:75 several readers of Statius’ Silvae
detect, if not implicit criticism of the emperor, at least an ambiguous feeling.
Carole Newlands interprets the comparison of Domitian with Jupiter in Silv.
1.6 as pointing to “the emperor as a figure to be both feared and admired”.76
According to Claudia Klodt, the portrait of Domitian reveals a certain uneasi-
ness on the part of the poet of Silv. 4.2.77 Such an ambivalence, which lies in the
very nature of distant reverence, is turned into a clear and unambiguous neg-
ative feeling in critical discourse when Pliny the Younger reproaches Domitian
for threatening his guests by closely observing them (Plin. Pan. 49.6).
In critical narratives about Nero occasions for eating and drinking even set
the scene for crime and death. The emperor is depicted as both causing and
experiencing fear.78 When Tacitus’ Nero hears about Agrippina’s alleged plan
for a revolution against him during a drinking bout, he panics (trepidus, Tac.
Ann. 13.20.3) and wants to kill his mother right away. Burrus, who finally pre-
vents him from doing so, argues among other things that Nero should take into
account that he spent the night carousing (vigilatam convivio noctem, Tac. Ann.
13.20.3). With his first reaction, caused by fear, Nero acts contrary to the notion
that serious issues should not be part of a convivium.79 When he has people
killed during a convivium he violates a space sacred through the law of hos-
pitality.80 Tacitus’ Nero, who only became emperor because Claudius died at
a dinner (Tac. Ann. 12.67.1–2), has Atticus Vestinus killed during his banquet
and pictures with amusement his guests’ fear of death. Suetonius’ Nero plans
to poison the senate during a feast (senatum universum veneno per convivia
necare, Suet. Ner. 43.1). What is more, the Nero of critical discourse uses the
convivium to kill or prepare the murder of family members. Britannicus’ death,
as mentioned above, takes place during a convivium (Tac. Ann. 13.16.1–4; Suet.
Ner. 33.2–3). Before Nero tries to kill Agrippina, he invites her to a splendid ban-
quet (Tac. Ann. 14.4.1–4; Suet. Ner. 34.2; Suet. Otho 3.1; Cass. Dio 62[61].13.1–2).
Although the critical texts differ again in their details, they all agree that this
banquet lasted long and that Nero was extremely friendly with his mother. He

75 Cf. p.18–19. For the ambivalence of the panegyrical discourse in general see p.39–40.
76 Newlands 2002, 242. Cf. Newlands 2002, 229, also on Domitian compared to Jupiter: “The
threat of the unpredictable exercise of power is never absent from his representation
here.”
77 See Klodt 2001, 102. She also detects a “Gefühl von Bedrückung, Gefahr und Auswe-
glosigkeit” (Klodt 2001, 59).
78 For the depiction of mutual fear at a banquet cf. Otho’s banquet in Tac. Hist. 1.81.
79 See Vössing 2004, 446, who refers to Sen. Con. 9.2.4: scelus est in convivio damnare
hominem—quid occidere?
80 For the rights of hospitality see Vössing 2004, 445.
28 chapter 1

escorted her when she left, embraced and kissed her.81 In critical discourse,
Nero fulfils the formal requirements of the convivium only when he simulates
them for cruel purposes.
In narratives about Domitian the focus is on feasts as part of a cruel psycho-
logical game. Suetonius’ Domitian is so ingenious and unpredictable as to be
extremely intimate with people and even share his supper with them shortly
before he has them killed or condemned (Suet. Dom. 11.1). Dio’s Domitian asso-
ciates death with dinner even more, as we have already seen in two text pas-
sages: not only does he provide dinner after he caused mass mortality (Cass.
Dio 67.8.3–4); he also gives a dinner for knights and senators which plays on
their fear of death; later this dinner was called a “funeral banquet” (Cass. Dio
67.9.1–6).

3.6 Evaluating the Imperial Role

When we look at these critical depictions of the imperial feasts of Nero and
Domitian together, we see that neglect of the imperial role is constructed in
different ways. The critical texts pick up different elements from panegyrical
accounts. Nero is shown as an emperor who spends too much money, luxury,
and time on his convivia. This implies a neglect of imperial duties.82 Domitian,
by contrast, does not expend enough money, luxury, or time on his dinners.
Whereas Nero eats and drinks with everyone everywhere and lowers himself
during his nocturnal excursions,83 Domitian prefers to dine without anyone
and to remain alone.84 By letting people call him dominus he puts himself in
a higher position. Both of them thus have bad relations with the elite. Nero’s
behaviour and company is not imperial enough, insufficiently emperor-like;
Domitian’s behaviour, by contrast, is too autocratic. Both, however, show con-
tempt for the traditional participation of the upper classes in imperial feasts.85
We could say that Domitian, by dining mainly alone and briefly, does not even
properly step into his role,86 whereas Nero misuses his imperial role and steps
out of it. Some typically Neronian features of behaviour are linked to the con-
vivia, such as his artistry and loss of grip on reality: when asked by Greek legates

81 See Vössing 2004, 451. For this banquet see also Stein-Hölkeskamp 2002, 23–24.
82 Cf. Goddard 1994, 72.
83 Cf. Goddard 1994, 74.
84 Cf. Braund 1996, 44–46: “the solitude preferred by Domitian is typical of tyrants according
to ancient ‘kingship theory’ ”.
85 For Nero cf. Goddard 1994, 75.
86 In Juvenal’s Satire 4, however, Domitian misuses his role as emperor and deems the catch-
ing of a gigantic fish to be an event that more urgently demands summoning the council
of state than matters of war, cf. Newlands 2002, 261.
texts and stories: on ‘dinners with the emperor’ 29

to sing after dinner, he agrees and thus becomes part of the entertainment pro-
gramme himself (Suet. Ner. 22.3). After Galba’s revolt, Suetonius’ Nero is at first
in shock, but when he recovers and receives positive news from the provinces
he mocks the leaders of the rebellion during a very luxurious meal (Suet. Ner.
42.2). When he later, this time during lunch (prandenti), receives bad news
again, namely that the other armies had also rebelled, he is not capable of a
political reaction either (Suet. Ner. 47.1).

4 Conclusions Drawn from This Case Study

Banquets, feasts, and dinners organized by the emperor can be considered as

social spaces in which the emperor performs his role and displays import-
ant virtues. They are an exemplary medium of imperial representation and
a prominent topic in ancient literature.87 The literary presentation of imper-
ial dinners illuminates some characteristic features of panegyrical and critical
texts, which will be crucial for the following analysis of the deconstruction of
Nero’s and Domitian’s imperial representation in Roman historiography and
biography.
(1) We have seen that literary dinner scenes deal with several topics of imper-
ial representation at once.88 Divinity is one such topic that is closely linked to
dinners since the dinner is one of the spaces in which the emperor may appear
as divine. Since a dinner needs a venue, building works and architecture as
media of imperial representation are presented too.89 Military success can be a
reason to celebrate banquets and is therefore a topic linked to them in the pan-
egyrical and critical texts: Martial connects a feast to Domitian’s victory and
return from the Second Pannonian War (Mart. 8.49[50]); Cassius Dio presents
a dinner as recompense for the deaths caused by Domitian during the fake cel-
ebrations of a mock triumph (Cass. Dio 67.8.4). Literary accounts of imperial
representation are thus complex combinations of several topics and contexts
that present and discuss an emperor’s image.

87 For media of imperial representation in general see p.34.

88 Stat. Silv. 4.2 provides an excellent example of a text that incorporates almost all elements
of imperial representation (cf. Leberl 2004, 181).
89 See Stat. Silv. 4.2 for architecture and Domitian’s palace, with Newlands 2002, 266–271. In
Stat. Silv. 1.6 the spectacle in the theatre is more important than architecture (cf. Newlands
2002, 229). For archaeological evidence see Vössing 2004, 348; 350: Domitian’s palace on
the Palatine included a gigantic dining-hall on the site of Nero’s cenatio, but its form was
not new.
30 chapter 1

(2) We have been dealing with different textual transmissions. Nero and
Domitian’s dinners are evaluated often in panegyrical and critical texts. How-
ever, there is no positive account of Nero’s dinners in the surviving literature
of his own time, and we do not know how Tacitus treated Domitian’s din-
ners, since the relevant books of the Histories are lost. So, to point out this
important issue again, we have no description of Nero’s dinners in panegyr-
ical Neronian literature, but several accounts in critical texts. By contrast, there
are many panegyrical treatments of the motif in Domitian’s contemporary lit-
erature, but not many in later critical texts.90 The basis of the texts available
creates a falsely asymmetric impression, as if Domitian’s dinners were treated
positively whereas Nero’s dinners were strongly criticized. This effect of trans-
mission does not suggest, however, that no other discourses existed. On the
contrary, we can assume that under both Nero and Domitian imperial dinners
were evaluated both positively and negatively; and the same is true for the
period after their death. But at different times it will have been more oppor-
tune, and held to be more valid, to say different things about their banquets in
public. Some discourses will have been better left hidden, some expressed in
written form, but then lost.91 The texts that we read today will thus mirror only
in part what was written and said, let alone thought and felt, about imperial
representation at a certain time.
(3) This look at several different texts that are part of two discourses on
imperial dinners has revealed certain relationships between these texts. With-
out claiming any direct dependence we can still observe that panegyrical and
critical constructions of imperial dinners are closely related to each other. The
critical discourse after the emperor’s death seems to pick up motifs of panegyr-
ical discourse—though not necessarily from the written texts that have been
transmitted—and to transform them according to its own purposes. Martial,
Statius, Pliny, Suetonius, and in part Cassius Dio agree that Domitian created
distance between himself and his guests and people. But while panegyrical
texts evaluate this distance as part of his difference and divinity, the critical
discourse interprets the distance as arrogance, as we saw. In both cases Domi-
tian does not clearly fulfil the virtue of conviviality and commensality, but how
his deviance or transgression is to be interpreted is under negotiation: what is
positively interpreted as the overstepping of a boundary into divinity is later
negatively re-coded as the breaking of a boundary. In different discourses, dif-

90 Dinner in Domitian’s palace is the only imperial topic dealt with by both Statius (Silv. 4.2)
and Martial (8.30; 8.49[50]; 9.91), see Nauta 2002, 383–384.
91 On the concept of hidden discourses see p.42.
texts and stories: on ‘dinners with the emperor’ 31

ferent interpretations are valid, and in hindsight the panegyrical discourse can
almost be seen to anticipate the critical discourse.
(4) My literary analysis of texts on imperial dinners has not treated these
texts as sources.92 It is not the factuality or truth of narrative elements that
interests me here, but their plausibility and validity for the argument in which
they are presented.93 When Konrad Vössing analyses Agrippina’s death in
Tacitus, Suetonius, and Cassius Dio he summarizes what they have in common
and explains the appearance of these elements in all three texts by hypothesiz-
ing one shared source.94 My interest, in contrast, lies in analysing the functions
that these shared narrative elements fulfil within each text. When D.R. Shack-
leton Bailey comments on Statius’ praise of Domitian as being modest in eating
and drinking (dapes modicas et sobria pocula, Stat. Silv. 5.1.121) in his Loeb edi-
tion of the Silvae, he refers to Suetonius; he is obviously reading the biographer
as an objective author compared to the poet Statius and using Suetonius’ text
to assert that Statius is telling the truth: “The Emperor was in fact a moder-
ate eater and drinker”.95 In this study, I will not use one author as proof to
confirm or contradict what another author says. My focus is on why Domitian
would be depicted as moderate by both Statius and Suetonius but not by Cas-
sius Dio. Inquiring into the function and role of such narrative elements in
different texts reveals that certain ‘figures of memory’ have different purposes
and a different significance in different texts.96 An analysis of their function
is more than Motivgeschichte: it does not consider narrative elements to be
merely topoi, and it contends that even as topoi they not only differ in import-
ant details, but have a social relevance and are meaningful when applied in
different contexts.
(5) The comparison of these texts also reveals differences within a given dis-
course. Tacitus, Suetonius, and Cassius Dio are all mostly critical of Nero and
Domitian, but the contemporary and generic discourses to which their texts
belong also create differences in their negative images of emperors. Tacitus uses
depictions of imperial dinners to create dramatic single scenes.97 Suetonius,
who clearly separates positive deeds from negative ones in his different rubrics,

92 By contrast, Vössing 2004 treats Martial and Statius as sources equal to Tacitus, Suetonius,
and Cassius Dio.
93 Cf. p.42–43.
94 See Vössing 2004, 450–451.
95 Shackleton Bailey 2003, 321.
96 For the term ‘figures of memory’ see Assmann 2011, 23–28.
97 See e.g. the death of Britannicus (Tac. Ann. 13.16.1–4) and the scenes preceding the mur-
derous attack on Agrippina (Tac. Ann. 14.4.3–4).
32 chapter 1

uses dinner scenes to structure his texts or to highlight his structure.98 Cassius
Dio often appears as a combination of the Tacitean narrative mode and the
Suetonian rubric-mode.99 Such differences in literary structures and their rel-
evance to the depiction of imperial representation will be explored in chapters
3 to 11.

98 In Suetonius, the point at which Nero turns from virtutes to vitia is illustrated by his eating
and drinking habits (Suet. Ner. 27); he hears of Galba’s revolt and learns of the end of his
reign during lunch (Suet. Ner. 47).
99 A Suetonian element in Dio is that the change in Nero’s ways is illustrated by the example
of dinners (Cass. Dio 61.4.3).
 chapter 2

Theory and History

The analysis of texts about dining with the emperor as presented in the pre-
vious chapter has implicitly drawn on certain theoretical and methodological
concepts. I would now like to elaborate them on a more abstract level, which
also requires a more complex and dense argumentation. In what follows I will
revisit the issues, questions, concepts, and ideas just presented from a more
theoretical perspective. I have used the terms ‘representation’, ‘discourse’, and
‘deconstruction’, which will now be more thoroughly defined; I have also used a
concept of historiography that needs explanation. By outlining my understand-
ing of these central terms of the study as clearly as possible I shall also present
the analytical tools that will be applied, namely pragmatic discourse analysis
and the hermeneutic devices of philology and rhetoric.

1 Imperial Representation: Nero and Domitian

An emperor like Nero or Domitian had to interpret his role as emperor and
communicate it to his subjects. In this interpretation the image of an emperor
was broadcast in several media, and not only material media, such as build-
ings or coins, but also performative ones, such as dinners or triumphs, of which
descriptions have come down to us in texts (and images). Imperial representa-
tion had to reach different social groups, namely the upper orders, the Roman
plebs, the people in the provinces, and the soldiers.1 These groups expected
different things from their emperor.2 Senators and knights wanted him to
present himself as an easily approachable civilis princeps, to make transpar-
ent decisions, confirm their honours, and treat them as if they were of equal
standing.3 They also wanted him to conceal on a symbolic level, for example by
rituals such as dinners and by accepting honours they offered him, that he was
in fact not only the princeps senatus, the first of the Senate, but also a monarch.
The Roman plebs expected a caring patronus providing them with food and fun,
for example during the games, a pater patriae figure. Provincial expectations

1 Cf. Witschel 2006, 89–93.

2 For the expectations of these different social groups cf. Seelentag 2004, 22–28.
3 For the ideal of the civilis princeps cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1982.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004407558_004

34 chapter 2

were diverse, and regional expectations differed depending on the political his-
tory of a geographical area. Soldiers profited most from an emperor who would
lead successful military campaigns and give them donatives.
The media of imperial representation that addressed these groups differed
in their status. Some were more official and more controlled by the emperor
than others, some were initiatives by his entourage and some were developed
independently of him on a local level.4 Closest to the emperor and organized by
himself and his inner circle were his official titles and centrally minted coins,
i.e. the imperial coinage. Building endeavours, statues, and inscriptions could
be initiated by the emperor or by other groups such as city and provincial elites.
Imperial representation thus consisted not only of official representations dir-
ected by the emperor, but also of ‘unofficial’ representations of his power that
were offered to him by other people.5 These less official forms could nonethe-
less be inspired by official portraits. Literature as a medium of representation,
including panegyrics, belongs to this second category. The poetry of Martial
and Statius is therefore not necessarily to be read as simple propaganda, but
more generally as offering forms of imperial representation that supplement,
and sometimes exaggerate, the official forms.6 Literature, in short, participates
in a larger social system involving the emperor and his subjects, the elite, the
people, the soldiers, and the provincials, and it is a vital part of the discourse
about imperial representation.
Several topics were expected by and expressed towards these different social
groups in official and unofficial media. The emperor had to present himself in
several roles, for example as a successful military leader, as benefactor of his
people, builder of the city, organizer of entertainment, and as sacral or divine.7
Due to their monarchical tradition, Eastern provinces in which monarchies had
long been established were not reluctant to adopt forms of divine representa-
tion and sometimes offered them themselves.8 Presenting an imperial image
in these fields in a certain way entailed the explicit or implicit proclamation of
norms and purposes for the reign, such as virtus, clementia, iustitia, pietas, or

4 See Bönisch-Meyer et al. 2014a, 438–439. On media of imperial representation see also
Hose/Fuhrer 2014, 13; 15.
5 Cf. Seelentag 2004, 16; Hose/Fuhrer 2014, 12; 15.
6 See Nauta 2002, 381: “So the poets, even if dependent on other discourses, enjoyed a certain
freedom in constructing their own discourse, a freedom which had to do with the more flex-
ible and less ‘official’ nature of their medium.” By contrast, Leberl 2004, 243 reads the Silvae
as authentic testimony of what Domitian’s court broadcasted; Rühl 2006, 357 similarly points
out the reinforcing effect that the Silvae supply for Domitianic norms.
7 I deal with topics of imperial representation more thoroughly in chapter 3 and chapter 6.2.
8 Cf. Witschel 2006, 91–92.
theory and history 35

liberalitas.9 The medium of the text offered exceptional possibilities to present

and develop these virtues and topics of imperial representation in narratives.10
In panegyrical literature about Nero and Domitian six motifs of imperial rep-
resentation stand out, namely imperial luxury; the size of imperial buildings;
the emperor’s divinity; the effect of his reign on nature and cosmos; his infinite
power; and the glorification of contemporary times.11
In both panegyrical and historiographical texts meaning is ascribed to cer-
tain elements of an emperor’s reign and behaviour. From a semiotic view-
point we can say that a certain code is used to construct a message about the
emperor.12 The reader or, to speak more generally, the recipient may use the
same code when he receives and deciphers the message. If he uses a different
code the message will mean something else to him.13 What a form of represent-
ation means to someone thus depends on the code one uses to read it. This is
why the meaning of a form of representation can change: an extravagant dinner
of Nero may be praiseworthy luxury to an invited guest, but senseless lavish-
ness to a later critic. Different codes at different times result in different de-
codings or interpretations of imperial representation. We can thus understand
imperial representation as a complex form of communication, encompassing
several media, codes, and communicators. It is a reciprocal form of communic-
ation because both the emperor and his people offer forms of representation
that they deem to be expected by the other groups or to be appropriate for
themselves; they are either accepted or rejected. And it is a dynamic form of

9 For the status and functions of imperial virtues in general see Wallace-Hadrill 1981, who
underlines that there was not one universally valid ‘canon’ of virtues. However, Menander
rhetor (Men. Rhet. 373) presents a “more codified catalogue of the four classic virtues of
a ruler, derived ultimately from Plato: courage, justice, temperance and wisdom”, and the
Hellenistic kingship literature develops a pool of virtues of the ruler, which were adop-
ted by the Romans as e.g. fortitudo, temperantia/continentia, iustitia, prudentia/sapientia
(Braund 1998, 57).
10 In a broader sense of the term, there are narratives in media other than texts too. Tra-
jan’s column, for example, can be analysed as narrating the story of his victory over the
Dacians. See Seelentag 2004, 369–370 for the temporal and logical arrangement and the
documentary way of presenting the 155 scenes.
11 This is the list of topics analysed by Cordes 2017.
12 For the semiotic theory of codes, coding, de-coding, and re-coding see Mitchell 1995, 13;
Hose/Fuhrer 2014, 20–21; Cordes 2017, 7–9.
13 This ambiguity of imperial representation is reflected in the historiographical texts: when
someone calls Cassius Dio’s Caligula “Young Augustus” he does not take it as praise but as
critique (Cass. Dio 59.13.6); similarly, he considers the inscription to a statue stating that
he was consul for the second time at age 27 as critical, not as positive (Cass. Dio 59.19.2–3).
Later Cassius Dio’s Caracalla, who identifies himself with Alexander the Great, interprets
an allusion to Alexander as subversive (Cass. Dio 78[77].8.3).
36 chapter 2

communication, since from a diachronic perspective we can observe processes

of accepting or rejecting certain forms of representation, which we may also
conceive as negotiations over imperial representation.14 Literature, both pan-
egyrical and critical, is part of this political system of communication.
These negotiations of imperial representation can best be observed in the
case of emperors who experimented with traditional forms of representation,
mainly by transgressing them or innovating new forms, and in emperors who
suffered from what we today call damnatio memoriae, especially when their
death also meant the end of a dynasty. Nero and Domitian thus provide excel-
lent examples for this study, as outlined in the Introduction above. They trans-
gressed traditional forms of imperial representation to move into styles that
were at odds with the ideals of the elite.15 Their respective successors Galba
and Vespasian, and Nerva and Trajan, as hinted above, mostly refrained from
forms of representation that recalled Nero or Domitian.16 We can observe here
how a change of regime is a crucial moment for the construction of cultural
memory.17 That is to say, it is an important moment of remembering and for-
getting, and not least of re-coding the past, since the new regime may usually
expect, allow, and require new codes and new ways of speaking.18 This process
of re-coding can be best observed in authors who wrote during two subsequent
regimes, such as Seneca under Claudius and Nero, and Martial under Domitian
and both Nerva and Trajan.19
Within this process of re-coding, the idea of the transgression of established
forms of imperial representation plays an integral part. Transgression is a pos-
itive figure of thought in panegyrical literature, which claims that an excep-
tional princeps should also have exceptional ways of expressing himself, his

14 Cf. Seelentag 2004, 16; 29; Hose/Fuhrer 2014, 16 on representation as a communicative

process of negotiation, which includes offers, refusals, compromises, and compulsory
measures.
15 Cf. Witschel 2006, 106–108 on the common features of eccentric Roman emperors.
For similar transgressions in the late Republic, esp. regarding Caesar and Pompey, see
Hölscher 2009, 169–177.
16 Cf. Introduction and Cordes 2017, 4 n. 18 with further bibliography.
17 Cf. Gowing 2005, 30 on Augustus’ funeral.
18 Cf. Flower 2006, 197–198; Nauta 2010 for Domitian’s distance from Nero. See Leithoff 2014,
134–147 on Nero as a negative exemplum under the Flavians.
19 The portrayal of Claudius in Seneca’s Consolatio ad Polybium, written during Claudius’
lifetime, differs enormously from his portrayal of Claudius in the Apocolocyntosis, written
after his death, cf. Cordes 2017, 321. For Mart. 10.72 see p.40. Gauly 2008 discusses the con-
struction of the idealizing persona of Pliny the Younger in his letters as a literary strategy
in the context of such socio-political changes from Domitian to Nerva and Trajan.
theory and history 37

behaviour, and his power.20 Later interpretations that read and frame trans-
gression as something negative correspond to these positive interpretations of
transgression.21 These positive forms of representation based on the idea of
transgression evidently provoked negative reactions: Martial and Statius use
dinner scenes, as we have seen, to associate Domitian with Jupiter; Cassius Dio
later makes him a host who resembles Hades. We could say using Jan Assmann’s
terminology that emperors like Nero and Domitian who transgressed accepted
forms of imperial representation were ‘mythomotoric’:22 their behaviour and
representation was especially apt for creating stories. Whether these stories
were in favour of them or against them was only partly within their control in
their lifetimes and certainly not in their control after their deaths and the end
of their respective dynasty, when evaluation of imperial representation and of
transgressions was used to distinguish ‘good’ and ‘bad’ emperors.
Nero and Domitian belong to the group of the bad emperors.23 Their trans-
gressive representation is read as an expression of their badness. What is more,
badness is sometimes closely connected to madness by modern interpreters.24
But recent studies have emphasized that Nero’s and Domitian’s behaviour and
imperial representation was much more rational than most historians’ source-
texts contend.25 The texts have been characterized rather as hostile, as written
by an elite that was scorned by these emperors.26 This does not turn Nero and

20 Cf. Cordes 2017, 218–222.

21 For the breaching of boundaries as literary topic see Bartsch 1997, 13–47 (esp. 13–29) and
her analysis of Lucan. While her focus is on bodily boundaries in Lucan’s text, she also
mentions natural, political, legal, juridical, and geographical boundaries.
22 For Assmann’s term ‘mythomotor of memory’ see Assmann 2011, 62–69.
23 The construction of bad and good emperors is not confined to the medium of literature:
e.g. Trajan’s restoration coins fulfil the same purpose, in that they depict only the good
emperors Caesar, Augustus, Tiberius, Claudius, Galba, Vespasian, Titus, Nerva, but leave
out the bad ones Caligula, Nero, Otho, Vitellius, Domitian (see Seelentag 2004, 411).
24 Cf. Introduction. For the characterization of Julio-Claudian principes as psychopaths see
also Heuss 61998, 590: “Dass bei den Julisch-Claudischen Kaisern vieles ins Gebiet der Psy-
chopathologie gehört, lässt sich auch bei der größten Skepsis gegen die Tradition nicht
verhehlen.” See Southern 1997, 124 for an analysis of Domitian as suffering from paranoia.
See also the summary of scholarship on Domitian in Christ 2008. For Caligula see Bene-
diktson 1989, who claims a relationship between Caligula’s behaviour and a mental illness
which he diagnoses as interictal temporal lobe epilepsy.
25 Wilson 2003, 524–526 warns that the rehabilitation of Domitian should not go too far, but
refers especially to the works of Waters 1964, Jones 1992, and Southern 1997, who take an
extreme position.
26 Cf. Champlin 2003, 37–52 for Nero (also on Pliny the Elder, Cluvius Rufus, Fabius Rusticus);
Schnurbusch 2011, 286 for Domitian; Witschel 2006, 94 for senatorial historiographers
judging emperors by their own expectations.
38 chapter 2

Domitian into good emperors who were slandered by offended aristocrats—

and I will not, as mentioned before, pursue the question of just how bad or
crazy the historical Nero and Domitian really were. Rather, it sets the emphasis
once more on the fact that historiography and biography play an important role
in constructing and deconstructing imperial images.
To understand and analyse the construction of the figures ‘Nero’ and ‘Domi-
tian’ in historiographical and biographical texts we have to take other con-
structions of these emperors into account: their own forms of representation
in official media and their portraits in art and panegyrics in general. This is
not the place to give a detailed summary or overview of the historical and
the panegyrical Nero and Domitian,27 but to mention the most important fig-
ures of memory, Nero’s most innovative and transgressive form of representa-
tion was his representation as artist.28 Popular motifs regarding his reign that
were used and developed differently in various discourses are his closeness
to the god Apollo; his performances on stage and as charioteer; his journey
to Greece, which ended with a triumph in Rome; the murder of his mother;
and the Great Fire of Rome. Domitian’s representation focused on military
success (for example by celebrating triumphs in 83, 86, and 89CE), and sac-
ral exaltation. It also aimed at omnipresence:29 his buildings were constructed
throughout the whole city; a massive palace was erected on the Palatine; and
his calendar regulations supported the impression of ubiquity on a temporal
level.

2 Discourse and Deconstruction

In talking about imperial representation as a form of communication between

the emperor and his subjects, about the media used, and the development of
forms of representation, I have used the term ‘discourse’. This term means vari-
ous things in different languages and is used for several phenomena in English.
When I apply it in this study, I refer to the entirety of expressions of a certain
topic (e.g. imperial representation) in a specific way (e.g. affirmation or cri-
tique) in different media (e.g. texts, buildings), and to the particular conditions

27 There are several major historical studies of Nero and Domitian, e.g. Champlin 2003; Jones
1992; for panegyric Cordes 2017.
28 Cf. Witschel 2006, 101.
29 See Leberl 2004, 81–83; Witschel 2006, 115. Domitian’s sacral aura features in all of Statius’
imperial Silvae (see Leberl 2004, 241).
theory and history 39

(e.g. social rules of production of media, texts, and meaning) underlying these
expressions.30 Or, to put it differently, I mean everything that is said, written,
painted, sculpted, etc. about a certain topic during a specified period of time.
Pragmatic discourse analysis puts emphasis on the fact that not everything that
can be said at a certain time is in fact said, let alone transmitted. What is actu-
ally said and expressed depends on social structures that guide and create the
discourse and which people need not be aware of. For example, a text is not
seen as the product of a single individual author who is in full control of his
artefact. It is rather considered as part of a complex set of rules of communic-
ation. The author did not create them and is not responsible for them; he may
not even know them consciously. Discourse analysis conceives of texts as res-
ults and traces of discursive activity embedded in certain contexts, with which
the texts are thus discursively connected.31
The ‘panegyrical discourse’ comprises all expressions that are affirmative of
the emperor and his representation and, in Nero’s and Domitian’s case, it pre-
vails during their lifetime; it precedes the critical historiographical discourse.
Since the literary genre of panegyric provides numerous and highly elaborate
examples of these affirmative expressions it lends its name to the ‘panegyrical
discourse’.32 However, I also speak more generally about an ‘affirmative dis-
course’ at some points to recall that this discourse is not confined to literary
panegyric in a strict sense. The most important panegyrical texts for this study
are Seneca’s Apocolocyntosis, De clementia, the proem of Lucan, Calpurnius
Siculus’ Eclogues 1, 4, and 7 (although the dating is debated33), and the Car-
mina Einsidlensia for Nero, and Statius’ Silvae (1.1; 1.6; 4.1; 4.2; 4.3) and Martial
(books 1–9) for Domitian.34 There has been an extensive debate in scholarship,
mentioned above with regard to the motif of imperial dinners, on whether
the praise in these texts is meant sincerely. Several interpretations detect irony
behind the surface praise, which is hidden and so not easily detectable by every-
one. This theory of ‘doublespeak’35 or ‘safe criticism’36 assumes that authors of

30 I am mainly following the ideas of pragmatic discourse analysis, for which see Japp 1988;
Angermüller 2001, 7–22.
31 Cf. Hose/Fuhrer 2014, 12–13.
32 For this use of ‘panegyrical dicourse’ and ‘panegyric’ in a broad sense, which is widely
established in scholarly literature, see Cordes 2017, 2; 10–12, who analyses the Neronian
and Domitianic panegyrical texts listed here as one corpus.
33 For the dating see Cordes 2017, 11.
34 Domitian is also a positive character in Flavius Josephus, whose Bellum Judaicum praises
the Flavians, including Domitian, and in Frontinus’ Strategemata.
35 Cf. Bartsch 1994, 98–147 on Tacitus and Juvenal.
36 Cf., e.g., Ahl 1984.
40 chapter 2

panegyrics, who were forced to praise the emperor during his lifetime, found a
way to distance themselves from this praise by writing ambiguous texts.
This position has found supporters, but it has not been generally accepted.37
Intermediate interpretations concede that the panegyrical texts do commu-
nicate both praise and anxiety, as we have seen interpreting the texts about
Domitian’s dinners. Focusing on the reader instead of the author, Stuart Hall
has coined the term ‘preferred reading’, by which he refers to a reading of the
text by a recipient who decodes the prevailing dominant code of the text in
a non-oppositional way.38 That is to say, in a preferred reading a recipient of a
text of Statius would read the text as praise of Domitian. Lisa Cordes has shown
that panegyrical authors under Nero and Domitian employ a major rhetorical
effort to secure this preferred reading and create ‘safe praise’.39
Nevertheless, it is not impossible to read these texts against their preferred
reading, and analysing texts as literary expressions of social discourses entails a
commitment to valuing their ambivalence. The reading of the text may be inde-
pendent of the original intention of the author, no matter whether that was
sincere praise, irony, or critique, or indeed if it was meant to be ambivalent. It
depends rather on the codes used to decipher the texts, which may vary, espe-
cially after an emperor’s death.40 In fact, authors who lived (and published)
both under Domitian and after his death encourage their recipients to read
their old texts differently under the new circumstances. They offer a new code,
we could say, to read their old texts. Martial constructs a persona of himself as
a poet who was forced to praise the autocratic emperor Domitian and who can
tell the truth only now after Domitian’s death (Mart. 10.72).41 Discourse ana-
lysis would not follow Tacitus when he claims that one can easily distinguish
between genuine and insincere praise for emperors: nec occultum est, quando
ex veritate, quando adumbrata laetitia facta imperatorum celebrentur (Tac. Ann.
4.31.2). It would, rather, read this statement as an invitation to categorize pan-
egyrics for (retrospectively) bad emperors not just as ambiguous, but as having
even become insincere by hindsight, under the changed rules and codes of a
new regime.

37 E.g. Klodt 2001 speaks for ambiguity, Römer 1994 argues against it. See also Charles 2002,
27–29 challenging the concept of safe criticism in Martial and Statius. Cf. also Hinds 1988,
27 on Ovid’s panegyric (but also panegyric in general): “the matter of literary subversion
is not susceptible of final proof”.
38 See Hall 1980. The concept is taken up and applied to imperial panegyric by Cordes 2017, 9.
39 See Cordes 2017, 85; 308.
40 Cf. p.36.
41 On Martial and Pliny rejecting their earlier depictions of Domitian see Cordes 2017, 166–
171.
theory and history 41

By the ‘critical discourse’ I mean statements that exhibit distance, rejection,

and criticism with regard to the emperor and his representation. ‘Critical’ is
here used in the sense of ‘negative’ or ‘dissenting’.42 This discourse is espe-
cially manifest after the emperor’s death. Its most important medium is crit-
ical historiography, which is why I also speak of ‘historiographical discourse’.43
Tacitus and Cassius Dio are exponents of the historiographical discourse on
Nero and Domitian,44 Suetonius of the biographical discourse on them, which
is, however, closely intertwined with the historiographical discourse.45 As the
sample reading of texts on imperial dinners has shown, we find largely the
same topics and motifs of imperial representation in critical discourse as in
panegyrical discourse. These two discourses seem to be connected: critical
discourse is somehow responding to panegyrical discourse when Domitian’s
divine distance, as presented in panegyrics, receives a responding interpreta-
tion in critical texts as, rather, unsociability with humans.46 Such responses to
panegyrical accounts composed during an emperor’s lifetime are not confined
to historiography that was written after an emperor’s death.47 The response
of post-Neronian and post-Domitianic historiography to earlier panegyrical
accounts of these emperors is only part of a complex process of interactions, of
which we can capture different moments: it is highly probable that Flavian his-
toriography (Fabius Rusticus, Cluvius Rufus) stood at a distance from Neronian

42 Although the adjective ‘critical’ is used in a number of other literary contexts I prefer
‘critical discourse’ to ‘negative discourse’ or ‘dissenting discourse’ because, more expli-
citly than the latter terms, ‘critical’ also encompasses the process of judgement and fault-
finding that is typical of the discourse that reacts to panegyrical discourse.
43 Other critical texts are the Octavia, several epigrams in Martial, Juvenal (Satires 4 and
10), Pliny’s Panegyricus, Philostratus’ The Life of Apollonius of Tyana, and Pseudo-Lucian’s
Nero. See e.g. Juv. 8. 215–221 on Nero’s crimes (the matricide, other family murders) and
Nero as singer and poet of an epic on Troy.
44 Potentially, the term ‘historiographical discourse’ could refer to the works of all histori-
ographers, but in a study focusing on Nero and Domitian it is naturally confined to authors
who wrote about them.
45 Cf. Introduction. The same is true for Tacitus’ Agricola, a biography with traits of a pan-
egyrical laudatio funebris and of historiography.
46 Cf. p.30–31.
47 Nero’s imperial representation is evaluated as negative transgression also e.g. in Stat. Silv.
2.7; 5.2.33; Mart. 7.45; Mart. Spect. 2; 28 and in the Octavia, Domitian’s representation in
Juvenal and Pliny’s Panegyricus. Especially the Pseudo-Senecan praetexta Octavia often
shows the same strategies as historiographical literature. It reacts to concepts of imper-
ial representation advanced by Seneca in his De clementia. Whereas the historical Seneca
allowed the emperor unrestricted and absolute power in De clementia, the figure Seneca
in the Octavia modifies and takes back this unlimited form of power (see Manuwald 2002;
Cordes 2017, 208–209). Cf. also Cordes 2017, 210–213 on Sen. Clem. 1.5.4 and Oct. 495–498.
42 chapter 2

panegyric;48 then Domitianic panegyric reacted to critical readings of Neronian

panegyric by developing new and safer forms of praise;49 both historiography
under Trajan (Tacitus) and panegyric for Trajan (Pliny) reacted to this Domi-
tianic panegyric;50 later Severan historiography (Cassius Dio) was responding
to Severan panegyric (Septimius Severus, Aelius Antipater).51
The fact that we can read critical discourse after the emperor’s death as a
reaction to panegyrical discourse during his lifetime does not mean, however,
that these discourses are strictly confined to certain periods of time. It means
only that different discourses become manifest under certain circumstances
and are concealed under other circumstances. We can assume that there were
hidden discourses with negative expressions about Nero and Domitian during
their reigns, and probably also positive expressions after their death.52 But they
have left little or no trace, for example because their only medium was oral, and
neither point of view was allowed to become part of the official discourse of its
time.53 This is why there is little or no trace of these expressions of unofficial
discourses. When Tacitus and Pliny insist that they could not say what they
really thought under Domitian before his death they are constructing a hidden
discourse by hindsight.54
Because of this constructivist view of the production of texts and knowledge,
discourse analysis does not inquire into the truth of statements and does not
aim to (re)construct historical facts.55 The prevailing interest does not lie in
asking whether something is true, but when, why, and how it is valid to say
or to express something and not valid to say or express something else. This
validity varies because different discourses and social worlds have different
interests.56 There are both synchronic and diachronic differences in how they

48 See Hose/Fuhrer 2014, 18.

49 See Cordes 2017, 317–320.
50 For Tacitus see chapter 3; for Pliny see Cordes 2017, 170–171; 198–203.
51 Cf. Rubin 1980, 133–193; Sidebottom 2007, 55; see also p.181–182.
52 For traces of positive post mortem discourses on Nero and Domitian cf. Flower 2006, 201;
208; 211; 239. See also Dio Chrys. Or. 21.10 for positive images of Nero.
53 This is also proposed by Seelentag 2004, 487–492, when he analyses positive and negative
images of Trajan. The negative post mortem image of Trajan as we find it in Cassius Dio
(of which Seelentag finds traces in Suetonius) must have existed already during his life-
time. For official and unofficial discourses cf. Schulz 2015 drawing on Bourdieu’s concept
of the ‘official discourse’ (Bourdieu 1987/1992) and Scott’s concept of ‘public’ and ‘hidden
transcripts’ (Scott 1990).
54 On the construction of hidden discourses in Tacitus see Schulz 2015.
55 Cf. p.29–32 on the texts on imperial dinners.
56 The Neronian philosophical discourse on eating, for example, although also critical of lux-
ury, has a very different interest from the discourse on imperial representation. It puts
theory and history 43

interpret texts, and these differences are independent of the author’s original
intentions. Texts are thereby read not as sources but as examples that allow us
a glimpse of a certain discourse. Thus, discourse analysis is different from Quel-
lenforschung.57 It does not look at one text as the direct source of another text
and try to prove dependences of transmitted (or lost) texts. Consequently the
question whether the historians Tacitus and Cassius Dio and the biographer
Suetonius directly read Seneca, Lucan, Martial, and Statius is not raised. We
can assume that the ideas and modes of expressions in these texts lived on as
part of the panegyrical discourse of imperial representation.58 The focus is on
the influence and literary interactions of whole discourses.
Indeed, motifs and topics praising imperial representation for its transgres-
sion in panegyrical discourse offered modes of speaking to which critical dis-
course was invited to react. When after the death of an emperor new expres-
sions of hitherto hidden views were allowed, this was partly done by refuting—
by deconstructing—old statements. Originally positive transgression is turned
into something negative. The positive or at least neutral image that is construc-
ted in a discourse affirmative of the emperor’s representation is deconstructed
in historiographical discourse.
I have chosen the term ‘deconstruction’ to refer to the methodology of a set of
mechanisms in critical, mainly historiographical texts that aim to create a neg-
ative depiction of an emperor who is otherwise praised or could be imagined
as praiseworthy. ‘Deconstruction’ is, of course, also a philosophical term intro-
duced by Jacques Derrida. Derrida did not think of ‘deconstruction’ as a unified
or consistent theory and did not (want to) define it.59 The term has become a
catchword applied in several cultural contexts,60 at times leading far away from
Derrida’s ideas.61 In literary theory, it usually describes a method of critical ana-

emphasis on describing disgust and the physical problems caused by the wrong nutrition
(cf. Stein-Hölkeskamp 2002, 12–13). Bad health and disgust are not discussed in histori-
ographical discourse, by contrast, when imperial dinners are depicted.
57 Cf. Potter’s overview of the aims and methods of Quellenforschung in Potter 1999, 90–95.
58 Cf. Hose/Fuhrer 2014, 20.
59 To clearly define ‘deconstruction’, which would be to “point to a single, fixed, definite
meaning which stands behind and apart from all its uses”, would precisely miss the philo-
sophical point of Derridean deconstruction (Thomson 2006, 300; cf. Rapaport 2001, xi–xii
on Derrida’s idea of deconstruction as a “differentiated movement”; see also Rapaport
2001, 147; 149 on [not] defining Derridean deconstruction). Derrida develops his philo-
sophy of deconstruction by taking up Heidegger’s term “Destruktion”, for which see Evans
1991, xix–xx.
60 Cf. Rapaport 2001, 1; Habib 2005, 649.
61 See Thomson 2006, 298 for the “popularization of the term ‘deconstruction’”. Rapaport
44 chapter 2

lysis that a modern scholar applies to a literary text to demonstrate that this
text challenges its own meaning or creates multiple, even contradictory mean-
ings.62 I employ this term because I too focus on variable, non-fixed meanings
of texts. The process of deconstruction in historiography that I analyse is both
subversive and creative, and aims at a transformation of thinking, a feature
that it shares with deconstruction in the traditional sense.63 But departing from
the traditional usage of the term, I analyse how one text or discourse reacts to
and comments on another text or discourse (not on itself) and thereby tries to
assign a new meaning to its message. In this study, it is thus not the modern
critic who is doing the deconstruction. Rather, I introduce a novel and ori-
ginal approach by looking at the authors Tacitus, Cassius Dio, and Suetonius as
deconstructing Nero and Domitian. I will analyse the process and components
of the deconstruction that the authors undertake by drawing on other critical
terms and concepts, for example from the field of narratology (such as ‘focal-
ization’, ‘metalepsis’/‘paralepsis’), and memory studies (such as ‘hot memory’).
They provide a toolkit with which the literary techniques of the deconstruction
process can be analysed in the texts.
An important element of the deconstruction that the authors are undertak-
ing is the aforementioned re-coding of formerly positive codes: the negative
depiction is implicitly set against a positive foil, which was constructed or could
be constructed in a different, panegyrical discourse. This panegyrical discourse
includes media of imperial representation other than literature and it also
includes the aspects of aura and atmosphere, which are of great importance for
an emperor. What people know about their leader may be less important than
how they feel about him. Support for a leader may be based more on having a
good feeling about him than on getting the facts about him right. Many texts of

2001 deals with the reception of Derrida in Anglo-American academies. For the develop-
ment of Derridean techniques by the Yale critics Paul de Man, J. Hillis Miller, Geoffrey
Hartman, Barbara Johnson, and Harold Bloom see Habib 2015, 663, and for criticism on
the Yale School’s reception of Derrida see Rapaport 2001, 3–4. McQuillan 2012 presents
essays that all involve deconstruction without Derrida.
62 Cf. Habib 2005, 650; Thomson 2006, 312; 314–317. A deconstructive reading of a text as
practised by Derrida attempts among other things “to display logocentric operations in
the text, (…) its use of presuppositions or transcendental signifieds” (Habib 2015, 654),
and, more generally, the “critical questioning of philosophical assumptions” (Thomson
2006, 300), elements which do not play a role in this study. See also Culler 1983, 227–280,
for examples of deconstructive criticism.
63 Derrida’s deconstruction has often been reproached for being only destructive and neg-
ative, see Habib 2015, 664. See, however, Thomson 2006, 204 for constructive aspects of
Derridean deconstruction.
theory and history 45

Tacitus, Cassius Dio, and Suetonius, but also many in the panegyrical discourse,
are based on events that caused ambivalent emotions or emotions that could
easily switch. Critical texts therefore draw on depictions of emotions, and on
the arousal of emotions in their readers, in order to create persuasive images of
emperors.
As the critical or historiographical discourse reacts to the panegyrical dis-
course, we can observe a part of the process of negotiation over imperial rep-
resentation that was conducted between the princeps and the Roman elite,
as we saw already regarding the motif of the imperial dinner. But different
social groups or cultural memories evaluate Nero and Domitian differently. The
impression one gets from reading Tacitus, Cassius Dio, and Suetonius is that
they were considered to be bad emperors relatively soon and uniformly. But
this is only their image in the cultural memory of the Roman elite. Non-elite and
non-Roman cultural memories show other images of the two emperors. Nero’s
popularity with the people and in the provinces is attested.64 Otho’s and Vitel-
lius’ references to Nero during the year of the four emperors and the appear-
ance of the falsi Nerones illustrate that he still had supporters after his death.65
Edward Champlin has questioned whether the term damnatio memoriae is
appropriate for Nero at all.66 Many of Domitian’s actions as emperor offered
plenty of potential for a positive interpretation even after his death.67 The city
of Aphrodisias, for example, did not actively pursue Domitian’s damnatio.68

64 See Witschel 2006, 101–102.

65 For the falsi Nerones cf. Champlin 2003, 10–12: we know of three falsi Nerones, who
appeared in March 69 CE in Greece, in 79/81CE in Asia (Terentius Maximus), and in
88/89 CE. Cf. Dio Chrys. Or. 21.10 for a literary allusion to the falsi Nerones. See also Varner
2004, 81–83 for positive images of Nero after his death.
66 Cf. Champlin 2003, 29: “Nero’s memory was not condemned”; “indeed the funeral had been
splendid and normal, his statues reappeared in the Forum, and his acts as emperor were
not abolished by the senate or his successors”. See also Flower 2006, 197–233 for the nego-
tiations of memory and the memory sanctions on Nero: for example, there is no pattern
to the erasures in his inscriptions.
67 If Trajan had decided to point out the continuity of his reign with the Flavians and Domi-
tian rather than the break from them, he could have styled Domitian as a successful mil-
itary leader against the German tribes and defender of the Empire’s borders, as a great
builder and benefactor of Rome, and as a guardian of discipline (see Seelentag 2004,
493–494). What is more, Trajan himself offered many opportunities for a coding as bad
emperor, which were not taken, however: he was victorious over the Dacians only in his
second war; he adopted his victory-name too soon; he was absent from Rome for a long
time, which prevented regular communication with the senate (see Seelentag 2004, 494–
495).
68 See Varner 2004, 134 on the survival of a statue of Domitian in Aphrodisias and the
autonomy of individual cities in responding to damnatio memoriae.
46 chapter 2

He was popular with the soldiers. And Trajan, despite his overall distance from
Domitian, nonetheless continued some of his elements of imperial represent-
ation.69
Early Jewish and Christian literature treats Nero and Domitian differently.
Their depictions depend on purposes linked to the cultural identity of Jews and
Christians, their relationship with each other as well as with Rome, and also
concern alleged persecutors of the Christians.70 In most texts (Fifth Sibylline
Oracle, Martyrdom and Ascension of Isaiah, Gospel of Luke) Nero is demonic-
ally negative while Domitian is merely dull.71 While Christian authors such as
Lactantius and Eusebius associate their eccentric imperial representation with
persecutions of Christians, two Jewish texts portray Nero and Domitian as the
good opposites of tyrants: Nero, persecutor of the Christians, is positive in a
piece of rabbinic literature (bGit56a);72 Domitian, whose wars in Europe may
have seemed like a relief between the Jewish wars of Vespasian/Titus and Tra-
jan, is even praised in the Twelfth Sibylline Oracle (12Sib124–142).73

3 Literature and Persuasiveness

Different social groups such as the Roman elite, the Roman people, Roman sol-
diers, Jewish communities, and Christian communities, remembered Nero and
Domitian in very different ways. Since Roman historiography and, in part, bio-
graphy was written by members of the Roman elite, it was closely connected

69 Cf. Bönisch-Meyer/Witschel 2014, 111; 140 on Trajan adopting Domitian’s official victory
title Germanicus and on sacratissimus as an unofficial epithet used of both Domitian and
Trajan; Wolters/Ziegert 2014, 62; 70 on Trajan adopting Domitian’s pose as Jupiter on coins.
For Trajan’s continuation of Domitian’s politics see already Waters 1969.
70 For this summary of Jewish-Christian literature about Nero and Domitian see Backhaus
2014.
71 Cf. Champlin 2003, 14; 17–19; Backhaus 2014, 384; 390. The Book of Revelation, to be dated
under Domitian or shortly afterwards, with its negative portrayal of both Nero and Domi-
tian, is an exception; see Backhaus 2014, 379; 395, who points out that the Book of Revela-
tion should be read as documenting the perception of crisis of a certain group, but not as
a document typical of the province of Asia under Domitian. See also Mucha 2015, 360–361
for Nero-Domitian analogies in the Book of Revelation.
72 For positive traits of Nero in Jewish and Christian texts cf. Champlin 2003, 15 on the Fifth
Sibylline Oracle and Backhaus 2014, 392 on the rabbinic Babylonian Talmud, Gittin.
73 See Backhaus 2014, 392: from a Jewish perspective Vespasian and Titus, and Trajan and
Hadrian are much more closely connected with the Jewish-Roman wars and tensions than
Domitian, whose reign, intervening between these emperors, appears peaceful in con-
trast.
theory and history 47

with the cultural memory of that group. In Roman society, historiography is not
distinct from memory.74 Roman historiography can rather be considered a cru-
cial medium of elite cultural memory. Emperors and their representation are
not remembered the way they really were, if that is possible in any medium at
all.75 They are depicted the way the elite wanted them to be remembered. The
damnatio memoriae as enacted in Roman historiography is thus not a denial
of memory. It rather refers to a specific way of remembering and forgetting, of
re-coding elements of cultural memory.76
But Roman historiography is more than just part of elite cultural memory,
as becomes clear when we think of its function regarding interactions with the
Roman emperor. Roman historiography is ‘intentional history’ in two senses.77
It reassures the Roman elite about their image of Roman history and Roman
emperors and, with regard to the process of negotiations between emperor
and aristocracy, it makes offers to the emperor and future emperors about what
the Roman elite is willing to accept and what not. Many points of criticism on
imperial behaviour can be conceived as deviations from the imperial role as
seen by the elite. What exactly counted as deviance had to be negotiated again
and again. We have seen that the boundary of positive extravagance and lav-
ish luxury at imperial dinners was not fixed: extravagance only became luxury
when it was evaluated as such by a given author.78 By confirming or mostly cri-
ticizing the transgression of certain forms of imperial representation, Roman
historiography aims to implement particular norms and define boundaries of
imperial representation.79 Members of the same social group and emperors

74 For the closeness of history and memory in Greece and Rome cf. Shrimpton 1997, 15; Gow-
ing 2005, 11–12; see Burke 1991 more generally. That Roman historiography is part of Roman
elite collective memory needs to be pointed out, since Maurice Halbwachs, whose influ-
ential work stands at the beginning of modern memory studies, claimed that history and
memory could be clearly separated from one another (see Assmann 2001, 28–31). When
he wrote about history and historiography, however, he apparently had a very positivistic
branch of historiography in mind.
75 Cf. Lorenz 1997, 17–34, and his instructive chapter on facts and interpretation, in which
he underlines that even ‘historical facts’ are always constructed, at least insofar as they
are always given from a certain perspective and in a certain language and wording, which
automatically implies interpretation.
76 Cf. Flaig 1999, 66–67; Rathmann 2014, 86.
77 For the term see Foxhall et al. 2010, 9–14 where intentional history is defined as “the pro-
jection in time of the elements of subjective, self-conscious self-categorization which
construct the identity of a group as a group”.
78 Cf. Goddard 1994, 79.
79 For the norms relevant to the Roman elite as depicted in imperial historiography cf. Viel-
berg 1996; for the construction of boundaries see Hose 2011.
48 chapter 2

alike are both presented with a narrative about history that is intended to be
persuasive, in the sense that the recipients are expected to agree on and accept
this version of history.
Since the texts written for these purposes by rhetorically trained historians
create persuasive narratives, we have to analyse them as literature, as artfully
crafted texts. Their narratives involve the disposition of the narrated events,
temporal and logical connections such as causation, and explicit and implicit
characterization. This narrative structure of ancient historiography can be ana-
lysed with the tools of narratology, literary theory, and rhetoric.80 I will hence
often talk about ‘the narrators’ Tacitus, Cassius Dio, and Suetonius to underline
the importance of the narrative devices they apply and to draw attention to
the fact that the narratives are constructions by a narrator, not ‘natural’ stories
given by a naive witness. The narrative structure is also important from a rhet-
orical point of view. Quintilian considers the main purpose of historiography
to be to narrate, and he sees it as close to poetry in its stylistic devices and rel-
evance to the orator’s training in style ([Historia] … est enim proxima poetis,
Quint. Inst. 10.1.31). Although he claims that the purpose of historiography is
not to prove something, in the sense that an orator wants to prove something in
a speech, historiography is to a high degree a work of rhetoric.81 Just as panegyr-
ical literature employs several rhetorical strategies in portraying a praiseworthy
image of an emperor, historiography and biography apply rhetorical strategies
when they deconstruct these images. Despite the several different approaches
that Tacitus, Suetonius, and Cassius Dio apply, they share a common set of rhet-
orical operations in their deconstruction of imperial images.82
In this perspective on historiography as a medium of negotiation between
Roman elite and emperor, the persona of the trustworthy historian aiming to

80 Narratological analysis of classical historiography was prompted by the work of Hayden

White, although he focuses on nineteenth-century historians and philosophers of history.
He develops four parallel quadripartite schemes of archetypes of emplotment (Romance,
Tragedy, Comedy, Satire), forms of formal argument (Formist theory, Mechanistic theory,
Organicist theory, Contextualist theory), ideological implications (Anarchism, Radical-
ism, Conservatism, Liberalism), and Tropes (Metaphor, Metonymy, Synecdoche, Irony).
While I consider these schemes less relevant for analysing classical texts, his principal
idea is important for ancient historiography too: the narrative modelling of a text (emplot-
ment) determines how history is written and gives a specific meaning to it. A historian is
influenced by certain poetic—we could say: literary—concepts that determine his view
of his history and his presentation of it. See White 51985, esp. 7–42.
81 Quintilian is here distinguishing historiography from speeches, not the art of history from
the art of rhetoric. Someone who writes historiography may still draw on the art of rhet-
oric.
82 See Appendix.
theory and history 49

narrate the truth can be considered one of the strategies of persuasion, and not
as proof of an objective and neutral report.83 Historiography does, of course,
have a major factual dimension, a strong relationship with the real world.84 It
is about emperors who really lived. Even if we do not claim to reconstruct this
real world, we have to take into account the fact that Roman emperors were
historical figures, that they had different characters and interacted with people.
Some of the emperors had been contemporaries of people who were still alive
at the time of writing. Whatever one contended about these emperors thus had
to seem at least probable and not be too easily refuted. A textual depiction does
not have to be true to be persuasive; but things are more persuasive when they
appear true, which is why the belief in and struggle for truth—often opposed to
rhetoric and style—is underlined in the texts.85 Depictions of emperors, which
are in fact constructions in the texts, thus appear as reconstructions of real-
ity. The following three main parts of this book will analyse the strategies that
Tacitus, Cassius Dio, and Suetonius apply in their negative depictions of Nero
and Domitian and their imperial representation: By which literary devices is
imperial representation deconstructed? Which topics interest the authors and
which literary strategies do they share? What are the specific means of decon-
struction in Tacitus, Cassius Dio, and Suetonius? To which literary and political
discourses is each mode of deconstruction connected?

83 Cf. Marincola 1997, 1 for the historian’s “literary authority, the rhetorical means by which
the ancient historian claims the competence to narrate and explain the past, and simul-
taneously constructs a persona that the audience will find persuasive and believable”.
84 Cf. Pausch 2011, 9–12 with a narratological perspective on the relationship of author and
narrator.
85 See e.g. Tac. Agr. 10.1 who distances his own knowledge (rerum fides) from earlier authors
writing with eloquentia.
 part 2
Tacitus: Deconstruction and Uncertainty

∵
Introduction to Part 2

This second part of the book studies the Tacitean texts as part of the discourse
on Nero’s and Domitian’s imperial representation, by which I mean the image
of the emperor constructed by himself, his entourage (e.g. advisers), or oth-
ers (e.g. poets), in areas such as military actions, building programmes, and
divinity, areas that I will refer to as the ‘topics of imperial representation’. These
chapters will instruct the reader in how to read these texts as ‘deconstruction’: it
argues that Tacitus deals with all the topics of imperial representation and that
he applies a variety of literary strategies to deconstruct Nero’s and Domitian’s
representation; however, Tacitean deconstruction, his reshaping of a positive or
neutral topic into a negative one, is accompanied by uncertainty about these
strategies and about interpretation in general.
The focus of interest of this part of the book lies in the literary technique of
the texts that negotiate this historical topic1 and on their potential effects, not
on the personality of the historical author Tacitus.2 I will read the depiction and
deconstruction of imperial representation, historical events, and the figures of
Nero and Domitian as creations of the rhetoric3 of the text, and I will discuss
the strategies that create these textual images.4 These strategies are all part of
Tacitus’ toolkit of deconstruction. Since these strategies are to be studied as a
general Tacitean technique relevant not only to Tacitus’ depiction of Nero and
Domitian, we will also look at text passages other than Annals 13 to 16 on the
reign of Nero and the passages from the Agricola and the early books of the

1 Cf. Vielberg 1990, 169 on the divide between historians and philologists in scholarship on
Tacitus.
2 I therefore do not aim to reconstruct the impact of Tacitus’ own biography (e.g. his Domitian-
erlebnis) or his political attitude to his work, the appearance of his own voice in his texts (as
does e.g. Pelling 2009b), or the mental background and context of his period (as does e.g.
Rudich 1993).
3 I thus take the opposite view to Aubrion 1985, who reads Tacitean rhetoric as a factor in and
means of the historian’s impartiality and objective attitude (cf. Aubrion 1985, 693: “car la rhé-
torique est tout autant un instrument d’ investigation de la réalité qu’un art de l’expression”;
see, however, also Aubrion 1985, 129: “Certes il y a lieu de regretter un certain nombre
d’ éléments qui nous paraissent contraires à l’ objectivité historique”). Cf. Santoro L’Hoir 2006,
251–252 on Tacitus and rhetoric.
4 Syme’s views on Tacitus (see e.g. Syme 1958, 437: “the portrayal of Nero corresponds in large
measure with the facts”) are still influential, though often criticized (see e.g. Rubiés 1994, 40:
“Tacitus’ Nero is a literary figure, rather than the casual result of impartial historical recon-
struction”). The aspect of literary constructions in ancient historiography is underlined e.g.
in the articles in Elsner/Masters 1994 and by Haynes 2003.

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54 introduction to part 2

Histories on Domitian.5 Due to the amount of surviving text in each case, more
attention will be given to Tacitus’ Nero than to Tacitus’ Domitian.
Chapter 3 presents an overview of the motifs of Nero’s and Domitian’s imper-
ial representation. The focus will be on how certain topics dealt with in the
contemporary representation and panegyrical texts reappear later in Tacitus
and are deconstructed. On some topics and aspects of Domitian’s representa-
tion, the surviving text does not allow a conclusion about how Domitian’s his-
torical and panegyrical representation was reflected by Tacitus. To supplement
the picture, we will sometimes draw on other critical texts such as Pliny’s Pan-
egyricus and Juvenal’s Satires. Chapter 4 moves on from the topics of imperial
representation to the literary strategies that deconstruct imperial representa-
tion in Tacitus, at times still with an eye on panegyrical literature but mainly
focusing now on the Annals, the Histories, and the Agricola. It analyses the
presentation of ‘facts’ and their connotations, the characters depicted, and
their motives, as well as the forms of logical construction that are described
in and which underlie the texts. To do so, it focuses on the rhetoricity of the
texts and integrates narratological approaches. Chapter 5 broadens the per-
spective to the specifically Tacitean context in which the strategies of decon-
structing imperial representation operate. Drawing on modern literary theories
that engage with textual uncertainty, we will analyse the role of alternative vari-
ants of events and explanations given in the text, and discuss the function of
binary oppositions within Tacitus’ interpretation of history.

5 I have read and used for some of my paraphrases the translations of Yardley 2008, Levene/Fyfe
1997, and Birley 2009, as well as current Loeb translations of Tacitus and other authors.
 chapter 3

Imperial Representation and Topics of

Deconstruction

1 Military Actions: From Peace to Inactivity, from Victory to

Hypocrisy

1.1 Recoding Peace and Victory

One of the emperor’s main roles and one of his main topics of representation
was as military leader. Not only the soldiers, but also the senate and people
expected the Roman emperor to fulfil this role, which could be expressed in
different media, such as nomenclature, coins, statues and buildings, and lit-
erature. A literary account of what exactly was expected of the emperor as
military leader is provided by Tacitus’ contemporary Pliny the Younger. From
his image of Trajan in the Panegyricus we get a glimpse of the ideal military
leader: he loves peace (Plin. Pan. 16.1) but terrifies enemies (Plin. Pan. 12.1) and
is victorious in bloody battles (Plin. Pan. 12.1); he is modest about his success
and does not care too much for triumphs (Plin. Pan. 16.1). He is admired by his
own men (Plin. Pan. 13.1) and behaves like a fellow soldier (Plin. Pan. 13.1; 15.5),
but also guides the troops and knows what they need (Plin. Pan. 13.2–3), while
preserving the discipline of the army (Plin. Pan. 18.1).1
Just as Pliny’s Panegyricus participates in the discourse on Trajan’s military
virtues, panegyrical literature on Nero and Domitian is part of the correspond-
ing discourses on them and reflects their historical forms of representation in
the military sphere. The historical Nero and Domitian provide us with two very
different ways to incorporate military actions in imperial representation.2 Nero
never set much emphasis on military achievements during his reign. Accord-

1 Pliny succeeds in depicting Trajan both as superior and equal to his soldiers, both as impe-
rator and as commilito (cf. Rees 2001, 154–156). See also the description of Vespasian as a
model for military leadership in this sense in Tac. Hist. 2.5.1: Vespasianus acer militiae anteire
agmen, locum castris capere, noctu diuque consilio ac, si res posceret, manu hostibus obniti, cibo
fortuito, veste habituque vix a gregario milite discrepans (“Vespasian, who was passionate on
campaigns, headed the army on the march, chose the camping-ground, opposed the enemies
by night or day through his planning, and, if need be, the sword. He ate what he could get,
and dressed almost like a common soldier”).
2 See the comparison of Nero’s and Domitian’s military virtus in their imperial representation
in Bönisch-Meyer et al. 2014a, 439–442.

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56 chapter 3

ingly, panegyrical literature praises his time as an era of peace.3 And military
virtue is presented as outdated in the contemporary Laus Pisonis.4 The Flavian
Domitian, by contrast, made military success, especially against the German
tribes, the most important element of his imperial representation, which is
reflected for example in his coins and their legends, as well as in his use of
the innovative title Germanicus.5 Lots of literary accounts, especially Martial’s
books 7 and 8, but also Silius Italicus, Statius, Quintilian, and Frontinus, praise
his military actions and triumphs, as well as building endeavours such as the
equus Domitiani that express his military virtues.6 These different ways of rep-
resenting Nero’s and Domitian’s military actions as positive or neutral call for
different strategies of deconstruction in the critical discourse: Nero’s relatively
rare military actions are not interpreted positively as signs of a peaceful era, as
is done in the panegyrical discourse, but are re-coded as inactivity; Domitian’s
military endeavours are re-coded as fake success without real achievements.
Given that imperial historiography in general did not consider peace to be
a desirable good per se, it would have been a possible strategy for Tacitus to
pick up Neronian panegyrics and to criticize Nero’s times as too peaceful.7

3 Cf. p.88–91 on the motif of the aurea aetas in Neronian literature. The second Carmen Ein-
sidlense, however, puts some emphasis on the military aspect, or on the peace following war,
probably reacting to events in Britain. It describes Nero as Apollo ruling over the world (iam
regnat Apollo, Carm. Einsidl. 2.38), and hence as comparable to the Olympians (see Schubert
1998, 418).
4 See Laus Pisonis 22–25 with Rilinger 1996, 142–143.
5 The Flavians legitimated their dynasty by military success and added imperator to the nomen-
clature of the princeps (see Leberl 2004, 49). See Seelentag 2004, 116–121 and Witschel 2006,
103; 114–115 for military elements in Domitian’s imperial representation. The coins associate
Domitian with Victoria (see Leberl 2004, 46; cf. Leberl 2004, 45–46 on the Cancelleria Relief
with a personification of Victoria) and depict him as invincible (see Leberl 2004, 72). Domi-
tian triumphed over the Chatti in 83CE and 89 CE and had coins minted with the legend
Germanicus (in 83CE) and Germania capta (in 84CE), cf. Lund 1988, 209. For the title Ger-
manicus see also Leberl 2004, 48, and e.g. Mart. 2.2 and 5.2.7.
6 Domitian’s military conduct in the year 70CE is depicted positively by Flavius Josephus as
surpassing his age and befitting his father (Joseph. BJ 7.85–88; see also 4.646; 654). On pan-
egyrical literature about Domitian’s martial conduct (including Frontinus’ Strategemata) cf.
Charles 2002, 29–30: Frontinus started to criticize Domitian only after his death in his work
De aquae ductu urbis Romae. See also Leberl 2004, 143–167; 245–265. For the equus Domitiani
see Seelentag 2004, 338–341; Leberl 2004, 37. Statius gives us a literary account of it (Stat. Silv.
1.1), and Martial (8.44.7) may refer to it too.
7 War offered opportunities to achieve honours for soldiers, generals, principes, and Rome
itself. It was also an established idea in Roman historiography that foreign enemies keep
internal morals to a higher standard (cf. Sall. Cat. 10 on the fall of Carthage and its negat-
ive effect on society as a watershed for Roman history). Peace could therefore generally be
regarded as having negative effects on Roman power and virtues. For suspicions about peace
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 57

But Tacitus does not depict Nero’s times as completely without war. There
are longer military episodes about events in Germany (Ann. 13.53–57), in Bri-
tain (Ann. 14.29–39), and in Parthia and Armenia (Ann. 13.6–9; 13.34–41; 14.23–
26; 15.1–17; 15.24–31). In these passages, Nero is rarely mentioned, let alone
described as taking actions in war. It was, of course, common practice for an
emperor to have his generals lead wars without being present himself at the site
of the wars. But in that case an emperor could still be included in the narrative,
as reflecting on the situation or giving orders and influencing the events from
afar. Tiberius, for example, is present in the account of Germanicus’ campaigns:
he is not physically present at the front, but Tacitus describes his thoughts
about the events (e.g. id Tiberii animum altius penetravit, Ann. 1.69.3). It does
not strike the reader as odd when victory is awarded to Tiberius (Ann. 2.18).
Even Claudius is mentioned, although less often than in the case of Tiberius,
when campaigns during his reign are described (e.g. Ann. 11.19.3; 12.54.4). In
comparison with Tiberius and Claudius, Nero’s absence in the text stands out.
The three passages on Germany, Britain, and Parthia and Armenia just men-
tioned illustrate this in different ways. I will discuss them one by one. To start
with the section on the events in Germany (Ann. 13.53–57), it begins by draw-
ing attention to the actual leaders of the war and not to Nero: the situation
is described as quiet—because of the abilities of the commanders (ingenio
ducum, Ann. 13.53.1). In the whole section, Nero himself is mentioned only
twice, and both instances associate him with an unmilitary feature. The first
instance refers to Nero’s fear: the legate of Belgica, Aelius Gracilis, makes use of
Nero’s fear as an argument against further military actions in Gaul planned by
the commander Lucius Vetus (Ann. 13.53.3). In the second mention of Nero he
is shown—not at war, but at the theatre in Rome (Ann. 13.54.1–4). A lively and
sympathetic anecdote about Nero’s encounter with two Germans, to whom he
grants citizenship, contrasts sharply with his ensuing military action, a punish-
ment for the disobedience of the Frisians, which is expressed briefly and drily
by Tacitus (Ann. 13.54.4).8 The sympathy of the reader is guided more towards
the foreign tribes than to Nero.9

in general cf. Ann. 14.39.3: peace can be used as an honourable word for an inactive, idle
life (honestum pacis nomen segni otio imposuit); for negative effects of peace on soldiers cf.
Ann. 13.35.1. War is furthermore an important source for the historian’s depiction: among the
reasons why his account of Tiberius is allegedly restricted and without glory Tacitus men-
tions “peace unbroken or only weakly challenged” (immota quippe aut modice lacessita pax)
and “an emperor who is not interested in expanding the Empire” (princeps proferendi imperi
incuriosus) (Ann. 4.32.2).
8 Cf. Koestermann 1967, 341.
9 Cf. p.106–107.
58 chapter 3

Nero is also depicted as almost unconnected with the events in Britain (Ann.
14.29–39). He is mentioned at the beginning as profiteering from the testa-
ment of the adulatory commander Veranius (Ann. 14.29.1) and that of King
Prasutagus, who hoped to save his throne and his family by making Nero his
heir (Ann. 14.31.1). Then Nero disappears from the text until he is mentioned
again at the end of the passage: after the glorious Roman victory he increases
the strength of the army (Ann. 14.38.1), and he finally sends his freedman Poly-
clitus to review the situation in Britain (Ann. 14.39.1). But the Britons, so Tacitus,
regard Polyclitus as a joke (hostibus inrisui fuit, Ann. 14.39.2). With the spirit of
freedom still burning and not knowing the power of the freedmen, Tacitus’ Bri-
tons are amazed that a commander and an army that had brought such a great
war to an end should obey slaves (servitiis oboedirent, Ann. 14.39.2). In this sec-
tion on military events in Britain, not only is Nero’s participation in the events
indirect, but his action of sending a freedman to Britain results in derision and
so builds a stark contrast to the victory, which is depicted without mentioning
Nero at all (Ann. 14.37).
The description of events in Parthia and Armenia (Ann. 13.6–9; 13.34–41;
14.23–26; 15.1–17; 15.24–31)10 is characterized by the contrast between Nero and
Corbulo. In the first of five sections dealing with the topic (Ann. 13.6–9), Nero
is shown as relatively active and responsible, and as appreciative of the suc-
cess of his generals (Ann. 13.7.1; 13.9.3). However, his most welcome deed seems
to be the appointment of the general Corbulo to secure Armenia (Ann. 13.8.1).
Corbulo’s description as a virtuous, active, successful military commander (e.g.
Ann. 13.8.3) prepares for the contrast between him and Nero that dominates the
following passages on Parthia and Armenia. In the next section (Ann. 13.34–41),
which deals with the conquest of Armenia by Corbulo, the general is depic-
ted as an active military leader in full command and control of the situation.11
The success that results in the destruction of Artaxata is presented as Cor-
bulo’s. When finally Nero is hailed imperator because of this success (ob haec,
Ann. 13.41.4) the contrast between Corbulo’s active military success and Nero’s
receiving the honours for it, is felt deeply. The honours attributed to him thus
seem more surprising and misplaced than in the case of Tiberius, since the
reader has almost been led to forget Nero in the preceding passages on events

10 For the chronological (re-)arrangement of Tacitus’ account in these five passages see Syme
1958, 391–392. His summary of “Armenian affairs under Nero” nicely mirrors Tacitus’ text:
the focus is on Corbulo, the emperor is not mentioned.
11 Nero is mentioned only briefly at the beginning, as consul of the year 58 (Ann. 13.34.1),
and in the middle, when Corbulo advises Tiridates to turn to Nero with his requests (Ann.
13.37.5).
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 59

in Parthia. That Nero’s honours exceed what is appropriate is not only impli-
citly suggested, but is underlined by having Gaius Cassius declare that a whole
year would not suffice to offer to the gods all the prayers that had been decreed
(Ann. 13.41.4).
The third section on Parthia and Armenia (Ann. 14.23–26) depicts the end of
military operations and Corbulo’s taking up the governorship in Syria. Again,
Corbulo is the active and successful commander. Nero is only mentioned in
the context of the Hyrcanians, who send representatives to him with a peti-
tion for an alliance (Ann. 14.25.2), and at the appearance of Tigranes, which
changes the Roman politics in this area: Tigranes had been chosen by Nero to
take charge of the realm (Tigranes a Nerone ad capessendum imperium delectus,
Ann. 14.26.1). This decision of Nero will turn out to be unfortunate (cf. Ann. 15.1–
6). So, in the whole section, the reader is presented with only one decision by
Nero, and this is a bad one. The narrative on Parthia and Armenia is picked
up in a fourth section (Ann. 15.1–17), when Nero’s choice of Tigranes as new
king of Armenia has caused new problems. In the long account that follows,
Nero is mentioned only in the context of embassies or letters and reports
(Ann. 15.3.1; 15.5.4; 15.8.2; 15.14.3; 15.16.2; 15.17.2): this gives him a presence in
the text that points to his absence from the site of the war. When the focus
switches to Nero in Rome, it shows the setting up of victory trophies and arches
although the war is still ongoing (Ann. 15.18.1) and we see Nero at pains to con-
ceal his worries about these foreign events (Ann. 15.18.2).12 The end of these
Parthian affairs is reported shortly later in a fifth passage (Ann. 15.24–31) with
the acceptance of Tiridates as king of Armenia. Nero is first depicted as active
in consulting the leading men of Rome on whether they prefer a dangerous
war or a dishonourable peace: consuluit inter primores civitatis Nero, bellum
anceps an pax inhonesta placeret (Ann. 15.25.2). When the decision is presen-
ted in the next sentence, the grammar changes, and Nero disappears as active
grammatical subject. The decision, made by the group, is formulated in pass-
ive voice: nec dubitatum de bello (Ann. 15.25.2). The next decision, about who
should lead this war, is easily made. Corbulo is again chosen for the task. After
that, Nero is mentioned only as dealing with Paetus after his return to Rome
(Ann. 15.25.4), in the form of his portraits (Ann. 15.29.1–2; cf. Ann. 15.24.2), and
in relation to a letter written to him by Tiridates (Ann. 15.30.2). When Nero is
mentioned in the text, he does not appear as a successful military leader or
as capable of military decisions. The text points rather to Nero’s absence and
passivity.

12 On this passage see also p.113; 127.

60 chapter 3

Looking at these passages on foreign military campaigns in the Annals

together (Ann. 13.53–57 on Germany; Ann. 14.29–39 on Britain; Ann. 13.6–9;
13.34–41; 14.23–26; 15.1–17; 15.24–31 on Parthia/Armenia) we can say in summary
that they include only rare references to Nero. His commanders are depicted as
active military leaders, mostly in control of the situation and successful. When
Nero’s behaviour in Rome is shown, we see him at the theatre or allowing vic-
tory trophies to be erected without a victory. References to him, aside from
mentioning embassies, letters, and the like, are to his fear and his profit from
testaments and inheritances. There are few instances in which he really plays
an active part, and these actions either have a bad outcome, when the freedman
he sends to Britain causes derision and when the appointment of Tigranes as
Armenian king leads to more problems, or they are decisions that delegate the
real responsibility to Corbulo.
In the Annals, Nero’s absence from war is underlined in the text by two fur-
ther literary devices. First, the plausibility of his absence from the front and
his lack of interest in military matters is supported by his depiction as young
and dependent (Ann. 13.6), and as having a character that is just the opposite
of what a successful soldier or general would require. Second, when Nero is in
fact described as a military leader, or by language that usually depicts military
leaders, this is most often embedded in a negative context and used to his disad-
vantage. So, thanks to Nero, Tacitus states, Rome has become a conquered city
(in modum captivitatis nox agebatur, Ann. 13.25.2). Tacitus’ Nero is victor—but
over his own people, a people of slaves (publici servitii victor, Ann. 14.13.2). Sol-
diers are often associated with games, a context of representation that interests
Nero much more than military matters, as when Tacitus’ Nero has to reverse
his decision to withdraw soldiers from the games (Ann. 13.24.1; 13.25.4), and
when the Praetorians guard Nero’s Iuvenalia (accesserat cohors militum, Ann.
14.15.4).13
A different strategy of coding Nero’s inactivity and invisibility in military
matters is applied in the Agricola. In the famous ‘archaeology’ of Britain (Agr.
13.1–17.2) Nero’s name is simply left out: after divus Iulius (Agr. 13.1), divus Augus-
tus, Tiberius, Gaius Caesar (Agr. 13.2), and divus Claudius (Agr. 13.3), Nero is not
mentioned by name, while his commanders are, such as Suetonius Paulinus
(Agr. 14.3–16.3), who is also the subject of the sentence in Agr. 14.3. By contrast,
although Vespasian, as legate of Claudius, is depicted as responsible for the vic-
tory, Claudius, his emperor, is mentioned (Agr. 13.3). In its history of military

13 Cf. Edwards 1994, 90: “Nero’s only use for soldiers was as an audience for his theatrical
performances”.
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 61

conquest in Britain, the Agricola enacts a sort of damnatio memoriae on Nero.

His name is mentioned in other, negative contexts in the Agricola, namely with
reference to his reign, in which it was wise to be passive (Agr. 6), to his temple-
robbing (Agr. 6), and in a comparison with the other ‘tyrant’ Domitian (Agr.
45.2).
We could pointedly state that, while Nero appears just not interested in tradi-
tional military representation, the Tacitean Domitian appears too interested in
it. Although the account of Domitian’s own reign in the Histories is lost, we can
observe some strategies of deconstructing his military image in the Agricola
and in the early books of the Histories. In the Histories, the young Domitian is
depicted as not taking part in the fighting (Hist. 3.74.1; 4.85.2) and as timid (Hist.
3.59.3; postquam nihil hostile metuebatur, Hist. 3.86.3), as indulging in licentious
behaviour (et Domitiani indomitae libidines timebantur, Hist. 4.68.1),14 as libid-
inous and bold (Hist. 4.39.2), as someone who needs to be controlled,15 and as
capable of dissimulation.16 In the Agricola, the emperor Domitian holds that
the virtue of being a good military leader belongs to the emperor alone (ducis
boni imperatoriam virtutem esse, Agr. 39.2). Here Domitian is said to dread most
of all that a private individual might steal any military glory from him. And it is
presented as his thought, in the narrative mode of focalization, rather than as
explanation by the narrator, that if that should happen he would have in vain
silenced the processes of law (studia fori) and distinction in civilian professions
(civilium artium decus) (Agr. 39.2). The focalization of Domitian here adds to
the plausibility of the account given by Tacitus. Taking these text passages from
the Agricola and the Histories together, the Tacitean Domitian emerges as an
autocratic hypocrite who is anxious to present himself as victorious and who
envies the military success of others.
This tension between what Tacitus’ Domitian wants and what he is able
to do, makes him stage fake triumphs. His arts of hypocrisy and simulation

14 Cf. Hist. 4.2.1: nondum ad curas intentus, sed stupris et adulteriis filium principis agebat (“he
did not yet busy himself with the management of state affairs, but played the role of the
emperor’s son by devoting himself to rape and adultery”).
15 Cf. Hist. 4.51.2: Vespasianus … adversam de Domitiano famam accipit, tamquam terminos
aetatis et concessa filio egrederetur (“Vespasian received an unfavourable report of Domi-
tian, who seemed to be transgressing the boundaries of his young age and the concessions
allowed to a son”). See also Hist. 4.68.3 about Mucianus’ conduct towards Domitian (hic
moras nectens, quis flagrantem retineret).
16 Cf. Hist. 4.86.2: simplicitatis ac modestiae imagine in altitudinem conditus studiumque lit-
terarum et amorem carminum simulans (“he hid his thoughts from scrutiny beneath an
appearance of simplicity and modesty, feigning an interest in literature and a passion for
poetry”).
62 chapter 3

are prominently to the fore in the epilogue of the Agricola (39–46).17 Like
Tacitus’ contemporary and friend Pliny (Plin. Pan. 11.4; 16.1–3; 17.4) and like Cas-
sius Dio (67.4.1, referring to 83CE; 67.7.4, probably referring to 89 CE), Tacitus
reproaches Domitian for celebrating victories that were in fact no victories
at all (Agr. 39.1).18 The authors mentioned may not agree on which triumph
exactly was supposed to be the fake triumph, but they agree on the strategy
of deconstruction, namely to accuse Domitian of hypocrisy. Further, the Ger-
mania reflects indirectly on Domitian’s alleged fake triumph over the Chatti,
when Tacitus says sarcastically that Germania has been getting defeated for
quite some time already (tam diu Germania vincitur,19 Germ. 37.2) and that
in recent times German tribes were the object of triumphs rather than of
victories (nam proximis temporibus triumphati magis quam victi sunt, Germ.
37.5).20
Claiming that Domitian’s military achievements were fake or non-existent
can be considered a strategy of critical discourse that reacts to the oppos-
ite strategy in panegyrical discourse: positive accounts of Domitian’s military
endeavours aim to show that his representations are (at the least) appropri-
ate and match his success, and so legitimize the vast size of triumphal archs
and statues, for example. Critical historiography makes the triumphs Domitian
celebrated appear vain, while panegyrical poetry presents ‘triumphal’ events
as bigger than they were. We can see this panegyrical strategy of exaggera-
tion in Martial’s epigrams on Domitian’s adventus after the Second Panno-
nian War.21 The historical Domitian had unexpectedly declined a triumph in
93 CE. Martial compensates for this lack of a triumph in his epigrams, for
example by describing Domitian’s adventus in Rome in terms similar to a tri-
umph (Mart. 8.8; 8.11; 8.21; 8.65) and by depicting hyperbolically the events at

17 See also p.115–119 on character depiction as device of deconstruction.

18 This accusation probably refers to the triumph of 83CE, which was received positively
in contemporary literature. For positive depictions of Domitian during the campaign
see Frontin. Str. 2.11.7; 2.3.23. For the historical background see Seelentag 2004, 116–
119.
19 Cf. the structure of the opening sentence of Agricola’s speech before the battle at Mons
Graupius: septimus annus est, commilitones, ex quo … Britanniam vicistis (“it is now the sev-
enth year since you conquered Britain”, Agr. 33.2). The different use of the tenses (vincitur
vs. vicistis) nicely brings out the sense: Tacitus’ Agricola considers Britannia to have been
truly defeated, but Tacitus claims that Germania is still being defeated.
20 This passage can be read as an exhortation addressed to Trajan to take action against the
German tribes. For the historical background see Perl 1990, 229: Nerva and Trajan also
took the name Germanicus at the end of 97, “vom Kaiser Trajan erwartete er [sc. Tacitus]
nunmehr Taten”.
21 For these poems see Schöffel 2002, 191–192, on whose analysis my summary draws.
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 63

the site of the war (Mart. 8.2; 8.11). The last epigram of this series (Mart. 8.65)
presents a description of the triumphal buildings, the temple of Fortuna Redux,
and a triumphal arch or gate (arcus, porta).22 The triumphal gate is explicitly
praised as worthy of Domitian’s triumphs and, to enhance the panegyrical
effect, he is called Germanicus here: haec est digna tuis, Germanice, porta tri-
umphis (Mart. 8.65.11). What was in fact only an ovatio and not a triumph thus
appears equal to a triumph, at least in the panegyrical text. In panegyrical dis-
course the textual representation of a ‘fact’ (Domitian’s successful campaign)
enlarges the actual ‘fact’. Historiographical discourse picks up this hyperbolic
mode of speaking and turns it against itself by claiming of other instances, too,
that the ‘fact’ behind a form of representation was much smaller or even non-
existent.23

1.2 Comparing ‘Tyrants’: The Successful Other

We have already seen that the comparison of an emperor who is not a proper
military leader with someone who is, helps to underline the emperor’s inad-
equacy. This kind of comparison is a standard pattern of deconstruction. It can
be considered the opposite of the panegyrical strategy that shows an emperor
as superior to other military leaders, for example to Alexander and Caesar (e.g.
Stat. Silv. 1.1.84–90 on Domitian’s equestrian statue), but also, in Domitian’s
case, to Vespasian and Titus (Mart. 2.2.5–6).
Nero’s successful and capable counterpart is Corbulo, whose character is
introduced as the opposite of Nero’s character right from the start (Ann. 13.8.1;
13.8.3; 13.9.2) and as extremely powerful, even as powerful as Pompey (Ann.
15.25.3).24 But the most obvious contrast between an emperor and his com-
mander is the one between Domitian and Agricola in the Agricola. Domitian
is not mentioned in the military sections in the middle of the work, where the
focus is entirely on Agricola. Just as Corbulo is the counterpart of Nero, Agricola
is the antagonist of Domitian. He provides a guide for ideal conduct as military
leader: he gains early experience (Agr. 5.1), is a role model for his fellow soldiers

22 See Schöffel 2002, 542–543; Cordes 2017, 88–91. The triumphal arch does not belong to the
ovatio of 93CE, precisely because it was not a triumph, but is included here by Martial to
enhance this ‘minor triumph’.
23 The same strategy is applied by Pliny with regard to triumphal arches, imperial titles,
and the renaming of the months after the emperors. The emperors are said to have been
happy about it, although they did not deserve it: quasi meruissent laetabantur (Plin. Pan.
54.4).
24 For characters contrasting with Nero in the Annals, especially his victims in their death
scenes, see Keitel 2009. For the contrast of two characters or two situations as a means to
give unity to the work see Devillers 1994, 169–179.
64 chapter 3

(Agr. 18.2), and a provincial governor who is able to control himself and prac-
tises what he preaches (Agr. 19.2); he does not usurp others’ glory (Agr. 22.4),
and no one need fear his silence (Agr. 22.4).
What is more, the figure of Agricola serves as a link between the two emper-
ors. As Agricola was on military campaign in Britain already under Nero, as a fig-
ure he invites the reader to compare Nero and Domitian. While the focus of the
work is on Agricola’s conduct during Domitian’s reign, we also learn about Agri-
cola under Nero, whose times are characterized in similar terms to Domitian’s
era as dangerous times for military glory, distinction, and a great reputation:
militaris gloriae cupido, ingrata temporibus quibus sinistra erga eminentes inter-
pretatio nec minus periculum ex magna fama quam ex mala (Agr. 5.3). This may
be an allusion to Nero’s general Corbulo, whose relationship with his emperor
as depicted in the Annals has some structural similarities to Agricola’s relation-
ship with his emperor Domitian: they both show true imperial virtues, military
qualities above all, and loyal and modest behaviour towards an emperor who
is depicted in each case as tyrannical and incapable of military commands or
success.25 Under Nero, Agricola consequently adapts his behaviour. He reveals
a correct estimation and understanding of Nero’s reign: he decides to spend
the year between his quaestorship and the tribunate of the plebs, as well as his
actual year as tribune, in quiet inactivity, which Tacitus evaluates as wise: mox
inter quaesturam ac tribunatum plebis atque ipsum etiam tribunatus annum
quiete et otio transiit, gnarus sub Nerone temporum, quibus inertia pro sapien-
tia fuit (Agr. 6.3).

2 Building Endeavours: From Construction to Destruction

2.1 Materiality and Textuality

Both the historical Nero and the historical Domitian were prolific constructors
in and of Rome. In the following discussion, I understand building endeavours
and buildings in a broad sense as including monuments and statues. To men-
tion only the most important examples, Nero’s building endeavours include his

25 Already Tiberius, although not unqualified to be a military leader like Nero and Domitian,
is constantly compared to Germanicus, the ideal commander (see e.g. Ann. 2.72–73 for
the high estimation of Germanicus in general). Like Agricola and Corbulo, Germanicus
is extremely cautious and modest towards his emperor about his successes (Ann. 2.22.1).
For Germanicus as active military leader see for example Ann. 2.17; 2.20; see also his tri-
umph in Ann. 2.41. Like Agricola facing Domitian, Germanicus confirms his support for
and loyalty to Tiberius as he gets more successful (Ann. 1.34.1).
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 65

unfinished new palace, called the Golden House (domus aurea), his colossus,26
and the project of the Corinth canal.27 There are no encomia on the colossus of
Nero or his domus aurea, but Calpurnius Siculus praises Nero’s contemporary
Rome and his amphitheatre (Ecl. 7).28
On Domitian’s building activities more panegyrical literature has come
down to us. Among his constructions, his palace (Mart. 7.56; 8.36; 8.39; Stat.
Silv. 4.2.18–37) and his equestrian statue (Stat. Silv. 1.1) on the Forum stand
out.29 Panegyrical literature praises these monuments for their colossal size,30
their luxury,31 and their expression of the emperor’s sublime or divine person-
ality32 and care for his people.33 In general, Nero and Domitian are depicted
as rebuilders and renewers of Rome.34 It is important to underline that Nero’s
and Domitian’s buildings are presented extremely positively in contemporary
panegyrical discourse.35 Nero’s and Domitian’s buildings are coded as negative

26 For Nero’s colossus in panegyrical literature see Cordes 2017, 73–75.

27 For the Corinth canal see Alcock 1994, 102–103. See Ps.-Lucian Nero 1 for a positive evalu-
ation of this Neronian project.
28 See Cordes 2017, 63–67.
29 For Domitian’s palace on the Palatine and its representation of imperial power see Zanker
2004, 97 (arguing that the panegyrical representations of Domitian’s palace mirrored the
princeps’ own intended representation); Witschel 2006, 103. An overview of Domitian’s
building activities is provided by Darwall-Smith 1996, 101–252.
30 See e.g. the size of Nero’s amphitheatre in Calp. Ecl. 7.23–24 (vidimus in caelum trabibus
spectacula textis / surgere, Tarpeium prope despectantia culmen, “I saw a theatre that rose
to the sky on interwoven beams and almost looked down on the Capitoline summit”) and
of Domitian’s palace in Mart. 8.36.5–12, which is said to reach to the stars and to be smaller
only than Domitian himself (haec, Auguste, tamen, quae vertice sidera pulsat, / par domus
est caelo sed minor est domino, Mart. 8.36.11–12).
31 See e.g. Calp. Ecl. 7.41 on tantas … opes of Neronian buildings and Mart. 9.3 praising the
costs of Domitian’s temples.
32 Closely intertwined is the depiction of Domitian himself and his statue in Stat. Silv. 1.1 (see
Leberl 2004, 143). His palace buildings are associated with claims to divinity, see Leberl
2004, 54 and Cordes 2017, 86–87 on Stat. Silv. 4.2.18–26.
33 See Newlands 2002, 284–325; Nauta 2002, 388–391; Lorenz 2002, 200; Leberl 2004, 199–215;
Rühl 2006, 321–328.
34 See Calp. Ecl. 7.43–44 (en ego iam tremulus et vertice canus et ista / factus in urbe senex
stupeo tamen omnia certe), in which a man who has become old in Rome is stunned by
everything new in the city. Martial praises Domitian’s buildings, for example, by saying
that Rome threw off its ancient senility and took on the traits of its ruler itself (taliter
exuta est veterem nova Roma senectam / et sumpsit vultus praesidis ipsa sui, Mart. 5.7.3–
4), and that only Domitian has turned what was recently a huge tavern into Rome (nunc
Roma est, nuper magna taberna fuit, Mart. 7.61.10).
35 Cf. Elsner 1994, 123 on the lack of surviving panegyrical literature on Nero’s buildings: “no
positive account of his works has been allowed to survive, although there must have been
some”. There is, however, as already mentioned, Calp. Ecl. 7 (on the dating see p.39).
66 chapter 3

and deconstructed only after their deaths. This negative attitude towards the
two emperors has rightly been interpreted not as the reason for their fall, but
the result of it.36
Compared to their prominence in the city and in panegyrical discourse,
building endeavours are mentioned relatively rarely in Tacitus.37 With some
buildings, criticism may have been difficult since the successors of Nero and
Domitian continued to use them.38 The lack of references may additionally
be due, again, to the state of the surviving texts: the account of Nero’s reign
in the Annals is not complete, and the books on Domitian in the Histories are
lost. However, there are two other reasons for this lack of discussion of imperial
buildings, which pertain to their ontological status. First, it is more difficult for
a text to control the interpretation of a material object, especially if it still exists,
than of a performative act. People could go and compare their own impression
of, for example, a triumphal arch with its description in a text, but a description
of a triumph could not be checked. The act of a celebrated triumph was over
once it was finished. A triumphal arch, by contrast, was an unchanging ‘doc-
ument’ proving the emperor’s victories to all its spectators. Buildings are the
most ‘manifest’ medium of representation, potentially visible for everyone and
more durable than performances, “a requisite for eternal fame”.39
Second, imperial buildings are, like historiography, media of cultural mem-
ory.40 There is a certain rivalry between these two media, on which the medium
of the text reflects: building activities are explicitly termed as not important
enough for historiography and as suitable topics rather for the daily news (Ann.
13.31.1). Furthermore, the texts claim to be better able to show virtues and criti-
cize vices than material media of memory, for example statues. They consider
material remains and the material production of memory to be less valuable
than textual remains and virtues.41 For example, Tacitus, in his panegyrical

36 See Elsner 1994, 123; Garthwaite 2009, 423–424.

37 Cf. Rouveret 1991, 3953 on “le nombre relativement restreint des passages que l’historien
consacre à des monuments, qu’ il s’ agisse d’ architecture ou de sculptures”.
38 The colossus of Nero was declared a statue of Sol by Vespasian, and Domitian’s palace was
called aedes publicae by Nerva, and so made a public building, cf. Darwall-Smith 1996, 214;
Zanker 2004, 99; Cordes 2017, 101.
39 Charles 2002, 34 on the architectural achievement of Roman emperors. Even Lactan-
tius (De mort. pers. 3.3: multa mirabilia opera, … Capitolium aliaque nobilia monimenta)
acknowledges the building endeavours of the ‘persecutor’ Domitian, see Charles 2002, 34.
40 On the relationship of historiography and cultural memory see p.46–48.
41 This ties in with Tacitus’ association of Germanicus with monuments, as analysed by
Woodman 2015. The altogether positive figure of Germanicus does not identify himself
on monuments erected by or for him (Woodman 2015, 268): “Yet, whereas the confident
conformity of the monuments erected by, or in honour of, Germanicus is underlined by
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 67

biography of Agricola, claims that statues and imagines of people are weak
and mortal, whereas the beauty of the soul ( forma mentis) is eternal; it can
be preserved and expressed only by one’s own character (moribus), not by the
material and artistry of another (per alienam materiam et artem) (Agr. 46.3).42
This is illustrated in the Annals for example by the textual version of German-
icus’ funeral, which contrasts with the historical performance. The latter, so
Tacitus, had neither family portraits (material images of remembrance) nor a
procession, but—as only the text points out and remembers—it was marked
by remembrance of his virtues: funus, sine imaginibus et pompa, per laudes ac
memoriam virtutum eius celebre fuit (Ann. 2.73.1).

2.2 Nero’s Buildings as Acts of Destruction and as Crossing Boundaries

The surviving Tacitean texts do not suffice to analyse how the historiographer
deconstructed Domitian’s building endeavours. But as regards Nero, there is
one important case in which buildings are deconstructed in other ways than
by not mentioning them, namely the buildings erected after the Great Fire
of Rome in 64CE. Their presentation in the text differs enormously from the
description of Tiberius’ buildings after the fire of 36 CE (Ann. 6.45), to which
it can be compared.43 Tiberius turns the damage to his glory (quod dam-
num Caesar ad gloriam vertit): he covers the costs of the houses and apart-
ment buildings affected, is parsimonious with his own buildings (modicus
privatis aedificationibus), and builds or rebuilds only the temple of Augus-
tus and the scaena of the theatre of Pompey on behalf of the state (Ann.
6.45.1).
By contrast, Tacitus’ text presents Nero’s buildings after the fire not as acts
of construction, but rather as the reason for destruction. Although it is never
explicitly said that Nero was certainly responsible for the fire, his buildings
support this rumour, since Nero is described as taking advantage of the cata-
strophe: ceterum Nero usus est patriae ruinis exstruxitque domum (Ann.
15.42.1).44 Since the reader has just learned that Nero seemed to be planning to
found a new city that would carry his name (Ann. 15.40.2), the fire just seems too
much of a coincidence: the text insinuates that the buildings were the reason

the official-sounding language with which Tacitus describes them, the builder and honor-
and himself emerges from the text as a less certain figure, refusing to identify himself on
his own structures and modelling himself on a succession of alternative characters to suit
the needs of the moment.”
42 Cf. a similar statement of Maecenas towards Augustus in Cass. Dio 52.35.3–5.
43 For other positive reactions to fire and the rebuilding endeavours of Tiberius see Ann. 2.49;
3.72; 4.64.
44 Cf. my interpretation of this cui bono argument and the whole passage on p.146–147.
68 chapter 3

for the fire, which is also presented as a result of Nero’s crossing of boundar-
ies (Ann. 15.38–45).45 His buildings continue this practice: they cross financial,
historical, natural, and political boundaries. The immense costs require fund-
ing that is achieved only by despoiling Italy, the provinces, the allies, free cities,
and even the gods (Ann. 15.45.1–2). But, even so, this is not an adequate replace-
ment for the buildings that were destroyed: Tacitus draws attention to their
age and singularity, which the older contemporary generation still remembers
but which could not be rebuilt (quae reparari nequibant, Ann. 15.41.1). In addi-
tion, there is criticism of the quality of the new buildings (Ann. 15.43.5). All
this makes his Nero appear not an innovative builder but a destroyer of history.
What is more, his buildings are not only against history, they are also against
nature: Nero’s architects have to use their audacity and skill against nature or to
rival nature (quibus ingenium et audacia erat etiam, quae natura denegavisset,
per artem temptare et viribus principis inludere, Ann. 15.42.1), and Nero himself
is characterized as always longing for the incredible (Nero tamen, ut erat incred-
ibilium cupitor, Ann. 15.42.2). His plan of a canal from Lake Avernus to Ostia is
given as an example to prove this attitude and—with undue criticism46 regard-
ing the project—analysed as a failure.47 Such depictions of building activities
against nature contrast with panegyrical descriptions of imperial buildings as
beneficially controlling and taming nature.48
Finally, Nero’s building plans are presented as the opposite of his own pro-
gramme announced at the beginning of his reign. When the domus aurea blurs
the boundaries of private and official, this clearly contradicts Nero’s earlier
promise to keep his house and the state apart: discretam domum et rem pub-
licam (Ann. 13.4.2). As mentioned above, there is no panegyrical record of the
domus aurea and it is still disputed whether it was open or partly open to the
public; but it was certainly planned as an extremely luxurious building.49 Crit-
ical literature such as the Octavia can draw on that openness, define it as private
(limen armatae ducis / servent cohortes, Oct. 625–626), and interpret it as a sign
of Nero’s private luxury.50 Martial stresses its size (unaque iam tota stabat in
urbe domus, Spect. 2.4) and associates it with the egoism of the tyrant (invidiosa

45 Cf. O’Gorman 2000, 171. See also p.125–126.

46 Cf. Koestermann 1968, 247–248 on the creative plan that underestimated the technical
problems. On the lack of a good reason for Nero’s plans in Tacitus see p.114.
47 The failure of Nero’s project is taken up by Statius, who uses it as a contrast to Domitian’s
successful via Domitiana, which he praises (Stat. Silv. 4.3.4–8).
48 For this panegyrical motif see Gauly 2006, 459–461; 469 on Stat. Silv. 2.2.32–33; 52–58 and
on the control of nature as the leitmotif of Roman architecture.
49 Cf. Witschel 2006, 102 with further references to the scholarly debate.
50 Cf. Cordes 2017, 34.
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 69

feri … atria regis, Spect. 2.3). Criticism like this is part of a discourse on the dis-
tinction of public and private luxury, in which the criticism is mainly criticism
of private luxury.51 By defining the domus aurea as private, it becomes legitim-
ate to apply this kind of criticism. The same strategy is used by post-Domitianic
literature: Martial claims that Domitian’s private luxury (superbi / regis deli-
cias gravesque luxus, Mart. 12.15.5–6) has become public after his death. Pliny
deconstructs the positive image of Domitian’s palace (Pan. 49–51) as presented
in Stat. Silv. 4.2 (where luxury is positive, since connected to euergetism)52 as
occultus luxus, and praises Trajan, who is very modest in private buildings (idem
tam parcus in aedificando quam diligens in tuendo, Pan. 51.1) but magnificus in
public buildings (Pan. 51.3).53

3 Public Entertainment: From Popular to Eccentric Performances

3.1 Spectacles, Games, and Feasts: The Banquet of Tigellinus

While buildings are the most material forms of representation, (public) events
organized by the emperor are transient in character. As noted above, people
had only one chance to witness a performance in the theatre or the circus. Texts
are always only reflections of ancient performances. The texts describe the per-
formances in various ways. Both the historical Nero and the historical Domitian
organized spectacles, games, and feasts, and introduced new forms of festival.54
The panegyrical discourse presents these forms of public entertainment in a
way that illustrates the emperors’ virtues of liberalitas and civilitas and his
popularity, as we have already seen in the case study on feasts in chapter 1:
the emperors give generous presents and impressive shows; they make use of
the social interaction and dialogue with all levels of society that is possible in
the relaxed atmosphere of such events. Within and by means of public forms
of entertainment, the panegyrical emperors address everyone appropriately
and confirm social status. Their own position in this society may be presen-
ted as equal to the others or as sublimely—positively—distant. The critical

51 For the tradition of moral critique of luxury see e.g. Cic. Mur. 76: odit populus Romanus
privatam luxuriam, publicam magnificentiam diligit. Luxury in public can be seen as
something positive (cf. Gauly 2006, 461); but the boundaries between public and private
are not fixed (cf. Cordes 2017, 22).
52 Cf. Cordes 2017, 36–41.
53 Cf. Cordes 2017, 41–50 on Mart. 12.15 and Plin. Pan. 49–51.
54 For public entertainment provided by Nero and Domitian from a historical and panegyr-
ical perspective see Hardie 2003; Leberl 2004, 181–215; 266–280; Heinemann 2014 (on
founding Greek agones).
70 chapter 3

discourse presents a different image of imperial spectacles, games, and feasts,

in particular those of eccentric emperors.55 As we have seen in the example
of imperial feasts in chapter 1, the historiographical discourse picks up several
elements characterized as positive in panegyrical accounts, especially civilitas
and liberalitas, and deconstructs them. Again, the surviving texts of Tacitus do
not include information on Domitianic spectacles, but the Histories must have
dealt with this topic (cf. Ann. 11.11.1–2).
In Tacitus, the emperor’s civilitas is often depicted as confined to his atten-
tion to and appreciation by the people. Nero’s entertaining the masses is closely
connected to the idea of euergetism, which expected the princeps to provide
benefits for his people. The historical Nero presented himself as a supporter
of the populus,56 and he was indeed popular with the people.57 His organiza-
tion of entertainment and his representation as artist are strongly connected
to his close relationship with the people. The critical discourse reacts to this
kind of imperial representation, which was aimed specifically at the people, in
a similarly specific way. It does not deny this good relationship. The strategy
used to deconstruct Nero’s popularity is rather to show that this good relation-
ship between emperor and plebs was a relationship among equally bad people.
Descriptions of the people are mostly negative: the public is described as ever
ready to believe the worst (ut est vulgus ad deteriora promptum, Ann. 15.64.2)
and as judging emperors by their outward appearance.58 The feature that the
Tacitean Roman people share most prominently with their emperor is their
desire for entertainment. This shared interest makes them sad about Nero’s
death (plebs sordida et circo ac theatris sueta … maesti et rumorum avidi, Hist.
1.4.3). The plebs is characterized by its eagerness for entertainment (voluptatum
cupido, Ann. 15.36.4), and is happy about a princeps who feels the same (ut est
vulgus cupiens voluptatum et, si eodem princeps trahat, laetum, Ann. 14.14.2). But

55 But not all references to imperial performances are coded negatively: Claudius’ canal and
naumachia, for example, are positive in Ann. 12.56–57. When Tacitus mentions Domitian’s
Saecular Games in order to refer to his own involvement in them (Ann. 11.11), this is also
without criticism of the games.
56 E.g. Nero’s coins minted after 59 CE indicate his merits in relation to the populus, see
Witschel 2006, 112.
57 See Witschel 2006, 101–102 on Nero’s popularity and on later intentions to discredit the
people for that reason.
58 People are said to judge emperors by their looks e.g. in Hist. 1.7.4: ipsa aetas Galbae inrisui
ac fastidio erat adsuetis iuventae Neronis et imperatores forma ac decore corporis, ut est mos
vulgi, comparantibus (“Even Galba’s age seemed comic and despicable to a populace that
was used to the young Nero and compared emperors, as is the mob’s custom, in point of
looks and beauty”).
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 71

this happiness is not innocent or blameless. It is accompanied by public out-

rage (crederes laetari, ac fortasse laetabantur per incuriam publici flagitii, Ann.
16.4.4).
To characterize the people in this way, historiographical discourse can also
draw on a panegyrical text which is again taken up and interpreted in a new
way: the De clementia also depicts the people negatively and points out that
they therefore need a ruler and someone who guides them (Sen. Clem. 1.1.1).59
Panegyrical discourse uses this characterization of the people to legitimize
monarchy and to attribute an important role to the princeps, who has to con-
trol and guide the people. The same impression of the character of the people
is created in historiographical discourse, but here it discredits both the people
and the princeps. People need to be controlled, as the De clementia implies, but
the princeps, who equals them in their licentiousness, is not able to take up this
role.
The emperor’s generosity (liberalitas) regarding spectacles and feasts can be
re-coded as lavishness (luxuria).60 Depicted as both profligate and aimed at the
people, the eccentric performances depicted in the historiographical discourse
do not mirror and confirm social status; they rather nullify it or turn it upside
down.61 In general, the very institution of games and spectacles can be discred-
ited as morally low.62 We can observe these mechanisms of recoding in Tacitus’
version of the banquet organized for Nero by Tigellinus (Ann. 15.37.1–4), which
has already been touched upon in chapter 1 and which will later provide
examples of the narrative performance of gender and of ethnicity, the con-
struction of an effective narrative time-sequence, and the importance of expli-
cit exemplarity.63 Tacitus’ text has been used for reconstructions of its historical
context, especially the Roman festival of the Floralia, and of Nero’s purposes.64 I
instead regard reminiscences of the Floralia as a strategy of the text to point out

59 See Manuwald 2002, 114; Cordes 2017, 213–214.

60 Cf. p.21–22.
61 Cf. p.25–26.
62 See e.g. Dial. 29.3 for the histrionalis favor et gladiatorum equorumque studia as vices of
the city.
63 Cf. 105–106; 125–126; 153. For Tigellinus’ character and his role in influencing Nero see also
his depiction in Hist. 1.72: being one of the worst people and full of moral flaws, cruelty,
and greed himself, he misled Nero into every bad deed.
64 Allen 1962 for example points out the similarity of the description of this banquet with
traditional Roman festivals that were characterized by licentious behaviour, especially the
Floralia. See Allen 1962, 100: “Thus it may be that Tacitus is really reporting the emperor’s
personal interpretation of some public festival, possibly the Floralia, which were normally
celebrated each year from April 28 through May 3.”
72 chapter 3

the licentiousness of this banquet on a literary level. The banquet is introduced

as one example of the banquets that Nero provided in public places and as
an instance in which he treated the city as his own house (totaque urbe quasi
domo uti, Ann. 15.37.1).65 This expression flags up the first of Nero’s boundary-
crossings to the attentive reader, as we have already seen.66 With his public
banquets, the Tacitean Nero crosses a boundary he had set up himself.
The banquet of Tigellinus is introduced as one example of several events
of this kind. Tacitus implies that there are other comparable instances of
extremely lavish and famous banquets, which he does not want to deal with. A
certain tension arises between this alleged normality of the banquet and its fol-
lowing description, which aims to bring out its extraordinary character, under-
lined already by the very rare word prodigentia (Ann. 15.37.1) referring to this
lavishness—attested only in the Annals (cf. Ann. 6.14; 13.1.3). For Tacitus’ Nero,
the extraordinary has become normal. We then learn that the banquet takes
place on Agrippa’s lake. The description of the raft and vessels recalls another
sophisticated ship construction ( fabricatus est ratem, Ann. 15.37.2), namely the
ship that was to kill Agrippina (Ann. 14.3.3; 14.5.1–2). Matricide thus enters the
reading process of this passage. The details provided about the things, people,
and animals involved then illustrate the crossing of boundaries of material,
character, and space: the vessels are made of gold and ivory (naves auro et ebore
distinctae); the oarsmen are boy-favourites, who are grouped according to their
age and their sexual expertise (remigesque exoleti per aetates et scientiam libidi-
num componebantur); birds, wild animals, and sea animals were brought there
from distant lands and all the way from the ocean (volucres et feras diversis et
terris at animalia maris Oceano abusque petiverat) (Ann. 15.37.2). Additionally,
the banquet breaches social norms when it provides brothels on one side of
the lake’s banks filled with honourable women (lupanaria … inlustribus feminis
completa), on the other side naked prostitutes (Ann. 15.37.3). When the text
focuses on Nero again (ipse, Ann. 15.37.4), it shows him crossing every moral
boundary.67

3.2 Staging Reality: Nero, Tacitus, and Theatre

The historical Nero must have gained much favour and popularity especially
through his performances on stage, as singer and actor, and also as charioteer

65 The description of Tigellinus’ banquet is integrated into Nero’s crossing of boundaries here
and is an integral part of the degradation. It is therefore not, pace Woodman 1998, 171–172,
“digressive”.
66 See p.68–69.
67 For the series of transgressions depicted in the following see p.125–126.
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 73

and poet, both with the Roman plebs and the provincials in the Greek East.68
As emperor he not only provided entertainment for his people, but was also an
integral part of the entertainment himself. Nero was strongly identified with
his role as artist.69 While the contemporary media that were largely controlled
by the emperor himself hinted at them indirectly,70 some panegyrical texts
(Apocolocyntosis, Lucan’s Laudes, Carmen Einsidlense 1) focus on Nero’s artistic
endeavours: they make this very personal and individual element crucial to the
representation of the princeps and more important than the traditional role.71
The critical discourse reacts to this claim that the role of artist is suitable for
the princeps and to the intertwining of theatre and stage with reality that this
claim entails: Tacitus makes use of this entanglement of the artistic and the
real in his work, and shows that the role of artist is an inappropriate and unsuc-
cessful role for an emperor.72 For Domitian the surviving Tacitean texts do not
tell us anything about his behaviour in the theatre, but, as mentioned above,
his triumph over the Germans is unmasked as a bogus triumph in the Agric-
ola and so as a form of staging reality too ( falsum e Germania triumphum, Agr.
39.1).
The historiographical criticism of the emperor as actor and singer73 builds
on the negative picture of the social status of actors: actors do not tell the truth;
they pretend to be something they are not; their body has no dignity.74 Acting is

68 See Witschel 2006, 101. Nero’s forms of representation as artist were directed towards the
Roman people and the Greek cities, not towards the Roman aristocracy, see Rilinger 1996,
132–133. For the historical Nero as artist see e.g. Manning 1975; Schmidt 1990; Rilinger 1996;
Malitz 2004; Meier 2008 (arguing that the historical Nero really thought of himself as a
serious artist); Gotter 2011.
69 This is nicely taken up in the discourse on the false Neros. One of them is said to have been
so persuasive in his personification of Nero also because he played the lyre and knew how
to sing: libertinus ex Italia, citharae et cantus peritus, unde illi super similitudinem oris pro-
pior ad fallendum fides (Hist. 2.8.1).
70 See Witschel 2006, 114.
71 For this branch of panegyrical discourse see Schubert 1998, 413–415.
72 The locus classicus for thinking of the princeps as a role to play is Suet. Aug. 99, report-
ing Augustus’ alleged last words. See Chaniotis 1997, 219–221 for life-as-stage metaphors in
Hellenistic thought.
73 Previous studies on Nero as artist which deal with the relationship of the depiction and the
depicted have already pointed out that Tacitus makes use of specific language and imagery
to recall tragedy and to achieve a dramatic effect, see Woodman 1993; Santoro L’Hoir 2006.
I will not discuss Nero’s roles as poet and charioteer in detail. For the Tacitean Nero as poet
see Ann. 14.16.1 (Tacitus denies that Nero’s poems possessed any good quality); see Ann.
13.3.3; 14.14.1; 15.44.5 on Nero as charioteer.
74 See Edwards 1994, 84, comparing the bodies of actors to those of gladiators and prosti-
tutes: “They were paraded on stage for financial gain. They served the pleasures of others.”
74 chapter 3

also conceived as the opposite of military actions or combat.75 Being an actor

is thus in stark contrast to the image of the ideal princeps, especially from a
senatorial perspective.76 When the Tacitean Nero takes his role as singer and
actor so seriously (Ann. 14.15.4; 16.4), he breaches an important imperial social
norm and argues implicitly that he is allowed this transgression.77 However, his
performances are not ‘real’: Nero virtually turns the show itself into a stage act
when he has paid Augustiani in the audience make sure that he gets the right
kind of applause (Ann. 14.15.5). And not even then is he successful as an artist.
The silliness of Nero’s behaviour is underlined by the description of the negat-
ive reaction Nero receives. Especially those from further away who are not used
to the degeneracy in Rome cannot bear to watch Nero’s performances. This con-
trasts sharply with the excitement expressed by Corydon, a foreigner to the city
(rustice, Ecl. 7.40), about Nero’s theatre in the panegyrical seventh eclogue of
Calpurnius Siculus.78 Tacitus’ Nero, by contrast, not only forces people to stay,
but also spies on their expressions of enthusiasm (Ann. 16.5.2).
What is more, Tacitus’ Nero extends the inappropriateness of his stage per-
formances to others: he not only performs himself, but also forces respectable
people to appear on stage. Nero is shown as making use of people’s poverty to
force them on stage (Ann. 14.14.3). This form of representation is thus depic-
ted as responsible for disgracing the aristocracy and nullifying social values.79
The interest of the aristocracy in performing appears in Tacitus’ text as merely
staged by Nero. What the text tends to obscure is that acting was indeed a
leisure activity and fashion among contemporary aristocrats.80 Private per-
formances, at least, were not considered disgraceful.81 It would have done

On the low estimation of actors, dancers, gladiators, and charioteers (they are from the
Greek East, slaves or former slaves, immoral, unnatural, and get paid) cf. Champlin 2003,
64.
75 See Edwards 1994, 86.
76 Cf. also Juvenal’s criticism of Nero: he interprets Nero’s performance activities as demean-
ing or prostituting himself: haec opera atque hae sunt generosi principis artes, / gaudentis
foedo peregrina ad pulpita cantu / prostitui Graiaeque apium meruisse coronae (“These
were the achievements and these the skills of our noble emperor, who took pleasure in
prostituting himself on foreign stages with his horrid singing, and in winning Greek pars-
ley crowns”, Juv. 8.224–226).
77 See Edwards 1994, 87.
78 See p.108.
79 See also p.127–129.
80 Cf. Edwards 1994, 86 on Nero’s own stage appearances as “in a sense, the culmination of a
fashion rather than a peculiar aberration”. See Ann. 15.65 on Piso as tragoedus; Ann. 16.21.1
on Thrasea Paetus singing habitu tragico.
81 See Edwards 1994, 88.
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 75

more justice to Nero had Tacitus described his performances as exaggerated

and inappropriate, but as a form of a common practice of the time. This
is what Juvenal claims in his critique of Nero. His eighth satire includes an
attack on aristocrats who perform on stage or in gladiatorial combat, which
is considered humiliating (Juv. 8.183–210). But Nero, who is only the worst
example of the disgrace (Juv. 8.211–230), does not force them to do so (nullo
cogente Nerone, Juv. 8.193). However, regarding the Iuvenalia Tacitus states
openly that all kinds of people took part, evidently without being forced (Ann.
14.15.1).
These forms of deconstruction, which depict Tacitus’ Nero as an inappro-
priate and unsuccessful performer, are supported by Tacitus’ dramatic style,
a literary technique that Tacitus applies throughout, but which makes a spe-
cial point in the Neronian books of the Annals. Tacitus incorporates features
of drama and tragedy in various ways. The structure and style attribute a very
dramatic element to Tacitus’ prose and augment its emotional effect.82 People
in the narrative sometimes behave like actors, and this in two different ways.
Generally, most people make use of the technique of simulatio,83 which means
that they do not say and show what they really think or feel, but something
else—which is typical of an actor. More specifically, people behave like they
have taken up a role and are part of a theatrical play.84 Or they reproach
each other for acting, as does Agrippina, who calls Domitia’s intrigue a theatre
play (quasi scaenae fabulae, Ann. 13.21.3). When Nero burns Christians this is
termed a spectaculum by the narrator and set on the same level as the cir-

82 For literary techniques in Tacitus resembling techniques in tragedy see Billerbeck 1991. For
dramatic elements in the Nero books see Walker 1952, 43–44 (for dramatic elements as a
narrative technique in Tacitus in general see Walker 1952, 35–49). For the story of Thrasea
Paetus evolving in five acts see Heldmann 1991, 213–218.
83 On simulatio as a characteristic feature of communication depicted in the Annals see
Schulz 2015, 169–173.
84 Woodman 1993 has analysed the dramatic structure of Tacitus’ account of the Pisonian
conspiracy and argues that the dramatic elements illuminate why the conspiracy would
fail. He regards this account as a narrative unit and shows how the real and the dramatic
are blended (Woodman 1993, 108). This concerns not only metaphors from acting, but also
the role-playing of the people involved as described in the text. The conspirators propose
to restage the murder of Caesar, only with Nero as victim (cf. Woodman 1993, 109). They
take real life for drama (cf. Woodman 1993, 112). The conspirator Scaevinus, who gives the
conspiracy away, is more concerned with playing a role than with reality (cf. Woodman
1993, 110–111). Faenius Rufus resembles a miles gloriosus (cf. Woodman 1993, 114). That there
are no authorial directions by Tacitus about what he describes as being dramatic encour-
ages “the reader’s belief that the dramatic perception is the conspirators’ own rather than
the author’s” (Woodman 1993, 120).
76 chapter 3

cense ludicrum that he stages too (Ann. 15.44). The language used by the nar-
rator here supports uneasiness about the boundaries of dramatic life and real
life.
The boundaries between the real world and the world of acting are, finally,
blurred in Tacitus’ version of the Saturnalia (Ann. 13.15), in which a play stages
reality. The distinctive element of this festival is the role-reversal of masters and
slaves. In Tacitus, Nero and his friends play a game in which Nero draws the lot
for the role of king.85 He thus, still in the game, orders Britannicus to sing a song.
Britannicus, far from embarrassing himself, as Nero had hoped, alludes to his
own situation, his removal from his father’s home and from supreme power,
and so gains much sympathy. This is the incentive for Nero to plan his murder.
This complex situation illustrates that one cannot and must not distinguish
between games and reality anymore: the Saturnalia provide no shelter for crit-
ical statements, as they should do.86 The game of allotting roles only assigns
the roles the participants play in reality. In a Hamlet-esque scene87 the game
speaks the truth more clearly than reality. And what is said in the game has
direct consequences for reality. In the description of Nero’s reign, theatre has
become reality and reality has become theatre.

4 Nero’s Speeches: Gaining Rhetorical Power

Another element of representation and form of communication that is per-

formative is oratory. While the emperor mainly addressed the people through
forms of public entertainment, speeches are primarily a medium of commu-
nication with senators or the upper classes and, in the form of an adhortative
address before battle, with the soldiers.88 Scholarly attention has until now
focused on the idea of free speech in Tacitus (libertas) in the Dialogus, on
oratory in the Annals and the Histories, and on the system of communication,
especially as depicted in the Annals.89 But speeches are also part of imperial
representation and a rhetorical quality that is evaluated by the historiograph-
ical discourse. In analysing Nero’s first two speeches in the Annals and the

85 Nero’s very first appearance in Tacitus is also in the context of a game, the Game of Troy,
cf. O’Gorman 2000, 168.
86 For the literary motif of playing on role-reversal during the Saturnalia see Hor. Sat. 2.7.
87 Cf. Shakespeare’s Hamlet III,2.
88 For a successful speech of a military commander see e.g. the effect of Germanicus’
speeches (supplices ad haec et vera exprobrari fatentes, Ann. 1.44.1; orationem ducis secutus
militum ardor, Ann. 2.15.1).
89 See O’Gorman 2000; Schulz 2015.
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 77

speech by which he demonstrates rhetorical mastery at a crucial point in the

narrative, we will see that Nero’s rhetorical skills are related both to Seneca and
to Nero’s other ‘intellectual’ interests, such as performances on stage. These two
relationships have certain implications for speeches as forms of imperial rep-
resentation.
Nero’s rhetorical debut is formed by his laudatio on Claudius and his first
speech in the curia (Ann. 13.3–4). Tacitus’ version of these speeches emphas-
izes three things:
(1) Nero’s ideas as presented in these speeches are in accord with senatorial
politics: his programme draws a clear line between his future reign and matters
that had recently caused ill-will under Claudius (ea maxime declinans, quorum
recens flagrabat invidia), and between his and the senate’s functions (teneret
antiqua munia senatus) (Ann. 13.4.2).
(2) The young Nero is rhetorically dependent on Seneca and is himself inter-
ested in other intellectual activities. Tacitus has the seniores in the senate
compare Nero to his predecessors, who were all good, independent speak-
ers (adnotabant seniores, quibus otiosum est vetera et praesentia contendere,
primum ex iis, qui rerum potiti essent, Neronem alienae facundiae eguisse, Ann.
13.3.2): Nero is the first of the line to need the facundia of someone else. The
Tacitean narrator seems to agree with his figures in the narrative when he fur-
ther explains the seniors’ opinion and characterizes Caesar, Augustus, Tiberius,
Caligula, and Claudius briefly as orators (Ann. 13.3.2). Without a clear syntactic
connection he continues: Nero puerilibus statim annis vividum animum in alia
detorsit (Ann. 13.3.3). Tacitus specifies Nero’s other interests as engraving, paint-
ing, singing, and chariot-driving. This suggests a logical connection, which is
not made explicit: Nero indulged in these activities, in alia detorsit, instead of
pursuing rhetorical studies.
(3) Seneca may present senatorial ideals through Nero’s mouth, but his style
and intentions can be criticized.90 The senators laugh during Nero’s lauda-
tio on Claudius when he talks about his providentia and sapientia, which was
not planned by the ghostwriter Seneca, as the quamquam clearly indicates
(Ann. 13.3.1).91 The effect of Seneca’s speech is not as intended. Also, Seneca’s

90 For criticism of Seneca’s style see also Quint. Inst. 10.1.125–131.

91 The speech is hence different from the Apocolocyntosis, which aimed to provide laughter
about Claudius, even if Tacitus is alluding to it (so Koestermann 1967, 238). Tacitus’ Seneca,
however, was not aiming at laughter. The most probable explanation seems to be that the
Tacitean Nero did not deliver the speech the right way, that he perhaps even laughed him-
self (cf. nemo risui temperare, Ann. 13.3.1). Part of the reason for this wrong delivery may be
that he had not written the speech himself (cf. O’Gorman 2000, 149 for the divergence of
78 chapter 3

speech is described as extremely refined, matching his talent, which not only
charmed but was also adapted to the contemporary ear (ut fuit illi viro ingenium
amoenum et temporis eius auribus accommodatum, Ann. 13.3.1). Seneca’s own
ideal of style seems to determine the character of imperial speeches. Later,
Seneca is accused of putting speeches showing clemency into Nero’s mouth
either to attest to his own noble instructions or to showcase this talent: cle-
mentiam suam obstringens crebris orationibus, quas Seneca testificando, quam
honesta praeciperet, vel iactandi ingenii voce principis vulgabat (Ann. 13.11.2).92
We can conclude that at the beginning of his reign, Tacitus’ Nero is not
rhetorically independent. It is Tacitus’ Seneca who speaks through Nero, who
also uses the speeches egoistically to demonstrate his own talent.93 Nonethe-
less, Nero’s behaviour is at first in accord with these pro-senatorial speeches
(nec defuit fides, multaque arbitrio senatus constituta sunt, Ann. 13.5.1). But the
apparent closeness between Nero and the senate is unmasked as really being
a closeness between Seneca and the senate.94 By this Tacitus is able to decon-
struct the historical Nero’s closeness to the senate, which was propagated in
Neronian representations until 62/64 CE.95
After the death of Agrippina and Burrus, the Annals depict a change not only
in the political, but also in the rhetorical situation. This change becomes appar-
ent in Nero’s speech declining Seneca’s request to retire in 62CE (Ann. 14.53–
54). The princeps Nero answers Seneca’s speech directly (Ann. 14.55–56). In this
battle of words Nero emerges as a self-confident and independent orator.96 He

author and orator: “There is a strong sense that Nero’s funeral oration is so Senecan that
it could not possibly be mistaken for Nero’s own voice.”).
92 As Ker 2012, 319 points out, the clementiam suam, “his clemency”, is ambiguous, “poten-
tially referring to Seneca’s rather than Nero’s clemency or indeed to Seneca’s Clemency”.
This ambiguity further illustrates how far Seneca intrudes into Nero’s speech.
93 Cf. O’Gorman 2000, 149: “Nero does not speak, but is spoken through”. This also involves
criticism of Seneca, who “is laid open to the suspicion of insincerity by the suggestion of
alternative motives for his composing speeches on moderation to be delivered by Nero”
(Ryberg 1942, 401).
94 This closeness is itself later deconstructed when Seneca formulates Nero’s official version
of Agrippina’s death for the senate (Seneca adverso rumore erat, quod oratione tali confes-
sionem scripsisset, Ann. 14.11.3).
95 For the representation of Nero’s politics in accord with the senate in official media before
62/64 CE see Witschel 2006, 111: Nero’s coins up to the year 62CE markedly showed Nero’s
good relationship with the senate and strikingly included the ex S(enatus) C(onsulto) also
on precious metal coins.
96 Ker 2012, 322 compares the confrontation between the figures of Seneca and Nero in the
Octavia (Oct. 435–592), in which Seneca’s advice from De clementia is deconstructed by
Nero too.
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 79

starts by saying that he can reply to Seneca’s well-prepared speech with an

impromptu speech, a skill Seneca has taught him and which he considers his
teacher’s first gift (id primum tui muneris habeo, Ann. 14.55.1).97 We may won-
der how exactly Nero had improved so much. His lack of rhetorical interest
and skill was made plausible by his stronger interest in other arts in his youth
(Ann. 13.3.3). As these interests are described as getting stronger and stronger,
it is hardly plausible that Tacitus’ Nero had become such a good speaker. The
text is not absolutely consistent, but this is not its main concern. It rather aims
at a stark contrast to the opening of book 13. Nero is not the mouthpiece of
his teacher anymore, but has become his competent opponent.98 He smartly
and sophisticatedly refutes Seneca’s arguments one by one. Tacitus’ Nero has
achieved rhetorical prowess, but only to turn it against his teacher. Seneca has
taught Nero to his own disadvantage.99 The impression one gets from reading
about Nero’s rhetorical development is disenchanting. A rhetorically depend-
ent Nero who says what the senate expects is only the mouthpiece of Seneca.
His speeches are not for him a genuine form of representation, as they were for
his predecessors. Yet a rhetorically independent Nero uses his skills to others’
disadvantage.

5 Divinity: From God-Like to Unhuman

5.1 Ontological and Panegyrical Divinity

Both Nero and Domitian included aspects of divinity in their historical repres-
entation of themselves.100 Different media reflected their concepts of associ-

97 Woodman 2010, who analyses Tacitean passages and Senecan intertexts, concludes that
the speech of the Tacitean Seneca does not resemble the real Seneca (cf. Woodman 2010,
297–302). Tacitus’ Seneca only speaks like the real Seneca in the scene and moment of his
death, i.e. at a moment when he is not speaking to Nero and thus allowed to be himself
(cf. Woodman 2010, 295–297; 308).
98 Cf. Syme 1958, 335: Seneca’s “discourse was elegant (and not less the response, for both
speakers had to be diplomatic and evasive: the pupil even surpassed the master)”.
99 This is further illustrated by the several parallels of Nero’s reply to Seneca’s preceding
speech. Cf. Woodman 2010, 305, referring to his intertextual analysis which shows that
Tacitus’ Seneca did not speak like the real Seneca: “Nero is speaking like Seneca; yet
Seneca, as we have seen, is not speaking like himself; nor is he speaking like anyone else—
apart from Nero. I suggest that Tacitus intends us to infer from this that over the years of
their close association Seneca has turned himself into a cipher: he has developed a form
of speech which is alien to himself but which he has placed specially at the disposal of the
princeps. When Nero speaks, he speaks like Seneca’s other self.”
100 Rilinger 1996 argues that Nero’s divine forms of representation were part of Seneca’s idea
80 chapter 3

ation with gods. The most important relationship for Nero was that with Apollo
and Sol. Nero was shown with the sungod’s crown and as Apollo Citharoedus on
coins.101 The inscription that recorded the words of his proclamation of liberty
for Greece picked up this official form of representation and referred to him
as the “new sun”.102 The connection with Apollo is part of Nero’s representa-
tion as artist and as youthful bringer of a new Golden Age.103 Domitian’s focus
was on Jupiter and Minerva.104 His representation as divine was connected to
his image as a successful military leader, and supported his presentation as
a strong, autocratic ruler.105 Modern historians debate whether the historical
princeps was thought to be a god already during his lifetime or only after his
death.106 An intermediate position argues that divine honours for an emperor
during his lifetime should be understood as protreptic honours anticipating
his divinization.107 Only after his death would the senate see whether he was
worthy of them. The divinization of the emperor was one last act of acknow-
ledgment.
Things stand differently in the panegyrical discourse, in which the living
emperor is called and described as a god or as god-like.108 The most common
methods to make an emperor a god or god-like are to call him a god, identify
him with gods, or compare them with each other. Emperors can be called deus
or numen directly.109 Or they can be associated with certain gods. Comparis-

of autocracy, in which the emperor Nero did not have to compete with the aristocracy any
longer, but only with the gods.
101 See Witschel 2006, 113 for the closeness of Nero and Sol in his mint after 59 CE.
102 See Witschel 2006, 114.
103 See Bergmann 1998, 133–230; Witschel 2006, 102.
104 Domitian was the first princeps to be shown together with a god on a coin series and the
first to be depicted with Jupiter’s thunderbolt. See Leberl 2004, 52–53.
105 The relationship of victoriousness, autocracy, and divinity in Domitian’s imperial repres-
entation is discussed by Leberl 2004, 49–51 and Witschel 2006, 115. For the debate on the
phrase dominus et deus see Witschel 2006, 114.
106 The first notion is prominently advanced by Clauss 1999, 17 at the very beginning of his
book: “Der römische Kaiser war Gottheit. Er war dies von Anfang an, seit Caesar und
Augustus, er war es zu Lebzeiten, er war es auch im Westen des römischen Reiches, in
Italien, in Rom.”
107 Cf. Peppel 2003, 70. See also Peppel 2003, 72–77 on divinization as a medium of control of
the senate over the emperor: “Durch die postume Divinisierung wird das Leben des Kais-
ers aus Sicht der politischen Elite zu einem schwebenden Verfahren, in dem der Princeps
zuerst Beweise dafür zu erbringen hat, daß er ein Gott ist” (Peppel 2003, 76).
108 On divinity in the panegyrical discourse on Nero and Domitian see Cordes 2017, 103–173,
who discusses in detail most of the examples mentioned here.
109 Calp. Ecl. 1.46 (dum populos deus ipse reget); Calp. Ecl. 1.84–85 (scilicet ipse deus Romanae
pondera molis / fortibus excipiet sic inconcussa lacertis); Calp. Ecl. 4.7–8 (deus ipse … /
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 81

ons with Jupiter are standard. They are less important for Nero,110 but they
take on an important role for Domitian.111 Creating a divine or sacral aura is
a crucial element in all of Statius’ Silvae, for example.112 Equalling or surpass-
ing Augustus is an important part of panegyrical depictions.113 Other deities
are equalled or surpassed too, among them Saturn,114 Mars,115 Bacchus,116 Her-
cules,117 and Claudius.118 For Nero, the closeness to Apollo and Sol is to the
fore.119 The emperor’s divinity is not confined to himself: people who are close
to him are divine too, or surpass comparable gods and goddesses.120

qui populos urbesque regit pacemque togatam); Calp. Ecl. 4.84–85 (qui nostras praesenti
numine terras / perpetuamque regit iuvenili robore pacem); Calp. Ecl. 4.132 (numine Caes-
areo); Calp. Ecl. 4.141 (sit deus); Calp. Ecl. 4.165 (deus ipse); Calp. Ecl. 7.75 (indulgente deo);
Calp. Ecl. 7.76 (venerandum … numen); Mart. 5.8.1 (edictum domini deique nostri). Domi-
tian is addressed in the form of a hymn in Mart. 2.91; 2.92; 5.1. See also Leberl 2004, 56–57.
110 See Schubert 1998, 424. There are, however, some exceptions. Calpurnius Siculus has
Caesar at least very close to Jupiter: Iuppiter ipse parens, cui tu iam proximus, ecce, / Caesar
abes (Calp. Ecl. 4.93–94). Nero is also described as Jupiter or another god, just with the out-
ward appearance of a human being: Tu quoque mutata seu Iuppiter ipse figura, / Caesar,
ades seu quis superum sub imagine falsa / mortalique lates (es enim deus) (Calp. Ecl. 4.142–
144).
111 A few examples of texts that compare Domitian to Jupiter and make him equal or super-
ior to him may suffice: Mart. 1.6; 4.1; 4.8; 5.6.9; 6.10; 6.83; 7.7.5; 7.56; 8.24; 9.20; 9.91. See also
Mause 1994, 213; Lorenz 2002, 122.
112 See Leberl’s summary of his interpretation of Statius in Leberl 2004, 241–243.
113 For Nero excelling Augustus see Calp. Ecl. 1.54–56 (only Nero has brought peace, not
Augustus); Clem. 1.11.1–3 (Nero’s rise to power was not as bloody as Octavian’s) with Cordes
2017, 257–258. Excelling Augustus is implicit in Calp. Ecl. 1.72–73 (moremque fori vultumque
priorem / reddet et afflictum melior deus auferet aevum). The second Carmen Einsidlense
shows Nero fulfilling all the Augustan and Virgilian promises (see Schubert 1998, 418). For
Nero’s connection with Iulus-Ascanius and Troy in the context of the Aeneas-successor
Augustus see Schubert 1998, 58–59. Domitian is paralleled with Augustus (Mart. 4.11) and
addressed as Augustus (Mart. 4.27.1). Domitian’s consulates are depicted as better than
those of Augustus in Stat. Silv. 4.1: Augustus earned his consulship only late (see Cordes
2017, 232–242).
114 See Calp. Ecl. 1.64: altera Saturni referet Latialia regna.
115 See Mart. 7.2: Domitian’s corslet is better than the shield of Mars.
116 See Mart. 8.26: Domitian excels Bacchus regarding wealth and luxuriousness.
117 See Mart. 9.101: Domitian’s deeds are greater than those of Hercules.
118 See Calp. Ecl. 4.31 (spes magis arridet): there is more hope under Nero than under Claudius.
Nero’s times are depicted as better than Claudius’ in Calp. Ecl. 1.54–73 and in the Apocolo-
cyntosis (see Cordes 2017, 257–258).
119 The divine beauty of Nero-Apollo is presented as a sign of the quality of the reign (cf.
Schubert 1998, 415), see Calp. Ecl. 7.85 (et Martis vultus et Apollinis). The Carmen Ein-
sidlense 1 equals Nero with Apollo. See also Carm. Einsidl. 2.38 (iam regnat Apollo); 2.87
( facundo comitatus Apolline Caesar).
120 For Vespasian see Stat. Silv. 1.1.31; 1.1.97–98 (with Mause 1994, 208–209); for Julia (excelling
82 chapter 3

Scholarship on this aspect of panegyrical literature has put much effort into
distinguishing different grades of divinity within these texts, but the question
whether the emperors are compared to gods, appear as gods, or are identical
with them in the panegyrical texts does not in fact do justice to them.121 The
texts rather give different, sometimes intentionally ambiguous accounts of the
divinity of the emperor. This ambiguity in the panegyrical texts reflects the
same ambiguity concerning the theomorphic image of the emperor in statues,
inscriptions, and coins. It may be analysed as a strategy that makes the praise
safe against readings of the text that would consider this degree of exalting the
emperor to be something negative.122 To understand the social effect of pan-
egyrical literature it is less important to distinguish different forms and grades
of divinity within the texts. One rather has to realize that the praise in panegyr-
ical literature implies that the divine status of the emperor does not depend
on the actual process of divinization of the emperor after his death, a process
that involves the senate. The divine status, so panegyrical literature, does not
depend on any political institution. We can hence conceive of panegyrical lit-
erature as an instrument that takes power away from the senate.123 ‘Panegyrical
divinization’ does not need the senate to present the emperor as divine.
Critical literature written after the emperor’s death is based on a different
situation: the senate had not made the historical Nero and Domitian gods. So
once they were dead, it was clear that they were indeed not divine.124 Differ-
ently from the panegyrical texts, historiography accepts the senate’s power in
the process of divinization, which could not begin before the emperor’s death.
Tacitus explicitly highlights this boundary between god and human when he
names the death of the emperor as a condition for his divine veneration, prom-
inently at the very end of book 15: nam deum honor principi non ante habetur,
quam agere inter homines desierit (Ann. 15.74.3). This statement reacts to and

Juno and Venus) see Mart. 6.13; for Earinus (compared to Ganymede) see Mart. 9.11; 9.16;
9.36; for Domitian’s future child see Mart. 6.3; for the whole Flavian dynasty see Mart. 9.1
and Stat. Silv. 4.2.59. For Domitian and his divine relatives see Stat. Silv. 1.1.74; 4.3.139; Mart.
9.101.21–22.
121 Sauter 1934 distinguishes 18 forms in which Domitian was sacralized. Helpful as these
grades may be to illustrate the variety of Martial’s panegyrics, his poems are too disparate
to divide them into different grades and compare them by these grades, see Cordes 2017,
135–141.
122 Cf. Cordes 2017, 118–120; 126 on this intentional ambivalence of panegyrical texts on divin-
ity.
123 Cf. Cordes 2017, 155.
124 Hence Pliny remarks tongue-in-cheek that Domitian’s divinity did not help him against
the conspiracy (longe tunc illi divinitas sua, Pan. 49.1).
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 83

nullifies panegyrical literature which praises the divinity of a living emperor.

But even though from an ex-post view history had proven that Nero and Domi-
tian were not divine, critical post mortem literature applies further strategies
that deconstruct their panegyrical image. First, by contrast with these descrip-
tions as super-humans, historiographical discourse approximates emperors
to people who are—from a Roman viewpoint—less than human: as will be
shown later,125 bad emperors are depicted in terms of femininity, foreignness,
or slavery. These concepts structurally supplant the associations with divin-
ity presented in panegyrical discourse. Second, historiography deconstructs
more complex panegyrical narratives, in which, for example, the reaction of
the emperor’s surroundings—people, animals, and nature—to his divinity is
depicted, or the emperor’s interactions with gods and goddesses.

5.2 Narratives of Emperors, Gods, and People

5.2.1 Reacting to the Emperor-God: People, Animals, Nature
A more complex technique of illustrating divinity in panegyrical texts is to
describe how the emperor’s surroundings interact with him and react to him.
The way people, animals, and nature understand an emperor in the text can
indicate his god-like status. In historiographical deconstruction, the reactions
depicted discredit the emperor’s divinity accordingly.
In panegyrical literature, the emperor’s divinity is acknowledged first of all
by other people.126 Ladas and Apollo praise Nero’s voice in panegyrical dis-
course (Carm. Einsidl. 1.34; Sen. Apocol. 4.1.23). In Tacitus, by contrast, it is Nero
who thinks about his own voice enthusiastically and who reproaches Thrasea
Paetus that he did not make sacrifices to his heavenly voice (pro salute principis
aut caelesti voce immolavisse, Ann. 16.22.1). The passage illustrates that, in the
critical discourse, the princeps is not seen as a god by others, but, to the con-
trary, actively demands acknowledgement of his divine status and reproaches
people who do not accept it. This is also implied in the speech of Servilia, who
says in her defence that she always included Nero among the gods (nulla mihi
principis mentio nisi inter numina fuit, Ann. 16.31.2). But then those who offer
veneration and divine honours to an emperor, as panegyrical discourse does,127

125 See p.101–108.

126 This is also true of Domitian: be it the speaker of a poem (Stat. Silv. 4.2.10–13) or an enemy
of the emperor such as the Dacian Degis (Mart. 5.3), people sense Domitian’s divinity. The
Tacitean texts that have survived do not allow us to see how Tacitus deconstructed such
views on Domitian.
127 Divine honours in panegyrical discourse are offered, for example, by Statius to Domitian:
certus ames terras et quae tibi templa dicamus / ipse colas (“Faithfully may you love earth
84 chapter 3

are clearly unmasked as flatterers or actors by the Tacitean narrator. The offer
of divine honours for Nero’s child, which died before it was born, are those of
sycophants (Ann. 15.23.3).128 And only the Augustiani, who are paid by Nero,
call his voice and his physical appearance divine ( formam principis vocemque
deum vocabulis appellantes, Ann. 14.15.5).
Animals, too, are characterized by their relationship with the emperor and
are used to evaluate him positively in panegyrical discourse.129 In Calpurnius
Siculus, the sound of Nero’s name makes the animals (and plants) strong and
fertile (Calp. Ecl. 4.102–104; 112–116). In Martial’s Liber spectaculorum the anim-
als feel the emperor’s numen (e.g. Mart. Spect. 17; 30). Geese, which are to be
sacrificed for Domitian, go to the altar voluntarily (ipse suas anser properavit
laetus ad aras, Mart. 9.31.5). Martial’s leo-lepidus epigrams (1.6; 1.14; 1.22; 1.48;
1.51; 1.60; 1.104) vary the motif of a tamed lion, an allusion to Domitian, and a
hare, which can be identified with the poet.130 The king of the animals and the
princeps are both showing clemency by sparing minor beings; the tamed anim-
als in Domitian’s games and his sacred fish (Mart. 4.30) play on the idea that
gods and god-like human beings have the power to tame animals.131 The rela-
tionship of the emperor to animals, as far as we can judge from the texts that
have survived, is not as important for Tacitus’ historiographical deconstruction
as it is for panegyrical literature.132 However, the depiction of Tigellinus’ ban-
quet is interwoven with some animalistic elements, such as lycanthropy, which
denigrate Nero.133
Panegyrical literature also attributes to the emperor positive effects on na-
ture.134 In Calpurnius Siculus, the sound of Nero’s name makes the woods fall

and yourself frequent the temples we dedicate to you”, Stat. Silv. 1.1.105–106). For prayers
to gods for Domitian see Mart. 7.60 (to Jupiter); 8.2 (to Janus).
128 See also Ann. 13.8; 15.23. After her death, Poppaea is praised for being the mother of a
divine child (Ann. 16.6.2).
129 Martial’s praise of Domitian influencing animals is collected by Weinreich 1928, 166–170,
and includes e.g. elephants (Mart. Spect. 20), panthers and tigers (Mart. 1.104), lions and
hares (Mart. 1.6; 1.14; 1.22; 1.48; 1.51; 1.50; 1.104); see Cordes 2017, 186–189.
130 For the leo-lepidus poems cf. Lorenz 2002, 126–134.
131 For the custom of keeping sacred fish see Moreno Soldevila 2006, 258. Cf. Howell 1980, 119.
See also the interpretation of Mart. 4.30.3–5 in Cordes 2017, 98.
132 Juvenal parodies this panegyrical motif of the emperor’s influence on animals when in his
satire a fish itself wants to be caught (Iuv. 4.65–69).
133 See Woodman 1998, 176. Cf. Woodman 1998, 179 referring to Ann. 15.37.3–4: “Hence Nero’s
behaviour, as described by Tacitus, is not only foreign but also serves to keep alive the
suggestions of animalism in lupanaria and grege earlier.”
134 For further examples and detailed interpretations of the passages mentioned here see
Cordes 2017, 176–182.
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 85

silent (Calp. Ecl. 4.97–98) and it warms the earth (Calp. Ecl. 4.109–110). Comets
are interpreted as positive signs for a reign, announcing happiness (Calp. Ecl.
1.77–88). Statius has Janus declare that Domitian’s gentle and clement charac-
ter warms the winter: aspicis ut templis alius nitor, altior aris / ignis et ipsa meae
tepeant tibi sidera brumae / moribus aequa tuis? (“Do you see how a different
gleam is in the temples, how the flame mounts higher on the altars, and how
the very stars of my winter become warm for you, equal to your manners?”,
Silv. 4.1.23–25). Furthermore, the weather supports the emperor when white
snow falls onto the black cloak of a certain Horatius, who had neglected Domi-
tian’s decree that one should wear only white in the theatre (Mart. 4.2). Such
mutual understanding between the emperor and his non-human surroundings
is deconstructed in historiographical discourse. To study, again, the example
of Nero:135 on the night when Nero plans to kill his mother, the gods render
the night bright with stars and quiet with a calm sea as if to expose the crime:
noctem sideribus inlustrem et placido mari quietam quasi convincendum ad sce-
lus dii praebuere (Ann. 14.5.1). After the matricide, the view of this very sea
oppresses Nero (maris illius et litorum gravis aspectus, Ann. 14.10.3).

5.2.2 Interactions of Emperors and Gods

Panegyrical literature also depicts the relationship of the emperor with the
gods. Several narratives show emperors and gods communicating with each
other in different ways: gods talk to the emperor or about him, they take
action on his behalf, are on his side and respect him, they even accept that
he surpasses them. The texts construct a relationship of intimacy, support, and
supremacy, which we may here survey briefly. They will later be deconstructed
in historiographical discourse.
Emperors and gods are shown as close, similar, and comparable to each
other in panegyrical texts. Especially Nero and Phoebus/Apollo are depicted
as intimates, when Seneca has Phoebus describe himself as similar to Nero in
appearance and voice in the Apocolocyntosis (ille mihi similis vultu similisque
decore / nec cantu nec voce minor, Sen. Apocol. 4.1 [22–23]). One aspect of this
close relationship is that gods also support the emperors, with or without them
realizing it. They take up this role in Neronian and Domitianic panegyrics, for
example when Phoebus by his song and his very presence supports the Fates in
spinning Nero’s thread of life (Phoebus adest cantuque iuvat gaudetque futuris /

135 For Domitian see Pliny’s Panegyricus, which depicts Domitian as afraid of nature and its
elements. See Cordes 2017, 195–198 on Plin. Pan. 81–82: the contrast in the Panegyricus is
again with Trajan. He is depicted as master of nature not due to his aura but for rational
reasons—his military virtue and his infrastructural and organizational skills.
86 chapter 3

et laetus nunc plectra movet, nunc pensa ministrat, Sen. Apocol. 4.1. [15–17]). The
sky and, as is hinted, Domitian’s divine dead son provide weather suitable for
Domitian in Martial (Mart. 4.2–3). In Statius, Janus and Jupiter grant Domitian
a long youth and life (Silv. 4.1), and a god is creator of the emperor’s equestrian
statue (Silv. 1.1).136
Gods in panegyrical texts can go further and acknowledge the emperor’s
supremacy. The relation between god and human being is thus reversed in
the Apocolocyntosis when the Fates admire both Nero’s life-thread and him-
self (mirantur pensa sorores, Sen. Apocol. 4.1 [7]) and when Phoebus states
that Nero’s fate is greater than human and that he wants it to stay thus: vincat
mortalis tempora vitae (Sen. Apocol. 4.1 [21]).137 In Calpurnius Siculus, Faunus
praises the future emperor as a god (Ecl. 1.33–88). The gods in Lucan’s proem,
in which Nero is compared to Jupiter and Apollo, are so happy about the new
god Nero and so welcoming that he is allowed to choose which god he wants to
be (Luc. prooem. 45–59). Mythological figures also give panegyrical speeches
in Statius’ Silvae so that the poet does not have to present his praise inappro-
priately and unconvincingly in his own voice.138 Martial turns the relation of
Domitian and the gods around when he describes gods sacrificing for Domitian
(non sunt haec hominum, Germanice, gaudia tantum, / sed faciunt ipsi nunc,
puto, sacra dei, Mart. 8.4.3–4), or being in his debt (Mart. 9.3). Domitian is depic-
ted as superior to Jupiter (e.g. Mart. 4.1; 4.3; 6.83; 9.91). This idea is not confined
to merely textual narratives. The Cancelleria Relief also shows Domitian and a
god in changed roles: it depicts the emperor as master of Minerva.139
Such a close connection between gods and emperors is deconstructed in his-
toriographical discourse. Emperors are rather depicted as close with debauch-
ed villains such as Sejanus and Tigellinus. Tacitus’ Nero is not depicted as
intimate with the gods.140 Nonetheless, the rumour that someone else might
be close to the gods is dangerous to such a person, for example to Rubellius
Plautus (Ann. 14.22.2). Unlike in panegyrical discourse, the communication
between emperor and gods is only one-way. Nero addresses gods, but they do

136 Cf. Leberl 2004, 144.

137 For mythical narratives that point out the emperor’s divinity in panegyrical literature see
Cordes 2017, 106–112.
138 Cf. Coleman 1999, 69 in her interpretation of Stat. Silv. 1.1: the figure of Curtius in the poem
“legitimates a grandiose verbal register for his speech that would sound incongruous if
Statius were to employ it in propria persona”.
139 See Leberl 2004, 49–51.
140 The connection of Nero with Apollo is also not mentioned in the Octavia, cf. Cordes 2017,
130.
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 87

not react.141 He uses Apollo as an argument for his interest in singing (Ann.
14.14.1) and honours Sol, whom he holds responsible for detecting the Piso-
nian conspiracy (qui occulta coniurationis suo numine retexisset, Ann. 15.74.1).
He thanks the gods that a collapse of a theatre happened only after the people
had left (Ann. 15.34.1). Nero makes use of Apollo and Sol for his purposes, writes
songs for gods (Ann. 15.34.1), but they never answer.
Focusing on the other party to the communication, we can see that the gods
in Tacitus are far from showing the respect and support they offer in panegyr-
ical texts. They never express any positive thoughts about the emperor, let alone
professions of his supremacy. The gods are either not interested in taking part in
events on earth, indifferent towards good and bad (sine cura deum, Ann. 14.12.2;
aequitate deum erga bona malaque documenta, Ann. 16.33.1), or they even act
against the emperor and his people. Generally, there is no clear, uniform answer
to the question whether gods, fate, or the law of causality determine human
actions and events.142 But people conceive of the gods as communicating via
signs.143 They are depicted as afraid of the gods’ wrath (Ann. 1.30.3), and use
it to explain negative events on earth (Ann. 13.17.1; 14.22.4). The narrator him-
self states that the gods’ wrath was finally directed against all Romans (Ann.
16.16.2).144 That Nero’s deeds are the reason for such an opposition to mankind,
is hinted at (Ann. 16.13.1).145 That the gods do not support or agree with him,
is pointed out in several instances: the gods complicate the murder of Agrip-
pina (Ann. 14.5.1), as we just saw; Vesta possibly frightens Nero when he visits
her temple (Ann. 15.36.2); and Fortuna turns against him (Ann. 16.1.1). Nero can
be an enemy of the gods too: he mistreats them when he robs their temples

141 Tacitus’ Nero is hence in contrast with Pliny’s Trajan, to whom the gods grant a place
among themselves precisely because he does not aim at it (sic fit, ut di ⟨tibi⟩ summum
inter homines fastigium servent, cum deorum ipse non adpetas, Plin. Pan. 52.2).
142 See the reflections on gods, chance, and causality in Ann. 1.28 and Ann. 6.22.
143 Comets and thunderbolts are read as divine signs in Ann. 14.22.
144 A hostile attitude of the gods against the Romans is also assumed in Hist. 1.3.2: non esse
curae deis securitatem nostram, esse ultionem. Cf. Griffin 2009, 169, discussing divine inter-
vention as a mode of interpreting events in Tacitus: “For the most part, however, he sug-
gests a hostile role for the gods.” For the wrath of the gods see also Ann. 4.1.2 and Hist.
2.38.2 with Griffin 2009, 172: “Divine displeasure is adduced as an additional (and super-
fluous) explanation to darken the picture of human artfulness (A. 4.1.2) or madness (H.
2.38.2).”
145 It is illuminating to compare the different depiction of the destruction of the Capitoline
temple in Hist. 3.72.1, the facinus post conditam urbem luctuosissimum foedissimumque rei
publicae populi Romani (“the most deplorable and horrible disaster that had ever befallen
the people of Rome since the foundation of the city”), which happened furore principum,
but is not described as an attack on the gods. For the fire cf. Sailor 2008, 205–249.
88 chapter 3

(Ann. 15.45.1; cf. Agr. 6.5).146 Nero’s relationship with the gods in Tacitus thus
comes close to the relationship with the gods of the figure Nero in the Octavia.
In this play, Nero supports the image of himself as slanderer of the gods.147
He expels the gods from their temples and has a reign without gods (Oct. 912–
913).

6 Atmosphere: From Golden Age to the Dynamics of Bad Times

6.1 Aurea Aetas

All the topics of imperial representation discussed, taken together, create a cer-
tain ‘atmosphere’ around an emperor and his reign in the text. By this term I
refer to an image of a reign that is characterized by a certain attitude of the
people towards their times, especially their emotional responses, and by the
core virtues and ideas that are presented as the basis of this reign. A motif that
manages to conceptualize such a complex phenomenon as ‘atmosphere’ in tex-
tual, but also in visual terms, is the aurea aetas motif.148 Metaphors of a Golden
Age and descriptions of an era as excellent are crucial to panegyrics in general
and to Neronian and Domitianic panegyrics in particular, which present their
own times as superior to other eras, especially in contrast with the preceding
emperor: with the praised princeps a new era begins which avoids the faults of
the old one and which stops or prevents civil wars.149
Nero’s era is praised as a new Golden Age in Calpurnius Siculus (aurea secura
cum pace renascitur aetas, Ecl. 1.42; aurea … saecula, Ecl. 4.6–7) and Seneca
(Apocol. 4.1 [9]).150 The core virtues acclaimed for Nero and his new age are
pax, iustitia, moderatio, innocentia, felicitas, and clementia (e.g. Calp. Ecl. 1.46–
73). Through these virtues Nero is set into the tradition of Augustan ideology,
his era is conceived as a restoration and emulation of Augustus’ era.151 But

146 Cf. Dio Chrys. Or. 31.148 for Nero robbing the sanctuaries of Olympia and Delphi.
147 Cf. Cordes 2017, 131.
148 The poets Hesiod (Op. 106–126), Virgil (Ecl. 4.37–45), and Ovid (Met. 1.89–112) give descrip-
tions of the Golden Age that include the standard motifs, which have influenced later
accounts.
149 Cf. the summaries in Cordes 2017, 253–255; 304–306.
150 Calpurnius’Ecloga 1 prophesies a Golden Age, which is fulfilled by Calpurnius’Ecloga 4, cf.
Schubert 1998, 81. See also Carm. Einsidl. 2.22. For the importance of gold for Neronian pro-
paganda see also Ash 2015, 270–271. However, Seneca’s Naturales Quaestiones show traces
of a contemporary interpretation of Neronian times as animating fear, see Gauly 2004,
218–224.
151 According to Schubert 1998, 413–418 this is one of two branches of Neronian panegyrics:
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 89

Nero is presented as even better than the first emperor, and as the one who—
allegedly—has truly ended the civil war (Calp. Ecl. 1.46–68).152 He surpasses
the positive example of Augustus because he does not have to fight for power,
but is loved (Sen. Clem. 1.4.3), just as he contrasts with the negative example of
Claudius in the Apocolocyntosis.153 Lucan praises Nero’s times as recompense
for the horror of the civil wars: multum Roma tamen debet civilibus armis, / quod
tibi res acta est (prooem. 44–45). This Golden Age free of war is perceived as
such by the people living in it. The whole world is safe, happy, or invited to be
happy (Calp. Ecl. 1.36–37; 74–76), and earth, people, gods, and nature love and
revere the emperor (Calp. Ecl. 4.107–121). Something that is new in Neronian
panegyrics is the praise of luxury. While the Golden Age had been associated
mostly with simplicity in earlier panegyrical literature, material gold plays an
important role in Neronian literature: in Seneca’s Apocolocyntosis, for example
the symbolic meaning of gold is ‘materialized’ when Nero’s life-thread turns
into real gold.154
Similarly, but with different emphases, Domitian’s era is welcomed as a new
age by the contemporary poets.155 That the aurea aetas motif itself is not as
important in Domitianic panegyric may be explained by earlier panegyrical
accounts: it could not be used extensively precisely because Neronian pan-
egyric had drawn on it so much.156 What we find instead are comparisons
with other epochs, as in Stat. Silv. 1.1, or comparisons of Domitian with his-
torical figures (Alexander the Great, Hector, Aeneas, Caesar, Curtius).157 Domi-
tian’s era is especially praised for the imperial virtues of civilitas and liberalitas
(Stat. Silv. 1.6).158 Moral and legal actions of Domitian, such as his censorships,

Schubert distinguishes between neo-Augustan motifs on the one hand (in the Apocolocyn-
tosis, De clementia, Calpurnius Siculus, the second Carmen Einsidlense, and Lucan), and
specifically Neronian motifs such as Nero’s artistic achievements on the other (also in the
Apocolocyntosis, Lucan’s Laudes, and the first Carmen Einsidlense), which become more
influential after 59 CE. An example of Augustan restoration in Neronian times is Carm.
Einsiedl. 2.24: totaque in antiquos redierunt saecula mores.
152 Cf. Cordes 2017, 258–263.
153 For these two kinds of comparison (augmentation and contrast) in general see Arist. Rhet.
1368a21–24; Quint. Inst. 8.4.9 (distinguishing amplificatio and comparatio), and in panegyr-
ical literature see Cordes 2017, 81–82.
154 Cf. Cordes 2017, 26–28.
155 See Nauta 2002, 397–402, also about the Golden Age.
156 Cf. Nauta 2010, 255–258. Exceptions are Stat. Silv. 1.6.39–42; Mart. 6.3.
157 This includes the strategy of presenting possible counter-arguments (the contemporary
times are not the best times ever) and refuting them, as in Mart. 9.70. See Cordes 2017,
282–285; 293–294.
158 See Newlands 2002, 227–259; Leberl 2004, 181–198; Rühl 2006, 329–335.
90 chapter 3

theatre edicts, and marriage laws, account for justice and the return of pudor
(Mart. 9.5).159 The world looks approvingly to Rome and the emperor.160 That
his people, and even barbarians (terretur vultu barbarus et fruitur, Mart. 7.5.6),
love him, is expressed by their wishing for and enjoying his presence (Mart. 7.2;
7.6; 7.7; 7.8; 8.8; 8.11; 8.15; 8.21; 9.79).161 Even in the atmosphere of luxury in the
theatre, speaker and visitors have eyes only for Domitian (Stat. Silv. 4.2.14–17;
1.6.65–84). In official media162 and in panegyrical texts, Domitian is approxim-
ated to and rendered similar to Augustus. But it is noted that no other time can
be compared to Domitian’s age.163
The atmosphere surrounding these emperors in the critical discourse is
quite the opposite.164 In Tacitus, the joy and reverence, typical of Golden Age
depictions, felt by everyone near the emperor, are generally supplanted by fear,
in the depiction both of Nero and of Domitian. Cruelty has abolished pity
(Ann. 6.19.3). Night and darkness provide a dangerous atmosphere in individual
scenes.165
The idea of the Golden Age is expressed very literally in its deconstruction
in an episode about Nero and Caesellius Bassus (Ann. 16.1–3), strikingly open-
ing book 16, in which Nero’s vanitas grows strongly.166 Fortune is described as
making a fool of Nero because of this vanity and the promises of the mentally
unbalanced Caesellius Bassus: inlusit dehinc Neroni fortuna per vanitatem ipsius

159 This is pointed out with regard to his edicts concerning the theatre (Mart. 4.2; 5.8; 5.14; 5.23;
5.25; 5.27; 5.38; 5.41; 6.4; 6.7) and in relation to his marriage laws (Mart. 6.2; 6.4; 6.6; 6.22;
6.31; 6.39; 6.45; 6.67; 6.90; 6.91). See Lorenz 2002, 152–162. Moral legislation has to be seen
in close connection with Domitian being the first censor perpetuus from 85 CE onwards
(cf. Leberl 2004, 61).
160 See Rühl 2006, 358 for the image of Domitian in the Silvae.
161 Domitian’s imperial presence is also a strong feature on the coins; see Leberl 2004, 72.
162 For Domitian’s Augustan outlook on his coins see Leberl 2004, 45. For his portrait in the
Museo del Palazzo dei Conservatori resembling the Julio-Claudians see Leberl 2004, 70.
By treating Augustus as ideal princeps and the Julio-Claudians as the dynasty of the prin-
cipate par excellence, it became possible to invoke him as a legitimation for Domitian’s
own principate, see Leberl 2004, 71.
163 Martial praises his reign, to which no other time can be compared, regarding triumphs, the
gods, the city itself, and libertas (Mart. 5.19.1–6). There are roses in Roman winter, which
makes Rome superior to Egypt (Mart. 6.80).
164 For the Octavia (416–434) see Cordes 2017, 30–32.
165 See e.g. Ann. 13.20.1; 13.20.3; 13.25.2; 14.4.3. For the importance of the scene for Tacitus’ dra-
matic techniques see Billerbeck 1991.
166 Ash 2015 discusses the style and possible literary interactions of this passage with other
texts (Petronius, Greek Dictys, Latin Dictys). Suerbaum 2015, 452–457 discusses this pas-
sage in comparison with Suetonius’ version of the same episode, and concludes that
Tacitus developed it in more detail in order to paint a negative picture of Nero.
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 91

et promissa Caeselli Bassi, qui origine Poenus, mente turbida (Ann. 16.1.1). Bassus
had a dream that a cavern of enormous depth had been discovered on his land,
which contained a large quantity of gold. In Neronian panegyrical literature
the motif of finding gold is developed by Calpurnius Siculus, who praises it as
an accomplishment of Nero’s times that farmers are allowed to keep the gold
they find on their land while ploughing (Calp. Ecl. 4.117–121).167 In Tacitus, Bas-
sus does not really find the gold. He only dreams about it and reports his dream
to Nero, driven by his hope that it might be true, and adds the hypothesis that
it might be the gold of Dido (Ann. 16.1.2). Nero simply believes Bassus without
checking the facts and sends messengers to bring him the bounty as though it
were really there (non auctoris, non ipsius negotii fide satis spectata nec missis
per quos nosceret an vera adferrentur, Ann. 16.2.1). This incident is the prime
topic taken up by the orators for eulogies on Nero during the Quinquennalia,
which take place at the same time (Ann. 16.2.2). The orators, sure of Nero’s gull-
ibility (securi de facilitate credentis, Ann. 16.2.2), produce servile compositions
that are both extremely eloquent and adulatory.168 Their speeches, as Tacitus
summarizes them, resemble descriptions of the aurea aetas in panegyrical liter-
ature: when they claim that the earth not only produces the ordinary crops and
gold mixed with other metals, but that it now brings forth a new kind of fertility
and that the gods are giving easy riches (non enim solitas tantum fruges nec con-
fusum in metallis aurum gigni, sed nova ubertate provenire terram et obvias opes
deferre deos, Ann. 16.2.2), they take up the role of panegyrical poets.169 Tacitus
states that in the meantime Nero’s luxury had increased and he was spending
all his resources in anticipation of the new riches on Bassus’ land (gliscebat
interim luxuria spe inani, Ann. 16.3.1). When Bassus finally starts looking for the
gold, he behaves like people in depictions of the Iron Age who search for nat-
ural resources (cf., e.g., Ov. Met. 1.137–140). Bassus has to emerge from his folly
and realize that his dream was misleading and wrong (Ann. 16.3.2). There are
two different versions of what happened to him afterwards, to which we will
come back later:170 he either took his own life, or he was imprisoned, released,
and his property taken as compensation for the missing treasure.

167 For the scholarly debate on whether this reflects on a Neronian law see Cordes 2017, 255–
256. Ash 2015, 282 also points to the passage in Calpurnius Siculus.
168 Ash 2015, 280–282 hence attributes joint guilt to the amoral society of Nero’s times, and
reads Tacitus’ account as undercutting “the apparently black-and-white moralism” (Ash
2015, 280).
169 In the Dialogus, Maternus says that the Golden Age has had many poets, but few orators
(Dial. 12.3). From this point of view, Nero’s panegyrical orators in Tacitus are a rare excep-
tion.
170 See p.142.
92 chapter 3

6.2 Dynamics of Bad Times

In Neronian panegyrics the new golden times are presented as the final phase
of the world. Historical development has found its end and climax, a longue
durée of happiness. This impression of Nero’s era is deconstructed by Tacitus:
it appears as a time of fear in the critical discourse, both in the Annals and in
the Agricola. This fear may have several levels: under Tiberius, people are afraid
of their fear, of showing that they feel fear (id ipsum paventes, quod timuis-
sent, Ann. 4.70.2). Often Tacitus is less interested in reconstructing ‘facts’ than
in reconstructing the fear that drives people: whether people really saw sea-
monsters on campaigns in Germany seems less important to Tacitus than the
fear that they felt and that may have made them imagine these monsters (visa
sive ex metu credita, Ann. 2.24.4); even the question whether Archelaus com-
mitted suicide or died a natural death is not important, since in either case
fear of the princeps killed him (Ann. 2.42.3). The times are also depicted as
full of change, instability, and uncertainty in Tacitus, an important feature to
which we will come back later.171 fatum does not grant a stable influence ( fato
potentiae raro sempiternae, Ann. 3.30.4) and even the happiness of the mighty
is not forever (adeo incertae sunt potentium res, Ann. 12.42.3). When Tiberius’
actions provide slight relief, the narrator points out that this is only for the
time being (modicum in praesens172 levamentum, Ann. 3.28.4). Change happens
fast, can be dramatic, and concerns everyone, as the reader learns from Agrip-
pina, who is culprit one moment and victim the next (nihil rerum mortalium
tam instabile ac fluxum est quam fama potentiae non sua vi nixa⟨e⟩, “nothing in
the world is as fickle and fleeting as a reputation gained for power that has no
strength of its own”, Ann. 13.19).173 Not only for her is it true that things always
get worse, even when they are already regarded as extremely bad. Agrippina
is worse than Messalina (Ann. 12.7.3). Caligula is worse than Tiberius (Ann.
6.48.2). Tiberius’ reign before the year 23CE, which is marked as a watershed
moment, was not depicted as an agreeable time. It is only later events, which
are worse, that characterize these earlier years as positive in hindsight (cf. Ann.
4.6–7 on Tiberius before and after Drusus’ death). Remembering, connecting
the present to the past and to the future, as in Tiberius’ case, can have negative
connotations: the memory of something that enraged him lives on in his heart
(sed in animo revolvente iras, etiam si impetus offensionis languerat, memoria
valebat, Ann. 4.21).174 Bad times come back (Ann. 6.18.1) and the Tacitean nar-

171 See chapter 5.

172 Cf. in praesens in Ann. 4.21.1.
173 Cf. Plancina in Ann. 6.26.3 and Messalina in Ann. 11.32.
174 Cf. the relevance of old hatred (non occultante Tiberio vetus odium) in Ann. 4.29.3.
imperial representation and topics of deconstruction 93

rator pronounces a change for the worst (honesta quidem, sed ex quis deter-
rima orerentur, Ann. 11.38.4; mutationem rerum in deterius portendi cognitum
est crebris prodigiis, Ann. 12.64.1), or describes something as merely not bad yet
(abditis adhuc vitiis, Ann. 13.1.3).
This change is often accompanied by the strong momentum of a chain of
events. Such a momentum is evoked, for example, when an event is character-
ized as the first in a series that leads to a certain result, as in Agrippina’s case
(ut series futuri in Agrippinam exitii inciperet, Ann. 4.52.1). A series of murders
is often depicted as an unstoppable development with its own dynamic: Junius
Silanus is introduced as the first victim in Nero’s new principate (prima novo
principatu mors Iunii Silani, Ann. 13.1.1)—and with prima opening the books
on Nero’s reign we expect several murders to follow; depicting the endless
numbers of murders of the Pisonian conspiracy Tacitus gives the reader an
intermediate summary that points out that funerals already fill up the city (sed
compleri interim urbs funeribus, Ann. 15.71.1)—which underlines the dynamic
of this negative development. The impression the reader gets throughout is
that one does not know how to stop or change the course of history.175 Better
knowledge does not lead to better actions (quo magis mirum habebatur gnarum
meliorum, et quae fama clementiam sequeretur, tristiora malle, “it was therefore
found all the more astonishing that someone who knew the better course of
action and the reputation that followed clemency, should prefer the harsher
course”, Ann. 4.31.2), and Tacitus’ narrator states himself that he does not know
what role is played by people’s own actions or by chance (Ann. 4.20.3).

175 This is similar to another text critical of Nero (with a different focus), the Octavia (429–
434): here, the collecta vitia are depicted as growing inexorably in every age and as over-
flowing in the present times.
 chapter 4

Strategies of Deconstruction in Tacitus

1 Overview: How to Deconstruct Imperial Representation

In the previous chapter I have introduced different topics, contexts, and media
of imperial representation, which are mirrored in panegyrical and critical texts.
We have seen how the imperial image, which is constructed with the help
of these topics in historical and panegyrical representation, can be decon-
structed, i.e. re-interpreted in a negative way, in the critical, mainly histori-
ographical discourse by referring to the same topics. This chapter moves from
panegyrical-critical topics on to critical methods applied in deconstructing
imperial representation. It addresses the question of which literary—mainly
rhetorical and narratological—devices the Tacitean texts use to criticize forms
of imperial representation, i.e. the image of the emperor constructed by him-
self, his entourage, or others through topics such as military actions, building
programmes, and divinity.
I would like to distinguish three main literary strategies that present an
emperor’s actions and behaviour as negative.1 These devices will be further
differentiated in the course of the chapter. They are used both explicitly and
implicitly and in various grades. First, something the emperor does or thinks
may be presented with negative connotations. This is achieved by directly unfa-
vourable additions, or by the presentation of moral foils to which the emperor
is contrasted, especially the contrasting foils of moderate behaviour and gender
(p.95–108). Second, an emperor’s actions may be deconstructed when they
are presented as based on negative reasons and as closely connected to his
allegedly bad character and motives (p.109–123). Third, imperial behaviour may
also be described as transgressing temporal or social logic (p.123–129). My ana-
lysis of the deconstruction of imperial representation through these three gen-
eral strategies will focus on the rhetorical structure of Tacitus’ texts and draws
on works that have discussed Tacitus’ rhetorical techniques, literary structures,

1 Syme 1958, 315 speaks of “the technique of comment, appraisement, and motivation”. In
my analysis, comment and motivation are means of appraisement. Winterling 2007, 116–117
briefly mentions similar techniques in the context of the unreliability of the texts as sources:
“Sie verfolgen häufig das Ziel, die Handlungen der Kaiser als sinnlos und wirr erscheinen zu
lassen. Dazu reißen sie sie aus dem Zusammenhang, lassen wichtige Begleitinformationen
aus oder behaupten nachweisbar Falsches.”

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004407558_007

strategies of deconstruction in tacitus 95

and ways of presenting his material. In general, these devices become effective
through the Tacitean narrator and mainly in a linear reading of the text. We will
see later that Suetonius’ deconstruction depends on different structural aspects
of the text.2

2 Negative Connotations: ‘Facts’, Additions, and Foils

2.1 Comments and Order

It is a standard technique of deconstruction to turn something that could be
presented as a positive ‘fact’ into something negative by a simple comment.
This technique is employed effectively with ‘facts’ that run the risk of inviting
praise. Thus comments are often placed after a hitherto positive evaluation.3
There are, of course, abundant examples of Tacitus’ technique of commenting
negatively on behaviour, events, and actions. For instance, at first, Nero’s build-
ings after the fire are described appreciatively. Even though Nero is said to have
at least taken advantage of the destruction after the fire by building his own
new palace (Ann. 15.42.1),4 the space that was left in the city is used for build-
ings in a very effective and thoughtful way (Ann. 15.43.1–4). Tacitus’ Nero acts
deliberately (Ann. 15.43.1), promises to spend his own money on the building
programme (Ann. 15.43.2), takes actions himself (Ann. 15.43.3), and is depic-
ted as competent and as completely in control of the situation (Ann. 15.43.4).5
The assertion that these measures were welcomed for their utility and their
aesthetic value seems to provide a suitable summary of Nero’s building endeav-
ours: ea ex utilitate accepta decorem quoque novae urbi attulere (Ann. 15.43.5).
But the passage does not end here. It concludes, rather, with a negative state-
ment that at least calls Nero’s building practice into question: some people
thought (erant tamen qui crederent) that Nero’s new buildings were harmful
to health as they provided no shade and produced a more oppressive heat
(Ann. 15.43.5). The text, fully aware of its adversative ending, as the tamen (Ann.
15.43.5) indicates, leaves the reader somewhat disconcerted: how should one
weigh the utility in cases of fire and the pleasing outlook against the possible
harm for everyone’s health?6

2 See chapter 10.

3 Cf. Hausmann 2012, 143 on “relativierende Nachträge” als “Mittel der Leserlenkung”. He dis-
tinguishes between accusation of hypocrisy, labelling something as an exception, and vitu-
peration.
4 Cf. p.67.
5 His activity here contrasts sharply with his lack of interest in military actions (for which see
p.57–60).
6 There are also examples of imperial performances that are potentially positive and only
96 chapter 4

2.2 Hubris versus Moderatio

A less explicit way to frame an element of imperial representation negatively is
to depict it as a form of hubris. The emperor is shown as exceeding an accept-
able degree of something, acting immoderately, or crossing a certain moral,
legal, or social boundary. Both the degree and the boundary may be named
explicitly or may operate more implicitly as a background foil to the form of
imperial representation under consideration.
We have already analysed some of Nero’s forms of imperial representation
as hubristic and without measure in Tacitus, especially his building endeavours
(cf. incredibilium cupitor, Ann. 15.42.2) and his forms of public entertainment
(cf. the banquet of Tigellinus, Ann. 15.37.1–3).7 Tacitus’ Galba offers a kind of
summary of Nero which focuses on Nero’s immoderateness: in his adoption
speech he claims that Nero was brought down precisely by his immanitas and
luxuria (Hist. 1.16.2). This excessiveness of Tacitus’ Nero pertains not only to his
public image, but also to his emotions. When Poppaea is pregnant and Nero’s
daughter is born, he receives this event ultra mortale gaudium, exceeding mor-
tal joy (Ann. 15.23.1). When the child dies after four months Nero is depicted
as being as immoderate in his grief as he was in his joy (atque ipse ut laetitiae,
ita maeroris immodicus egit, Ann. 15.23.3). Being excessive both in positive and
negative emotions, Tacitus’ Nero reacts completely differently from Tacitus’
Agricola, to whom we can contrast him here. Agricola turns a similar emo-
tional reaction into military actions: in grief for his dead son, war is for him
inter remedia (Agr. 29.1).
Instead of producing a list of Nero’s actions that are depicted as immoder-
ate, I would like to focus on an instructive passage in which Tacitus’ Nero is
reluctant to embrace moderation on an abstract level in an argumentative con-
text, namely his debate with Seneca when the latter tries to retire. In favour of
his retirement Seneca presents several arguments concerning moderation. He

become negative by explicit comments, for example Tiberius’ conduct in rejecting excess-
ive honours. Tacitus’ Tiberius does not accept the title parens patriae and sharply criticizes
those who had spoken of his divine occupations (divinas occupationes) and of him as their
master (ipsumque dominum dixerant) (Ann. 2.87). But this is not, as panegyrical literature
would do it, interpreted as modest behaviour. Instead, Tiberius’ behaviour is criticized as the
reason (unde) for the restricted and hazardous language (angusta et lubrica oratio) under an
emperor who feared liberty and hated flattery (sub principe, qui libertatem metuebat, adu-
lationem oderat) (Ann. 2.87). A potentially praiseworthy action is interpreted as a symptom
of a princeps who provides his subjects with a dilemma: of the two options, libertas and adula-
tio, neither can be successful. We will come back to the function of such Tacitean oppositions
later. See p.149–154.
7 See p.67–72.
strategies of deconstruction in tacitus 97

says that the only thing his good fortune lacks is the ability to make moder-
ate use of it (ut nihil felicitati meae desit nisi moderatio eius, Ann. 14.53.2). He
also argues that both he himself and Nero have reached their limit (sed uterque
mensuram implevimus, Ann. 14.54.1), the princeps in how much he has given to
his friend Seneca, and Seneca in how much he has accepted from the princeps.
But Tacitus’ Nero is resistant to such arguments. He does not accept Seneca’s
wish for moderatio and rest, as he is afraid that they might be interpreted as
a sign of his own greed and cruelty: non tua moderatio si reddideris pecuniam,
nec quies, si reliqueris principem, sed mea avaritia, meae crudelitatis metus in
ore omnium versabitur (Ann. 14.56.2). In the context of this debate, in which
Tacitus’ Nero argues against Seneca and opposes his notions about moderatio,
he exhibits a crucial non-understanding and non-acceptance of moderation as
such.
Differently from Tacitus’ Seneca in this passage, other figures surrounding
the emperors are evaluated by their hubris and their lack of moderatio too. The
emperor’s immoderateness often fits well with his entourage’s lack of measure.
Pallas exceeds the measure suitable for a freedman by his harsh arrogance (Pal-
las tristi adrogantia modum liberti egressus, Ann. 13.2.2). The conduct of Nero’s
mother Agrippina is shown as immoderate and as crossing existing boundaries
several times. That she is seated before the Roman standards when Caratacus
praises and thanks her in the same way he thanks Claudius, is pointed out as
new (novum sane) and as uncommon in the manners of old (moribus veterum
insolitum) (Ann. 12.37.4): Agrippina’s crossing of boundaries is underlined by
explicitly calling it an innovation twice (novum; insolitum). Tacitus associates
her high position with her unique role as daughter of a commander and sister,
wife, and mother of a princeps ( feminae, quam imperatore genitam, sororem
eius qui rerum potitus sit et coniugem et matrem fuisse, unicum ad hunc diem
exemplum est, Ann. 12.42.2). When Claudius receives divine honours and the
same funeral ceremony as Augustus, Agrippina wants to exceed the sumptu-
ousness of Livia (aemulante Agrippina proaviae Liviae magnificentiam, Ann.
12.69.3). With regard to her son Nero she can change fast from being immod-
erate in restraining him to being excessively obsequious (ut nimia nuper coer-
cendo filio, ita rursum intemperanter demissa, Ann. 13.13.2).
In describing imperial behaviour as crossing certain boundaries the histori-
ographical discourse—perhaps surprisingly, at first sight—shares a strategy
with panegyrical literature. A crucial element of panegyrics is to present imper-
ial actions as bigger, better, more important than ever before, or as novel
and innovative. That emperors cross boundaries and exceed accepted degrees
of imperial representation is celebrated by Neronian and Domitianic poets.
We have already seen several examples of this panegyrical mode of speak-
98 chapter 4

ing, in reference to all sorts of imperial representation.8 Poets apply differ-

ent strategies to legitimize such transgressions. Domitian’s construction of the
via Domitiana for example is a transgression of nature, but a positive one
(Stat. Silv. 4.3). Domitian is described as better and more powerful than nature
(natura melior potentiorque, Stat. Silv. 4.3.135). It is pointed out that travellers
profit from the new road, which reflects Domitian’s care for his people (Stat.
Silv. 4.3.20; 27–35). The construction, which involves a transgression of nat-
ural boundaries, is thus distanced from the building projects of Xerxes, Julius
Caesar, Caligula, and Nero, for which they also crossed natural boundaries
and in which they were evaluated as hubristic.9 Martial exaggerates the idea
of the emperor as surpassing and exceeding everything when he addresses
Domitian as even surpassing himself: ducum victor, victor et ipse tui (Mart.
8.56.2).10
The motif of depicting the emperor as crossing boundaries is taken up
in historiographical discourse by accepting his transgressions. They are not
denied but now clearly marked as negative. As we have seen in chapter 3,
imperial building endeavours, coded as successful material representations of
the emperor’s splendour, are re-coded as luxurious acts of destruction; the
emperor’s divine aura, a panegyrical sign of his crossing of human bound-
aries, is deconstructed by making him a low human being again. The use of
power is re-coded as abuse of power, as the vice of licentia.11 The motif of
surpassing one’s predecessors can also be turned against an emperor. Thus in
the Agricola Domitian is depicted as worse than Nero and as crossing bound-
aries that even Nero had respected: Nero ordered crimes, but did not watch
them; the worst thing under Domitian was that people had to watch the vic-
tims and were at the same time watched themselves (Agr. 45.2). The distance
from Nero that the Flavians and the historical Domitian propagated is decon-
structed: Domitian appears as close to Nero and, in direct comparison, as even
worse.
In critical literature, moderation—as opposed to the crossing of boundar-
ies—is considered a positive character trait. The outstanding example of mod-

8 See chapter 3 and chapter 1.

9 Cf. Cordes 2017, 190–191; 193 on Stat. Silv. 4.3.56–60. On further strategies that legitimize
the construction of the road see Cordes 2017, 189–195.
10 Cf. Domitian as victor perpetuus in Stat. Silv. 4.3.84.
11 The Tacitean Domitian is criticized for his licentia already in his youth (Agr. 7.2; cf. non-
dum ad curas intentus, sed stupris et adulteriis filium principis agebat, Hist. 4.2.1), and in
this respect, again, contrasted to Agricola (nec Agricola licenter, more iuvenum qui mili-
tiam in lasciviam vertunt, neque segniter ad voluptates et commeatus titulum tribunatus et
inscitiam rettulit, Agr. 5.1).
strategies of deconstruction in tacitus 99

eratio in Tacitean literature is Agricola. Since he is contrasted to Domitian

throughout the Agricola, his moderate behaviour provides a foil for Domitian’s
imperial conduct, which thereby appears even more excessive. Tacitus’ father-
in-law shows moderatio in many areas of his life. The first kind of modera-
tio we read about concerns his interest in philosophy (Agr. 4.3). He is first
interested in philosophy “to a further extent than is allowed to a Roman and
indeed a senator”.12 But reason and age assuaged him, “and yet he retained the
moderation which derives from philosophy”:13 mox mitigavit ratio et aetas, re-
tinuitque, quod est difficillimum, ex sapientia modum (Agr. 4.3). As praetor he
exercises financial moderation, “a middle course consisting of ratio and abun-
dantia” (medio rationis atque abundantiae, Agr. 6.4).14 Agricola’s strict moder-
ation in self-praise, or rather his eschewal of self-praise, a third form of mod-
eration, allows him to achieve gloria without invidia (Agr. 8.3). The relation of
fama and dissimulatio is thus the opposite in Tacitus’ Agricola and Domitian,
respectively: while Domitian simulates his success (Agr. 39.1), Agricola tries to
hide everything that might gain fame. Paradoxically, exactly this dissimulatio
causes his fame: sed ipsa dissimulatione famae famam auxit (Agr. 18.6). The
crucial element about Agricola’s dissimulatio and moderatio is that it allows
him to deal quite well with Domitian for a very long time. Agricola’s moderatio
together with his prudentia is his instrument to calm the emperor’s anger (Agr.
42.3).
moderatio is a positive quality in both the Annals and the Histories. Tacitus’
Titus becomes more moderate as princeps: laetam voluptatibus adulescentiam
egit, suo quam patris imperio moderatior (Hist. 2.2.1). Nero’s general Corbulo
does not lose his sense of measure even in times of success (quamvis secundis
rebus suis, moderandum fortunae ratus, Ann. 15.5.1), unlike his Roman opponent
Paetus, who is not able to maintain moderation in his glory (si aut gloriam cum
modo aut praedam cum cura habuisset, Ann. 15.8.2). Vologaesus at least tries
to achieve a reputation for moderation ( fama moderationis quaerebatur, Ann.
15.15.3) after indulging his pride. Even Tacitus’ Tiberius often exercises modera-
tio and maintains boundaries. He is prudens moderandi, when he does not get
carried away by his own anger (si propria ira non impelleretur, Ann. 3.69.5). He is
able to decline honours, especially when offered by sycophants (Ann. 3.47.3–4;
3.59.2; 4.37.1). But, then again, his moderate behaviour is most often part of his
calculation. His moderation in accepting honours for his mother Livia at the

12 Woodman 2014, 100.

13 Woodman 2014, 102.
14 Woodman 2014, 112.
100 chapter 4

beginning of his reign is explained by his jealousy (Ann. 1.14.2). After her death
he is said to have cancelled her honours only under the pretence of modesty
(quasi per modestiam, Ann. 5.2.1). The reader is invited to think that his appeal
to measure (modus) regarding the honours and grief for the dead Germanicus
(Ann. 3.5–6) is also motivated by his own jealousy.15
The declining of honours is a special case of exhibiting moderatio. In pan-
egyrical literature, emperors are applauded for not accepting them, and for not
suggesting and not wanting them.16 While panegyrical literature presents such
offerings as expressions of true feelings and as merited by the modest emperor,
Tacitus turns them into vain actions of sycophants or cowards, who support
the emperor’s false image of himself. The line between successful, moderate
flattery and the ridiculous can be very thin (see e.g. Ann. 3.57). In Nero’s reign,
the senate exceeds appropriate degrees of honours right from the beginning
(apud senatum omnia in maius celebrata sunt sententiis eorum; praeter suetam
adulationem, Ann. 13.8.1), when Nero is still refusing silver or golden statues of
himself and the notion that the calendar year should begin with the month in
which he was born, December (Ann. 13.10.1). The honours voted to Nero after
Corbulo destroyed Artaxata are explicitly said to overstep measure (modum
egressa, Ann. 13.41.4). Their outrageousness is underlined, as mentioned above,
by Tacitus’ Gaius Cassius who remarks that there were not enough days in the
whole year to be declared holidays for Nero’s victory (ne totum quidem annum
supplicationibus sufficere, Ann. 13.41.4).
The social system of giving and receiving honours implies an important role
for the upper class. From a structural viewpoint the interplay between the sen-
ators, who offer honours, and the emperors, who accept or decline them, is
prominent. This interplay is of different interest and is differently evaluated
in the critical texts on Nero and Domitian.17 Tacitus clearly takes an interest
in both parties involved, not only in the emperor, since he openly blames
the senators too for the immoderate offers of honours.18 This most import-

15 Cf. Ann. 2.83.1–4 on honours for Germanicus, which, by contrast, are not criticized, but
implicitly treated as appropriate by the narrator.
16 Cf. Mause 1994, 211 on Statius describing Domitian’s pudor, moderatio, and modestia in
rejecting public honours.
17 For Cassius Dio see p.185; 240–241, for Suetonius see p.286.
18 Tacitus hence also deconstructs the image of the Neronian and Domitianic senate, and
not just that of the emperors. The senate is not depicted as blameless for the events, since
the senators, for example, exceed appropriate degrees of honours and accept that rewards
for the emperor do not need a foundation in reality (see p.127–128). For criticism of the
senate, in addition to the passages mentioned above, see Agr. 45.1; Hist. 1.4.3; Ann. 14.11.2;
14.49.2; 14.60.1.
strategies of deconstruction in tacitus 101

antly concerns incidents in which the public not only praises Nero’s good
or neutral deeds too much, but in which they even praise his misdeeds and
crimes. Public prayers (supplicationes) and other honours are decreed after
the murder of Agrippina (Ann. 14.12.1) and the murders of Plautus and Sulla
(Ann. 14.59.4). Talking about the offerings for the temples that were decreed
after Octavia’s murder, the Tacitean narrator makes his purpose of mentioning
these events explicit (quem ad finem memorabimus?): everyone should know
that whenever the emperor ordered exile or murder, the gods were thanked;
the former indicators of happy events had thus become those of public dis-
aster (Ann. 14.64.3). The Tacitean narrator confirms that he will not be silent
about a senatorial decree that was new in its flattery or extreme in its sub-
missiveness (Ann. 14.64.3). This pattern is augmented once more in the depic-
tion of people’s actions after the cruel end of the Pisonian conspiracy. While
the city was filled with funerals and the Capitol with victims, and after one
person had lost his father, the other his brother, relative, or friend, people
thanked the gods, decorated Nero’s palace with laurel, fell at his knees and
kissed his hands (Ann. 15.71.1). The narrator also mentions Nero’s reaction,
of misinterpreting this as joy (ille gaudium id credens, Ann. 15.71.1). Insincere
honours, we are to learn here, support the emperor in thinking that he is act-
ing correctly and in his incorrect interpretation of his surroundings. Likewise,
in the Agricola flatterers are implicitly criticized for blinding and corrupting
Domitian’s mind (tam caeca et corrupta mens assiduis adulationibus erat, Agr.
43.3).

2.3 Narrative Performance of Gender and Ethnicity

At the centre of the third strategy of deconstructing imperial representation
by negative connotations are concepts of gender and ethnicity. Something the
emperor does or creates can be criticized by connoting it as unmanly or un-
Roman, two attributes that are closely connected in criticizing a Roman man
in ancient texts and in modern theory: since Michel Foucault, gender has been
analysed in relation to power, discussing issues of control, (male) dominance,
and (female) subordination. The Roman emperor stands at the top of Rome’s
patriarchal society. Historiographical deconstruction calls this leading role into
question by describing emperors as crossing boundaries and defying norms of
masculinity and Romanness.19

19 For Tacitean values and norms in general see Vielberg 1987, who analyses the notions
of adulatio, servitium/servitus, obsequium, moderatio/modestia, libertas, contumacia in
Tacitus.
102 chapter 4

The topic of gender in Tacitus has been discussed by Thomas Späth.20 He

focuses on what he calls ‘narrative performance’ of gender. By that term he
means the depiction of actions of both male and female figures in the narrative
of a text that refers to and is based on actions by men and women in real social
settings.21 Späth analyses the elements of normative masculinity and norm-
ative femininity in Tacitean texts. He points out that no figure in the text is
uniformly masculine or feminine according to these norms and that there is
not just one concept of masculinity. However, a basic definition of masculin-
ity and femininity provides a useful heuristic tool for analysing the behaviour
of Tacitus’ figures. The most important feature of normative masculinity in
Tacitus is, following Späth, active dominance both over other people and over
oneself.22 It is best embodied in the Roman pater familias and manifests itself
in three modes of action towards his subordinates: the pater familias exercises
control over them, has to take care of them, and can make use of them for the
purposes of the family (e.g. by arranging marriages). His behaviour aims for
continuity and social prestige in his domus and his offspring. In this sense, the
princeps, as pater who has power over the other patres, can be considered as a
kind of “super-pater”.23
While a Tacitean man has to acquire masculinity by learning, femininity is
inherent to women by nature.24 To analyse patterns of femininity in Tacitus,
Späth draws on a passage presenting two speeches in the senate about whether
magistrates should be allowed to take their wives with them to the provinces.25
This passage is illuminating since both speakers, although presenting contrary
opinions on the question under debate, nonetheless base their arguments on
the same (commonplace) assumptions about femininity: women are weak by
nature, inclined to extravagance, fear, and sensuality, they are unsuited to hard-
ship, are ruthless, self-seeking, and greedy, and so they have to be controlled
(Ann. 3.33–34). The passage illustrates how the concept of femininity in Tacitus
entails subordination under the control, care, and instrumentalization of the

20 He partly distances himself from his PhD dissertation (Späth 1994) in later articles (Späth
2011, 124 n. 8; Späth 2011, 130 n. 38).
21 See Späth 2011, 122–123; 154–155.
22 See Späth 2011, 130–136; Späth 2012, 435–438.
23 Späth 1994, 344. See Späth 1994, 339–346, on the relationship of the princeps to the senat-
ors: Späth analyses the role of the princeps as “super-pater” as a way to de-masculinize the
senators.
24 Späth 2011, 139 speaks of femininity in Tacitean texts as a “descriptive determination”
instead of a “prescriptive norm”.
25 See Späth 2011, 140–141; Späth 2012, 441–442.
strategies of deconstruction in tacitus 103

pater familias; it furthermore considers fidelity and fertility to be the most

important traits of women.26
Tacitus depicts emperors in a way that shows them transgressing these pat-
terns and failing to fulfil these norms of masculinity.27 Nero and Domitian are
both ‘unmanly’, but in different ways.28 Neither the historical Nero nor the his-
torical Domitian could fulfil their masculine duties of producing offspring and
securing the continuity of their domus. They also failed to enlarge its social
prestige. But the deconstruction of masculinity in the Tacitean texts turns out
to be quite individual for each emperor.
Nero is often depicted as not in control of himself, but as being influenced by
Seneca and Burrus, by Agrippina, Acte, and Poppaea (Ann. 13.6.2; 13.12.2; 14.1–
12).29 Especially his dependence on his mother is problematized and presented
as troubling the public at the beginning of his reign (quod subsidium in eo,
qui a femina regeretur, … anquirebant, Ann. 13.6.2). Even more unmanly than
the control imposed on him by other people is the fact that the Tacitean Nero
enjoys giving away control himself. He even organizes performances that show
him losing control. His performances as artist are explicitly characterized as
unmanly (haud viriles, Ann. 14.15.1).30 Another, very special performance, in
which Nero even plays himself and not just the role of someone else, is his mar-
riage to Pythagoras (Ann. 15.37.4): in this ceremony, Nero is the bride married
to the freedman Pythagoras. The marriage is presented as the only remaining
transgression possible after the city orgy organized by Tigellinus.31 It is also
linked to that orgy through the figures of the narrative because Pythagoras
is said to have been present there too. The narrator points out that it was
a formal wedding ceremony involving the bridal veil—worn by the emperor
Nero—, augurs, dowry, marriage bed, and wedding torches (inditum imper-
atori flammeum, missi auspices; dos et genialis torus et faces nuptiales, Ann.

26 See Späth 2011, 142–144; Späth 2012, 442–443.

27 I do not distinguish as clearly as Späth does in his analysis (Späth 2012, 443) between
‘unmanliness’ (referring to the status of a man who does not acquire masculinity) and
‘femininity’ (the natural status of all women), because in the process of deconstruction
the category of ‘not manly’ entails both aspects and plays on the closeness of the man
who is ‘unmanly’ (in Späth’s terms) to naturally ‘feminine’ women.
28 Späth 2011, 134 (see also Späth 2012, 438) briefly mentions Nero’s lack of self-restraint in
the forms of his greed and luxury.
29 Dependence on women (and freedmen) is also one of the standard reproaches against
Claudius (e.g. Ann. 11.29; 12.1).
30 For the association of actors with femininity see Woodman 1993, 124 on effeminatus char-
acterizing actors.
31 Cf. the close reading of this passage on p.71–72, and p.125–126.
104 chapter 4

15.37.4).32 Here again, Nero’s transgression is depicted as the transgression of

a transgression: even if this had been a regular wedding with a female bride,
the narrator points out, these things would have been hidden (cuncta denique
spectata, quae etiam in femina nox operit, Ann. 15.37.4).33 That the bride is
male—and what is more: the emperor—doubles and triples the transgres-
sion.34 Scholarship has proposed that Nero’s historical performance of this
marriage was meant as tactical mockery and as a joke about an important
Roman ritual, or that it was a ‘mystic’ marriage connected to Mithraic cere-
monies.35 Had this really been the case, Tacitus would, of course, not have
felt obliged to explain the background of Nero’s performance, even if he were
aware of it and understood it himself.36 However, that must remain only a
thought-experiment, since we cannot know what Nero really meant, nor how
the senators and later Tacitus understood it. But it would be in accord with
the strategies Tacitus applies throughout, if he considered it more effective for
the deconstruction of imperial representation not to give any explanation of
Nero’s behaviour, instead of making an explicit link between Nero’s wedding
and a real ritual.37 This way, the text leaves the reader with the impression of
an emperor who indulges his completely unmanly (immoral and un-Roman)
role.
Domitian is not depicted as unmanly in these Neronian terms in Tacitus.38
He does have control over himself and his subordinates. But this control is char-
acterized as overdone. As outlined above, the princeps as pater of the patres
also has to take care of his subjects. The Tacitean princeps Domitian, whom we
can grasp in the Agricola, is a master of control both of his own emotions (Agr.
39.1; 39.3; 42.3; 43.3) and, thanks to his system of spies (Agr. 2.3), of his citizens.
But the text constructs his envy of others as the reason for this control (Agr.

32 While Tacitus’ focus is on the ceremony, Suetonius’ interest in the wedding with Pytha-
goras, whom he calls Doryphorus, is more on sexuality. See Späth 2011, 135 and p.289.
33 For the series of transgressions in the whole passage see p.125–126.
34 Criticism of Nero in the Octavia works similarly. He is e.g. reproached for ‘doubling’ the
matricide, with the attack on Agrippina’s ship followed by stabbing her; see Cordes 2017,
218–219 on ingens geminatque nefas (Oct. 363); ingens scelere geminavit nefas (Oct. 605).
35 Allen 1962, 104–107, analyses similarities with Mithraic initiation.
36 This is the view of Miller 1973, 87, who calls into question the historical connection
between Nero’s wedding performance and a religious rite such as a festival of Flora or
a Mithraic ceremony: “It is not impossible, given Nero’s temperament and interests: but
it is strange that neither Tacitus nor Suetonius (Nero 28–9) makes such a connection: fol-
lowing a strange ritual would have made another charge.”
37 See p.114.
38 But see Domitian’s description as effeminate in Plin. Pan. 48.4 ( femineus pallor in corpore).
strategies of deconstruction in tacitus 105

39.1–2). Its result is a system that suppresses virtues and creates fear (Agr. 3.1;
41.1). In Tacitus, Domitian’s control thus contradicts his masculine duty to care
for his people.
The Tacitean texts often connect un-manliness with un-Romanness.39
Foreign things are generally presented as suspicious and threatening.40 A
Roman emperor or representative of the imperial domus has to behave in a
Roman way.41 Nero’s artistry is understood both as foreign, especially Greek,
and as not masculine: the arguments presented against Nero’s Neronia
games draw on their effeminate and un-Roman character (ceterum abolitos
paulatim patrios mores funditus everti per accitam lasciviam, Ann. 14.20.4; dege-
neretque studiis externis iuventus, Ann. 14.20.4; fractos sonos et dulcedinem
vocum, Ann. 14.20.5). For his first public performance Nero is shown as delib-
erately choosing a Greek city, Naples (Ann. 15.33.2). His behaviour is influ-
enced by Greek ideas (Ann. 14.47.2), which entail new and un-Roman social
ideals and virtues.42 More un-Roman elements in his imperial representa-
tion can be found: during the Pisonian conspiracy Tacitus’ Nero trusts the
Germans more than the Romans (Germanis, quibus fidebat princeps quasi
externis, Ann. 15.58.2). Poppaea’s funeral is described as foreign and un-Roman
(regum externorum consuetudine, Ann. 16.6.2). The banquet of Tigellinus (Ann.
15.37.1–3), too, includes several elements that point to Nero’s un-Roman-

39 Since Späth himself points out that the performance of gender both in texts and in real-
ity is always intertwined with other social roles such as political position or juridical
status (see Späth 2011, 123; 139)—a phenomenon which he refers to as “intersectorial per-
formance” (Späth 2011, 144)—I am expanding his concept of ‘narrative performance of
gender’ here to ‘narrative performance of gender and ethnicity’. For the modern connec-
tion between sexism and racism see Späth 1994, 16. For the connection of un-manliness
and un-Romanness in Tacitus’ account of the campaigns in Britain see Roberts 1988,
esp. 121–124.
40 See for example the accusation of Pomponia Graecina as superstitionis externae rea (Ann.
13.32.2) and the speech against (foreign) slaves in Ann. 14.44.3 (postquam vero nationes in
familiis habemus, quibus diversi ritus, externa sacra aut nulla sunt, conluviem istam non nisi
metu coercueris, “but since now we have in our households tribes of foreigners who have
different rites, and alien religions, or no religion at all, you will not hold scum like that in
check except by intimidation”).
41 This is why Tiberius criticizes (although in lenient terms) Germanicus’ un-Roman clothes
and habits in Alexandria (cultu habituque eius lenibus verbis perstricto, Ann. 2.59.2). The
incestuous marriage of Claudius and Agrippina has to be legitimated by referring to other
nations (at enim nova nobis in fratrum filias coniugia: sed aliis gentibus sollemnia, neque
lege ulla prohibita, Ann. 12.6.3).
42 For the new, Greek point of reference for Nero’s values (especially as regards his repres-
entation as artist) as a problem for the Roman upper classes see Winterling 2007, 130;
Mratschek 2013, 45–47; 50–51; 53–56.
106 chapter 4

ness.43 Anthony Woodman has analysed the city orgy and its traits of for-
eignness, animalism, decadence, and perversion.44 He argues that Tacitus aims
to depict Rome as a foreign, alien place, and that Tacitus’ Nero finally creates a
metonymic Alexandria and can be understood as the attacker of Rome.
Throughout the Annals, these descriptions of emperors as unmanly and un-
Roman become more effective by contrasting them to women who behave
in a more manly way than men, and foreigners who act more Roman than
the Romans themselves.45 Agrippina the Elder provides an example of this
gender-untypical behaviour.46 She transgresses female norms: yearning for
power (dominandi avida) she casts off female weaknesses and turns to the tasks
of a man (virilibus curis feminarum vitia exuerat) (Ann. 6.25.2). Tacitus’ Nero is
surrounded by similarly contrasting figures. Such a constellation increases the
dramatic effect of depicting a man and a woman as antagonists.47 There are
foreigners who do not want to be ruled by Agrippina, a woman (inde accensi
hostes, stimulante ignominia, ne feminae imperio subderentur, Ann. 12.40.3), and
who are thinking and feeling in a very Roman way. Germanic foreigners behave
unconventionally, but also with such a spirit of freedom that Nero grants them
Roman citizenship (Ann. 13.54.4). Indeed, especially the ‘barbarian other’ may
be depicted in very positive terms. In general, this notion is best illustrated by
the Germania, often read as a Sittenspiegel to Roman society.48 But there are

43 Cf., again, the close reading of this passage on p.71–72.

44 Woodman 1998 starts his analysis from the events preceding the banquet of Tigellinus
in the text: Nero does not leave Rome, but stays there, though his thoughts are occupied
with the East and Egypt (Ann. 15.36.1). Woodman reads the banquet as a realization of
these thoughts and of Nero’s wish to turn Rome into a foreign city because he could not
leave it.
45 The contrast between Romans and foreigners also pertains to their willingness to invent
things and believe them, to the dynamic of fingere and credere, as Haynes puts it (Haynes
2003, 13): “In his articulation of make/believe, Tacitus often compares or mirrors the
Roman situation with that of foreigners.” Roberts 1988, 130–131 shows that the outspoken-
ness of foreigners, women (and old people) often contrasts with the doublespeak of
imperial Rome.
46 Cf. Späth’s analysis of Agrippina the Elder in Späth 2011, 150–151; Späth 2012, 447–448.
47 For the dramatic tension between different genders see Billerbeck 1991, 2768, referring
to the pairs Claudius and Messalina, and Nero and Agrippina as examples: “Wie bereits
bemerkt, nimmt bei Tacitus die dramatische Spannung zu, wo echte Gegenspieler—
vorzugsweise Mann und Frau—agieren.”
48 A reading of the Germania as a Sittenspiegel, however, requires a differentiation: some-
times the Germani represent Roman virtues better than the Romans themselves, some-
times they take Roman values to unacceptable degrees (e.g. military valour), and some-
times they represent the opposite of a Roman value (e.g. regarding their lack of discipline).
See Rives 2012, 50–52.
strategies of deconstruction in tacitus 107

also examples in the Annals, such as Arminius (e.g. Ann. 1.57). In particular,
Boudicca and Epicharis stand out. The British queen Boudicca is both a woman
and a foreigner, yet is still appreciated in her role by the narrator (Ann. 14.35;
14.37; femina duce, Agr. 16.1).49 And in the aftermath of the Pisonian conspiracy
Epicharis, a freedwoman, stands out and incorporates male virtues better than
any of the disappointing men in the story.50
The concept of Romanness presupposes a distinction between Rome and
not-Rome, in which Rome is superior to the rest of the world and the rest of the
world admires Rome for it. Such a concept implies that Rome should be presen-
ted as superior to visiting foreigners or even to provincials who do not live in the
city. In Tacitus’ narrative, Nero does not achieve this. It is his general Corbulo
who cares about what foreigners see and witness and what they should not wit-
ness (ne diutius externis spectaculo esset, Ann. 13.9.2). Later, when Vologaesus
asks for his brother Tiridates honours in Rome as high as those of consuls,
Tacitus interprets this demand as foreign arrogance to which Vologaesus is
accustomed, and ascribes it to his ignorance of the Romans (externae super-
biae sueto non inerat notitia nostri, Ann. 15.31). For the Romans, so Tacitus, only
real power is vigorous, whereas mere vanities are disregarded (apud quos vis
imperii valet, inania tramittuntur, Ann. 15.31). Tacitus may be referring mainly to
his own times (nostri), the reigns of Trajan and Hadrian, and may in fact mean
what he says. But the sentence praising true power and the neglect of vanit-
ies, embedded in the Neronian narrative, seems ironic. Introduced by scilicet,
it invites the reader to think exactly the opposite, at least for Neronian times:
the foreigner Vologaesus is not familiar with Roman standards because they do
not exist anymore.
Not only the depiction of non-Romans and Rome, but, to move on to another
device of deconstruction, also the relationship between Roman provincials—
foreigners to the city of Rome—and Rome is used to deconstruct imperial
representation. The description of the audience’s reaction to Nero’s perform-
ances at the Neronia in 65 CE makes a sharp distinction between the people of
Rome itself and the rest. On the one side there is the plebs urbis, accustomed
to support the gestures even of actors, which makes the theatre resound with

49 While Boudicca is presented as legitimizing her male actions in her speech (solitum
quidem Britannis feminarum ductu bellare testabatur, Ann. 14.35.1; id mulieri destinatum:
viverent viri et servirent, Ann. 14.35.2), the Roman general Suetonius in his speech to the
troops claims that the Britons are mainly women (plus illic feminarum quam iuventutis
adspici, Ann. 14.36.1). On Boudicca’s speech (as focusing on the problems of Roman expan-
sionism) and Tacitus’ portrait of Boudicca see also Adler 2008, 179–184; 194.
50 Cf. Späth 2011, 151–154; Späth 2012, 448–450. See also p.151 on the disconcerting effect of
the figure of Epicharis.
108 chapter 4

its orchestrated applause (certis modis plausuque composito, Ann. 16.4.4). One
might think, Tacitus remarks, that they were happy, and perhaps they really
were happy, since they did not care about the public disgrace (per incuriam
publici flagitii, Ann. 16.4.4).51 The very different behaviour of the rest of the audi-
ence is introduced by sed (Ann. 16.5.1). The non-urban Romans are presented
as a distinct group consisting of those from the distant free towns and from an
Italy which was still strict and adhered to the old moral code, as well as those
who had come from faraway provinces as legates or for private business, who
had no experience of wantonness (qui remotis e municipiis severaque adhuc
et antiqui moris retinente Italia, quique per longinquas provincias lascivia inex-
perti officio legationum aut privata utilitate advenerant, Ann. 16.5.1). All these
people cannot endure this sight (neque adspectum illum tolerare) and they can-
not meet the demand for the degrading task of rhythmic clapping (Ann. 16.5.1).
Disturbing the others by their unpractised incorrect clapping, they get pun-
ished by soldiers standing amongst the blocks (Ann. 16.5.1). The centre of Rome
appears un-Roman to those not from Rome. Those who behave according to the
old manners of Rome get punished.
This passage can be read as deconstructing Neronian bucolic panegyrics. In
Calpurnius Siculus’ Ecloga 7 Corydon comes back from the city to the coun-
tryside. He reports his experience of Neronian Rome, especially Nero’s theatre
(Calp. Ecl. 7.36–38; 47–72). The positive impression on him was so strong that
he now considers the countryside to be inferior to Nero’s city of Rome (Calp.
Ecl. 7.4–7; 15–18). Carole Newlands has read this eclogue as a reversal of bucolic
values.52 In bucolic literature, shepherds and countrymen usually praise the
country as superior to the city, either in general terms or through their own
experience. Neronian panegyrics instead show a shepherd praising the city.
As Tacitus picks up the distinction and evaluation of city and country, we
can understand Tacitus’ account of the Neronia (Ann. 16.4–5) as part of the
same discourse. In deconstructing the panegyrical idea of the countryman who
prefers the city, Tacitus’ text mirrors the ‘original’ bucolic idea of the superiority
of the country where people have not yet experienced urban lascivia. But this
notion is transferred into the space of the city. The reader is given a description
of the reaction of countrymen to the city in the city itself, which brings across
the point that Rome has become a foreign city to the Romans living outside of
it. Morals have degenerated to the point that the situation can only be grasped
by outsiders, and no longer by insiders. Rome is not itself anymore.

51 Cf. p.69–70 for negative depictions of the people as a means to deconstruct Nero’s pop-
ularity with the lower classes.
52 See Newlands 1987, 220–223; 228; 288.
strategies of deconstruction in tacitus 109

3 Causation and Character

3.1 The Emperor’s Reasoning: The Sterile Octavia’s Abortion

While the previous section has focused on how an emperor’s deeds are depic-
ted as negative by means of unfavourable connotations, this section deals with
the deconstruction of an emperor’s motives for his acts and behaviour. A histor-
ical emperor and a Tacitean emperor act and behave on certain grounds. They
may explain them themselves, give ‘official reasons’ for their behaviour, or the
reasons for their acts and behaviour may be explained by someone else. Such
reasons behind an emperor’s deeds and imperial representation offer a fruitful
topic for deconstruction.
The explanation of reasons is an important part of the communication pro-
cess between the princeps and his people. The principate in the form estab-
lished by Augustus was based on a princeps who had absolute power in fact,
but who would not openly communicate this.53 The senators are, at least offi-
cially, supposed to take part in his decisions, and the princeps is expected to
communicate the reasons and purposes of his actions. This kind of commu-
nication allows the senators to feel they are an important element of imperial
politics. Historiographical discourse deals with the emperor’s reasons, the way
he presents them to his subjects, and the way they react to them. It deconstructs
the emperor’s reasons by unmasking them, either explicitly or implicitly, as
implausible, inappropriate, personal, or vain. The depiction of how such reas-
ons are received unmasks the whole system of communication as farce.
A passage which exhibits several strategies for deconstructing the emperor’s
reasons is the downfall of Octavia (Ann. 14.60–64). The presentation of the
emperor’s reasons and reasoning in this episode can be considered typical of
the process of deconstruction. The most important characteristic of the decon-
structed reasons of the emperor is that they lack a fundamentum in re: his
grounds are presented as merely invented, as we will see.54 That Nero put away
Octavia is introduced as a reaction to the senators’ acceptance and positive
appraisal of all his crimes: igitur accepto patrum consulto, postquam cuncta
scelerum suorum pro egregiis accipi videt, exturbat Octaviam (Ann. 14.60.1). He
drives his wife out, asserting that she is barren (sterilem dictitans, Ann. 14.60.1).
In the narrative, this official reason for Octavia’s fall is directly followed by a
new action: Nero marries Poppaea. The connection made by the text is only

53 Cf. p.15.
54 Tiberius, too, when he wants to get rid of Germanicus by sending him away to the East,
invents reasons for doing so or adopts reasons that are offered to him by chance (strux-
itque causas aut forte oblatas arripuit, Ann. 2.42.1).
110 chapter 4

a temporal one, given by the adverb exim (Ann. 14.60.1). But the direct juxta-
position implies a logical link too.55 We are led to think that Nero has expelled
Octavia precisely because he wants to marry Poppaea. Prompting the reader to
reach this conclusion independently may be more effective than simply stating
the logical link.56 The official reason, her sterility, will thus be doubted already
at this point in the narrative.
What follows proves this assumption. Poppaea is depicted as Nero’s mistress
and in full control of him. She plans and carries out a plot against Octavia,
who finds herself falsely accused of an affair with the slave Eucaerus (Ann.
14.60.2). This reproach is not only said directly by the narrator to be incorrect
( falsa, Ann. 14.60.3); it is also completely at odds with the former characteriza-
tions of Nero’s wife as noble, upright, and virtuous (e.g. uxore ab Octavia, nobili
quidem et probitatis spectatae, Ann. 13.12.2). Octavia is first removed under the
pretext of a civil divorce (civilis discidii specie), then banished to Campania
and put under military guard (Ann. 14.60.4). Since the people of Rome, promp-
ted by a rumour that Nero had recalled Octavia to the marriage, openly show
their support for her and their hatred for Poppaea, the latter initiates the final
stroke against Octavia (Ann. 14.61). Nero believes Poppaea’s false reasoning that
Octavia may lead a revolution against him (Ann. 14.61.3). Playing on Nero’s
fear and anger Poppaea makes him accuse Octavia of an affair and of treason
planned together with Anicetus, who had already helped murder Agrippina
(Ann. 14.62). Nero’s edict summarizes the false charges against Octavia: she
is said to have seduced the prefect in the hope that she could win over the
fleet (praefectum in spem sociandae classis corruptum, Ann. 14.63.1). These are
charges that the reader already knows. The reasons for Nero’s edict are now
complemented by a third reason, which is new to the reader: et incusatae paulo
ante sterilitatis oblitus, abactos partus conscientia libidinum (Ann. 14.63.1). Nero
accuses Octavia of an abortion, which she had conducted in consciousness of
her sexual excesses. This third reason is introduced by an explicit reminder to
the reader that Nero thereby forgot that he had shortly before accused her of
barrenness. Octavia is removed further away, to Pandateria, where she is finally
killed (Ann. 14.64).

55 Cf. similarly Heldmann 2013, 324 on Ann. 16.6.1.

56 I disagree with Hausmann, who argues that the reason why Tacitus mentions these causal
connections indirectly is because the conclusions he nudges the reader to draw are not
absolutely in accord with the historical facts and therefore cannot be openly presented
by a truthful historian (for this position see Hausmann 2012, 143: the reader is guided to
conclusions, “die oftmals den historischen Fakten nicht gerecht werden und daher von
Tacitus als einem gewissenhaften Historiker nicht offen geäußert werden dürfen”).
strategies of deconstruction in tacitus 111

In this passage, Tacitus’ Nero invents reasons (Octavia’s sterility and affair),
believes Poppaea’s false reasons (Octavia’s alleged plans for a revolution), and
does not succeed in producing a coherent version of events because the reas-
ons he invents contradict each other (Octavia’s sterility and abortion).57 But the
system of communication as depicted allows the emperor not to care about the
plausibility of his arguments. In the Neronian narrative, we can see that the
emperor puts less and less emphasis on the plausibility of his motives when
explaining what he does, especially regarding the murders he is responsible
for. When he has Plautus and Sulla58 killed (Ann. 14.57–59), he no longer even
tries to cover up his guilt, as he did with Agrippina. Although he does not
admit that he had them murdered (sed ad senatum litteras misit de caede Sullae
Plautique haud confessus, Ann. 14.59.4), he points to their disordered charac-
ter (utriusque turbidum ingenium) and to his own great care for the safety of
the state (Ann. 14.59.4)—which may be understood as reasons for the murder.
When the Tacitean Nero wants to remove C. Cassius and Silanus, the narrator
first makes it clear that there was no charge against them (nullo crimine, Ann.
16.7.1). The reasons Nero presents later—plans for starting a civil war, treason,
and revolution (Ann. 16.7.2)—are thus not to be believed by the reader, and
(at least for Silanus) are explicitly evaluated as inania simul et falsa (Ann.
16.8.1).
If we think of these reasons, clearly marked as implausible by the narrator,
in terms of a communication process, someone has to react to them. So the
historian also considers the interplay between the emperor’s reasoning and the
people who have to address these reasons, to believe them, and to be persuaded
by them. After the murder of Plautus and Sulla and Nero’s expression of care for
the state, the senators decree thank offerings and the removal of Sulla and Plau-
tus from the senate. Tacitus calls this a farce that is worse than the wrongdoings
themselves (gravioribus iam ludibriis quam malis, Ann. 14.59.4). Criticism of
the addressees of Nero’s reasons is also explicit after the murder of Agrippina.
Nero’s invented reproaches are far-fetched (crimina longius repetita), and no
one could believe the reasons that Nero presented for Agrippina’s death, as the
narrator points out in a rhetorical question: quis adeo hebes inveniretur, ut cre-

57 For the connection of lying and remembering cf. Quintilian, who advises the orator to
remember what he has invented for his speech, since one easily forgets this; he also cites a
saying among the people that the liar has to have a good memory (verumque est illud quod
vulgo dicitur, mendacem memorem esse oportere, Quint. Inst. 4.2.21).
58 In the Octavia, Seneca tries—unsuccessfully—to keep Nero from murdering Plautus and
Sulla (Oct. 440–471). In the end, Nero wants to kill not only Plautus and Sulla, but also his
wife Octavia (invisa coniunx pereat, Oct. 470).
112 chapter 4

deret? (Ann. 14.11.2). But still—and the logical connection is clearly marked by
the adversative tamen here—the notables (except Thrasea Paetus) decree pub-
lic prayers in an astonishing decision-making contest: miro tamen certamine
procerum decernuntur supplicationes apud omnia pulvinaria (Ann. 14.12.1). No
one admits that they know that the reasons presented by the emperor are not
the true ones.59 This kind of behaviour even allows Nero to legitimize the pun-
ishment of Antistius in a treason trial by saying that this is what the senators
wanted (Ann. 14.49.2). Tacitus makes the addressees of the emperor’s reasons
to a certain extent accountable for the fact that the emperor did not need to
care about their plausibility and quality.

3.2 Reasons for the Emperor’s Behaviour

From the reasons that Tacitus’ emperors themselves give for their imperial
actions we can distinguish the reasons that the narrator gives for their actions.
In the first case, the reasons presented by the emperors are both the object and
the means of deconstruction: a reason that the emperor presents for a certain
deed can code this very act negatively. In the second case, reasons given by
the narrator, which explain imperial behaviour from an outside point of view,
are merely a means of deconstruction. Ascribing a certain motivation to an
imperial behaviour may be aimed at its direct critique. It may also contradict
an ‘official’ reason presented by the emperor. There is a lot of variation in the
ways that such authorial reasons for behaviour are presented in the text. We
can distinguish three grades: first, reasons for imperial behaviour may be given
directly by the narrator; second, reasons may be suggested or hinted at by the
narrator or one of his characters; third, reasons may be markedly absent from
the text.
(1) The reasons that the narrator gives for imperial behaviour sometimes
refute an official version of the events under discussion. The historian, who
allegedly knows the real motives as opposed to those that the emperor presents,
makes the reader distrust the reasons the emperor himself provides. The offi-
cial version differs from the narrator’s true reason, for example, in the case
of the death of Torquatus Silanus. We are told that Nero has Torquatus Sil-
anus kill himself because of his noble descent, which includes Augustus as
his great-grandfather (quia super Iuniae familiae claritudinem divum Augustum
abavum ferebat, Ann. 15.35.1). Silanus’ accusers are ordered to give another
reason, namely that he was prodigal in his largess and that his only hope was

59 See also Ann. 14.11.2–3: no one believes Nero’s offical version of Agrippina’s death, given in
a letter that Seneca writes for him.
strategies of deconstruction in tacitus 113

revolution (iussi accusatores obicere prodigum largitionibus, neque aliam spem

quam in rebus novis esse, Ann. 15.35.2).60
The revelation of the ‘true’ reasons may characterize as absurd the rela-
tionship of an act and its reason or purpose. Panegyrical literature uses this
technique of a reason seemingly incompatible with the form of imperial rep-
resentation in order to praise the emperor: when the first Carmen Einsidlense
alludes to Nero’s Troica it claims that the fall of Troy was worthwhile because
otherwise Nero could not have sung of it: iam tanti cecidisse fuit! gaudete ruinae
/ et laudate rogos: vester vos tollit alumnus (“Now has it proved of such value to
have fallen! Rejoice, ruins, and praise your funeral pyres: it is your nursling that
raises you again!”, Carm. Einsidl. 1.40–41). In Tacitus, Nero’s political decisions
are sometimes described as motivated by reasons that should have nothing to
do with them. A certain action and a reason presented for it are incompatible
in a negative way. Thus Paris escapes punishment because Nero needs him for
his excesses (validiore apud libidines principis Paride, quam ut poena adficere-
tur, Ann. 13.22.2). Rotten crops are thrown into the Tiber to make people think
that the grain supply is safe and to divert them from worries about foreign polit-
ics (quin et dissimulandis rerum externarum curis, Ann. 15.18.2). Tiridates is only
a diversion from internal evil (ut ⟨versis⟩ ad externa rumoribus intestinum sce-
lus obscuraretur, Ann. 16.23.2). When Nero asks the senators for help after the
death of Britannicus he gives as reason that he has lost his brother’s help (sibi
amisso fratris auxilio, Ann. 13.17.3). True as this may be, the reason for his loss
is, as everyone in the narrative knows, that he himself killed Britannicus. It also
seems absurd that Nero wants to spare Seneca’s wife because he does not want
to appear too cruel (ne glisceret invidia crudelitatis, Ann. 15.64.1).61

60 This strategy of stating an allegedly real reason opposed to an official one is also common
in the Tiberius narrative. The real reason why Tiberius sends Germanicus to the East, for
example, is reputedly not the uprisings there. These are only a pretext (ea specie); the true
reason, or purpose, the narrator states, is to take Germanicus away from his accustomed
legions and to expose him to the treachery and vagaries of fortune in a new province (Ann.
2.5.1). Similarly, the dedication of a temple of Jupiter in Capua and a temple of Augustus
in Nola is only the pretext (specie dedicandi templa) for Tiberius’ move to Campania, so
the narrator (Ann. 4.57.1). The true reason was that he was determined to live far from the
city (sed certus procul urbe degere, Ann. 4.57.1). Tacitus here reflects on his investigation
into Tiberius’ reasons for leaving Rome (causam abscessus, Ann. 4.57.1) and he finds it not
only in Sejanus’ activities but also inherent in the personality Tiberius, who concealed
his cruelty and licentiousness, which were obvious from his deeds, at certain sites (Ann.
4.57.3). Tiberius’ character, not the circumstances perceptible from outside, provides the
true reason for his travels.
61 Cf. Ann. 15.73.1: Nero is tormented by the widespread rumour among the people that he
had put to death famous and innocent men out of jealousy or fear (etenim crebro vulgi
rumore lacerabatur, tamquam viros ⟨claros⟩ et insontes ob invidiam aut metum extinxisset).
114 chapter 4

(2) Such ‘true’ reasons, as opposed to the wrong, official reasons, are not
always given so explicitly by the narrator. The narrator does not always posi-
tion himself and his own opinion clearly. Instead, several reasons for imperial
behaviour may be presented as possible, and may be uttered by figures in the
narrative. We will come back to alternative versions and their effect on the
reader later.62 The most famous example is probably the so-called Totengericht
about Augustus at the beginning of book 1 (Ann. 1.9–10). Among the negat-
ive opinions the narrator reports about the first princeps is one that concerns
Augustus’ choice of Tiberius as successor. He did not choose him, according to
the people voicing criticism of Augustus, because he loved and cared for the
state, but because he had understood his arrogant and savage character and
was aiming to secure his own glory by the comparison with someone who was
extremely bad (Ann. 1.10.7). Even if this possible reason for Augustus’ act is not
explicitly assessed as true by the narrator, it deconstructs Augustus’ behaviour
and influences the reader’s view of him.
(3) Another strategy of deconstructing someone’s deeds is to give no reason
for them at all. Reasons provide context. Without the explanation of a reason
or motive, actions may appear isolated and senseless. It can thus be a very
effective form of critique not to base an action on a logical ground, or to state
explicitly that no reason was given for a certain imperial action. Under Tiberius,
women are arraigned because of the tears they shed (ob lacrimas incusabantur;
… quod filii necem flevisset, Ann. 6.10.1). This can hardly have been the whole
story.63 There is for example no mention of possible and common prohibitions
on mourning.64 Presented with such brevity, the reason seems harsh and inad-
equate. Tacitus does not give any practical reason for Nero’s canal project from
the lacus Avernus to Ostia, and even states that there was no satisfactory reason
and interprets Nero’s building a canal as a sign of his yearning for the incredible
(nec satis causae. Nero tamen, ut erat incredibilium concupitor, Ann. 15.42.2).65
In the case of Nero’s cancellation of the journey to Achaea this indication of the
lack of official reasons (causae in incerto fuere, Ann. 15.36.1) invites the reader
to search for them independently.

62 See p.133–147.
63 Koestermann 1965, 262, although unsure of the background of this episode regarding a
certain Vitia, the mother of Fufius Geminus, concludes: “Gewiß wurde sie [sc. Vitia] nicht
nur wegen ihrer Tränen getötet.”
64 Cf. Woodman 2017, 131.
65 Tacitus also dismisses the practical reasons for Claudius’ canal between the Fucine lake
and the river Liris (Ann. 12.56–57). However, the criticism on the canal is not connected
to the character of the emperor but to its manner of construction there (Ann. 12.57.1), and
the building project is also described positively (magnificentia operis, Ann. 12.56.1).
strategies of deconstruction in tacitus 115

3.3 Motivation and Character

3.3.1 Character in Tacitus
In the preceding analysis we have seen that the depiction of motivation is
closely linked to the creation or negation of plausibility. To construct or deny
plausibility for actions, the narrator draws on the device of characterization.
For the Tacitean narrator, who wants to understand the logic and causes of
history, not just the events themselves and their results, which are most often
governed by chance (ut non modo casus eventusque rerum, qui plerumque fortu-
iti sunt, sed ratio etiam causaeque noscantur, Hist. 1.4.1), understanding people’s
characters is important, since this may explain the reasons for and the devel-
opment of events.66 Character depiction in Tacitus owes its persuasiveness to
the coherence of the figures that the narrator creates, their motives, their beha-
viour, and the events depicted.67 The figures thus appear authentic,68 but their
authenticity is a construct of the narrative.69
Before we analyse characterization as a strategy of deconstruction, we
should try to understand Tacitus’ concept of character in general.70 The aspects
of the Tacitean concept of character will also provide a heuristic tool for finding
methods of deconstructing character in Tacitus’ texts. First, a Tacitean charac-
ter is formed by rational and irrational elements and their interplay.71 On the
one hand, it would be a gross simplification to say that character in Tacitus
is given at birth and does not change later.72 The idea of character develop-
ment is undoubtedly sometimes present.73 But, on the other hand, this notion
of development, prominent most of all in ancient philosophy, is not fully rep-
resented in early imperial historiography and biography.74 Secondly, Tacitus

66 Cf. Syme 1958, 521: “Like Sallust, Tacitus is not much concerned with the supernatural. The
mysteries that matter lie in the hearts and behaviour of men.”
67 Cf. Syme 1958, 419: “(…) the author of the Annales presents characters and arranges events
in undue coherence.”
68 I would not say that they are authentic, however (as Syme 1958, 535 does: “Julia Agrippina,
the mother of Nero, is wholly authentic”).
69 My focus is not on type-characterization in Tacitus. See Walker 1952, 204–234 on the types
of the tyrant, the opportunist/the informer, the victim, the collaborator, the noble savage,
the intransigent.
70 In this discussion of Tacitus’ concept of character I am mainly drawing on Gill 1983.
71 Cf. Vielberg 2000, 174–180 on the emotional and cognitive parts of Tacitean ingenium.
72 See Gill 1983, 469; 482.
73 For a depiction of character change see Ann. 6.32.4 (mutatus) on Vitellius, father of the
emperor Vitellius; for a depiction of behavioural change for the better see Ann. 13.46.3 on
Otho (sed integre sancteque egit).
74 See Gill 1983, 476. In philosophy, character development depends to a significant extent
116 chapter 4

considers character as something “relatively fixed”.75 An important part in char-

acter development is played, thirdly, by upbringing, and the influence of indi-
viduals and of society, especially in youth, which is conceived of as lubrica
aetas.76 The character of an adult is a product both of external influences and of
innate qualities.77 Yet, we should not confuse change in character with the tak-
ing up of different roles, an important part of Roman character, which is also
depicted in the texts. It is a typical Roman notion that throughout their lives
people wear masks, play roles.78 Agricola, for example, is said to know how
to distinguish between his official duties or work and his free time (tempora
curarum remissionumque divisa, Agr. 9.3): in his free time, he no longer wears
the mask of his official power (nulla ultra potestatis persona, Agr. 9.3).
A Tacitean character is presented as playing such roles and displaying good
and bad qualities. Tacitus is more interested in evaluating, i.e. praising and
blaming, a person’s moral qualities, an approach that Christopher Gill calls
“character-viewpoint”, than in understanding and explaining the person in an
ethically neutral way, which Gill calls “personality-viewpoint”.79 This interest
arises from the historian’s task, namely providing moral examples for the reader
(quod praecipuum munus annalium reor ne virtutes sileantur utque pravis dictis
factisque ex posteritate et infamia metus sit, Ann. 3.65.1; cf. Ann. 14.64.3; Hist.
1.3.1). For this sort of moral judgement, the examination of characters, includ-
ing the emperors’, is considered useful (Ann. 4.33.2).

on the person him- or herself, and the transition from childhood to adulthood is regarded
as a critical stage in this development, see Gill 1983, 470.
75 Gill 1983, 473. Cf. Gill 1983, 477: “a relatively static picture of a person’s character”. Cf. also
Döpp 1985, 166 in his analysis of Domitian’s character in Tacitus’ Agricola on “Tacitus’
Auffassung, daß der Charakter eines Menschen derselbe bleibt, mag sich auch sein Ver-
halten wandeln”.
76 See Gill 1983, 476.
77 See Gill 1983, 475, referring to Roman historians in general.
78 Vielberg 2000, 189 points to this Roman element in Tacitus’ concept of character and refers
to Suet. Aug. 99 (mimum vitae commode transegisse, “he had played his role well in the
comedy of life”), mentioned above, and to Lucr. 3.57–58 (nam verae voces tum demum
pectore ab imo / eliciuntur, et eripitur persona: manet res, “for only then are the words of
truth called forth deep from the heart, and the mask is torn off: the reality remains”).
79 In this passage I am drawing on Gill 1983, 471–473: Tacitus shares the character-viewpoint
with the historiography of the late Republic and early Roman Empire and with ancient
biography, whereas modern biography adapts a personality-viewpoint. However, with
regard to Tacitus, Gill’s distinction between the two concepts is exaggerated. Although
Tacitus’ main purpose is to evaluate moral qualities, he also wants to understand and
explain his characters (which Gill defines as typical of the ‘personality-view’), although
Tacitus admittedly does not do so in an ethically neutral way.
strategies of deconstruction in tacitus 117

The character that has received most attention in Tacitean scholarship is

that of Tiberius, who may help to exemplify the concept of character just out-
lined. In Tacitus, Tiberius’ character does not undergo change.80 The narrator
does not adopt the view expressed by Lucius Arruntius that Tiberius’ person-
ality was altered by power (cum Tiberius post tantam rerum experientiam vi
dominationis convulsus et mutatus sit, Ann. 6.48.2). He gives the overall impres-
sion that Tiberius concealed his true character until the removal of external
restraints allowed him to reveal it. Tiberius is depicted as deliberately bad (tri-
stiora malle, Ann. 4.31.2), which he conceals by his dissimulatio. The notion of
Lucius Arruntius and other passages such as the famous one in which Tiberius
is pictured as tormented by his guilt (adeo facinora atque flagitia sua ipsi quoque
in supplicium verterant, Ann. 6.6.1) in good Platonic tradition (Ann. 6.6.2),
show that Tacitus had access to several other psychological models. He did not
choose the concept of the unchanging but concealed character simply because
he was “incapable of conceiving the notion of change of character”.81 His pref-
erence was evidently rather to depict Tiberius’ character as consciously vicious.
Most of the time the reader herself is supposed to construct the figures’ char-
acters from the depiction of their behaviour, utterances, deeds, and thoughts in
the text, or from their first appearance in the text.82 Although indirect charac-
terization predominates, direct characterization is effectively applied by the
narrator too.
The narrator does not have to give the source of his interpretation: he just
knows. Interpreting a speech of Tiberius (Ann. 1.52.2), the narrator presents
an analysis—without further explaining his view—which states that Tiberius’
words were merely vain expressions that sounded good but were not truly
meant. Domitian’s preference for solitude (secreto suo satiatus) is interpreted
by the narrator as a sign of savage thinking (Agr. 39.3).
Direct characterization in the form of a more universal character portrait is
often given at crucial points in the narrative. The famous obituary of Tiberius
concludes the first hexad (Ann. 6.51). Domitian is characterized at the begin-
ning of the first meeting of the senate after the Flavian victory in the Histories:
power in the city lies with Mucianus, but Domitian, as praetor, dares a lot
because his friends incite him or because of his own wantonness (nisi quod pler-
aque Domitianus instigantibus amicis aut propria libidine audebat, Hist. 4.39.2).

80 Cf. Gill 1983, 482–486.

81 Gill 1983, 482 referring to this incorrect consumption about Tacitus and other ancient
writers.
82 For the characterization of a figure, the moment of entering the stage is important, see
e.g. Syme 1958, 308 on Thrasea Paetus.
118 chapter 4

A more general characteristic of his is given at the very end of book 4, the
first book dealing with Flavian rule (Hist. 4.86.2): Domitian realizes that he is
disdained for his youth by the older people, and he hence gives up even the lim-
ited functions in government he has hitherto performed. He hides his thoughts
from scrutiny beneath an ingenuous and unassuming appearance, pretends an
interest in literature and a love of poems (studiumque litterarum et amorem car-
minum simulans, Hist. 4.86.2). By this the Tacitean Domitian hides his true self
and withdraws from the rivalry with his brother, whose dissimilar and milder
character he does not understand at all (Hist. 4.86.2).
Furthermore, we can see how the narrator both establishes these Tacitean
character elements—the irrational side of character, the possible influence of
the surroundings, the unchanging parts of character—and how he uses them
to create a negative image. To start with the irrational side of character: the
depiction of destructive emotions as the reason for the emperor’s behaviour
predominates. We have already seen Nero’s immoderate emotions of joy and
sadness.83 The deconstruction of imperial emotions is also applied to Domi-
tian. He is characterized as prone to anger by nature (Domitiani vero natura
praeceps in iram, Agr. 42.3). The more he conceals it, we learn, the more implac-
able he is (et quo obscurior, eo inrevocabilior, Agr. 42.3). His driving motive
against Agricola (Agr. 42.3) and against his father and brother is hatred, com-
bined with envy and jealousy.
Since the Tacitean character-concept partly allows for development, the
influence and interplay of the emperor and his surroundings can be decon-
structed in the text.84 Regarding Nero, his educators Seneca and Burrus are
evaluated according to the influence they exert upon the young emperor, at first
in a positive and successful way (Ann. 13.2.1–2; 13.6.3; 13.21.1). Nero is then still
at the age considered important for character development by certain philo-
sophical theories.85 But in the long term Seneca’s and Burrus’ measures are
obviously not successful.86 Their policy of appeasement, which was meant to

83 Cf. p.96.
84 Tiberius’ behavior worsens under the influence of Sejanus, who augments Tiberius’ hatred
for Germanicus (Ann. 1.69.5). Agrippina has a similar influence on Claudius, who gives in
to his cruel disposition (Ann. 12.59.1). In these situations, which present the influence (and
development) of character, the critique is not confined to the emperor. Those who influ-
ence the emperor’s behaviour are analysed by the narrator too.
85 See above and Gill 1983, 476. Cf. Ann. 14.56.1: When Nero strategically refers to Seneca’s
positive influence on him (quin, si qua in parte lubricum adulescentiae nostrae declinat,
revocas ornatumque robur subsidio impensius regis?), he also refers to youth as a lubricious
age. For this Neronian speech see p.78–79.
86 Their role and involvement in Nero’s matricide is not clear in Tacitus (Ann. 14.7.2), but
strategies of deconstruction in tacitus 119

allow Nero certain transgressions in order to prevent him from others,87 has
no positive influence (e.g. cum Senecae ac Burro visum, ne utraque pervinceret,
alterum concedere, Ann. 14.14.2; maerens Burrus ac laudans, Ann. 14.15.4). Bur-
rus’ death (Ann. 14.51)88 also breaks Seneca’s power (Ann. 14.52.1).

3.3.2 (Dis-)Simulatio
In his definition of the character-viewpoint of a Roman historian, Gill points
out that the focus on passing moral judgement upon a figure’s character does
indeed “predispose a historian or biographer to present character as something
relatively fixed”.89 If we think of character as rather unchanging, we also have
to take into account the concept of (dis-)simulatio. There is a certain logical
connection between the wish or need to change one’s character and the ability
to conceal certain character traits: if someone is able to conceal his negative
character there is less need for moral development. Some of Tacitus’ emper-
ors make extensive use of techniques of simulatio, and the historian presents
it as his task to analyse these processes of simulatio.90 Right at the beginning
Augustus’ behaviour is analysed as simulatio: his grandsons are to be styled
‘Princes of the Youth’ and nominated as consuls, although they are still only
boys; Augustus is said to have craved this, but to have pretended to refuse it
(specie recusantis, Ann. 1.3.2). Especially the depiction of Augustus’ successor
Tiberius has been analysed in terms of the disguise which he is said to adopt
throughout.91 His successor and nephew Caligula is also depicted as capable
of concealing his cruel character (immanem animum subdola modestia tegens,
Ann. 6.20.1). Claudius does not make use of simulatio; Nero does so only at the
beginning of his reign.92 He seems aware of the inappropriateness of his rep-
resentations as artist, but does not conceal them. Rather, his strategy is to legit-
imize them (Ann. 14.14.1; 14.15.1). After him, Vespasian and Titus do not adopt

Tacitus’ Nero draws on them for help (Ann. 14.7.2; 14.10.2; 14.11.3) during and after the
murder.
87 See e.g. Ann. 13.2.1; 14.14.2.
88 On the question whether Tacitus’ Nero is responsible for Burrus’ death see p.140.
89 Gill 1983, 473. This is to be explained by interest in the adult character, “the character of
the developed moral agent” (Gill 1983, 477).
90 This regards both behaviour and events depicted. Cf. O’Gorman 2000, 2–3 on the standard
claim of the sceptical historiographer: “Central to sceptical history, therefore, and central
to Tacitus is the practice of analysing events by representing an appearance as false and
unearthing something claimed to be truth, which is sometimes at odds with the appear-
ance”.
91 See e.g. Ann. 1.11.2 and Ann. 1.52.2 about his words and speeches; Ann. 2.28.2 about con-
cealing his emotions; Schulz 2015, 169–173 with further references.
92 Cf. the overview on emperors and simulatio in Vielberg 2000, 185.
120 chapter 4

the technique of simulation. But Domitian then figures as a master of simulatio.

Ascribing methods of simulation to his behaviour can even be regarded as the
main strategy of deconstructing his character in Tacitus.93 In the Agricola, too,
Domitian’s character does not change, but his reign develops and deteriorates
steadily towards the end (Agr. 44.5–45.1).
We can distinguish two different aspects of simulatio in the depiction of
Domitian. The first deconstructs his behaviour by claiming that his actions and
words as they appear on the surface are not in accord with what he really thinks
and wants. In the Agricola, Domitian is described as “prepared for simulation”
(paratus simulationi94, Agr. 42.2). He is able not only to hide his thoughts and to
act in a way that deviates from his opinion, but also to control his feelings, even
strong emotions. They are not perceptible from the outside, from his appear-
ance, demeanour, or words. After Agricola’s success in Britain, for example, he
seems happy (laetus), to judge from his expression ( fronte), but inside (pectore)
he is uneasy (anxius) (Agr. 39.1). This uneasiness obviously stems from the fear
and hatred Tacitus’ Domitian is said to feel for his military commander. When
he finds himself tormented by the anxieties caused by Agricola’s military suc-
cess, he decides, in a rational act, that it would be best to store up his hatred,
an extremely strong emotion, for the present (optimum in praesentia statuit
reponere odium, Agr. 39.3). When Agricola is about to die, Domitian displays
an appearance of pain in his expression (Agr. 43.3). He is now indifferent to his
hatred for Agricola (which had caused him fear), and he can dissimulate the joy
he feels more easily than the fear (securus iam odii et qui facilius dissimularet
gaudium quam metum, Agr. 43.4).
A special role in this process of simulatio is attributed to Domitian’s ruddy
complexion. Since blushing is usually an indicator of shame or embarrassment,
turning red-faced can help the analysis of a person’s feelings. But Domitian’s
naturally ruddy complexion made it impossible for him to blush (cf. the ironic
nec erubuit in Agr. 42.295), which means that one could not see if he was
ashamed of something (quo se contra pudorem muniebat, Agr. 45.2).96 It thus
supports his strategy of simulatio. What is more, it even gains the young Domi-
tian favour, as we learn from his depiction in the first meeting of the senate
shortly after the Flavian victory (Hist. 4.40.1): Domitian speaks well (de absen-

93 Cf. Walker 1952, 47.

94 On the dative simulationi see Woodman 2014, 299–300.
95 Cf. Woodman 2014, 300: “Domitian’s naturally ruddy complexion (…) meant that he could
not be seen blushing at even his most outrageous actions”.
96 For his complexion cf. Plin. Pan. 48.4 (in ore impudentia multo rubore suffusa); Suet. Dom.
18.1 (vultu modesto ruborisque pleno).
strategies of deconstruction in tacitus 121

tia patris fratrisque ac iuventa sua pauca et modica disseruit, decorus habitu),
but his red complexion is misinterpreted to his advantage: those who did not
yet know his character interpret his complexion as a sign of modesty (et ignotis
adhuc moribus crebra oris confusio pro modestia accipiebatur, Hist. 4.40.1).
The second aspect of Domitian’s simulatio concerns pretence: his staging of
events and performances. As we have seen above, they are deconstructed by
claiming that they were fake. This reproach pertains mainly to his triumphs.
The critical texts differ as to which triumph was the fake one.97 Their focus is
less on establishing the historical ‘truth’ than on making an effective reproach
of simulatio. In Tacitus’ version in the Agricola, probably concerning the tri-
umph against the German tribes in 83CE, Domitian is presented as himself
knowing (inerat conscientia) the difference between Agricola’s true success
(veram magnamque victoriam) and his own fake triumph, which was the source
of ridicule (derisui fuisse nuper falsum e Germania triumphum) (Agr. 39.1). A less
official performance, a hunt, is deconstructed by the same technique in Pliny’s
Panegyricus. There the reproach is that tame animals were released from cages
so that Domitian could pretend to hunt them: mentita sagacitate colligerent
(Plin. Pan. 81.3). Such a false use of imperial rituals can be explained by the wish
of the emperor to fulfil his role and its expectations.98 Domitian is presented
as someone who wants, but is not able to satisfy the demands of the imperial
role. Unlike Tacitus’ Nero, who interprets this role in his own distinctive way,
Domitian follows the more ‘conservative’ interpretation of his duties. He is not
depicted as stepping out of the role, but as fulfilling it merely on the surface.

3.3.3 Focalization
An important narrative strategy that makes the distinction of a surface level
and a level of true thoughts and feelings persuasive is focalization: the decon-
struction of the figures’ behaviour, deeds, and character can be supported
by the presentation of events and thoughts from the point of view either of
another figure in the narrative or of the main figure him- or herself.99 The view-
point provided by another figure is chosen as effective and suitable for the

97 See p.61–62.
98 This is also true of Pliny’s Domitian and the role of the consul: he wants to be consul, but
does not behave like one; see Plin. Pan. 59.2 implicitly referring to Domitian: tantum velle
consules fieri ut fuerint.
99 For scenes in which Tacitus achieves a certain effect on the reader from an event by
describing its effect on figures in the narrative, see Billerbeck 1991, 2755–2759. Cf. Held-
mann 2013, 347 on focalization as a general difference between ancient and modern his-
toriography.
122 chapter 4

depiction of another character.100 Domitian is seen and characterized in the

Histories from the point of view of Vespasian and of Mucianus. When Vespasian
is in Alexandria in 69CE after his victory he receives unfavourable news about
his son, who has breached the boundaries of his age and the privileges of a son
(tamquam terminos aetatis et concessa filio egrederetur, Hist. 4.51.2). Vespasian
is not appeased by him (haud … Domitiano mitigatus, Hist. 4.52.2). As regards
Tacitus’ Mucianus, he and others in charge of the city are afraid of Domitian’s
untamed wantonness (et Domitiani indomitae libidines timebantur, Hist. 4.68.1).
Mucianus’ interpretation of Domitian’s character, as depicted in the text, is as
an ardent person who has to be held back (moras nectens, quis flagrantem reti-
neret, Hist. 4.68.3).
As well as individual people, a collective such as Rome or the people can
provide their view of someone’s character too. We are told that after Augustus’
death a great majority of the people discussed Augustus’ possible successors
in various common conversations. Tacitus reports their opinion of Tiberius,
which includes a characterization of him: he has the old and ingrained arrog-
ance (superbia) of the Claudian family, and many signs of his cruelty break
through, although he tries to suppress them (multaque indicia saevitiae, quam-
quam premantur, erumpere) (Ann. 1.4.3). The people’s opinion of Tiberius is also
expressed when Germanicus falls ill shortly before his death: people assume
a plot against Germanicus organized by Tiberius, Livia, and Piso (Ann. 2.82).
Later it is even presented as common knowledge that Tiberius had badly con-
cealed his joy over Germanicus’ death (gnaris omnibus laetam Tiberio German-
ici mortem male dissimulari, Ann. 3.2.3). Claiming that such a large group of
people shares a view makes it appear more forceful and plausible in the text.

100 Thus the characterizations of Germanicus as ideal military leader and of Tiberius as
debauched tyrant are appropriately underlined when we learn that Artabanus, king of
the Parthians, feels fear of Germanicus, but contempt for Tiberius (metu Germanici … et
senectutem Tiberii ut inermem despiciens, Ann. 6.31.1). Germanicus himself also functions
as a focalizer of Tiberius. Seeing the tyrant through the lens of the ideal successor intens-
ifies the picture of both characters. The claim that Livia and Tiberius hate Germanicus is
made more plausible when Germanicus himself is depicted as afraid of them because of
their hidden hatred: anxius occultis in se patrui aviaeque odiis (Ann. 1.33.1). When Tacitus’
Germanicus is not granted another year in Germany by Tiberius, Tiberius’ decision is
deconstructed by the same device of embedded focalization. The narrator presents this
decision through the eyes of his protagonist Germanicus: Tacitus’ Germanicus realizes
that Tiberius’ reasons were simulated and motivated by his jealousy of Germanicus’ own
fame (quamquam fingi ea seque per invidiam parto iam decori abstrahi intellegeret, Ann.
2.26.5). The reader is invited to follow the analysis of Germanicus and consider Tiberius’
action through the viewpoint of the person whom the text has established as the next
great hope.
strategies of deconstruction in tacitus 123

The focalizer of the emperor’s bad character may also be the emperor him-
self. Tiberius is presented as being well aware of his behaviour and as ashamed
of his crimes and desires (pudore scelerum et libidinum, Ann. 6.1.1).101 In the pas-
sage in the Agricola mentioned above, in which Domitian is shown as being
aware of the difference between Agricola’s true success and his own fake vic-
tory, this contrast is mentioned by the narrator not as a fact but as the inner
thoughts of Domitian.102 The shifts from the perspective of the narrator and the
presentation of Domitian’s inner thoughts can be quick and unclear, blurring
the boundaries between the two levels. For example, as mentioned in the pre-
vious section, it is presented as Domitian’s own decision to store up his hatred
against Agricola until the effect of glory and the favour of the army would fade
(optimum in praesentia statuit reponere odium, donec impetus famae et favor
exercitus languesceret, Agr. 39.3). The following explicative nam-clause gives
the reason for Domitian’s thoughts, presented by the narrator in the indicative
(nam etiam tum Agricola Britanniam obtinebat, Agr. 39.3): Agricola still held
Britain—and, so we have to supply, could have planned to become emperor.
Domitian’s thoughts, his embedded focalization, and the narrator’s explan-
ations are thus intertwined. The authorial statement of the narrator, which
provides the reason for Domitian’s decision, makes this decision appear more
plausible.

4 New Forms of Logic

4.1 Overview: Constructions of Temporal and Social Logic

Besides the connection between event and reason, other logical relations, too,
can be shown as damaged, unnatural, or dysfunctional. Just like causal logic,
temporal and social logic—or the lack of both—may be used in the texts to
deconstruct an emperor’s actions. Regarding the logic of time (p.124–127) we
can distinguish two quite different forms of deconstruction on two different
narrative levels. First, the emperor can be shown as not accepting or behav-
ing according to the logic of time: he may be depicted negatively as someone
who does not care about the temporal order of events. Second, the narrator

101 Similarly, Agrippina’s crimes are made more plausible by presenting them through her
own focalization (Ann. 13.14).
102 Cf. also the analysis of this passage in Döpp 1985, 157: “Die Antithese von Scheinsieg und
wirklichem Sieg wird also ins Bewußtsein der Hauptfigur verlegt und erhält damit beson-
dere Suggestivkraft”.
124 chapter 4

can construct a temporal logic for the narrative that underlines or creates a
negative picture of the emperor. Social logic—in a broad sense—can be pic-
tured as being destroyed by the emperor in two forms too (p.127–129). The
emperor’s deeds, especially the ritual performances expected in his imperial
role, often appear in the narrative as vain and senseless. The emperor is then
reproached for fulfilling only the form of a performance without satisfying the
actual demands and content of the ritual. Or else the emperor’s behaviour and
his way of dealing with his social surroundings are depicted as resulting in a
perversion of norms, virtues, and social logic.

4.2 Temporal Logic: The Manipulation of Chronological Order

Tacitus’ Nero often defies time and takes actions in the wrong chronological
order. His behaviour then illustrates how he is not bound by the correct se-
quence of events. This pertains mostly to his murders and death sentences.
The Tacitean Nero accuses victims and allows them to choose their manner of
death only after they are dead (Ann. 16.11.3). The logical chronological sequence
of ‘accusation—choice of death—death’ is turned into the illogical sequence
‘death—accusation—choice of death’. Tacitus explicitly terms this “mocker-
ies”: ea caedibus peractis ludibria adiciebantur (Ann. 16.11.3). People also learn
that they have been accused only once they have been convicted (reos fuisse se
tantum poena experti, Ann. 15.71.5).103 In another, typical (ex more) case, Nero
highlights his clemency and his potentially mild behaviour after someone’s
death (si clementiam iudicis exspectasset) (Ann. 15.35.3). The virtue of clementia,
for which the historical Nero is in a protreptic way praised in the De clementia,
has become only a hypothetical one. Tacitus’ Nero seems to be aware that the
instrument of mildness is available to him, but he does not use it as Seneca in
his treatise would have wanted the historical Nero to do. The virtue associated
with the imperial representation of the historical emperor is thus deconstruc-
ted in the historiographical discourse.
The second, very different form of new temporal construction is based on
the narrator constructing time. Tacitean emperors are not only depicted as
defying the logic of time themselves: they are also part of the narrator’s con-
structions of time. This narrative order of time can be conceived as a manip-
ulation of a sequence of (historical) time. Ronald Syme remarks that “exact
chronology was often impracticable—and often superfluous”.104 We can go fur-
ther and say that exact chronology can be a hindrance to a persuasive critical

103 By contrast, Tacitus’ Thrasea Paetus underlines the order of culpa and poena (Ann. 14.20.3).
104 Syme 1958, 390.
strategies of deconstruction in tacitus 125

depiction. With the devices described next, the Annals turn out to belie the
alleged inartistic shapelessness of Roman Annals and other year-by-year chron-
icles.105
How an effective narrative sequence supports the construction of a bad
image of an emperor can be illustrated by the passage about the events leading
to the Great Fire of Rome in 64CE (Ann. 15.37.1–4). Tacitus’ Nero has just can-
celled his journey to Greece (Ann. 15.36). The first element in this passage is the
banquet of Tigellinus (Ann. 15.37.1–3).106 We do not know and are not given a
date for the city orgy organized by Nero’s prefect, but it is connected to Nero’s
staying in Rome. Nero wanted to give credence to the idea that nowhere else
gave him as much pleasure as Rome (Ann. 15.37.1). By this logical link, the nar-
rator makes it plausible that the city orgy happened after the cancellation of the
journey. The following marriage with Pythagoras, the second element in this
narrative, is linked to the banquet by stating that Pythagoras had been present
as one of this crowd of defiled people (Ann. 15.37.4). Moreover, it is depicted
as the last remaining transgression open to Nero, as I have hinted above: the
text shows Nero crossing every moral boundary, and does so in three stages.
First, he disgraces himself by things that are allowed and by things that are not
allowed (per licita atque inlicita foedatus), so that there is no shameful act left
by which he could behave even more immorally (quo corruptior ageret) (Ann.
15.37.4). The grammar, with Nero himself as subject of the sentence, shows his
full agency in this disgrace. But the text has established this new boundary
only to make Nero break it again. The act by which he crosses this last bound-
ary is, secondly, his marriage as a woman to Pythagoras, which is said to have
happened a few days later: nisi paucos post dies uni ex illo contaminatorum grege
(nomen Pythagorae fuit) in modum solemnium coniugiorum denupsisset (Ann.
15.37.4).107 For a reader who wonders what may now be left for the debauched
Nero to do, the climactic answer is the Great Fire of Rome, as the third element
of transgression, following just after the banquet and the marriage in the nar-
rative (Ann. 15.38–45).
Unlike the journey to Greece and the banquet of Tigellinus and unlike the
banquet and the marriage to Pythagoras, the fire is not directly connected logic-
ally to these events. The connection is just a temporal one: sequitur clades
(Ann. 15.38.1). But the reader trained to establish logical, causal connections

105 For this alleged lack of artistry see Dial. 22.5 (nulli sensus tarda et inerti structura in morem
annalium componantur) and Cic. De Or. 2.51–53.
106 Cf. my close reading of this passage on p.71–72.
107 See p.103–104.
126 chapter 4

between the events may also see a causal connection here.108 After the ban-
quet, as we have heard, there was no misdeed left for Nero to do, except to
marry Pythagoras. The orgy-transgression is itself transgressed. At this peak of
transgression of Roman virile morals and virtues Tacitus has the Great Fire of
64 CE follow these two episodes. The logic of the text as outlined thus seems
to present the fire as the transgression of the transgression (marriage with
Pythagoras) of the transgression (the banquet of Tigellinus).
The narrator’s presentation of time can also have effect through the rhythm
or pace chosen.109 Siegmar Döpp has analysed the temporal structure and pace
of the final passages of the Agricola.110 The section of Agr. 39–43 in fact depicts
the period from 84–93CE. That the text deals with a time period of almost
ten years is concealed by the accelerated presentation of the events. The three
different events of this passage—Agricola’s return to Rome from Britain; Agri-
cola’s forced renunciation of the proconsulship; Agricola’s illness and death—
were separated by six and three years respectively. In Tacitus, they seem to have
happened one directly after the other, and this chronological closeness implies
a causal connection too.
We can set these manipulative techniques—creating logical links through
temporal links, and changing the pace of historical events—in the broader con-
text of the narrator and his presentation of time. He makes use of the devices
of prolepsis (foreshadowing) and analepsis (flashback) to guide the reader.111 In
these cases, the chronology is not directly manipulated by lack of time specific-
ation or by constructing temporal and causal connections where none exist,
but the order still has a certain effect on the reader. When we look, for example,
at the depiction of the events following Agrippina’s death, the narrator says
that Agrippina was cremated in a paltry funeral (exequiis vilibus, Ann. 14.9.1) the
night after she died. The narrative then shifts into the future to the end of Nero’s
reign. Until then, we learn, the burial ground was not heaped up in a grave-
mound or closed over (by a gravestone): neque, dum Nero rerum potiebatur,

108 Cf. Syme 1958, 310, who also sees a logical connection between the two ‘spectacles’ of Tigel-
linus’ banquet and the Great Fire of Rome: “Tigellinus organizes a water festival for Nero,
with all the apparatus of luxury and debauch: another spectacle follows abruptly, the
conflagration of the city.” See also Allen 1962, 103: “he intends causality instead of mere
temporal sequence”. Likewise, we have already seen (p.109–110) that the official reason
for Octavia’s banishment is directly followed by a new action, namely that Nero marries
Poppaea, and that, while the connection is only a temporal one (Ann. 14.60.1), the direct
juxtaposition implies a logical link too.
109 This technique is not exclusive to Tacitus, see e.g. Classen 1983 on Caesar.
110 See Döpp 1985, 153–154.
111 See Hausmann 2012, 144–145.
strategies of deconstruction in tacitus 127

congesta aut clausa humus (Ann. 14.9.1). Only later did Agrippina receive a mod-
est tomb through the devotion of her servants (Ann. 14.9.1). The narrative now
shifts back to the night after her death and reports that one of her freedman,
Mnester, killed himself with a sword and ran through the burning pyre (Ann.
14.9.2). Again, the narrative shifts, this time into the past. The narrator tells us
that Agrippina had long been expecting this end to her life (Ann. 14.9.3). The
Chaldeans had once prophesied that Nero would kill her and she had replied
that he may kill her as long as he also came to power (Ann. 14.9.3). By shifting
from the present to the future to the present to the past, and then again to the
present (Ann. 14.10.1) the narrator comes full circle and presents a time struc-
ture that rounds off Agrippina’s life and death. This treatment of time is not
directly connected to the characterization of Nero, but it argues for the author-
ity of the narrator in his knowledge and design of time in the narrative.

4.3 Social Logic: Empty or Perverted Norms

By ‘social logic’ I mean the relation of an action to its approval or disapproval
according to the normative or moral value that it is ascribed in society. The
social logic is working well if a society praises deeds that are in accord with its
norms and criticizes deeds that are against them. Certain actions are rewarded,
for example by public honours, when they are in accord with society’s norms.
One technique of deconstructing imperial representation is to show that this
logic of action and reward is not fulfilled by the emperor. Honours and symbols
of appreciation and praise are found to be empty. The external form pretends
a praiseworthy action where in fact there is no content to be applauded, no
fundamentum in re.
Domitian’s triumphs as analysed above are deconstructed in this way. He
triumphed only in form, not in content. Nero’s honours, by contrast, are based
on real victories, but he is depicted as completely uninvolved in them.112 The
text ascribes the military success to Nero’s generals, especially Corbulo. Or it
shows that the triumphal arch after the victory over the Parthians had been
decreed before the war was even over, and was erected without acknowledge-
ment of the truth (spreta conscientia, Ann. 15.18.1). The logic of military merit
and reward is thus disturbed. Symbolic buildings and performances celebrating
military achievements have lost their foundation in reality. This is a reproach
not only to the doings of the emperor, but also to the senators and people.113

112 See p.57–60.

113 See p.100 on Ann. 13.8.1 (the senate praising Nero’s success in Armenia) and p.78 on Ann.
13.11.2 (Seneca writing Nero’s speeches to display his own talent).
128 chapter 4

Thank offerings after the deaths of Agrippina (Ann. 14.12.1), Sulla and Plautus
(Ann. 14.59.4), and Octavia (Ann. 14.64.3), as we have seen,114 are directly and
indirectly characterized as mere show (quaeque rerum secundarum olim, tum
publicae cladis insignia fuisse, Ann. 14.64.3).
The same is true of the depiction of Nero’s artistic contests, in which his hon-
ours do not equal his achievement. Tacitus’ Nero is simply pronounced winner
of the prize for oratory at the Neronia in 60 CE: eloquentiae primas nemo tulit,
sed victorem esse Caesarem pronuntiatum (Ann. 14.21.4). His imperial represent-
ation as artist is deconstructed not only by showing that it does not suit the role
of emperor, but also by claiming that Nero’s achievements, at least regarding
his own poetry, were of poor quality (Ann. 14.16.1). This doubles the criticism of
these forms of imperial representation: even if they were of good quality for an
artist, they would be disgusting for an emperor, but that they are also criticized
for their quality makes them even worse.
Tacitus’ Nero prefers form over content on other occasions too. He believes
what he wants to believe and what is advanced in a persuasive manner. Unlike
Burrus, for example, he accepts Julia Silana’s reproaches against Agrippina
before inquiring into the truth (Ann. 13.20). He also believes the lie against Cor-
nelius Sulla (Ann. 13.47). Content is also less important for him than form when
it comes to homage. Nero expects Thrasea, who is accused of not numbering
Nero’s voice and Poppaea among the goddesses, to say things that increase his
glory (Ann. 16.24.2), but whether Thrasea really believes what he says seems
less relevant than the fact that he says it. When Nero removes the cohort that is
usually stationed to watch over the games, he is said to do so because he wants
to give a greater impression of freedom (maior species libertatis, Ann. 13.24.1).
External appearance and form again beat content.
The second way of breaking social logic is based on a perversion of norms
depicted in the texts. Emperors who are criticized for their behaviour and
actions are mostly described as acting on the basis of new norms. What they do
appears not to be in accord with the virtues established in Roman society. This
perversion of norms shown in the text can be analysed through single actions
of the emperor, as has already been illustrated by the analyses in the previous
sections. In addition, some passages create the image of a more general per-
version of social norms by the emperor by highlighting his self-image: Nero’s
interpretation of imperial power, for example, is, so Tacitus, to kill people of
high rank (ut magnitudinem imperatoriam caede insignium virorum quasi regio
facinore ostentaret, Ann. 16.23.2). Domitian is characterized as hostile to vir-

114 Cf. p.101.

strategies of deconstruction in tacitus 129

tues (infensus virtutibus princeps, Agr. 41.1) and as generally inclined towards
inferior things115 (pronum deterioribus principem, Agr. 41.4).
The neglect of virtues hitherto accepted by society and the introduction of
new norms has effects on the behaviour of others.116 When Tacitus’ Tiberius
after the death of Agrippina the Elder congratulates himself that she had at
least not been strangled and thrown down the Gemonian Steps (Ann. 6.25.3)
the reader must regard this as very low bar for virtue. However, the emperor
is given official thanks for this (Ann. 6.25.3). The public is not only depicted as
reacting according to the low or perverted virtues of the emperor, but also as
exhibiting equally bad behaviour itself. Under Tiberius, we hear, Fulcinius Trio,
an accuser, also promotes a harmful self-image: he was thirsting for an evil repu-
tation (celebre inter accusatores Trionis ingenium erat avidumque famae malae,
Ann. 2.28.3). While people following the new, perverted norms are thus criti-
cized, those living according to the narrator’s ideals meet negative responses
in the text. Bad behaviour is described as having no consequences or as more
successful than good behaviour: murders do not have to be concealed any-
more (Ann. 13.1.2); a repulsive figure like Vatinius makes his way by denigrating
the honest (Ann. 15.34.2). Telling the truth can be just as dangerous as saying
something false (Ann. 1.6.3). Under the Tacitean Nero, Barea Soranus increases
the emperor’s resentment by his fairness and industry (offensiones principis
auxit iustitia atque industria, Ann. 16.23.1). Nero’s Augustiani act as though they
were famous and honourable through virtue (quasi per virtutem clari honor-
atique agere, Ann. 14.15.5). People who do not want to acknowledge the virtues
of the emperor are forced to do so, as are descendants of noble families, whom
Nero parades on stage because their poverty leaves them no other choice (Ann.
14.14.3).117

115 Or to inferior people, cf. Woodman 2014, 297.

116 In this sense, Juvenal points out that the emperor determines the structures of his society,
cf. Iuv. 8.198–199: res haut mira tamen citharoedo principe mimus / nobilis. See also Sen.
Clem. 1.13: the tyrant turns his subjects into executioners and murderers.
117 See p.74–75 for Tacitus not mentioning the aristocratic interest in performances.
 chapter 5

Creating Uncertainty

1 Tacitus and Theories of Uncertainty

Although, as we have seen in the preceding chapters, Tacitus does deconstruct

positive images of imperial representation by several means, his text is accom-
panied by an uncertainty about his deconstruction and about interpretation.1
This final chapter on Tacitus deals with the potential effect of his text on the
reader, assuming, with cognitive-dissonance theory, that readers (and people
in general) psychologically prefer certainty over uncertainty, non-ambiguity
over ambiguity, being convinced of something over an uncertain dynamic of
communication.2 With its focus on the dialogue between text and reader, this
chapter stands in the tradition of reader-response analyses: its readings value a
certain openness and ambiguity as a quality of a literary text; reading the text is
conceived as a process in which the reader forms and tests hypotheses, in which
her expectations are confirmed or contradicted, in which her strategies of inter-
pretation are open to testing. However, the chapter is mainly inspired by theor-
ies dealing with textual uncertainty, and will argue that Tacitean deconstruc-
tion of imperial representation takes place in a text that, to a certain degree,
challenges its own methods of interpretation and deconstruction.3 This uncer-
tainty, I suggest, can be better understood and explained by drawing on studies
and theories of inconsistency, closure, and disconcertion. We will focus on Nero
and Domitian, but include other text passages, in particular on Tiberius, too, to
illustrate how the feature of uncertainty pervades Tacitus’ whole work.

1 We have already analysed the atmosphere in the Annals as being opposed to panegyrical
Golden Age concepts, namely as full of change, and therefore characterized by instability
and uncertainty (p.92–93). For disconcerting effects see e.g. p.95 on Ann. 15.43.5.
2 Cf. Knape 2015, 12–13: “Nach Leon Festingers 1957 formulierter und inzwischen empirisch gut
abgesicherter cognitive dissonance-Theorie brauchen die Menschen normalerweise diesen
Zustand des überwiegenden Überzeugt-Seins, um sich wohl zu fühlen (Homöostase). (…)
Demnach versuchen wir unter standardkommunikativen Bedingungen immer wieder, im
Verstehensprozess die ‚uncertain dynamic‘ jeglicher Kommunikation in Richtung Eindeutig-
keit zu reparieren.”
3 In doing so, my analysis in part comes closer to deconstruction in the traditional sense (cf.
p.43–44), since I am dealing with the destabilizing effect of binary oppositions and inconsist-
encies on the text. However, I still regard this as a strategy of the text, not as proof that it is
unreadable.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004407558_008

creating uncertainty 131

Modern studies of inconsistency have focused on “the possibility of inter-

preting, rather than removing or explaining away, inconsistencies in ancient
texts”.4 They are closely related to studies of polyphony, which likewise chal-
lenge the idea that to be good a literary work must be a “single-voiced, unified
work”.5 They ask how the reader or critic should react to contradictions in a
work and to different types of inconsistencies, such as “factual inconsistencies”,
or “inconsistencies of theme, philosophy, and political attitudes”.6 Such incon-
sistencies are accepted as an integral part of a work, which is “deliberately or at
least functionally inconsistent”.7 Inconsistencies are therefore interpreted and
read as potentially “being used with some skill to make certain suggestions”.8
They have been read as a typical feature of poetic discourse as opposed to philo-
sophical discourse.9 And theories of inconsistency have been applied more to
poetry, especially epic, than to prose.10 But in principle they aim to “help to
establish a framework for understanding the poetic or rhetorical use of incon-
sistencies in any ancient author”.11 For this reason the results of these studies
should also be taken seriously for Tacitus, who has often been condemned
“on the evidence of his own inconsistencies and his glaring disregard, in his
general interpretations, of the factual account presented in his own work”.12
I will focus on forms of inconsistency specific to Tacitus that also pertain to
how he depicts imperial representation, such as the presentation of alternative
versions of events and unstable patterns of interpretation, and their function
within his work.
Studies of closure analyse, among other things, the “process by which the
reader of a work comes to see the end as satisfyingly final”, and the “degree to
which the questions posed in the work are answered, tensions released, con-
flicts resolved”.13 ‘Closure’ may refer to “the concluding section of a literary

4 O’Hara 2007, 1.
5 O’Hara 2007, 6.
6 O’Hara 2007, 3. Cf. O’Hara 2007, 5.
7 O’Hara 2007, 134.
8 O’Hara 2007, 5.
9 O’Hara 2007, 19.
10 For Roman epic, some degree of inconsistency is accepted as the norm: “Roman epic reg-
ularly features conflicting passages, voices, versions, chronologies, sympathies, ideas, and
themes” (O’Hara 2007, 142). Epic poets “did use inconsistency to characterize speakers or
narrators, make thematic suggestions, dramatize problems or conflicts, produce ambigu-
ity or indeterminacy, raise questions about power and authority, and represent the varied
complexity of the world” (O’Hara 2007, 142).
11 O’Hara 2007, 5.
12 Ryberg 1942, 383.
13 Fowler 1997, 3, distinguishing five different senses of ‘closure’, which are all interconnected.
132 chapter 5

work and/or the process by which we read and interpret that concluding sec-
tion”,14 as in John Marincola’s study presenting “a synopsis of some of the major
characteristics of closure that are observable in the Greek and Roman histor-
ians”.15 But it can also refer—as “infratextual closure”—to episodes or scenes
within a work.16 Two observations on dialectic made by studies and theories
of closure are especially relevant for my analysis of Tacitus: first, closure and
aperture do not have to be studied separately, but, rather, it is illuminating to
look for “a dialectic between them in a text”;17 second, another sort of dialectic is
inherent to historiography: “narrative history needs to suggest simultaneously
the sense of an ending and the continuance of the historical process”.18 In my
analysis of Tacitus, I will apply a broad concept of ‘closure’ and argue that
he constantly works with the dialectic between closure and aperture, also as
regards imperial representation and deconstruction, in his historical narrat-
ive, which continuously constructs the sense of an ending only to open it up
again.
Theories and studies of disconcertion analyse certain literary mechanisms
and their effect on the reader as ‘disconcerting’.19 On the one hand, discon-
certion is closely connected with disrupting the expectations of a reader or
recipient.20 Everything that the recipient of a theatre play or the reader of a
text can make fit into his system of values will fulfil his expectations and make
him content; but everything that deviates from the norm of convention, in
general, will disconcert a recipient or reader: he is disconcerted if he cannot
grasp something by his criteria of judgment and regular categories.21 The recip-
ient who is disconcerted because he is not able to explain something by the
conventional norms will have to develop his own critical thinking.22 On the
other hand, disconcertion has been defined from the point of view of an active
communicator, mainly an orator, as a means to achieve a rhetorical process of

14 Marincola 2005, 287.

15 Marincola 2005, 285.
16 Fowler 1997, 13.
17 Fowler 1997, 5.
18 Marincola 2005, 316; cf. Marincola 2005, 286, drawing on Fowler’s work on closure.
19 See the studies on e.g. Augustine, Seneca, and Plato in Früh et al. 2015, and Sallmann 1988
on Apuleius.
20 See Jäkel 1986.
21 Cf. Jäkel 1986, 9: “Alles, was er [sc. der Leser] in dieses sein Wertsystem einzuordnen ver-
mag, entspricht seinem Erwartungshorizont und befriedigt ihn, wohingegen alles, was
außerhalb seines Wertsystems liegt, sich also nicht mit den ihm vertrauten Urteilskrite-
rien erfassen läßt, seine Irritation erregt, d.h. es beunruhigt ihn, weil er es nicht beurteilen
und in die ihm geläufigen Kategorien einordnen kann.”
22 Cf. Jäkel 1986, 12.
creating uncertainty 133

destabilization, in which a recipient is made to feel disconcerted about a cer-

tain piece of ‘knowledge’ in order to make him reach a new ‘knowledge’.23 Both
perspectives on the use of disconcerting devices are important for my analysis
of Tacitus’ text and his methods of deconstructing imperial representation. I
argue that, as a function of his text, he applies strategies that disconcert the
reader, and that this makes the reader to a certain degree distrust Tacitus and
his way of deconstructing imperial representation.
This chapter deals with certain literary mechanisms used in Tacitus’ forms of
deconstruction that involve inconsistency, a dialectic of closure and aperture,
and disconcertion. Two methods to achieve uncertainty can be distinguished:
first, Tacitus plays with alternatives, with inconsistent variants, and this play
is characterized by a certain inconsistency, which is disconcerting (p.133–148);
second, Tacitus plays with oppositions, and depicts them as unstable or as
causing instability, which disconcerts (p.149–158). In both cases, he builds up
expectations of norms and behaviour, which he then breaks. There is no ‘clos-
ure’ of methods of interpretation (p.159–165).

2 Playing with Variants

2.1 Alternative Versions

It is a standard practice of historians to present not one, but several versions
or several possible explanations of a single event, action, or form of imper-
ial representation. They are often inconsistent; they cannot all be true at the
same time. Different variants of a story or reason may be connected with a
certain authority, a group of people defined vaguely or not at all,24 or variants
may simply be stated without naming a source for them.25 The author “can,
as he wishes, record, dismiss, ignore or include versions of dubious or inascer-
tainable authority”,26 and through several variants “include a number of nasty
interpretations without any indication of the nature of the authority in any
case”.27 Such variants or alternative versions and motives in Tacitus have been

23 See Knape 2015.

24 For the use of the expressions tradunt, ferunt, and forms of credere see Develin 1983, 77:
“This, then, is the use of such verbs, highly suspect at times as literal truth, often the story
which suits Tacitus, however deficient the authority for it may have been.”
25 Grethlein 2013, 162 calls this (“the assignation of stories to other authors, rumours and
alternative versions”) “narratorial uncertainty” or “narrative ambiguity”.
26 Develin 1983, 85.
27 Develin 1983, 73.
134 chapter 5

the topic of studies that have analysed insidious alternatives as a technique of

innuendo and implied judgement.28
Inez Ryberg discusses “devices by which Tacitus leads the reader to make
the accusations which the historian is unwilling to make”.29 She thereby dis-
tinguishes between Tacitus the historian who “would not suppress or misstate
the facts” and Tacitus the artist who “could guide the reader’s interpretation of
them”.30 Tacitus’ techniques of innuendo are characterized by her as so impli-
cit, subtle, and constant that they to some degree defy analysis in detail.31
Ryberg claims that the conflict between the “recorded facts” of a reign and
Tacitus’ conception of the historian’s task, in which “the technique of innuendo
comes most conspicuously into play”, are “frequent in the account of Tiberius
but relatively rare in the story of Nero”.32 David Whitehead’s “empirically-
derived” approach presents a “collection of data” on all the alternatives presen-
ted in Tacitus and formulated with the conjunctions vel/an/aut/sive/seu.33 He
focuses on “the provision by the historian of an alternative explanation or
account, apparently impartially but in practice guiding the reader to a par-
ticular conclusion”.34 Whitehead searches for Tacitus’ point of view among
alternatives: he analyses Tacitus’ use of alternatives and studies where Tacitus’
opinion lies within them. He distinguishes cases in which the emphasis and
hence Tacitus’ opinion is “probably or certainly on first alternative” (four cases
in Tacitus) from cases in which there is “no discernible emphasis” (92 cases
in Tacitus) and from cases in which the emphasis is “probably or certainly on
second (or last) alternative” (49 cases in Tacitus)—but also points out that it is
not always clear how to rubricize the single cases. In his study it turns out that it
is not true that the second “or” in Tacitus is usually closest to his view. “What we

28 Cf. also the overview in Hellegouarc’h 1991, 2414–2416.

29 Ryberg 1942, 391.
30 Ryberg 1942, 383. Cf. Ryberg 1942, 384: she interprets inconsistencies in Tacitus as “the
resources employed by Tacitus the artist to produce an impression for which Tacitus the
historian is not willing to take the responsibility”.
31 Cf. Ryberg 1942, 390: “Most subtle and most constantly employed of all Tacitus’ resources
is the innuendo which depends purely on choice and arrangement of words, or on clever
juxtaposition of ideas; and this, like his interpretation of character and motives, is so much
a part of the fabric of the Annals as to defy analysis in detail.” And further on Archelaus’
suicide and Tiberius’ role in it: “The impression of Tiberius’ guilt is implicit in every line
of the brief narrative, though nowhere can there be found any actual charge.”
32 Ryberg 1942, 404.
33 Whitehead 1979, 475. Whitehead’s analysis is inspired by Yavetz 1975, 190 (“A detailed ana-
lysis of Tacitus’ usage of the words vel or an would perhaps prove that the second ‘or’ was
usually closest to his own view.”).
34 Hardie 2009, 560, referring to Whitehead 1979.
creating uncertainty 135

can, however, say is that when (approximately once in every three occasions)
Tacitus did wish to load the choice one way or the other, it was virtually always
toward the second (or last) alternative.”35 Whitehead remarks that Annals 15
shows a concentration of alternatives regarding events and motives presented
and that alternatives cluster around certain significant events such as the death
of Agrippina, the Great Fire of Rome, and the Pisonian conspiracy.36 Develin,
already cited in this section, studies expressions of uncertainty and the inclu-
sion of different variants of events as Tacitean techniques of innuendo. He
collects and analyses passages in which Tacitus gives several variants, under-
lines that the historian also mentions variants he explicitly regards not true,
that Tacitus sometimes decides which one he deems trustworthy and some-
times not, and that some variants may even be his own invention.37 Develin
makes a strong argument against reading Tacitus’ confessions of uncertainty
about different variants as signs of his objectivity.38
The interpretation of Tacitus’ use of alternative versions that I shall offer
here both agrees and disagrees with these previous studies. My interest is less
in the antithesis or inconsistency of alternatives than in their dialectic, the way
they work together in the text. I follow the notion that Tacitus’ use of alternat-
ives is not to be read as a feature of his objective attitude, but that his innuendo
guides the reader in a certain way. His technique is indeed difficult to grasp and
describe by analysis—or, at least not by mere statistics, helpful as they may be.
I do not focus on the sheer numbers of alternatives, but on the impression and
atmosphere they convey. Just as one single counter-example can refute a hypo-
thesis confirmed by a thousand previous examples, one different use of altern-
atives can change the way the readers understand several others. My focus is
on the reader confronted with a text that plays with alternatives and opposites,
not on the point of view of Tacitus himself. Tacitus the historian and Tacitus the
artist are, in my analysis, not separate instantiations of one person, but closely
intertwined. I will demonstrate that the artist-historian uses the presentation
of variants (and his play with oppositions)39 to disconcert the reader. This is

35 Whitehead 1979, 493.

36 Cf. Whitehead 1979, 495. His statistical analysis refutes Ryberg 1942, 398, who claims, as
mentioned above, that “[i]n the last six books of the Annals Tacitus’ technique of creating
an impression for which he declines to accept responsibility appears only rarely”.
37 See Develin 1983, 82 in the context of discussing Ann. 1.76: “All versions are allowed in;
even what Tacitus professes not to believe is finally given a chance. There are times when
it suits Tacitus not to make a choice, and there is some possibility that variants such as
these were invented.”
38 See e.g. Develin 1983, 94.
39 See p.133–158.
136 chapter 5

based on the premise that the question of which of the variants Tacitus decides
to present and how he does this depends not only on his sources, but also, and
mainly, on his literary strategies and purposes. My interest in Tacitus’ use of
alternative variants is not in finding out their historical truth or their sources.
Whether one of the alternatives presents a historical ‘fact’ and the other does
not is not the issue in this section.40 I focus rather on the different ways in which
Tacitus plays with variants and oppositions, and I argue that the very act of
presenting pieces of information as alternative variants or as oppositions may
disconcert the recipients of Tacitean texts.41 Whether disconcertion is or is not
caused, does not depend on the statements of the Tacitean narrator about these
variants: he may explicitly decide, or implicitly suggest or insinuate, which of
several versions presented he prefers, or he may leave this question completely
open. Disconcertion, I contend, can be achieved in each of these cases.
Let us first take a look at passages in which alternative, inconsistent ver-
sions are given and the narrator states explicitly which one he regards as more
trustworthy. Early in the Annals the question is raised of who is responsible
for the murder of Agrippa Postumus, the first murder of the principate of
Tiberius. There are two alternatives: Was Augustus responsible, having ordered
that Agrippa Postumus be killed as soon as he himself had died? Or are Tiberius
and Livia responsible (Ann. 1.6)? Tacitus favours the version by which Tiberius
and Livia are the culprits, by analysing the plausibility of each alternative. It
is not plausible, we are told, that Augustus would have his grandson Agrippa
killed for the advantage of his stepson Tiberius (neque mortem nepoti pro se-
curitate privigni inlatam credibile erat, Ann. 1.6.2). Tacitus considers it closer to
the truth (proprius vero) that Tiberius, motivated by fear, and Livia, driven by
the hatred of a stepmother, hurriedly effected his assassination (Ann. 1.6.2).
In a similar way, the first murder in Nero’s principate is clearly pinned down
to one of two explanations. Silanus is murdered by Agrippina not because of
his violent nature (ingenii violentia)—alternative 1—but because he is a great-
great-grandson of Augustus—alternative 2—as the passage reveals only at the
end (quippe et Silanus divi Augusti abnepos erat. haec causa necis, Ann. 13.1.1–2).
Likewise, Tacitus explicitly prefers the version according to which Nero killed
Poppaea in an outburst of anger by a kick when she was pregnant (Ann. 16.6.1).
This is stated as a fact. The alternative version of Poppaea’s death, namely that

40 On the issue of the construction of ‘facts’ see p.47–48.

41 The historian’s “information management” is also at the centre of Therese Fuhrer’s ana-
lysis of Sallust’s episode on Cicero’s election as consul (Sall. Cat. 23–28), in which she
focuses on how much information is given, in which context, and in which order (Fuhrer
2018).
creating uncertainty 137

she was killed by poison, is explicitly rejected (neque enim venenum crediderim,
Ann. 16.6.1).42 To make the refutation stronger, Tacitus gives an explanation for
the existence of the wrong version: the quidam scriptores who favour the ver-
sion of the story in which Nero kills Poppaea by poison do so odio magis quam
ex fide, more because they hate Nero than because they believe the story (Ann.
16.6.1). On the one hand, by saying so, the narrator constructs for himself a trust-
worthy persona which is aiming at objectivity. On the other hand, the reader is
made aware of the fact that historians in presenting their accounts may be led
by personal feelings, in this case hatred. The reader can either accept that the
author of the Annals is impartial because he mentions the feelings that guide
(other) authors, or may doubt his impartiality for exactly the same reason.43 In
addition to this disconcertion, the way in which the wrong alternative is expli-
citly rejected is somewhat disconcerting: Tacitus does not give the names of
the authors whose version deviates from his own here, although he promised
to do so earlier (nos consensum auctorum secuturi, quae diversa prodiderint, sub
nominibus ipsorum trademus, Ann. 13.20.2).44 But the rejection of an alternat-
ive for Poppaea’s death not only attracts attention because Tacitus attributes it
to other unnamed authors and, in anonymizing them, breaks his own rule. It
also puts emphasis on refuting wrongs done to Nero, and this at a point where
they are hardly necessary. The disconcertion typical of Tacitus is not an aspect
of Cassius Dio’s or Suetonius’ passages on Poppaea’s death. Cassius Dio does
not mention the version that the murder was a poisoning (Cass. Dio 62.28.1–
3): he is interested rather in Poppaea’s luxury, concern about her beauty, and
Nero’s longing for her after her death, which makes him castrate the boy Sporus
who resembles her. Dio gives all this information in the context of Poppaea’s
death. Nor is there any disconcertion over Poppaea’s death in Suetonius. Nero’s
murder of her by a kick is mentioned in the rubric on crudelitas, and is made

42 Develin also discusses this alternative as striking but considers it to be ironic (cf. Develin
1983, 90). However, planned and insidious poisoning is indeed a stronger reproach than
killing as a crime of passion, which Nero later regretted. We should take the two alternat-
ives sincerely.
43 For the expression of impartiality as a means by which ancient historians construct
authority see Marincola 1997, 158–174.
44 This promise is not fulfilled in several instances in the third hexad; see Koestermann 1968,
122 and Syme 1958, 291 n. 4, who speculate that Tacitus had not yet completely finished or
revised these books. Develin 1983, 84, by contrast, points out that Tacitus did not have to
make a promise that he would not carry out later: “He has led us to believe that he follows
a practice which he can hardly have followed. There are a few variants in later passages,
but names are named only three times. Why no names in other instances? For example,
A. 14.9. Names might spoil the impression.”
138 chapter 5

plausible by contending that Poppaea had reproached him for coming back
home late when she was pregant and ill (Suet. Ner. 35.3).
The disconcertion in Tacitus, which is caused even though the narrator offi-
cially and explicitly expresses his preference for one alternative, brings us to
passages in which the narrator also prefers one of two alternative versions,
but in which it is the preference expressed that itself causes uncertainty. Thus,
when Nero introduces the innovative Greek-style Neronia games, an import-
ant medium for his representation as artist, opinions about these games are
mixed (varia fama, Ann. 14.20.1). Tacitus reports arguments against the Nero-
nia first (Ann. 14.20). Arguments supportive of the Neronia follow (Ann. 14.21):
they are introduced by the unfavourable comment that most people liked the
permissive climate (pluribus ipsa licentia placebat), but put forward respect-
able terms for it (ac tamen honesta nomina praetendebant) (Ann. 14.21.1). In
his commentary on the Annals Erich Koestermann reads this statement as an
attempt by Tacitus to present the arguments of those in favour of the new
Greek games neutrally, but in which nevertheless Tacitus’ own negative attitude
towards this novelty breaks through.45 I rather read Tacitus’ play with variants
here as preventing closure and causing disconcertion: the reader is first pre-
pared to understand arguments in favour of the Neronia as hollow excuses for
licentious behaviour. However, despite this introduction these arguments turn
out to be quite rational. What is more, the narrator concedes that the spectacle
ended with no obvious scandal (nullo insigni dehonestamento, Ann. 14.21.4).46
And while many people had worn Greek clothing at the event, it fell out of fash-
ion afterwards (Ann. 14.21.4). Neither the feared wantonness nor foreignness, as
first expressed in the arguments against the Neronia (abolitos paulatim patrios
mores funditus everti per accitam lasciviam, ut … degeneretque studiis externis
iuventus, Ann. 14.20.4), have become reality. The reader is thus left at least a
little disconcerted about how to evaluate the arguments pro and contra.
A position that at first seems clear and proven may also be weakened, for
example, when talking about different versions of the Pisonian conspiracy:
Tacitus reports that Gaius Plinius presented another version of the events, in
which Antonia, Claudius’ daughter, was part of the conspiracy (Ann. 15.53.3).

45 See Koestermann 1968, 65: “Wenn sich auch Tacitus bemüht, den Befürwortern der Neu-
erung objektiv Gehör zu schenken, so tritt doch in den einleitenden Worten seine eigene
negative Einstellung ziemlich unverhüllt zutage.”
46 Syme and Koestermann propose different explanations to legitimize this inconsistency.
According to Syme 1958, 516 these are now sober arguments in favour. Koestermann
explains Tacitus’ concession by his fully developed understanding of poetry and art and an
attitude that appreciates not only the past, but also the present times (see Koestermann
1968, 67).
creating uncertainty 139

Pliny’s version seems absurdum (Ann. 15.53.4) to Tacitus, with Antonia giving
her name to and taking the risk for a forlorn hope and with Piso committing
himself to another marriage, although, as everyone knew, he was much in love
with his wife. But just when Pliny’s version seems weakened by these explan-
ations, Tacitus has a restriction follow in the form of a nisi-clause that casts
doubt on the assertion just made. For the narrator states that his assumptions
are correct—unless the desire to rule burns hotter than all other feelings: nisi
si cupido dominandi cunctis adfectibus flagrantior est (Ann. 15.53.4). As Tacitus’
own narratives in the Annals have given abundant examples supporting this
thesis, we are disconcerted about what to make of his, at first sight, seemingly
clear explanation. Closure of interpretation is, again, not possible.
Besides these explicit choices of alternative versions there are also implicit
decisions, in which the narrator merely suggests that he prefers one version.
Where there is no direct comment by the narrator, as in the passages just dis-
cussed, uncertainty and disconcertion are always to a certain degree inherent
in the implicit choices, already on the surface of the formulation. But meaning
can be conveyed in other ways: the reader is often guided by the position of a
version—the last being more powerful and emphatic and better remembered
in a process of argumentation—or by the length or degree of elaboration, or by
its context.47 The best known example of this technique of indirect emphasis
is probably the so-called Totengericht of Augustus, the evaluation of him as
emperor, which is presented first from a positive perspective and then from
a negative one (Ann. 1.9–10). The critical view is emphasized: it is put second
and given more space.48
We quite often find this disposition of two versions with the second carrying
the punch. When Tiberius and Livia do not appear in public after the death of
Germanicus, the first explanation, given as a fact in the text, is that they con-
sidered open grief beneath their imperial dignity (inferius maiestate sua rati, si
palam lamentarentur, Ann. 3.3.1). The second, introduced by an innocent an,
fits much better into Tacitus’ narrative and depiction of Tiberius and Livia.49

47 Cf. again Whitehead 1979, 493: when Tacitus loads the choice between alternatives, it is vir-
tually always towards the second. See Develin 1983, 85–87 for examples in Tacitus in which
the second alternative is suggestive. Cf. Döpp 1985, 156 n. 18 on sive-sive in Agr. 40.2; 42.4;
43.3: “Das zweite Glied, das sich dem Leser naturgemäß stärker einprägt als das frühere,
pflegt in Umfang und Aussage besonderes Gewicht zu haben—auch dies ein Mittel der
‘Sympathielenkung’.”
48 See Ryberg 1942, 387 on the statements about both Augustus and Tiberius: “the unfavour-
able judgments are given in much greater detail, are placed last, and allowed to stand, with
no correction, in the position of a final summing up”.
49 Cf. Whitehead 1979, 494, describing the results of his statistical analysis of Tacitus’ text: “It
140 chapter 5

They did not want people closely examining their demeanour and detecting
that they were insincere: an ne omnium oculis vultum eorum scrutantibus falsi
intellegerentur (Ann. 3.3.1). As Tacitus’ Tiberius and Livia are very likely to be
responsible for Germanicus’ death, it seems much more plausible that they did
not want to be watched by everyone lest their hypocrisy be detected. There
is also a clear implied preference in the case of the explanation for Burrus’
death, created this time by both the disposition and the length of the passages.
The narrator ostensibly leaves it open whether Burrus died of illness or poison:
incertum valetudine an veneno (Ann. 14.51.1). But while the reason for the illness-
hypothesis is briefly stated, the one about the poison develops into a lively story
that makes it appear much more probable (Ann. 14.51.1–2).50
In both cases just mentioned the second version is introduced by a disjunc-
tion. Such constructions with seu, sive, an, aut, vel abound in Tacitus when he
gives two versions and puts emphasis on the second alternative.51 The gram-
matical structure then implies a “structural neutrality”.52 The trick of present-
ing exactly two alternatives is that it makes us forget that a third version or
explanation may also be possible.53 We feel as if we have to choose between
these two only. The text is ‘closed’ to a certain agree; it is not open to a third
variant. When the Tacitean Nero trembles in the temple of Vesta he does so, we
are told, either because the goddess filled him with terror (seu numine exter-
rente) or because he was never free from fear due to consciousness of his crimes
(seu facinorum recordatione numquam timore vacuus) (Ann. 15.36.2). The pro-
fane idea that he merely slipped or stumbled is not supposed to come to mind;
the second alternative, again, seems most attractive given the development of
the narrative. Or, to take an example from Tacitus’ Domitian, the fact that he
inquires after Agricola’s health by sending freedmen and doctors more often
than was usual is interpreted as either concern or, much more probably given
his role in the Agricola, an investigation, the second alternative in the sive-sive
construction (sive cura illud sive inquisitio, Agr. 43.2).

is, however, clear, that an is his favourite, both overall and when he wanted to place
emphasis on the alternative which the ‘or’-word introduces.”
50 Since Suetonius (Ner. 35.5) and Cassius Dio (62.13.3) clearly favour the poison-version,
Koestermann 1968, 122 attributes Tacitus’ inclusion of the alternative (that Burrus died
of ill health) to the historian’s objectivity. Again, I read the inclusion of an alternative that
produces uncertainty, and which is later deconstructed either implicitly or explicitly as
implausible, as a technique for causing disconcertion.
51 Cf. Develin 1983, 85 on constructions with seu, an, aut, and vel.
52 This is Whitehead’s term (see Whitehead 1979, 475).
53 Cf. Develin 1983, 86.
creating uncertainty 141

Reporting another reproach to Domitian that illustrates his enmity towards

Agricola, Tacitus contends that this reproach was either true or invented to fit
the princeps’ character (sive verum istud, sive ex ingenio principis fictum ac com-
positum est, Agr. 40.2). The stress is, again, on the second sive-notion, which
underlines Domitian’s negative personality even more: Domitian’s character
suits hostile reproaches, be they true or not. The first alternative would not
be a good one (the reproach would still be true), but the second carries the
point Tacitus is making further: even if the reproach is not true, Domitian’s
character is still bad. We can see here that a second alternative can be worse
than a first one that was already quite bad. Similarly, after Tiberius has been
presented as the murderer of Sempronius Gracchus, the lover of Augustus’
daughter Julia, a second version of events claims (quidam … tradidere) that
he had Lucius Asprenas, proconsul of Africa, send the soldiers to kill Sem-
pronius so that the murder could be blamed on Lucius (Ann. 1.53.6). This
second version adds detail to the first one: two bad alternatives do not have
to be exclusive. This is also illustrated by Tacitus’ reasons for why Tiberius
misses a gladiatorial performance (Ann. 1.76.4): according to some (alii), he
was sick of crowds; others (quidam) referred to his morose temperament and
his fear of comparison with Augustus, who had been a good-humoured spec-
tator.
So far, the indirect preferences for one version among two alternatives pres-
ented do not really surprise the reader, if we accept the pattern that the second
or last alternative usually carries the punch. There are, however, some instances
in which the order of the alternatives runs counter to our expectations. When
Tiberius’ lack of concern regarding the situation in Gaul and Germany is ex-
plained by either his deep reserve or the fact that he knew that the incidents
were minor and less serious than commonly reported (altitudine animi, an com-
pererat modica esse et vulgatis leviora, Ann. 3.44.4), the second alternative is def-
initely more positive for him than the first. The first, however, makes the stand-
ard reproach of his reserve, which we would expect to be true. Likewise, when
Tiberius is depicted as not approving of one of Germanicus’ military actions,
the first explanation given is based on the standard reproach of Tiberius’ gen-
eral negative attitude towards Germanicus; the second explanation, though,
presents the reasoning of an experienced military leader, who is afraid of the
demoralization of his troops: quod Tiberio haud probatum, seu cuncta Ger-
manici in deterius trahenti, sive exercitum imagine caesorum insepultorumque
tardatum ad proelia et formidolosiorem hostium credebat (“Tiberius did not
approve. Perhaps he looked at everything that Germanicus did in a negative
light, or perhaps he believed that, after the sight of dead and unburied sol-
diers, the army would be reluctant to do battle and would be more fearful
142 chapter 5

of the enemy”, Ann. 1.62.2).54 This unexpected position of a (somewhat) pos-

itive alternative is also found in the description of Nero’s last meeting with
his mother and his clinging closely to her before the planned murder attack:
either he was continuing his show right to the end, or else the last sight of
his mother, who was about to die, caught his heart, however inhuman it was
(sive explenda simulatione, seu pe⟨ri⟩turae matris supremus adspectus quamvis
ferum animum retinebat, Ann. 14.4.4).55 In Agr. 42.2 the second alternative at
least allows for Domitian’s consciousness of guilt: Tacitus’ Domitian does not
grant the proconsular salary to Agricola either because he was offended that it
was not requested, as was obviously the regular procedure,56 or else as a result
of his conscience, so that he did not appear to have bought something that he
had forbidden57 (sive offensus non petitum, sive ex conscientia, ne quod vetuerat
videretur emisse).
Passages like these, in which the text does not give consistent clues about
which alternative is to be preferred, again prevent closure and cause disconcer-
tion. If the reader accepts the pattern by which the second, longer alternative
carries most weight, they do not fit into the overall negative images created
of Nero, Domitian, and Tiberius. They even weaken some standard motifs of
interpretation, such as Tiberius’ secrecy and hatred for Germanicus and Nero’s
inhuman heart. It would cause less cognitive dissonance to the reader to prefer
the first alternative in these cases. But this would imply a weakening of the
pattern by which the second alternative tends to be presented as stronger, and
at least cause disconcertion in reading some passages in which it is not clear
which alternative the narrator prefers.
Such an impression is stronger when the narrator does not express a pref-
erence for an alternative at all, neither explicitly nor implicitly. We have seen
above that the story about Bassus’ gold ends with two uncommented alternat-
ives: either Bassus killed himself or he was imprisoned, then released, and his
property was seized as compensation for a royal treasure (Ann. 16.3.2).58 The

54 Cf. Koestermann 1963, 214.

55 Again, Koestermann does not read this as an act of disconcerting the reader, as I do, but
as an argument for the psychological and human quality of Tacitus: according to Koes-
termann 1968, 32 this second alternative speaks “nicht nur für das psychologische Ein-
fühlungsvermögen des Tacitus, sondern nicht minder für sein Bedürfnis, sogar einer so
abartigen Persönlichkeit wie Nero menschlich irgendwie gerecht zu werden”.
56 Cf. Woodman 2014, 300.
57 See Woodman 2014, 301: “what Domitian had forbidden was A.’s sortition for the procon-
sulship of Africa or Asia (…); if he had nevertheless given him a proconsular salary, he
might be said to have bought him off.”
58 See p.91.
creating uncertainty 143

presentation of alternatives without expressing a preference is especially start-

ling when the alternatives are in stark contrast, as when talking about Tiberius
and Livia and not knowing whether their actions were driven by harmony or
hidden hatred (concordia sive occultis odiis, Ann 3.64.1).59 The narrator’s open-
ness can be underlined by terms such as incertum or by other clear statements
of impartiality (e.g. quorum neutrum adseverarim, Ann. 3.16.1).60 Tacitus leaves
it open whether Nero praised the dead Agrippina’s beauty or not (sunt qui
crediderint, sunt qui abnuant, Ann. 14.9.1) and whether Agrippina’s freedman
Mnester killed himself through affection for her or through fear of execution
(incertum caritate in patronam an metu exitii, Ann. 14.9.2).
Uncertainty is even expressed in fundamental statements about the his-
torian’s methods and results. The narrator underlines, in the context of Ger-
manicus’ death, that the truth even of the most important events cannot be
established (maxima quaeque ambigua sunt, Ann. 3.19.2). He is even uncertain
whether human life is determined by fate, immutable inevitability, or chance:
in incerto iudicium est fatone res mortalium et necessitate immutabili an forte
volvantur (Ann. 6.22.1).61 But, as mentioned above, we should not take expres-
sions of uncertainty as a clear criterion of the narrator’s objectivity or inno-
cence.62 Once a version of an event has been mentioned, it cannot be deleted
from the mind of the reader, no matter how strong the confession of uncer-
tainty may be. And no matter how strong the expression of uncertainty may
be, as in the case of Germanicus’ death just mentioned, the depiction until this
point has been so vivid that we think we can read into Tacitus that Tiberius had
had his nephew killed with the help of Piso.63 This relation between expres-

59 The formulation of the alternatives is further emphasized by the brevity of the expression
(contrasting the preceding colon) and the assonance, cf. Koestermann 1963, 544.
60 For the formula incertum an in Tacitus and the 14 text passages in which it is used see
Suerbaum 2015, 107–116.
61 Whitehead categorizes this alternative in the group of alternatives with “emphasis prob-
ably or certainly on first alternative”, but this emphasis only becomes apparent later: “But
after discussing this, Tacitus seems to agree with plurimi that it is the first” (Whitehead
1979, 478).
62 See also Develin 1983, 66–68 on incertum and Develin 1983, 70 on other expressions of
uncertainty.
63 See Ries 1969, 187–188 on this passage, citing Friedrich Leo’s reading experience (“Noch
heute werden die meisten Leser des Tacitus meinen, bei ihm gelesen zu haben, daß
Tiberius den Germanicus habe durch Piso vergiften lassen […]”, Ries 1969, 188; cf. Walker
1952, 116); and Ries 1969, 181–183 on the reader preferring the version of Ann. 3.16.1 to Ann.
3.15.3. Cf. Ryberg 1942, 395: Tacitus has “established the suspicion of poison by stating
Germanicus’ belief in it, and his own impartiality by stating the lack of any evidence for
it”.
144 chapter 5

sions of (un)certainty by the narrator and the disconcertion of the reader can
be further illustrated by Tacitus’ famous depiction of the Great Fire of Rome
(Ann. 15.38–44).
Tacitus’ presentation of the Great Fire (Ann. 15.38–44) is an excellent ex-
ample of Tacitus’ play with uncertainty over events. It is introduced by the
statement that it is unclear whether this disaster happened accidentally or by
a scheme of Nero: forte an dolo principis incertum (Ann. 15.38.1).64 Both ver-
sions have been recorded by authors, so Tacitus: nam utrumque auctores pro-
didere (Ann. 15.38.1). This uncertainty is not explicitly dissolved in the following
description. The depiction of the start of the fire, of the ideal site for the fire to
break out, and of people’s behaviour points to neither one nor the other version
(Ann. 15.38.2–6). It is presented as a fact that no one dared fight the fire because
there were repeated threats by many people who forebade extinguishing it, and
others openly threw firebrands and yelled that they were acting on someone’s
command. Tacitus’ comment on this assertion is again formulated as an altern-
ative. They did this either in order to loot more freely or because they really had
been given the order (sive ut raptus licentius exercerent seu iussu, Ann. 15.38.7).
The stress is on the short second alternative, iussu, pointing to Nero. The nar-
rative now switches to him and his name is mentioned for the first time (Ann.
15.39.1). We learn that Nero had been in Antium when the fire broke out and that
he only returned to Rome when the fire threatened his palace. The Palatium, his
palace, and the area surrounding it burn down (Ann. 15.39.1). Tacitus’ Nero takes
some measures that have popular appeal: he opens the Campus Martius, the
monuments of Agrippa, and his own gardens to the homeless and displaced,
he erects makeshift buildings, has vital supplies shipped to Rome, and lowers
the price of grain (Ann. 15.39.2). But just when we might be inclined to favour
Nero for his actions, these potentially positive measures are said to have been
in vain (in inritum cadebant, Ann. 15.39.3). As reason for this failure a rumour
is cited that had spread: it claimed that just when the city was in flames Nero
had appeared on his private stage and sung of the destruction of Troy, compar-
ing the present evil and the old disasters (quia pervaserat rumor ipso tempore
flagrantis urbis inisse eum domesticam scaenam et cecinisse Troianum excidium,
praesentia mala vetustis cladibus adsimulantem, Ann. 15.39.3). This is presented

64 Cf. Ryberg 1942, 398–400; cf. Yavetz 1975 on this passage, who points out that Tacitus, by
maintaining the appearance of objectivity (“Yet everything was written according to the
rules of a respectable sceptical point of view, and no one could accuse Tacitus of lying”,
Yavetz 1975, 183), manages to incriminate both Nero and the Christians (see Ann. 15.44.2)
here; cf. Yavetz 1975, 194: “Tacitus did not conceal the truth. He did not know it, and made
no special attempt to pretend it. With a malicious ‘objective’ smile he laughs at Nero and
the Christians equally.”
creating uncertainty 145

only as rumour by the narrator, not as a historical fact. But the mental image of
Nero singing while Rome burns is so striking that doubt about its historicity is
pushed into the background.
After a short halt the fire breaks out again (Ann. 15.40.1). Two reasons are
given why this new fire causes more ill fame for Nero (plusque infamiae, Ann.
15.40.2). The first is that the fire broke out on Tigellinus’ estates, as is stated as a
fact; the second reason given is that it seemed to be the case (videbaturque)
that Nero was seeking glory in founding a new city and giving it his name
(Ann. 15.40.2). That the second reason is not presented as a fact is almost for-
gotten by its close connection to the first ‘factual’ reason. The description of
the great extent of the destruction that follows (Ann. 15.41) can now be read as
something that suits Nero’s purposes and not as something that the princeps
would have lamented. This reading of the massive destruction is immediately
supported:65 Nero is, finally, said to have used the ruins of his city to construct
his new palace (ceterum Nero usus est patriae ruinis exstruxitque domum, Ann.
15.42.1), and this is given no longer as a hypothesis or a rumour, but as a simple
fact. The description of the palace illustrates that it needed much space, space
that was created by the fire (Ann. 15.42.1; 15.43.1). The rest of Nero’s building
measures (Ann. 15.43) appear in the light of the impression that he wanted to
build his own new city Neronia. In the long run, nothing Nero does can stop
the negative report that the fire was thought to have been ordered (infamia,
quin iussum incendium crederetur, Ann. 15.44.2). In order to dismiss this rumour
(abolendo rumori) Nero searches for another culprit and blames the Christi-
ans (Ann. 15.44.2). Whether the rumour is true or not is, again, not stated, but
Tacitus’ Nero wants to get rid of it. The reader may now be inclined to think
that this supports the truth of the rumour;66 if not, it at least shows Tacitus’
Nero once more destroying the life of innocent people for his own good.
We can see that rumour plays an important part in the narrative twice (Ann.
15.39.3; 15.44.2).67 In general, rumour as a narrative device allows the narrator
to present an opinion without giving a source, while maintaining a distance
from the content of the rumour. Rumour also has an important narrative func-
tion, as it makes people take action, as we observed.68 But rumour also fulfils an

65 Cf. p.67–69 on Nero’s building endeavours as a topic of deconstruction.

66 Cf. Develin 1983, 91: “The fact that Nero wanted to stop the rumour creates an impression
of its possible validity”.
67 On this rumour see also Flaig 2014, 276–280, whose analysis claims that the rumour was
so successful because Nero was not personally present at the site of the fire (cf. already
Yavetz 1975, 193).
68 The narrator states that rumour makes decent people do bad things (Ann. 2.55.6). Another
146 chapter 5

important argumentative function. Something can be innocently introduced

as a rumour and thus as an unevaluated element which does not have to be
‘true’. But the development of the narrative can slowly build on that rumour so
that it ultimately becomes an important part of the argument.69 In the Agric-
ola for example, Domitian’s poisoning Agricola is introduced only as rumour
(rumor veneno interceptum, Agr. 43.2). But this rumour is not only qualified
as constans, it is also strongly supported, almost ‘proven’ by Domitian’s beha-
viour and depiction in the following passage, in which he is described as joyful
and as only feigning his grief over Agricola’s death (Agr. 43.2–4). For the nar-
rative and the plausibility of the events depicted it is less important whether
Tacitus really believed some rumours and disregarded others.70 More import-
ant for the persuasiveness of his presentation is the function of the rumour
for the development of the narrative and the argument. Rumours do not have
to be true and Tacitus does not have to consider them to be true. Rumours
tell us something about how people felt and how they perceived the world.71
Emotions and perceptions can determine the cause of events in the same way
that ‘facts’ can.72 But it is Tacitus’ decision to integrate them into his narrat-
ive.73
To return to the Fire of Rome: until the end there is no clear statement that
Nero had the city burnt. However, it is especially the cui bono argument, care-
fully developed within the text, that points to Nero as organizer of the fire. To
draw attention to the profit that a person gained from an event is a rhetor-

example of a rumour making an emperor react is provided by Tiberius’ visiting the sen-
ate because he wants to deflect from rumours that he aims to cast down Agrippina (Ann.
4.55.1). For functions of rumour in Tacitus see the study of Ries 1969 on Agr. 39–43; Hist.
1.4–49; Hist. 1.50.1–3; Ann. 1.4.2–5; Ann. 2.39–40.
69 Cf. Ryberg 1942, 389: “Most remarkable of all is the device of giving credence to such
charges,—presented originally in the form of rumours, quotations, or unsupported alter-
natives,—by referring to them later in the narrative as if they were established fact.” See
also Ryberg 1942, 397; 403.
70 See Develin 1983, 78: “Tacitus believes rumour when it suits him.”
71 Cf. Pelling 2009b, 163.
72 As Gibson 1998, 113 has pointed out, “rumour can itself have a causative role. In other
words, perceptions about an event or a character can, regardless of their veracity, influ-
ence and determine the course of subsequent events”. See also Suerbaum 2015, 192–195
for rumour as a literary device applied by Tacitus.
73 I hence do not agree with positions that separate Tacitus’ true account of history from the
rumours he does not want to be responsible for, such as Ryberg 1942, summarized at the
beginning of this section. See also e.g. Aubrion 1985, 725: “la large utilisation des rumeurs
et des commentaires anonymes favorise les procès d’intention, mais elle corrige les insuf-
fisances de l’ histoire officielle et donne la parole aux rebelles et aux contestataires”.
creating uncertainty 147

ical technique.74 It operates on the logic that the situation after an event may
explain what actions and motives led to this situation. In Tacitus we are told
by and by that Nero took up the opportunity of the fire for an artistic perform-
ance (presented in the text as a rumour: rumor, Ann. 15.39.3); that he planned
a new city bearing his name (seemingly, according to the text: videbaturque,
Ann. 15.40.2); and that he took advantage of the destruction (given as a fact in
the text: usus est, Ann. 15.42.1). The grade of facticity thus moves from rumour
to appearance to fact. As it anyway could not be proven that Nero really was
responsible for the fire, we can consider the uncertainty that the narrator con-
fesses to be part of the rhetorical structure of the passage. This way, the reader
does not feel forced to accept a version presented as clear that could not be
clear. He will instead draw the conclusion himself.

2.2 Excursus on Alternative Times: Contemporary and Past Times in the

Preface to the Agricola
An example of another kind of disconcertion can be found in the opening
passage of the Agricola (1–3), Tacitus’ first work, written in 97 or 98CE. The dis-
concertion concerns Tacitus’ attitude towards and description of Nerva’s and
Trajan’s reigns and is caused by expressions of time that are not completely
clear. There are three different layers of time in the preface: a distant past,
namely the Republic, especially the late Republic of the first century BCE; a
recent past, namely the reign of Domitian; and the present time under Nerva
and Trajan. When Tacitus starts by saying that it was custom “in past times”
(antiquitus) to relate the deeds and characters of famous men, he has Repub-
lican times in mind (Agr. 1.1). These are contrasted to his own times (ne nostris
quidem temporibus), in which people are indifferent to their contemporaries.
This contrast is further developed when he compares biographies and autobi-
ographies of Republican times (apud priores, Agr. 1.2–3) to his own situation
(Agr. 1.4). He, who was going to relate a dead man’s life (nunc narraturo mihi,
Agr. 1.4), needed a reprieve that he would not have sought had he been about
to make criticisms75—so savage and hostile to virtues were these times (tam
saeva et infesta virtutibus tempora, Agr. 1.4).
This interpretation of the very beginning of the Agricola is in accord with
the following passages, where both the harsh criticism of Domitian (Agr. 2)
and the praise of Nerva and Trajan (Agr. 3) are unambiguous.76 However, when

74 See, for example, the cui bono argument in Cicero’s Pro Sexto Roscio and its forceful dis-
position, with Stroh 1975, 68–69; 79.
75 Cf. Woodman 2014, 75.
76 Cf. Woodman 2014, 65–70; 74–76, who also reads nostris … temporibus/aetas (Agr. 1.1),
148 chapter 5

we start reading the Agricola, unaware of these later passages, not all of the
expressions mentioned above will clearly denote the reign of Domitian. His
“own times” (nostris … temporibus, Agr. 1.1) could at least include, even if not
meaning exclusively, the present time when he is writing the Agricola, i.e. the
reigns of Nerva and Trajan. The nunc in nunc narraturo mihi (Agr. 1.4) could
naturally refer to Tacitus’ present times. fuit would then refer to the past from
the point of view of the reader.77 The following expression tam saeva et infesta
virtutibus tempora (Agr. 1.4) even lacks the verb erant (referring to Domitian’s
times)—or does it lack the verb sunt (referring to Nerva and Trajan)?78
As mentioned already, the following passages (Agr. 2–3) provide closure
and solve this ambiguity by clearly contrasting Domitian’s tyrannical regime
to Nerva and Trajan’s happy and blessed times.79 Also, the parallel structure
of this passage (Agr. 1) supports this interpretation, since the contrasting pair
antiquitus—nostris temporibus (Agr. 1.1) is mirrored by apud priores (Agr. 1.2)—
nunc (Agr. 1.4). It is still true, though, that when reading this passage for the
first time, the expressions nostris … temporibus (Agr. 1.1), nunc (Agr. 1.4), and
tam saeva et infesta virtutibus tempora with its missing verb (Agr. 1.4) could
have been formulated less ambiguously. It is hard to believe that Tacitus was
not aware of the disconcertion that his formulations would cause. He must at
least be taking into account the fact that his readers may relate some of his
descriptions of bad times to the contemporary reigns of Nerva and Trajan.80

nunc narraturo mihi … fuit (Agr. 1.4), and tempora (Agr. 1.4) as referring to Domitian’s
reign.
77 Cf. Woodman 2014, 74, who mentions this possible reading, but prefers fuit as past from
the point of view of the author, and so as referring to Domitian’s reign.
78 Cf. Sailor 2008, 58–59, arguing for ambiguity in this passage: “This ambiguity permits a
link between the conditions of public discourse under Domitian and those that prevail in
the present” (Sailor 2008, 59).
79 Tacitus expresses a positive attitude to his own times not only in Agr. 3 but also in Ann.
3.55.5, which contrasts with the atmosphere as analysed for the era of Nero and Domitian
on p.90–93.
80 For those interested in the author Tacitus, it is tempting to see this analysis of the begin-
ning of the Agricola in the context of Tacitus’ attitude to the last Flavian and to Nerva
and Trajan, as expressed in later works. (The famous tam diu Germania vincitur and pro-
ximis temporibus triumphati magis quam victi sunt in Germ. 37 can be read as criticism of
Trajan and Nerva [see Seelentag 2004, 138–139, cf. 152–154]. If in the Histories [Hist. 4.39–
45] the first senate meeting is read as presenting parallels between Nero/Domitian and
Vespasian/Trajan, the criticism of Vespasian must also apply to Trajan [esp. Hist. 4.42.5–
6]. The honours given to Nerva [and Tigellinus] as reward for their role in destroying the
Pisonian conspiracy are not passed over [Ann. 15.72.1]. There is also more general criti-
cism on the contemporary times in Ann. 3.18.3–4 [in the context of Claudius’ unexpected
path to power, Tacitus remarks on the farcical nature of human affairs, which applies not
creating uncertainty 149

3 Playing with Oppositions

3.1 Binary Oppositions: Creating Perversion and Dilemmas

A special case of variants or alternatives are binary oppositions. Opposites,
such as ‘good’ and ‘bad’ or ‘normal’ and ‘abnormal’, ‘free’ and ‘slave’, or ‘man’
and ‘woman’, help to give orientation: they provide a system, for example of
goodness, normality, freedom, or gender, into which single elements can be
pigeonholed. Whether a person is good or bad, striving for utility or honour, free
or slave, man or woman, or also poor or rich, present or absent, and whether a
situation is conceived of as normal or abnormal makes a significant difference
for anyone who has to interpret the behaviour of people and the atmosphere of
a situation, as Tacitus’ readers and Tacitus himself must do. The most import-
ant binary opposition for the historian is that of truth and falsehood. Tacitus
presents this opposition clearly and distinguishes the ways by which truth and
falsehood each acquire strength. Truth gains strength from sight and the pas-
sage of (enough) time, deception gains strength from haste and things that are
unclear: quia veritas visu et mora, falsa festinatione et incertis valescunt (Ann.
2.39.4). The clear antithesis of veritas and falsa, the assonances in veritas visu
and falsa festinatione, and the parallel construction of visu et mora and festina-
tione et incertis, including also the chiasmus of visu/incertis and mora/ festina-
tione, all support the idea that truth and deception can in fact be distinguished

only to older history but also to recent times], and Ann. 12.43.2 [where the criticism of
Rome’s dependence on Africa and Egypt regarding corn supply includes his own times].)
Tacitus never wrote the work on the new dynasty that he promises first here in the Agri-
cola (Agr. 3.3) in 97/98 CE and again about ten years later in the Histories (Hist. 1.1.4). In his
last work, the Annals, he even claims to have plans for a work on Augustus (Ann. 3.24.3),
which implies at least the delay of a work on Nerva/Trajan. Scholarship has widely debated
whether this mirrors a change in Tacitus’ attitude towards the ruling dynasty (see the over-
view in Suerbaum 2015, 547–563). It has also been observed that Tacitus’ comments on
his own relationship with Domitian develop over time (cf. Woodman 2009, 37–39). They
become more and more candid. There is nothing about this relationship here in the Agri-
cola. Roughly ten years later in the Histories, he concedes (nec abnuerim) that he was sup-
ported by Domitian (Hist. 1.1.3). Again some years later in the Annals—the precise dating
is unknown—he mentions his own involvement in Domitian’s Saecular Games of 88 CE. If
one reads this as a process of 15 to 20 years in which Tacitus distances himself from Nerva
(who was consul in 90 CE under Domitian) and Trajan (who was consul in 91 CE under
Domitian) while more openly acknowledging his past under Domitian, the disconcertion
detected in the preface of the Agricola would fit well with that notion. Tacitus would then
be indirectly inciting the reader to wonder about the similarities and differences between
Domitian and Nerva/Trajan. Tacitus’ first work would be raising this question (Agr. 1.1)
and then clearly answering it in the rest of that work. But his later works would not show
so straightforward a distinction and would thus reflect a more balanced answer.
150 chapter 5

from one another. From a structuralist viewpoint, when trying to make sense
of the world it is especially helpful to divide and analyse its single elements
according to certain contrasts. Binary opposites help to order the world.81 If
they do not work, they disconcert.
This ordering function becomes especially evident in cases where the system
of oppositions is somehow disturbed, for which we may study two examples.
First, Tacitus depicts the horror and chaos during the Capitoline War by show-
ing that opposing things were present at the same time: the cruel and distorted
appearance of the whole city presents the contrast of fighting and wounded
men beside baths and restaurants, of heaps of bleeding dead beside harlots
and their ilk, of the vice and licence of luxurious peace to all the crime and
horror of a captured town, of the image of the city as both furious and wan-
ton at the same time: saeva ac deformis urbe tota facies: alibi proelia et vulnera,
alibi balineae popinaeque; simul cruor et strues corporum, iuxta scorta et scortis
similes; quantum in luxurioso otio libidinum, quidquid in acerbissima captivitate
scelerum, prorsus ut eandem civitatem et furere crederes et lascivire (Hist. 3.83.2).
Second, the importance of oppositions for structuring and understanding the
world becomes apparent when one cannot rely on them anymore. Thus, Tacitus
illustrates human helplessness against the natural power of a flood by the insig-
nificance of conventional oppositions: in this extreme situation it makes no
difference whether one is active or idle, prudent or incautious, whether one
acts considerately or randomly: nihil strenuus ab ignavo, sapiens ab imprudenti,
consilia a casu differre (Ann. 1.70.3).
We can further illustrate the disconcertion that antitheses can cause by dif-
ferences of gender and status. We have seen above that we can construct the
Tacitean image of what is characteristic of a man and a woman.82 The same
is true for the contrast between freeborn people and slaves. But we have also
noted that, as gender is performed in the narrative, an emperor like Nero can be
criticized by being ascribed female attributes. However, masculinity and fem-
ininity, and being slave or freeborn, are not clear and unambiguous patterns of
interpretation in Tacitus. The behaviour of the slave Clemens, who pretends to
be Agrippa Postumus, is explicitly analysed as untypical of a slave (non servili
animo, Ann. 2.39.1). More often, figures break implicitly with the main rules that
the text constructs for their gender. Their behaviour appears to be inconsistent
with the norms that regularly apply to it. Agricola’s particular masculinity, for

81 Figures in the narrative often “evaluate their situation as a conflict of utility and honorabil-
ity” (van den Berg 2012, 205). See van den Berg 2012, 204–209 on the opposition of honesta
and utilia in Tacitus (see esp. Ann. 4.33.2), which he reads as rhetorically influenced.
82 See p.102–103.
creating uncertainty 151

example, lies in his not fulfilling the classical manly norms stubbornly. Rather,
his flexibility and his modesty allow him to become a model for his era.83 All
the patterns that help to order and analyse the world by social categories are
broken by Epicharis, the hero of the Pisonian conspiracy mentioned above
(Ann. 15.51; 57).84 The reader would not expect too much of her, as a woman
and slave/freedwoman.85 But not only does her behaviour prove more manly
and more freeborn than that of all the Romans involved in the conspiracy. She
can even be seen as the only real conspirator among a group of people who
merely play the roles of conspirators. She gives no dramatic speeches, she dies
without histrionics, and betrays no one.86 In certain important passages the
reader is thus disconcerted over the patterns of interpretation constructed in
and by other parts of the texts. Terms and concepts such as masculinity, free-
dom, and virtue are only at first sight unambiguous and stable.87 The Tacitean
texts illustrate the fact that viewing the world in dialectical concepts is not the
approach needed in order to make sense of it or deduce normative guidelines
for one’s actions and behaviour.88
So far, we have seen that the play with oppositions in Tacitus is important
both for establishing and for disrupting orientation, which results in a lack of
closure and in uncertainty. Before we study more closely the strategies by which
the text achieves this uncertainty through the use of oppositions, we should
be aware that oppositions are also part of panegyrical literature. To praise the
emperor, he is shown as uniting or combining things that are usually opposed
to each other. Scholars have pointed out that Pliny’s praise of Trajan in the
Panegyricus works in this way. Pliny’s Trajan unites in himself several para-
doxes that are commonly conceived of as mutually exclusive, as binary oppo-

83 See Späth 2011, 136–139; Späth 2012, 439–440.

84 For women and slaves (under torture) as positive examples see Hist. 1.3.1.
85 Cf. the attack on both in this part of the narrative in Ann. 15.54.4 (cum secum servilis animus
praemia perfidiae reputavit, “when the mind of a slave calculated the rewards of treach-
ery”; uxoris quoque consilium adsumpserat, muliebre ac deterius, “he had also accepted his
wife’s advice, the advice of a woman and quite despicable”).
86 Woodman 1993, 114–115 has analysed the difference between Epicharis and the other con-
spirators: unlike them she does not play the role of a conspirator, but is one (p.107); instead
of using only empty words she really takes actions.
87 To problematize the content of seemingly self-evident terms (such as fortitude) and to
demonstrate thereby the fragility of a linguistic norm can be considered a (Socratic)
method that causes disconcertion. See Jäkel 1986, 14.
88 Cf. Jäkel on tragedy: Jäkel 1986, 13, discussing aporetic situations that cause disconcertion,
sees an effect of Socratic-Platonic dialectic on the late tragedies, in which the intellectual
who learned to conceive of the world in dialectical terms can no longer act unambigu-
ously.
152 chapter 5

sites.89 He is both a comrade of his fellow soldiers and their leader; both civilian
in his behaviour towards his citizens and their accepted ruler.90 Additionally,
Trajan’s sublimity is paradoxically based on his denial of the sublime.91 There
are similar strategies in Domitianic panegyrics. Martial for example applauds
Domitian for honouring the past and the present. He celebrates the emperor
for combining both time-levels: sic nova dum condis, revocas, Auguste, priora: /
debentur quae sunt quaeque fuere tibi (“Thus, Augustus, while you found the
new, you bring back the old. What is and what was is owed to you”, Mart.
8.80.7–8). The panegyrical emperor fulfils all norms, even the contradictory
ones; he solves normative dilemmas. By contrast, in the historiographical dis-
course there are two strategies that draw on oppositions in order to criticize the
emperor, which function in two different ways. On the one hand, an emperor
may be depicted as devaluing, destroying, or inverting oppositions, which thus
no longer provide orientation, or which provide a new system of values. On the
other hand, he may be described as pushing oppositions to extremes and as
creating dilemmas, situations in which neither of the two opposites is helpful.
We have seen above that it is a form of deconstructing imperial behaviour
to characterize the social logic as destroyed.92 Such a perversion of norms can
be understood as a reversal of vice and virtue. The institution that generates
perverted norms best is the business of the accusers. Its effects are described
in terms of an inversion of oppositions: poor men become rich (ex pauperibus
divites), despised men become fearful (ex contemptis metuendi), and they bring
ruin first to others and finally to themselves (perniciem aliis ac postremum sibi
invenere) (Ann. 1.74.3). The system of delationes makes it impossible to distin-
guish between things that usually can and must be distinguished: one could not
distinguish outsiders from family members (neque discerneres alienos a coni-
unctis), friends from strangers (amicos ab ignotis), recent acts from those of the
dimly remembered past (quid repens aut vetustate obscurum) (Ann. 6.7.3). The
system of delatores results in a lack of clear distinctions between stable oppos-
itions, and so in a lack of orientation.

89 By contrast, when Nero is described as soiled by things both permitted and not permitted
(per licita atque inlicita foedatus, Ann. 15.37.4), this polarized expression is used to convey
his unlimited debauchery.
90 See Rees 2001: Pliny’s Trajan unites the paradoxes of pudor and securitas, he is both com-
milito and imperator, privatus and princeps, optimus and aequatus. Cf. Braund 1998, 63–65
on Pliny’s depiction of Trajan as divine and not-divine.
91 Cf. Hutchinson 2011, 132 on “the paradoxical sublime which Trajan embodies, a sublime
based on his denial of the sublime”.
92 See p.127–129.
creating uncertainty 153

The deconstruction of social norms as attributed to the accusers, among

others, and to Tacitus’ bad emperors results in an atmosphere of instability
and relativity, in which the oppositions of ‘normal’ and ‘abnormal’ are impli-
citly deconstructed too. This is the case when the narrator makes something
seem normal that should be an exception, something that should be abnor-
mal, because it ought to be evaluated as bad from the point of view of the
prevailing social standards. The impression of the normality of bad things is
achieved mainly by repetitions and monotony,93 especially when depicting
murders (Ann. 15.60; 15.69).94 Tacitus makes this sort of monotony explicit
when he apologizes for it (Ann. 16.16.1), or when he assumes that the reader
needs some diversion from his depiction of a series of murder victims in Rome
(Ann. 6.38.1). But it is also achieved by other forms of wording, for example
when the murder of Junius Silanus is nonchalantly introduced as the first
death of the new principate of Nero (prima novo principatu mors, Ann. 13.1.1),
implying that there were deaths before and there will be deaths afterwards.95
A complementary technique to mentioning several instances of bad beha-
viour that should be abnormal is to give only one negative example of things
that have become normal although they ought to be exceptions. The negat-
ive example then stands for all the other negative examples that could be
mentioned too, as in the banquet of Tigellinus (ut exemplum referam, Ann.
15.37.1).96
Normality is also stylized as abnormal when normal things are mentioned
and their exceptionality is pointed out. One positive instance indicates all the
negative examples that are not mentioned, but which have to be assumed as the
foil against which the positive example is seen. Things that should be normal
are pointed out for their singularity; what should not be normal appears com-
mon. In this sense Tacitus points out that true feelings are displayed after Ger-
manicus’ death (nihil compositum in ostentationem, Ann. 2.82.3), that Tiberius
stuck to the truth (neque dempsit aut addidit vero, Ann. 3.47.1), that someone
died a natural death (Ann. 6.10.3), and that Memmius Regulus, a potential rival
of Nero’s, was not killed by him (Ann. 14.47.1). The exceptionality of something

93 Cf. Walker 1952, 36; O’Gorman 2000, 145–146.

94 The impression of continued, numerous, or repeated murder and dying is also achieved
e.g. at Ann. 6.19.2 (iacuit immensa strages, omnis sexus, omnis aetas, inlustres ignobiles, dis-
persi aut aggerati); Ann. 6.29.1 (at Romae caede continua).
95 See also p.92–93 on the dynamics of bad times.
96 The formulation ut exemplum referam further strengthens the impression of exemplarity,
since in the Annals it appears only here. Cf. Woodman 1998, 171–172: “This statement, with
its combination of the noun exemplum and a first-person verb, is unique in the Annals”.
Cf. my close reading of this passage on p.71–72.
154 chapter 5

that should be normal for an emperor need not be stated explicitly: narrative
order too can single out a positive event and embed it in a negative context
or chain of events, from which it provides only brief relief. After a series of sad
events in book 4 follows one pleasant event (C. Cominius, Ann. 4.31.1), in which
Tiberius is presented positively. After the narrator’s thoughts on historiography
and the episode of Cremutius Cordus (Ann. 4.32–35), the series of accusations
continues again (Ann. 4.36.1). Tiberius is also depicted in a positive light after a
fire (Ann. 6.45), but as negative directly afterwards, when electing successors
(Ann. 6.46). After the exceptionally positive event involving Thrasea’s liber-
tas, which breaks the other senators’ servility (Ann. 14.49.1), there follow only
extremely bad events, namely the death of Burrus, the downfall of Seneca, the
death of Sulla and Plautus, the exile and death of Octavia. The atmosphere cre-
ated in the text is never really ‘closed’.
Whereas in the cases just discussed regular social oppositions are destroyed
and have become dysfunctional, the second strategy of critique involving
oppositions is based on maintaining oppositions but taking them to extremes,
and on the dilemmas they create. In some instances, neither of two oppositions
or extremes is helpful, which only underlines the hopelessness of a situation.
With respect to Tacitus’ Tiberius, we learn, neither being good nor being bad is
helpful, since Tiberius feared danger for himself from the best people and dis-
grace to the state from the worst (ex optimis periculum sibi, a pessimis dedecus
publicum metuebat, Ann. 1.80.2). Tacitus’ Tiberius fears liberty and hates flattery
(sub principe, qui libertatem metuebat, adulationem oderat, Ann. 2.87), which
creates a dilemma over how to communicate with him.97 With regard to Nero
the senate and the most eminent citizens are depicted as uncertain whether
Nero should be considered fiercer when he is far away or when he is close
(senatus et primores in incerto erant, procul an coram atrocior haberetur, Ann.
15.36.4). In the end, they consider the worse to be what actually happened. The
opposition of ‘present’ and ‘absent’ here underlines the desperation of the sen-
ate facing the princeps. The dilemma cannot be solved. Nero is bad no matter
whether he is present or absent.

3.2 Between ‘Good’ and ‘Bad’

Especially when the binary system of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ is weakened to the point
of non-existence, this causes uncertainty, since the demonstration of the lack
of absolute virtue and vice in the text makes it more difficult to find moral ori-
entation. There is no doubt in panegyrical literature: Nero and Domitian are

97 Cf. p.95 n.6.

creating uncertainty 155

absolutely perfect and good.98 By contrast, there is no absolute ‘goodness’ or

‘badness’ in Tacitus. At several places the text points both explicitly and impli-
citly to the relativity of virtues, of concepts of ‘good’ and ‘bad’. The atmosphere
in the Annals is influenced by this depiction of virtues as something unstable.99
They are depicted as relative over time. Something that was done well in the
past is not appreciated forever, for example when emotions about a person
change. ‘Good’ and ‘bad’ then appear as relative concepts that depend on feel-
ings. Thus, once Galba is hated, both his good and his bad deeds prompt a
negative attitude towards him (et inviso semel principi seu bene seu male facta
parem invidiam adferebant, Hist. 1.7.2). His severity (severitas) is re-coded in
combination with love for Nero’s vitia: it was once a quality admired and set
high in soldiers’ estimation (laudata olim et militari fama celebrata), but now it
only annoys troops whose contempt for the old discipline had been fostered
by fourteen years of service under Nero, so that they had come to love the
emperors’ vices as much as they had formerly feared their virtues: angebat
aspernantes veterem disciplinam atque ita quattuordecim annis a Nerone adsue-
factos, ut haud minus vitia principum amarent quam olim virtutes verebantur
(Hist. 1.5.2). Even a figure like Agrippina can appear positive after her death.100
Her influence on Nero is seen in hindsight as something not only negative, since
his timidity before her had also repressed his wantonness (Ann. 14.13.2). And for
Octavia the time when Agrippina was still alive appears preferable afterwards,
because then at least she herself had been able to stay alive (et postremo Agrip-
pinae nomen cieret, qua incolumi infelix quidem matrimonium, sed sine exitio
pertulisset, Ann. 14.64.1).
The disconcertion that this depiction of virtuous instability entails is sup-
ported by two narrative strategies, namely by an effective, disconcerting dis-
position and by the depiction of the relationship of speaker and content as dis-
concerting. Using both devices the text may show—often unexpectedly—that
someone or something who is considered mostly bad is not only or always so,
and the same is true for cases of being good. The text builds up patterns of inter-
pretation and breaks them abruptly. This creates rather than resolves tensions,
and works against the ‘closure’ of the text. That Nero is not only negative can

98 At least when we assume a ‘preferred reading’, cf. p.40.

99 Cf. p.90–93 on the atmosphere in the Tacitean text as opposed to panegyrical literature
and p.127–129 on the depiction of perverted social norms.
100 Especially someone’s death can be a turning point, as in the case of Vitellius, who is
recoded by the people after he died: et vulgus eadem pravitate insectabatur interfectum
qua foverat viventem (“and the mob abused him in his death with the same perverseness
with which they had flattered him in his lifetime”, Hist. 3.85.1).
156 chapter 5

be seen in the reactions after his death (Hist. 1.4.2; 1.8.2; 1.13.4). We also notice
when not every opportunity for critique is seized by the narrator. The shameful
appearance by aristocrats in the arena, for example, is not accompanied by cri-
ticism of Nero (Ann. 15.32).101 In general, the disposition of the text makes the
attitude towards a person, for example Nero, change during and following the
reading process: in the depiction of Narcissus’ death, we are first reminded of
his struggle with Agrippina (de cuius iurgiis adversus Agrippinam rettuli, Ann.
13.1.3). Mentioning his pitiful imprisonment and his extreme sufferings before
his sudden death makes him appear miserable. That his murder (formulated
in the passive voice) was against Nero’s will (invito principe, Ann. 13.1.3) hence
casts Nero in a favourable light. But the sentence is not yet finished, and the
following relative clause provides us with a reason for Nero’s sympathy that
changes Nero’s positive image just mentioned: Narcissus’ avarice and extravag-
ance were admirably suited to Nero’s then still hidden vices (abditis adhuc vitiis,
Ann. 13.1.3). This radically alters the reader’s impression of Nero within a single
sentence.
The ambivalence of Tacitus’ Tiberius, too, is brought out by the disposition
of the narrative. His management of affairs after the earthquake in Sardis is
depicted as good (Ann. 2.47), and even in treason trials his behaviour can be
positive (Ann. 2.50). But these two instances of Tiberius as a good emperor are
positioned within the narrative of Germanicus’ death (cf. Ann. 2.42.1), which,
as Tacitus insidiously suggests, was organized by Tiberius.102 This embedding
of positive examples into a negative context seems inconsistent and causes
disconcertion. The same technique is applied in the narrative of the events
following the downfall of Sejanus. At a time when nothing could be more dan-
gerous than friendship with Sejanus a Roman knight, who is accused of this
friendship, dares to confess it openly (Ann. 6.8).103 The reader must be discon-
certed by its outcome: the effect of his firm speech, which is acknowledged
because it expresses what everyone thinks, is that his accusers are punished
(Ann. 6.9.1). Illuminating the success of free speech and friendship with ref-
erence to Sejanus, of all people, is disconcerting at this point in the narrat-
ive and prevents closure with regard to the impression the text leaves about
Sejanus.
Disconcerting too is the position of Tacitus’ “clearest warning against belief
in rumour”,104 uttered while defending Tiberius and Sejanus, an at best ambi-

101 Cf. p.75 on the Iuvenalia (Ann. 14.15.1).

102 Cf. p.122 on focalization, see also p.139–140.
103 For the danger of Sejanus’ friendship see also Ann. 13.45.1.
104 Develin 1983, 77.
creating uncertainty 157

valent and a negative figure, against a rumour concerning the death of Drusus,
a rather positive figure (Ann. 4.10–11). It is already remarkable that Tacitus
chooses this of all rumours to voice his concern over them. But the discon-
certion does not stop at the inconsistent relationship of the people involved
and their defence. What is more, we can read this warning against rumour
as failing to provide a standard for distinguishing rumour from truth, which
it nevertheless purports to be.105 The rumour to be refuted is absurd from the
beginning, its refutation is therefore almost too easy (haec vulgo iactata … facile
refutaveris, Ann. 4.11.1). The refutation of the rumour almost deconstructs itself.
This section of text, which purports to help the reader distinguish true from
false rumours, only augments the disconcertion over the role of rumours. It
raises, rather than answers, questions about rumours, which makes the passage
much more ‘open’ than ‘closed’.106
Besides the disposition of the narrative or the position of a statement by the
narrator within the narrative, the words and speeches of a figure in the narrat-
ive may be inconsistent and disconcerting. Sometimes they are not in accord
with the overall picture that the narrator draws of that person. When Tacitus’
Tiberius claims that what an emperor does and how he acts is more import-
ant for his memory than monuments built of stone (haec mihi in animis vestra
templa, hae pulcherrimae effigies et mansurae, Ann. 4.38.2), it is surprising that
Tiberius of all people thereby reminds the reader of the famous end of the Agri-
cola in which Tacitus himself prefers mental images and morals over images
of marble and bronze: … non quia intercedendum putem imaginibus quae mar-
more aut aere finguntur, sed ut vultus hominum, ita simulacra vultus imbecilla
ac mortalia sunt, forma mentis aeterna, quam tenere et exprimere non per ali-
enam materiam et artem, sed tuis ipse moribus possis (“… not because I think
that any statues in marble or bronze should be banned. But, like the human
face itself, images of the face are weak and perishable. The beauty of the soul
lives forever, and you can preserve and express that beauty not by the material
and artistry of another, but only in your own character”, Agr. 46.3).107 There are
also examples in the Histories: that the principate under Vespasian is restricted
in its freedom (modum libertatis, Hist. 4.8.4) is a reasonable statement, but it
is uttered by the disagreeable Eprius Marcellus in a speech against Helvidius

105 See Ries 1969, 184–186, who argues that Tacitus demonstrates his critical method on a case
which is not worth the effort, as well as being too easy to refute (cf. Ann. 4.11.1), and hence
not suitable to provide readers with a general device for evaluating rumour.
106 Cf. Hardie 2009, 569 on Ann. 3.19.2, similarly showing that the rumours about Germanicus’
death counteract the ‘closure’ of his death.
107 For the imago vitae cf. also Tacitus’ Seneca at the moment of his death in Ann. 15.62.1.
158 chapter 5

Priscus. That Tacitus has this sentiment advanced by a speaker who cannot be
favoured by the reader at this point of the narrative potentially causes discon-
certion.
At the other extreme, there is no absolute goodness, or—if we take Agricola
and also Germanicus into account—no goodness without danger.108 Goodness
and virtue only exist at high risk to one’s life. Agricola is the only clear role
model in Tacitus’ texts (Agr. 4.3), something that of course also depends on the
genre of biography. The Agricola develops a model of good behaviour towards a
bad princeps (Agr. 42.3–4): we have already seen that Agricola’s self-controlled
moderation (moderatio) and practical judgment (prudentia) constantly mitig-
ated Domitian’s anger (ira) (Agr. 42.3).109 This conduct is opposed to provok-
ing fame and fate by defiance and an empty parade of freedom. Generalizing
from the individual Agricola, Tacitus claims that compliance (obsequium) and
moderation (modestia) in combination with assiduity (industria) and activity
(vigor) lead to the same praise (laus) that most people achieve by perilous paths
and an ostentatious death (ambitiosa mors)—without any utility to the state
(Agr. 42.4). Tacitus here probably has the Stoic martyrs in mind when creating
a contrast to Agricola’s useful and selfless behaviour.110 In general, martyrs are
criticized as selfish. Helvidius Priscus is criticized (rudem Helvidii sapientiam,
Dial. 5.7), though so are the senators for their guilt regarding the death and exile
of the younger Helvidius (son of the famous Helvidius Priscus), Junius Mauri-
cus, Junius Arulenus Rusticus, and Herennius Senecio, which Tacitus regards
as a sign of the degradation of Domitian’s reign. Piso, the head of the conspir-
acy against Nero, is at least an ambivalent, if not a negative character (Ann.
15.48; 59; 65). Senators around Nero are criticized also after his death when
they behave too licentiously (Hist. 1.4.3). Good and bad can no longer be clearly
assigned to particular people.111 The question of how to behave in the princip-
ate has become extremely complex.112 Many questions are unanswered; there
is no satisfying closure in the remaining books.

108 Heldmann 1991, 218–230 argues for Thrasea Paetus as a real role model for a senator, such
as Agricola is for a military leader. However, the three objections against Thrasea’s status
as a role model that he rejects (Thrasea is a self-righteous critic of the senatorial order;
Thrasea concentrates too much on unimportant issues; Thrasea is led too much by per-
sonal ambitions) have to be taken seriously. Even if the positive aspects of Thrasea prevail
in the end, certain possible objections are still part of this Tacitean picture of him.
109 See p.98–99.
110 Cf. Woodman 2014, 303.
111 Cf. O’Gorman 2000, 154 on “the absence of distinction between good and bad throughout
Nero’s reign”.
112 Vielberg 1987 argues that an analysis of Tacitean norms and values helps reconstruct
creating uncertainty 159

4 Uncertainty and Interpretation

Our analysis has shown that the text employs strategies of disconcertion that
guide, influence, and disappoint the reader in her reading process. This in-
cludes the depiction of imperial representation and its deconstruction. The
‘facts’ that the text provides and their interpretation or the impression they
leave often do not coincide.113 The questions posed in the work are not really
answered, tensions are created, not released, and conflicts are constructed
more than resolved.114 Tacitus does not aim at an impression of ‘closure’. The
way in which Tacitus presents his ‘facts’, his interpretations, his comments, his
speeches, and his rumours115 rather cause uncertainty and doubt.116 That these
strategies are not applied regularly is itself a method of disconcertion, and part
of the play with the dialectic of aperture and closure. There are certain tenden-
cies, as we have seen, but there is no strict scheme or pattern to which of two
alternatives will disconcert, or which bad figure at which point in the narrative
will be given a positive twist. To show that nothing is ever certain all the time,
would be to subscribe to a sort of total uncertainty that might present another,
though perverted, form of certainty. In Tacitus, there is not even the certainty
of uncertainty: to establish certainty first and then to confirm it sometimes

Tacitus’ idea of how the senators should behave: their actions and behaviour should
bring profit to society, and retain or gain dignity and glory. Tacitus, so Vielberg 1987, 179–
180, is against a merely opportunistic attitude and favours senators with an oppositional
attitude. Cf. the analysis of the Tacitean Thrasea Paetus by Heldmann 1991, as already
mentioned, according to whom this figure illustrates the right way to act as a senator:
“nämlich das gewiß bescheidene Gewicht des Senats wo immer möglich zur Geltung zu
bringen—durch eine wohlüberlegte Verbindung von Standfestigkeit in prinzipiellen Fra-
gen der politischen Moral mit der Bereitschaft zu Zugeständnissen an die politischen
Realitäten des Prinzipats” (Heldmann 1991, 229).
113 On the discrepancy between fact and impression see Walker 1952, 82 and Pelling 2009b,
161, who points out that “[g]auging ‘impression’ against ‘fact’ is here an important part of
the thoughtful reader’s task”. On the discrepancy of facts and interpretations in the nar-
rative see Pelling 2009b, 160.
114 For these criteria of ‘closure’ in a literary work see, again, Fowler 1997, 3.
115 In his analysis of rumours in Tacitus, briefly mentioned above, Gibson 1998, 123 under-
lines “that perceptions can be just as important as more concrete realities in determining
subsequent events”, but he presents the “possible objection (…) that there are many other
rumours given by Tacitus where no causal role seems indicated”. In my reading of Tacitus,
this is not a possible objection but supports both Gibson’s and my argument. The fact that
sometimes rumours play a causal role in the narrative and sometimes they do not, has a
disconcerting effect on the reader.
116 Similarly, Grethlein 2013, e.g. 166–167 speaks of the strong effect of the ambiguity of the
Tacitean text, partly against Sailor 2008.
160 chapter 5

and break with it at others, makes the sense of doubt even greater. Orientation
is harder for the reader to gain when regular patterns build up expectations
only to be sometimes fulfilled and sometimes not. Patterns of interpretation
are not completely destroyed, but they are always open to being tested. They
have not become completely useless or turned into their opposites, but they
are unstable and deficient. Tacitus presents, to use Froma Zeitlin’s words in her
analysis of Petronius, “integral emblems of a world-view that expresses a con-
sistent vision of disintegration”.117 If the principal quality of Tacitus really is
distrust,118 he invites the reader too to distrust, not only history as such but also
the writing of history and one’s own conclusions. This is not to say that we can-
not draw certain conclusions about Tacitus’ concept of history, his norms and
attitudes towards politics,119 but even scholars who optimistically do so have
to admit that Tacitus’ perspectives for political activity are interwoven with a
deeply sceptical attitude and by many dissonances.120 Tacitus has not hidden a
truth behind his story, or his true opinion behind his complex style in order for
the reader to reconstruct precisely this one truth or opinion.121 He has, rather,
created a text that disconcerts the reader and forces her to come to her own
conclusions and opinions.
Tacitus’ characteristic style and structure support the effect of disconcer-
tion. I would just like to point out two elements of this style that help to
create ambiguity in the text: brevity, achieved for example by asyndeta and
the absence of explicit links, and variety122 or inconcinnity.123 The brevitas

117 Zeitlin 1999, 2.

118 See Syme 1958, 398.
119 See e.g. Vielberg 1987; Heldmann 1991.
120 See, for example, Heldmann 1991, 230, who on the one hand argues that Tacitus now and
again still sees opportunities for political action in the principate, but on the other hand
also concedes that Tacitus’ notion of history is characterized by profound scepticism and
many dissonances.
121 For this position see Pelling 2009b, 164 about Tacitus’ own interpretations: “We may feel
uneasy with them, but Tacitus has built up sufficient authorial credit that we still pay them
respect—and we respect, too, a writer who feels such emotional engagement with his
story that he keeps wrestling so hard to expose a hidden truth”; and Rutledge 2009, 429
on reconstructing Tacitus’ own opinion: “the recovery of his opinions is not easy, since
his language and presentation are often clouded by ambiguity and doublespeak”. See also
Levick 2012, 278: “Tacitus struggled for truth”.
122 For studying variety in Tacitus Sörbom 1935 is still helpful as a compendium. He focuses on
all sorts of variations in Tacitus’ style: words, numerals, adjectives/participles, tenses, con-
structions. Oakley 2009, 198 defines variatio as “the deliberate changing of grammatical
or syntactical construction without there being any need to do so”. Aubrion 1985, 48–49
points out that variatio allows for different perspectives.
123 Hellegouarc’h 1991, 2411 attributes the abandonment of concinnitas to the influence of the
creating uncertainty 161

of the style, especially the lack of conjunctions, the use of participles, the
asyndeta, all require the reader himself to make logical connections between
statements124—a device which is also important for the deconstruction of
imperial representation through new connections of time and causality.125
Variety and inconcinnity are effectively applied, often “placed in the con-
text of otherwise balanced phrasing”.126 All these elements require a reader
to read closely, to concentrate, and to construct meaning, i.e. to interpret for
herself.127 What Siegfried Jäkel says about the language of Plato’s dialogues
holds true for Tacitus’ use of language too:128 the language use has a discon-
certing effect on the reader, who has to gain insight and knowledge through
this very language. As well as by language and style, the reader is also led
by the arrangement of the text. To the devices of disposition already men-
tioned we should add the breaking of the relationship between narrative and
the annalistic scheme. The rubric of the year provides a system of order to
an annalist, but Tacitus, though largely adhering to it (cf. Ann. 4.71.1), aban-
dons a strictly annalistic structure when his narrative demands (Ann. 6.38.1;
12.40.5).129
The uncertainty and disconcertion Tacitus causes pertains to the interpret-
ation of his whole work. Since the salient parts in which Tacitus talks about the
writing of historiography have been well studied,130 I want to draw attention

practice of declamatio, but this does not explain the function of inconcinnitas in Tacitus,
which is to cause disconcertion.
124 Cf. O’Gorman 2000, 7; 9. Hellegouarc’h 1991, 2417, discussing both the brevity and the ambi-
guity of Tacitean style, claims that “[l]e but essentiel de la brevitas est en effet de réussir,
par l’ économie des moyens linguistiques, à faire entendre plus que ce que les mots di-
sent”. To be more precise, it is not the text that means more than its words say, it is rather
the reader who is forced to understand more than the text says. For brevity as a device to
reinforce the punchline see Voss 1963, 43–47.
125 See p.124–127.
126 Oakley 2009, 199. For these Tacitean qualities (brevity, variety) as anti-Ciceronian see Mar-
tin 1981, 214.
127 Cf. O’Gorman 2000, 6; 9; Oakley 2009, 197–198.
128 See Jäkel 1986, 14.
129 For Tacitus’ variation of the standard annalistic pattern see Ginsburg 1981. Cf. also Pomeroy
2012, 145–146. For the combination of annalistic and regnal principles in Tacitus’ structure
of books in the Annals see Griffin 2009, 182, who observes that in the depiction of Claudius
and Nero the regnal principle seems more forceful than in the depiction of the preceding
emperors; book 14 and 15 start and end in the middle of the year.
130 See the introduction in Schmal 2009, 104–134. On Ann. 4.32–35 see Heldmann 1991, 210–
211; Wisse 2013; Suerbaum 1971 on Tacitus speaking through Cremutius Cordus; Sailor 2008,
250–313 on Tacitus overlapping with Cremutius Cordus. See Griffin 2009, 168–173 on divine
intervention, fate, destiny, and chance as modes of interpretation; Tacitus uses these
162 chapter 5

to passages that deal with what the historian does, as an interpreter of ‘real-
ity’, in a more subtle way. I argue that certain passages depict the process of
interpretation itself as something uncertain and disconcerting. In that sense,
interpretation is characterized as something depending less on the ‘facts’ and
more on people’s attitudes and intentions. In the context of refuting the rumour
after Drusus’ death, Tacitus comes to Tiberius’ and Sejanus’ defence (Ann. 4.10–
11). However, we have analysed it above as disconcerting that a clear statement
of truth is given in support of Tiberius and Sejanus, and that so much effort
is taken to refute an obviously false rumour. What is more, the passage also
entails a clear message about the instability of interpretation over time, when
the narrator claims that the death of the ruler is always a watershed moment,
as it makes the public talk about him more fiercely than before (atrociore sem-
per fama erga dominantium exitus, Ann. 4.11.2). Tacitus must be well aware that
he is himself constructing this atrocior fama, but by saying so he partly chal-
lenges his own interpretation. Yet instability of interpretation is not only a
matter of different times evoking different points of view, for example before
and after the death of a ruler. Piso, Galba’s preferred heir to the throne, for
example, is interpreted as either (positively) austere or (negatively) harsh at the
same time. This depends on whether people evaluate him justly or interpret
him begrudgingly, so Tacitus (aestimatione recta severus, deterius interpretan-
tibus tristior habebatur, Hist. 1.14.2). Similarly, interpretations of whether Ger-
manicus’ dead body showed signs of poisoning differ depending on people’s
attitudes. Someone who felt pity (misericordia) for Germanicus and was predis-
posed to suspicion (praesumpta suspicione) interpreted the ‘facts’ differently
(diversi interpretabantur131) from someone who tended to favour his antagon-
ist Gnaeus Calpurnius Piso ( favore in Pisonem pronior) (Ann. 2.73.4). In both
cases, the outcome of interpretation seems clear before people even start the
hermeneutic process. Their attitudes and feelings determine how they evaluate
people and events. Additionally, hermeneutic processes are depicted as defi-
cient: Tacitus’ Nero fails in his interpretation of Cornelius Sulla (Ann. 13.47.1);
people who interpret the emperor correctly, such as Agrippina and Octavia
during the murder of Britannicus (Ann. 13.16.1–4), have to conceal these inter-
pretative skills.132
The general openness, or perhaps even dilemma, of interpretation may be
best expressed in the passage directly preceding the accusation of Cremutius

modes of interpreting events inconsistently and depending on the effect they achieve.
See Griffin 2009, 174–177 on Tacitus on writing history.
131 The transmitted interpretantur would refer to historians.
132 Cf. Schulz 2015, 176–178.
creating uncertainty 163

Cordus. Tacitus here talks about possible reactions to his account of this period
by descendants of people who suffered punishment or disgrace under Tiberius.
Tacitus then moves on to people who are not connected to Tiberius’ victims
by family and discusses two alternatives of how they may interpret his text:
they may think that the misdeeds of others which are recounted and which
are similar to their own behaviour are in fact objections made against them
(ob similitudinem morum aliena malefacta sibi obiectari putent); but also when
the opposite, when glory and virtue are recounted, this may excite the same
hostility because then they think that this positive picture indicts their own
opposite qualities by too sharp a contrast (etiam gloria ac virtus infensos habet,
ut nimis et propinquo diversa arguens) (Ann. 4.33.4). The historian finds him-
self in the same dilemma of interpretation as his readers and the figures in his
narrative.133
That even interpretation has become a disconcerting method in itself, has an
effect on the reader. He is forced to see a text, a world, and a history that is some-
times explicable and sometimes not. On the one hand, he receives implicit
instructions, but on the other hand he sees how they fail to work. Disconcerting
literature disturbs.134 And Tacitus’ texts do not offer the possibility of removing
or reducing the disconcertion with comic effects and laughter, as other forms
of literature do.135 Tacitus’ disconcerted reader has to develop critical think-
ing and reach his own commentaries, answers, and reactions.136 Disconcertion
thus ideally improves the ability to learn, and may be understood as a creative
challenge.137

133 Cf. p.149–154. I am following studies that have pointed out the parallels between the his-
torian, the reader, and the figures of the narrative as interpreters of history, historiography,
and the actions described in the narrative, such as O’Gorman 2000; Haynes 2003; Greth-
lein 2013. See O’Gorman 2000, 78–105 on Tiberius as a text to be read, and Haynes 2003,
3: “My thesis is that Tacitus unifies the style and content of his historiography in order
to produce in the reader the experience of believing and understanding as the actors in
the text do.” See Grethlein 2013, 140 on Tacitus mimicking the perspective of his historical
agents and exposing the readers to the same uncertainty as the characters, which Greth-
lein refers to as a “mimetic device”; see Grethlein 2013, 154–156 on similarities between
Tacitus and Tiberius.
134 See Jäkel 1986, 9.
135 See Jäkel 1986, 15 on Menander.
136 Cf. Jäkel 1986, 12 on the recipient of ancient theatre and Simonis 2011, 204.
137 See Simonis 2011, 196 drawing on Luhmann’s systems theory, in which the ability to
become disconcerted is characteristic of a system.
Conclusion to Part 2

Tacitus offers an excellent starting point for the study of historiographical

strategies used against Nero and Domitian and of the deconstruction of forms
of their imperial representation, by which I mean those topics through which
the emperor, his entourage, or others construct an image of him, such as milit-
ary actions, building programmes, and divinity. Tacitus takes up all the histor-
ical and panegyrical topics of imperial representation and deconstructs them,
i.e. re-shapes them to negative effect, in different ways, adapting his strategies
to the existing discourses about each emperor (chapter 3). In Nero’s case, the
emperor as military leader is deconstructed as an inactive princeps absent from
war and as not fulfilling his role; in Domitian’s case, the emperor is deconstruc-
ted as a hypocrite faking military triumphs and only pretending to fulfil his
role. They are both contrasted to characters who take ideal military actions,
namely Corbulo, the loyal and active commander, and Agricola, the modest and
successful commander (chapter 3.1). Building endeavours, which are mater-
ial media of representation, are more often striking for their omission from
the historiographical texts than performative forms of representation such as
triumphs and banquets. But Nero’s activities as builder of Rome are decon-
structed as acts of transgression and destruction (chapter 3.2). Likewise, his
organization of public entertainment is described as overstepping moral and
social boundaries. With Nero the performer these boundaries, as well as the
distinction between reality and the stage, are depicted as blurred (chapter 3.3).
His performance as orator is used to unmask his good relationship with the
senate at the beginning of his reign as merely constructed by Seneca’s rhet-
oric, and to depict the unfavourable development of Nero’s independence from
his teacher (chapter 3.4). While panegyrical discourse pictures Nero and Domi-
tian as gods during their lifetime, Tacitus and the critical discourse follow the
historical decision not to make these emperors divine. By contrast to earlier
panegyric, in historiographical texts people, animals, nature, and the gods do
not acknowledge or support their divinity. They are rather depicted as either
indifferent or even hostile to the emperors (chapter 3.5). All this produces a cer-
tain atmosphere associated with the imperial reign. Whereas panegyric makes
the reign a Golden Age in Nero’s case and an epoch unequalled by any past time
in Domitian’s case, Tacitus’ texts create the atmosphere of an ever worsening
dynamic of bad times under these two emperors (chapter 3.6).
The deconstruction of these topics of imperial representation is achieved
by three main literary strategies (chapter 4). These are negative connotations,
unfavourable analyses of reasons for imperial representation, and construc-

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004407558_009

conclusion to part 2 165

tions of new forms of temporal and social logic (chapter 4.1). First, the present-
ation of ‘facts’ is most often accompanied by connotations, both directly as
comments (at a telling position in the text) and indirectly. These connota-
tions mark out a form of imperial representation as lacking moderatio and as a
hubristic transgression. They often turn around and re-interpret an earlier pan-
egyrical transgression that was evaluated positively. More specifically, they can
characterize the emperor’s behaviour and his public image as unmanly and un-
Roman, often combining the two concepts, and with a different focus for Nero
than for Domitian (chapter 4.2). The second strategy of deconstructing imper-
ial representation is based on the emperor’s reasons for his behaviour and acts,
and takes several forms. The emperor’s behaviour can be deconstructed by
negative depictions of his processes of reasoning, or by giving, suggesting, or
leaving out certain reasons for his conduct. The depiction of the relationship
between motive and action becomes persuasive through coherent character
portraits, again both explicit and implicit. The Tacitean concept of simulatio
and the narrative device of focalization play an important role in persuasive
character depiction, especially for Domitian and Tiberius (chapter 4.3). A third
literary means of deconstructing imperial representation is to show that it is
based on new kinds of temporal and social logic or on illogicality. Not only do
Tacitus’ emperors defy the logic of time. The narrator also manipulates chrono-
logy for his purposes. His emperors are also portrayed as negating social logic:
they either neglect the relationship of deed and reward, or they pervert social
norms themselves (chapter 4.4).
These strategies of deconstructing imperial representation are, however,
accompanied by a Tacitean mode of interpretative uncertainty (chapter 5).
This mode can be described with the help of modern theories of inconsist-
ency, (false) closure, and disconcertion (chapter 5.1). The fact that Tacitus gives
alternative, inconsistent versions or explanations of events, and the way he
does so, is disconcerting: the text seems to establish patterns and guidelines
for how to evaluate alternatives only to destabilize and disrupt them again. This
concerns cases in which the narrator expresses an explicit preference for one
of the alternatives mentioned, suggests an implicit preference, or refrains from
giving any preference at all. The uncertainty arising from different variants and
from the narrator’s presentation of them prevents closure (chapter 5.2). Uncer-
tainty also arises from the Tacitean use of binary oppositions (e.g. man/woman,
good/bad), which in other cases usually provide orientation. The Tacitean text
demonstrates how binary oppositions become dysfunctional both in the nar-
rative, through the emperors depicted, and within the interpretation of the
narrator himself. Distinctions such as ‘good’ and ‘bad’ are not clear and are
often blurred, with a disconcerting effect (chapter 5.3). The effect of uncer-
166 conclusion to part 2

tainty inherent to the text, the unstable patterns of interpretation, and the lack
of closure affect the reading process and the reader of Tacitean texts too. This
becomes especially evident in passages in which Tacitus describes hermen-
eutic processes (chapter 5.4).
 part 3
Cassius Dio: Deconstruction and Typologies

∵
Introduction to Part 3

The purpose of this third part of the book is to analyse the strategies and func-
tions of the deconstruction of Nero’s and Domitian’s imperial representation
in Cassius Dio’s Roman History. To do so, we will study both the literary tech-
niques of this work and the socio-political discourses of the early third century
in which it participates. I will argue that Dio’s mode of deconstruction, his way
of reshaping formerly positive or neutral constructions of emperors, produces
typologies of bad emperors—from the beginning of the principate to Dio’s own
days—which offer an alternative to the genealogical constructions of Dio’s con-
temporary emperors. This Dionian deconstruction is not accompanied by the
uncertainty and disconcertion that is typical of Tacitus.
By analysing Dio’s strategies of deconstruction, part Three of this book
presents the first systematic analysis of literary techniques in the Roman His-
tory.1 With its focus on Julio-Claudian and Flavian times it discusses one of
the least studied sections of the work’s 80 books.2 Dio’s account of Nero’s and
Domitian’s reigns have both survived only in the form of Byzantine epitomes
and fragments; the extant text on Nero is more than three times longer than the
one on Domitian and hence provides more examples for this study.3 Compared
to Tacitus, Dio’s literary accounts are nonetheless more complete: we still have
the depiction of Domitian’s reign (which is lost in the Histories) and of Nero’s
reign after Thrasea’s death (where the Annals break off).
Chapter 6 situates the Roman History in contemporary literary and socio-
political discourses, which are crucial to understanding Dio’s mode of decon-
struction, and presents an overview of imperial representation, i.e. the creation
of an imperial image by the emperor, his entourage (e.g. advisers), or others,
and its transgressive forms in the work. It also makes use of current approaches
in scholarship on Dio, which has not only increased enormously in the last

1 Cf. the overview of scholarship on Cassius Dio in e.g. Martinelli 1999; Kuhn-Chen 2002, 34–37.
Cassius Dio has been consulted most often by historians in order to gain information about
a specific detail or question concerning a certain event, and only rarely by philologists inter-
ested in him as a writer.
2 The Augustan and contemporary books have received most attention. Kemezis 2014, who
offers the most recent interpretation of Dio’s whole Roman History in its Severan context,
focuses on the late Republican and Augustan books (see e.g. Kemezis 2014, 91; 103).
3 I have used the edition of Boissevain (1895–1901) and the Loeb translation of Cary 1925, often
in an adapted version, for paraphrases, as well as current Loeb translations of other authors.
For the book numbering of Dio see p.176.

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170 introduction to part 3

decade, but has also altered some of its old premises.4 Chapter 7 analyses
the strategies by which Cassius Dio deconstructs imperial representation. It
presents all the sub-strategies, methods, and concepts that comprise the toolkit
of deconstruction. Dio makes use of these strategies more often than Tacitus.
The focus will be on Nero and Domitian. However, to bring out the typologies
of bad emperors, we will also look at passages in which Dio deals with imperial
representation from a theoretical viewpoint (such as the constitutional debate
in book 52), and we will give examples of the deconstruction of the imperial
representation of Dio’s contemporary emperors such as Commodus, Septimius
Severus, Caracalla, and Elagabalus and of earlier emperors such as Tiberius and
Caligula. This is important from a methodological point of view: the accounts
of Tiberius and Caligula survive in their original form and so provide a suit-
able point of comparison for the results gained from epitomized text passages.
Part Three will thus bring out the specifically Dionian mode of deconstruc-
tion, but will also refer to the results of the analysis of Tacitean deconstruction
(as presented in chapter 4): it will study the negative connotations of imperial
representation, the creation of persuasive characters, the rhetoric of combin-
ation (e.g. of action and motivation or of several actions), the mechanisms of
selecting and focusing on certain forms of imperial representation, and how
the atmosphere of a reign, depicted as positive in the panegyrical discourse,
is undermined in the text. Chapter 8 makes explicit the typologies produced
by deconstruction. Drawing on modern theories of collective memory I will
argue that Nero and Domitian were ‘hot memory’ in the early third century:
Dio’s deconstruction and creation of typologies oppose the imperial genealo-
gies constructed by Severan emperors, whose depiction in Cassius Dio will be
studied in this third part too.

4 See in particular the volumes of Lange/Madsen 2016; Fromentin et al. 2016; Burden-Strevens/
Lindholmer 2019.
 chapter 6

Writing Historiography under the Severans

1 The Roman History and the Early Third Century

1.1 Author, Text, and Language

As well as Tacitus’ negative verdict on Nero and Domitian, we also find posit-
ive and ambivalent evaluations of these two emperors in the second and third
century, even among the elite.1 Pausanias contends that Nero had a noble soul
(ψυχῆς δὲ γενναίας) that was ruined by a perverted education.2 Philostratus eval-
uates Nero’s project of the Corinth canal and his proclamation of the freedom
of Achaea as (somewhat) positive.3 Domitian is portrayed as simply a dull fig-
ure in Jewish-Christian texts such as the Fifth Sibylline Oracle and the Gospel
of Luke, and even as a good emperor in the Twelfth Sibylline Oracle (12Sib 124–
142).4 The negotiations over the image of Nero and Domitian were still ongoing
in the two centuries after Tacitus and Suetonius. One of the most important
texts that participates in these discourses is Cassius Dio’s Roman History. If we
wish to interpret the specificity of the depiction of Nero and Domitian and
their imperial representation in this work, we need to be informed about its
background: its Severan author, its textual transmission, and its linguistic and
cultural context.
Cassius Dio was from Bithynia. He was born, the son of a Roman senator,
at the beginning of the reign of Marcus Aurelius around 164CE and may have
been a relative of Dio of Prusa.5 Dio most probably received rhetorical training
for his career as a senator.6 By 180 CE he was in the city of Rome. After around

1 For positive discourses on Nero and Domitian see also p.45–46.

2 See Paus. 7.17.3 with Alcock 1994, 107.
3 Cf. Champlin 2003, 27 on Philostr. VA 5.7 and 5.41. On Nero in the third century cf. Gowing
1997, 2559.
4 The Twelfth Sibylline Oracle is difficult to date; the death of Severus Alexander is the terminus
post quem. Cf. Sidebottom 2007, 66–67; Backhaus 2014, 392.
5 For introductions to Cassius Dio’s life and work see e.g. Schwartz 1899/1957, 394–406; Mil-
lar 1964, 5–27; Barnes 1984, 242–245; Wirth 1985, 7–60; Rich 1990, 1–12; Hose 1994, 356–363;
Schmidt 1997, 2592–2598; 2634–2638; Scott 2015, 170–174. See also the overview in Swan 2004,
1–3.
6 For the rhetoric of the time see Swain 1996, 91; Heath 2004, 3–89. Important rhetorical devel-
opments include the progymnasmata, the development of status theory by Hermogenes in
the second half of the second century, and the declamations. On the influence of rhetorical
education on Dio see Lintott 1997, 2501. For speeches in Cassius Dio see Millar 1961, 14–15. For

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172 chapter 6

10 years he became a member of the senate as quaestor under Commodus,

probably in 189 CE. In 193CE he was designated praetor under the emperor Per-
tinax and held the office probably in 194CE. In the civil war between Septimius
Severus and Clodius Albinus, whom he favoured, he first adopted a neutral atti-
tude, but later he praised Septimius Severus in two short works.7 We know that
Dio was a member of Septimius Severus’ consilium in 204CE and consul (suf-
fectus) for the first time probably in 205 or 206 CE under the same emperor.
In 214/215 CE he was in Nicomedia with Caracalla, but he went back to Rome
during the reign of Macrinus and at the beginning of Elagabalus’ principate in
217–218 CE. Afterwards and still during the reign of Elagabalus he was governor
in Pergamon and Smyrna, and in Bithynia (possibly in 221–222CE), and under
Severus Alexander proconsul of Africa (perhaps in 223/224CE) and imperial
legate in Dalmatia and Upper Pannonia (probably in 224 and 228CE), where
his rigorous discipline over the troops stirred the rage of the Praetorian Guard.
Consequently, he held his second consulship outside Rome, in 229CE, together
with Severus Alexander. He retired at the age of around 65 and returned to his
home in Nicaea after he had spent roughly 22 years altogether in the city of
Rome.8
As we can see from this short summary, Dio’s life as active Roman politician
fell under the end of Antonine rule and the Severan dynasty.9 With that new
regime the political circumstances changed, as dynastic rule was re-introduced.
Cassius Dio has long been read as an exceptional politician who criticizes
the Severan dynasty—which is assumed to have downgraded and neglected
the senators in favour of the knights, the army, and the freedmen—from an
insider’s point of view and as the mouthpiece of the senate.10 But recent schol-

speeches in books 51–56 cf. Swan 2004, 26–28. For the rhetorical background of speeches
in Cassius Dio see Burden-Strevens 2016; Fomin 2016; Bellissime 2016.
7 Dio integrated these two works, which probably date from 197/198CE, into the Roman
History. He explains how he compiled his work in an important passage preceding the nar-
rative of the death of Commodus (73[72].23.1–5): first, he had written a piece about dreams
and omens for Septimius Severus’ reign, which was warmly welcomed by the first Severan
emperor; second, he was the author of a work on the civil war following Commodus’ death,
which later also found its way into the Roman History. Dio did not change these two earlier
works much when he integrated them into the Roman History (cf. Schmidt 1999, 95). For
more detail see Schmidt 1997, 2598–2625. Cf. Bleicken 1962, 465; Barnes 1984, 245–246;
Swan 2004, 29.
8 Cf. Gowing 2016, 117.
9 Introductions to the Severan period and its culture are provided by e.g. Grant 1996;
Swain/Harrison/Elsner 2007; Handy 2009 (on the Severans and the army); Faust/Leitmeir
2011 (from an archaeological perspective); Schöpe 2014 (on the imperial court).
10 Cf. Bleicken 1962, 455; 458; de Blois 1984, 373–377.
writing historiography under the severans 173

arship has modified this assertion in three ways. First, we have to be careful
not to underestimate the historical role of the Severan senate.11 The senate was
still the institution that gave authority to the emperor.12 Second, this senate
was not a unified group that spoke with one voice.13 It is therefore not unprob-
lematic to speak of Cassius Dio as a ‘typical senator’ or to consider him the
spokesperson of the senate.14 The latter would also be difficult since, third, Dio’s
career was less exceptional than scholarship has thought for several decades.
He was indeed consul suffectus, a member of Septimius Severus’ consilium, in
Nicomedia together with Caracalla, and consul with Severus Alexander. But
this career is not enough to support the high political position that has been
claimed for him. Cassius Dio was in fact not as intimate with Septimius Severus
as has long been assumed.15 He was not close to Caracalla either.16
All these emperors are dealt with in Cassius Dio’s main work, his 80 books
of Roman History, which reach from Rome’s foundation to the reign of Severus
Alexander.17 The Roman History is written from the point of view of a senator

11 Cf. Davenport 2012, 798; 803–808; 815.

12 Cf. de Blois 1999, 269; Gleason 2011, 67 for the relationship of senators and emperors. Mad-
sen 2016, 149–154 examines Dio’s depiction of the relationship between the senate and the
emperors from Vespasian to Septimius Severus.
13 On the division among the senators cf. Davenport 2012, 811–815. On Dio’s tendency to even
out senatorial divisions cf. Kemezis 2014, 22–23 (“Dio exaggerates the extent to which all
senators would agree with his arguments”). Kemezis 2012 analyses a division within the
senatorial elite, which does not feature in Cassius Dio, see esp. Kemezis 2012, 387–388; 410–
414. He detects this division from the difference between the aristocratic ethos in Cassius
Dio and the aristocratic ethos expressed in the Historia Augusta, which Kemezis reads as
an expression of the senator Marius Maximus (see Kemezis 2012, 409).
14 Davenport 2012, 797; 799; 803; 811 convincingly advises against viewing Dio as the mouth-
piece of all senators. On Dio’s distanced attitude towards senators, esp. homines novi,
who had a better relationship with the princeps than he himself cf. Davenport 2012, 798;
808–811; 814. Even Scott, arguing (in reaction to Davenport 2012) that Dio “provides a gen-
erally accurate account that reflects senatorial experience” under Caracalla (Scott 2015,
175), allows for differing senatorial opinions and characterizes Dio’s version of a senator’s
life under Caracalla as “likely typical of most senators” (Scott 2015, 159), “hardly atypical”
(Scott 2015, 161), applying “to most, if not all, senators at the time” (Scott 2015, 162), “most
likely reflective of the overall senatorial experience of Caracalla” (Scott 2015, 167) (all italics
mine).
15 See Moscovich 2004, 358.
16 See Davenport 2012, 799–803 for Dio’s relationship with Septimius Severus and Caracalla.
Cf. Kemezis 2014, 142 on Dio’s anecdotes about himself and contemporary emperors: “Dio
does not emerge from these anecdotes as a privileged political insider, nor does he mean
readers to see him as such.”
17 It must be doubted whether the two other works on Trajan and Arrian that the Suda
ascribes to Cassius Dio are really his. Cf. Sidebottom 2007, 56; 59–60.
174 chapter 6

who considers the principate to be the best form of government possible for
Rome.18 An important passage for understanding Dio’s ideal form of monarch-
ical rule is the famous constitutional debate in book 52, in which his Agrippa
argues for democracy and his Maecenas for monarchy:19 what the figure of
Maecenas says about (ideal) monarchy and imperial representation can be
used as a point of reference for statements about Dio’s emperors in general.
Here and throughout the whole work, Dio judges emperors from the perspect-
ive of a senator who is proud of the senatorial order and who cares about
the honours attributed to himself and to the senate.20 In Dio’s view, a good
emperor treats not only the senators well, but also the people.21 Dio’s attitude
towards the soldiers, however, is negative. This is mirrored in what he con-
siders the emperor’s ideal form of behaviour towards them: the emperor should
be severe, and tough in discipline.22 Dio’s ideal emperor is Marcus Aurelius,
who receives a long eulogy after his death (72[71].34.2–36.4).23 Pertinax’ short

18 Cf. Flach 1973, 133; Manuwald 1979, 26; Ameling 1997, 2479–2482. Simons 2009, 10–12 sum-
marizes the development of scholarship on Dio’s view of monarchy. For Dio’s attitude
towards several forms of rule cf. Aalders 1986, 296–302. On Dio’s view of the Republic cf.
Fechner 1986, 129–135. Cassius Dio is clear in his repudiation of democracy (44.2.2).
19 Analyses of the speeches of Agrippa and Maecenas in book 52 are provided by Bleicken
1962, 446–464; Millar 1964, 102–118; Reinhold 1986, 219–221; Fechner 1986, 71–86; Rich 1989,
99–100; Flach 31998, 262–266; Escribano 1999, 175–184; Schmidt 1999, 104–117; Hose 1994,
390–399; Hose 2007, 466. Only Bering-Staschweski 1981, 129–134 does not see a paraenetic
function in the speech of Maecenas (but cf. Manuwald 1984, 679).
20 For Dio’s senatorial ethos cf. Flach 1973, 141–142; Gowing 1992, 19–32 (on Dio’s attitude
towards senate and emperor, his religious, philosophical, and ethical attitude, and his
thoughts about the treatment of soldiers). Kemezis 2012, 388 reconstructs Dio’s senatorial
ethos by looking at the representation of the senatorial elite in the generation preceding
Dio: “That ethos (…) is based heavily on senators’ competent performance of their offi-
cial duties, and the dignity that they derive from the exercise of power. It stresses actions
independent of the emperor, but is not an anti-monarchical construct”; cf. Kemezis 2012,
401–402; 406–407. On Dio in relation to contemporary senators cf. Gowing 1998, 381–383.
21 Cf. de Blois 1999, 272–275.
22 For Dio’s attitude towards the soldiers cf. de Blois 1984, 366–367; de Blois 1997, 2660–2675;
de Blois 1999, 275–281.
23 For Marcus Aurelius as Dio’s ideal emperor cf. de Blois 1984, 365–366; Wirth 1985, 32; Gow-
ing 1992, 26–27 (on Marcus Aurelius and Pertinax); Kuhn-Chen 2002, 243; Kemezis 2012,
387. In general, positive traits of an emperor are: tireless commitment on behalf of the
public, even if this is to his own disadvantage; incorruptibility; adherence to the judi-
cial and social norms; defending the home country against revolutions; military virtue;
putting the commonwealth before personal interests; renouncing personal enrichment;
outspokenness and loyalty; humane-ness; clemency; rationality; justice; honourable and
mild treatment of opponents; refraining from violence (see Fechner 1986, 249). For Dio’s
ideal ruler as princeps inter pares (or rather δημοτικός) cf. Flach 1973, 140 and 57.8.3 as well
writing historiography under the severans 175

reign is praised too.24 The first princeps Augustus is, all in all, positively evalu-
ated too.25 Most emperors, however, are ambivalent figures, neither completely
good nor exclusively bad. Among the worst emperors in Dio are—besides Nero
and Domitian—Caligula, Commodus, Caracalla, and Elagabalus.
The text of the Roman History presents two different challenges: the first
concerns the dating and the method of composition, the second concerns the
complex transmission of the text and its constitution today. Cassius Dio claims
that he spent ten years collecting his material from the beginning of Rome to
the death of Septimius Severus, and that it took him twelve years to compose
his work (συνέλεξα δὲ πάντα τὰ ἀπ’ ἀρχῆς τοῖς Ῥωμαίοις μέχρι τῆς Σεουήρου μετ-
αλλαγῆς πραχθέντα ἐν ἔτεσι δέκα, καὶ συνέγραψα ἐν ἄλλοις δώδεκα, 73[72].23.5).26
The dates of these two periods—of research and of composition—are de-
bated.27 There are two different approaches to dating the Roman History, which
lead either to an early or to a late dating.28 Following the early dating, Dio
composed the Roman History mainly during the reigns of Caracalla, Macrinus,
and Elagabalus. According to the late dating, Dio wrote his work under Severus
Alexander. It is important for the argumentation presented in this part Three
to stress that even an early dating allows for allusions and references to con-

as 57.9.1 (about civil behaviour by Tiberius). Traits of a bad emperor are, according to Gow-
ing 1992, 28: “inappropriate behaviour if not downright depravity, failure to listen to the
advice of others, lack of education, inability to carry out the imperial duties, contempt for
and excessive financial demands made on the Senate”.
24 For Dio on Pertinax cf. Kemezis 2012, 397–402. See especially Pertinax’ obituary, posi-
tioned before the depiction of the start of Septimius Severus’ reign (75[74].5.6).
25 Dio’s attitude towards Octavian/Augustus has been interpreted in different ways. Inter-
pretations differ depending on whether one considers Dio as a moralist or a utilitarian. A
clear break between the portrayal of Octavian and the depiction of Augustus, or tensions
and contradictions in the description of Augustus, are seen by Manuwald 1979, 273–284;
Wirth 1985, 30; Escribano 1999, 184–189; Kemezis 2014, 121–122 (who focuses on the break
between Dio’s narrative of Octavian, which belongs to the ‘Republican Narrative’, and Dio’s
narrative of Augustus, which is part of the ‘Imperial Narrative’). Rich 1990, 16 reads Dio’s
Augustus as a positive model emperor (cf. Rich 1989, 89; 94; 96–97; 101–102 for the con-
tradictions in Dio’s portrayal of Augustus according to Manuwald 1979); cf. Swan 2004,
13–17.
26 We can assume that during his period of research Dio took notes, on which he was able to
draw when writing up the narrative, cf. Rich 1989, 90–91.
27 See the overview on dating the Roman History in Kemezis 2014, 282–293.
28 Early datings (between 194 and 223CE) are favoured e.g. by Schwartz 1899/1957; Millar 1964;
Sordi 2000; late datings (between 211 and 234CE) are proposed e.g. by Letta 1979; Barnes
1984; Kemezis 2014. Kemezis holds that the Roman History was finished between 228 and
231 CE, but published only after Dio’s death. The publication especially of the contem-
porary books, which contain many points of criticism, under a Severan emperor seems
unlikely, cf. Kemezis 2014, 146.
176 chapter 6

temporary (Severan and Antonine) emperors in the early imperial books.29 Not
only may Dio have revised his text at a later point in time, but even according
to the early dating Dio will have composed the early imperial books during the
reign of Elagabalus.30
The 80 books of Roman History have not all come down to us directly.31 We
have Dio’s original text only for books 36 to 60 and for parts of books 79(78)
and 80(79). For the rest of the work we must rely on fragments and epitomes, of
which the most important are excerpts made under Constantine VII Porphyro-
genitus in the tenth century, and Epitomai written by Xiphilinus and Zonaras
in the eleventh and twelfth centuries.32 The two variant numberings for books
61 to 80 result from this state of transmission.33 For the imperial period, includ-
ing the reigns of Nero and Domitian, Xiphilinus’ epitome is our most important
text.34 He preserves roughly one quarter of Dio’s original text on the princip-

29 As there are allusions and direct references to Dio’s own time also in the earlier books—
for the regal period see Schulz 2019a—they have to be explained in two different ways.
Scholars who follow an early dating consider them to be later revisions by Dio. If one sub-
scribes to a later dating, allusions to Dio’s own times can be explained more easily: Dio
then inserted them directly into his work while composing it, mainly during the reign of
Severus Alexander (cf. Barnes 1984, 252–253).
30 This point of view corresponds to Swan’s dating of the work: Swan 2004, 2–3; 28–36 prefers
an early dating, with Dio’s research starting around 200 CE under Septimius Severus, and
composition from around 210 CE onwards and mainly undertaken under Caracalla, Mac-
rinus, and Elagabalus. If Dio wrote at a consistent pace, he would have composed six or
seven books a year. Around 222CE there may have been a first publication of books 1 to 76,
but this edition (if it existed) has not come down to us. Dio may have prepared a second
edition around 230CE with a slightly revised version of books 1 to 76 and the addition of
books 77–80. Starting from these assumptions Swan himself calculates that Dio wrote his
Augustan books under Macrinus, his books on Caracalla and Elagabalus under Severus
Alexander. We can add that, according to Swan’s dating, Dio would have composed his
books on Tiberius, the other Julio-Claudians, and the Flavians under Elagabalus.
31 For the state of the transmitted text cf. Millar 1964, 1–4; Potter 1999, 74–76; Murison 1999,
1–5.
32 For Zonaras cf. Boissevain 1891 in his Praefatio ix–x, who argues for his dependence on
Xiphilinus, and not directly on Dio in the later imperial books (from Zonaras 11.21 on). For
the excerpta Constantiniana and Zonaras cf. Swan 2004, 36–38; Simons 2009, 25–32.
33 I will give both the book numbers of Boissevain and of Leunclavius (in brackets) whenever
they differ from each other. Boissevain himself gives Leunclavius’ differing book numbers
at the top of the right-hand page in his edition. In the Loeb edition Cary follows Bois-
sevain’s numbering. He indicates the beginning of Leunclavius’ books in the left margin.
For different book numberings of 61–80 (Leunclavius vs. Gutschmid/Boissevain) cf. Swan
2004, 383–385. On difficulties regarding book 70 cf. Schmidt 1989.
34 For Xiphilinus’ technique of epitomization see Mallan 2013b (who contextualizes Xiphili-
nus in the middle Byzantine period); Berbessou-Broustet 2016. Cf. also Brunt 1980, 488–
492; Schmidt 1989, 55–59; Edmondson 1992, 29; Murison 1999, 1–2.
writing historiography under the severans 177

ate and rarely adds material from his other sources, which include Eusebius,
Polybius, and Plutarch. Xiphilinus’ method is not to paraphrase or summar-
ize all of Dio’s text. Rather, he inconsistently omits some sections completely,
compresses and abbreviates others, but also gives some passages—even longer
ones—almost verbatim, thus producing excerpts, often selected according to
his own interests. In general, he is a relatively reliable epitomator:35 he makes
fewer mistakes than Zonaras and serious mistakes are very rare; he usually
sticks to Dio’s order and mostly preserves Dio’s own words too. But when we
interpret Dio via Xiphilinus, it is important not to draw arguments from the
lack of any piece of information or from the lack of unity in a passage, from the
length of a passage, or from the exact wording.36
The text of the Roman History has raised further questions that do not
depend on its problematic transmission. The most obvious one concerns the
language: why did Dio write the Roman History in Greek? His choice of Greek
for a historiographical work distinguishes him, for example, from his contem-
porary Marius Maximus, who wrote twelve biographies in Latin from Nerva to
Elagabalus, which have survived only indirectly through the Historia Augusta.37
But now that Dio’s relationship with the Second Sophistic has become the focus
of scholarship,38 the question might be reversed: why would Dio have written
in Latin? Cassius Dio’s mother tongue was Greek, and Greek dominated the lit-
erature of his time.39 Under the first non-Italian dynasty and surrounded by a
growing number of Greek-speaking senators Dio wrote in the language that was
also used by his favourite emperor Marcus Aurelius.40 Dio’s language choice is

35 Cf. Murison 1999, 267 for Xiphilinus’ reliability, with the example of 67.15.6. Cf. however
Ehrhardt 1994 for an example of Xiphilinus changing and Christianizing Dio’s text. For
Xiphilinus’ deviation from Dio’s original cf. also Brunt 1973, 174.
36 For the methodological treatment of the epitomized text cf. Gowing 1997, 2560–2563;
Pelling 1997, 124 (who is extremely cautious, also regarding the disposition of the narrative:
“We cannot exclude the possibility that there has been some more far-reaching displace-
ment of material to suit Xiphilinus’ strategy, though this is admittedly unlikely”); Murison
1999, 5.
37 Unfortunately we cannot know for certain whether Cassius Dio and Marius Maximus read
each other’s work, cf. Kemezis 2012, 411 n. 59. Meckler assumes that Dio read Marius Max-
imus (cf. Meckler 2005, 231); Molinier Arbo argues that they influenced each other (cf.
Molinier Arbo 2009, 290–291 on the publication of Dio after the publication of Marius
Maximus, and on Marius Maximus reacting to Dio’s earlier work).
38 See Jones 2016, 298–302 for Dio’s sophistic qualities: he is keen to display his readings in
Plato and Homer and his paideia in rhetoric.
39 Cf. Whitmarsh 2007, 30: “The exception of the jurists, however, proves the general rule:
Greek remained, as under the Antonines, the expected language for literary writing.” We
should add the Christian authors and Marius Maximus among the exceptions too.
40 According to Gowing 1992, 292 (esp. n. 7) a quarter of the senators of Dio’s time came
178 chapter 6

an expression of his double identity: he sees himself politically as Roman, but

culturally mainly as Greek.41 And the crucial element of this cultural identity
is language: by using Attic Greek an author presents himself as member of the
elite,42 and Cassius Dio himself reports that he read many books to train him-
self in a pure Attic style (ἐπὶ τῷ ἀττικίζειν, 55.12.5).
How closely Cassius Dio worked together and exchanged ideas with other
authors of the Second Sophistic is not certain.43 Research on the so-called
Julia Domna Circle can hardly go beyond speculation. The wife of Septimius
Severus brought various authors of the Second Sophistic together, but we do
not know any details except that Philostratus and Philiscus participated in
this circle, which was most probably not an institution in any strict sense.44
Whether Dio was somehow connected to this group or even a member of it
is also unclear.45 But Dio’s text can still be considered and interpreted as a
product of contemporary discourses: Tim Whitmarsh characterizes the liter-
ature of the Severan period as a literature of compilation and collection.46
An important feature of prose literature was “large-scale, synthetic works that
attempt to capture and define intellectual traditions”, such as Philostratus’Lives
of the Sophists or Diogenes’ Lives of the Famous Philosophers.47 We will see that
Dio’s work fits within these Severan literary discourses that construct tradi-

from the Greek East. See also Steinmetz 1982, 38–39 (while under Hadrian 15% of the
senators came from the Eastern provinces, they were already 27% under Commodus).
Potter 2014, 69 speaks of almost 50 % of senate members with non-Italian roots under
Hadrian.
41 Cf. Reinhold 1986, 220; Gowing 1998, 389; Sidebottom 2007, 76–77 (with references to
Bowie 1970 and Swain 1996, and against Bowersock 1969, who argues that the Greek elite
was Romanized and merged with the Hellenized Roman elite). Also Swain 1996, 401–408
considers Dio as Roman from a political point of view and as Greek with regard to his cul-
tural identity. See also Burden-Strevens 2015, 289–290; 296–297; 304 (arguing against too
strong a dichotomy of the political and the cultural as two distinct spheres of identifica-
tion). For the political assimilation of the Greek elite in the second century, who still kept
their Greek cultural identity, cf. de Blois 1984, 359–361. By contrast, Dio’s Romanization
is emphasized too much by Aalders 1986, 283–290; 295; 302–304, who considers Dio an
exception in his time.
42 For the social impact of Attic Greek cf. Swain 1996, 17–42; 407–408; 409–410.
43 Cf. Whitmarsh 2007, 50 on our general uncertainty about the interaction between the
authors of the time. Moscovich 2004 assumes an exchange between Dio and the sophists,
especially those surrounding Julia Domna.
44 Cf. Bowersock 1969, 108; Whitmarsh 2007, 32–34.
45 We know of the Julia Domna Circle only thanks to Philostratus and Dio, but there is no
proof that Dio was a member, cf. Gowing 1992, 290.
46 Cf. Whitmarsh 2007, 44.
47 Whitmarsh 2007, 50.
writing historiography under the severans 179

tions, although on a political rather than an intellectual level.48 In addition, we

can at least assume an exchange between Cassius Dio and Philostratus.49 As
Alain Gowing has shown, the two authors share an interest in Cicero, which is
not typical of Greek authors of the time, and a political interest in the ques-
tion of how to deal with tyranny.50 What is more, Philostratus shares Dio’s
interest in Nero and Domitian, as expressed in his Nero and in his Vita Apol-
lonii.51

1.2 The Historian and Contemporary History

As a historian Cassius Dio has earned quite diverse estimations. His literary
achievements and his style have often been criticized. After the influential ver-
dict of Eduard Schwartz, he was long considered a second-class historiographer
at best, although he was also regarded as an important historical source.52 By
contrast, recent studies have valued his consistent presentation of the whole of
Roman history, for which he must have gathered a massive amount of mater-
ial.53 Dio’s stylistic ideal is Thucydides.54 He read contemporary authors and
Greek authors, first of all Homer, also Euripides, the tragedians, and Plutarch.
And he also consulted Latin authors such as Sallust, Cicero, Livy, Virgil, and
probably Seneca.55 The question of Dio’s sources has taken a turn from Quellen-

48 Cf. Whitmarsh 2007, 38–40 on constructions of (mainly intellectual) genealogies, stem-

mata, and lines of tradition in Philostratus and Diogenes Laertios.
49 Cf. Jones 2016, 305. Millar 1964, 19–20 assumes that Dio and Philostratus had a close con-
nection. Moscovich 2004, 360–361 considers it highly probably that Dio knew Philostratus’
VA.
50 See Gowing 1998, 376; 386–387. Gowing analyses the dialogue between Cicero and Philis-
cus in Cassius Dio and speculates that Dio originally wrote this dialogue independently of
the Roman History (cf. Gowing 1998, 377–378; 384).
51 For Domitian in Philostr. VA see esp. 7.1, 7.11–12, 7.32–35, 8.7–8, 8.25. The remarkable ending
of Dio’s depiction of Domitian’s life, which shows the reaction of Apollonius of Tyana to
Domitian’s death (67.17.1; 67.18.1–2), is not found in Suetonius and may well be influenced
by Philostratus.
52 Cf. Schwartz 1899/1957, 402; 406; Bleicken 1962, 444.
53 Cf. Kemezis 2014, 92–94. Reinhold 1986, 213 summarizes the reproaches directed against
Cassius Dio, and defends him emphatically (see also Reinhold 1986, 222).
54 Cf. e.g. Flach 1973, 130–131; Aalders 1986, 291–292; Lintott 1997, 2499–2500; Swan 1997, 2525;
Escribano 1999, 172; Zecchini 2016, 118–119. For other models cf. Lachenaud 2003, 104, who
compares Dio’s treatment of his models to that of Jorge Luis Borges.
55 For Dio’s knowledge of these authors cf. Aalders 1986, 291–293. Dio’s knowledge of Virgil is
implied by 76(75).10.2, where a verse from the Aeneid is cited. For the widespread know-
ledge of Virgil around 200 CE cf. Swain 2007, 10. For Dio reading Cicero (Second Philippic,
De divinatione) cf. Lintott 1997, 2519; Mallan 2016, 275. Gowing 1998, 384; 388 analyses ref-
erences to Cicero in the dialogue between Cicero and Philiscus, who is said to have read
180 chapter 6

forschung in the strict sense towards research that analyses both Dio’s original-
ity in presenting his material and the literary qualities of his text.56 The fact that
Dio made use of material and interpretations that he found in his sources for
his own work does not imply that we cannot consider this material and these
interpretations also as his own choice and as part and parcel of his own work.57
Dio reflects on his task as a historian from a theoretical point of view.58 In a
fragment at the beginning of his work he discusses the relationship of truth and
style: he does not think that his aesthetic style is at odds with narrating the truth
(1.1.2). Rather, he points out, it is difficult to find out the truth because of the
information available. Dio complains about the restricted access to the mater-
ial he needs and about the possibilities for research under the emperors, who
influence the kind of information and the way it is given (53.19.1–6):59 as many
things have been dealt with secretly, one cannot check whether the informa-
tion that reached the public was really true or not, he complains; according to
Dio, many versions existed that did not coincide with the facts. He concludes
that in his imperial narrative he will state everything in accordance with the
reports that have been given out, whether they contained the truth or not (εἴτ’
ὄντως οὕτως εἴτε καὶ ἑτέρως πως ἔχει, 53.19.6), but that he will additionally give
his own opinion wherever his reading, hearsay, and what he has seen allow him
to form another judgment (53.19.6).

the original Ciceronian text. For Dio reading non-historical literature cf. Millar 1961, 22.
For Dio’s bilingualism and his consulting Latin sources cf. Freyburger-Galland 1992, 127;
Freyburger-Galland 1997, 628.
56 On Dio’s sources and Quellenforschung cf. Schwartz 1899/1957, 406–446; Vrind 1926, 321–
327; Millar 1964, 34–38; Townend 1961 (for traces in Dio of Cluvius Rufus, Aufidius Bassus,
and Pliny the Elder); Wirth 1985, 39–43; Freyburger-Galland 1992, 126; Simons 2009, 5–
9. There is an overview of Quellenforschung in Martinelli 1999, 25–30. For an analysis of
Dio’s work as a literary text cf. Gowing 1992, 39–50 (summarizing Quellenforschung on Dio
and Appian); Gowing 1997, 2563–2564. The debate about Quellenforschung emerged again
with the monograph of Manuwald 1979, who explains contradictions and inconsistencies
in Dio’s account by his use of different sources: he argues that Dio was not able to or did
not want to resolve these tensions, or was not even aware of them at all (e.g. Manuwald
1979, 26; 167; 275; 277; 284). The opposite is held by Steidle 1988, 224 and Rich 1989, 91; 108:
they explain ambivalences and inconsistencies not by Quellenforschung, but as a literary
phenomenon.
57 Cf. Gowing 1992, 60 on Cassius Dio and Appian: “If they have indeed taken over from
time to time their sources’ interpretations and perspectives, we are nevertheless justified
in regarding those interpretations and perspectives as their own.” Dio’s originality with
regard to his sources is highlighted by Simons 2009, 301.
58 See Hose 1994, 444–448.
59 For Dio’s difficulties in getting information cf. Zimmermann 1999a, 48–51; Schmidt 1999,
96.
writing historiography under the severans 181

This makes the information he can acquire for his own times even more
important, since Dio can additionally draw on his own experience and on
reports of eyewitnesses that reach back to the end of Trajan’s reign.60 His
entrance into the senate in 182CE is thus a watershed moment: Dio underlines
that from now on he is an eyewitness to the events reported and so he will now
be able to give more details (λέγω δὲ ταῦτά τε καὶ τὰ λοιπὰ οὐκ ἐξ ἀλλοτρίας ἔτι
παραδόσεως ἀλλ’ ἐξ οἰκείας ἤδη τηρήσεως, “I state these and subsequent facts, not,
as hitherto, on the authority of others’ reports, but from my own observation”,
73[72].4.2; καὶ μέντοι καὶ τἆλλα πάντα τὰ ἐπ’ ἐμοῦ πραχθέντα καὶ λεπτουργήσω
καὶ λεπτολογήσω μᾶλλον ἢ τὰ πρότερα, “and, indeed, all the other events that
took place in my lifetime I shall describe with more exactness and detail than
earlier occurrences”, 73[72].18.4). The status of eyewitness influences Cassius
Dio’s depiction of the events much more than in the case of Tacitus. In Dio, the
narratological situation also changes: Dio now starts to use the first person sin-
gular for himself and the first person plural for the senators.61 The overt primary
narrator, who had until now seemed to be an external narrator, becomes part
of the narrative, an internal narrator. He identifies himself with the author
and with one of his characters, but still knows more than his corresponding
character could know: he is informed about the thoughts and feelings of his
characters. He continues to comment on his narrative, makes his readers aware
of himself, and becomes involved in the events and topics that he presents.
Contemporary history, as depicted by this first-person narrator, has an
enormous influence on the whole work and can be regarded as the crucial ele-
ment upon which the character of the Roman History depends.62 In the three
generations preceding Cassius Dio—or, to put it differently, between Tacitus
and Cassius Dio63—there is no surviving non-panegyrical contemporary his-
tory.64 With Cassius Dio, a senator enters the historiographical scene writing
a work that is markedly different from other depictions of the period. The

60 For oral reports as sources cf. 80(79).7.4. For Dio’s autopsy see e.g. 75(74).14.4–6 (his visit to
Byzantium, including criticism of Septimius Severus’ conquest and treatment of the city).
Cf. Freyburger-Galland 2003, 115.
61 On Dio as a narrator in general cf. Hidber 2004; Kemezis 2014, 94–98.
62 Cf. Bleicken 1962, 445–446; 450; 454; Flach 1973, 133–134; Reinhold 1986, 14–15; Gowing 1992,
293–294; Gowing 1997, 2560; Hose 2007, 465–467; Hose 2011, 124. Differently Schmidt 1997,
2596 (“Zeitgeschichte ist ihm jedoch nicht der neuralgische Punkt, von welchem ausge-
hend er eine historische Gesamtsicht entwirft oder gar ein konsistentes Geschichtsmodell
entwickelt”).
63 Cf. Kemezis 2010, 318–319.
64 Cf. Zimmermann 1999a, 45–47; Kemezis 2010. See also the overview of Sidebottom 2007
and of Zecchini 2016.
182 chapter 6

contemporaneous autobiography of Septimius Severus was probably similar

to the panegyrical biography that Aelius Antipater wrote about him, and it is
not unlikely that they were both known to Dio.65 They represent a discourse
about political rule in which Dio participates too.66 Dio is part of ongoing
negotiations about contemporary emperors and their imperial representation.
He corrects other versions and interpretations of imperial representation, for
example when he discusses the suicide of Albinus and points out that he will
not recount everything that Septimius Severus has written about that sub-
ject, but will state what really happened (76[75].7.3). He underlines this role of
correcting official events also when he writes against Caracalla’s own reports
(79[78].2.1). In addition to such explicit corrections, in his version of the events
at Hatra Dio reacts to the official version of events or the imperial representa-
tion without making it explicit.67 Zeev Rubin has shown how the propaganda of
Septimius Severus styled the siege of Hatra in the Second Parthian War differ-
ently from Cassius Dio.68 We can see from these two different versions that the
meaning of a contemporary event was still being negotiated: official imperial
representation tried to present Hatra as a great military success; Dio’s critical
version reacts to and corrects these attempts.

2 Imperial Representation in the Roman History

2.1 Topics of Representation and Transgressions

Cassius Dio treats all the topics of imperial representation as described in
chapter 3: the emperors’ military actions, their building projects, their forms
of public entertainment, their speeches, their representation as divine, and
the atmosphere of their reigns. Whereas there were no examples of Domi-
tian’s buildings, public entertainment, or divinity in Tacitus (cf. p.64–76; 79–
88) due to the loss of the relevant passages in the Histories, Dio’s text does
provide examples of their deconstruction: Domitian’s statues are deconstruc-
ted as superfluous and hubristic, being of silver and gold (τοσαῦτα αὐτῷ ἐψηφίσ-

65 For Septimius Severus’ autobiography cf. Rubin 1980, 133–193. For Aelius Antipater’s and
Septimius Severus’ own biography cf. Sidebottom 2007, 55. On Aelius Antipater and
Philostratus as possible sources for Dio’s text about Septimius Severus cf. Moscovich 2004,
358–359.
66 See also Philostratus and his depiction of Caracalla as tyrant. However, Whitmarsh 2007,
35–38 is critical of a political reading of Philostratus’ VA.
67 See also Davenport/Mallan 2014, 657–658 for Dio reacting to positive representations of
Commodus e.g. in Oppian.
68 Cf. Rubin 1975.
writing historiography under the severans 183

θη ὥστε πᾶσαν ὀλίγου δεῖν τὴν οἰκουμένην τὴν ὑπ’ αὐτὸν οὖσαν εἰκόνων αὐτοῦ καὶ
ἀνδριάντων καὶ ἀργυρῶν καὶ χρυσῶν ἐμπλησθῆναι, “so many honours were voted to
him that almost the whole world, so far as it was under his dominion, was filled
with his silver and golden images and statues”, 67.8.1). His Alban villa figures as
a place of secretiveness and death.69 His public entertainment is transgressive
and brings death to those participating in it (67.8.1–9.6).70 His claim to divinity
is mentioned twice (ἤδη γὰρ καὶ θεὸς ἠξίου νομίζεσθαι, 67.4.7; cf. 67.13.4) and the
thunderbolt, an accessory of Jupiter, with whom the historical Domitian iden-
tified,71 reappears in the opening passage of the depiction of this reign, where
a metaphor describes his violent attacks on people (πολλὰ μὲν ὥσπερ σκηπτὸς
ὀξέως ἐμπίπτων τισὶν ἐλυμαίνετο, “he often attacked people with the sudden viol-
ence of a thunderbolt”, 67.1.1).
A remarkable topic of imperial representation is education, which Dio uses
as a point of critique.72 Like other authors of the Second Sophistic Dio points
out that (Greek) education is crucial to an emperor.73 Contemporary emperors
are portrayed as valuing or neglecting education. The contrast between Marcus
Aurelius, who is highly praised as educated and literate (e.g. 72[71].35.1), and his
son Commodus, who kills men of paideia (73[72].5.3), is the most striking. Dio’s
good emperor Pertinax is able to convict a fraudster, who gives a false identity,
by demonstrating the fraud’s lack of education (73[72].6.5). This episode clearly
illustrates that for Dio education is a main feature of a person’s identity.74 Thus
Septimius Severus, who appears only as skilled soldier and military leader, is
contrasted with Albinus, who is of elevated origin and education (ἦν δὲ ὁ μὲν
Ἀλβῖνος καὶ τῷ γένει καὶ τῇ παιδείᾳ προήκων, ἅτερος δὲ τὰ πολέμια κρείττων καὶ
δεινὸς στρατηγῆσαι, 76[75].6.2); Dio’s Caracalla disdains people who value edu-
cation (78[77].11.2). This lack of interest in or hatred for education on the part
of contemporary emperors is already foreshadowed in Dio’s Nero and Domi-

69 See p.238.
70 See Schulz 2016, 280–292.
71 As mentioned on p.80 Domitian was the first princeps to be depicted with Jupiter’s thun-
derbolt on coins. See Leberl 2004, 52–53.
72 Cf. the overview of Cassius Dio on the paideia of all principes in Jones 2016, 309–311. Edu-
cation is also an important attribute of senators. They quote Homer (79[78].30.1), with a
citation from whom Dio ends his work (80.5.3); see Burden-Strevens 2015, 301; Gowing
2016, 133–135. The high estimation of this author ties in with Dio’s critique of Hadrian,
who is said to have replaced Homer with Antimachus because he envied Homer (69.4.6).
See Schmitz 1997, 48; 52–53; 105 on Dio on education. For the importance of paideia in
the roughly contemporary Herodian (and his portrait of Severus Alexander) see Zimmer-
mann 1999b, 232–251.
73 Cf. Swain 1996, 406–407.
74 Cf. Gleason 2011, 40; 42 on 73(72).5.3–6.
184 chapter 6

tian. Nero neglects the wise education of Seneca and Burrus.75 Domitian kills a
number of learned men,76 and he himself is depicted with a stylus that he uses
not for literary purposes, but to impale flies (καὶ τὰς μυίας γραφείοις κατεκέντει,
65[66].9.4)—an anecdote to which we will return in different contexts.77
The emperor must be moderate and must stay within certain bounds; other-
wise his behaviour is evaluated as negative transgression. Such a transgression
may involve social norms, or moral concepts such as manliness, modesty, or apt
humour.78 A good example of Dio’s interest in depicting imperial representa-
tion as transgressive is provided by his portrayal of Commodus. The emperor
commits all sorts of transgressions when he receives honours that his father
Marcus Aurelius had been granted because people loved him, but in Com-
modus’ case only because they are frightened; when he gives his own name to
Rome, to the legions, and to the day on which these decisions were made; when
he has a golden statue of himself erected among a vast number of statues; and
when he renames all the months with his own new titles, such as Amazonius
or Invictus (73[72].15.1–6).79 This passage about Commodus’ transgressions fol-
lows after the depiction of the worst plague ever known to Dio (νόσος μεγίστη
ὧν ἐγὼ οἶδα, 73[72].14.3). The depiction of Commodus picks up this plague, and
characterizes the emperor as even surpassing it: he was, so Dio, a greater curse
to the Romans than any pestilence or any crime (ἦν δὲ ἁπάντων νοσημάτων καὶ
ἁπάντων κακουργημάτων χαλεπώτερος Ῥωμαίοις ὁ Κόμμοδος, 73[72].15.1).
In addition to depictions of such transgressions Dio sometimes codes—on
an abstract level—the figure of transgression itself in a negative way. Nero is
said to have surpassed Caligula in his shamelessness because he thought it was
one of his tasks as emperor not to lag behind anyone even in the basest deeds
(τὸ μηδὲ ἐν τοῖς κακίστοις μηδενὸς ὑστερίζειν, 61.5.1). Similarly, the idea of emula-
tion or surpassing someone is deconstructed as something negative when Geta
and Caracalla are described as brothers who try to surpass each other in their
moral transgressions (77[76].7.1).

75 Cf. Jones 2016, 310 on 61(60).32.3; 61.4.5–5.1.

76 Cf. Jones 2016, 310 on Mettius Pompusianus, Maternus, Arulenus Rusticus, Herennius
Senecio.
77 For this anecdote in Suetonius and Cassius Dio cf. Newlands 2014, 328–329.
78 These transgressions will be studied more thoroughly in chapter 7.1.
79 Titles are not empty names for Dio, but meaningful honours. He sometimes praises people
who refrain from accepting certain titles (e.g. Pompey in 37.21.1) or reprehends their mis-
use. Cf. Dio on the title “Imperator” in 43.44.2–6, on the title “Augustus” in 53.16.7–8, and
on Trajan’s title “Optimus” in 68.23.1. See also Gowing 1997, 2583–2584.
writing historiography under the severans 185

2.2 Transgressions and Honours: Caesar and Augustus

The aforementioned transgressive statues of Domitian are presented in the
text as being the result of votes or honours awarded to the emperor (ἐψηφίσθη,
67.8.1). Giving and accepting honours, or not giving or refusing them, is one
of the most important social interactions between senators and emperors in
Dio.80 Dio’s critique is directed at both the senate and the emperors. The Ner-
onian senate, for example, is depicted as announcing so many sacrifices and
days of thanksgiving for Nero’s artistic victories in Greece that the whole year
was not enough for them (62[63].18.3).81 For the senate under Domitian, Dio
explains that honours given to emperors such as Domitian were only decreed
to prevent the emperors from suspecting that the people saw through them—
as they would have done if the honours had been few and insignificant (67.4.1).
And already Dio’s long list of honours attributed to Caesar (44.3.1–8.1) is not
free of criticism of the senators, who are said to have inflated Caesar’s pride by
these honours (44.3.1–2).82
Dio’s thoughts about the right measure or degree in the imperial repres-
entation of Nero, Domitian, and other principes seem prompted by the proto-
imperial figure of Julius Caesar.83 In Dio’s presentation, Caesar figures as
immoderate and arrogant (e.g. οὐδὲν μέτριον ἔπραττεν, ἀλλ’ ὡς καὶ ἀθάνατος ὢν
ὑπερεφρόνησε, “he showed no moderation, but was filled with arrogance, as if
immortal”, 43.41.3); as a politician who is greedy for money; but also extremely
skilled in his treatment of various social groups—he makes the people, the
senators, and the knights his friends (42.51.3–5). But his laudable deeds, includ-
ing those characterized by clemency, are analysed and deconstructed as part of
his political strategies. Caesar oversteps certain boundaries that had not been
transgressed by anyone before: with regard to their quantity and their quality
they are innovations. However, they are not condemned by Dio: several times

80 Caligula accepts all honours at once (59.3.1–2). For Commodus’ transgressive honours see
73(72).15.2–6.
81 The narrator Dio here presents the same critique that Tacitus’ Gaius Cassius voices about
Nero’s honours after Corbulo’s military success in Parthia in 58 CE (in Ann. 13.41.4). Cf.
p.100.
82 Tiberius is also portrayed as arrogant due to the sacrifices in his honour, which he receives
“as though he had accomplished something by valour” (54.9.5–6). Dio’s Caligula later
shows the senators that their behaviour in attributing honours is contradictory. If they
thought as badly of Tiberius as they claim, argues Dio’s Caligula, they should not have
bestowed so many honours upon him during his lifetime (59.16.4).
83 For Dio’s Caesar (and the technique of focalization) cf. Pelling 2009a, 515–519. Pompey
is also characterized as proud and craving glory. But Dio points out several times that he
accepted existing boundaries, e.g. in 37.21.3–4; 37.23.2–4.
186 chapter 6

he points out that Caesar’s actions and honours were, despite their innovative
status, not unconstitutional, as they were undertaken and given in accord with
the senators (e.g. 43.27.1). It would thus be too simple to say that Dio evaluates
representation only by its immoderate and transgressive character. Rather, he
always takes into account whether the transgression is legitimate or not. Trans-
gression is not good or bad per se. It becomes the object of critique only if it is
not legitimized by the senators.
That Caesar plays an important role in Dio’s reflections on the relationship
of transgression and legitimation, senators and principes, is also suggested by
Dio’s explicit general thoughts about the depiction of honours in his work: he
presents them in the context of the numerous honours and flattery of Caesar
after Pompey’s death (42.19.1–2). Dio here excludes two kinds of honours from
his narrative: he will not report honours that were not innovative, i.e. tradi-
tional honours which had been awarded to people already before Caesar; nor
will he mention honours that were innovative, but were only discussed in the-
ory and then not realized in fact (ὅσα ἤτοι καὶ ἑτέροις τισὶ πρότερον ἐψήφισται,
…, ἢ καινὰ μὲν καὶ τότε ἐσενεχθέντα πρῶτον ἦν, οὐ μέντοι καὶ ὑπὸ τοῦ Καίσαρος ἐβε-
βαιώθη, 42.19.3).84 This process of selection, which is presented as undertaken
in order not to weary the reader, has serious effects on the depiction that fol-
lows. When Dio leaves out non-innovative honours, the tradition of established
honours disappears from the text. This means that Dio’s focus, on the surface
of the text, will be on innovation, even if there were traditional honours and
even if they outweighed the innovative ones. Innovative honours are under-
lined additionally by not mentioning honours that are only thought of, only
hypothetical in nature. This practice, prompted by the depiction of Caesar’s
honours, will determine the narrative for the rest of his work: “This same plan
I shall follow in my subsequent account, adhering the more strictly to it, as the
honours proposed continually grew more numerous and more absurd (καὶ μᾶλ-
λόν γε ὅσῳ καὶ πλείω καὶ ἀτοπώτερα ἀεὶ ἐσήγετο). Only such as had some special
and extraordinary importance and were confirmed will be related (42.19.4).”
Passages in which Dio breaks his own law and talks explicitly about other hon-
ours hence attract special attention.85
In Dio’s discussion of Octavian/Augustus we also find several programmatic
views of emperors either keeping the right measure or transgressing boundar-
ies and about their representation and the honours they receive. In his speech
in favour of monarchy, mentioned above, Dio’s Maecenas advises Octavian not

84 Cf. similarly 43.46.1, where Dio is also explicit about his criteria of selection: he has chosen
to mention only the notable measures that were passed in honour of Caesar’s victory.
85 See e.g. 43.14.7 on Caesar declining honours which Dio does not mention.
writing historiography under the severans 187

to allow exceptional honours, nor to permit golden and silver images of himself
(εἰκόνας σου χρυσᾶς μὲν ἢ καὶ ἀργυρᾶς) or temples to be raised for him (52.35.1–4).
Maecenas recommends that Octavian never make use of his full power against
his subjects, and never put into practice every act that his power would allow
him (52.38.1). Another, stricter boundary is established by Dio’s Livia when she
states in the famous dialogue with her husband that he must avoid not only
unjust action, but even the suspicion of it (καὶ δεῖ σε, ὦ Αὔγουστε, μὴ μόνον μηδὲν
ἀδικεῖν, ἀλλὰ μηδὲ δοκεῖν, 55.19.3). Augustus’ behaviour is indeed evaluated as
generally moderate by Dio (ἐν δὲ δὴ τοῖς ἄλλοις ἐμετρίαζεν, 54.3.1). When he has
his Augustus suspect that Tiberius may become demented (καὶ μέντοι καὶ αὐτὸν
ἐκεῖνον ὑποπτεύσας πῃ ἐκφρονήσειν, 55.13.2), this not only anticipates Tiberius’
later actions as transgressions, it also confirms his own behaviour as keeping
within the set boundaries.86

86 The difference between Augustus and Tiberius is mirrored in the behaviour of their most
important allies. While Agrippa appears modest in declining a triumph (54.11.6), Sejanus
is depicted as a victim of the excessive and novel honours that were bestowed upon him
(58.12.6).
 chapter 7

Strategies of Deconstruction in Cassius Dio

1 Negative Connotations

1.1 Foreign and Unmanly

As in Tacitus, an important device of deconstruction, of creating a negat-
ive image of an emperor based on formerly positive or neutral interpreta-
tions of him, is to interpret imperial representation as transgressive through
negative connotations. Some emperors in Dio are depicted as transgressing
the boundary of Roman manliness: they are pictured as foreign and female,
two reproaches that are closely intertwined in Dio too.1 As in Tacitus, these
reproaches are more fruitfully applied to Nero than to Domitian, and above
all to Nero’s performances as artist and in marriages. But the reproach that a
Roman man is not behaving as a Roman man should pertains to several figures
in Dio’s work, the most obvious example for this sort of denigration probably
being Marc Antony. He features as an un-Roman man contrasted to the Roman
Octavian.2 Among the contemporary emperors, Elagabalus’ effeminacy stands
out in Dio.3
Dio’s use of foreignness as a negative characteristic becomes more com-
plex when he has foreigners take a perspective from outside, to look at the
Romans and comment on their behaviour negatively. This strategy works on the
assumption that it matters what foreigners think about Rome. Dio’s Seneca and
Burrus, who act according to this principle, try to conceal from an Armenian
legation the degree of power held by Agrippina. They prevent Nero’s mother
from behaving as a ruler in front of the legation, so that the Empire’s weak-

1 For Tacitus see p.101–108.

2 See e.g. 48.30.1. Dio’s Octavian makes abundant use of such depictions of Marc Antony in his
speech before Actium (50.25.1–5; μήτ’ οὖν Ῥωμαῖον εἶναί τις αὐτὸν νομιζέτω, ἀλλά τινα Αἰγύπτιον,
μήτ’ Ἀντώνιον ὀνομαζέτω, ἀλλά τινα Σαραπίωνα, “therefore, let no one count him a Roman, but
rather Egyptian, nor call him Antony, but rather Serapion”, 50.27.1). The portrayal of Antony
given by Octavian draws heavily on a negative image of Egyptians. According to Dio’s Octavian
they revere reptiles and other animals as gods, embalm their bodies to give the impression of
immortality, they are cowards and slaves of a woman instead of a man (50.24.6–7). Octavian’s
intimates too are sceptical about Egyptians: Agrippa restricts the practice of Egyptian rites
(54.6.6); Maecenas argues against foreign religious rites and new gods who could incite for-
eign forms of life in general (52.36.2).
3 On Elagabalus’ effeminacy see Osgood 2016, 183–185.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004407558_012

strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 189

ness does not become apparent to the foreigners (ὥστε μὴ καὶ ἐς τοὺς βαρβάρους
τὸ νόσημα τῆς ἀρχῆς ἐκφανῆναι, 61.3.4). It is from such a perspective that Dio
presents an extremely disgraceful event for Rome: when he not only presents
Roman knights and senators performing as dancers in the circus and theatre
under Nero (62[61].17.3–4) but also has foreigners cite the names of these noble
Roman participants to each other (62[61].17.5):

καὶ ἐδακτυλοδείκτουν γε αὐτοὺς ἀλλήλοις, καὶ ἐπέλεγον Μακεδόνες μέν “οὗτός

ἐστιν ὁ τοῦ Παύλου ἔκγονος”, Ἕλληνες δὲ “οὗτος τοῦ Μομμίου”, Σικελιῶται
“ἴδετε τὸν Κλαύδιον”, Ἠπειρῶται “ἴδετε τὸν Ἄππιον”, Ἀσιανοὶ τὸν Λούκιον, Ἴβη-
ρες τὸν Πούπλιον, Καρχηδόνιοι Ἀφρικανόν, Ῥωμαῖοι δὲ πάντας.

So they pointed them out to one another and made their comments,
Macedonians saying: “There is the descendant of Paulus”; Greeks, “There
is Mummius’ descendant”; Sicilians, “Look at Claudius”; Epirotes, “Look at
Appius”; Asiatics naming Lucius, Iberians Publius, Carthaginians Africa-
nus, and Romans naming them all.

The Tacitean narrator, talking about the same or a similar event, omits their
names out of respect for their own descendants (Tac. Ann. 14.14.3). Dio, by con-
trast, makes use of them as part of his strategy of deconstruction. In his text,
the names are given by foreigners who even point out that these people are des-
cendants of famous Romans: the effect of disgrace is all the greater since this
piece of information is not given by the primary narrator but by a secondary
narrator who is himself not a Roman. The same technique is applied to women
too. Feminine conduct by an emperor is described as feminine not only by the
narrator but also by women in the narrative. A foreigner and a woman, Boud-
icca, queen of the Britons, in a speech addressed to another foreign female, the
goddess Andraste (62.6.2), characterizes Nero as woman (ὄνομα μὲν γὰρ ἀνδρὸς
ἔχει, ἔργῳ δὲ γυνή ἐστι, 62.6.3; ἡ Νερωνὶς ἡ Δομιτία, 62.6.5) and the Romans as
unmanly (62.6.4).4
The reproach of effeminacy often entails that the ruler is dependent on and
guided by a woman. Marc Antony, again, serves as prototype. He is portrayed
as the slave of Cleopatra both by the narrator (48.24.2; 50.5.1–4) and by Dio’s
Octavian (50.28.3; 5). Marc Antony’s unmanly un-Romanness is mirrored by
Cleopatra, whose status as a female foreigner is used to discredit her too: she
takes flight from the battle of Actium, as the narrator puts it, in accordance

4 See Schulz 2014, 415.

190 chapter 7

with her nature as a woman and an Egyptian (ἀπό τε τοῦ γυναικείου καὶ ἀπὸ
τοῦ Αἰγυπτίου, 50.33.2). Among the emperors Claudius in particular is charac-
terized as dependent on his wives and freedmen (60.2.4), who turn Claudius
into a bad emperor (60.14.1). Claudius is portrayed as the slave of his women
(61[60].31.8).5 His niece and wife Agrippina first makes him depend on her
(61[60].33.1; 3a), then on her son Nero. Structurally, the relationship of Agrip-
pina and Nero appears as a repetition and augmentation of the relationship of
Livia and Tiberius.6
Another literary device that characterizes Dio’s Nero as feminine is the
description of his own boundary-breaking in gender and sex.7 When Dio’s Nero
marries Sporus, whom he has turned into a woman, in Greece, Dio points out
that the emperor was at that time already married as a woman to Pythagoras
(62[63].13.1–2).8 In doing so, he describes Nero as conducting two unnatural
marriages, which supplement each other in breaking different norms and two
laws of marriage at once: he is married as a man to a woman, who is not really
a woman, but a eunuch; and he is married as a woman (καίπερ Πυθαγόρᾳ τινὶ
ἐξελευθέρῳ γεγαμημένος,9 62.28.2) with Pythagoras, a man. We do not learn, at
least in the surviving text, that at the same time Nero was, in accordance with
all norms, married to Messalina, and that she was probably present in Greece.10
This piece of information, which would show Dio’s Nero in the traditional role
of a husband, would spoil the transgressions of gender and sex depicted.

1.2 Hubristic, or against Nature

Dio regards modest behaviour in general as a virtue that leads to success.
He therefore interprets negatively imperial forms of representation that trans-
gress modesty.11 As in Tacitus such patterns can be portrayed as hubrist-

5 For Messalina’s power over Claudius see 61(60).29.6.

6 See e.g. 57.3.3–6, 57.12.1–6, and 58.2.1–3 for Tiberius’ reaction to Livia’s death. People spec-
ulate that Tiberius owes his emperorship to his mother; for Nero, this is asserted without
any doubt. While Tiberius removes his mother from public affairs and finally moves to
Capri himself to get away from her (57.12.6), Nero removes Agrippina altogether.
7 On Nero’s femininity in Cassius Dio cf. Gowing 1997, 2580–2583.
8 On Nero breaching boundaries of gender and sex as regards Sporus see also Dio Chrys.
Or. 21.6: Dio mentions the castration and the changing of Sporus’ name to Poppaea’s as an
example of lawless, unlimited power.
9 Cf. the same use of the middle voice (ἐγήματο) for Elagabalus in 80(79).14.4.
10 Cf. Edmondson 1992, 240.
11 For modesty as a virtue in Dio cf. Kuhn-Chen 2002, 149–152. Modesty can also be depicted
by pointing out what people do not do. Cassius Dio presents, for example, a selection of
deeds that Claudius does not undertake at the birth of his son, and so indicates Claudius’
modest behaviour (60.12.5).
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 191

ic.12 A specific form of hubris, by which an emperor associates himself with

a god, is used in the depiction of Dio’s Domitian.13 Dio draws attention to
Domitian’s reverence for Minerva already in his introductory characterization
(67.1.2). This reverence is nuanced negatively when it is contrasted with the
assertion that Domitian did not feel anything for human beings, except for
a few women (ἀνθρώπων δὲ ἐφίλησε μὲν ἀληθῶς οὐδένα πλὴν γυναικῶν τινων,
67.1.3). Domitian is thus presented as someone who feels closer to the gods
than to people. This contrast ties in with Domitian’s isolation from his fellows,
which he himself desires. The peak of deconstructing Domitian’s representa-
tion through the attribution of divinity is the famous contention that Domitian
proudly called himself in speeches and written documents “master” and “god”
(ἤδη γὰρ καὶ θεὸς ἠξίου νομίζεσθαι, καὶ δεσπότης καλούμενος καὶ θεὸς ὑπερηγάλ-
λετο, 67.4.7). In the epitomized version of the text this contention presents
the climax of an anecdote that itself illustrates Domitian’s arrogance: after
the victory of his general Flaccus over the Nasamones Dio’s Domitian proudly
claims that he has forbidden the Nasamones to exist (67.4.6). Dio underlines
Domitian’s own enthusiasm for his title as “master and god” and supports this
contention by another story: a certain Juventius Celsus was accused of having
played a role in a conspiracy against Domitian. But he saved himself from a
condemnation by calling Domitian “master and god” several times (as did oth-
ers), according to Dio, and by offering to work for him as an informer (67.13.4).
The story is hardly plausible,14 but it puts emphasis on Domitian’s claim to
divinity.
By contrast, Dio’s Nero is not portrayed as arrogantly divine, but as play-
ing the role of a wild beast in satisfying his sexual appetite (62[63].13.2). It can
also be used as an argument against an emperor that he does not strive at all
for representation as divine: Dio’s Caracalla does not want to be called a god.
This potentially good form of representation is coded as negative through Cara-
calla’s alleged motive for his denial: he does not want to do anything that is
worthy of a god (ὅτι οὐδὲν ἄξιον θεοῦ πράττειν ἤθελεν, 78[77].5.1).
Before and after Nero and Domitian, Dio’s Caligula and Caracalla stand out
as emperors whose forms of representation are coded as divine and hubristic.

12 For hubris as opposed to moderatio in Tacitus see p.96–101.

13 For divinity as a panegyrical form of representation see p.80–82.
14 Dio claims that Juventius Celsus was in fact set free, but always found excuses not to
inform on anyone. He is said to have outlived Domitian (67.13.4). Cf. Murison 1999, 257,
who calls this “denigratory fiction, perhaps even put about by Celsus himself—after Domi-
tian’s death!” For an equally implausible story see 67.11.5 on Lusianus Proclus.
192 chapter 7

Dio’s Caligula orders that temples be erected for him and that sacrifices be
made to himself as to a god (καὶ ναοὺς ἑαυτῷ καὶ θυσίας ὡς καὶ θεῷ γίγνεσθαι
ἐκέλευσε, 59.4.4). He almost destroys the whole senate because it does not vote
him divine honours (59.25.5), enjoys himself in the roles of Neptune, Hercules,
Bacchus, Apollo, and all the other divinities (59.26.6), talks to the goddess of
the moon (59.27.6), and calls himself Jupiter Latiaris (59.28.5). The close con-
nection between Dio’s Caligula and his representation as divine provides the
basis for Dio’s sarcastic comment about Caligula’s death, by which, according
to Dio, he found out that he was not a god after all (59.30.1). Among Dio’s con-
temporary emperors, Commodus presents himself as Hercules (73[72].15.2; 3; 5;
6). But, in an anecdote which Dio discusses, Commodus’ representation as Her-
cules is not used to praise him at all: a picture, which displays the Herculean
motifs of a boy strangling two serpents and a lion pursuing a fawn, is inter-
preted as showing Commodus as Hercules, a style of representation that goes
back to the historical Commodus. Yet he had strangled two of his victims, iden-
tified as two Quintilii, and hunted a third one, a certain Sextus (73[72].7.1–2).
According to Dio, those looking at the image therefore re-coded the elements
negatively when they refer them to Commodus. The codes have been reversed:
strangling the snakes is not self-defence but murder, and the lion is turned from
a symbol of power into a symbol of persecution.
In accord with their own hubris, some emperors neglect divine signs. Dio’s
gods do not directly influence the events depicted in the narrative,15 but one
of the most significant features of Dio’s concept of history is his opinion that
important events are announced by divine signs, even if they are only inter-
preted as such in hindsight. For Dio, these are not supernatural signs; he rather
regards them as a part of science.16 We can identify characters in Dio who
care about such signs and try to understand them in contrast to characters
that do not. Cicero (37.35.4), for example, as well as Pompey (41.14.1), Octavian
(46.46.2–3), Livia (48.52.3–4), and Vitellius (64[65].16.1) care about divine signs.
Significantly, Nero and Domitian are not depicted as reading them or interpret-
ing them the right way. At Nero’s death both nature and imperial buildings give
signs of his downfall, which he ignores (63.26.5).

15 Cf. Kuhn-Chen 2002, 245 on prodigia as a “nicht zwingend notwendige Dimension” for the
course of history.
16 Cf. Swan 2004, 8–9. A rational explanation for natural phenomena such as solar or lunar
eclipses does not seem to contradict their character as divine signs. We see a strong
interest by the narrator in his report of Claudius’ efforts to demystify the events of a solar
and a lunar eclipse by a scientific explanation (60.26.1–5).
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 193

Unlike the gods, nature does influence the events depicted in the narrat-
ive directly. To oppose nature can be depicted as another form of hubris.
Like Tacitus, Dio deconstructs imperial actions and representation by present-
ing them as directed against nature.17 Weather, landscapes, or animals are
described as enemies of the emperor: they make his transgressive behaviour
apparent, comment on it, or try to prevent it. Especially in his depiction of Nero,
Dio makes use of this device, for example when Nero’s murder of Britannicus is
revealed because of a natural event. Dio’s Nero is said to have killed Britannicus
by a poison that had made his skin livid. Britannicus’ dead body had therefore
been smeared with gypsum. But when the body is carried outside, rain washes
the gypsum away.18 In this story, nature takes away the layer that had literally
made it possible to hide the misdeed.
While Dio only hints that nature plays an active part in the narrative, he has
the narrator confirm nature’s role in the murder of Agrippina explicitly. Dio’s
Nero plans the matricide on the open sea with the help of a ship that has been
tampered with. Dio points out that the sea did not want to allow this crime,
nor to be the place of this tragedy, nor take responsibility for such a deed (ἀλλ’
οὐ γὰρ ἤνεγκεν ἡ θάλασσα τὴν μέλλουσαν ἐπ’ αὐτῇ τραγῳδίαν ἔσεσθαι, οὐδ’ ὑπέμεινε
τὴν ψευδολογίαν τῆς ἀνοσιουργίας ἀναδέξασθαι, 62[61].13.3). This underlines the
contrast between nature’s behaviour on the one hand and the theatricality and
unnaturalness of Nero’s acts on the other hand. That the sea focalizes the events
as “tragedy” is extremely apt since the events have been inspired by theatre: the
idea for the murder arose from a manipulated ship in a theatre performance
(62[61].12.2). In Dio’s narrative, nature does indeed at least delay the murder
of Agrippina. After her death, especially during the sacrifices that are hypo-
critically held in her honour, nature gives heavenly signs of criticism: the sun
undergoes a total eclipse; in the circus, the elephants carrying the wagon of
Augustus stand still at the seats of the senators and refuse to go any further; a
thunderbolt strikes Nero’s dinner (62[61].16.4–5). Nero also figures as the dir-
ect opponent of nature in the canal project in Corinth. It is depicted as the
violation of an anthropomorphized nature: the earth spouts blood, groans, and
phantoms appear (αἷμά τε γὰρ τοῖς πρώτοις ἁψαμένοις τῆς γῆς ἀνέβλυσεν, καὶ οἰμω-

17 Cf. p.68 on Nero’s building endeavours in Tacitus as directed against nature.

18 See 61.7.4: ὑετὸς δὲ διὰ τῆς ἀγορᾶς αὐτοῦ διαγομένου πολύς, ὑγρᾶς ἔτι οὔσης τῆς γύψου, ἐπιπε-
σὼν πᾶσαν αὐτὴν ἀπέκλυσεν, ὥστε τὸ δεινὸν μὴ μόνον ἀκούεσθαι ἀλλὰ καὶ ὁρᾶσθαι (“But as the
body was being carried through the Forum, a heavy rain that fell while the gypsum was
still moist washed it all off, so that the crime was known not only by what people heard
but also by what they saw”). On the function of the rain at Britannicus’ funeral see also
part Five, p.362–364.
194 chapter 7

γαὶ μυκηθμοί τέ τινες ἐξηκούοντο, καὶ εἴδωλα πολλὰ ἐφαντάζετο, 62[63].16.1). The
earthquakes occurring during his flight are explained as caused by the ghosts
of the people that Nero killed (63.28.1).19
There are not as many instances in which imperial representation is con-
noted as unnatural with regard to Domitian. However, nature plays a vital part
in an anecdote about Domitian’s death. A prophet, who foretold Domitian’s
death, also predicts that he himself will be torn into pieces by dogs. In order to
refute the prophet and to prove him a liar Domitian wanted to have him burnt
to death. But, so the anecdote goes, the fire of the pyre was extinguished by a
rain shower; dogs then came and tore him apart (67.16.3). The rainfall is thus
an integral part of the narrative that shows the prophecy to be true and proves
Domitian wrong.

1.3 Not Funny, but Crazy

It is typical of Dio’s deconstruction through negative connotations to depict
bad rulers as having either no humour or a kind of humour that harms soci-
ety.20 Nero turns the horrible fate of his relations into an occasion for jokes
and laughter. He has Plautus murdered, then looks at his head and says: “I did
not know that he had such a big nose!” (62.14.1). It is not only here that Dio
uses the description of how people behave when they see the head of a former
opponent (or of someone else) to characterize them.21 Several other characters
also maltreat a person’s head verbally or physically. There is one example of the
opposite, i.e. the good behaviour of a ruler who cannot even bring himself to
look at a severed head. Dio reserves this conduct for his ideal emperor Marcus

19 In a fragment of John of Antioch (fr. 91, v. 35–38) Nero’s flight is additionally prompted by
a thunderbolt that strikes his table.
20 Emperors are evaluated not only by their own humour, but also by the way they react to
humour, irony, and the wit of other people (cf. Beard 2014, 129–135 on good and bad emper-
ors and their styles of joking). Dio does not often describe situations in which people
speak ironically to the emperor. An exception is the way Antistius speaks to Augustus:
it is ironic and witty, and is judged the right way to address the emperor (54.15.8). We also
hear of the witty remark regarding Nero’s marriage to the eunuch Sporus—“Would that
your father had had the same ambition and had lived with a similar consort!” (62.28.3a),
i.e. so that Nero would never have existed—but not of Nero’s reaction to it. However, the
story does not fit well with the depiction of Nero’s reign as a time in which one had to be
extremely careful not to offend the emperor. It hence seems probable that the joke was
made in Nero’s times, but became public only after his death. Cf. p.42 for such hidden
discourses.
21 The locus classicus for the maltreatment of a dead person’s head is Plut. Crass. 33.1–
4, where the Parthians integrate Crassus’ head into the performance of Euripides’ Bac-
chae.
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 195

Aurelius, who cannot look at the head of Cassius (72[71].38.1).22 More frequent
is the negative evaluation: we hear of Marc Antony that during the proscrip-
tions he looked at the heads of his victims; and his wife Fulvia is said to have
mistreated the head of Cicero (47.8.2–4). Brutus’ head is thrown into the sea
during a stormy crossing (47.49.2). Agrippina is depicted assessing the identity
of Lollia Paulina’s head by studying her teeth (61[60].32.4). Domitian sends the
heads of those he had killed after the revolt of Antonius Saturninus to Rome
to be displayed on the Forum (67.11.3). Septimius Severus mutilates Albinus’
corpse and has his head sent to Rome, a clear sign for Dio that he had none of
the qualities of a good ruler (76[75].7.3–4). In this group of parallels Nero’s joke
about the head of a dead person stands out in its lack of seriousness. It is not
to be explained as an angry act of revenge, as in the other cases, and therefore
appears especially inappropriate.
Some acts by eccentric emperors that are heavily criticized in the histori-
ographical texts, such as Nero’s triumph after his return from Greece
(62[63].20.1–6), his marriages with Sporus and with Pythagoras (62.28.2–3;
62[63].13.1–3), and Domitian’s funeral banquet (67.9.1–6), have been re-inter-
preted as humorous acts by recent historians. Nero’s triumph after his return
from Greece has been read as a satirical form of a traditional triumph, or even
as a conscious non-triumph.23 Edward Champlin has interpreted Nero’s break-
ing of sexual norms as rational transgressions that were supposed to shock and
to amuse.24 If Nero’s transgressions were humorous, they would show Nero’s
humour to be rather crude. But, according to Champlin, it was meant as a joke
when Nero had a young man’s testicles cut and then called him “Sporus”, i.e.
“semen”. It may also have amused people that a man became a woman, or that
a freedman became empress, and all this may have been understood as a funny
parody of the marriage ritual by the historical Nero.25 Nero’s marriage as a
woman to Pythagoras could be understood in a similar way, as we find the same
elements of bizarre pantomime and transgression of norms in this event too.26
Domitian’s funeral banquet has been read in the tradition of Trimalchio’s din-

22 The conduct of Pompey is similar when he receives the body of Mithridates, which was
sent to him by Mithridates’ son Pharnakes (37.14.1). Dio states explicitly that Pompey did
not undertake any act of revenge upon the body.
23 Champlin argues that with his performance after the journey to Greece in 67CE, Nero
wanted neither to hold a triumph nor to parody one (see Champlin 2003, 231: “osten-
tatiously not a triumph”; “a deliberate anti-triumph”). The emperor, rather, wanted his
actions to be seen as performance art (see Champlin 2003, 234).
24 Cf. Champlin 2003, 171.
25 This is the interpretation of Champlin 2003, 149–150.
26 Cf. Champlin 2003, 169.
196 chapter 7

ner (Petron. Sat. 26.7–78) as an original and enjoyable performance that plays
with the boundaries of life and death.27
Whatever the ‘true intentions’ of the historical Nero and Domitian may have
been, we can indeed assume that these transgressive forms of imperial repres-
entation were highly ambivalent and will have been perceived in different ways
already during the emperors’ lifetime. From this point of view we can read Dio’s
depiction of these events as an attempt to narrow down a semantically ambi-
valent form of representation to one specific meaning. Dio’s text excludes inter-
pretations of these events that decode them as humorous or at least make them
less plausible. Nero’s triumph is presented in the text as breaking the bound-
aries of a traditional triumph.28 This characterizes Nero as a bad emperor.29
When Dio depicts Nero’s marriage with Sporus he takes the ritual ceremony
very seriously (62[63].13.1–2): Tigellinus plays the part of the bride’s father, and
even the wish for future children is voiced. This appears to be a parody of the
ritual of marriage, but is not presented as funny by the narrator. The same ser-
ious tone accompanies the depiction of Nero’s marriage to Pythagoras. What
the historical Nero or some of his contemporaries may have regarded as a funny
caricature of serious rituals becomes a meaningless excess in Dio’s text. With
Domitian’s funeral banquet Cassius Dio is probably picking up reports and nar-
ratives about a dinner that really took place, which he then deconstructs by
coding it as explicitly negative and morbid.30
The impression that fun and the emperor are incompatible is underlined
by two complementary strategies in Dio. First, the emperor’s idea of humour
may entail the death of other people, as in the case of Nero’s nocturnal excur-
sions in Rome. Champlin points out that this kind of behaviour was not unusual
for young Roman aristocrats.31 Dio, by contrast, turns them into clear trans-
gressions of the notion of fun, for example by stating that people died from

27 See Waters 1964, 76; Dunbabin 1986, 194–195. Cf. the overview in Schulz 2016, 289–290.
28 For Dio’s idea of a traditional triumph see Lange 2016, 94–97. For Dio’s interest in the
boundaries of a triumph cf. his Pompey, who points out that he was the first knight to cel-
ebrate a triumph, contrary to custom (36.25.3), and his Caligula, who takes shells to Rome
for his triumph as spoils of the ocean (59.25.3–4). For Nero’s other triumphs or triumph-
like events (after the murder of Agrippina in 59 CE; and after the Roman victory over the
Parthians in 63 CE) cf. Champlin 2003, 219–223 and Lange 2016, 110–112 on Dio.
29 Cf. Beard 2007, 271: “In its simplest terms, ‘good emperors’ held proper triumphs for proper
victories, while ‘bad emperors’ held sham ceremonies for empty victories.”
30 For a detailed analysis of this banquet see Schulz 2016, 287–292.
31 Cf. Champlin 2003, 152: “Roaming the streets at night, looking for violent fun with his gang,
Nero was not alone: that was what uninhibited aristocratic youth did in the cities of the
empire.” Champlin points out that Nero was 18 to 21 years old and that there are no testi-
monies for this kind of behaviour in later years (see Champlin 2003, 153).
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 197

Nero’s behaviour (61.9.2). A second complementary strategy is to analyse as

jokes actions in the text that Nero himself takes seriously. When Nero presents
the invention of the water organ during the uprising of Vindex, this is presented
by Dio as an example of the fact that Nero often jested (συχνὰ δὲ δὴ καὶ ἤθυρεν,
63.26.4).
These depictions of imperial behaviour as not amusing sometimes suggest
that the emperors are mad. In some passages an emperor’s actions are explicitly
called “mad” or “crazy”, more often and much more explicitly than in Tacitus.
Caligula “totally loses his head” when someone calls him a demigod or a god
(δεινῶς ἐξεφρόνησεν, 59.26.5). The plot that leads to his death is depicted as the
consequence of his acting the madman in every way (ὡς οὖν πάντα τρόπον ἐξε-
μαίνετο, 59.29.1).
Such direct and explicit ascriptions of madness are used in the depiction of
Nero too. When Dio’s Nero takes away the territory of Cirrha from Apollo and
gives it to the soldiers, one of the reasons Dio gives for this behaviour is that
Nero was crazy (μανείς, 62[63].14.2). The term ἄνοια is used by the narrator for
Nero’s plan to live as an artist in Alexandria after he realizes that he has no allies
left (63.27.2). Domitian is portrayed as feigning madness (καὶ προσέτι καὶ μωρίαν
ἔστιν ὅτε προσεποιεῖτο) and as doing absurd things before his principate, such
as the above-mentioned impaling of flies on a stylus (65[66].9.4). For Domi-
tian’s reign we are given a whole catalogue of forms of imperial representation
that are explicitly coded as craziness (οὐ μὴν ἀλλ’ ἐπὶ πλεῖον ἐπαρθεὶς ὑπ’ ἀνοίας,
67.4.3–4), such as the consulate taken up ten years in a row, the censorship for a
lifetime (refused by Dio’s Augustus in 54.2.1), the 24 lictors accompanying him,
his wearing the triumphal garb in the senate, and his renaming of the month
October as “Domitianus”. In the contemporary narrative, Commodus’ crazi-
ness stands out. It is highlighted in the passage, mentioned above, in which all
his transgressions are summarized (οὕτω καθ’ ὑπερβολὴν ἐμεμήνει τὸ κάθαρμα,
73[72].15.4–5). The portrayal of Caracalla provides us with a new facet of crazi-
ness. His behaviour is analysed pathologically and described as psychological
illness:32 he is haunted by hallucinations and sees his dead father and Com-
modus. It is telling that Dio presents the equally mad Commodus as the only
one to respond to the paranoid Caracalla (78[77].15.4).

32 See 78(77).15.3: ἐνόσει μὲν γὰρ καὶ τῷ σώματι τὰ μὲν ἐμφανέσι τὰ δὲ καὶ ἀρρήτοις ἀρρωστήμα-
σιν, ἐνόσει δὲ καὶ τῇ ψυχῇ πικροῖς τισι φαντάσμασι (“for he was sick not only in body, partly
from visible and partly from secret ailments, but in mind as well, suffering from certain
distressing visions”).
198 chapter 7

2 Persuasive Characters

2.1 Characters and Actions

For a more complex framing of imperial action as negative, the depiction of an
emperor’s character plays an important role which is still reflected in the epi-
tomized text.33 Like Tacitus, Dio employs characterization to explain behaviour
and actions. It is thus crucial for the development and logic of the narrative. In
the imperial period, Dio combines the annalistic scheme with biographical ele-
ments and his approach may hence be characterized as a mixture of those of
Tacitus and Suetonius.34 Dio does not write biographies in the modern sense of
the word: his aim is not to show that someone’s individual character is different
from that of others.35 He rather uses biographical elements to organize his his-
toriographical text: they allow him to present his material around a dominating
figure, a device that has been termed “biostructuring”.36
Dio’s characterizations guide the reader and influence the narrative. They
often function as foils for other character depictions, or are used to negoti-
ate ethical and political topics.37 Like Plutarch (Alex. 1), Dio subscribes to the
idea that a person’s character can be explained by single, even minor actions
(ἀμέλει δύο ταῦτ’ εἰπὼν πάντα τὸν τρόπον αὐτοῦ δηλώσω, “indeed, two incidents
that I shall now relate will reveal his whole character”, 73[72].11.2). He therefore
includes such minor actions in his narrative even if they are not in line with the
dignity of historiography.38 The nature of Dio’s anecdotes thus lies both in their
information and in their entertainment.39 In combining direct characteriza-

33 Although Xiphilinus “tends to omit some of Dio’s attempts to explain the causes of events”
in general (Edmondson 1992, 29), this pertains less to explanations based on a person’s
character, because Xiphilinus shares Dio’s interest in biographical material: “Biographical
material dominates Xiphilinus’ selection. The layers and details of Dio’s historical nar-
rative are stripped away to accentuate and simplify the biographical elements of Dio’s
history” (Mallan 2013b, 643). Cf. p.176–177.
34 Cf. Pelling 1997, 117. See also Questa 1957, 37; 39; 52 (with reference to the aforementioned
biography of Arrian, which the Suda attributes to Dio).
35 Cf. Pelling 1997, 138.
36 See Pelling 1997, 118.
37 Cf. Mallan 2013a, 734. For the construction of Caracalla’s portrait in Cassius Dio see Dav-
enport 2012, 809.
38 See 65(66).9.4 on the inclusion of the anecdote that the young Domitian impaled flies on a
stylus: τοῦτο γὰρ εἰ καὶ ἀνάξιον τοῦ τῆς ἱστορίας ὄγκου ἐστίν, ἀλλ’ ὅτι γε ἱκανῶς τὸν τρόπον αὐτοῦ
ἐνδείκνυται, ἀναγκαίως ἔγραψα, καὶ μάλισθ’ ὅτι καὶ μοναρχήσας ὁμοίως αὐτὸ ἐποίει (“Unworthy
as this incident is of the dignity of history, yet, because it shows his character so well and
particularly because he still continued the practice after he became emperor, I have felt
obliged to record it.”)
39 Schmidt (Schmidt 2000, 21; 32) studies the numerous anecdotes in Dio’s contemporary
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 199

tions, often at the beginning and end of an emperor’s reign, with anecdotes and
instances of behaviour that support direct characterizations, character depic-
tion is always circular to a certain degree. The depiction of character is based
on the interpretation of a person’s actions, while single actions in their turn are
explained by character depiction.40
The character of Dio’s figures is rather fixed. However, a character can
develop, i.e. character traits can be suppressed for a while and break through
later. Dio’s Caligula, for example, undergoes a clear development for the worse
(τῷ δ’ αὐτῷ τούτῳ τρόπῳ καὶ ἐς τἆλλα πάντα ὡς εἰπεῖν ἐχρῆτο, “he went through
this same process of deterioration, too, in almost all other respects”, 59.3.1).
These developments often depend on the surroundings that shape a person’s
character. Dio attributes responsibility to those who determine an emperor’s
environment, especially his teachers, in forming his character. Education and
upbringing, in particular with regard to moderation, influence a character at
least to a certain degree.41 This becomes most apparent with Commodus. In his
characterization at the beginning of Commodus’ reign Dio explicitly states that
Commodus was not wicked by nature: he is characterized as innocent, simple,
cowardly, and ignorant (73[72].1.1).42 Dio blames his environment, which led
him astray and made him lascivious and cruel, habits to which Commodus
became accustomed and which he made his second nature.
The depiction of Nero’s character and his development follows a similar pat-
tern. The books on his principate start with an elaborate characterization that
consists of a general part (61.1–5) and a specific part (61.6).43 Dio points out that

history and discusses the influence of contemporary school teaching; sometimes Dio
aimed only at entertainment, not at providing information, so Schmidt (Schmidt 2000,
31; 34). I do not consider such a strict distinction as necessary or helpful: entertainment
and information can be closely connected, cf. Schulz 2019b.
40 Dio admits implicitly that he is aware of this problem. Dealing with the question of
whether Agrippina really seduced Nero he points out that he himself does not know. It
might well have been invented, he admits, as it fits her character (ἀλλ’ ἐκεῖνο μὲν εἴτ’ ἀλη-
θῶς ἐγένετο εἴτε πρὸς τὸν τρόπον αὐτῶν ἐπλάσθη οὐκ οἶδα, 62[61].11.4).
41 Cf. Kuhn-Chen 2002, 243. Underlining the importance of education as a Stoic feature, cf.
Gowing 1992, 30–31 on Dio and the Stoa.
42 οὗτος πανοῦργος μὲν οὐκ ἔφυ, ἀλλ’ εἰ καί τις ἄλλος ἀνθρώπων ἄκακος, ὑπὸ δὲ δὴ τῆς πολλῆς
ἁπλότητος καὶ προσέτι καὶ δειλίας ἐδούλευσε τοῖς συνοῦσι, καὶ ὑπ’ αὐτῶν ἀγνοίᾳ τὸ πρῶτον τοῦ
κρείττονος ἁμαρτὼν ἐς ἔθος κἀκ τούτου καὶ ἐς φύσιν ἀσελγῆ καὶ μιαιφόνον προήχθη (“this man
was not naturally wicked, but, on the contrary, as guileless as any man that ever lived. His
great simplicity, however, together with his cowardice, made him the slave of his com-
panions, and it was through them that he at first, out of ignorance, missed the better life
and then was led on into lustful and cruel habits, which soon became second nature”,
73[72].1.1).
43 Cf. 61.6.1: τοιοῦτος μὲν τὸ σύμπαν ὁ Νέρων ἐγένετο, λέξω δὲ καὶ καθ’ ἕκαστον (“Such was Nero’s
general character. I shall now proceed to details.”).
200 chapter 7

Nero’s environment, in particular his teachers Seneca and Burrus, is complicit

in his becoming a bad emperor, since their indulgent style of education does
not turn out to be successful (e.g. 61.4.2–5).44 Dio either does not know or at
least does not mention the version according to which there was a good begin-
ning to Nero’s principate: there is no so-called Quinquennium Neronis.45 For
Dio, Nero’s principate is bad from the start. All in all Nero’s character does not
become very complex in Dio, since with this emperor one usually gets what one
sees. Furthermore, Dio’s Nero conceals his desires less and less.46 With Dio’s
Nero, it is always clear how one has to behave to be safe. Those who are close to
him, listen to him, and applaud him are honoured. Those who do not applaud
him are punished (62[63].15.2).
Things are more complicated with Dio’s Domitian, although this emperor
does not undergo any development. He is an equally bad emperor from begin-
ning to end. The depiction of his principate also starts with an explicit charac-
terization, which underlines two main character traits: Domitian is bold and
quick to anger, and treacherous and secretive (Δομιτιανὸς δὲ ἦν μὲν καὶ θρασὺς
καὶ ὀργίλος, ἦν δὲ καὶ ἐπίβουλος καὶ κρυψίνους, 67.1.1). From these traits of char-
acter arise both his impulsiveness and his craftiness (ὥστε ἀφ’ ἑκατέρων τῶν μὲν
τὸ προπετὲς τῶν δὲ τὸ δόλιον ἔχων, 67.1.1). The most important difference from
Nero—which is at the same time the most crucial trait of Domitian for Dio’s
literary portrait—is his capacity for hypocrisy (67.1.3). The narrator can thus
draw a contrast between the inner motives and considerations of the protag-
onist and the events seen from the outside. The discrepancy between these two
layers provides arguments for everything that is contended about Domitian,
as it does in Tacitus.47 This technique is not exclusive to Dio’s description of
Domitian, but nowhere else is it applied as abundantly as with this emperor.

44 Especially Dio’s image of Seneca is very negative. He is against tyranny, but teaches a tyr-
ant. He supports the matricide (62[61].12.1), but was intimate with Agrippina (61.10.1). In
Plutarch, by contrast, Tigellinus is depicted as the tutor and teacher of the tyrant (τὸν
διδάσκαλον καὶ παιδαγωγὸν τῆς τυραννίδος Τιγελλῖνον, Plut. Galb. 17.2) who makes Nero
worthy of death (ποιήσας ἄξιονθανάτου Νέρωνα, Plut. Galb. 17.3).
45 Cf. Gowing 1997, 2565.
46 A first climax in the narrative of Nero’s reign is the murder of Britannicus. Afterwards
(61.7.5) Nero does not hold back anymore. He lives out all his desires in public without
fear of punishment. However, the emperor is still said to have made some attempt at con-
cealment (61.8.1; 61.9.1–2). The narrative becomes more dynamic with the second family
murder, the matricide. The important aspect for Dio is that Nero is now no longer cri-
ticized by others. Only Thrasea Paetus provides an exception (e.g. 62[61].15.1–4). A third
stage in the development is the rise of the praetorian prefect Tigellinus after Burrus’ death
(62.13.3).
47 See p.119–121 on (dis-)simulatio in Tacitus.
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 201

Not only is there a discrepancy between Domitian’s inner thoughts and his real
actions, which can go to extremes (πάντα τὰ ἐναντιώτατα ὧν ἐβούλετο σκηπτό-
μενος, “always pretending just the opposite of what he really desired”, 67.2.6;
cf. 67.1.3; 67.2.1–2).48 His character is also torn by inner inconsistencies, which
result in contradictory behaviour. This paradox of behaviour is Domitian’s
worst trait, because it presents a true dilemma to his surroundings. His sub-
jects cannot know how to behave. For example, Dio’s Domitian wants people
to flatter him, but he is content neither with those who flatter him nor with
those who do not.49
Dio’s Domitian here recalls Dio’s Tiberius, whose introductory characteriz-
ation exhibits many parallels with the last Flavian (57.1.1–6): Tiberius’ words
indicate the exact opposite of his real purpose (ἐναντιωτάτους τῇ προαιρέσει τοὺς
λόγους ποιούμενος, 57.1.1); he regards an enemy just the same as if he were a
most intimate companion (57.1.2); he gives people a vast amount of trouble no
matter whether they oppose him or agree with him (πάνυ γὰρ πολὺν ὄχλον παρεῖ-
χεν, εἴτε τις ἐναντιοῖτο οἷς ἔλεγεν εἴτε καὶ συναίροιτο, 57.1.5–6). Tiberius’ nephew
Caligula too is characterized by inconsistencies and contradictions (59.4.1).
Caligula hates those who love Tiberius just as he hates those who hate him
(59.4.2). We thus find the same aporetic situation as with Domitian: one does
not know how to act and speak to Caligula. Successful behaviour does not
depend on prudent deliberation but on chance (cf. 59.4.5).50

2.2 Contrasts: An Invitation to Compare

2.2.1 Direct Comparisons
To bring out an emperor’s character more clearly Dio often contrasts it with
another figure. This contrast invites the reader to draw a direct comparison,

48 Dio’s Pompey already strives to conceal his true intentions and pretends not to desire the
very things he really wishes (36.24.6).
49 See 67.4.2: καίτοι καὶ τοῦτο δεινότατον ἔσχεν, ὅτι καὶ κολακεύεσθαι ἤθελε, καὶ ἀμφοτέροις ὁμοίως
ἤχθετο καὶ τοῖς θεραπεύουσι καὶ τοῖς μή, τοῖς μὲν ὅτι θωπεύειν τοῖς δὲ ὅτι καταφρονεῖν ἐδόκουν
(“Yet Domitian had this worst quality of all, that he desired to be flattered, and was equally
displeased with both sorts of men, those who paid court to him and those who did not—
with the former because they seemed to be flattering him and with the latter because they
seemed to depise him”).
50 One case depicted (59.27.6) that escapes this dilemma is Lucius Vitellius’ answer to
Caligula’s question whether he has seen him talking to the moon goddess, as the emperor
claimed to have done: denying that one had seen Caligula and the moon goddess convers-
ing would run the risk of calling Caligula a liar, but confirming that one had seen them
might be interpreted as hubris. Vitellius manages to escape the dilemma by answering
that only the gods were allowed to see themselves.
202 chapter 7

which usually casts a bad light on the emperor.51 Dio exhibits a particular
interest in confronting Roman emperors with non-Romans. His Nero is mainly
contrasted with four figures: Boudicca, queen of the Britons; Corbulo, general
in Armenia; Tiridates, king of Armenia; and Vindex, leader of the revolt against
Nero.52 These contrasts produce four different effects, which deconstruct Nero
and which I will discuss one by one.
The contrast with Boudicca underlines the ridiculousness of Nero’s imper-
ial representation as an artist. As noted above, Nero’s behaviour as foreign
and unmanly is stressed even more when it is noted by Boudicca, a foreign
woman.53 The figure of Boudicca here largely takes over the narrator Dio’s point
of view.54 In her refined speech to the troops she pictures Nero as woman, as
empress of the Romans, and as a bad lyre-player (62.6.3; 5).55 Not only does
Boudicca contrast unmanly, servile Romans to manly, free Britons: according
to the queen, the Britons need not be afraid of the Romans, as they surpass
them anyway (62.3.1–5; 62.5.1–6).56 The narrator Dio also contrasts Boudicca
with his Nero and with the Nero she describes in her speech. As a speaker she
is more intelligent than women usually are (62.2.2). She speaks in a rough voice
(τὸ φθέγμα τραχὺ εἶχε, 62.2.4), which is untypical of women and contrasts with
Nero’s slight and indistinct voice (καίτοι καὶ βραχὺ καὶ μέλαν, ὥς γε παραδέδοται,
φώνημα ἔχων, 62[61].20.2).
The contrast between Nero and Corbulo illuminates Nero’s military deficien-
cies. Corbulo has the strategic and political competence that Nero lacks. He is
portrayed as the ideal Roman commander and as extremely loyal towards his
emperor (62.19.1–4; 62.23.5–6).57 His behaviour reminds the reader clearly of

51 For the Tacitean comparisons of Nero to Corbulo and of Domitian to Agricola see p.63–64.
52 Cf. Gowing 1997, 2584–2585. Galba too is portrayed as contrasting to Nero, especially as he
reverses Nero’s actions as soon as possible (62[63].14.1–2).
53 Differently from Tacitus, Dio underlines Boudicca’s (Amazon-like) foreignness, cf. Adler
2008, 190.
54 Dio’s general interest in Britain and the Britons is revealed in a report in his contemporary
history (77[76].12.1–5). He states there that the Britons take the most audacious men as
their leaders (77[76].12.2) and reports a critical statement by the wife of the Caledonian
Argentocoxus about Julia Domna, the wife of Septimius Severus (77[76].16.5). This state-
ment may be interpreted in the spirit of a Sittenspiegel or even as criticism of Julia Domna.
For this interpretation of the episode, according to which Dio is here criticizing Septimius
Severus’ wife, cf. Schmidt 2000, 22; Moscovich 2004, 363.
55 Xiphilinus most probably adopted Dio’s original speech verbatim, cf. Brunt 1980, 491.
56 Adler 2011, 140–161 (esp. 146–152; cf. 169; 173) deals with Boudicca’s speech and compares
it to the corresponding speech in Tacitus’ Annals. See also p.107.
57 Corbulo’s potential for power is mentioned already in the books on Claudius, where Dio
points out that Claudius called him back from Germany to prevent him from becoming
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 203

the role that the emperor should actually play and which Nero disregards. Tiri-
dates, portrayed as at the height of his reputation due to his age, beauty, family,
and intelligence (62[63].2.1), figures as the opposite sort of political leader com-
pared to Nero. Vindex, finally, combines some of these contrasts, being on the
one hand a foreigner descended from Gallic royalty, on the other hand a Roman
senator:58 he is depicted as a powerful, intelligent leader of the Gauls, skilled
in warfare and passionate for freedom (63.22.12).59
The narrative of Domitian is dominated by the contrasts with his father and
brother as well as with Decebalus, king of the Dacians. Dio’s rhetorical tech-
nique regarding the first contrast is simple: Vespasian and Titus were good
emperors,60 Domitian was a bad one; this is why Domitian has to be distin-
guished from his family predecessors. The opposition of Domitian to Vespasian
and Titus is a central motif especially at the beginning of his reign:61 Domi-
tian is said to have brought disgrace and ruin upon the friends of his father
and brother, to have attempted to insult Titus’ memory, and to have abol-
ished the horse-race that had been held on the birthday of Titus (67.2.1–7).
Throughout the depiction of the reign, the contrast persists. The emperor’s
behaviour towards Mettius Pompusianus, for example, is used to compare
Domitian, under whom he dies, to Vespasian, who had not harmed him
(67.12.3–4).

even more powerful (61[60].30.4–5). On Corbulo in Cassius Dio cf. Townend 1961, 234–237
(with a focus on Dio’s potential sources).
58 Cf. Gowing 1997, 2584–2586.
59 For Vindex adopting Dio’s own perspective see p.213–214 on embedded focalization.
60 Dio’s positive evaluation of Vespasian is in accord with his critique of Helvidius Priscus:
Vespasian is defended against Helvidius Priscus (65[66].12.1; 2–3). Titus is considered a
good emperor, but his reign was very short (66.18.4–5). This limitation on appreciation of
Titus may be motivated by experience of rulers who behaved differently at the beginning
of their reign from the later, more secure periods of their reign. Dio may be reacting with
his comparison of Augustus (and his long reign) and Titus (and his short reign) to the idea
that Titus was the ideal ruler, a discourse that is apparent in Suetonius (Tit. 1).
61 The contrast is developed already before the depiction of his reign, when Domitian is pic-
tured as afraid of his father because of what he had done and had intended to do (ὁ δὲ Δομι-
τιανός, ἐξ ὧν ἔδρασε καὶ πολλῷ μᾶλλον ἐξ ὧν ἐπεχείρησεν … φοβηθεὶς τὸν πατέρα, 65[66].3.4).
Titus, by contrast, participates successfully in the war against the Jews (65[66].4.1). Domi-
tian’s activities under his father and brother are hardly developed by Dio, but after the
victory of Vitellius he is depicted as in charge of the affairs of state together with Mucianus
in Rome, and he gives a speech in front of the soldiers (64[65].22.2; 65[66].2.1). We also
learn that Domitian has an affair with Domitia, whom he steals away from her husband
and marries (65[66].3.4), and we hear the anecdote about the impaling of flies on a stylus
(65[66].9.4). Furthermore, Domitian is said to have hastened Titus’ death (66.26.2).
204 chapter 7

More complex is the contrast created between Dio’s Domitian and Dece-
balus. These two characters can be said to form two points of a triangle, the
third point of which is not visible: that third character is Trajan, who also led a
war against Decebalus. Trajan’s war against Decebalus appears the more praise-
worthy if Domitian’s war against Decebalus is depicted as unsuccessful. Dio’s
description of this war appears indeed to be influenced by Trajanic propa-
ganda, or at least to be in accord with it.62 The figure of Decebalus thus provides
a direct link between Domitian and Trajan and is a tool for comparing Tra-
jan’s success to Domitian’s failure. To support this comparison, Dio’s Decebalus
enters the scene as king of the Dacians right at the beginning of the narrative
about the Danubic wars (μέγιστος δὲ δὴ πόλεμος Ῥωμαίοις τότε πρὸς τοὺς Δακοὺς
ἐγένετο, ὧν τότε Δεκέβαλος ἐβασίλευε, “at this time the Romans became involved
in a very serious war with the Dacians, whose king was then Decebalus”, 67.6.1).
As far as we know, the historical Decebalus became involved in the events
depicted here only later in the year 86CE. But when Dio introduces Decebalus
as shrewd in his understanding of warfare and in the waging of war (δεινὸς μὲν
συνεῖναι τὰ πολέμια δεινὸς δὲ καὶ πρᾶξαι, 67.6.1) and as a worthy antagonist of the
Romans from the beginning of the campaign (ἀνταγωνιστὴς ἀξιόμαχος, 67.6.1),
Domitian can be contrasted to his counterpart from the very start of the depic-
tion. And Dio’s Decebalus proves to be superior to Dio’s Domitian in the course
of the narrative. In the end, Decebalus even dares to ask for unacceptable terms
for peace with the Romans (67.6.5), which is why the peace negotiations fail.
When the story is picked up later in the Trajan narrative, the contrast between
Domitian and Trajan is made explicit through Decebalus’ relationship with
both Domitian and Trajan and through his focalization of them, a device that
we will study more thoroughly below.63 When Decebalus hears that Trajan is
approaching, he becomes frightened, since he knows that on the former occa-
sion he had conquered only Domitian, whereas now he would be fighting both
against the Romans and against the emperor Trajan (ἅτε καὶ εὖ εἰδὼς ὅτι πρότε-
ρον μὲν οὐ Ῥωμαίους ἀλλὰ Δομιτιανὸν ἐνενικήκει, τότε δὲ ὡς πρός τε Ῥωμαίους καὶ
πρὸς Τραϊανὸν αὐτοκράτορα πολεμήσοι, 68.6.2).
Dio applies this technique of contrasting foils throughout his work: most
striking are the contrasts between Tiberius and Germanicus, and between
Commodus and Marcus Aurelius. For Tiberius the death of Germanicus is
depicted as a watershed moment in his principate.64 While still alive he had

62 Cf. Strobel 1989, whose analysis of Domitian’s Danubian wars is the basis for the account
of the historical events mentioned in this paragraph.
63 See p.211–215 on embedded focalization.
64 See 57.19.1 and 57.19.8: τὸ μὲν οὖν σύμπαν οὕτω μετὰ τὸν τοῦ Γερμανικοῦ θάνατον μετεβάλετο
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 205

provided a positive contrast to Tiberius (cf. 57.18.6–8). It was obviously good

for Rome that Tiberius had a rival, since after his death Tiberius’ reign takes
a turn for the worse. The caesura of Germanicus’ death is further underlined
by the fact that now Sejanus becomes more powerful. Depicted as an import-
ant figure in the narrative, Sejanus has a bad character that strongly differs from
the good Germanicus.65 Tiberius supports Sejanus, as he recognizes a character
similar to his own (τοῦτον οὖν ὁ Τιβέριος ἐκ τῆς τῶν τρόπων ὁμοιότητος προσλαβών,
57.19.7). The contrast between two figures is even more obvious between Dio’s
Marcus Aurelius and Commodus. The most striking caesura in Dio’s depiction
of the Roman Empire is when Marcus Aurelius dies and Commodus succeeds
him. Dio states that a Golden Age now turns into one of iron and rust (περὶ οὗ
ἤδη ῥητέον, ἀπὸ χρυσῆς τε βασιλείας ἐς σιδηρᾶν καὶ κατιωμένην τῶν τε πραγμάτων
τοῖς τότε Ῥωμαίοις καὶ ἡμῖν νῦν καταπεσούσης τῆς ἱστορίας, “this matter must be
our next topic; for our history now descends from a kingdom of gold to one of
iron and rust, as affairs did for the Romans of that day”, 72[71].36.4). The caesura
is here recognized on three different levels of the narrative: in the perception
of Commodus’ contemporaries (τοῖς τότε Ῥωμαίοις), in the perception of Dio’s
own time (ἡμῖν), and as Dio’s topic in his work (περὶ οὗ ἤδη ῥητέον).
As we have just seen with regard to Tiberius and Sejanus, a contrast may be
achieved through the comparison with another negative figure too. This is not a
comparison of good and bad, but of different degrees of badness. Dio suggests a
comparison of Nero and Helius, who is in charge of the affairs of state in Rome
during Nero’s absence in Greece. According to Dio it is difficult to decide which
one was worse, since they behaved entirely alike in most respects. The only dif-
ference was that the descendant of Augustus was emulating lyre-players and
tragedians, whereas the freedman of Claudius was emulating Caesars (ὅτι ὁ μὲν
τοῦ Αὐγούστου ἀπόγονος κιθαρῳδοὺς καὶ τραγῳδούς, ὁ δὲ τοῦ Κλαυδίου ἀπελεύθερος
Καίσαρας ἐζήλου, 62[63].12.2). Even Agrippina, a negative character, can provide
such a contrast, in her role as educator and admonisher of Nero. Dio’s attitude
towards her is not at all benevolent. When he chooses Agrippina of all people
as a positive foil to Nero (61.4.4; 61.5.4) this makes the criticism of Nero even
more effective than if he had compared the emperor only to good characters.

ὥστε αὐτὸν μεγάλως καὶ πρότερον ἐπαινούμενον πολλῷ δὴ τότε μᾶλλον θαυμασθῆναι (“In fine,
Tiberius changed so much after the death of Germanicus that, whereas previously he had
been highly praised, he now caused even greater amazement”).
65 Only an epitomized version of the text of book 57 has come down to us in this passage,
but the caesura is still remarkable and may have been further developed in Dio’s original.
206 chapter 7

2.2.2 Same Place, Same Time

Dio also indirectly characterizes emperors by describing events that happen at
the same place (but at different times), and by events that happen at the same
time (but at different places).66 Just like character contrasts, such remarks on
the identity of places or times invite the reader to compare. They make him or
her associate events with each other that would not necessarily have to be con-
nected. Dio knows that the assertion that certain events occurred at the same
place can be styled as a meaningful sign, as we can see from his report of the
death of Narcissus. Narcissus is killed at Messalina’s tomb, which Dio ostensibly
considers as mere chance, but he adds that it seemed to be in fulfilment of Mes-
salina’s vengeance (61[60].34.6). To associate two events with each other, Dio
mentions that Nero, after his performance at the Iuvenalia, gave a feast on boats
at the place where Augustus had once arranged a naval battle (62[61].20.5). This
is one of several instances in which the contrast between Nero and Augustus
is evoked, this time through identity of place. Dio’s Vitellius gets a rope around
his neck and is led down from the palace. When Dio adds that this was the place
where he had previously revelled (64[65].20.2), this is not a simple naming of
the location but also an implicit reason for the rope around his neck and a hint
at the inconstancy of fortune. Septimius Severus is mentioned already in the
Trajan narrative when Hatra becomes a topic; Dio thereby invites the reader
to draw a comparison between these two rulers (68.31.2).67 And when Dio tells
us that Marcus Aurelius lived in Tiberius’ house (72[71].35.4) the reader may be
relieved for a moment that a good emperor has taken up that place and func-
tion now.
That things happen at the same time may suggest that they are connected.
Dio’s Livia arouses suspicion because Tiberius’ return from Rhodes coincides
with the death of Augustus’ grandsons Lucius and Gaius (55.10a.10). However,
the contrast between the simultaneous events may be highlighted too and
underline their discrepancy. Describing Nero’s reign, Dio achieves a strong con-
trast when he opposes the events in Rome, Nero’s Iuvenalia and Neronia, which
he evaluates as child’s play, to the horrible events in Britain taking place at
the same time (ἐν ᾧ δὲ ταῦτα ἐν τῇ Ῥώμῃ ἐπαίζετο, πάθος ἐν τῇ Βρεττανίᾳ δει-
νὸν συνηνέχθη, 62.1.1).68 The contrast is supported by the wordplay of ἐπαίζετο,

66 Saïd 2002, 133 discusses the motif of the same location of events as a tragic element in
Herodotus (e.g. Hdt. 1.11.5; Soph. El. 1495–1496). For the Romans’ fascination with events
happening on the same day see Feeney 2007, 158–160.
67 For the role of Hatra in the imperial representation of Septimius Severus see p.182.
68 The contrast is highlighted again when, after the depiction of events in Britain, Dio con-
trasts “Rome” directly (καὶ τὰ μὲν Βρεττανικὰ ἐπὶ τοσοῦτον, ἐν δὲ τῇ Ῥώμῃ ὁ Νέρων …, 62.13.1).
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 207

which sounds a little like the expected ἐπράττετο: Nero only “played” instead
of “doing” something. Discrepancy can be brought out well in the annalistic
structure, which itself invites readers to see events that happen in the same
year as being simultaneous. For the year 66CE, the description of which begins
annalistically, Dio mentions two events that are immediately characterized as
opposed but taking place in the same year (ἐπὶ δὲ Γαΐου Τελεσίνου καὶ ἐπὶ Σουη-
τωνίου Παυλίνου ὑπάτων εὐδοξότατόν τε ἅμα ἔργον καὶ ἕτερον αἴσχιστον ἐγένετο,
“in the consulship of Gaius Telesinus and Suetonius Paulinus one event of great
glory and another of deep disgrace took place at the same time”, 62[63].1.1). One
is evaluated as highly glorious, namely Tiridates’ visit to Rome, the other one as
disgraceful, namely Nero’s performances as singer and charioteer.

2.3 Focalization
2.3.1 The Emperor’s Motives
To make portraits of his characters more plausible the narrator can also reveal
what they think and feel and what motivates their actions. This is a device of
narrators in historiography in general, which we have already encountered in
our discussion of Tacitus.69 In a similar way Dio constantly gives insight into
the considerations and motivations of his figures. This technique of focaliza-
tion guides the reader through the text, but it also determines his or her view
of specific forms of imperial representation and an emperor’s behaviour.70
There are several insights into Nero’s inner life that shape our negative image
of him, such as his emotions depicted after the murder of Agrippina. Dio’s
Nero seems confused: he cannot believe that the murder has really taken place
(although he planned it himself), because the deed seems so monstrous to
him that it makes him incredulous; his bad conscience haunts him at night
(62[61].14.1–4). This focalization of Nero runs counter to the official version,
which was that Agrippina had initiated a conspiracy, which was uncovered, and
that she therefore killed herself (62[61].14.3). The description of Nero’s thoughts
and feelings contradicts this official version and supports the version that Dio
has just presented. Dio’s Nero himself does not seem to be sure which version
he favours: on the one hand, he holds games in Agrippina’s honour (62[61].17.2);
on the other hand, he celebrates numerous sacrifices for his, as he said, pre-
servation (62[61].18.3). Throughout his life, Dio’s Nero feels guilty about the

69 See p.109–114.
70 Cf. Pelling 2009a, 515–519 on the technique of focalization with the example of the depic-
tion of Julius Caesar. For the application of the term “focalization” to characters in histori-
ographical narratives cf. Pelling 2009a, 509 n. 5. The alternative term as used e.g. by Rood
1998, is “gaze”.
208 chapter 7

matricide. This is at least implied when during his tour in Greece he stays away
from Athens because of the tale of the Furies, who hunt down those who have
committed matricide (διὰ τὸν περὶ τῶν Ἐρινύων λόγον, 62[63].14.3). On his flight
shortly before his death, guilt and repentance over the murders that he com-
mitted are still on Nero’s mind (63.28.4–5).
In these cases, the focalization of Nero supports the impression of a negative
deed presented in the narrative. But focalizing the emperor’s reflections, motiv-
ations, and intentions is particularly effective when they oppose and thereby
deconstruct an imperial action presented as neutral or even positive on the
surface of the narrative. When Dio’s Nero withdraws the soldiers from the gath-
erings of the people, he claims to be doing so because they are supposed to
fulfil military duties only. But the narrator gives a different reason for Nero’s
action, which contradicts the official, positive one: Nero’s real purpose was to
give as much freedom as possible to those causing disturbances (τὸ δ’ ἀληθὲς ἵν’
ὅτι πλείστη τοῖς τι βουλομένοις ταράσσειν ἐξουσία εἴη, 61.8.3). That Dio’s Nero does
not act against the accusations of people who contend that he killed Agrip-
pina could also be used as a point in his favour. But Dio deconstructs such
a positive interpretation: the real reason for Nero was that he did not want
to support the rumour, or else that he felt contempt for anything people said
(62[61].16.3).
The depiction of Domitian’s reign starts with the same technique. Dio nar-
rates something potentially positive for the emperor: Domitian issues a pro-
clamation that an emperor who fails to punish informers is himself creating
informers (67.1.4). But the reason for Domitian’s proclamation, as previously
stated, has already framed it in a negative way: by punishing informers Dio’s
Domitian only wants to conceal his own share in their wrongdoings (67.1.4).
The technique of focalization is particularly important for the portrayal of
Domitian, who is depicted as extremely skilled at simulation. At the same
time, his historical imperial representation was less suitable for deconstruc-
tion through associations with, for example, femininity or foreignness, as we
have seen both in Tacitus and in Dio.71 This explains why the analysis of inner
thoughts and motives by means of focalization is a suitable device for Domi-
tian’s deconstruction. It is worth studying one passage in more detail in order
to distinguish between what the text establishes as ‘facts’ and what the text
constructs as their alleged motivation. The passage under consideration deals
with Domitian’s distance from his brother and father (67.2.1–7). I will first para-
phrase it, underlining the contrasts between facts and motives.

71 See p.104–105; 188.

strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 209

Dio starts by contending that Domitian outdid himself in ruining the friends
of his father and brother. The epitomized text does not give any evidence for
this contention. We are rather surprised to read next that Domitian approved
all the donations that were ever made by his brother, his father, or other emper-
ors, which is a potentially positive act (67.2.1). However, Domitian’s seemingly
positive gesture is deconstructed right away: Dio claims that this was a mere
vain show (ἀλλὰ τοῦτο μὲν καλλώπισμα ἄλλως ἦν), that Domitian hated the
friends of his family predecessors and considered them his enemies (67.2.2).
Next we hear that Domitian instituted a ban on castration. He did so in spite of
the fact that he himself entertained a passion for the eunuch Earinus.72 The ban
on castration could therefore potentially be coded as an act of regarding the
general interest as more important than personal preferences. Or it could also
be interpreted as an act of hypocrisy: Domitian prohibits things from which
he himself profits. Dio, however, decides for a third option: the explanation he
presents for Domitian’s ban on castration turns it into something even more
negative and connects it to his brother Titus. According to Dio, the real reason
for Domitian’s prohibition was Titus’ great fondness of eunuchs. With his ban
on castration Dio’s Domitian wants to insult Titus’ memory (ἐπὶ ἐκείνου ὕβρει)
(67.2.3).
Next in Dio comes Domitian’s statement that emperors who do not pun-
ish many people are not good emperors, but only fortunate ones. Dio does not
comment on this statement which cannot be regarded as completely wrong.
In its critical context however one is inclined to interpret it in a negative way
(67.2.3). The following reproach is directed against something that Domitian
did not do: he did not care about the praise for Titus’ not killing a single sen-
ator,73 and he ignored the wish of the senate to pass decrees that the emperor
must not have any senator put to death. Dio goes on to explain the import-
ance of Domitian’s disregarding the senators. He tells us that it made a great
difference to the senators whether they were involved in the condemnation of

72 This Earinus mentioned by Dio is praised in Domitian’s contemporary poetry, where his
praise is used to exalt Domitian. See the poems on Earinus in Martial’s book 9 and Stat.
Silv. 3.4 with Hardie 1983, 121–124; Newlands 2002, 88–118; Lorenz 2002, 194; Leberl 2004,
229–241; Cordes 2017, 137; 225.
73 Dio’s Nerva makes the promise under oath (68.2.3), similarly to Trajan (68.5.2) and Hadrian
(69.2.4). Marcus Aurelius surpasses the promise in a positive way: he implements the rule,
against the wishes of the senate, that no supporter of Cassius shall be killed (72[71].30.1–
2). Cf. also Pertinax, who is depicted as a very civil princeps (74[73].8.5; cf. 74[73].3.4; 5.1).
Septimius Severus makes this promise too, but he does not fulfil it (75[74].2.1–2), as men-
tioned above.
210 chapter 7

a senator or not (67.2.4).74 The following contention, that Domitian knew that
the senators praised Titus in secret, is again not supported in the preserved
text (67.2.5). We hear next that Domitian showed his sorrow over Titus’ death
openly and that he showed tears while delivering his eulogy. Furthermore, the
emperor deifies Titus. All these imperial actions are deconstructed by giving us
an insight into Domitian’s mind. According to Dio, the emperor’s sorrow was
only simulated. Domitian is said to have pretended the exact opposite of what
he really wanted (πάντα τὰ ἐναντιώτατα ὧν ἐβούλετο σκηπτόμενος, 67.2.6). Dio
aims to make Domitian’s hatred of his brother Titus seem plausible by stat-
ing that Domitian abolished the horse race that was held on Titus’ birthday
(67.2.6).75 At the end of the passage Dio emphasizes the consequences that
arise from Domitian’s insincerity and the discrepancy between his thoughts
and feelings on the one hand and his very different actions on the other hand:
the people were not safe no matter whether they shared in his grief or in his joy
(καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι οὔθ’ ὅπως συνάχθοιντο οὔθ’ ὅπως συνήδοιντο ἀσφαλῶς εἶχον, 67.2.7).
A summary of Domitian’s actions as presented in this passage is hard to
produce because Domitian’s deeds are not connected with each other in the
narrative and are not presented as the main components of this passage. The
recurrent theme is rather Domitian’s motivations for what he does, his hidden
feelings which Dio’s focalization seems to expose. It is this motivation that con-
nects the events mentioned, most likely not only in the epitomized version of
the text that has come down to us, but in the original too. When we consider the
passage as a whole, Dio does not give much exact evidence for his contentions.
In fact, when we look at the surface of events described we find several posit-
ive deeds: Dio’s Domitian approves the gifts granted by his father and brother,
he forbids castration, he asserts that an emperor is lucky who does not have to
punish many people, he openly mourns Titus’ death, and he deifies his brother.
The only facts presented that oppose this positive image of Domitian are that
he does not generally promise not to kill any senator and that he abolishes the
horse race on Titus’ birthday. Presented like this, the facts would achieve a very
different effect. But the constant focus on Domitian’s alleged true motivation
overshadows the facts and makes the negative layer of Domitian’s thought and
feelings instead emerge most clearly.

74 When Dio adds that the senators could not oppose the emperor anyway, he slightly con-
tradicts himself: he has just mentioned one of the senators’ endeavours to increase their
own power. Cf. Murison 1999, 212.
75 Cf. the request to abolish the horse race on Caracalla’s birthday after his death in 79
(78).18.1.
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 211

2.3.2 Embedded Focalization

The narrator not only presents the emperor’s motivation and focalizes his
figure; he also depicts the events from the perspective of another character.
Narratology terms this device, by which the narrator shows what a character
sees, feels, and thinks, ‘embedded focalization’. Embedded focalization can be
accompanied by speech, so that a character is not only a focalizer but also a
secondary narrator-focalizer. In our analysis of Tacitus, we have already seen
such instances, in which the perception of the events is directed through the
eyes (and words) of a character.76 Dio makes abundant use of this device
and employs various kinds of focalizers with different relationships with the
emperor to deconstruct imperial representation and behaviour.
Focalizers may be close relatives of the emperor, which implies that their
view of the emperor is based on intimate acquaintance and hence is plausible.
For example, the reader sees that Tiberius chooses Caligula as his successor
through Tiberius’ focalization. Tiberius is said to have appointed his nephew
Caligula because he knew that Caligula’s misdeeds would be even worse than
his own (58.23.3–4). In this way, Tiberius’ focalization of Caligula disqualifies
both emperors at once. Dio’s Nero is discredited through the focalization of his
parents, who exhibit their son’s bad character. His biological father Domitius
is said to have recognized Nero’s depravity and licentiousness because he was
familiar with his own and Agrippina’s character, and to have stated that no good
man could possibly be sprung from these parents.77 As this statement discred-
its both the person who utters it and his closest kin, it creates the impression
of being trustworthy. Agrippina too assesses Nero’s reputation rightly. Dio has
her kill the commendable governor of Asia, Silanus, in order to prevent him
from being preferred to Nero for his manner of life (ἵνα μὴ καὶ τοῦ Νέρωνος οὕτω
ζῶντος προκριθείη, 61.6.5). At the important turning point when Titus’ emperor-
ship is passed on to Domitian, Dio’s dying Titus mentions two of his mistakes.
He does not make them explicit, but Dio is sure that one of these mistakes was
that Titus did not kill Domitian (66.26.4). Among the contemporary emperors,
Commodus’ obtuseness is recognized by his mother Faustina, who is for this

76 See p.121–123.
77 See 61.2.3: καίτοι καὶ τὴν πονηρίαν καὶ τὴν ἀσέλγειαν τὴν τοῦ Νέρωνος καὶ ὁ Δομίτιος ὁ πατὴρ
ἱκανῶς, οὐκ ἐκ μαντείας ἀλλ’ ἐκ τῶν τρόπων τῶν τε ἑαυτοῦ καὶ τῶν τῆς Ἀγριππίνης, προεί-
δετο, καὶ εἶπεν ὅτι “ἀδύνατόν ἐστιν ἄνδρα τινὰ ἀγαθὸν ἔκ τε ἐμοῦ καὶ ἐκ ταύτης γεννηθῆναι”
(“Yet Domitius, the father of Nero, foresaw clearly enough his son’s future depravity and
licentiousness, and this not as the result of any oracle but by his knowledge of his own
and Agrippina’s character; for he declared: ‘It is impossible for any good man to be sprung
from me and this woman.’ ”).
212 chapter 7

reason afraid that the throne might not pass from her husband Marcus Aure-
lius to her son (72[71].22.3). Dio’s Elagabalus is hated by his own grandmother
(80[79].19.4).
In the narrative about Nero we frequently see events through the eyes of
the people. This is not without significance since Dio in general does not con-
sider the people to be a relevant factor in political power.78 That he nevertheless
presents the people as a focalizer in his narrative has an intriguing effect: we
can consider it a strategy to deconstruct the support that Nero supposedly
found among this social group.79 In Dio’s account, the people detect that Nero
punishes others for misdeeds that he commits himself, and they are amused
over this (τοῖς δὲ δὴ ἄλλοις γέλωτα ἰσχυρὸν παρέσχεν, ὅτι τὰ ἑαυτοῦ ἔργα δι’ ἑτέρων
ἐκόλασεν, 61.7.6). According to Dio, the masses realize that the fact that Nero
takes away Agrippina’s guards reveals his hatred of her (61.8.4). They hope that
the matricide will lead to Nero’s end (62[61].15.1), and they revere him only in
public (δημοσίᾳ μὲν), not in private (ἰδίᾳ δέ), where they tear him to shreds (μάλα
αὐτὸν ἐσπάραττον) (62[61].16.1). The people want to see Corbulo in Nero’s place
(62.19.4). Finally, they react happily when Nero is on the run: they offer sacri-
fices and wear liberty caps (63.29.1).
The focalization of Nero through the contrasting figures of Boudicca, Tirid-
ates, Corbulo, and Vindex is especially effective. We have already discussed the
role of Nero in Boudicca’s speech, which invites the reader to draw a compar-
ison between the Roman emperor and the British leader:80 here the narrator
Dio clearly intrudes upon his figure’s focalization. The figure of Tiridates is used
by the narrator to present the events during his visit to Rome (62[63].1.2–6.2)
from his perspective. The depiction of this event starts off as positive and suc-
cessful for Nero. Nero’s staging of Tiridates’ coronation in a golden setting even
makes the people call the day “golden” (ἀφ’ οὗ καὶ τὴν ἡμέραν αὐτὴν χρυσῆν ἐπ-
ωνόμασαν, 62[63].6.1). But this positive impression is deconstructed soon after
by Nero’s public performances as singer and charioteer (62[63].6.3), which are
presented through Tiridates’ focalization. He reacts to Nero’s performances by
feeling disgust for him, and praises Corbulo (62[63].6.4), which ties in with the

78 Cf. de Blois 1997, 2659; de Blois 1999, 275.

79 Harriet Flower detects a similar function in the pseudo-Senecan Octavia, the recipients
of which were, unlike Dio’s readers, the people themselves (“The Octavia dramatizes the
need to create a negative picture of Nero and to present that picture to the general public
in the city”, Flower 2006, 205). For a different way of deconstructing Nero’s popularity with
the masses in critical discourse see p.70–71 on Tacitus, who depicts Nero and the masses
as equally bad.
80 See p.201–205 on direct comparisons.
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 213

contrast between Nero and Corbulo constructed by the narrator. The emperor
is now shown as not following the advice that Maecenas gives to Octavian
in his programmatic speech, namely that the emperor should adorn the city
and make it magnificent with festivals, so that brilliance will inspire Rome’s
allies with respect and its enemies with terror (52.30.1).81 Instead of awe or ter-
ror, Tiridates experiences aversion. The reflections of Corbulo, whose loyalty
is also described by the narrator-focalizer and confirmed by Nero’s and Tirid-
ates’ focalizations, are revealed to the reader at the moment of his death. Dio’s
Corbulo now realizes for the first time that he has done wrong in saving the
“lyre-player” and coming to him unarmed (τότε γὰρ δή, τότε πρῶτον ἐπίστευσεν
ὅτι κακῶς ἐπεποιήκει καὶ φεισάμενος τοῦ κιθαρῳδοῦ καὶ πρὸς αὐτὸν ἐλθὼν ἄνοπλος,
62[63].17.6). When the character Corbulo here calls Nero a “lyre-player” in his
mind, he seems to be picking up the term directly from the suspicion just
presented by the narrator, who claimed that Nero had Corbulo killed because
he did not want to be seen by him in his dress—the long ungirded tunic—as
a lyre-player (κιθαρῳδήσειν γὰρ ἤμελλεν, ὥς τινες λέγουσι, καὶ οὐχ ὑπέμεινεν αὐτῷ
τὸ ὀρθοστάδιον ἔχων ὀφθῆναι, 62[63].17.5). The focalizer Corbulo here supports
what the narrator-focalizer has just suggested.
The same sort of interplay between the narrator’s focalization and embed-
ded focalization characterizes the speech of Vindex. It is from Vindex as focal-
izer and narrator that we learn the main reasons for the uprising against Nero
and the complaints about him (63.22.2–6).82 From a narratological viewpoint
we can see again that Dio blends the voice and view of the primary nar-
rator with the focalizer. Focalization always entails ambivalence to a certain
degree.83 The reader cannot clearly know whether to attribute the view and
words of a secondary narrator-focalizer to this character or to the primary
narrator-focalizer. The two levels overlap in particular when the character Vin-
dex neatly summarizes the points that the narrator Dio has made about Nero.
Vindex mentions Nero’s despoiling the world, his destroying the senate, the
matricide, his not preserving the semblance of sovereignty, his marriages with

81 Marcus Aurelius too takes the perspective of other people into account: the barbarians
ought not to notice internal Roman struggles (λέγων μὴ χρῆναι τοὺς βαρβάρους εἰδέναι τὰ
μεταξὺ Ῥωμαίων κινούμενα κακά, 72[71].27.1a). For Dio’s Seneca and Burrus in 61.3.4 see
p.188–189.
82 The members of the Pisonian conspiracy had similarly given the reason that they could
no longer endure Nero’s disgraceful behaviour, his licentiousness, and his cruelty (62.24.1).
Subrius Flavius, a military tribune, says he had hoped that Nero might some day become
a good emperor. But he, Subrius, could not be the slave of a charioteer and lyre-player
(62.24.2).
83 Cf. de Jong 2014, 52.
214 chapter 7

Sporus and Pythagoras, his performances in the theatre as lyre-player, singer,

herald, and tragic actor in the most disgraceful roles, and his abuse of sacred
titles (63.22.3–6). In a sort of mise-en-abyme the frame narrative is mirrored in
the speech of the secondary narrator Vindex. One is almost under the impres-
sion that Vindex has read the Roman History.84 Indeed the speech, which
would surely have been less relevant to Vindex’ audience of Gauls, is extremely
important for Dio’s own narrative.85 Dio’s Vindex, to put it differently, does not
give the speech for his internal audience, but for Dio’s readers, the external
audience.
This technique is related to the narratological devices of metalepsis and
paralepsis. Metalepsis refers to the overlap of two narrative levels of different
hierarchies, for example when an external narrator suddenly meets his own
characters.86 In a strict sense this is not the case in our passage: Dio and Vin-
dex do not meet, but the mise-en-abyme effect does make the two hierarchies of
narrative overlap. We speak of paralepsis when a character in a narrative gives
or has more information than he ought to have from a logical viewpoint. The
narrator then intrudes upon the focalization of his character and has him tell
or see more than his focalization would strictly allow.87 In a strict sense, again,
this is not the case in our passage: Dio’s Vindex could in theory indeed know
what he says. However, Vindex uses the exact words of the primary narrator,
as though he knew them, and he seems to be addressing his primary narrator’s
audience rather than his own.
The ambivalence of embedded focalization is used to a different effect when
the narrator and the embedded focalizer, who normally differ in their atti-
tude, suddenly coincide. The intrusion of the narrator upon his character then
makes the character suddenly seem to see himself through the eyes of the
narrator and to judge himself not by his own but by the narrator’s standards.
We have touched upon one example regarding Nero already. When explain-
ing Nero’s murder of Corbulo Dio refers the reader to people who said that
Nero did not want to be seen by Corbulo in his unmanly dress as a lyre-player
(ὥς τινες λέγουσι), and seems to agree with them (62[63].17.5). This explana-

84 Much of the material of Vindex’ speech recalls the depiction of Nero’s trip to Greece, cf.
Edmondson 1992, 237.
85 Cf. Gowing 1997, 2585.
86 For ancient examples see de Jong 2014, 42. Similar to de Jong’s example, in which Helen
announces the song of which she will be a part, namely the Iliad (Hom. Il. 6.357–358),
Dio’s Thrasea announces that men will talk of him after his death (ἐμοῦ μὲν γὰρ πέρι καὶ
ἔπειτα λόγος τις ἔσται, 62[61].15.4).
87 Ancient examples of both are provided by de Jong 2014, 53 (for embedded focalization);
60 (for secondary narrators).
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 215

tion, however, is totally un-Neronian and sounds more like that of the narrator
himself.88 It does not tie in with his self-conscious representation as artist in
other passages. Paradoxically, Nero’s behaviour appears especially illogical and
inconsistent with himself when his reasons are presented as logical from the
point of view of the narrator.89 Likewise, when Dio’s Domitian causes the death
of many spectators during a naval battle in the theatre because he forbids them
to put on warmer clothes when a rainstorm suddenly arises (67.8.2–3), the feast
that follows this event is introduced as a compensation act (ἐφ’ ᾧ που παραμυ-
θούμενος αὐτοὺς δεῖπνόν σφισι δημοσίᾳ διὰ πάσης τῆς νυκτὸς παρέσχε, “by way, no
doubt, of consoling the people for this, he provided for them at public expense
a dinner lasting all night”, 67.8.4), as we learn from the emperor’s perspective.
Domitian’s focalization seems to provide proof of Domitian’s guilt. Likewise,
under Commodus, the brothers Condianus and Maximus raise the suspicion
that they are not content with the status quo because their qualifications are
so good: a great reputation for learning, military skills, brotherly affection, and
wealth (73[72].5.3). The focalizer Commodus is here evaluating them by the
criteria of the narrator, not his own.

3 The Rhetoric of Combination

3.1 Imperial Actions in Disproportion

The motivation of a figure is relevant not only for character depiction, which
we have studied in the previous section. The presentation and discussion of
reasons for (imperial) behaviour also offers the narrator the opportunity to
style himself as a trustworthy analyst of history. The Dionian narrator claims
to expose certain official reasons for imperial behaviour as bogus, for example
when Cremutius Cordus’ historiographical work is revealed to be a false reason
for his downfall (57.24.3–4). Sometimes the official version and Dio’s own, true
version are explicitly labelled as such, as in the case of Antinous’ death: he died
either by falling into the Nile, as Hadrian wrote, or, “as the truth is”, when he was
sacrificed (εἴτ’ οὖν ἐς τὸν Νεῖλον ἐκπεσών, ὡς Ἁδριανὸς γράφει, εἴτε καὶ ἱερουργη-

88 We find the same phenomenon when Commodus is described as ashamed of his wish
to perform openly as a charioteer, and hence does it only in the obscurity of the night
(73[72].17.1).
89 Since even Dio’s Nero is convinced of Corbulo’s loyalty, the text does not suggest any
other reason for the murder. There are no hints at a conspiracy, e.g. with the Sulpicii, in
the extant text. For a possible connection with the conspiracy of Annius Vinicianus see
Edmondson 1992, 241 with further references.
216 chapter 7

θείς, ὡς ἡ ἀλήθεια ἔχει, 69.11.2). Similarly, the reason for Marcus Aurelius’ death
was not illness, as the official version claimed; he rather died—“as I was plainly
told”—by the act of his physicians, who wished to do Commodus a favour (οὐχ
ὑπὸ τῆς νόσου ἣν καὶ τότε ἐνόσησεν, ἀλλ’ ὑπὸ τῶν ἰατρῶν, ὡς ἐγὼ σαφῶς ἤκουσα, τῷ
Κομμόδῳ χαριζομένων, 72[71].33.42).
In analysing and deconstructing the causes and consequences of imper-
ial behaviour the narrator makes use of the relationship between reason and
action: actions consequently appear inadequate and disproportionate. I would
like to distinguish four different variants of the inadequacy or disproportion
of imperial actions and their causes or consequences in Dio. First, the reason
that results in an action is often depicted as vain and irrelevant. Second, an
action and its price can be out of proportion. Third, imperial actions are eval-
uated as inadequate when they result in social inversion. Fourth, imperial
actions are depicted as disproportionate when they are based on a contradic-
tion between what the emperor does and what he claims are his principles of
behaviour.
(1) The first type of disproportion concerns a conflict between an imperial
action and its trivial reason; this type pertains most often to the murders that
an emperor commits or for which he is responsible: the reasons are presen-
ted as bagatelles or as irrelevant. When reasons for murders are given only
briefly or without a context that explains them, this is most probably not
only the result of the epitomization of our text: we find this strategy also
in the account of Caligula, which has been preserved in its original form.
Under Caligula a man is charged with maiestas and put to death, according
to Dio, because he sold hot water. Dio considers this a key incident for all
that happened at that time (59.11.6). Another man is killed because he is sus-
pected of watching for a chance to profit from the emperor’s illness (59.8.3).
It is especially absurd when Dio’s Caligula has someone killed because this
person was, according to Caligula, waiting for the emperor’s death (59.8.1).
A similar disproportion characterizes Domitian’s reasons for his murders. He
has people put to death who lay down flowers and ointments at the place
where Paris was said to have been killed (67.3.1). Arulenus Rusticus dies, we
are told, because he was a philosopher and because he had called Thrasea holy
(ὅτι ἐφιλοσόφει καὶ ὅτι τὸν Θρασέαν ἱερὸν ὠνόμαζε), Herennius Senecio because
he did not take up an office after his quaestorship, and because he had writ-
ten the biography of Helvidius Priscus (ὅτι τε οὐδεμίαν ἀρχὴν ἐν πολλῷ βίῳ-
μετὰ τὴν ταμιείαν ᾐτήκει καὶ ὅτι τοῦ Πρίσκου τοῦ Ἑλουιδίου τὸν βίον συνέγραψεν)
(67.13.2).
Dio’s Nero receives a special treatment regarding empty reasons for his
imperial actions and murders. His reasons mostly do not concern him in his
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 217

role as emperor but rather pertain to his personality.90 Dio’s Nero has noble
citizens killed because he suspects that they do not like him (ὑποπτεύων ἄχ-
θεσθαί οἱ καὶ ἐμίσει καὶ διέφθειρε, 61.5.6). His aunt Domitia, whom he is said to
have revered like a mother, is poisoned in a hurry because Nero wanted to have
her estates in Baiae and Ravenna (62[61].17.1–2). The dancer Paris has to die
because Nero wants to learn from him how to dance, but did not have the capa-
city to do so (ὅτι ὀρχεῖσθαι παρ’ αὐτῷ μαθεῖν ἐθελήσας οὐκ ἠδυνήθη, 62[63].18.1).
Sulpicius Camerinus and his son are killed because they do not give up their
title “Pythicus”, which they received from their ancestors. Nero interprets this as
a lack of appreciation for his victory at the Pythian games (62[63].18.2). If polit-
ical reasons for Nero’s actions are mentioned, they are presented as fake and as
revealing the actual, personal reasons. One example concerns the murders of
Thrasea and Soranus, which take place in the context of the punishments after
the Pisonian conspiracy. According to Dio, they had to die not because they
had been accused—the official and logical cause—but because of the kind of
people they were (ἀπέθανον δὲ καὶ αὐτοὶ τότε, ὅτι τοιοῦτοι ἦσαν, 62.26.1). In the
case of Thrasea’s execution one political reason is supplemented by three per-
sonal reasons (62.26.3–4). The political reason is thus marginalized because it
is mentioned first and then outdone by the other three: Thrasea is put to death
because he did not regularly attend the senate meetings, which, according to
Nero, showed that he was discontent with its decisions (62.26.3). But, what is
more, we also get the personal reasons: Thrasea did not listen to Nero’s singing
and playing the lyre; he did not sacrifice to Nero’s divine voice; and he did not
give any public exhibitions (οὔτ’ ἤκουσέ ποτε αὐτοῦ κιθαρῳδοῦντος, οὔτε ἔθυσε
τῇ ἱερᾷ αὐτοῦ φωνῇ ὥσπερ οἱ ἄλλοι, οὔτε ἐπεδείξατο οὐδέν) although he had per-
formed in a tragedy in his hometown Patavium (62.26.3–4).
(2) The second disproportion is between a form of imperial representation
and its costs, or more generally the lack of balance between money and what
money achieves.91 Once more Caesar turns out to be a proto-imperial figure
also with regard to finances. Dio comments on Caesar’s practice of collect-
ing money on every pretext (42.49.1–2). Dio’s Caesar contends that soldiers
and money depend on each other, that the two of them create, protect, and

90 But there are also Neronian reasons that are deconstructed in the way I have just described
for Dio’s Caligula: under Nero someone is slain, according to Dio, for living near the Forum
and letting out some shops, or for receiving a few friends in them, another because he pos-
sessed a picture of Cassius (62.27.1).
91 For Dio’s interest in finances cf. Edmondson 1992, 43, who attributes this interest to his
having to deal with finances during his quaestorship and his time as curator of Pergamum
and Smyrna. See also France 2016.
218 chapter 7

strengthen political regimes (42.49.4); he therefore needs to get a lot of money

(42.49.4–50.5). In the imperial narrative, Tiberius, Vespasian, and Trajan are
praised for economic frugality and modesty, whereas other emperors are cri-
ticized for their financial excesses.92 Dio’s Caligula spends money on actors,
horses, and gladiators (59.2.5–6). He murders people because they are rich
(59.21.4). The praetor Junius Priscus has to die because of his alleged wealth—
needlessly, as it turns out, since he possessed nothing (59.18.5).
Dio’s Nero funds his expenses by exploitation, dispossessions, and murders.
Pallas, for example, is killed because of his great fortune (ὅτι καὶ πλοῦτον πολὺν
ἐκέκτητο, 62.14.3). Junius Torquatus, a descendant of Augustus, is supposed
to have squandered his fortune in order not to appear too rich (ἐξ ἐπιτηδεύ-
σεως, ὅπως μὴ πάνυ πλουτοίη, 62.27.2). People can purchase their lives from
Tigellinus (62.28.4; 62[63].21.2). Testaments that designate Nero as heir are
forced: Nero made his victims leave him a set sum of money so that he would
not seem to have killed them because of their wealth; the testaments were
invalid if they left him less (62[63].11.2). In Dio’s text, this practice is aug-
mented twice: first, Nero wants the whole property of the dead and banishes
their children; then, he finally has the exiles killed (62[63].11.3). Dio also sug-
gests a close connection between the high costs of Nero’s project of the canal
across the Isthmus (62[63].16.1–2) and the murders of the Sulpicii Scribonii
and Corbulo (ἔς τε οὖν τἆλλα καὶ ἐς ταῦτα χρημάτων πολλῶν δεόμενος, “for this
and other purposes he needed great sums of money”, 62[63].17.1). That Vitel-
lius spends all his money on food seems almost innocent in direct comparison
(64[65].3.2).
Like Nero, Domitian sentences people to a fine or to death not because they
really committed a crime, but because he needs their money, as Dio insinu-
ates (67.12.1). The deconstruction of his behaviour is augmented when imperial
representation and events that are financed by this kind of money are depic-
ted as meaningless. We hear for example of a spectacle organized by Domitian
that was extremely expensive. But the costs do not seem to legitimize the out-
come: Dio states that there is nothing worthy of mention except that young
women contended in the footrace (67.8.1), which is not a positive comment.93
It is remarkable that Dio points out that there is nothing to mention, since
with other spectacles of the same sort he lists at least briefly the number and
kind of animals killed.94 When describing a spectacle under Titus Dio similarly

92 Cf. Gowing 2016, 128.

93 Cf. the prohibition of women in footraces mentioned in 76(75).16.1.
94 See e.g. 53.27.6; 55.10.7; 59.13.8–9; 68.15.1. Cf. also 55.33.4, reporting an elephant that over-
comes a rhinoceros and a formerly distinguished knight as fighter. On earlier games see
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 219

contends that there was nothing worthy of mention, but contradicts this con-
tention by a lengthy description of a spectacle in the amphitheatre (66.25.1–6):
Dio thus creates a gap only in order to fill it. With regard to Domitian, however,
the gap is confirmed. The fact that Dio points out that there is nothing to say
about Domitian’s spectacle is even more significant when we recall that he
pronounced beforehand that he would only report these events if there was
anything worth mentioning.95
(3) The third type of disproportion concerns imperial acts that lead to social
problems. When Dio criticizes imperial events as costly and claims that the
emperor collected his money mainly from the aristocracy, we can see that Dio’s
critique also has a social aspect. The topic of high costs is thus closely connec-
ted to the social changes that the behaviour of the emperor brings about. A feast
of Dio’s Domitian is described as giving pleasure to the people, but bringing
ruin to the powerful (ἃ δὴ τοῖς μὲν πολλοῖς ἐν ἡδονῇ, ὡς εἰκός, ἦν, τοῖς δὲ δυνα-
τοῖς ὀλέθρου αἴτια καθίστατο): since Domitian cannot fund his expenditures, he
murders many men (οὐ γὰρ ἔχων ὁπόθεν ἀναλώσει, συχνοὺς ἐφόνευε) (67.4.5). The
pleasure of the people thus implies ruin to the aristocracy, as they are the ones
who have to provide the money.
Dio’s Nero causes even more social inversion, for example by his admira-
tion of horses, which he honours as if they were human: horse breeders and
charioteers start treating praetors and consuls with great insolence (61.6.2).96
The magistrates that have to perform on stage at Nero’s Iuvenalia (probably in
a choir) wear a mask because of the shame they feel. When they are forced to
take it off, they are exhibited to the people, whom, as Dio points out, they had
previously commanded (62[61].19.3). Nero’s preference for the people over the
aristocracy is pointedly expressed in his alleged joy at Vatinius, who tells him
that he hates the emperor because he is of senatorial rank (“μισῶ σε, Καῖσαρ, ὅτι
συγκλητικὸς εἶ”, 62[63].15.1). The peak of social inversion is achieved in Dio’s por-
trait of the so-called banquet of Tigellinus (62.15.1–6), mentioned above.97 Not
only does Dio describe in detail the breakdown of social rules and hierarchy.
The position, too, of the passage within the narrative is significant: it follows the

Pompey in 39.38.1–6 and Octavian’s games for the dedication of the temple to Julius Caesar
in 51.22.4–9.
95 Cf. the description of battles involving wild animals and gladiators organized by Julius
Caesar: Dio there calls it a burden to record their number, which is why he wants to men-
tion other similar events only when it seems essential to mention some particular point
(43.22.4).
96 Cf. 61.8.2: people connected with the stage and the horse races no longer respect praetors
and consuls.
97 See p.25–26.
220 chapter 7

depiction of Nero’s first performance as a charioteer and precedes the account

of the Great Fire of Rome. Likewise, Dio’s Nero inverts social orders by favour-
ing the wrong people through the punishments after the Pisonian conspiracy:
at this time, faithless friends and house servants flourish (καὶ διὰ τοῦτ’ ἐς τὰ μά-
λιστα οἵ τε φίλοι οἱ πονηροὶ καὶ οἰκέται τινῶν ἤνθησαν, 62.24.4).
(4) A fourth important aspect of the incongruence of motivation and action
in bad emperors is that they punish people for things that they themselves
have done, or else that they themselves have provided the ground for this pun-
ishment. This performative contradiction comes out more strongly in Cassius
Dio than in Tacitus, perhaps because Dio seems to consider it an anthropolo-
gical constant and detects it in general in some people.98 He finds examples
of this contradictory behaviour in the lives of many emperors. Already Augus-
tus’ legislation and deeds do not coincide: when talking about marriage rela-
tions the senators ironically allude to his own intimacy with many women
(54.16.3), among them Terentia, the wife of Maecenas (54.19.3).99 Tiberius is
explicitly said to behave inconsistently (τοῦτό τε οὖν οὐχ ὁμολογούμενον ἔπραξε,
57.15.4). Nero sentences people who forge testaments, although he does it him-
self (61.7.6). Domitian seduces women and then sentences them for adultery
(67.12.1).100 He has Glabrio perform as gladiator at the Iuvenalia and then puts
him to death not only for atheism, but also on account of his performance as
gladiator, of which he is jealous (67.14.3).

3.2 Amplifying Actions

While in the previous examples of deconstruction we saw a disproportion-
ate combination of actions and their circumstances, we will now see that the
combination of two actions can also be used to deconstruct imperial repres-
entation. In order to make a contention more plausible Dio sometimes uses
amplification: he states two or more things about an emperor that are connec-
ted to each other. The first one is easier to believe, less scandalous, or more
common. The second one amplifies the first, for example because it is more pre-

98 See 36.40.5: πολλῷ γάρ που ῥᾷον ἄλλοις ἐπιτιμῶσί τινες ἢ ἑαυτοῖς παραινοῦσι, καὶ προχειρότατά
γε ἐφ’ οἷς τιμωρίας ἀξίους τοὺς πέλας εἶναι νομίζουσιν αὐτοὶ ποιοῦσιν, ὥστε μηδεμίαν πίστιν ἐξ
ὧν ἑτέροις ἐγκαλοῦσιν, ὅτι καὶ μισοῦσιν αὐτά, λαμβάνειν. “Some persons, of course, can more
easily censure others than admonish themselves, and when it comes to their own case
do very readily the things for which they think their neighbours deserving of punishment.
Hence they cannot, from the mere fact that they accuse others, inspire confidence in their
own hatred of the acts in question.”
99 This relationship is confirmed from the perspective of Dio’s Maecenas (55.7.5).
100 For the same reproach of inconsistency in Juvenal (2.36–42), there concerning Domitian’s
morals, see Cordes 2017, 300.
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 221

cise or provides a new detail. The reader is more inclined to accept the second
contention after it has been prepared by the first one. The figure of Octavian is
shown making use of this strategy of argument against Marc Antony. He first
tells the people things that Marc Antony actually did (50.3.5), so that they then
also believe the following rumours (δι’ οὖν ταῦτα ἀγανακτήσαντες ἐπίστευσαν ὅτι
καὶ τἆλλα τὰ θρυλούμενα ἀληθῆ εἴη, 50.4.1).101
The narrator himself applies the same strategy in order to convince the
reader. That Nero and Agrippina had intercourse is made plausible by three
points that are based on each other (62[61].11.4). Dio points out that he does
not know whether the story is true. But by presenting it as the possible res-
ult of an amplified chain of events and contentions, the incest102 seems more
plausible than in an isolated statement. It is based, first, on the contention
that Nero had a hetaera who resembled Agrippina. This is presented as trust-
worthy: everyone reported it (62[61].11.4). We learn next that Nero was very fond
of this girl because of the resemblance with his mother (ἃ δὲ δὴ πρὸς πάντων
ὡμολόγηται λέγω, ὅτι ἑταίραν τινὰ τῇ Ἀγριππίνῃ ὁμοίαν ὁ Νέρων δι’ αὐτὸ τοῦτο ἐς
τὰ μάλιστα ἠγάπησε, 62[61].11.4). When he toyed with this girl or displayed her
charms to others, he said that he was wont to have intercourse with his mother
(καὶ αὐτῇ τε ἐκείνῃ προσπαίζων καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις ἐνδεικνύμενος ἔλεγεν ὅτι καὶ τῇ μητρὶ
ὁμιλοίη, 62[61].11.4). Nero’s words, which have been carefully prepared by the
two preceding thoughts, make his wish for the incest and thus the incest itself
plausible.
We find a similar instance of amplification in the case of Dio’s Domitian
(67.12.5): he is said to have personally visited and supported people who pre-
pared accusations or statements of guilt. This is in accord with Dio’s picture
of Domitian; it is plausible in the context of the narrative. But Dio then adds
that Domitian also conversed with prisoners in person. The statement is made
more plausible by the personal contact of Domitian mentioned in the previous
statement. Finally Dio amplifies his contention when he adds that Domitian
held the chains of the prisoners in his hands, a sign of his desire for control.103

101 We find this strategy of amplification in Cleopatra’s thoughts as well, here applied to con-
vince not someone else, but herself. Contemplating how to behave towards Octavian after
Actium and pondering what she might achieve when she makes him her slave, she ampli-
fies her wishes twice (51.9.6): first she considers pardon, then rule over Egypt, and finally
rule over the Roman Empire.
102 Incest of mother and son is not automatically negative: Dio’s Caesar dreams of incest with
his mother and interprets it as a positive sign of great power or sole rulership (37.52.2;
41.24.2).
103 Cf. Murison 1999, 253.
222 chapter 7

3.3 Persuasive Order

Besides the combination of actions and their circumstances, and the amplific-
ation of actions, there is a third form of combination that supports deconstruc-
tion. This is the relationship of time and events constructed by the narrator. An
important trait of every historiographical narrative is the relationship between
the chronology of events as they (are imagined to have) happened, i.e. the
plot, and the temporal presentation in the text, i.e. the story. Annalistic his-
toriography mirrors the natural chronology of events in the text at least on a
structural level, by using the year as the narrative unit for events. The events are
to be embedded in a chronological pattern.104 For Dio, the annalistic scheme
fulfils not only a dispositional function but also a social one. In a passage in
which he comments in general on this way of presenting historical material,
he points out that giving one’s name to the years is in his own times a priv-
ilege of the consuls who are in office at the beginning of the year. He himself
makes use of the pattern in order to secure perfect clarity with regard to the
succession of events (πρὸς δὲ δὴ τὴν τῶν ἀεὶ πραττομένων δήλωσιν, 43.46.6). But
there are moments when Dio breaks with the annalistic scheme and the chro-
nological order. For this reason, Eduard Schwartz complained about the lack
of clarity in the temporal order, the tearing apart of synchronisms, and incor-
rect pragmatic connections.105 But it is more valuable to ask why Dio chooses
to depart from chronological order.106
Let us first look at a passage that does not present events in their chronolo-
gical order. When Dio describes how Domitian dealt with his wife Domitia and
his niece Julia (67.3.1–2),107 the story clearly differs from the plot, as the events
are not narrated in their chronological order. Dio’s story starts with Domitian’s
plan to have his wife sentenced to death for adultery (τὴν δὲ γυναῖκα τὴν Δομι-
τίαν ἐβουλεύσατο μὲν σφάξαι ἐπὶ μοιχείᾳ, 67.3.1). Ursus is able to prevent him from
doing so, and Domitian only divorces Domitia (παρακληθεὶς δὲ ὑπὸ τοῦ Οὔρ-
σου ἀπεπέμψατο, 67.3.1). Beforehand, however, he had the actor Paris openly
killed because of her (τὸν Πάριν τὸν ὀρχηστὴν ἐν μέσῃ τῇ ὁδῷ δι’ αὐτὴν φονεύσας,
67.3.1). This last piece of information is the most negative one. Chronologically
it would have to be put somewhere in the middle of the story. But as conclu-
sion it is more effective. The murder of Paris is given further emphasis when

104 Cf. p.206–207 on events that happen at the same time.

105 Cf. Schwartz 1899/1957, 400.
106 Cf. Rood 1998, 22 referring to his narratological analysis of Thucydides: “we should be inter-
ested in the function, not the date, of anachronies”.
107 Murison 1999, 213–215 discusses all the logical flaws in the stories about Domitian and
Julia.
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 223

Dio depicts how people revere the spot where he was killed (67.3.1), a passage
mentioned already. The order of the narrative is probably Dio’s own, since, as
was pointed out above, Xiphilinus usually does not change the order of events.
Dio goes on to establish another temporal connection: afterwards (κἀκ τού-
του, 67.3.2) Domitian lived with his niece Julia as husband and wife, and he did
not conceal it. As with the Tacitean Nero and his divorce from Octavia in favour
of Poppaea, the temporal connection here suggests a logical connection too.108
The link between the two pieces of information ‘Domitian divorced Domitia’
and ‘Domitian then lived with his niece Julia’ makes the second action appear
to be the motivation for the first. It is supplemented by the contention that this
relationship went on even after Domitian reconciled with Domitia following
an initiative of the people (67.3.2).
We also find many examples of this technique where the (chronologically
correct) order of events depicted seems to suggest a logical link. For instance,
Dio makes the murder of Burrus plausible by constructing a logical chain of
events from Nero’s divorce from Octavia to this murder (62.13.1–3): Dio’s Nero
divorces Octavia and, urged by Poppaea, has her killed (62.13.1). Dio’s Burrus is
against these actions of Nero (καίτοι τοῦ Βούρρου ἐναντιουμένου αὐτῷ); he harshly
criticizes Nero in his characteristically frank speech (62.13.2). Consequently,
Nero has him killed by poison (62.13.3).
The order of single elements of the narrative creates coherence and makes
it appear more plausible. A passage that illustrates this is the depiction of the
Great Fire of Rome under Nero (62.16.1–18.5). In the narrative, Dio presents
the fire after the banquet of Tigellinus,109 which is the peak of social inversion
and immorality, and before the war in Armenia, which takes place at the same
time and produces a strong contrast. The narrative of the fire first mentions
that Nero had for a long time wished to see, like Priam, his own city destroyed
(τὸν γοῦν Πρίαμον καὶ αὐτὸς θαυμαστῶς ἐμακάριζεν ὅτι καὶ τὴν πατρίδα ἅμα καὶ τὴν
ἀρχὴν ἀπολομένας εἶδεν, 62.16.1).110 Emphasizing this desire already suggests that
Nero was the initiator of the fire. There is no doubt about the culprit Nero in
Dio. Dio shows how Nero puts his desire, stated emphatically at the beginning
of the account, into practice and has his city burned (62.16.1–2). He adds a lively
depiction of the fire (62.16.3–7), which has to be started afresh by Nero’s soldiers
(62.17.1–3). The people compare it to the attack of the Gauls (62.17.3). The nar-
rative reaches its peak with Nero’s famous performance as lyre-player singing

108 For Nero in Tacitus see p.109–110.

109 Tacitus, by comparison, puts the marriage to Pythagoras between the banquet of Tigel-
linus and the fire. See p.125–126.
110 Cf. the similar desire of Tiberius in 58.23.4.
224 chapter 7

of the fall of Troy, “as he says”, although to the spectators it was the fall of Rome
(τὴν σκευὴν τὴν κιθαρῳδικὴν λαβὼν ᾖσεν ἅλωσιν, ὡς μὲν αὐτὸς ἔλεγεν, Ἰλίου, ὡς δὲ
ἑωρᾶτο, Ῥώμης, 62.18.1). Dio’s Nero performs his song on the roof of the palace,
from which there was the best general view (ὁ Νέρων ἔς τε τὸ ἄκρον τοῦ παλατίου,
ὅθεν μάλιστα σύνοπτα τὰ πολλὰ τῶν καιομένων ἦν, ἀνῆλθε, 62.18.1). Dio here comes
full circle: he connects Priam’s view and Nero’s view, the fall of Troy and the fall
of Rome.

3.4 Cassius Dio’s Rubrics

In many cases we can characterize Dio’s narrative order as associative rather
than chronological.111 Pieces of information are taken out of their temporal
context, fragmented, and then put into a new context by associating them with
other pieces of information. In doing so Dio sometimes recalls Suetonius in his
technique of presentation and his rubrics.112 Dio comments on his choice of
this technique explicitly when he lists the legions of Augustus. First, he men-
tions those legions that have existed from the time of Augustus until his own
days. He then adds that he will speak of the other legions that still exist in his
own time too and mention their enlistment by the emperors after Augustus. His
purpose in doing so is that someone who is interested in this sort of informa-
tion will find it more convenient if all the facts are collected in a single portion
of his book (ἵν’ ἑνὶ χωρίῳ πάντα γεγραμμένα ῥᾳδίως τὸν βουλόμενόν τι περὶ αὐτῶν
μαθεῖν διδάσκῃ, 55.24.1). According to Dio, then, a thematic rubric that breaks
up the chronological order and the annalistic scheme is helpful for the reader,
as it allows him easier access to a certain topic.
Dio offers several kinds of rubrics in his Roman History. For example,
after reporting Livia’s death he collects remarkable sayings by her (58.2.4–
5). Seneca’s contradictions, in which his teaching opposes his lifestyle, are
gathered together too (61.10.1–6). There is a rubric on Vespasian’s daily routine
(65[66].10.4–12.1) and on Hadrian’s character (ταῦτα περί γε τοῦ τρόπου, ὡς ἐν
κεφαλαίῳ εἰπεῖν, προείρηκα, 69.8.11). Similarly there is a rubric on Caracalla’s

111 Cf. Lintott 1997, 2505 (referring to the Republican books) about the technique of associ-
ation that determines the structure and order of the events reported.
112 Cf. Pelling 1997, 132: “there are many passages where we can see Dio overriding chronology
to group together material in a suggestive way”. Dio also recalls Suetonius when one and
the same element of representation can be both positive and negative, depending on the
perspective from which it is viewed (see p.329–334 on Suetonius). Vitellius’ banquets, for
example, are positive, since he communicates in a friendly way with the most influential
people (64[65].7.1); but they are also criticized because they are too expensive (64[65].3.2;
7.3). Freyburger-Galland 2009 argues that Cassius Dio read Suetonius’ work, not only but
including the Caesares.
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 225

character and on his behaviour in war (τὸ μὲν οὖν σύμπαν τοιοῦτος ἦν. ἐν δὲ
τοῖς πολέμοις ὁποῖος, ἐροῦμεν, 78[77].12.1) and on Elagabalus’ violations of inher-
ited customs (80[79].8.1). This shows that Dio thinks of and presents actions
of emperors not only in their chronological context, but also in the context of
similar actions.
This has a strong rhetorical effect, as we realize by looking at the rubric of
Domitian’s banquets (67.8.4–9.6).113 Dio does not explicitly speak of a rubric-
theme here, but the events that he mentions are clearly connected on a them-
atic level. We have discussed the single events of this rubric before, but we may
now focus on how they are combined in an effective way in the text: the first
banquet held for the people is described as an act of compensation for the
deaths that Domitian caused during a naval battle (67.8.4). This is possibly the
same banquet as the one mentioned before in 67.4.4.114 If so, it only serves a
structural function here: at this point in the narrative it provides a transition
to the notorious funeral banquet that Domitian organized for senators and
knights (67.9.1–6). The connection is made only by association (τότε … αὖθις,
67.9.1). The second banquet is depicted much more elaborately than the first
and varies its content too: here Domitian appears especially cruel. It also sup-
plements the first banquet for the people by including higher ranks, i.e. the
knights and the senators. Dio thus employs the rubric of banquets in order to
illustrate Domitian’s unsocial behaviour towards all social orders. This is highly
effective as the events that illustrate his injustice are presented together in one
passage.
What is more, rubrics on different topics may be connected with each other:
Domitian’s feasts as just discussed (67.8.4–9.6) are not only linked among
themselves, they are also connected to the preceding passage, a rubric on
Domitian’s games (67.8.1–4). At the beginning of this rubric, Domitian’s games
are criticized as too expensive and historically irrelevant (67.8.1). Worthy of
mention, however, is that several spectators died during a naval battle because
Domitian allowed no one except himself to put on warmer clothes during a
heavy rainstorm (67.8.2–3). Domitian’s games, as Dio shows, do not bring joy,
but death. The following rubric of banquets is, as we have just seen, connected
to this train of thought because Dio claims that one dinner had been organized
as recompense for the dead in the theatre (67.8.4). When this rubric ends with
the funeral banquet, it continues the motif of death and entertainment from
the rubric on games.

113 For this rubric see also Schulz 2016, 286–292.

114 See Murison 1999, 239.
226 chapter 7

4 Selection and Focus

4.1 Selecting and Presenting the Text

4.1.1 (Refusing) Catalogues
Like rubrics, catalogues are the result of a process of selection, which the nar-
rator sometimes explains. But we do not find many catalogues (in the strict
sense of the word) of bad imperial deeds in Dio apart from the collection of
Caligula’s acts (59.10.1–8) that met with the censure of everybody (ἐπαίτια δὲ δὴ
πρὸς πάντων ὁμοίως τάδε ἐξειργάσατο, 59.10.1). Part of the reason for this lack of
catalogues is Dio’s own selections. He points out that he selected his materi-
als for the sake of the reader, lest his descriptions become boring.115 Selection
is a standard principle of his composition.116 A different explanation for the
scarcity of catalogues in our text may be the reductions undertaken by the
epitomators. Xiphilinus remarks himself that he shortened Dio’s catalogue of
Caracalla’s victims: ὁ μὲν γὰρ Δίων, ἅτε γνωριμωτάτων κατ’ ἐκείνους τοὺς καιροὺς
τῶν πεφονευμένων ὄντων, καὶ ἐξ ὀνόματος αὐτῶν ποιεῖται κατάλογον· ἐμοὶ δ’ εἰπεῖν
ἐξαρκεῖ ὅτι πάντας ὁμοίως οὓς ἤθελε κατεχειρίζετο (“Dio, because the slain were
very well known in those days, gives a list of their names; but for me it suf-
fices to say that he made away with all the men he wished without distinction”,
78[77].6.1). He has obviously shortened a catalogue of Domitian’s victims too.117
A motif that we find quite often is what could be called the ‘refusal to give
a catalogue’. It can help to deconstruct the image of an emperor. Dio refuses
to present a catalogue when he claims to be overwhelmed by the sheer num-
ber of sacrifices and thanksgivings that the senate decreed for Nero during his
tour in Greece (τὰ δὲ δὴ τῆς γερουσίας ἔργον καθ’ ἕκαστον ἐπεξελθεῖν, 62[63].18.3).
He claims that no one could ever enumerate the possessions that Nero con-
fiscated or the votive offerings that he stole from the temples in Rome (οὐδὲ
ἐξαριθμήσειεν ἄν τις, 62[63].11.3). Similarly, after the revolt of Saturninus under
Domitian the narrator claims it would be impossible to find out the true num-
ber of those killed by Domitian (οὐδ’ ἂν εἴποι τις ὅσους ἀπέκτεινεν, 67.11.2). Dio
also refrains from offering a catalogue of Commodus’ victims, again because
he does not wish to produce a tedious narrative (73[72].7.3). Such a refusal can
be expressed in the form of a praeteritio, for example when Dio asks (62.27.4):
“Why should one enumerate the sums given to the Praetorians on the occa-
sion of the Pisonian conspiracy or the excessive honours voted to Nero and his

115 Cf. Hidber 2004, 194–195 with reference to 42.19.3–4 and 53.21.2.
116 Cf. Millar 1964, 32–33; Reinhold 1986, 9–11; Kuhn-Chen 2002, 18–19; 133.
117 See Murison 1999, 218–219 on 67.3.31, a passage that contains very general statements,
apparently produced by Xiphilinus.
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 227

friends?” (τί δ’ ἄν τις καταλέγοι ὅσα ἐπὶ τῇ ἐπιβουλῇ ταύτῃ ἢ τοῖς δορυφόροις ἐδόθη
ἢ τῷ τε Νέρωνι καὶ τοῖς αὐτοῦ φίλοις ὑπέρογκα ἐψηφίσθη;). The rhetorical figure
suggests of course that Dio would be able to present an extensive catalogue. A
note on the omission of a catalogue can have the same effect as the catalogue
itself: both the catalogue and the refusal to offer one evoke a great number of
individual negative cases.

4.1.2 Catalogues and Individual Cases

Despite their scarcity, catalogues fulfil an important function in Dio’s narrative.
Individual cases that are mentioned can suggest that a whole catalogue could
be given. We can distinguish two kinds of relationships between catalogue and
individual cases in Cassius Dio that deconstruct imperial deeds.
First, a negative deed can be presented as one element that has been selec-
ted from a potential catalogue of similarly negative deeds. In this case, the
catalogue is not completely suppressed, but represented by only one of its ele-
ments. During the revolt of Vindex Dio mentions Nero’s water organ, which
he presents to the senators in the middle of a major political disturbance. Dio
presents it as one of Nero’s many jokes, the rest of which he will omit (συχνὰ δὲ
δὴ καὶ ἤθυρεν, ὧν ἐγὼ τὰ μὲν ἄλλα παραλείψω, ἓν δὲ εἴπω, 63.26.4). Arulenus Rusti-
cus and Herennius Senecio are presented as two examples of a potential cata-
logue of people whom Domitian put to death because they were philosophers
(67.13.3).118 When Dio claims that Domitian had “not a few” men (οὐκ ὀλίγους)
put to death whose horoscope let them hope to attain power (67.15.6), he hints
at a potential catalogue which is not given. In this case, such a catalogue may
not have existed: Dio could be generalizing from Domitian’s treatment of Met-
tius Pompusianus (67.12.2–3).119
The selection of only one or a few examples from a (suppressed) catalogue
can be accompanied by a clear expression by the narrator that he is breaking off
his list.120 The announcement that a number of instances will be omitted may
be made at the beginning or at the end of the list. Dio justifies his breaking off a
list by stating that he only wants to recount what he considers especially mem-
orable or useful for his historiography: this is what he does when mentioning
the victims of Caligula (τῶν δὲ ἄλλων τοὺς μὲν πολλοὺς οὐδὲν δέομαι ὀνομαστὶ κατα-
λέγειν, “as for the others who perished, there is no need of my naming most of
them”, 59.22.5). Dio often makes use of this technique in his portrayal of Nero’s

118 This is a gross exaggeration. There were probably seven people condemned, three of them
to death: the two just mentioned and Helvidius Priscus. See Murison 1999, 256.
119 This is suggested by Murison 1999, 266.
120 Cf. Hose’s concept of ‘Abbruchsformel’ (see Hose 2011, 116).
228 chapter 7

reign. He even starts it, if the epitomator is following the beginning of the ori-
ginal text, with a clear breaking off of a list. After recounting Claudius’ death
and the destruction of his testament by Nero, and the murder of Britannicus
and his sisters, Dio asks why one should lament the misfortunes of the other
victims (61.1.2). In the narrative about the Pisonian conspiracy Seneca is singled
out as an example. Dio remarks that it would be a laborious task to talk of all the
others who died then (62.25.1). Corbulo and the Sulpicii Scribonii too are poin-
ted out as Nero’s victims and feature at the beginning of a number of examples
that Dio declines to mention (ὧν ἐγὼ τοὺς μὲν ἄλλους ἐάσω, “of most of these I
shall omit any account”, 62[63].17.2).
A second kind of relationship between catalogue and individual cases is
that a good deed of an emperor who is otherwise known for his bad deeds
can be underlined strikingly. By this focus on one good deed the reader is
led to think simultaneously of a whole catalogue of bad deeds, which does
not have to be made explicit. Dio’s praise of Commodus, that he occasionally
performed an act of public service, is only a praise at first sight (73[72].7.4):
the scarcity of the praiseworthy action immediately reminds us of all the bad
deeds. This technique—individual cases are singled out as positive in order
to make the reader think of many negative ones—is not always as explicit as
in this example, in which the praiseworthiness is directly stated. The tech-
nique is applied implicitly when Dio underlines Otho’s special position. He
reports that Otho could even say to Nero, “As truly as you may expect to see
me Caesar” (62[61].11.2) and that Nero answered “I will not even see you con-
sul” (62[61].11.2). This individual case, however, only makes clear that everyone
else could not use free and humorous speech with the emperor: Dio’s Otho is
legitimated by his bad nature, which brought him close to Nero.121

4.1.3 Fictus Interlocutor

In other passages, the presentation of the text is motivated by a question from
a fictus interlocutor, a form of textual selection very different from the ones
discussed so far. In such cases, Dio seems to be answering a question that a
reader might ask.122 The question itself, however, is not made explicit. So after
his report about a man without arms, who could use his feet just like hands,

121 The stressing of the positive exception is not confined to single cases. A number of positive
cases can still evoke the opposite negative deeds. When Dio remarks of Septimius Severus
that he had many senators put to death, among them those who had been accused in
due form, who were able to defend themselves, and were convicted (77[76].7.3), Dio still
suggests that the opposite method was the regular procedure.
122 Cf. Lintott 1997, 2508 on Dio’s thoughts about what the reader may ask next.
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 229

Dio seems to be reacting to the question how this is possible and adds that he
does not know how this man did it and that he is only stating what is recorded
(54.9.9). Dio also uses this technique with regard to imperial representation.
He then answers questions asked by a voice from outside the narrative either
directly or indirectly, in order to deconstruct alternative views. For example,
Dio states that Domitian drove people to suicide (67.3.42). Then he seems to
react to a fictus interlocutor who challenges Dio’s version and asks if these sui-
cides might not have been real suicides. In the following passage, this question
is answered: Dio points out that people were supposed to think that the people
had died voluntarily and not by force (67.3.42). Similarly, Dio states, as we just
saw, that the exact number of people killed by Domitian after the revolt of Sat-
urninus must remain unclear (67.11.2–3). From what follows we can imagine a
fictus interlocutor who critically asks why the relevant sources have not been
consulted.123 Dio answers that for these deaths Domitian blamed himself so
severely that he chose to prevent any remembrance of those who were put
to death and that he prohibited the entering of their names into the records
(67.11.3).

4.2 Focus on the Imperial Role

4.2.1 Role and Theatre as Metaphors
Theatre, games, and spectacles were public rituals of interaction between the
emperor and the people.124 Theatre was part of the political world: theatrical
performances could be closely connected with the real, political world. In the
institution of the Roman theatre, the spheres of fiction and reality were not
clearly separated, but could influence each other: words of an actor could be
interpreted as his own words and not as those of his character; what was said in
the theatre could be understood as a comment on contemporary events.125 In
this setting the emperor’s behaviour was scrutinized, since it also revealed the
quality of his relationship with the people.126 Dio makes use of this to evaluate

123 There are indeed no sources about the involvement of senators in the conspiracy. Perhaps
there were no senatorial victims at all. The conspiracy seems to have been confined to the
military, cf. Murison 1999, 247.
124 Champlin 2003, 64 stresses the ambiguous role of the audience, who “were not mere spec-
tators, but actors as well, playing themselves”.
125 See Cic. Att. 39.3 (on the actor Diphilus mocking Pompey the Great) with Edwards 1994,
85; Cic. Att. 14.2.1; 14.3.2 (on allusions by actors to the murder of Julius Caesar shortly after
it happened) with Woodman 1993, 107–108; Champlin 2003, 95–96.
126 See 59.13.3–4 for a passage in which the theatre figures as the place where the bad relations
between the emperor, here Caligula, and his people become apparent.
230 chapter 7

imperial behaviour.127 Based on (the emperor’s behaviour in) the real theatre,
one finds in Dio a widespread metaphor of the world as the emperor’s theatre,
the emperor playing a role in it, and his subjects as spectators. In Dio, the
metaphor is addressed by Maecenas in his programmatic speech to Octavian
(καθάπερ γὰρ ἐν ἑνί τινι τῆς ὅλης οἰκουμένης θεάτρῳ ζήσῃ, “for you will live as it
were in a theatre in which the spectators are the whole world”, 52.34.2). That the
emperor plays the role of princeps is hence not negative or regarded as hypo-
crisy. But it is criticized if the emperor does not fulfil his role, either by playing
it wrongly or by not playing it at all. These are the reproaches made of Nero and
Domitian in Dio. In deconstructing their imperial representation Dio does not
deal with all possible topics equally, but rather focuses on certain areas which
are particularly suitable for his criticism that Nero and Domitian did not live
up to their role as princeps: as in Tacitus, the focus is on Nero’s representation
as artist and on Domitian’s representation as military autocrat.128

4.2.2 Nero as Performer

The historical Nero’s representation as artist and performer lends itself very
well to deconstruction through references to role playing, as we have already
seen in Tacitus.129 We will now focus on Dio’s literary techniques that decon-
struct this role.130 Dio presents Nero as an emperor who makes his political
role and his artistic role overlap. We can distinguish two different contexts, in
which Dio’s rhetorical strategies differ. In the first, Nero is shown as a performer
in the original context of such performances, as an artist in artistic contexts:
for example as actor in the theatre or as charioteer in the circus. In the second
context, Nero is depicted as a performer in the political and social world of the
emperor, that is, in situations in which he ought to behave as an emperor.
(1) Let us first look at Nero as an artist in artistic settings. Here, Nero is
not only criticized as an emperor, who should not behave in this way,131 but
also as an artist, whose qualities are questioned.132 These deconstructions are
directed against the appreciation of Nero’s performance arts, which was wide-

127 For games in Cassius Dio cf. the helpful collection of Newbold 1975.
128 Cf. p.74–76; 61–63.
129 For the representation of the historical Nero as artist, the problems it involved, and its
social background see p.73–74.
130 On Nero as performer in Cassius Dio cf. Gowing 1997, 2568–2580.
131 See also Dio Chrys. Or. 3.133–134: Nero’s singing and performing on stage is at odds with
the role and duties of an emperor.
132 The critique of Nero’s artistry as of bad quality is different from positions that characterize
his artistic achievements as positive but regard it as disgraceful that the emperor should
strive for perfection in artistic accomplishments, as e.g. Ps.-Lucian Nero 6.
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 231

spread even among the aristocracy.133 We have already seen Boudicca’s negative
verdict on Nero as a bad lyre-player (κιθαρῳδῷ, καὶ τούτῳ κακῷ, 62.6.5). As a
charioteer he is depicted as falling off the chariot during a race in Olympia
(62[63].14.1). Nero’s activities as epic poet (παρεσκευάζετο δὲ ὡς καὶ τὰς τῶν
Ῥωμαίων πράξεις ἁπάσας συγγράψων ἐν ἔπεσιν, “he was now making prepara-
tions to write an epic narrating all the achievements of the Romans”, 62.29.2)
are discussed under the rubric of ridiculous things (ὁ δὲ Νέρων ἄλλα τε γελοῖα
ἔπραττε, 62.29.1). Dio’s reader is to understand that Nero—completely aside
from the issue of his being emperor—failed as artist. There are passages set
in artistic contexts that additionally show how the role of artist and that of
emperor overlap: in such passages Nero is portrayed as an emperor who makes
use of his power to influence art and performances to his own advantage. Thus,
Lucan is forbidden from writing poetry because he receives high praise for his
work (62.29.4). Other people are forced to perform against their will,134 such
as the magistrates performing on stage during the Iuvenalia (62[61].19.3). As
mentioned above, Dio’s Nero has them take off their masks in the theatre so
that everyone can recognize them. He is clearly contrasted with emperors who
restrict or forbid the participation of the aristocracy at the games.135
These passages illustrate the fact that Nero remains emperor also, or in par-
ticular, when he is active as an artist. The confusion of his two roles is even
further underlined when Nero gives his personal facial traits to the masks that
he wears on stage (62[63].9.5).136 Another anecdote illustrates that people did
not distinguish between Nero’s two roles: a soldier is said to have run on to the
stage to free the emperor from the chains in which he was held (62[63].10.2).137

133 Cf. Champlin 2003, 66; Flower 2006, 209–212.

134 This is not convincing from a historical perspective. The younger members of the aristo-
cracy were indeed at least in some cases interested in performing actively as a gladiator
etc. See p.74–75.
135 There are numerous examples. Already Caesar did not permit a senator to participate in
a naumachia, even though he wanted to; only knights were allowed (43.23.4–5). Augus-
tus forbids sons of senators and grandsons of knights from performing on stage (54.2.5).
Dio deems it worthy of mention that knights and noble women perform on stage during
a festival of the praetor Quintus Crispus (55.10.11). Claudius has knights perform on stage
but only in order to expose and reprove their previous behaviour under Caligula (60.7.1).
136 In a different sense, panegyrical literature praises Nero for not wearing masks, see Sen.
Clem. 1.1.6 (difficile hoc fuisset, si non naturalis tibi ista bonitas esset, sed ad tempus sumpta;
nemo enim potest personam diu ferre): because of his naturally good character he does not
have to put on a mask and play a role.
137 For both passages and the two parallel passages in Suetonius, where they are not split up
as in Dio, see Slater 1996. Slater reads the contention in Dio that the women’s masks were
all fashioned after the features of the dead Sabina Poppaea (62[63].9.5) as another Ner-
232 chapter 7

Indeed, the soldier is not the only one to confuse the levels of actor and
emperor; in the play, the actor Nero has been put in golden chains because iron
shackles are not considered proper for the emperor Nero (πλὴν καθ’ ὅσον χρυ-
σαῖς ἁλύσεσιν ἐδεσμεύετο· καὶ γὰρ οὐκ ἔπρεπεν, ὡς ἔοικεν, αὐτοκράτορι Ῥωμαίων
σιδηραῖς δεῖσθαι, 62[63].9.6).138 The confusion of the role of artist and the role
of emperor is thus used as a method of deconstruction. It has been argued
that this confusion was also the intention of the historical Nero. This thesis,
prominently advanced by Edward Champlin, may help to explain Dio’s tech-
nique of deconstruction: Champlin argues that the historical Nero made use
of the theatre as a medium of imperial representation in order to present his
own life and to legitimate his imperial actions through the plays he was acting
in.139 According to Champlin, Nero himself did not want people to distinguish
between him as emperor and his personae on stage, which he carefully chose
himself: when Nero played the role of Orestes, the murderer of his mother, he
was actually confessing his own matricide. But the important element of the
story, so Champlin, was that the matricide of Orestes was a justified murder.140
The same principle applies to Nero’s part as Alcmaeon.141 And even in Oedi-
pus the death of the mother is necessary (although Oedipus does not kill his
mother).142 Champlin contends that Nero also confessed the murder of Pop-
paea by playing the role of Hercules Furens. But, again, he wanted to be regarded
as innocent, like Hercules.143
To understand Dio’s depiction of Nero’s roles we do not need to assume that
this interpretation was really the historical Nero’s intention. But Champlin has
certainly made a strong case for an interpretation of Nero’s theatre perform-
ances that may well have existed already in antiquity. Dio’s text opposes this
kind of interpretation, since it completely neglects potential strategies of legit-

onian transgression and mockery of tradition: with Poppaea’s mask Nero is said to have
brought a funerary practice into the theatrical world (see Slater 1996, 39).
138 For the same argument in reality, rather than on stage see e.g. 49.39.6: Dio’s Marc Antony
has the king of the Armenians put into silver chains because iron chains are unseemly for
a king.
139 Champlin 2003, 84–111 analyses Nero’s roles and concludes that he wanted to use the per-
formances in the theatre to style himself as another Periander. See also Bartsch 1994, 39:
“Nero’s stage roles revealed to the emperor’s public an uncanny similarity between what
the emperor was doing onstage and what he had done off it”. Chaniotis 1997, 224–226
discusses, more generally, the “interdependence between the theatrical setting and the
theatrical character of public life” (Chaniotis 1997, 225).
140 Cf. Champlin 2003, 97.
141 Cf. Champlin 2003, 99.
142 Cf. Champlin 2003, 102.
143 Cf. Champlin 2003, 107.
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 233

imization: Dio sets emphasis on the role and the deeds such as matricide, not
on the circumstances and possible exculpations. Nero appears to be as much
the murderer of his mother as was Orestes, and as insane as Hercules. Addi-
tional information that may excuse their deeds is suppressed. Dio brings out
the similarity of Nero to the characters he plays, on the level of their deeds. It
is not their motives that are to the fore, but the acts they committed.
(2) Let us now consider the passages that depict Nero as an artist in political
settings. Theatre is depicted as having a remarkable influence on Nero’s life as
emperor. To underline this Dio uses dramatic motifs and language. Dio thereby
clearly evaluates negatively the collision of the roles of artist and emperor. He
wonders that an emperor who rules the whole world should keep on perform-
ing as lyre-player, herald, and actor (ἔχων γάρ, ὡς ἔλεγεν, οἰκουμένην, ἐκιθαρῴ-
δει τε καὶ ἐκήρυττε καὶ ἐτραγῴδει, 62[63].14.4). The clash of Nero’s two roles is
shown effectively when Dio uses the code and language of the imperial role to
describe Nero’s actions as an artist in the political context. Thus he contrasts
the emperor’s titles such as ὁ Καῖσαρ and ὁ Αὔγουστος with his actions of lyre-
playing and singing (62[61].20.1–2).144 This technique is abundantly applied to
the narrative of Nero’s journey to Greece (62[63].8.1–18.1): Nero’s Augustiani
are his soldiers, the arms they carry are lyres and plectra, masks and buskins
(62[63].8.3–4), to give only two examples. This, ironically, makes the descrip-
tion of Nero’s artistic endeavours in Greece appear to be the most military
episode in the Nero narrative.145 The description of this trip focuses on the bad
artist Nero; but the language and motifs recall the role of emperor, which Nero
fails to play.146
Dio’s narrative on the conflict of Nero’s roles develops: as the story goes on,
Nero is depicted less often as an emperor who plays the role of artist, and more
and more as an artist who has to play the role of emperor. The peak of this devel-
opment is Dio’s version of Nero’s last days, a passage that Xiphilinus preserves
most probably (almost) in full, demonstrating Dio’s narrative skills.147 We are
shown an artist Nero who lives a parallel life opposed to the expectations
people have of him as a ruler. These expectations are present in the narrative

144 For the discrepancy between the content depicted and the language describing it cf.
Schulz 2014, 410. For Dio mirroring a chaotic situation with his syntax cf. Gleason 2011,
73.
145 On Nero’s insignificance in the narrative on military endeavours cf. p.243–244.
146 A political action, the declaration of Achaea’s freedom (from taxes), is deconstructed by
presenting Nero as a devastator of Greece who kills its people (62[63].11.1).
147 Cf. Edmondson 1992, 249, who compares the narrative skills exhibited in this passage with
those on the fall of Sejanus (58.12) and Caligula’s triumph at Baiae (59.17) in Dio, two text
sections that have come down to us directly.
234 chapter 7

through statements about what Nero does not do: the reader is presented with
what an emperor ought to undertake, as a foil to which Nero’s actual behaviour
can be contrasted. When Nero learns of Vindex’ revolt, he is not impressed. He
does not hurry to Rome to take charge of matters, but practises with an athlete
instead, and writes a letter of excuse to the senate: he explains his absence by
his hoarseness, implying that he would like to sing to the senate even during
this crisis (λέγων βραγχᾶν, καθάπερ τι ᾆσαι καὶ τότε αὐτοῖς δεόμενος, 63.26.1). Neg-
lecting political affairs, he still indulges in his artistic activities and takes care
of his voice (63.26.2). When he is sure that Vindex will be defeated, he seems
to react in a highly escapist way (63.26.3). Dio’s Nero summons senators and
knights not because of the current political situation, but because he wants to
present a new water organ to them (63.26.4–5). Signs foreshadowing his doom
are neglected by him (63.26.5). Only when he hears that Galba has been pro-
claimed emperor and that Rufus has deserted him does he get frightened and
take action (63.27.1). After realizing that he has been left alone, he plans to
murder the senators, burn the city, and move to Alexandria—to live there, as
we heard already, as a private citizen and lyre-player (63.27.2). Dio’s Nero is then
left by his guards, he flees, and hides in fear (63.27.3–28.5). Dio remarks expli-
citly that fate had designed this role for Nero so that he should no longer play
the parts of other matricides and beggars but at last his own role (τοιοῦτον γὰρ
δρᾶμα τότε τὸ δαιμόνιον αὐτῷ παρεσκεύασεν, ἵνα μηκέτι τοὺς ἄλλους μητροφόνους
καὶ ἀλήτας ἀλλ’ ἤδη καὶ ἑαυτὸν ὑποκρίνηται, 63.28.4). Dio’s Nero attempts to com-
mit suicide but fails in this final action which would be worthy of an emperor.
Epaphroditus has to help him (63.29.2). His last words relate to his artistry: “O
Zeus, what an artist dies in me!” (“ὦ Ζεῦ, οἷος τεχνίτης παραπόλλυμαι”, 63.29.2).
Dio has his Nero finally become what he had always wanted to be all along. The
metamorphosis from emperor to artist is accomplished.148

4.2.3 Domitian as Military Autocrat

Dio’s Nero almost declines to take up the imperial role and, as the narrative pro-
ceeds, increasingly enjoys his favourite role, that of artist. The deconstruction
of the imperial role works differently for Domitian: Dio shows that Domitian
takes up the proper role, but plays it wrongly. He differs from Dio’s Nero because
he knows the part of princeps and tries to make use of it to his own advantage.
Dio’s Domitian, however, overdoes this and fails too.149 As mentioned above,

148 See also Bartsch 1994, 43–44: “After a life spent acting on the stage, the site of the perform-
ance has finally been transferred from stage to life”.
149 We saw something similar with Tacitus’ Domitian and his rejection of manly behaviour,
see p.104–105.
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 235

Dio deconstructs Domitian’s representation mainly by focusing on his repres-

entation as a military leader. We have already seen that (Tacitus’ and) Dio’s
Domitian stages fake triumphs that are not based on real victories. As a mil-
itary leader he is characterized by his inactivity and cowardliness.150 In the
war against the Dacians, for example, during the prima expeditio Dacica, Dio’s
Domitian hangs back from the scene of the fighting, stays in a city in Moesia,
and indulges in a wanton life (ὕβριζεν ὥσπερ εἰώθει, 67.6.3). Domitian’s inactiv-
ity is made more plausible by his following depiction as indolent and cowardly,
and as corrupt and lustful towards women and boys (67.6.3). Because of his lazy
character other commanders have to lead the war for him (67.6.3). Dio’s Domi-
tian is clearly contrasted with emperors who actively participate in their own
wars.151
Dio connects Domitian’s lack of his own achievements with the success of
others. His Domitian rejects responsibility for defeats and blames his com-
manders (67.6.4), but he claims successes for himself for which he is not
responsible (67.6.4). Dio’s Domitian hates those who succeed and blames those
who do not (καὶ ἐμίσει μὲν τοὺς κατορθώσαντάς τι, ἐμέμφετο δὲ τοὺς πταίσαντας,
67.6.4). His behaviour precisely opposes the advice given by Maecenas in his
programmatic speech to Octavian: Maecenas suggests that Octavian should not
show jealousy of the accomplishment of others. This would only result in fear of
jealousy and so in a preference for defeat over victory. The ruler would then suf-
fer harm from his own jealousy (52.33.8–9).152 Dio’s Domitian is characterized
as an emperor whose behaviour as military leader runs counter to Maecenas’
advice.

150 We find the reproach of cowardliness directed against a military leader prominently in
Cicero’s attack on Marc Antony (45.39.4).
151 Octavian participates in battle despite his weak constitution (47.41.3–4). The depiction of
Trajan is based on Domitian as a negative foil. The comparison, as mentioned above, is
especially apt since Trajan also waged war against Decebalus, but in contrast to Domiti-
an, so Dio, in person instead of entrusting it to others (καὶ ὁ Τραϊανὸς δι’ ἑαυτοῦ καὶ αὖθις,
ἀλλ’ οὐ δι’ ἑτέρων στρατηγῶν, τὸν πρὸς ἐκεῖνον πόλεμον ἐποιήσατο, 68.10.3). For Trajan actively
participating in war cf. 68.14.1; 68.23.1; for Hadrian as a model of this behaviour cf. 69.9.3.
152 In addition, Dio has his Agrippa give a piece of advice to a commander under an emperor,
which the narrator explicitly supports: since people in power do not like it if anyone out-
does them in military success and since the glory of their subjects worries them, Agrippa
advises that a man who wants to come out alive should relieve his masters of undertakings
which involve great difficulty and reserve the successes for them (49.4.4). This analysis is
supported shortly later in the narrative when Marc Antony is portrayed as jealous of the
successes of his commander Ventidius (49.21.1).
236 chapter 7

4.3 Selecting the Content: Materials versus Performances

4.3.1 Building Endeavours
In the previous sections I have examined the aspects of Nero and Domitian that
provide suitable focus points for Dio’s critique. We now turn to the other side of
Dio’s selection process. The focus on some topics implies the scarcity, neglect,
or even suppression of other topics. One of the topics that Cassius Dio does
not emphasize is (imperial) building endeavours.153 One could still see several
of Nero’s and Domitian’s building works in Rome in Dio’s time. But he seems to
have ignored these projects because this topic of imperial representation was
deemed unfavourable for his argument.
The context of Dio’s own time would suggest that imperial building endeav-
ours would be very relevant at least for his depiction of contemporary history.
The building programme of the Severans was the most extensive since Augus-
tus.154 In addition to the building activities themselves, the massive marble
plan Forma Urbis shows a strong interest in recording and documenting the
city and its buildings.155 A recent study by Alain Gowing (2016) has shown,
however, that Dio does not make buildings an equally important topic in his
Roman History.156 The same is true of Dio’s use or neglect of inscriptional evid-
ence, another “monumental source”.157 In fact, he is only interested in build-
ings if they are of contemporary relevance, and if they function as symbols

153 As outlined on p.64–65, I understand building endeavours in a broad sense, referring

to several forms of material representation such as palaces, temples, theatres, but also
statues and triumphal arches, etc.
154 Cf. Gowing 2016, 118. See also Gowing 2016, 127: “The Severan building program certainly
rivaled and surpassed that of past regimes, with the possible exception of the Flavians.”
For the Severan reconstruction of Rome see Lusnia 2014.
155 Cf. Gowing 2016, 127: “This massive and incredibly detailed map was produced between
AD 203–211, covered a large wall inside the Templum Pacis in Rome and depicted practic-
ally every architectural feature in the city.” See also Lusnia 2014, 148–155.
156 Dio mentions, without going into detail: the theatre of Pompey, as positive (39.38.1);
Caesar’s Forum, as not negative (43.22.2–4); Caesar wanted to build a theatre like that
of Pompey, but could only lay the foundation for the theatre which was later completed
by Augustus as the theatre of Marcellus (43.49.2–3; 53.30.5; 54.26.1); the theatre of Statili-
us Taurus (51.23.1); building endeavours of Agrippa (53.27); the temple of Jupiter Tonans
erected by Augustus (54.4.1–4); some buildings of Augustus; the theatre of Balbus (54.25.2);
under Vespasian, the temple of Pax, and the colossus (65[66].15.1); buildings destroyed by
the fire of 80CE (66.24.2–3: Dio mentions only some of the buildings; the reader, he says,
may infer how the rest were damaged).
157 Stuart 1904, 145. Stuart studies Dio’s rare use of inscriptions (Stuart 1904, 134 detects
only four possible cases). See Stuart 1904, 126 for Dio’s neglect of the Monumentum
Ancyranum.
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 237

or manifestations of power or the misuse of power.158 Dio also uses building

endeavours to evaluate emperors and their imperial representation. The good
emperor Vespasian, for example, restores buildings and puts the name of the
original builder on them, not his own (65[66].10.1a). This contrasts sharply with
Septimius Severus’ behaviour, who restored a large number of buildings and
inscribed his own name on them, just as if he had erected them in the first
place from his own private funds (καί σφισι τὸ ἑαυτοῦ ὄνομα ὡς καὶ ἐκ καινῆς αὐτὰ
καὶ ἐξ ἰδίων χρημάτων κατεσκευακὼς ἐπέγραψε, 77[76].16.3). Dio’s Caracalla even
has his own buildings destroyed. Their only purpose was to make the senators
poorer by taking their money for the buildings (78[77].9.7).159
Before we turn to the buildings of Nero and Domitian we should consider
Dio’s general reflections on the topic of building projects, which we find, again,
in the speech of Maecenas in book 52. In his speech to Octavian, Maecenas
is aware of the difference between things that are perceivable for a long time,
and actions and events that are no longer perceivable once they are over. Dio’s
Maecenas knows that the ontological status of solid material differs from per-
formative forms of representation.160 They outlast time (at least to a certain
degree) and can be seen (and used) for a long period. For imperial repres-
entation, Maecenas prefers the second category: he advises not to put up any
statues, or golden or silver images, but to create images in the hearts of the
people, which will never perish; he suggests that one not build temples but live
according to virtue (52.35.2–6). In this way, the whole earth will be a hallowed
precinct, all cities will be temples, and all men statues (πᾶσα μὲν γῆ τεμένισμα
ἔσται, πᾶσαι δὲ πόλεις ναοί, πάντες δὲ ἄνθρωποι ἀγάλματα, 52.35.5). In a com-
ment on Septimius Severus’ statues Dio takes up this view of his Maecenas and
repeats that it is not material but virtue that preserves the memory of rulers
(ἀρετὴ γὰρ ἡ διαφυλάττουσα τὴν μνήμην τῶν κρατούντων, 74[73].14.2a). When Dio
neglects building endeavours to a certain degree, in particular those that found
approval among the people, this is in accord with his low esteem for this form
of imperial representation, as expressed in Maecenas’ statements, and is not to
be explained only by the epitomized nature of the text.

158 See Gowing 2016, 118. Unlike Tacitus and Livy, Dio does not use buildings in an allusive
way (cf. Gowing 2016, 119).
159 We can contrast Julius Caesar’s pursuit of construction as opposed to Caracalla’s aim of
destruction: Caesar rebuilds Corinth and Carthage even though the people are hostile
towards him. He sees no reason to feel ill will towards places on account of the beha-
viour of the people who live there (μηδὲν διὰ τὴν ἐκείνων ἔχθραν τοῖς χωρίοις τοῖς μηδέν σφας
ἀδικήσασι μνησικακήσας, 43.50.5).
160 On the different ontological status of different forms of imperial representation see also
p.66.
238 chapter 7

Dio discusses Nero’s and Domitian’s buildings only selectively, although both
the historical Nero and the historical Domitian made building endeavours an
important part of their imperial representation.161 When mentioned, they are
often deconstructed by associating their funding with crime and murder. We
have studied several examples in the contexts of the previous sections: the
gymnasia in Baiae and Ravenna were able to be finished so soon thanks to the
murder of Nero’s aunt (62[61].17.1–2); Seneca, distancing himself from the soci-
ety of the emperor, which does not prevent his death, bestows his entire prop-
erty on Nero to help pay for his buildings (62.25.3); Nero’s project of building a
canal across the Isthmus is closely connected with the murder of the Sulpicii
Scribonii and of Corbulo (62[63].17.1). The practical purpose that the canal was
to serve is not mentioned by Dio. By contrast, Dio praises the bridge over the
Ister, which the good emperor Trajan erected, although it was, as Dio concedes,
completely useless. But Dio claims that the bridge, which he describes at length
(68.13.1–6), revealed the magnitude of Trajan’s designs (ἡ μὲν οὖν μεγαλόνοια τοῦ
Τραϊανοῦ καὶ ἐκ τούτων δείκνυται, 68.13.5).
Especially with Domitian, who undertook so many building projects, the
scarce mention of building projects is striking. Not one building is mentioned
in a positive way. The road from Sinuessa to Puteoli is, in the epitomized text,
mentioned without any negative additions at least (67.14.1). The other buildings
that appear in the text are coded negatively. We have come across the example
of Domitian’s estate in the Alban Hills before: it is characterized as isolated,
and illustrates Domitian’s reclusiveness (67.1.2); he uses it as a retreat, in fear of
his father Vespasian (65[66].3.4). In his study there, he impales flies on a stylus
(65[66].9.4), as mentioned above. The property is mentioned again in the con-
text of Glabrio’s execution, who had performed there as a gladiator (67.14.3).
In the extant text, Dio mentions Domitian’s triumphal arches, but not until
they are torn down after Domitian’s death. They appear in the text only when
they disappear in the world. Dio states that such destructive acts, which also
include Domitian’s silver and golden statues, were motivated by the hatred
of the people (68.1.1). Domitian had clearly not followed the advice of Mae-
cenas to Octavian that a monarch should not have any golden or silver images
made of him (52.35.3). Statues are often used to evaluate the behaviour of an
emperor or an imperial figure. Dio’s Sejanus for example is said to have had so
many statues that one could not even count them (58.2.7). Nerva, by contrast,
forbids that golden or silver statues be erected for him (68.2.1). The relevance
of these statues, which Dio explicitly frames as negative, becomes apparent

161 See p.64–65.

strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 239

when we keep in mind that, for Dio, they aim to evoke the presence of the per-
son depicted.162 Dio’s statues are often treated as persons or substitutes for a
person: Caligula’s statues are guarded (59.26.3); a statue of Augustus is taken
elsewhere so that it does not have to watch the bloodshed of a public execu-
tion (60.13.3); Marcus Aurelius has a golden statue of Faustina watch in the
theatre (72[71].31.2); the maltreatment of the statues of Commodus substitutes
for the maltreatment of his real body (74[73].2.1).163 When Dio contends that
the whole world was filled with Domitian’s silver and golden statues (67.8.1), he
illustrates that the autocratic person of Domitian was everywhere. By destroy-
ing these memorial acts164 after Domitian’s death, Dio’s Roman people react to
and cancel Domitian’s wish to be ubiquitously present.165

4.3.2 Deconstructing Performances: The Ritual in Written Form

In Dio performances by emperors feature more often than material forms of
representation. They are a fruitful field of deconstruction which is applied to
both Nero and Domitian. In Domitian’s case this ties in well with the depiction
of his character as capable of simulation.166 Let me repeat that the historical
Domitian did not trigger as many points of direct criticism as Nero—with the
exception of associating himself closely with the gods. Dio therefore makes use
of the antithesis between ‘appearance’ and ‘reality’, which the ancient histor-
ians use to present hidden and concealed things behind the events that they
describe: this difference between appearance/surface and reality/substance is
applied not only to Domitian’s character but also to his performances.
The transient character of a performative ritual, as outlined above, is apt for
deconstructing Domitian’s achievements: once a performance is over, we can-
not capture it in any material form. Representation in the form of a perform-
ance in principle cannot be checked afterwards, as a building or a statue can.
As a medium of imperial representation, a triumph is thus significantly differ-

162 For the discussion of the living presence of art works in art history see e.g. Eck 2010, who
discusses the experience of how images can affect their viewers in the same way as per-
sons (from the perspective of modern theories of agency). On art and agency see also Eck
2015, 45–66.
163 Cf. 58.11.3 for the identification of image and person as regards Sejanus: τάς τε εἰκόνας
αὐτοῦ πάσας κατέβαλλον καὶ κατέκοπτον καὶ κατέσυρον ὡς καὶ αὐτὸν ἐκεῖνον αἰκιζόμενοι (“they
hurled down, beat down, and dragged down all his images, as though they were thereby
insulting the man himself”).
164 For statues as memorial acts and indicators of the relationship between senate and
emperor cf. Kemezis 2012, 390–392.
165 See p.38 for this purpose of Domitian’s historical imperial representation.
166 Cf. p.200.
240 chapter 7

ent from a coin. Dio makes use of this ontological status of performances when
describing Domitian’s triumph (probably of 89 CE): it is unmasked as a fake tri-
umph (67.7.4). Domitian merely acts as if he had truly conquered the Dacians
(καθάπερ ὡς ἀληθῶς κεκρατηκώς, 67.7.3).167 Dio contends that the Romans even
have to pay for the purported victory over Decebalus.168 When Dio calls the
Romans the slaves of Domitian, the purpose of a military victory and its cel-
ebration appears in a perverted form. A letter of Decebalus, which evidently
confirmed Domitian’s victory, is called a forgery, at least in a rumour (67.7.3).169
Domitian’s triumphal games too (of either 86 or 89 CE) are called merely alleged
celebrations of victory (ἑορτάς τινας νικητηρίους δῆθεν ἐπιτελῶν, 67.8.1). The
motif of rewards not gained legitimately is also applied to Nero and his prizes at
the games. At the Neronia, Dio’s Nero takes the crown for lyre-playing without
a contest (62[61].21.2). That Nero’s victory at the Olympic games of 67CE was
not a real victory is supported by later events: Galba reclaims the money with
which Nero had bribed the judges (62[63].14.1).
Dio is aware of the vanity of events that have a performative character. We
can observe this also when we analyse his comments on written statements—
i.e. words materialized instead of just uttered orally. Written documents appear
as a danger when they provide proof against someone, and Dio evaluates how
people deal with this kind of proof.170 In Dio, writing things down is depicted
as a form of preserving things said and done, which transforms a performative
act into a written and material status. We can illustrate this by the behaviour of
the senators at the beginning of Nero’s reign. The senators under Nero have a
delusional sense of the importance of written things. Nero’s first speech in the
senate, composed by Seneca, is not given in detail by Dio, but we are told that

167 See 59.16.11 for a similar reproach against Caligula, who was granted an ovation as if he
had defeated some enemies (τά τε ἐπινίκια τὰ σμικρότερα ὡς καὶ πολεμίους τινὰς νενικηκότι
πέμψαι αὐτῷ ἔδωκαν). See Lange 2016, 106–107 for Caligula’s mock triumphs in Dio, which
express Caligula’s contempt for the senate.
168 The historical peace was most probably achieved by compromise. Cf. Strobel 1989, 93.
169 Strobel 1989, 91 assumes with good reasons that this rumour was part of Trajan’s propa-
ganda, which was intended to make Trajan’s own Dacian war of 102CE excel Domitian’s
one. When we compare the parallel events under Trajan in Dio, no similar accusations are
made. Decebalus there sends legates to the senate who confirm the peace treaty (68.9.7).
170 Dio’s Caesar destroys documents that could be negative for his enemies (41.63.5–6; 43.13.2),
which he himself mentions in a speech (43.17.4). See also 44.47.5; 52.42.8. Caligula takes
copies of incriminating documents and burns them, not the originals (59.4.3; 59.10.8;
59.16.3); Claudius later burns the originals (60.4.5). Otho burns letters expressing hostility
to Vitellius shortly before his death (63[64].15.11; 1a). Lucius Maximus is praised explicitly
for destroying Antonius Saturninus’ papers, which could have become dangerous for other
people (67.11.1–2).
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 241

the senators liked it very much (61.3.1). When the speech as a performative act
is over, the senators try to preserve it. They impose two memorial measures: the
speech is to be inscribed on a silver tablet, and it is to be read at the beginning of
each consulship. Relying on these measures of materialization and repetition
on which they have decided themselves, the consuls expect a good principate,
as though they had a written guarantee for it (ὡς καὶ κατὰ συγγραφήν τινα, 61.3.1).
But, as we know from the following depiction of the principate, the written,
materialized status of the text is no guarantee.

4.4 Omissions
Elements that are not selected to be part of the text are omitted from it. Such
omissions can be considered another device of deconstruction. We may distin-
guish three different forms:
(1) Dio omits pieces of historical information from his Roman History. We
have to be cautious, of course, in arguing ex negativo in the epitomized passages
of the text.171 However, omissions are also a general technique of historiograph-
ers,172 and there are passages in Dio’s original text in which we can see that
he does himself suppress pieces of information that do not tie in well with
the account he wants to create. Christopher Pelling has shown that Dio, in a
text passage that has come down to us in the original version, makes use of
this technique when he significantly does not mention the alliance of Luca in
56 BCE because it does not suit the narrative that he has developed.173 So it is
at least possible that the potentially positive pieces of imperial representation
that do not feature in the text have been left out by Dio on purpose. This could
be the case for Domitian’s successful war against the Chatti in 89 CE, which is
not discussed in the extant text.
(2) A piece of information is sometimes not left out completely, but import-
ant details are omitted which could present the piece of information in a com-

171 Xiphilinus can completely omit even important events. For example, he does not mention
Claudius’ invasion of Britain in 43–44 CE at all, see Edmondson 1992, 29.
172 Cf. Champlin 2003, 52 on Tacitus, Suetonius, and Cassius Dio suppressing information that
would have been too positive for Nero.
173 See Pelling 2009a, 517: “By that point he has so set up his narrative that his usual explor-
ation of the principals’ motives would leave him (and were he to have included Luca, his
reader) baffled. (…) Dio infers that whatever happened in 56–5BCE must have been an alli-
ance of Pompey and Crassus against Caesar—something that left no room for the usual
way of treating Luca as a triple alliance. He must have been familiar with that tradition,
but must also have thought it mistaken: and motives, imaginative focalisations, are why
he would be so suspicious. The focalisation may help us to understand, not merely what
the narrative does say, but what it does not.”
242 chapter 7

pletely different context and light. In these cases the lack of specification or
precision makes Dio’s statements more persuasive. We have already seen an
example of this technique in the account of Nero’s marriage to Sporus in Greece
(62[63].13.1–2): here Dio talks only of Nero’s unconventional marriages, those
with Sporus and Pythagoras, but omits the normatively acceptable one with
Messalina. In fact, Pythagoras is always mentioned together with Sporus in
Cassius Dio (see also 62.28.2–3; 63.22.4). The omission of Messalina in this con-
text of marriages is typical of Dio. Suetonius also mentions Pythagoras, whom
he calls Doryphorus, together with Sporus in his rubric on Nero’s libido (Suet.
Ner. 29). However, the fact that Messalina is not mentioned at that point is
explained by the rubric system: Nero’s legal marriages are dealt with later in
the rubric on crudelitas (Suet. Ner. 35.1). In Tacitus, as we have seen, Pythagoras
is not left out of the narrative prior to the point at which the marriage with
Sporus would have been depicted, a passage in the Annals that has not come
down to us. The figure of Pythagoras is still imporant without Sporus, as a nar-
ratological device: he presents an important link between Nero’s transgressions
through the banquet of Tigellinus, the marriage itself, and before the Great Fire
(Tac. Ann. 15.37.4).174 Only Dio combines Pythagoras and Sporus in a way that
entails the effective omission of Nero’s marriage with Messalina.
Likewise, when discussing the funding of certain forms of imperial repres-
entation, Dio sometimes leaves out certain sources of money, so that the costs
appear higher for the funding group that he focuses on. Tiridates’ journey to
Rome through several cities cost the public treasury 800,000 sesterces a day, we
learn (62[63].2.2). No other funding source than the public treasury is given in
the extant text. We know from epigraphic material, however, that the provinces
shared a major part in these costs.175 Without this piece of information we are
under the impression that the Roman treasury alone paid for everything. A sim-
ilar omission of funding sources may occur in relation to the temple of the
deified Poppaea. We are told that a great part of the money had been stolen
from women (ἐκ γὰρ τῶν χρημάτων ἃ πολλὰ καὶ παρὰ τῶν γυναικῶν ἐσεσύλητο
ἐξειργάσθη, 63.26.4). It was common practice, however, for people to give money
voluntarily for such temples, and probably also for Poppaea’s.176 Dio conceals
the context of this practice, which makes the allegedly stolen money stand out.
As for Domitian, Dio is extremely selective in his report about his censorship,
for which the historical Domitian was highly praised in contemporary panegyr-

174 See p.125–126.

175 See Edmondson 1992, 230–231.
176 See Edmondson 1992, 247.
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 243

ical literature.177 We only learn, as mentioned above, that Dio considers his
censorship for life to be ἄνοια (67.4.3; cf. 53.18.5). Further information is omit-
ted. An important detail about Arulenus Rusticus, one of Domitian’s victims,
is also left out. Arulenus Rusticus is said to have been killed because he was a
philosopher and had called Thrasea holy (τὸν γὰρ δὴ Ῥούστικον τὸν Ἀρουλῆνον
ἀπέκτεινεν ὅτι ἐφιλοσόφει καὶ ὅτι τὸν Θρασέαν ἱερὸν ὠνόμαζε, 67.13.2). We do not
hear any information that could cast doubt on this reason. But we know that
Arulenus Rusticus had accepted a suffect consulship for 92CE from Domitian,
which does not suggest that he had a tense relationship with the emperor.178 In
addition to these cases, which code an imperial action as negative, the lack of
specification and details can be used to support the praise of a good emperor:
when Dio depicts Titus positively in contrast with Domitian, he mentions that
Titus had killed no senator (67.2.4). But the detail that this is only true for Titus’
time as emperor is omitted here,179 because it would spoil the effect of the com-
parison.180
(3) A third form of omission takes place within the text. This type concerns
not so much the relationship with real events but rather a text-internal silence:
Dio’s Nero can be absent from the text, or within the text.181 Sometimes Nero
disappears from the text completely. During the events in Britain (62.1.1–12.6)
he does not figure as an emperor who is in touch with his commander. In fact,
in the whole passage that has come down to us he is only mentioned by Boud-
icca in her speech, who paints the unmanly picture of him analysed above.
The Roman commander Paulinus does not talk about the emperor Nero in his
speeches at all (62.9.1.–11.5). Of course, the historical Nero was not present in
Britain. But the fact that he is left out of the narrative too is a decision by Dio.182

177 See p.89–90.

178 Cf. Murison 1999, 255. Such passages in which it is highly probable that Dio (and not only
Xiphilinus) is suppressing information that would not fit his version may allow us to spec-
ulate about other passages. The murder of the Sulpicii Scribonii and Corbulo (62[63].17.1–
2), for example, which, as discussed above, is connected to Nero’s canal project in Corinth
and which is made persuasive by the focalization of Nero and Corbulo, is stylized in a very
literary way. If there was a conspiracy that involved the three victims (cf., again, Edmond-
son 1992, 241 on the conspiracy of Annius Vinicianus), it would indeed be effective to omit
it.
179 It is mentioned in 66.19.1: οὐ μὴν ἀλλ’ ὁ Τίτος οὐδένα τῶν βουλευτῶν ἐν τῇ αὑτοῦ ἡγεμονίᾳ
ἀπέκτεινεν (“Be that as it may, Titus during his reign put no senator to death”).
180 The death of Eprius Marcellus and Caecina Alienus had in fact earned Titus a lot of hatred.
Cf. Murison 1999, 174–175; 181 and 66.16.3–4.
181 We have observed this device in Tacitus’ depiction of Nero’s military endeavours too. See
p.57–61.
182 By comparing Nero’s absence to that of Dio’s Claudius, we can see that this omission has a
244 chapter 7

Another strategy is used to underline Nero’s absence from Armenia, where

Corbulo led the war. Differently from the account on Britain, Nero features rel-
atively often in this passage dealing with the events of 64 CE and the following
years. But his presence within the text is used to point out his absence from
the events. The figure of Nero gives an implicit legitimization for his absence
at the beginning of this part of this narrative: he knows that Corbulo is the
ideal commander (62.19.2–4). The instances in which Nero is mentioned point
either to his absence from the war or to his power. His absence is highlighted
when Nero is depicted as receiving embassies (62.20.4; 62.22.3). His remaining
absent is made explicit: since he fell while performing a sacrifice he remained
at home (62.22.4). We could think of a logical explanation for Nero’s behaviour:
the stumbling could be interpreted as a bad omen for the journey. Dio, however,
presents Nero’s decision as implausible and focuses on the result that he stayed
at home. Suetonius and Tacitus also refer to Nero refraining from a journey and
staying at home, both in the context of his plans to travel to Alexandria and
his visit to a temple of Vesta, but with different effects. In Tacitus, as we have
seen, Nero is shown trembling in the temple of Vesta because of his fear, which
is explained by his consciousness of his crimes (Tac. Ann. 15.36.2).183 Suetonius
includes this instance in the part of his Life that deals with Nero’s positive deeds
and his journeys (Suet. Ner. 19.1).184 He gives us a less psychological and more
rational version of the story: Suetonius’ Nero interprets it as a threatening omen
that the fringe of his garment was caught when he tried to stand up in the shrine
of Vesta.185 Therefore he stayed at home. Dio, presenting a similar story, is not
interested in a rational or psychological explanation; he simply puts emphasis
on Nero’s absence from the place where he ought to be.
Nero’s images displayed at the conference of Rhandea, although they were
exhibited in order to evoke his presence, actually highlight his physical absence
(62.23.3). Other mentions of his name underline his power, which appears to
be independent of his physical presence. Nero figures as the one who has the
power to assign Armenia to whomever he pleases (62.20.2; 62.21.2; 62.22.3). He,
not Corbulo, finally receives the honours; he is acclaimed as imperator and
holds a triumph that opposes tradition (62.23.4).186

certain effect on the reader. During the campaign Claudius communicates with Plautius
as part of a team. When the situation becomes too difficult he goes to the site of the war
himself (60.21.1–2). Plautius receives Claudius’ praise and even an ovatio (61[60].30.2).
183 See p.87; 140.
184 See. p.273–277; 278–280; 309–310 for Suetonius’ rubrics and the division of the Life of Nero.
185 See Kierdorf 1992, 184 for parallel passages in other authors about similar omens.
186 For Nero’s triumphs see also p.195–196. We can, again, compare Claudius for contrast:
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 245

5 Spoiling the Atmosphere

5.1 Negative Emotions: Dilemmas and Fear

To deconstruct the atmosphere under an emperor, the emotions people feel
and the way they cope with them are depicted negatively. By showing what the
emperor and his subjects feel, the text creates an atmosphere full of emotional
paradoxes and fear. We will first look at the uneasiness of emotions, then focus
on the emotion of fear.
The atmosphere under a bad emperor means that one cannot show one’s
emotions openly, even in situations in which this is culturally approved, such
as after someone’s death. Displaying such emotions was forbidden under Dio’s
Commodus (74[73].5.3). Under Caracalla, Julia Domna is not allowed to show
her grief even in private after the murder of her son Geta (78[77].2.6). Death
and murder are often presented as resulting in joy rather than grief. Even when
this emotion concerns a character in the narrative who is bad, the contrast
between repressed grief and open joy over death and murder will make the
reader feel uneasy. For example, after the murder of Agrippina the people
rejoice because they think that this is the beginning of Nero’s end (62[61].15.1).
The senators only simulate their joy at Agrippina’s death, with the single excep-
tion of Thrasea Paetus (62[61].15.1–4). The hope that Nero may have died during
a storm on his way back from Greece makes many people rejoice (62[63].19.2),
but only briefly since for some the fact that they had prayed and hoped that
Nero might perish provided Nero with a motive to kill them. Joy and death
finally coincide in the narrative when the dead are regarded as fortunate
(62[61].19.4).
The relationship between the cause of an emotion (e.g. death) and the
emotion itself (e.g. grief, joy) is often presented as disturbed. One of the reas-
ons for this is the emotional dilemma produced by communication with bad
emperors. After Drusilla’s death, for example, no emotional reaction is right
for Dio’s Caligula. He censures grief as well as joy (59.11.5). Dio shows that it
does not even solve the dilemma if one takes Domitian’s feelings as a model
and tries to imitate them: people were never sure whether they should share
his grief or his joy; in the former case they could offend his real feelings, in
the latter case they might lay bare Domitian’s insincerity (καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι οὔθ’ ὅπως
συνάχθοιντο οὔθ’ ὅπως συνήδοιντο ἀσφαλῶς εἶχον, τὸ μὲν ὅτι τὴν γνώμην αὐτοῦ
λυπεῖν, τὸ δὲ ὅτι τὴν προσποίησιν ἐλέγχειν ἔμελλον, 67.2.7). Dio enjoys describing

when he holds his triumph, Dio underlines that everything was in accordance with tra-
dition, although it was hard for Claudius given his physical condition (60.23.1).
246 chapter 7

such dilemmas and he underlines them with rhetorical devices such as paral-
lelisms and antitheses.187
The most prominent emotion in Dio’s imperial narrative is fear.188 Fear can
determine the actions of both emperors and senators (or other subjects). Nero
puts the most influential people to death because he is frightened of possible
attacks (φοβούμενος τοὺς δυνατωτάτους μὴ ἐπίθωνταί, 62[63].17.1). Dio’s Domitian
fears prisoners even in chains (καὶ ἐκείνους καὶ δεδεμένους ἐδεδίει, 67.12.5). His
wife Domitia always lived in fear of death because she had always been sub-
jected to Domitian’s hatred (ἥ τε γὰρ Δομιτία ἀεί ποτε ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ ἐμισεῖτο καὶ διὰ
τοῦτ’ ἐφοβεῖτο μὴ καὶ ἀποθάνῃ, 67.15.2). Fear also characterizes the contemporary
atmosphere. Everyone is frightened of Commodus (73[72].15.1; 20.2; 21.1), and
the cowardly emperor is terrified himself (73[72].13.6). Dio’s contemporaries
are most afraid of Plautianus (ὥστε καὶ αὐτῶν τῶν αὐτοκρατόρων μᾶλλον πάντας
καὶ φοβεῖσθαι αὐτὸν καὶ τρέμειν, 77[76].4.5). An anecdote illustrates that fear no
longer correlates with guilt. When the emperor is looking for a culprit in the
senate who is bald, all the senators without hair become frightened, including
those who are sure that they have done nothing wrong; and even Dio himself
touches his own head to check whether his hair is still there (77[76].8.2–7).
Fear is such an important driving force that Dio reflects on it on an abstract
level. He argues that fear cannot go together with rational reflection (οὐ γὰρ
ἐθέλουσιν οἱ λογισμοὶ τοῖς φόβοις συνεῖναι, 42.1.5). According to Dio, fear impedes
thoughtful actions. It also prevents people from displaying their thoughts and
feelings openly, so it provides a reason for hypocritical behaviour. We learn this
from a crucial scene which shows the reaction of the senators to Octavian’s
speech in the senate in 27BCE, in which he declares that he wants to lay down
power: those who believe him cannot show their pleasure, being restrained by
their fear (διὰ τὸ δέος), or their hope; those who do not believe him do not dare
to expose his insincerity because they are afraid (ὅτι ἐφοβοῦντο), or do not care
to do so (53.11.3). In another passage that reflects upon fear, Dio’s Livia in her
dialogue with Augustus observes that the punishment of some people makes
others experience fear and that this fear is the reason for their hostility (ἐξ ὧν
ἂν αὐτοὶ φοβηθῶσιν, ἐχθίους γίγνονται, 55.21.2).

187 Lintott 1997, 2502–2503, discussing antitheses in Dio in general, refers to the influence of
rhetorical education and dilemmas in rhetorical school exercises.
188 For fear as typical of the relationship between emperor and senators in Dio cf. Gowing
1992, 21–22. Cf. also the short remarks on fear in Kuhn-Chen 2002, 174–176.
strategies of deconstruction in cassius dio 247

5.2 Laughter and Ridicule

One way in which Dio’s characters sometimes deal with fear is laughter—in
the sense of relief of a psychological tension189—as when Dio describes Com-
modus, who had just killed an ostrich, in the senate (73[72].21.1–2).190 Com-
modus is holding the head (and probably neck) of the ostrich in his left hand
and the sword in his right hand.191 He threatens the senators that they will suf-
fer what the ostrich suffered. What is meant to be a terrifying gesture by Dio’s
Commodus, misses its effect. The senators, among them Dio himself, are about
to burst into laughter. Only Dio’s trick of taking leaves from his laurel wreath
and chewing them suppresses the laughter. Dio’s Commodus is here portrayed
as an emperor who is ridiculous even when he tries to terrify people. But, while
also being ridiculous, he is still terrifying: the senators are not allowed to show
their laughter.
Dio uses laughter to deconstruct emperors: his characters laugh much more
than those in Tacitus; they also laugh at emperors when they do not seem
to fit into the imperial role. Vitellius is laughed at twice, once by the people
and once by the senators. People laugh at him because of the discrepancy
between his former rather loose behaviour and his new serious imperial con-
duct (64[65].5.1). Senators sneer at Vitellius when he thinks he can step down
from the emperorship by offering them his sword (64[65].16.6). Julianus gives
the senators reasons to laugh because of the dilettantism of his reign and his
fortifying of the palace, where he reckons he will be safe in the event of defeat
(74[73].16.3–4).
Inappropriate behaviour by the emperor is also the reason why Nero’s audi-
ence laughs at him. During his performance at the Iuvenalia his voice was so
thin and unclear that it made people in the audience laugh and cry at the
same time (ὥστε καὶ γέλωτα ἅμα καὶ δάκρυα πᾶσι κινῆσαι, 62[61].20.2–3). As Dio’s
description of Nero’s voice is supposed to point out, the emperor is inappro-
priate in two roles at once: as an artist in the role of the princeps, and as a
bad performer in the role of a serious artist. When the people join the offi-
cial applause of the Augustiani, with the single exception of Thrasea Paetus,
they appear delighted from the outside (ὡς καὶ χαίροντες), although they actu-
ally lament what is going on (ὀδυρόμενοι) (62[61].20.4).

189 Cf. Beard 2014, 38–39 for the modern theory of laughter as relief.
190 For this scene see Plass 1988, 70; Hose 2011, 117; Beard 2014, 1–8.
191 It is striking that Dio’s Commodus, a proud lefthander who holds the sword in his left hand
during gladiatorial fights, has it in the right hand here (73[72].19.2; 22.3).
248 chapter 7

But Dio’s characters are not the only ones to laugh. Some passages clearly
have the potential to amuse the reader too.192 Among them are Dio’s satir-
ical depictions of bad emperors, such as the above-mentioned scene of Com-
modus and the ostrich’s head (73[72].21.1–2). The figure of Nero seems to be
most suitable for a satirical depiction.193 I have already examined Boudicca’s
view of him and the Romans (62.3.1–6.5), which has clear satirical elements.
It is precisely Nero’s artistic representation that Dio uses for satirical elements
in Boudicca’s speech but also when, for example, people pretend to faint and
get carried out of the theatre as if dead in order to avoid watching Nero’s per-
formances (62[63].15.3). The whole account of Nero’s artistic journey in Greece
(62[63].8.1–10.3) has satirical traits.194 However, satire involving Nero is not
merely funny and meant to amuse. Despite the entertaining effect that these
passages clearly have, Nero’s behaviour as depicted has serious consequences.
Even when ridiculous the emperor still has the power to kill great numbers
of people, including in Greece, the country that he claims to have set free
(62[63].11.1). The portrait of Nero may entertain and amuse, but it is neither
innocent nor enjoyably funny.
The reader is invited to laugh at Domitian in an episode concerning the
Dacian war. Dio downplays the Roman victory over the Dacians at Tapae in
88 CE, because it would otherwise be too positive for Domitian. He does so, for
example, by putting emphasis on a detail that is embarrassing for the Romans
and for Domitian. Dio’s Dacians deceive the Romans by the simplest tricks.
Vezinas, the second-in-command of the Dacians after Decebalus, pretends to
be dead and can thus escape (67.10.2). Decebalus saves his royal residence
by putting up tree trunks in armour: the Romans think they are soldiers and
withdraw in fear (67.10.3). Dio asserts that this really happened (ὃ καὶ ἐγένετο,
67.10.3). But these reports are not very convincing. They rather turn the Roman
victory under Domitian into a ridiculous episode. The most satirical and invect-
ive part of Dio’s Roman History is the depiction of the reign of Elagabalus, to
which we will soon turn.195

192 Cf. Edmondson 1992, 42 on Dio’s irony, wit, and humour with reference to 59.5.5; 59.17;
59.25.2–3; 59.26.9; 59.27.6.
193 Dio’s negative image of Nero is hence different from those in non-historiographical critical
discourse (esp. Octavia), in which the negative image of Nero is mainly based on showing
him as a tyrant of whom one has to be afraid, as compared to Domitian’s negative image
(in the Panegyricus), which involves both fear and ridicule (see Cordes 2017, 314).
194 For a detailed analysis of Nero’s journey to Greece in Dio see Schulz 2014, 409–413.
195 See p.252–254.
 chapter 8

Deconstruction and the Construction of Memory

1 Typologies of Bad Emperors

1.1 Nero and Domitian Recalling Julio-Claudian Emperors

In the previous chapter we saw how the techniques that Dio uses to decon-
struct, i.e. to reshape to negative effect, Nero’s and Domitian’s imperial repres-
entation are not applied exclusively to these two emperors—he uses them for
other emperors as well. And these techniques are not the only device that pro-
duces the impression of unity and continuity in Dio’s work.1 Dio also creates
unity by explaining things from a contemporary point of view and by includ-
ing both prolepses (foreshadowing) and analepses (flashbacks), which connect
different reigns.2 Additionally, Dio establishes explicit or implicit typologies of
emperors from the beginning of the principate to his own times. Similarities in
literature may, of course, be based on similarities in reality. But it is the decision
of each writer how much to underline or ignore them. The figures of Nero and
Domitian are part of the typologies that Dio creates: they both recall emperors
who ruled before them, mainly Caligula and Tiberius.3
Before we study these similarities between emperors more closely, we
should underline that topoi are not blindly applied to every bad emperor in the
same way.4 They are, rather, used differently for different figures and their use
also depends on the historical facts about the emperor in question. Caligula,
Nero, Domitian, Commodus, Caracalla, and Elagabalus have enough in com-

1 Cf. Schulz 2019a, 313–315 for questions and devices that characterize Dio’s Roman History as
a whole.
2 For example, there is a reference to Vespasian in the depiction of Caligula’s rule (59.12.3).
In the context of the triumphal honours given to Agricola by Titus, there is a reference to
Domitian, who will later have him killed (66.20.3). Pertinax is mentioned in the war under
Marcus Aurelius, in which he excels (72[71].3.2); the reader later understands better why the
enemy knows him already (74[73].6.1). For proleptic references to contemporary history in
earlier periods see: 40.14.4 (on the Parthians in Dio’s time); 51.17.3 (Egypt under Octavian and
Septimius Severus); 55.23.7 (legions in Augustan times and under Septimius Severus); 58.14.1
(Sejanus compared to Plautianus); 68.31.2 (Hatra under Trajan and Septimius Severus).
3 Cf. Pelling 1997, 117 for Dio’s “taste for common and typical traits rather than individual and
idiosyncratic”.
4 Cf., more generally, Dunkle 1971, 19: “these rhetorical commonplaces can express some truth
about tyranny. These terms are not entirely meaningless if they are employed analytically and
responsibly, not just to make narrative or fictitious speeches more colorful and sensational.”

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004407558_013

250 chapter 8

mon to be recognizable as the type of bad emperor, but they also have enough
individual traits not to get mixed up.5 Dio’s depiction of these emperors may
be compared with modern advertising, which on the one hand has to draw on
established patterns of persuasion, but on the other hand has to distinguish
itself from these patterns in order to be recognizable. Advertisements and Dio’s
images of bad emperors have to achieve the highest possible degree of both
variety and redundancy.6 The aspect of redundancy allows the reader to recog-
nize patterns, the aspect of variety gives the emperor an individual twist. We
should therefore not conceive of a topos as a meaningless pool of literary motifs
that is simply applied to any text. Topoi and stereotypes draw on certain pat-
terns of interpretation that are fixed in a society. These patterns have a high
interpretative power.7
Several topoi in the account of Nero recall Caligula.8 Like Nero after him,
Dio’s Caligula is enthusiastic about and spends enormous sums of money on
actors, the theatre, and horses (59.2.5; 59.13.5). He wishes to perform as a dan-
cer and actor on stage (59.29.6), and is not willing to play his role as emperor
or even as human being (καὶ πάντα μᾶλλον ἢ ἄνθρωπος αὐτοκράτωρ τε δοκεῖν εἶναι
ἤθελε, 59.26.8). He is extremely cruel (59.10.2–3). Just as Nero does later, he
urgently asks the leading men of the senate to come to him—not to talk about
politics, but to dance for them (59.5.5). Like his nephew, he will not accept
it if people do not attend his performances in the theatre (59.7.5). Dio also
depicts the beginnings and ends of Caligula’s and Nero’s reigns in similar ways.
Caligula’s behaviour towards the senate at the beginning of his reign foreshad-
ows Nero: Caligula at first aims at a good relationship with the senate (59.6.1–7),
just like Nero. The plan to murder Caligula is carried out when he announces
once more that he will perform as a dancer and in a tragedy (59.29.6).
Dio explicitly compares Caligula to Nero and to Tiberius. Tiberius was less
bad than Caligula, since he had at least kept power in his own hands (59.5.1–
2). Caligula, by contrast, was ruled by charioteers and gladiators, and was the
slave of actors and others connected with the stage (Γάιος δὲ ἤρχετο μὲν καὶ ὑπὸ
τῶν ἁρματηλατούντων καὶ ὑπὸ τῶν ὁπλομαχούντων, ἐδούλευε δὲ καὶ τοῖς ὀρχησταῖς
καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις τοῖς περὶ τὴν σκηνὴν ἔχουσι, 59.5.2). Nero later follows in the steps

5 That these misdeeds are highly individual is mirrored in the fact that a list of vices in Dio, as
presented in Kuhn-Chen 2002, 165–172, helpful as it is, does not capture exactly what Nero
and Domitian are reproached for.
6 See Bense 1982, 313 for this definition of modern advertising.
7 On the function of stereotypes and typological motifs in Dio cf. Gleason 2011, 59; 78. Cf. de
Blois 1999, 267: “Clichés were a means for getting a grasp on and interpreting reality.”
8 That Nero recalls Caligula is prominently pointed out later by Eutropius and Orosius: Eutr.
7.14.1; Oros. 7.7.1.
deconstruction and the construction of memory 251

of Caligula and even surpasses him (πρὸς τὸν Γάιον ἔτεινεν. ὡς δ’ ἅπαξ ζηλῶσαι
αὐτὸν ἐπεθύμησε, καὶ ὑπερεβάλετο, 61.5.1). Domitian too recalls Caligula, above
all in his contradictory character (59.4.1–5; 59.23.5).9 But Domitian is mainly
similar to Tiberius in his capacity for simulatio (57.1.1–6). At the end of his life
Dio’s Domitian is explicitly associated with Dio’s Nero and is even presented as
his avenger: he banishes and kills Epaphroditus, Nero’s freedman, because he
had not defended Nero (ἐπικαλέσας αὐτῷ ὅτι μὴ ἤμυνε τῷ Νέρωνι); by doing so
he aims to create a precedent for all freedmen (67.14.4).

1.2 Nero and Domitian Foreshadowing Later Emperors

The imperial typologies to which Nero and Domitian belong are also relevant
to Dio’s own times: Nero and Domitian not only recall Caligula and Tiberius,
they also foreshadow later emperors.10 Especially Commodus, Caracalla, and
Elagabalus are characterized along similar lines as Nero and Domitian, and so
are deconstructed by similar means.
Commodus recalls the bad emperors of the first century in many ways.
He is depicted as a mixture of Caligula, Nero, and Domitian. Like Caligula11
he performs as a gladiator (73[72].17.2; 19.2).12 As with Nero, the wrong com-
pany makes him worse (73[72].1.1). He does not wish to expose himself to
hard work (73[72].1.2; 2.2), knows only wantonness and entertainment, and
fulfils almost none of his tasks and duties (73[72].9.1; 10.2–3). Dio points out
his misuse of titles and names (73[72].16.1), as he does in Nero’s case. Com-
modus also takes money from rich people to spend it on his amusements
(73[72].16.3). Just like Nero, Commodus too stages his own performances by
directing his audience (73[72].20.2). With Commodus, as with Nero, child’s
play (παιδιά) can switch to seriousness (73[72].19.5). Domitian’s reign is also
recalled by the atmosphere of fear under Commodus.13 The murders commit-

9 That Domitian was less similar to his father and brother than to Nero, Caligula, and
Tiberius is pointed out by Eutropius (7.23.1): Domitianus mox accepit imperium frater ipsius
[scil. Titi] iunior Neroni aut Caligulae aut Tiberio similior quam patri vel fratri suo.
10 On Nero cf. Gowing 1997, 2587–2588. Dio’s contemporary emperors are even foreshad-
owed in the figures of the regal period, see Schulz 2019a, 315–319. Cf. Mallan 2014, 762 for
the pattern of judging rulers by their conduct towards the elite as applied already to Tar-
quinius Superbus.
11 Dio’s Commodus also recalls Dio’s Caligula in that both their predecessors, Marcus Aure-
lius and Tiberius, use the metaphor of the rising and the setting sun to refer to their
successors (58.28.4; 72[71].34.1).
12 For Dio, gladiators are among the most disdained human beings (51.7.2). Cf., e.g., the pro-
hibition of a senator from performing as gladiator in 38BCE (48.43.2–3).
13 Cf. p.246.
252 chapter 8

ted with poisoned needles, which happened under Domitian,14 reappear under
Commodus, as Dio explicitly states (ὅπερ που καὶ ἐπὶ τοῦ Δομιτιανοῦ ἐγεγόνει,
73[72].14.4).
At the same time the figure of Caracalla reminds us of Nero and Domitian.15
After the death of Plautianus, Caracalla and his brother Geta lack a controlling
authority, as does Nero after the death of Agrippina. Now they go to every
extreme in their conduct: they outrage women, abuse boys, embezzle money,
and make gladiators and charioteers their companions (77[76].7.1). With Agrip-
pina and Plautianus, Dio chooses two very negative characters who manage
to regulate a negative character disposition (of Nero and Caracalla, respect-
ively) for some time. Their influence prevents the bad characters of Nero and
Caracalla from breaking through completely. Caracalla excuses his absence
from the senate, as Nero does, by his hoarseness (78[77].3.3; Petr. Patr. Exc. Val.
136).16 He performs as charioteer (78[77].10.1), associates himself with the Sun
God’s method of driving (78[77].10.3), reveres the cithara-player Mesomedes
(78[77].12.7), and learns to dance (78[77].21.2). Caracalla recalls Domitian in
their common enmity towards their brothers and especially in their character
trait of simulation and paradoxical behaviour:17 Caracalla hates those people
most whom he purports to love most (78[77].11.5); the hatred for his brother is
manifest, among other things, in the abolition of the observance of his birth-
day (78[77].12.6). He buys an alleged defeat from his enemies (78[77].14.2), and
kills a Vestal virgin whom he himself has raped (78[77].16.1). His treatment of
adulterers also recalls Domitian (78[77].16.4).
The peak of all bad emperors, in whom all the negative forms of imperial
representation come together, is Dio’s Elagabalus.18 Especially in sexual and
religious matters he is even more transgressive than all the emperors before
him. He is shameful, lawless, and cruel in an innovative way (80[79].3.3). He
kills a certain Gannys by his own hand because the man had tried to force him

14 Cf. Murison 1999, 249 on 67.11.6: “More likely, it was an outbreak of food poisoning”.
15 Caracalla is also associated with proto-imperial figures who are negative: he visits Sulla’s
grave because, so Dio, he imitated his cruelty (78[77].12.7). Furthermore, Caracalla is asso-
ciated with Commodus. Dio’s Septimius Severus compares his son to Commodus in a way
that is negative for him: he blames Marcus Aurelius because he did not quietly dispose of
his son, and he threatens Caracalla with this remark (77[76].14.7). Indeed, Caracalla later
recalls Commodus when he is said to have supported the killing of his father during an
illness (77[76].15.2).
16 Nero and Caracalla treat the senate in a similar way, cf. Davenport 2012, 813.
17 On similarities between Domitian and Caracalla cf. Murison 1999, 23–27.
18 For Elagabalus recalling Nero see Osgood 2016, 189; for Elagabalus recalling Commodus
and Caracalla see Osgood 2016, 186–187.
deconstruction and the construction of memory 253

to live temperately and prudently (80[79].6.3). Under his rule several people
take leave of their senses (80[79].7.1–2). Dio’s Elagabalus performs as a chari-
oteer (80[79].14.2), and dances in the orchestra—but also, in a sense, when he
walks, sacrifices, accepts honours, or gives a speech (τά τε γὰρ ἄλλα καὶ ὠρχεῖτο,
οὔτι γε ἐν ὀρχήστρᾳ μόνον, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐμβαδίζων τρόπον τινὰ καὶ θύων ἀσπαζόμε-
νός τε καὶ δημηγορῶν, 80[79].14.3). He has himself circumcised and wants his
genitals to be cut off, dresses as a priest in a barbaric costume, and is called
“the Assyrian” (80[79].11.1–2). He sleeps with a Vestal virgin in order to father
a god (80[79].9.3). He sets himself above the gods and enjoys sexual excesses
(80[79].13.1–4). He wants to gain the reputation of an adulterer in order to
imitate the most debauched women (80[79].15.3). A certain Aurelius, who is
known for his large genitals, is brought to Elagabalus and receives an escort
larger than that of Abgar under Severus or Tiridates under Nero (80[79].16.2).
He crosses gender-boundaries, but even tries to break through the boundaries
of sex: thus he appears as man and as woman (καὶ περὶ μὲν τῶν γάμων αὐτοῦ,
ὧν τε ἐγάμει ὧν τε ἐγήματο, αὐτίκα λελέξεται· καὶ γὰρ ἠνδρίζετο καὶ ἐθηλύνετο καὶ
ἔπραττεν καὶ ἔπασχεν ἑκάτερα ἀσελγέστατα, “an account will be given presently
of his marriages, in which he both married and was bestowed in marriage;
for he appeared both as man and as woman, and in both relations conduc-
ted himself in the most licentious fashion”, 80[79].5.5) and wants to look and
appear like a woman (80[79].14.4); his wish is so strong that he even desires
a woman’s vagina and asks his doctors to give him one (ἐς τοσαύτην δὲ συν-
ηλάθη ἀσέλγειαν ὡς καὶ τοὺς ἰατροὺς ἀξιοῦν αἰδῶ γυναικείαν δι’ ἀνατομῆς αὐτῷ
μηχανήσασθαι, μεγάλους ὑπὲρ τούτου μισθοὺς αὐτοῖς προϊσχόμενος, “he carried his
lewdness to such a point that he asked the physicians to contrive a woman’s
vagina in his body by means of incision, promising them large sums for doing
so”, 80[79].16.7).
This short overview shows how closely Dio’s historiography comes to satire
and invective in the account of Elagabalus. We have seen satirical elements
in other depictions of bad emperors before,19 but for Elagabalus they abound.
This satire has been read as drawing attention to the disturbing political trends
after the death of Marcus Aurelius: Elagabalus is the disastrous climax of these
trends produced by the Severan dynasty.20 He is the last emperor whose fall Dio
himself both experienced and described. At the end of Dio’s work, the reigning
princeps is Severus Alexander. In that period Dio no longer spent much time in
Rome (80.1.2–3). He could only relate briefly the events up to his own second

19 See p.247–248.
20 See Osgood 2016, 180; 185.
254 chapter 8

consulship (80.2.1), which are not long or detailed enough to draw either a
positive or a negative picture of this emperor.21 But with the satirical peak
of Elagabalus, we could say, Dio clears the way, at least on a literary level, for
Severus Alexander, who is applauded for awarding Dio the consulship (80.5.3).
He also follows the climax of the bad emperors and is invited to produce a
strong antithesis to the previous emperor, by not becoming another Elagabalus,
Caracalla, Commodus, Domitian, Nero, or Caligula.

2 Hot Memory: Why Nero and Domitian?

2.1 Communicative and Cultural Memory in Cassius Dio

When Dio makes Nero and Domitian foreshadow contemporary emperors
of the third century CE, he assigns a new meaning to these principes of the
first century CE. This process of meaning-making can be better described and
understood with the help of theories of collective memory. Following Jan Ass-
mann, I wish to apply some central terms used in memory studies to Cassius
Dio and his Roman History: collective memory, communicative memory, cul-
tural memory, and hot memory. There are two forms of collective memory:
communicative and cultural memory. The two latter terms refer mainly to
two different levels of remembered time. Communicative memory contains
memories of the recent past, memories that a person shares with her contem-
poraries; it encompasses around 80 years.22 According to Jan Assmann, half
of this time, a period of 40 years, is an important inner division and a critical
threshold: “After forty years those who have witnessed an important event as an
adult will leave their future-oriented professional career, and will enter the age
group in which memory grows as does the desire to fix it and pass it on.”23 Cul-
tural memory refers to earlier fixed points in the past, including, for example,
foundation myths; it is not factual history and does not aim to remember the
past ‘as it was’, but as matters for the identity of the group.24 By ‘hot memory’ we
refer to cultural memory from a distant past that is still relevant for the present
and the communicative memory. Hot memory uses the depiction of a shared

21 Cf. Scott 2015, 174.

22 Cf. Assmann 2011, 36. For Dio of Prusa, for example, Nero is still part of communicative
memory: in the dialogue on beauty he decides not to take examples from olden times,
but to talk about “Nero and subjects of that kind, more recent and inglorious, which I can
remember” (ἀλλὰ Νέρωνος καὶ τοιούτων πραγμάτων νεωτέρων τε καὶ ἀδόξων ὧν μνημονεύω,
Dio Chrys. Or. 21.11).
23 Assmann 2011, 36.
24 Cf. Assmann 2011, 37–38.
deconstruction and the construction of memory 255

(imagined or ‘real’) past to contribute to the development of present issues and

intentions, and to the identity of the social group that is remembering.25
When we apply this theory to Cassius Dio and his Roman History and assume
that he became active as a writer around the year 193CE, we may construct
the following context: the communicative memory of his time reaches back
roughly 80 years to the end of Trajan’s and the beginning of Hadrian’s reign.26
The time in which Dio grew up, 40 years before he started writing, was the hey-
day of the Antonine principate under Antoninus Pius and Marcus Aurelius.27
We can detect the clear literary fingerprints of these two memorial watersheds
in Dio’s work.
The first half of this communicative memory—reaching roughly from Tra-
jan, Hadrian, and Antoninus Pius to Marcus Aurelius—is styled as a single
entity. This is achieved on the one hand by pointing out the break between
Domitian and Nerva/Trajan,28 and by the similarities between Dio’s Domitian
and Tiberius, which brings the Julio-Claudian and Flavian dynasties closer
together: Dio’s Domitian seems to come full circle to what Tiberius had star-
ted.29 This circle also creates a textual unity from which everything that follows
can be distinguished: Nerva and Trajan appear to incorporate a new beginning
even more clearly when the period before them is presented as a unit. On the
other hand, possible breaks after Trajan, especially in the reign of Hadrian, are
not underlined, but rather ignored or presented as insignificant. Accordingly,
the period from Nerva/Trajan to Marcus Aurelius is presented as another unit,
as a period of good emperors.30 A good example of this technique is Dio’s ambi-

25 See Assmann 2011, 62–69, who coins this term with reference to the concepts of ‘cold’ and
‘hot’ societies by Claude Lévi-Strauss (esp. Assmann 2011, 51–53).
26 Cf. Millar 1964, 36. For the reign of Hadrian, Dio also underlines his direct access to sources.
For Hadrian’s coming to power he speaks of his father as source (69.1.3). Additionally, he
refers to a letter of Hadrian, in which the emperor writes how horrible it is that he is not
able to die (69.17.3).
27 Cf. Scott 2015, 162 for the importance of the later Antonine dynasty to Cassius Dio: “The
admiration that he held for this period in which he grew up shaped his views of the
emperor (and others) in his adult age.”
28 For the relevance of this break for the Antonines and the Severans cf. Kemezis 2014,
275: “The emergence of the good ruler Trajan from the tyranny of Domitian remained
the founding moment of the Antonine-Severan dynasty and a key watershed at which
the favorably remembered past began.” However, Cassius Dio’s depiction of Trajan is not
exclusively positive, see Seelentag 2004, 488–492: in contrast to the merely positive view
of Trajan in the second century, Dio’s portrait of Trajan also has negative traits.
29 Cf. also p.200–201 for the similarities of Tiberius’ and Domitian’s character in Dio.
30 This does not contradict Kemezis’ division of the Roman History into four main narratives,
256 chapter 8

valent treatment and estimation of Hadrian.31 This becomes apparent when

Dio mentions that Hadrian was bad at the beginning and at the end of his reign
and that he was therefore almost not divinized (69.2.5; 69.23.2). But, by saying
so, Dio also confines Hadrian’s negative behaviour to a certain time. Antoninus
Pius finally succeeds in having the senators assign divine honours to Hadrian
(70.1.2–3).32 This positive evaluation of Hadrian’s memory (after diverse nego-
tiations between Antoninus Pius and the senators) has a great advantage for
Dio’s text: Hadrian is more useful for Dio as a good emperor than as a bad
one. Treating Hadrian as a good emperor allows Dio to make the period from
Nerva to his ideal princeps Marcus Aurelius appear as one continuous entity.
He can thus underline the break between Marcus Aurelius and Commodus all
the more.33 Thus in Dio, this transition is not only one of the worst emperors
following the best, but even a whole era changing. As we heard before: a Golden
Age turns into an age of iron, even of rust (72[71].36.4).
By contrast, the second, more recent half of the communicative memory—
including Marcus Aurelius, Commodus, and Septimius Severus—figures as a
time of severe change, which, as mentioned above, provides the key to under-
standing the whole work.34 These roughly forty recent years of communicative
memory are depicted not only as a change from gold to rust (from Marcus
Aurelius to Commodus), but also as a change back to dynastic rule (from Com-
modus to Septimius Severus). At the beginning of this dynasty stands Septimius
Severus, an ambivalent figure in Cassius Dio’s Roman History, who is difficult to
interpret. Dio has not created a coherent master-narrative for him. The nego-
tiations about him were obviously still going on, his memory still very recent.
Most contemporary readers had lived under his rule; much of the 22 years that

namely Early and Middle Republic, Late Republic, Principate, and Contemporary History
(cf. Kemezis 2014, 98), but just differentiates two periods within the Principate.
31 For Dio’s Hadrian see also Juntunen 2013, in particular 111–117 on the different phases of
Hadrian’s rule regarding his relationship with the senate, and Migliorati 2003, 337–368 on
the crisis between Dio’s Hadrian and the senate.
32 It was mainly the historical Antoninus Pius who made sure that Hadrian would be re-
membered as a good emperor. The senators originally even wanted memory sanctions
against Hadrian. On senatorial negotiations of Hadrian’s memory cf. Flower 2006, 275:
“Pius created an image of a world without punitive sanctions, in which Hadrian would
not be remembered as another Nero or Domitian. His new politics of memory reflected
a novel sense of elite consensus, as the senators recognized Pius as one of their own and
were willing to deify Hadrian as a gesture of goodwill toward his successor.”
33 Cf. Schwartz 1899/1957, 398, who favours a tripartite division of the Roman History: from
the beginnings of Rome to Augustus; from Augustus to Marcus Aurelius; from Commodus
to the end of contemporary history.
34 See p.181.
deconstruction and the construction of memory 257

Dio spent in the city of Rome coincided with Septimius Severus’ reign.35 His
dynasty is still in power. The question of how he should be evaluated has not
yet been answered finally.
For Dio as narrator and author of the Roman History, Septimius Severus
plays an important role.36 Dio’s two previous, shorter works had been quite
positive about him. But his attitude towards him seems to have changed, as is
reflected in the narrative. Septimius Severus becomes—both in history and in
literature—an ambivalent figure as a ruler.37 At the beginning of Dio’s narrat-
ive, the emperor honours Pertinax, whom Dio favours, organizes a ceremonial
funeral, and gives a laudatory funeral speech himself. He thus associates him-
self clearly with Pertinax at the beginning (75[74].4.1–5.5). After his victory over
Albinus, Septimius Severus changes his point of reference.38 Now he follows
Commodus and sets himself in the tradition of Marius, Sulla, and Augustus
(76[75].7.4–8.4).
Dio’s contemporary readers share his communicative memory. Unlike Tac-
itus’ readers, not one of them had lived under Nero or Domitian. But when the
third century re-negotiates how to define good and bad emperors,39 the sim-
ilarities with the bad emperors of the first century become significant again.
This interpretation ties in with reading the memory of the bad emperors in
the first century as ‘hot memory’ and the stories about them as ‘myths’ in Jan
Assmann’s sense: “Hot memory not only measures out the past, as an instru-
ment of chronological orientation and control, but it also uses past references
to create a self-image and to provide support for hopes and for intentions. This
is called myth.”40 Dio assigns meaning to these memories, which makes them
‘hot’ for the present times and for the future. He is treating the highly import-
ant question of how the contemporary emperors are to be evaluated compared
to Nero and Domitian. The ‘myth’ has to be given a new meaning. In Dio’s case,
‘hot’ memory of the early Roman emperors helps to define a good monarch in
the third century CE. Dio evaluates the present by comparing it to the distant
past.41

35 For the time Dio spends in the city of Rome see Gowing 2016, 117.
36 Dio has Septimius Severus feature in his text as instigator of Dio’s literary work. Dio’s Sep-
timius Severus says to Dio (79[78].10.1–2): “Come here, Dio; draw near, that you may both
learn accurately and write an account of all that is said and done.”
37 See Madsen 2016, 154–156; Rantala 2016, 160–161.
38 On Septimius Severus’ change in this passage cf. Hose 2007, 461–463. For Dio’s Lucius Tar-
quinius Priscus as foreshadowing this change of conduct see Schulz 2019a, 322–323.
39 The criteria differ depending on the ruling emperor, cf. Davenport 2012, 813–814.
40 Assmann 2011, 62.
41 Cf. Gowing 1992, 292.
258 chapter 8

2.2 Historiography as Medium of Collective Memory

The medium in which Dio presents this hot memory is historiography. It is a
crucial medium for the collective memory of the Roman aristocracy. Histori-
ography is an instrument to influence those who share a collective memory.42
We have seen above that the senate was not a unified, homogeneous group
with one attitude towards each emperor, and that Dio is not simply the repres-
entative and mouthpiece of a homogeneous social order: the senatorial elite
was divided and had different, opposing, and contradictory views about the
emperors.43 As Dio’s potential addressees we should therefore think first of the
senators.44 They form a group, a memory community, that defines its identity
by a shared memory of the Roman past: the group is dealing with the ques-
tion of what they do not wish to forget, of what they have to remember.45 Dio
addresses the aristocracy and offers an interpretation of Roman history that
can unite them.46
From the perspective of the emperors, historiography is a means of power.
As a historian Cassius Dio shows that he has power over the presentation of
history and the way emperors are remembered in the future, something in
which they must have been highly interested. Assmann refers to this relation-
ship between ruler and historiography as the prospective side of the alliance
of power and memory.47 At least indirectly, the Roman History therefore also

42 Dio’s historiography is hence not only literature for its own sake, as Schmidt 1999, 95; 101
claims.
43 See p.173. It is therefore important for Dio to show what it meant to be a member of the
elite from his point of view (see Kemezis 2014, 278).
44 The debate on Dio’s readership is still lively. Cf. Ameling 1997, 2492 who thinks of the sen-
ators, whom Dio has yet to convince. Gowing 1992, 292–293 thinks of senators who are
new to the senate. Senators and (contemporary and later) emperors are mentioned as
envisaged addressees by Fechner 1986, 247; 250; Gowing 1992, 292–293; Hose 1994, 424;
Ameling 1997, 2491–2493; Hose 2007, 466. Wirth 1985, 13 and Aalders 1986, 290–291; 302
propose readers in the imperial cities. But see Gowing 2016, 118; 122 for the necessity that
the reader be familiar with the topography of the city of Rome.
45 Cf. Assmann 2011,16 on memory communities.
46 This is why the contemporary senate is not criticized. On the senators as passive in Dio cf.
Kemezis 2014, 142. The senate for example gives more honours to Plautianus than to the
emperor Septimius Severus (76[75].14.7), but it is excused for this action since it was, so
Dio, mainly Septimius Severus’ own fault (αἴτιος δὲ τούτων αὐτὸς ὁ Σεουῆρος μάλιστ’ ἐγένετο,
76[75].15.1). There is no evidence in Dio that the contemporary senate could have behaved
differently, cf. Gowing 1992, 23–25.
47 Cf. Assmann 2011, 54: “Rulers usurp not only the past but also the future because they want
to be remembered, and to commemorate their own deeds by monuments, ensuring that
their glory will be narrated, sung, immortalized or, at the very least, recorded in archives.
Power ‘legitimizes itself retrospectively and immortalizes itself prospectively.’”
deconstruction and the construction of memory 259

addresses every emperor who has an interest in preserving a good memory

of his reign after his death. We do not have to assume a clear protreptic or
moral purpose to Dio’s work;48 but readers can easily see that emperors are
evaluated as good or bad depending on how they play the imperial role.49 By
deconstructing imperial representation Dio makes clear which behaviour will
be remembered positively and which negatively. History, as presented by types
of emperors, is also to a certain degree repetitive: one may learn something
from the patterns evolving, once they are understood, and then eventually
change the course of history.50 Dio seems not too optimistic about the actual
influence of his work,51 and it does not offer much moral advice or didactic
impact for his peers.52 But, as he points out himself (47.11.5), there is still hope

48 Kuhn-Chen 2002, 243–247 reads Dio too one-sidedly as a moralist with didactic and
paraenetic intentions, addressing emperors in general. A reading of Dio as moralist is
also suggested by Edmondson 1992, 49; 55 (readers are to imitate the virtues that Dio
describes) and Rich 1989, 89 (Dio as “political moralist, who sought to draw from the past
lessons about how emperors should conduct themselves”). On Dio’s paraenetic intentions
cf. Fechner 1986, 248–250. Lintott 1997, 2499 categorizes Dio as pragmatic historiography,
since it was about paideia.
49 Cf. Kemezis 2014, 140; 143: Kemezis points out that Dio does not aim to evaluate an
emperor’s character from a psychological point of view; he does not think of emperors as
individuals in the modern sense, but in roles and structures that are prior to the emperor
and his acts (cf. Kemezis 2014, 115–116 about the personalities of the late Republic; Kemezis
2014, 139–140 about emperors). Cf. Kuhn-Chen 2002, 244 for an implicit code of behaviour
for emperors, which can be reconstructed. See also Ando 2016, 573 on “a catalog of gestures
and actions that can be performed for well or ill”, referring to the umbrella term “all those
things that a good emperor does” in 74(73).5.2 (about Pertinax).
50 Dio does not subscribe to a teleological concept of history (against Bering-Staschewski
1981, esp. 126–127, who claims that Dio’s idea of the development of history was teleolo-
gical; cf. the review of Manuwald 1984, 678–679). On the relation between predetermin-
ation and free will cf. Swan 2004, 9–13: “In short, Dio’s universe admits both human and
divine free will” (Swan 2004, 11). Dio’s Cicero argues for the usefulness of history in his
speech after the murder of Caesar, in which he demands amnesty for the murders: the
purpose of recalling former evils is to guard against having ever again to suffer their like
(44.31.2).
51 Cf. Gowing 1992, 297 for Dio’s pessimistic attitude. See Fechner 1986, 248 on Dio’s ambigu-
ous attitude towards political development, which he reads as a mixture of fear of decline
and hope, and of decadence and stability.
52 In the Nero narrative, the figure of Thrasea Paetus partly functions as a model of behaviour
which, however, will not be successful as an individual case. After the matricide, Dio’s Nero
is no longer criticized by others. He hence must believe that he is effectively concealing
his deeds, or, even worse, that they are not wrong. This is supported by the flatterers; the
senators pretend to be happy. Only Thrasea Paetus provides an exception (62[61].15.1–4).
He is also the only one not to pretend that he likes Nero’s performance at the Iuvenalia
(62[61].20.4).
260 chapter 8

for development—which depends mainly on the person of the emperor.53 His-

toriography as a medium of collective memory is part of that hope, since col-
lective memory organizes the experience of both the past and the present and
future.54
Dio shows his power over imperial memory most clearly when he critic-
ally reacts to emperors who try to manipulate memory and when he himself
enacts a kind of textual damnatio memoriae. Dio criticizes emperors who try
to manipulate memory. He uncovers these attempts and writes against them.
Dio’s Tiberius, for example, tries to suppress the memory of an architect whose
accomplishments he envies. He does so by not permitting his name to be
entered in the records, by banishing and finally killing him (57.21.5–7). Dio
twice points out that he does not know the name of this person (ἀρχιτέκτων
γάρ τις, οὗ τὸ ὄνομα οὐδεὶς οἶδε; οὗτος οὖν ὅστις ποτὲ ὠνομάζετο, 57.21.5). He appar-
ently would have been happy to give his name, had he known it, for the name
of a person and his memory are often clearly interconnected in Dio.55 But, in
this case, Dio can at least indicate the gap in memory that Tiberius created.
Dio’s Domitian likewise manipulates public memory, as we have seen, espe-
cially when he tries to offend the memory of Titus (67.2.3) and when he forbids
that the names of those who died in the revolt of Saturninus be written down
(67.11.3). Dio’s Septimius Severus aims to manipulate collective memory when
he takes away books from almost all the sanctuaries in Egypt and has the tomb
of Alexander closed so that no one will be able to see Alexander’s body or read
the books there (76[75].13.2).

53 Cf. his general consideration in 47.11.5: “Hence one should neither be so alarmed in the
face of the calamities of the moment as to lose all hope, nor be so carried away by his
immediate elation as to be reckless, but, by placing his expectation of the future midway
between the two, should make reliable calculations for either event.” Contemporary times
are understood as bad, but this process of deterioration can be turned around, cf. Ameling
1997, 2482–2484; Murison 1999, 27; Swan 2004, 13. Cf. also Hose 2007, 467.
54 Cf. Assmann 2011, 28: “Thus collective memory operates simultaneously in two directions:
backward and forward. It not only reconstructs the past but it also organizes the experi-
ence of the present and the future. It would therefore be absurd to draw a contrast between
the ‘principle of memory’ and the ‘principle of hope,’ because each conditions the other
and each is unthinkable without the other.”
55 On the close connection of name and memory in Dio cf. 63(64).6.51: the centurion Septo-
nius Densus defends Galba to his own death; his name is therefore worth remembering
(καὶ διὰ τοῦτό γε καὶ τὸ ὄνομα αὐτοῦ ἐνέγραψα, ὅτι ἀξιώτατός ἐστι μνημονεύεσθαι). See also
67.10.1 about the regulation of Tettius Julianus in the war against the Dacians in 88 CE,
according to which soldiers should write their names and the names of their centurions
on their shield so that good and bad deeds may be more easily recognized. Dio mentions
this among the noteworthy events during the war. He has a strong interest in the possib-
ility that good and bad deeds can be assigned clearly to their initiators.
deconstruction and the construction of memory 261

In these examples Dio presents himself as the corrector of memory, who at

least points out gaps in memory even if he cannot fill them. Other instances
show him as executing a literary damnatio memoriae. After there had been
no memory sanctions under the Antonine dynasty Septimius Severus re-intro-
duced new ones.56 Dio reacts to this new practice by himself engaging in lit-
erary memory sanctions: the contemporary practices of damnatio memoriae
influenced Dio’s view and presentation of contemporary history.57 But he also
thinks of his work as conducting its own forms of damnatio memoriae, as we
see most clearly in the case of Caracalla. When Dio mentions that Caracalla did
not suffer damnatio memoriae he states that the people no longer called him
“Antoninus” (79[78].9.2–3).58 He himself refrains from calling him “Antoninus”
too. From now on Dio conducts his own abolitio nominis and refers to him only
by his nicknames such as “Caracallus” or “Tarautas”.59 This is certainly not a
coincidence produced by the epitomization of the text.60

3 Genealogies versus Typologies

The damnation enacted by nicknames has further consequences. They not only
deride Caracalla, they also leave him without a genealogy: he no longer belongs
to any dynasty.61 The same applies to Dio’s Elagabalus and his several unfavour-
able nicknames (80[79].1.1).62 Like his use of nicknames, we can also read Dio’s
typology of bad emperors as directed against imperial genealogies. One of Dio’s
main points of criticism about the Severans is that they went back to dynastic
rule as opposed to electing a suitable successor independent of his family and

56 On memory sanctions in the Roman Empire see Flower 2006, whose book ends with
the Severans. In addition, Gleason 2011 offers important information about the revival
of memory sanctions under the Severans. On the changed circumstances of the senat-
ors since Commodus and the revival of memory sanctions in this period see Gleason 2011,
37–39.
57 Gleason 2011 convincingly interprets Dio’s contemporary anecdotes about masquerades
and unstable identities in the context of practices of damnatio memoriae in his time.
58 Cf. Gleason 2011, 66.
59 “Caracallus” is the nickname for his transgressive foreign clothing style (79[78].3.3).
60 Especially since we have the original text from 79(78).2 to 80(79).8.3 preserved in the
manuscript Vaticanus Graecus 1288 (with gaps).
61 Caracalla’s official name, given to him by Septimius Severus at the beginning of the reign,
was Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (cf. Rantala 2016, 164).
62 Cf. Osgood 2016, 181–183 on “Pseudo-Antoninus”.
262 chapter 8

genealogy.63 The Severans did indeed make genealogies an important part of

their imperial representation.64 They were well aware that a regime needs an
origin and memory.65 The Severan dynasty hence legitimated itself by a close
association with the Antonine dynasty. The Severan period is shaped by the
attempt to establish such genealogies, which entails new narratives about the
past.66 This included bogus familial connections. Septimius Severus was the
first emperor to develop a fictive lineage to another emperor, Marcus Aurelius,
consistently in all media of imperial representation.67 He associated himself
both with the Antonines and with Augustus.68
Dio deconstructs such genealogical claims in his work.69 First, he underlines
the constructed character of lineages and genealogies and has his figures con-
struct them themselves. Dio shows Septimius Severus searching for a father and
has a certain Auspex, who is known for his jokes, congratulate him on finally
finding one in Marcus Aurelius (77[76].9.4). But, as briefly touched upon above,

63 Cf. Madsen 2016, 139; 155–157. Davenport/Mallan 2014, 657–661 read Dio’s version of Had-
rian’s adoption speech as directed against the contemporary practice of dynastic rule.
64 See Lusnia 2014, 46–49 for Septimius Severus.
65 Cf. Assmann 2011, 53–54 on the relationship between power, in the sense of political rule,
and memory.
66 Cf. Kemezis 2014, 5: “Part of what emperors needed consensus approval of was their own
version of their personal and dynastic histories and the significance of those stories within
the larger history of the Roman people.”
67 Cf. Hekster 2015, 205–217.
68 On Septimius Severus’ representation as a second Augustus and the perception of this
representation around 200 CE cf. Barnes 2008, esp. 251; 256–259; 264; 266, on the Augustan
notion ob rem publicam restitutam (on the triumphal arch against the Parthians 203CE),
on the autobiography, on the marriage laws, and the Saecular Games. On the association
of the historical Septimius Severus with Augustus and the Antonines cf. Swain 2007, 12;
17–18. Cf. also Gleason 2011, 56 on the association of Septimius Severus, who was neither
by birth nor by adoption part of a dynasty, with Antonine genealogy as justification of
his succession. On genealogies in the second century in general and the role of tradition
and legitimization of a reign by associating the ruler with an earlier emperor or dynasty
cf. Dmitriev 2004, 213–214. On the imperial representation of Septimius Severus cf. Rubin
1980, 21–40.
69 We can thus read Dio as part of a contemporary critical discourse that fundamentally
questions the narratives about the past developed by the Severans. Kemezis has shown
this in his study of Cassius Dio, Philostratus, and Herodian. He regards the change in
political circumstances after the dynasty of the Antonines as the reason for this critical
discourse about the past: there is no longer consensus about how to interpret the past
(Kemezis 2014, 4; 8; 11; 14; 277). On Dio’s role in this discourse cf. Kemezis 2014, 92: “Dio
challenges the emperors of his time not only on their presentation of themselves, but on
their interpretation of how all of Roman history works, on the origins and role of the mon-
arch, and on the forces that drive change for good and for ill.” Cf. Kemezis 2014, 103–104;
146.
deconstruction and the construction of memory 263

Septimius Severus also styles himself as the brother of Commodus (76[75].7.4)

and sets himself explicitly in a series not only with him, but also with Marius
and Sulla70 (76[75].8.1). He distances himself from Caesar and Pompey: their
clemency, as Dio’s Septimius Severus points out, proved their ruin (76[75].8.1).71
Elagabalus likewise constructs his own genealogy.72 He purports to be Cara-
calla’s son (80[79].2.2) and allegedly aims to emulate Augustus and Marcus
Aurelius (80[79].1.3).
A second way in which Dio deconstructs imperial genealogies is by offering
alternative typologies into which emperors can be set. For Nero, who is only the
adoptive son of Claudius, Dio has his Boudicca construct a disgraceful genea-
logy: she depicts him, as we have seen, as a woman, and puts him in a series
with Nitocris, Semiramis, Messalina, and Agrippina (62.6.2–3).73 The character
Boudicca is taking up the narrator’s typology, as Dio has previously charac-
terized Agrippina as a second Messalina (61[60].33.21). Later his Julia Domna
enters the typology when she is said to strive for power after the murder of her
son Caracalla, and to plan to put herself on the same level as Semiramis and
Nitocris (79[78].23.3).74 The case is different for Domitian, since he is biologic-
ally connected with two good emperors, his father Vespasian and his brother
Titus. Dio hence puts emphasis on proving this natural genealogy to be mean-
ingless: Domitian is, as we have seen, constantly distanced from his father and
brother.
Dio’s strategy of deconstruction, by which he creates his own typologies
and challenges official imperial genealogies, offers an alternative to the con-
structions of contemporary emperors. His form of deconstruction of imperial
representation implies that the Severans are not like the Antonines with whom
they associate themselves. They rather appear as close to the emperors of the
first century: Dio’s Commodus, Caracalla, and Elagabalus are not like Augustus
and Marcus Aurelius, but like Caligula, Nero, and Domitian.

70 For Sulla as a negative exemplum in Cassius Dio used by Septimius Severus see Urso 2016;
Rantala 2016, 170–172.
71 On the discourse on clemency in Severan times see Rantala 2016, 168–170.
72 On the role of Caracalla for Elagabalus’ dynastic legitimacy cf. Gleason 2011, 69.
73 Boudicca’s use of this genealogy is hence another example of the intrusion of the narrator
upon one of his characters, as discussed on p.211–215. See also Adler 2011, 151.
74 On Julia Domna’s interest in Semiramis cf. Moscovich 2004, 366.
Conclusion to Part 3

Cassius Dio’s mode of deconstruction of imperial representation, of the em-

peror’s image as he himself, those close to him, and others construct it in certain
areas such as military actions, buildings programmes, and divinity, is closely
intertwined with the socio-political discourses of the early third century. His
portraits of Nero and Domitian cannot, therefore, be studied in isolation, but
have to be analysed as part of his large-scale historiographical work, which was
written under the Severans (chapter 6). The Roman History fits in well with lit-
erary trends of the time and is strongly influenced by contemporary history
(chapter 6.1). It shows a clear interest in depicting imperial representation and
in presenting it as transgressive, as we can see, for example, from Dio’s treat-
ment of honours offered to emperors and proto-imperial figures (chapter 6.2).
Imperial representation is deconstructed, i.e. dismantled and framed negat-
ively, by literary strategies which can be divided into five groups focusing on
different aspects of imperial actions: the aspect of action and social norm; of
action and character; of the combination of several actions; of the choice of
actions to be presented; of actions and emotions. We find these strategies of
deconstruction throughout the imperial narrative, both in the epitomized sec-
tions, which have to be studied with caution, and in the sections that have
survived in full (chapter 7). Several narratological and rhetorical techniques
form part of this process of deconstruction in Cassius Dio, as has been ana-
lysed in detail above. As regards these strategies, Cassius Dio does not lag
behind Tacitus. A first strategy of deconstruction concerns an imperial action
or form of representation that neglects a social norm. The negative connota-
tions of neglected social norms are applied to forms of imperial representa-
tion throughout the work: they appear as foreign and unmanly, as hubristic
and directed against nature, and as not funny, but crazy—thus opposing pos-
sible humorous interpretations of transgressive forms of imperial represent-
ation, such as Nero’s wedding with Sporus and Domitian’s funeral banquet
(chapter 7.1). Second, imperial actions are deconstructed by the creation of per-
suasive characters for bad emperors. Characterization makes certain forms of
imperial representation plausible, and the actions depicted are in turn used
for explicit characterizations. Contrasts with other figures—in Nero’s case with
Boudicca, Corbulo, Tiridates, and Vindex, in Domitian’s case with Vespasian,
Titus, and Decebalus—or comparisons triggered by the identity in place or
time of actions help to sharpen the picture of the characters. The device of
focalization adds further plausibility to the deconstructed portrait: it presents
the emperor’s motives (which appear in part to be more important than his

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conclusion to part 3 265

actions) and provides different points of view on him, for example, the views
of his relatives, the people, and contrasting figures (chapter 7.2). Third, Dio
deconstructs imperial representation by combining several imperial actions.
This may concern actions by an emperor that are in disproportion to the trivial
motive that prompted to them, to their costs, to the social inversion they entail,
or to themselves: the emperor’s behaviour is often depicted as contradict-
ory. The technique of combination may become effective through disposition:
actions can be presented in an amplifying, manipulative way or in a persuas-
ive order that suggests logical connections where only temporal ones are given.
Temporal order is less important for the rubrics Dio presents, which resemble
Suetonian ordering structures (chapter 7.3). Fourth, imperial representation is
deconstructed by the choice of elements used to present imperial actions and
forms of representation in the text. Dio selects his material carefully, as we can
see from his treatment of catalogues: catalogues of bad imperial deeds may
be included, refused, or hinted at by a selection of individual elements of the
(potential) catalogue. In focusing on the imperial role Dio selects the role of the
performer for Nero and the role of the military autocrat for Domitian as most
suitable for criticism. In general, material forms of imperial representation are
more rarely selected for deconstruction than performative ones, because the
latter are regarded both as more important and as easier to control by the
text. An extreme form of selection is the omission of either certain pieces of
information altogether, or of their details and circumstances, although in the
case of epitomized parts of the text such omissions can only be postulated,
not proven (chapter 7.4). A fifth strategy of deconstruction concerns imperial
actions and emotions: Dio depicts an atmosphere full of emotional dilemmas
and fear, which is partly counterbalanced and partly worsened by laughter and
ridicule (chapter 7.5).
These strategies of deconstruction are applied to emperors throughout the
whole principate, which creates typologies of bad emperors and influences
the communicative memory of Dio’s time (chapter 8). Nero and Domitian are
part of these typologies since they recall earlier emperors, mainly Tiberius and
Caligula, and foreshadow contemporary emperors, mainly Commodus, Cara-
calla, and Elagabalus (chapter 8.1). As an integral part of such a typology the
memory of Nero and Domitian is ‘hot memory’: it assigns new meanings to
them that are relevant to the new discussion about imperial representation in
the early third century, of which Dio’s historiography is an important medium
(chapter 8.2). As part of this discussion Dio’s typologies offer an alternative
reading to contemporary genealogies. Dio thereby challenges the official Sev-
eran imperial representation (chapter 8.3).
 part 4
Suetonius: Deconstruction and Entertainment

∵
Introduction to Part 4

This part Four of the book studies the deconstruction of Nero’s and Domitian’s
imperial representation, their imperial image as created by themselves, their
entourage, and others, in fields such as military actions, building programmes,
and divinity, in Suetonius’ biographies and inquires how and why Suetonius’
strategies against Nero and Domitian differ from the strategies applied by
Tacitus and Cassius Dio. The inclusion of explicitly positive material on the
two bad emperors makes Suetonius’ text ambiguous. With reference to the
biographical structure of the text I will argue that this ambiguity is a creative
literary feature: Suetonius’ form of deconstruction, i.e. his way of re-shaping
positive or neutral images of Nero and Domitian, builds on historiographical
deconstruction on the one hand, but aims at entertainment on the other. It
shares this purpose with another contemporary discourse in which it parti-
cipates, namely the miscellany and encyclopaedic literature of the imperial
period.
This analysis of Suetonian deconstruction draws on historiographical de-
construction, but the comparison of the three authors does not depend on
chronology: Cassius Dio wrote three generations after Suetonius, and the rela-
tionship of Suetonius’ Caesares and Tacitus’ larger works—especially the
Annals, the main work that allows us to study Tacitean deconstruction—
remains unresolved.1 The comparison is rather between the works’ structures
and strategies, which will help to bring out the specific character of each mode
of deconstruction. Throughout the analysis, Nero and Domitian (and for the
latter the text is again much shorter) will be at the centre of the analysis, but
other Lives will be drawn on too. The inclusion of passages from the Lives of
other bad emperors such as Caligula and Tiberius and of good emperors such as
Vespasian and Titus avoids an isolated reading of only two Lives.2 The interpret-
ation of Suetonius’ deconstruction of imperial representation proposed here
will also offer a new way of understanding the quality of this work, which has
been evaluated very variously.3

1 For different scholarly positions see e.g. Townend 1967, 88–89 (Suetonius did not use Tacitus
as a source); Wardle 1998, 431 (Suetonius was able to draw on the Histories, but the relationship
with the Annals is unclear); Bowersock 1998, 206 (“In all probability Suetonius was writing at
the same time as Tacitus was at work on his Annals and covering much of the same material.”).
2 I have used the edition of Kaster 2016 as well as the translations of Edwards 2000 and Hurley
2011, also for paraphrases, and current Loeb translations of other authors.
3 On the history of Suetonian scholarship see Galand-Hallyn 1991 and in addition Poignault
2009. See also p.271.

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270 introduction to part 4

Chapter 9 briefly introduces the structure of the Suetonian text that has eli-
cited these diverse judgements, which is important for understanding the rela-
tionship between Suetonius’ rubric system and the presentation of imperial
representation. Suetonius’ rubrics are small text entities with headwords and
labels such as crudelitas, luxuria, pietas, habitus, forma, expeditiones, which
suggest how to read the material presented. They are not in chronological
order. Their disposition is rather flexible and depends on the structure as
well as the effect and emphasis aimed for in each biography. How this rub-
ric structure makes biographical deconstruction distinct from historiograph-
ical deconstruction is explored in chapter 10. That chapter is in three parts.
I first discuss the use of historiographical strategies comparable to those of
Tacitus and Cassius Dio in Suetonius by referring to the results of the previous
chapters on the historiographers. This makes it possible, second, to highlight
techniques that depend more on the specific genre and structure of Suetonius’
biographies. The difference between Suetonius and the historiographers is
here partly a difference of degree. But some techniques of deconstruction are
also (almost) exclusive to Suetonius and are very typical of his rubric system.
They are also the justification for why we can still speak of ‘deconstruction’
in Suetonius’ case. Third, I will focus on ambivalent techniques in Suetonius
that weaken deconstruction, on features that do not allow for—or do not aim
at—deconstruction in the full historiographical sense. This ambiguity is not a
weakness of the author, but a stimulus for the reader. I will argue that Suetonius’
biographies do not present fixed images of emperors. They allow for several
voices about the emperors to be heard and for tensions between different inter-
pretations to arise. Chapter 11 offers an explanation for this ambivalent use of
historiographical strategies in Suetonius. It reads Suetonius not in relation to
Tacitus and Cassius Dio, but to Pliny the Elder and Aulus Gellius, and positions
Suetonius not (only) within the historiographical discourse but within the dis-
course of knowledge and entertainment typical of miscellany literature.
 chapter 9

Biography and Eccentric Representation

1 Structure and Criticism: Current Debates on Suetonius

Suetonius, who wrote his works as a contemporary of Tacitus under the emper-
ors Trajan and Hadrian at the beginning of the second century, is the inventor
of Roman imperial biography. His twelve Lives from Julius Caesar to Domitian
have both entertained and informed centuries of readers. They were models
for later authors such as Marius Maximus (third century), a contemporary of
Cassius Dio, and even Alcuin at the court of Charlemagne. In the Middle Ages
and the Renaissance Suetonius was admired as the biographer par excellence.
In contrast to this high estimation, modern scholarship has judged him very
variably.1 On the one hand, some scholars of Ancient History and Latin Liter-
ature deny that he is to be seen as a real historian or successful writer.2 On the
other hand, this negative image of Suetonius, which was mainly formed at the
beginning of the twentieth century, has been challenged since the 1950s by a
much more positive evaluation, initiated by Wolf Steidle.3
Suetonius may have commented on the literary form of the Caesares at the
beginning of his work, which is lost. The characteristic feature of the Caesares
is the presentation of the material in a mixture of narrative passages, which
in general observe chronology, and thematically structured rubrics, which he
calls species (Aug. 9). Suetonius explains this structure of his biographies: he
wants to follow the characteristic elements of an emperor’s life (partes) one by
one (singillatim) not chronologically but by topics (neque per tempora sed per
species); by this method the characteristic elements of life are to be presented
and perceived more distinctly (quo distinctius demonstrari cognoscique possint)

1 Baldwin 1983 is still helpful and a good starting point for the traditional questions of scholar-
ship on Suetonius. Such questions concern genre, sources, chronological order of the twelve
Lives, form and date of publication, relationship with Suetonius’ other works, esp. the De viris
illustribus. See also the lucid review of Baldwin 1983 and Wallace-Hadrill 1983 by Bradley 1985.
2 This estimation has been influenced mainly by the works of Macé 1900; Leo 1901; Funaioli
1931. See also Paratore 1959; Dihle 1987. More recent scholarship points out that Suetonius
did not aim to offer historiographical narratives and should therefore not be judged by his-
toriographical standards; see e.g. Gascou 2001, 159: “Suétone n’a jamais prétendu offrir à ses
lecteurs un récit historique” (= Gascou 1984, 801); cf. Gascou 2001, 164 on Suetonius as “un
écrivain qui n’ a jamais pensé écrire des ouvrages d’ histoire”.
3 See Steidle 1951/²1963.

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272 chapter 9

(Aug. 9). There is no strict scheme applied to all the Lives. But especially the
beginning of a vita up to the start of the reign and the final section that depicts
the events surrounding an emperor’s death are given in chronological order. In
other passages, the material is presented under rubrics that illustrate several
aspects of the emperor and his imperial representation (such as the emperor
as military leader, the emperor’s building endeavours), and positively or neg-
atively evaluated patterns of behaviour, the virtues (virtutes) and vices (vitia)
of his character.4 The vices that Suetonius selects as rubrics coincide to a high
degree with the well-established characteristics of the rhetorical tyrant, which
are vis, superbia, libido, crudelitas or saevitia, and avaritia.5
Though the distinction between chronological passages and rubrics may
seem clear, the two kinds of disposition also overlap. The elements of a single
rubric may be given in chronological order, as within the Neronian rubric
crudelitas/saevitia,6 which starts with family murders in chronological order
(Ner. 33–35). Also, the order of several rubrics may follow chronology.7 Two
rubrics on Domitian’s vices for example, saevitia (Dom. 10–11) and cupiditas
(Dom. 12.1–2), are presented chronologically: Suetonius’ Domitian declined
into cruelty more rapidly than into greed (et tamen aliquanto celerius ad saevi-
tiam descivit quam ad cupiditatem, Dom. 10.1). Furthermore, chronological or
narrative passages sometimes contain rubrics. Thus Nero’s last days and his
death are presented in chronological order (Ner. 40–49), but nonetheless the
presentation includes rubrics (e.g. contumeliae in Ner. 45.2; portents in Ner. 46).
Several scholars consider this manner of literary presentation to be inappro-
priate or bad, or even claim no literary technique is applied at all.8 Other schol-
ars, by contrast, assert that Suetonius has and follows a clear literary purpose
and strict literary principles.9 Connected with this manner of literary present-
ation are two much discussed topics of scholarship. First, Suetonius’ presenta-

4 On Suetonian structure see Hurley 2014 (on rubrics Hurley 2014, 22–23), who points out that
the scheme of disposition developed in the Life of Augustus is varied greatly in the other Lives,
in her opinion with varying degrees of success (and least successfully in the case of emperors
with shorter reigns). On Suetonian virtutes and vitia cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1983, 142–174; on the
topics of rubrics and virtues and vices see e.g. Lambrecht 1995, 512–513.
5 For these characteristic vices of tyrants see Dunkle 1971, 15.
6 On crudelitas and saevitia as tyrannical faults see Dunkle 1971, 14–15: both terms denote
cruelty, but saevitia additionally carries the aspect of animalistic ferocity, hysteria, or mani-
acal sadism.
7 There is also a natural connection between chronological order and some rubrics, for example
when Julius Caesar’s life is depicted in the sequence of the cursus honorum (Iul. 5–23).
8 See e.g. D’Anna 1954; Döpp 1972; Flach 1972. Mouchova 1968 takes a middle position.
9 See e.g. Gugel 1977; Baldwin 1983; Pausch 2004.
biography and eccentric representation 273

tion of his material raises the question of how neutral and objective we should
consider his work to be. Does the author present his material with the neutral-
ity of an erudite collector and scholar?10 Or does he—at least implicitly—make
or suggest ideological and political judgements?11 Second, Suetonius’ manner
of presentation brings up the question of the influences on his work. While
forms of Hellenistic biography have long been considered decisive, Roman
factors, especially Roman rhetoric, have increasingly been analysed in recent
studies too.12 I will argue that Suetonius presents a highly rhetorical but non-
political form of literary deconstruction of imperial representation.

2 Rubrics and Representation: Fragmentation and

Re-contextualization

The rubrics that Suetonius uses already in the first biography, of Julius Caesar,
reappear in other Lives. They can be grouped together to form longer sections. A
first, more official section of rubrics (Iul. 37–44.3) presents among other things
triumphs, spectacles, (re-)organization of the state, administration/jurisdic-
tion. A second part (Iul. 45–75) deals with Julius Caesar’s forma, habitus, cultus,
mores, civilia et bellica studia, as announced at Iul 44.4. Most rubrics (e.g. spec-
tacula, crudelitas, physical appearance) feature in the majority of the biograph-
ies. However, the choice of rubrics, their exact labels, and their disposition are
adapted to the individual emperors: Nero’s biography has a rubric on positive
deeds, which is structured according to the virtues pietas, liberalitas, clementia,
and comitas (Ner. 9–10), as well as spectacula (Ner. 11–13), consulships (Ner. 14),
legal acts (Ner. 15–17), and ‘foreign politics’ (Ner. 18–19.2). It is followed by a sec-
tion on negative deeds, which is divided into probra (Ner. 20–25) and scelera
(Ner. 26–38). The probra (Ner. 20–25) include the rubrics musical activity (Ner.
20–21.2), acting (Ner. 21.2–3), chariot-driving (Ner. 22.1–3), and Nero’s journey
to Greece (Ner. 22.3–25). The scelera (Ner. 26–38) are structured according to
vices, namely petulantia (Ner. 26–27), libido (Ner. 28–29), luxuria (Ner. 30–31),
avaritia (Ner. 32), and crudelitas and saevitia (Ner. 33–38). After the narrative
section on Nero’s death Suetonius presents the rubrics on outward appearance
(Ner. 51), education (Ner. 52), desire for popularity (Ner. 53–55), and religion

10 See e.g. Ektor 1980; Wallace-Hadrill 1983; Sonnabend 2002.

11 See e.g. Lossau 1975; Cizek 1977; Bradley 1991; Lewis 1991; Barton 1994; Konstan 2009 (cf.
Konstan 2009, 455–457 for further references); Tatum 2014, 166.
12 See e.g. Baldwin 1983; Wallace-Hadrill 1983; Lewis 1991, who studies similarities between
Suetonius’ text and Cicero’s speeches.
274 chapter 9

(Ner. 56). In Domitian’s Life, the four rubrics that are positive for him con-
sist of four contexts of imperial representation, settings in which an emperor’s
image is shaped: spectacula (Dom. 4), opera (Dom. 5), expeditiones (Dom. 6),
and administration (Dom. 7–9, including the virtues clementia and abstinen-
tia). The negative aspects are later rubricized as vices: saevitia (Dom. 10–11),
cupiditas (12.1–2), and arrogantia (Dom. 12.3–13).
We can see from this brief overview of the Lives of Nero and Domitian that
topics of imperial representation overlap with rubrics to a high degree: there is
often a rubric on military actions (Iul. 57–70; Aug. 20–24; Tib. 16–20; Calig. 43–
46; Claud. 17; Dom. 6), on building endeavours (Iul. 44.1–3; Aug. 28.3–31; Calig.
21; Claud. 20; Ner. 16.1; Vesp. 8.5–9.1; Tit. 7.3; Dom. 5), and on spectacula/enter-
tainment (Iul. 39; Aug. 43–45; Calig. 18–20; Claud. 21; Ner. 11–13; Tit. 7.3; Dom.
4).13 But some topics of imperial representation can appear in other rubrics too:
Domitian’s decree concerning vine planting is mentioned among positive acts
of administration (Dom. 7.2) but also in the narrative leading up to his death
(Dom. 14.2). Aspects of representation may also be scattered, as is indeed most
often the case, through different rubrics, as well as through other text passages
dealing with, for example, the ascent to power or the circumstances of death.
While Caligula receives a rubric on his claim to be divine (Calig. 22), Nero’s rep-
resentation as god and his relationship with the gods is not dealt with under
a single rubric. Rather, we learn at different places that he wishes to perform
as a god (Ner. 53) and that he despises all cults (Ner. 56).14 Domitian’s divin-
ity is addressed when his golden and silver statues are mentioned as acts of
arrogance (Dom. 13.2). The alleged closeness of the historical Domitian to the
goddess Minerva has been turned into distance in the text: as we will study later,
shortly before his death Minerva is depicted as leaving Suetonius’ Domitian in
his dream (Dom. 14.3). Some rubrics also present material that is indirectly con-
nected with imperial representation, for example the rubrics on appearance
and health, or on sex life, which is treated under headwords such as libido or
pudicitia (Iul. 49–52; Aug. 68–71; Tib. 43–45; Calig. 23–25; 36; Claud. 33.2; Ner.
16; 28–29; Galb. 22; Oth. 2.2; 3; Vit. 12; Vesp. 21–22; Tit. 7; Dom. 22).15

13 Gellius (Gell. NA 9.7.3) mentions a work of Suetonius On games, cf. Jones 1996, 35, and
p.344–345 on Suetonius’ Pratum. On spectacula in Suetonius in general see Bradley 1981,
136, who points out that Suetonius uses spectacles to evaluate an emperor’s liberality and
responsibility towards his subjects.
14 Nero’s lack of reverence for the gods is also criticized in non-biographical discourse. See
p.86–88; 192, and the Pseudo-Senecan Octavia (89; 240–241; 912–913), cf. Cordes 2017, 130–
131.
15 Krenkel 1980 illuminates the commonplace nature of the reproaches made in these sec-
tions.
biography and eccentric representation 275

When single elements of imperial representation are mentioned in rubrics

of virtues or vices, they appear as an example of the respective virtue or vice.
We have just seen that the golden and silver statues of Domitian are used to
prove his arrogantia (Dom. 13.2). Nero’s domus aurea proves his luxuria (Ner.
31). Also, a whole rubric on imperial representation may be used to illustrate
a certain vice or virtue, for example when Augustus’ spectacula (Aug. 43–45)
form part of the bigger section on his liberalitas (Aug. 41–45).
Suetonius’ rubrics have a clear rhetorical background: both the rubrics that
consist of topics of imperial representation and the rubrics on virtues and
vices are influenced by the rhetorical concept of loci a persona. The loci a per-
sona provide a pool of topics for an orator who has to speak about a person,
and help him to find positive and negative attributes. Such lists of charac-
ter traits and personal qualities are given by the Auctor ad Herennium (Rhet.
Her. 3.6.10), by Cicero (Inv. rhet. 1.34–36), and by Quintilian (Inst. 3.7.10–25).
The Auctor ad Herennium distinguishes between external circumstances (res
externae), physical attributes (corpus), and qualities of character (animus) as
sources for how to talk about a person.16 External circumstances include des-
cent, education, wealth, kinds of power, titles to fame, citizenship, friendships
(genus, educatio, divitiae, potestates, gloriae, civitas, amicitiae), and the like, as
well as their contraries. Physical attributes are agility, strength, beauty, health
(velocitas, vires, dignitas, valetudo), and their contraries. Qualities of character,
finally, are wisdom, justice, courage, temperance (prudentia, iustitia, fortitudo,
modestia), and their contraries. Topoi like these are necessary for all character-
izations in speeches of, for example, an accused person—especially when one
has to argue that a certain person did or did not commit a certain crime (in
the status coniecturalis)—or an adversary in both juridical and political cases.
The loci a persona are also outstandingly helpful if someone is to be praised,
and so for encomiastic speeches. Thus, by drawing on rhetorical loci a persona
the genre of biography shares an important technique with encomiastic liter-
ature17 and with its opposite, invective.18

16 I am following the translation of Caplan 1954.

17 Biography and encomium are closely intertwined in classical antiquity, cf. Woodman 2014,
1 with reference to Tacitus’ Agricola (and to Cic. Att. 1.19.10), the laudatory (cf. Tac. Agr. 1.4;
46.2) biography of his father-in-law. That Suetonius draws on techniques that are also used
when writing an encomium does not imply that his biographies are to be read as encomia.
Cf. Enenkel 2003, 170, who points out that Suetonius’Life of Augustus does not share much
with an encomium.
18 Cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1983, 144 on the influence of regal and imperial panegyric. Barton 1994,
50–51 discusses the influence of and parallels with imperial panegyrics (e.g. Pliny) and
invective (e.g. Cicero’s attacks on Marc Antony and Verres, see Barton 1994, 53) and stud-
276 chapter 9

The system of various different rubrics, which is influenced by rhetorical

loci a persona and topics of imperial representation, leads to a specific form
of presenting imperial representation. It can be described by the two comple-
mentary techniques of fragmentation and re-contextualization.19 A piece of
information about imperial representation is taken out of its chronological nar-
rative context and put into a certain rubric. This technique has been criticized
as Suetonius’ Zettelkastenverfahren.20 It is thereby separated from its original
significance, and may even be left with no significance at all. Within its rubric
it is embedded into a new context, from which it receives its meaning and to
which it attributes meaning at the same time. To put it differently, the rubric
would not exist without its single elements and the single elements would read
differently in another rubric (or narrative context). This is why the same form of
imperial representation can be presented and evaluated differently: both Nero
and Domitian re-named months to make their own names more prominent
in the calendar. But this same act of imperial representation is interpreted as
typical of their specific behaviour: in Nero’s case it is listed in the rubric on his
longing for eternity and perpetual fame (Ner. 55), while in Domitian’s case it is
part of the rubric on arrogance (Dom. 12.3–13).
To study one example of fragmentation more closely, we can see that Nero’s
journey to Greece (Achaia), which combined several forms of his imperial rep-
resentation, is split up into several pieces in Suetonius. The depiction of this
journey is not included in the remaining Tacitean Annals. Cassius Dio presents
it as the climax of Nero’s representation as artist and Nero’s refusal of the
role of emperor, and uses it as an opportunity for severe criticism (62[63].8.1–
62[63].12.1).21 Suetonius mentions the journey to Greece explicitly in four dif-
ferent contexts. It features first in a positive section on Nero’s foreign politics
(Ner. 18–19.2), which lists two journeys. But at that point the only detail given
about this journey is Nero’s plan to cut a canal through the Isthmus, which he
puts into practice himself (tubaque signo dato primus rastello humum effodit
et corbulae congestam umeris extulit, “and when the trumpet gave the signal,

ies the invective character of the depiction of Nero’s cruelty in Suetonius (see Barton 1994,
55–56).
19 Wallace-Hadrill 1983, 13 speaks similarly of “dissolution” and “reconstitution”: “Suetonius’
characteristic process is analysis; the dissolution of narrative into fragments, and their
reconstitution under heads of analysis.”
20 The lack of chronological order and the decontextualization it entails are among the main
points of criticism against Suetonius advanced by historical scholars, see e.g. Flach 1972,
275–278; 285 using the term Zettelkastenverfahren, ‘filing cabinet’ method, literally refer-
ring to boxes of index cards (Zettelkasten).
21 See Schulz 2014, 409–413.
biography and eccentric representation 277

he was the first to strike the earth with his mattock and to carry off a basket-
ful on his shoulders”, Ner. 19.2). The same scene of Nero starting the work at
the Isthmus is taken up in the rubric of crudelitas (Ner. 33–38): the fact that he
did not mention the senate (dissimulata senatus mentione) while he inaugur-
ated the Isthmus project is here interpreted as hostility towards the senatorial
order (Ner. 37.3). The second explicit mentioning of the journey to Greece falls
under the rubric of Nero’s probra (Ner. 20–25), in which the journey constitutes
its own sub-rubric (Ner. 22.3–25). This part is closest to Cassius Dio’s version,
as it also shows Nero indulging in being a singer, actor, herald, and charioteer.
Third, another aspect of the journey is presented in the rubric on Nero’s crude-
litas (Ner. 33–38), which includes the murder of Agrippina. We learn here that
after the matricide and during his trip to Greece Nero did not dare to attend the
Eleusinian mysteries, from which, as a herald pronounces, criminals and the
impious are banned (Ner. 34.4). The last time this journey comes up is under
the rubric on Nero’s outward appearance: while travelling through Greece, so
Suetonius, Nero grew his hair, which was always piled up in tiers, even down to
his neck (ut comam semper in gradus formatam peregrinatione Achaica etiam
pone verticem summiserit, Ner. 51).
Suetonius was thus interested in four different aspects of Nero that were con-
nected to this trip: the Isthmus project, Nero’s representation as artist, Nero’s
fear or bad conscience after murdering his mother, and Nero’s hairstyle. These
four fragments are put into different contexts, which makes us read them in the
way determined by each rubric. The Isthmus project is to be considered a posit-
ive element of Nero’s foreign politics (Ner. 19.2), but its inauguration process is
also interpreted as a sign of Nero’s hostility towards the senate (Ner. 37.3). His
artistic representation in Greece (Ner. 22.3–25) is a kind of summary, which
takes up and brings together all the elements mentioned before, and is the
climax of his probra (Ner. 20–25). Nero’s behaviour as regards the Eleusinian
mysteries, which are here connected to the murder of Agrippina (Ner. 34.4),
makes the version of Nero killing his mother more plausible, and provides an
argument for his crudelitas (Ner. 33–38). His hairstyle is mentioned in the con-
text of other elements of his physical appearance of which he should have been
ashamed, in order to demonstrate his unacceptable appearance (Ner. 51). We
can see from this example of Nero’s trip to Greece that Suetonius’ rubric system
has a crucial influence on his way of deconstructing imperial representation.
The relationship of rubric and deconstruction will thus be at the centre of this
analysis of Suetonius.
 chapter 10

Strategies of Deconstruction in Suetonius

1 Historiographical Techniques in Imperial Biographies

1.1 Artistry and Arrogance: Historiographical Traits of Suetonius’ Nero

and Domitian
Although Suetonius does not write historiography, he shares some of the tech-
niques that are used by Tacitus and Cassius Dio to deconstruct imperial rep-
resentation, i.e. to interpret it in a negative way reacting to other, positive or
neutral interpretations. His focus of criticism about Nero and Domitian is the
same as that found in the historiographical works: Suetonius too sets emphasis
on Nero’s representation as an artist and on Domitian’s (autocratic) arrogance.1
We also find the same main differences between the two emperors that we
know from the historiographical discourse. While Nero is depicted as quix-
otic and as not understanding or not wanting to take up the role of emperor,
Domitian overdoes his interpretation of the imperial role. While Nero is cri-
ticized for following his artistic interests more and more openly, Domitian is
depicted as an isolated person and as a bad military leader. Suetonius’ text
structure, with its combination of rubrics and narrative passages, offers differ-
ent ways to present these points of criticism. This section gives an overview
of how Suetonius integrated the main historiographical points of criticism—
Nero’s artistry and Domitian’s arrogance—into his biographies.
In a rubric on public criticism of Nero, Suetonius gives examples of graffiti
that concentrate on Nero’s matricide and the death of Claudius, his represent-
ation as Apollo, the domus aurea, and his enmity to the senate (Ner. 39.2–3).
In his own work, Suetonius focuses on Nero the artist. After the divisio in Ner.
19.3, which clearly separates the neutral and positive aspects of his reign from
the negative ones, there follow two rubrics on Nero’s vices, probra (Ner. 20–25)
and scelera (Ner. 26–38). While the scelera are structured according to standard
reproaches against tyrants (petulantia, libido, luxuria, avaritia, crudelitas), the
probra section is a genuinely Neronian one. It is not divided into several vices
or different topics of imperial representation but is completely dedicated to
forms of Nero’s representation as an artist, which are arranged in a mixture of

1 For the imperial representation of Nero and Domitian in historical, panegyrical, and histori-
ographical discourse see chapter 3.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004407558_017

strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 279

chronological, spatial, and—mainly—thematic order. The section starts with

a rubric on music (Ner. 20–21.2), which shows how Nero increasingly indulges
his musical interests. The following rubric is not clearly separated from that
on music, but is loosely added to it: the dubitavit etiam an in Ner. 21.2 forms
the transition from Nero’s ambitions as a lyre-player to his performances as an
actor (Ner. 21.2–3). As the third element of Nero’s artistic interests Suetonius
presents his passion for horses and chariot-driving, which he felt from his early
youth (ab ineunte aetate, Ner. 22.1). This rubric on chariot-driving (Ner. 22.1–
3) shows a development in Suetonius’ Nero similar to that found in the rubric
on music: he turns a passive, playful enthusiasm into active performance (Ner.
22.1), and he follows his passion ever more openly and more often (Ner. 22.1–2).
These three rubrics—music, acting, chariot-driving—reappear in the depic-
tion of the journey to Greece (66 CE), which now follows (Ner. 22.3–25). More
than the three preceding sections this depiction of the journey emphasizes the
clash of Nero’s imperial role and his personal passions (Ner. 23.1): when he is
told by his freedman Helius that the affairs in Rome require his presence, he is
not willing to fulfil the role of emperor. He rather wants Helius to wish that he
come back to Rome worthy of a Nero (“… optare potius debes, ut Nerone dignus
revertar”, Ner. 23.1). Speaking of himself in the third person Suetonius’ Nero is
starting to create a type out of himself. He turns himself into a figure that he
prefers to the figure of the emperor. In the triumph that he holds after his return
from Greece, traditional military elements are replaced by artistic elements, for
example displaying his victory crowns instead of booty and the names of the
artists he defeated and the titles of his songs and dramas instead of the names
of the foes and details of the battles (Ner. 25.1–2).
The clash between Nero’s own idea of his role and the role of emperor is
emphasized again later, in the narrative passage about Nero’s final weeks and
death (Ner. 40–49).2 The passage opens with the statement that the world had
endured such a princeps for almost fourteen years, but now finally could endure
him no longer: talem principem paulo minus quattuordecim annos perpessus ter-
rarum orbis tandem destituit (Ner. 40.1). With Nero’s end stated already here
at the beginning of the death narrative, the passage concentrates completely
on Nero’s behaviour, not on the events themselves. This final passage is struc-
tured according to time and space and shows how Suetonius’ Nero becomes
altogether an artist. The possible loss of his power, we learn, would allow him
to become solely an artist and to find an excuse to play the cithara, which

2 Cf. Lounsbury 1991, 3755: “It is at the death that the theme of Nero the performer, self-
conscious, obsessed with appearance and applause, is played out to the fullest.”
280 chapter 10

was pleasing to him as an emperor, but would be necessary for him if he were
just a private citizen (principi sibi gratam, privato necessariam, Ner. 40.2). Here,
shortly before his death he again talks of himself as a type, when he laments
that his shameful life is unbecoming to a Nero (“vivo deformiter, turpius pereo. οὐ
πρέπει Νέρωνι, οὐ πρέπει …”, Ner. 49.3). In preparing and styling his own death
he has finally become an artist and solely an artist, saying repeatedly “What an
artist I am in my dying!” (“qualis artifex pereo!”, Ner. 49.1).3
Just as the typical criticism of Nero, namely his artistry, is brought together in
its own section on probra (Ner. 20–25) at a significant position in the Life, Domi-
tian’s arrogance has its own rubric too (Dom. 12.3–13). The vices of the princeps
Domitian are in three rubrics: saevitia (Dom. 10–11), cupiditas (Dom. 12.1–2),
and arrogantia (Dom. 12.3–13). While saevitia (or crudelitas) and cupiditas (or
avaritia) are standard rubrics of bad emperors (cf. Tib. 49; 57–62; Calig. 27–
35; 38–42; Claud. 34; Ner. 28–29; 33–38; Galb. 12–13), arrogantia as a rubric is
exclusive to Domitian. It is styled as the opposite of the virtue of civilitas.4 Its
position as the climax of the vices, directly before the passage on Domitian’s
death, gives it additional emphasis. The rubric includes, among other things,
the famous dominus et deus reproach, his statues on the Capitol and vaulted
passageways and arches, Domitian’s seventeen consulships, and his name Ger-
manicus and the renaming of the months September and October to German-
icus and Domitianus (Dom. 13.2–3). The examples given by Suetonius illustrate
Domitian’s intention to elevate his own autocratic position and a wish for his
presence to be felt throughout the city and the empire. Domitian’s arrogant
forms of representation do not come as a surprise to the reader. Already at
the beginning of the Life Suetonius states that Domitian showed the charac-
ter traits that became typical of him as emperor even before he was princeps:
Suetonius’ Domitian made full use of his power, so he had already demon-
strated what kind of man he would be later (Dom 1.3). This arrogance is accom-

3 I am not following Champlin 2003, 51, who argues that artifex here does not mean “artist” but
“artisan” and that “Nero is drawing attention to the contrast between the great artist he once
was and the pitiful artisan he has become”. Suetonius’ Nero is artist and still sees himself as
artist at the end of his life. Furthermore, Suetonius does not use the word artifex in the sense
of “artisan” but always with reference to someone who is accomplished in his art. These are
mostly performance arts: Iul. 84.4 (tibicines et scaenici artifices); Ner. 20.1 (generis eius artifices
on voice artists); Vesp. 18 (poetas nec non et artifices); Tit. 7.2 (artifices saltationis). Calig. 32.1
(miles decollandi artifex) cruelly refers to the art of beheading someone.
4 For a positive rubric on (clementia and) civilitas see Suet. Aug. 51–56: Augustus refuses, e.g.,
temples dedicated to himself alone (Aug. 52), and golden statues (Aug. 52), and does not like
to be addressed as dominus (Aug. 53).
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 281

panied, as it is in historiography, by his isolation.5 Domitian prefers his own

company (secretum sibi horarum sumere solebat, Dom. 3.1; solus secreto deam-
bulabat, Dom. 21).
Although Domitian’s military success is dealt with in a rubric positioned in
the part of the Life devoted to Domitian’s positive aspects (Dom. 6), there are
statements scattered throughout the biography that follow historiography in
deconstructing Domitian’s ability as a military leader.6 Domitian is character-
ized as unsuitable for war: he is lazy, cowardly, and passive during the Capit-
oline War (Dom. 1.2–3).7 He either does not participate in war (Dom. 6.2), or
shows himself to be laboris impatiens and prefers to be carried in a litter when
on the march or in battle (Dom. 19.1). He takes the wrong military actions; his
campaigns are unnecessary (Dom. 2.1). The idea of Domitian’s simulation as
a fundamental character trait that is connected to his (fake) military achieve-
ments is not fully developed in Suetonius.8 We do not find in Suetonius the
accusation that Domitian staged bogus triumphs (Tac. Agr. 39.1; Tac. Germ. 37.5;
Plin. Pan. 11.4; 16.1–3; 17.4; Cass. Dio 67.4.1; 67.7.4). But Domitian is said to have
simulated modesty and an enthusiasm for poetry before his own accession to
power (simulavit et ipse mire modestiam, in primisque poeticae studium, Dom.
2.2).9 We also learn that he fulfilled his political functions only in title (titulo
tenus, Dom. 1.3; 13.3).10
Suetonius’ Nero and Domitian are not at first sight extremely different from
Tacitus’ and Cassius Dio’s versions. But the way in which Suetonius focuses

5 On the isolation of the Suetonian Domitian see also Hulls 2014, 180–184.
6 Cf. the depiction of Caligula as an unsuitable military leader (Calig. 43–49).
7 Depictions of Domitian’s behaviour during the Capitoline War are inconsistent when we
compare Suetonius to Tacitus or even within Tacitus, cf. Jones 1996, 17. Panegyrical liter-
ature praises Domitian’s conduct during the war, cf. Jones 1996, 15 and Mart. 9.101.13–14
(adseruit possessa malis Palatia regnis, / prima suo gessit pro Iove bella puer, “he freed the
Palatine held under evil dominion, and as a boy waged his first war for his Jupiter”); Stat.
Theb. 1.21–22 (defensa prius vix pubescentibus annis / bella Iovis, “earlier yet, Jupiter’s war-
fare warded off in years scarce past childhood”); Stat. Silv. 1.1.79 (on bella Iovis); Sil. Pun.
3.609 (nec te terruerint Tarpei culminis ignis, “and the burning of the Tarpeian temple can-
not alarm you”).
8 Cf. p.334–338 on historiographical strategies that do not feature in Suetonius or that fea-
ture much less than in historiography.
9 Simulation as a character trait is more important for Suetonius’ Tiberius (Tib. 42.1; 57.1). For
a positive evaluation of Domitian’s poetic endeavours see Jones 1996, 23 and Quint. Inst.
10.1.91: Domitian’s poetry is said to have been of the highest quality, but Domitian’s care
for the world kept him from writing poetry (ab institutis studiis deflexit cura terrarum).
10 This may be read as an inversion of a panegyrical topic: the opposite assertion, namely
that people fulfil their office not only in title or on the surface, is used to praise Neronian
times in Calpurnius Siculus (Calp. Ecl. 1.69–71).
282 chapter 10

on certain eccentric aspects of imperial representation differs from histori-

ography. The system of rubrics allows for clear emphases through headwords
or labels and through the specific position of a certain rubric, which will be
dealt with in detail later.11

1.2 Marking Transgressions

In Suetonius, too, Nero’s artistry and Domitian’s arrogance can be understood
as transgressions of accepted forms of imperial representation. In historio-
graphical works both Nero and Domitian are criticized for their transgressions
of social conventions and norms, moral and erotic behaviour, limits of place
and time, and their hubris, when they assimilate themselves to the gods rather
than to humans.12 This criticism may be based on the quality or quantity of
forms of imperial representation, for example regarding the kind or amount of
honours they ask for or accept. It may be expressed explicitly or implicitly.
The evaluation of imperial representation as breaching boundaries is also
important in Suetonius, although the transgressions are in general not marked
as clearly as in historiography. In the very first biography, there is a section
on Julius Caesar’s transgressions (Iul. 76–79).13 It encompasses examples of
Caesar’s misuse of power and possible reasons for his murder (ut et abusus do-
minatione et iure caesus existimetur, Iul. 76.1), and collects instances of his licen-
tia, inpotentia, arrogantia, and the infamia affectati regii nominis.14 This section
clearly shows which elements of imperial representation Suetonius regarded
as transgressions. Some of them reappear in—or are important for—the Lives
of Nero and Domitian: excessive honours (honores nimios, Iul. 76.1), such as a
statue displayed with those of the kings (statuam inter reges, Iul. 76.1); honours
that were greater than is right for mortals (ampliora etiam humano fastigio, Iul.
76.1), such as a golden seat in the senate house, statues placed besides those of
gods, a couch such as gods have, and the renaming of a month after his name
(sedem auream in curia …, simulacra iuxta deos, pulvinar, … appellationem men-
sis e suo nomine, Iul. 76.1).15 Caesar is said to have conducted his third and
fourth consulship in name only (titulo tenus, Iul. 76.2). Such transgressions have

11 See p.303–314.
12 On the motif of transgression of imperial representation in both panegyric and histori-
ography see p.36–37.
13 For the figure of Julius Caesar triggering reflections about transgressive behaviour in Cas-
sius Dio see p.186.
14 Cf. Steidle ²1963, 57.
15 Suetonius’ Tiberius refuses to enact several of these transgressions at the beginning of his
reign (Tib. 26–32), such as setting up statues of him among statues of the gods, renaming
the months after his names (Tib. 26.1–2), and calling himself dominus (Tib. 27).
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 283

become programmatic by Suetonius’ Caligula. In the rubric about his lavish-

ness (Calig. 37) we learn that, regarding his expenses, especially for buildings,
he abandoned all reason (omni ratione posthabita, Calig. 37.2) and that his
motivation was mainly to achieve something that was said to be impossible
(nihil tam efficere concupiscebat quam quod posse effici negaretur, Calig. 37.2).
In this context, even spending money on the people is coded as absurd (Calig.
37.1), since Suetonius’ Caligula does it only to get rid of the money. Suetonius’
Nero is set into this tradition of lavishness when he is said to have admired his
uncle most for spending in so brief a period the enormous fortune that Tiberius
had left him (Ner. 30.1; cf. Calig. 37.3). Similarly to his uncle Caligula he defines
himself by his capacity to transgress existing boundaries when he states that
he is the first princeps to know what he is allowed to do (negavit quemquam
principum scisse quid sibi liceret, Ner. 37.3).16
Suetonius depicts transgressions in different contexts of imperial represent-
ation. The transgression of Julius Caesar regarding representation as divine
is typical of bad emperors, and may serve as an example of how Suetonius
marks transgressions. It is one of the main reproaches against Caligula, effect-
ively placed first in the section on him as a monster (de monstro, Calig. 22.1).
Nero is on the one hand depicted as an emulator of the gods: he is said to
have planned to emulate the achievements of Hercules, and is motivated to
do so because people say that he has already equalled Apollo in singing and
Sol in chariot-driving (Ner. 53). On the other hand, he robs the gods of their
temples’ ornaments and statues, which is depicted as the climax of his avaritia
(Ner. 32.4). Domitian’s hubris is illustrated in the rubric on his arrogance (Dom.
12.3–13). He has silver and golden statues of himself of a particular weight—a
privilege for statues of gods—set up on the Capitol (statuas sibi in Capitolio non
nisi aureas et argenteas poni permisit ac ponderis certi, Dom. 13.2).17 When he
takes back his wife after the divorce he calls her back to his divine couch (revoc-
atam eam in pulvinar suum, Dom. 13.1). The best known reproach regarding
divine forms of imperial representation is that Domitian accepted the desig-
nation, both in written and spoken form, of dominus et deus (Dom. 13.2).18 In
the amphitheatre, he and Domitia are called dominus and domina (Dom 13.1).19

16 Cf. Nero on his power in the Octavia: Fortuna nostra cuncta permittit mihi (“my good for-
tune gives me licence to do anything”, 451); inertis est nescire quid liceat sibi (“it is indolent
not to understand what one can do”, 453).
17 Cf. Aug. 52 (with Augustus being against golden statues).
18 Cf. the corresponding refusal of Augustus (Aug. 53) and Tiberius (Tib. 27). Without the
combination with deus, the term dominus (master) is more innocent. Suetonius, for
example, has a rubric on Augustus’ conduct as patronus dominusque (Aug. 67).
19 On the term dominus in panegyrical discourse see Cordes 2017, 223–231.
284 chapter 10

In accordance with his superior attitude and behaviour as master or even god
of his people, Suetonius’ Domitian constructs clear boundaries, especially in
communication: already in his youth he is so impolite (ab iuventa minime civilis
animi) as to reject the kiss of his father’s concubine (Dom. 12.3); instead of
communicating with his people when they voice a wish during the Capitoline
competition, he orders them to be silent (Dom. 13.1). Domitian’s communica-
tion appears very unbalanced and one-sided, and controlled by his power and
hubristic self-image. When Suetonius states that Domitian distanced himself
from his literary interests when he became emperor, this reads as though Domi-
tian had retracted a transgression that he was no longer allowed as emperor
(Dom. 2.2). However, Suetonius codes this potentially positive action in a neg-
ative way, by claiming that Domitian had only feigned his interest (Dom. 2.2).
Transgressions are sometimes made explicit by the narrator. Nero’s luxuria is
described as knowing no limit: nec largiendi nec absumendi modum tenuit (Ner.
30.2). The domus aurea, which also figures in the luxuria rubric, is described as
massive in all its dimensions (Ner. 31.1–2).20 Its lake resembles a sea surroun-
ded by buildings which are like whole cities. Nero considers only this enormous
palace as adequate when he says that he can now finally start to live like a
human: ut se diceret quasi hominem tandem habitare coepisse (Ner. 31.2). In the
rubric on Nero’s cruelty we learn that he shows no restraint in killing people
after the Pisonian conspiracy and the conspiracy of Vinicianus, no modus inter-
imendi (Ner. 37.1). During his journey in Greece Nero breaches several bound-
aries with regard to the artistic competitions. He not only changes their dates
in order to make them fit into one year, he even changes the content by adding
a musical competition to the Olympic games (Ner. 23.1). The latter action is
explicitly termed as praeter consuetudinem, as against all precedent (Ner. 23.1).
The narrator also has figures within the stories point out the imperial trans-
gressions, for example in the context of Nero’s artistry and in the context of
Domitian’s buildings. Singing in tragedies, Nero breaches certain boundaries of
his imperial role. Wearing the masks of heroes and gods, or even heroines and
goddesses, he sings, for example, as Canace giving birth, Orestes the matricide,
Oedipus blinded, and Hercules insane (Ner. 21.3). Nero’s masks are, accord-
ing to Suetonius, similar to his own facial traits and to those of the woman
he was in love with at the time (personis effectis ad similitudinem oris sui et
feminae prout quamque diligeret, Ner. 21.3). He is thus breaching the bound-
aries of theatre and reality by merging the two.21 In an anecdote reported by

20 Size is a positive feature of Nero’s and Domitian’s imperial buildings in panegyrical dis-
course, see Cordes 2017, 59–101.
21 Cf. Bartsch 1994, 47 on this passage in Suetonius: “The implication of these comments is
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 285

Suetonius ( fama est) the boundary-breaking is made explicit by a recent recruit

who tries to set the emperor free when he sees him laden and bound with
chains, as the scene—in the Hercules Insanus—demands (Ner. 21.3).22 Sueto-
nius uses the story, even if it is completely invented, to code Nero’s perform-
ances as breaking the boundaries that an emperor should keep, and which are
still the boundaries assumed by a simple soldier, who reacts to what is hap-
pening on stage as though it were reality.23 While in this story the soldier’s
behaviour illustrates a transgression, someone in the narrative about Domitian
demands a limit upon him and his building endeavours (Dom. 13.2). Generally,
tyrannical building endeavours are often connected to the idea of excess or
immoderateness, as we have already seen in the passage on Caligula’s irrational
lavishness (Calig. 37.2–3). Tyrants cross social and natural boundaries when
forming public space. Suetonius gives a positive counter-example when dis-
cussing Augustus’ continentia (Aug. 72–73).24 By contrast, Domitian’s passage-
ways and arches are presented as arrogant because of their size, their number,
and their distribution throughout the whole city. This exceeding and crossing
of spatial boundaries is explicitly marked by someone who writes the word
“APKI” (i.e. the Greek arkei), “it is enough”, on one of them: ianos arcusque
cum quadrigis et insignibus triumphorum per regiones urbis tantos ac tot extruxit
ut cuidam Graece inscriptum sit APKI (Dom. 13.2). Domitian’s own images are
mentioned again later, when Suetonius discusses the reactions to Domitian’s
death and tells of senators tearing down his shields and images (Dom. 23).25
Here again, figures in the narrative realize the transgression and try to oppose it.
Suetonius’ Nero and Domitian are both also depicted as using innovations,
which can be considered as transgressions of established forms of imperial

that Nero, who was already seen as reproducing his life on the stage, did so at an inescap-
ably visual level as well and almost inflicted the equation of his persona with his tragic
roles upon the audiences at these plays.”
22 The same anecdote is briefly mentioned by Cassius Dio, 62(63).10.2, see p.231–232.
23 Bartsch 1994 has accordingly analysed the transgression here as a reciprocal transgres-
sion or confusion of reality and theatre, cf. Bartsch 1994, 49: “Suetonius’ interest in this
incident seems rather to stem from the recruit’s reaction to the spectacle precisely as the
mark of an inability to remain wholly within one of two possible interpretative frames,
the reality-frame or the theater-frame. Instead, the man’s understanding of what is tran-
spiring onstage merges the two categories of representation and reality, as indeed Nero’s
mask itself does.”
24 Suetonius describes Augustus’ palace as small, modest, and without any luxury, naming
some things that it lacked, such as marble decoration (Aug. 72.1).
25 On the mutilation and destrution of the historical Domitian’s portraits and the removal
of his images see Varner 2004, 112–115; 125–134.
286 chapter 10

behaviour, in a negative way.26 The emperor’s behaviour is not often marked

explicitly as innovation, but there are two stories that explicitly mark sexual
transgressions as innovative: after Nero had polluted almost every part of his
body, he finally invented a new kind of game (novissime quasi genus lusus exco-
gitaret, Ner. 29). In this game he disguised himself as an animal and attacked
the private parts of men and women who had been tied to stakes (Ner. 29).
Innovation here becomes a means to achieve complete impudicitia. Domitian
uses innovation as a means of saevitia. He makes use of a new form of inter-
rogation (novo quaestionis genere) that consists in a new kind of torture: fire is
inserted onto the victims’ genitals (immisso per obscaena igne) (Dom. 10.5).
As in historiography, some of the emperor’s transgressions are not his own
responsibility only. He is also offered certain honours by the senate or the
people, which he either declines or accepts. His reaction is then used to eval-
uate his behaviour. In Suetonius, Nero’s reaction to honours is either neutral
or even positive.27 On the first day of his principate the young Nero receives
boundless honours. He refuses only the title “Father of the Fatherland” because
of his age: ex immensis quibus cumulabatur honoribus tantum patris patriae
nomine recusato propter aetatem (Ner. 8). He wants to accept the senate’s votes
of thanks only after he has deserved them (cum meruero, Ner. 10.2). However,
we have just heard that his wish to equal Hercules is inspired by people who
think that he already equals Apollo and Sol (Ner. 53).28 These people are here
made responsible for Nero’s hubris indirectly—the sentence is in the passive
voice ([Nero] existimaretur, Ner. 53). Suetonius’ Domitian is passionate about
new and unprecedented honours; he refuses one of them offered to him by the
senate, namely that whenever he held the consulship Roman knights, chosen
by lot, should precede him wearing the trabea and with lances, along with his
lictors and attendants (Dom. 13.3). But he does so only because of his fear (Dom.
13.3), which frames the potentially positive refusal of this honour negatively.

1.3 Strategies of Negative Coding

We have seen that some of Suetonius’ emperors make transgressions a part of
their self-image. Suetonius depicts these transgressions in different contexts,

26 The technique is, again, not confined to the depiction of Nero and Domitian. Caligula’s
new taxes, the innovation of which is underlined by two adjectives (vectigalia nova atque
inaudita, Calig. 40.1), are connected to his need for money caused by his luxury (cf. exhaus-
tus, Calig. 38.1).
27 Cf. also Tib. 9.2 (where Suetonius is neutral regarding an innovative honour); Tib. 26.1
(where Tiberius is applauded for accepting only a few and moderate honours).
28 For passages in panegyrical discourse that associate Nero with Apollo see e.g. Sen. Apocol.
4.1.22–23; Calp. Ecl. 7.83–84.
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 287

makes them explicit himself, or has figures in the text notice them. He also
uses innovations of emperors and their reactions to honours offered to them to
bring out their transgressions. In addition to marking transgressions Suetonius
uses historiographical strategies to code an element of imperial representa-
tion negatively. In the previous section we have already studied instances of
behaviour that is characterized as hubristic and transgressive. Three other tech-
niques will be discussed next which are also applied in the historiographical
discourse and which are used to increase the plausibility of the account given:
the attribution of single negative qualities to an emperor’s conduct (i.e. as
being crazy, unmanly and foreign, not funny, and too expensive); the present-
ation of his reasons and his motivation as inappropriate; and the ascription
of antisocialness to his behaviour. The following brief analysis is based on the
strategies of deconstruction used by Tacitus and Cassius Dio.29 For Suetonius
they function not as sources but as background foils, as strategies that were
theoretically possible. Thereafter, we will discuss historiographical strategies
of deconstruction that we have analysed in Tacitus and Cassius Dio that are
not fully developed in Suetonius.30

1.3.1 Negative Connotations: Mad, Unmanly and Foreign, Not Funny,

and Too Expensive
The reproach that deconstructs an emperor’s behaviour and actions in the
broadest sense is to claim that he was crazy. Everything he does is then con-
sidered to be the product of a sick mind. Suetonius reproaches Caligula em-
phatically with mental illness. In the rubric on his health (Calig. 50.2–3) he
attests the instability of both his physical and mental health: valitudo ei neque
corporis neque animi constitit (Calig. 50.2). According to Suetonius, Caligula
himself realized the poor state of his mental health (mentis valitudinem et ipse
senserat, Calig. 50.2), which he explained as an illness of his brain that had to
be cured (deque purgando cerebro cogitavit, Calig. 50.2). His behaviour is expli-
citly evaluated as mad (in furorem verterit, Calig. 50.2), being perhaps the result
of a love potion given to him by his wife, which was meant as medicine. The
following rubric on Caligula’s confidentia and metus (Calig. 51) explains these
two contradictory character traits conveniently by his mental illness just noted
(non inmerito mentis valitudini attribuerim diversissima in eodem vitia, Calig.
51.1).31 No other Life makes such an explicit link between mental illness, which

29 For these strategies in Tacitus and Cassius Dio see chapter 4 and 7.
30 On p.334–338.
31 Caligula’s mental illness makes the section Calig. 50–52, which is otherwise parallel to Iul.
45–47, very individual. Cf. Steidle ²1963, 85: “Im übrigen entspricht die Reihenfolge ‚äußere
288 chapter 10

is even explained physiologically, and imperial behaviour. Suetonius’ Claudius,

however, when he hears and decides cases, sometimes resembles someone who
is insane (amentique similis, Claud. 15.1). Suetonius’ Nero picks up on a tradi-
tion that considered Claudius mad, when he treats his decisions as though they
were taken by a mad person (ut insipientis atque deliri, Ner. 33.1). Nero himself is
not depicted as mad, but rage at least, furor, manifests itself in his expenditures
(ad hunc impendiorum furorem, Ner. 31.4). Domitian is not directly reproached
with madness either. As in historiography, the reproach of madness is made
against bad emperors—more than in Tacitus, less than in Cassius Dio32—but
it is not the predominant one.
Among the techniques that attribute negative connotations to imperial rep-
resentation, the ascription of unmanliness and foreignness stands out. Before
Nero, both Julius Caesar and Caligula are reproached for unmanliness. Julius
Caesar has to hear the insult that he is a woman several times (Iul. 22.2;
49.2; 52.3). Caligula dresses up in female style, or as a god (Calig. 52). Domi-
tian is accused of being a passive homosexual—which was considered highly
unmanly—as a young boy, driven by the poverty of his youth (Dom. 1.1). It
was indeed the official (though incorrect) Flavian version that the Flavians had
lived in poverty under the Julio-Claudians.33 Suetonius follows this, but turns it
against Domitian. By claiming that poverty made Domitian prostitute himself
he re-codes this poverty as a negative element of Domitian’s biography, but not
that of Vespasian or Titus. This poverty is later used again to explain Domitian’s
greed (Dom. 3.2; cf. 12.1–2).
The reproach of unmanliness and foreignness is directed with more em-
phasis against Nero and takes two main forms: Nero’s artistry is characterized
as something both foreign and unmanly; and Nero is shown as not accepting
the boundaries of gender. Nero’s desire to sing is clearly associated with for-
eignness, primarily with Greekness: the proverb by which he legitimizes his
performances (“hidden music has no admirers”) is Greek (Graecum proverbium
iactans occultae musicae nullum esse respectum, Ner. 20.1). His first perform-
ance takes place in Naples (Ner. 20.2), a Greek city. There Nero speaks Greek
when he promises to sing after a drink (aliquid se suffritinniturum Graeco ser-
mone promisit, Ner. 20.2). His performances are accompanied by Alexandrians,
remarkable for their (un-Roman) anointed hair, their exquisite appearance,

Erscheinung, Gesundheit, Kleidung‘ in Cal. 50–52 genau Caes. 45–47, ist aber im einzelnen
völlig individuell gestaltet, vor allem dadurch, daß confidentia und metus im Zusammen-
hang mit der geistigen Erkrankung dargestellt werden.”
32 See, e.g., Cass. Dio 62(63).14.2 for Nero and 67.4.3–4 for Domitian, cf. p.197.
33 Cf. Jones 1996, 12–13.
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 289

and their rhythmic applause (Ner. 20.3). When Suetonius states next that Nero
wanted to sing (not only in Naples but) even in Rome (etiam Romae, Ner. 21.1)
he points out the un-Romanness of Nero’s activity as singer once more. Rome
should not have a singing emperor. And the true home of his artistic endeav-
ours remains Greece, as Nero’s journey to Greece (Ner. 22.3–24.2) clearly illu-
minates. Greece is, again, marked as a place different from Rome (Romae …,
Achaiam …, Ner. 22.3). Nero’s desire to travel there to perform is motivated
by Greek cities which organized musical competitions and which had awar-
ded and sent him all the victory crowns for singing to the cithara (Ner. 22.3).
Suetonius’ Nero not only invites to dinner the messengers who brought these
prizes, but also sings for them at their request and claims that only the Greeks
know how to listen and that only they are worthy of him and his art: solos scire
audire Graecos solosque se et studiis suis dignos ait (Ner. 22.3). His eagerness
finally to get to Greece and sing there is underlined by claiming that he did not
delay his departure (nec profectione dilata)34 and that he immediately (statim)
started to sing as soon as he reached Cassiope in Greece (Ner. 22.3). In the rub-
ric on Nero’s bodily features (Ner. 51) Suetonius includes Nero’s hairstyle during
this journey in Greece: his above-mentioned curled, long hair assimilates his
appearance to Apollo Citharoedus.35
When Nero sings in tragedies wearing the masks of heroes and gods both
male and female (Ner. 21.3), he transgresses the boundaries of gender. But Nero-
nian femininity is not confined to his artistry. His clothing style, when he wears
an unbelted tunic (Ner. 51), is also unmanly.36 This breaking of gender (and
even sex) boundaries is shown most distinctly in the libido rubric: Nero turns
the boy Sporus into a woman and dresses and treats him like an empress (Ner.
28.1–2). The Sporus episode corresponds to the Doryphorus episode, which is
also part of the libido-section (Ner. 29).37 Nero acts as a bride for Doryphorus,
just as Sporus had been the bride for him (sicut ipsi Sporus, Ner. 29). In both
‘marriages’ Nero has the manly bride—Sporus in the first, himself in the second
episode—transgress sexual and gender boundaries.

34 This historical inaccuracy (Nero’s journey cannot have been spontaneous, see Kierdorf
1992, 189) is a literary feature designed to highlight Nero’s impatience.
35 Cf. Kierdorf 1992, 231. See also Bradley 1978, 284–285 for Suetonius’ inaccuracy concerning
Nero’s hairstyle.
36 For this tunic as a “highly coloured robe worn at dinner at the Saturnalia” see Warmington
1977, 115.
37 In Suetonius, the name “Doryphorus” must be a mistake for “Pythagoras”, see Champlin
2003, 161.
290 chapter 10

In the case of Sporus it has been argued that Nero’s behaviour was meant
as a joke.38 Nero may have thought it hilarious to unman a boy and call him
“semen”. That he presents him around the Sigillaria, where the Saturnalia, a
festival involving transvestism, take place, may be read as supporting this inter-
pretation. If this was really meant as a joke it was certainly a cruel one. But
the fact that Suetonius does include it in the rubric of libido (and not a pos-
sible rubric on humour, cf. Vesp. 22–23), opposes a reading of this episode as
funny. Similarly, Domitian’s statement that he called his wife back to his divine
couch (in pulvinar suum, Dom. 13.1) might well have been understood as a
joke.39 But integrating it into the rubric of arrogantia prevents such a positive
reading. If we follow these lines of thought, Suetonius indirectly deconstructs
possibly humorous actions as not funny. He does so directly when he states that
Nero’s nocturnal adventures may have been for his own amusement—funny for
him—but were a disaster for others (vicos vagabatur ludibundus nec sine per-
nicie tamen, Ner. 26.1). With his vices growing stronger, Suetonius’ Nero gives
up jokes and disguises (iocularia et latebras omisit) and moves on to greater
misdeeds (Ner. 27.1).
In addition to the characterization of certain elements of imperial repres-
entation as unmanly and foreign as well as not funny, Suetonius depicts several
aspects as too expensive, often in the rubric of luxuria. In the narrative, Nero’s
high expenses are linked to his greed, closely connecting the rubrics of luxuria
and avaritia. Nero’s expenses (Ner. 30–31) drive him to robbery (Ner. 32.1), just
as Caligula’s sumptus (Calig. 37) had turned him ad rapinas (Calig. 38.1), and as
Domitian’s debts incite his cupiditas (Dom. 12.1–2). In Suetonius, the claim that
an emperor’s action or behaviour has been too expensive often turns a form of
representation that had been mentioned positively before into an ambivalent
form of representation.40

1.3.2 Imperial Reasons

Like the historiographical narrators, Suetonius mentions and evaluates sev-
eral reasons, for example on Augustus’ motives for choosing Tiberius as a suc-
cessor (Tib. 21.2–7), or Tiberius’ retiring to Rhodes (Tib. 10.1–2). He presents
himself as a thorough analyst of imperial reasons and constructs imperial reas-
ons similarly to the historiographers. An emperor’s actions are made plausible

38 I am picking up an idea of Champlin 2003, 149–150, who mentions the name Sporus and
the location of the Sigillaria as part of the cruel joke. For the story in Cassius Dio, who also
opposes a humorous reading, see p.195–196.
39 Cf. Jones 1996, 107.
40 See the examples discussed on p.331–332.
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 291

by things he said (Ner. 38.1), or by temporal connections that invite us to see

causal relations between two actions. So when Nero is said to have married
Poppaea twelve days after the divorce from Octavia, the explicit mentioning
of the short period of twelve days suggests that Nero indeed divorced Octavia
because he already wanted and planned to marry Poppaea, whom he, as the
sentence continues, loved extraordinarily: Poppaeam duodecimo die post divor-
tium Octaviae in matrimonium acceptam dilexit unice (Ner. 35.3). The need for
money often serves as a motivation for bad actions. As just mentioned, Nero’s
luxuria is presented as the reason for his avaritia (Ner. 32.1). Similarly the
alleged reason Suetonius gives for Domitian’s cupiditas is that he had exhausted
his funds (exhaustus operum ac munerum inpensis stipendioque quod adiecerat,
Dom. 12.1). From a historical viewpoint, this is not true.41 However, in the text,
it serves as an explanation for Domitian’s rapacious behaviour and so makes
his actions appear more plausible. When Suetonius claims, for example, that
Domitian had Epaphroditus killed because people thought that he had helped
Nero with his suicide (Dom. 14.4), the reason constructed by the narrator asso-
ciates Domitian with his predecessor, from whom he tried to distance him-
self.
In the deconstruction of imperial reasons by the narrator we find three
strategies similar to those in historiography:
(1) Suetonius simply claims that the official reasons were wrong. Often this is
done by adding the adverb quasi to the official reason: Nero killed Antonia on
the false ground that she was planning a plot (quasi molitricem novarum rerum
interemit, Ner. 35.4), the real reason being, so Suetonius, that she did not want
to marry him after the death of Poppaea (Ner. 35.4). The same official reason,
a plot, is unmasked as false—without presenting an allegedly true reason—in
the case of Salvidienus Orfitus and Acilius Glabrio, whom Suetonius’ Domitian
sends into exile quasi molitores rerum novarum (Dom. 10.2). Domitian takes
back his wife after he had left her, because he could not stand to be alone, so
Suetonius. The official reason—that the people urged him to take her back—
is, again, marked as wrong by the adverb quasi (quasi efflagitante populo, Dom.
3.1). It complements this strategy that official reasons that do not suit Suetonius’
depiction of an emperor may simply be left out. Domitian is depicted as taking
Domitia Longina away from her husband in order to have her as his own wife
(Dom. 2.1). This serves as an example of Domitian’s misuse of power already in

41 See the arguments in Jones 1996, 100–101 with the conclusion: “Suetonius’ exhaustus is a
myth.” (Jones 1996, 101). See also Charles 2002, 24–25, with further references, on Domiti-
an’s alleged financial problems as historically wrong.
292 chapter 10

the time before his own principate. Suetonius does not mention, however, that
Domitia was the daughter of Corbulo, the famous general and victim of Nero,
and that Domitian’s marrying her created an ostensible distance from Nero,
which was in line with Flavian propaganda.42
(2) Suetonius makes reasons for imperial behaviour seem inappropriate, tri-
fling, and trivial, mostly by presenting them only briefly or as fragments of
more elaborate reasons. For at least some reasons mentioned we can assume
that they seem so trivial precisely because they are presented as fragments.
Suetonius does so especially in the rubrics on saevitia and crudelitas, when
he gives reasons for punishments that Caligula, Nero, and Domitian carried
out.43 Thus, Suetonius’ Nero has his stepson, the young son of Poppaea, killed
because he played “General and Emperor” (Ner. 35.5). Suetonius’ Domitian has
a pupil of the actor Paris killed, although he is still a boy and very ill, because
he resembles his teacher in his art and his looks (quod arte formaque non
absimilis magistro videbatur, Dom. 10.1). An author called Hermogenes of Tarsus
is killed because of some allusions in his “History”, and the punishment is exten-
ded to his slave copyists (propter quasdam in historia figuras, Dom. 10.1).44 A
man who said in the arena that a Thracian might be a match for the murmillo
but would not measure up to the gamesgiver, thereby accusing Domitian of
being partial and against the Thracian gladiators was dragged from his seat
and thrown to dogs in the arena, wearing a tag that said that he was a friend
of the Thracians who had spoken disrespectfully of the emperor (Dom. 10.1).
The alleged irrelevance of a reason can also be stated directly. Before Suetonius
lists Domitian’s reasons for killing senators he explicitly characterizes them as
extremely trifling (levissima … de causa, Dom. 10.2).45 He thus determines how
the reader interprets the reasons and forestalls any way of taking them seri-
ously.
(3) Suetonius makes an emperor’s reasons appear as only personally and not
politically motivated. When receiving messengers Nero clearly prefers the ones
from Greece who hand over victory crowns as awards for the cithara competi-
tion to him (Ner. 22.3). The messengers are even welcomed to his private dinner

42 Cf. Jones 1996, 18.

43 For the empty reasons given for Domitian’s behaviour in the saevitia-rubric (Dom. 10–11)
see Schulz 2018, 312–315.
44 This provides a sharp contrast with Vespasian’s clement reaction to allusions by lawyers
(causidicorum figuras, Vesp. 13).
45 For the historical background see Jones 1979, 86: “only a very small percentage of his 600
senators are known to have been executed, and for reasons that were no doubt more con-
vincing than Suetonius’ incredible suggestions”.
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 293

parties. Suetonius’ Nero uses his power as emperor to achieve his artistic suc-
cesses (esp. Ner. 23.2–24.2). His reason for killing the actor Paris in Suetonius is
his wish to get rid of a rival.46 This murder is included in the rubric on Nero’s
wish for popularitas and eternal fame (Ner. 54). It is telling for this technique
of ‘personalizing’ imperial reasons that Cassius Dio also gives a very personal
reason for Nero’s behaviour, but quite a different one: in Cassius Dio Nero’s
reason for killing Paris is that he wanted to learn dancing from Paris but did
not have the capacity to do so (62[63].18.1).47 For this strategy of deconstruc-
tion it is not important what exactly the reason was, but to show that it was
a personal one, unconnected to the role of emperor. Similarly, Domitian’s mil-
itary representation is deconstructed when Suetonius states at the beginning
of the biography that Domitian was mainly motivated by his desire to equal
Titus and not by the necessity of military endeavours (expeditionem quoque
in Galliam Germaniasque neque necessariam et dissuadentibus paternis amicis
incohavit, tantum ut fratri se et opibus et dignatione adaequaret, “he embarked
upon a campaign in Gaul and the German provinces, although it was unne-
cessary and his father’s friends advised against it, merely to be equal with his
brother in wealth and status”, Dom. 2.1).

1.3.3 Antisocialness
Several examples of imperial representation that are deconstructed in Sueto-
nius have already shown that in biography too the behaviour of Nero and Domi-
tian runs counter to the paradigms of Roman social life. I would like to highlight
four aspects of imperial antisocialness in Suetonius that he shares with the
historiographers. First, Nero’s and Domitian’s transgressions of social bound-
aries are diametrically different from each other. While Nero cannot stand to
be alone and needs people and an audience by his side (impatiens secreti, Ner.
20.2), Domitian is, as mentioned above, depicted as preferring social isolation
(Dom. 3.1; 21). Without making it explicit, Suetonius here criticizes extreme
social conduct of either kind. Second, imperial behaviour is directed against the
emperor’s subjects and not in support of them. When Suetonius’ Nero assigns
offices to people, he advises them to achieve the result that no one own any-
thing anymore (nulli delegavit officium ut non adiceret, … “hoc agamus, ne quis
quicquam habeat”, Ner. 32.4). When he sings while Rome burns he is wearing his
well-known stage attire. His aesthetic preferences for the flames imply insens-

46 We find the same motif in Ps.-Lucian Nero 10, where Nero is said to have had the vocal
chords of a tragic actor whom he envied cut out.
47 See p.217.
294 chapter 10

itivity towards the suffering of the people: laetusque “flammae”, ut aiebat, “pul-
chritudine” Halosin Ilii in illo suo scaenico habitu decantavit (“delighted with,
as he said, ‘the beauty of the flames’ and, dressed in his stage attire, he sang
of ‘the Fall of Troy’”, Ner. 38.2). Third, antisocialness is connected to innova-
tions and new forms of behaviour. As in the examples of transgressive innov-
ation mentioned above, innovative antisocialness can effectively be linked to
sexual reproaches, for example when Tiberius is said to have installed the new
office a voluptatibus (Tib. 42.2). Nero’s own libido leads to a new acceptance
and new system of norms, when he forgives people’s faults if they confess their
sexual misdeeds, because he strongly believes that no one is truly chaste and
that many were only concealing their vices (Ner. 29). Fourth, a new system of
social norms can be depicted as the inversion of the old, accepted one. Thus,
during his banquets Suetonius’ Nero has respectable Roman women imitate
tavern women (Ner. 27.3). By praising Caligula most for his lavishness (Ner.
30.1), Suetonius’ Nero implicitly turns something into a virtue that should be
regarded as a vice.

1.4 Off the Rubric: Nero’s and Domitian’s Death Narratives and the
Function of Space
Like the historiographers, Suetonius shows an interest in death scenes. Death
scenes in general are used to illuminate the character of the person dying.48
Suetonius similarly treats the death of figures such as Britannicus or Agrippina,
but especially of the emperors themselves.49 Such death scenes of emperors
in Suetonius are part of consecutive sections of narrative that come closer to
the structure of historiographical works than the rubrics that present certain
virtues and vices. They do not focus only on the moment of death itself, but
include the days before death and the events leading up to it. This explains the
length of these passages: Nero’s death narrative takes up around one fifth of
the whole biography (Ner. 40–49), Domitian’s one seventh of the whole Life

48 This is also a Tacitean or Roman historiographical technique, cf. Bérard 2007, 246; see
also Garson 1974, 27–28 on (communal and) individual death scenes in Tacitus: “Tacitus is
always scrupulous to make the manner of death harmonise with traits of character already
depicted.”
49 Suetonius’ Vespasian, for example, pronounces that an emperor has to die standing,
shortly before he himself dies trying to stand up (Vesp. 24). For Suetonius’ death scenes
bringing out the character of the dying person see Lounsbury 1987, 64: “So we find the
importance of a man’s demeanor in his last moments as a test of his character”. See Steidle
²1963, 92 on Suetonius’ Nero (and Domitian): “so gibt ähnlich wie etwa bei Domitian gerade

die Darstellung des Lebensendes wichtige Einblicke in das Wesen des Kaisers”.
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 295

(Dom. 14–17.2). Especially Suetonius’ depiction of Nero’s last hours has had sev-
eral interpreters and has met high approval in scholarship.50
Suetonius designs these pieces of continuous narrative as textual entities
with specific literary features, in Nero’s and Domitian’s case even more than for
Julius Caesar (Iul. 80–83) and Caligula (Calig. 56–60), whose deaths are struc-
turally comparable.51 That a new section begins with the death narrative is easy
to recognize in both Nero’s and Domitian’s Life: the beginning is marked in both
cases by a statement that refers to everything that was said before under the
rubrics. Suetonius states that the world at last cast off Nero after enduring him,
a princeps of this sort (talem principem), for almost fourteen years (Ner. 40.1).
The pronominal adjective talis refers not only to what was said directly before
but also to everything mentioned so far. Likewise, the death narrative of Domi-
tian begins by stating that Domitian was per haec terribilis cunctis et invisus
(Dom. 14.1), by this behaviour feared and hated by everyone, with the deictic
pronoun haec denoting his negative behaviour and actions as depicted so far
in the Life.52 In addition to these distinctly marked beginnings, both death nar-
ratives have a clear end. They are both followed by a notice on the funeral (Ner.
50; Dom. 17.3) and a rubric on the emperors’ outward appearance (and health)

50 Cf. Timonen 2000, 237 with further references and Townend 1967, 93; 96, who calls the
section Ner. 47.3–49.1 “perhaps the most successful piece of continuous narrative in
the Caesars” and Suetonius’ “finest consecutive section of narrative”. Cf. Frings 1985, 279
(“Abschnitt von besonderer Erzählkunst”). The passage has been analysed from different
perspectives: Townend 1967 in his analysis focuses on the depiction as regards vividness
and details. He points out “the economy and speed of the Latin” (Townend 1967, 94) and
“the mastery of compression and concentration which makes the passage permanently
readable and permanently vivid” (Townend 1967, 96). Frings 1985 analyses the same pas-
sage with an eye to the motifs of loneliness and reversal, esp. reversal of the exitus virorum
clarissimorum literature (for which see also Lounsbury 1987, 65). Lounsbury 1987, 71–79
discusses Nero’s death in Suetonius as compared to Agrippina’s death in Tacitus. He dis-
tinguishes two modes in which the two authors achieve their effects (Lounsbury 1987,
76): Suetonius’ mode is “sensational”, he devotes his attention to the details of a certain
situation; Tacitus’ mode is “intuitive”, he neglects details and focuses on the psychological
essence of a certain situation. Cf. Lounsbury 1991, 3755–3756 with a focus on Nero the artist
during the death scene. Sansone 1993 argues for a fictitious source, namely the myth of Er
in Plato’s Republic, with Nero resembling the tyrannical Ardiaeus.
51 Pausch 2004, 332 rightly suggests that Suetonius invited his readers to compare the dif-
ferent death scenes of his emperors. On Vitellius’ death scene as a narrative piece in
Suetonius see Pausch 2004, 301–317.
52 Cf. Calig. 56.1 (ita bacchantem atque grassantem non defuit plerisque animus adoriri, “while
he was running riot and laying waste in this way, most people had the idea to assault him”)
where the adverb ita fulfils the same function at the beginning of Caligula’s death narrat-
ive as talis (Ner. 40.1) and haec (Dom. 14.1).
296 chapter 10

(Ner. 51; Dom. 18). Both passages exhibit an interest in the typical narrative ele-
ment of time and pace, they state the time (Ner. 47.1; 47.3; Dom. 16.1) or refer
to dynamic developments of time (tempore … appropinquante, Dom. 14.4; mat-
uravit sibi exitium, Dom. 15.1), and depict the very day of death in detail (Ner.
47.3–49.4; Dom. 16.1–17.2).
The death narratives pick up and recombine motifs of imperial representa-
tion and behaviour, which have been developed in the rubric sections before
and are part of the process of deconstruction. In the narrative of Nero’s last
days and his death several of these motifs reappear, namely his luxus (Ner.
42.2; cf. 30–31), his crudelitas (e.g. Ner. 43.1; cf. 33–38) and avaritia (e.g. Ner. 45.1;
cf. 32), as well as the figures Spiculus (Ner. 47.3; cf. 30.2) and Sporus (Ner. 46.2;
48.1; 49.3; cf. 28–29),53 and Nero’s overall inactivity regarding political issues.54
The clash between his role as emperor and his self-image as artist is pointed out
more clearly than would be possible within a rubric: there are several instances
that illuminate Nero’s inappropriate artistic reactions to political challenges
(Ner. 40.2; 41.1; 41.2; 43.2; 44.1; 45.1). Domitian’s death narrative picks up his fear
as the driving force of his actions (Dom. 14.2; cf. 3.2); his edict on the vineyards
(Dom. 14.2; cf. 7.2); and his cruelty (Dom. 15.1; 15.3; cf. 10–11). With the focus in
the death narratives being on the behaviour and feelings of the emperors, their
main function is to bring out their personalities: Nero’s quixotic artistry and
Domitian’s fear. The differences between Suetonius’ Nero and Domitian, the
extroverted wish for popularity of the first and the preference for isolation of
the latter, is already implicit in the two opening sentences of these passages just
mentioned. Looking at them once again, we can see that the precise formula-
tion is telling: Suetonius’ Nero is cast off by the whole earth, while Suetonius’
Domitian is brought down by a plot by members of his own close entourage
(talem principem … terrarum orbis tandem destituit, Ner. 40.1; conspiratione ami-
corum libertorumque intimorum simul et uxoris, Dom. 14.1).
This difference between the two emperors is mirrored in the symbolic func-
tion of space in their death narratives.55 Suetonius’ Domitian knows, we learn,
about the circumstances of his death. In his youth Chaldaean astrologers had

53 For these passages on Sporus see also Lounsbury 1991, who uses the figure of Sporus in
Suetonius’ Nero to analyse Suetonius’ methods of composition.
54 On Nero’s inactivity cf. Steidle ²1963, 92–93.
55 The subject of space in Suetonius has not yet been a focus of philological scholarship.
Sauron’s analysis of the Suetonian depiction of spaces as illustrating transgressions is
merely historical: he understands transgression as the deviation from traditional ways or
as breaking certain boundaries (both in Rome and outside it) (see Sauron 2005, 451), and
analyses Nero’s anti-triumph in Suet. Ner. 35.1–3 as one example of such a transgression
(see Sauron 2005, 455–461).
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 297

told him the year, the day, even the hour, and the way he would die (Dom. 14.1).
In contrast to the time and manner of death, the text (and the prediction of
the astrologers) does not determine the site of the murder. Domitian’s fear and
anxiety get worse the closer the appointed hour approaches (Dom. 14.2; sol-
licitior in dies, Dom. 14.4), and the emperor reacts to this threat by making the
space around him more visible. He has the walls of the porticoes, where he used
to walk, fitted with phengite stone so that, thanks to the mirror effect produced
by that material, he can see what is going on behind him (Dom. 14.4). Domi-
tian’s attempt to broaden the perceptible space surrounding him is opposed
by a description of space around him that is steadily narrowing (Dom. 15.2).
Suetonius’ depiction suggests that lightning bolts that occur within a period
of eight months are searching out the correct place to kill Domitian, and they
come closer and closer to him: a first lightning bolt strikes the Capitol, another
one the templum Flaviae gentis, the next his palace on the Palatine, even his
own bedchamber (Dom. 15.2). Domitian is already killed symbolically when
a storm hits one of his triumphal statues, tears the inscription from its base,
and makes the statue fall onto a nearby tomb (Dom. 15.2). After the lightning
bolts thus determine or define the site of Domitian’s murder, he dreams that
his favourite goddess Minerva leaves her shrine saying that she can no longer
watch over him (Dom. 15.3). Suetonius’ Minerva symbolically makes space for
the murder, which takes place in the bedchamber where Domitian retires after
sending everyone away (summotis omnibus in cubiculum se recepit, Dom. 16.2),
and so where he is once again alone in his reclusiveness.
By contrast to Domitian’s dying in isolation at the very heart of imperial
space, Suetonius describes Nero’s death as an event that takes him away from
the site of Rome.56 Space rather than time structures this death narrative. It
is first designed as a journey from Delphi (Ner. 40.3) to Naples (Ner. 40.4) and
back to Rome (Ner. 41.2). But as the threat gets worse Suetonius’ Nero is depic-
ted as leaving his bedchamber and rushing out (Ner. 47.3). He is then offered
the suburban villa of his freedman Phaon as a hiding-place (Ner. 48.1). The jour-
ney to that villa, on which he is accompanied by four intimates (Ner. 48.1), is
styled as a trip from official space to unofficial space: the way leads Nero from
the road (via) to a byway (deverticulum) through thickets and bramble bushes
along an overgrown path (inter fruticeta ac vepres per harundineti semitam) to

56 The related topics of escape and hiding in this scene have been analysed by Newbold and
Timonen: Newbold 1984 considers the leitmotif of Nero’s death in Suetonius to be “a con-
stant interplay between hiding and exposure, protection and abandonment” (Newbold
1984, 118); Timonen 2000, 237 reads Nero’s death narrative as “an escape story, in the frame
of which the emperor escapes both his enemies and reality”.
298 chapter 10

the back wall of the house (ad aversum villae parietem) (Ner. 48.2–3).57 In order
for Nero to enter the villa, they dig a secret entrance (clandestinus ad villam
introitus, Ner. 48.3). This narrow passage (per angustias) finally leads him to a
little room (cella) (Ner. 48.3–4), the last space that we hear about. The prepara-
tions made for his suicide, which we hear about next, are constantly interrup-
ted by his saying, as mentioned above, “What an artist I am in my dying!” (Ner.
49.1).
The dynamic description of space in Nero’s and Domitian’s Suetonian death
scenes underlines the contrast of their character.58 Both tyrants die in extreme-
ly narrow spaces. But for the isolated autocrat Domitian this space is placed
right at the centre of the Empire and he is there alone when the murderers
arrive. Nero’s cella is separated from the emperor’s official space. The quixotic
artist-emperor was taken there, away from the centre of the Empire, on a trip in
which he becomes more and more artist and less and less emperor. The unof-
ficial small space in which he is finally killed—as artist, not as emperor, as he
underlines—surrounded and helped by intimates, provides a sharp contrast to
his previous existence.

2 Suetonian Techniques: The Effect of Rubrics

2.1 Character: Points of Comparison

That some techniques feature differently in Suetonius than in the histori-
ographers arises from his rubric system. To start with character depiction, both
Tacitus and Cassius Dio use this device as argument. In a circular form of argu-
mentation, an emperor’s character provides reasons or proof for his actions and
his imperial representation, while these are in turn the basis for statements
about his character. The emperors’ character is finally shown not to fit the
demands of the imperial role. The argumentative force of character depictions
is less prominent in Suetonius than in historiographical works. But it is typical
of a Suetonian biography to give a holistic picture of an emperor’s personality
by presenting rubrics that combine his character (as person and emperor), in
the ‘virtues and vices’ rubrics, with his imperial role and forms of represent-
ation, in rubrics on buildings, military endeavours etc. Such external aspects
are understood as signs of an emperor’s character which can be decoded and

57 For elements in this depiction that recall descriptions of the Underworld see Sansone 1993,
181–183.
58 For the characterizing function of space in narrative see de Jong 2014, 126–127.
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 299

interpreted.59 The structure of Suetonius’ Lives, with their mixture of rubrics

and narrative passages, invites the reader to draw direct comparisons between
emperors. It also makes it more convenient to compare certain aspects of their
reigns and lives than in historiography, since pieces of information or certain
topics are more easily found. Aspects that easily become points of comparison
between characters in Suetonius are, as we have already seen, death narratives,
as well as a set of five other biographical elements: the general driving forces of
a personality; family history; upbringing; behaviour before the principate; and
the first things done as princeps. These five biographical elements that illumin-
ate an emperor’s character in Suetonius will now be analysed in the cases of
Suetonius’ Nero and Domitian.
(1) To begin with the driving forces of a personality, we can state first that
both Nero’s and Domitian’s character is presented as fixed. Important traits of
character do not change, but they develop and become apparent to different
degrees depending on external circumstances.60 Suetonius’ Nero conceals his
interests less and less (e.g. Ner. 20.1; 22.2). Suetonius’ Domitian finally turns his
virtues into vices, since in addition to his natural character, poverty makes him
rapacious and fear makes him cruel: quantum coniectare licet super ingenii na-
turam inopia rapax, metu saevus (Dom. 3.2). They both have a driving force that
explains their behaviour: the desire for popularity and fame, which is aimed
mainly at the common people (animum vulgi, Ner. 53), in Nero’s case (Ner. 53–

59 Cf. Hulls 2014, 193, pointing out the role of physiognomy as the external manifestation and
aspect of character.
60 Cf. Müller 1998–1999 on Domitian’s unchanging character in Suetonius, refuting Lam-
brecht 1995, who claims that Domitian’s character did not just develop, but changed.
Galtier, claiming to follow Lambrecht (see Galtier 2009, 89) in his analysis of Domitian’s
and Titus’ character, however, seems to think more of a development in behaviour than
a change in character (cf. Galtier 2009, 92: “L’essentialisme de Suétone implique en effet,
dans les deux cas, l’ actualisation progressive d’ un ingenium dont les potentialités sont
révélées dès le début de l’ existence.”). Suetonius’ Tiberius, too, shows his natural char-
acter more and more and ceases to simulate (Tib. 57.1). He exhibits some development
in his behaviour, but not a change of character. On the ancient idea of an unchanging
character see also Bradley 1991, 3703. Gill challenges the view that antiquity thought of
the character as innate and unchanging by pointing out the interest of classical Greek
and Hellenistic-Roman philosophy in the development of character and by focusing on
another distinction than that of changeable/unchangeable to describe the main differ-
ence between ancient and modern ideas of character: while antiquity is interested in
making moral judgements about a person’s character, modern biographies (at least partly)
explore “from the inside, as it were, the narrative of an individual’s life, with a view to
understanding the special, perhaps unique, character of this life” (Gill 2006, 413 with expli-
cit reference to Gill 1983). Gill, however, focuses not on Suetonius, but on Plutarch (and
Tacitus, see p.115–119).
300 chapter 10

55), and fear in Domitian’s case (Dom. 14.2; cf. 3.2). Neither Suetonius’ Nero
nor Domitian show the self-awareness of their own character that Suetonius’
Tiberius exhibits (Tib. 67).61
(2) As regards family history, the differences between Suetonius’ Nero and
Suetonius’ Domitian could hardly be more obvious: Nero’s ancestors already
foreshadow his vices, whereas Domitian is distanced from his ancestors and
their virtues. The biography of Nero starts with the family history of the Do-
mitii, especially the branch of the Ahenobarbi.62 This is done similarly for the
Claudii in the Life of Tiberius (Tib. 1–4) and the Sulpicii Galbae in the Life of
Galba (Galb. 3), but only in the depiction of Nero’s ancestors does a straight-
forward genealogy emerge, culminating in Nero. In Nero’s biography the list of
ancestors is quite long and their depiction relatively detailed. Suetonius himself
states the reason for his interest in Nero’s family history and makes the purpose
of this beginning of his biography explicit. By reporting on Nero’s ancestors it
becomes clearer, so Suetonius, that on the one hand Nero lapsed from the vir-
tues of his ancestors, but on the other hand he reproduced the vices of each
one of them as their heir: pluris e familia cognosci referre arbitror quo facilius
appareat ita degenerasse a suorum virtutibus Nero ut tamen vitia cuiusque quasi
tradita et ingenita rettulerit (Ner. 1.2).63 Suetonius here points out that Nero
did not follow the good character traits that his ancestors possessed, but dis-
played their vices. When we read the following passage about these ancestors,
we indeed detect several similarities between Nero’s ancestors and himself,
which are intended to prove Suetonius’ assertion independently of their his-
torical accuracy.64 They take their decisions led by personal motives (see the
grandfather of Nero’s great-grandfather in Ner. 2.1 and Nero’s great-grandfather
in Ner. 3.2, although this is about a reproach of Marc Antony, whom he aban-
doned for Augustus’ side), celebrate incorrect triumphs (see the grandfather
of Nero’s great-grandfather in Ner. 2.1), they are indecisive (see the father of
Nero’s great-grandfather in Ner. 2.3), they are savage and cruel (see the father

61 Tiberius is also aware of the unchangeability of his character: cum ait similem se semper
sui futurum nec umquam mutaturum mores suos quam diu sanae mentis fuisset (“when he
said that, as long as he was of sound mind, he would always be the likeness of himself and
would never change his character”, Tib. 67.3).
62 Barton points out that family history usually forms the beginning of an encomium,
whereas in the case of Suetonius’ Nero it provides an invective element in the biography
(Barton 1994, 50–52).
63 There is not such a clear link between the traits of ancestors and an emperor’s own char-
acter at the beginning of the biography of Tiberius (ex hac stirpe Tiberius Caesar genus
trahit, Tib. 3.1).
64 See also Bradley 1978, 23.
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 301

of Nero’s great-grandfather in Ner. 2.3, Nero’s grandfather in Ner. 4, Nero’s father

in Ner. 5.1–2), and profligate (see Nero’s grandfather in Ner. 4). Further similar-
ities emerge: the father of Nero’s great-grandfather is afraid of death and not
able to commit suicide (Ner. 2.3); Nero’s grandfather foreshadows Nero’s love
of chariot-driving, theatre, and the circus (Ner. 4); Nero’s father is accused of
incest with a close relative, in this case his sister (Ner. 5.2). By contrast, Do-
mitian’s biography does not start with a detailed family history, since Flavian
family history has already been presented, if briefly, at the beginning of Ves-
pasian’s Life (Vesp. 1.2–4). At the very beginning of Vespasian’s biography the
Flavian family is rated altogether positively, with the exception of and in spite
of Domitian (Vesp. 1.1).
(3) To turn to an emperor’s early years, this distancing of the Suetonian Do-
mitian from the rest of his family continues in his biography, when his upbring-
ing and the behaviour of his father and brother during Vespasian’s principate
are depicted (Dom. 2.1): Vespasian, who, as Suetonius claims against the offi-
cial version in Flavian media,65 rebukes Domitian’s behaviour, has his son live
with him to make him more aware of his age and rank. Two examples following
each other directly illuminate how among the Flavians Domitian is singled out
from Vespasian and Titus. When they go out Vespasian and Titus go in their
sedan chairs (sitting upright), Domitian follows them in his litter (forced to
recline) (Dom. 2.1).66 When they both celebrate their triumph over the Jews,
the first time one has been granted to a father and son,67 Domitian accom-
panies them on a white horse (Dom. 2.1).68 This alleged distance also makes
Domitian’s joint guilt in Titus’ death and the few honours he bestowed on his
dead brother more probable (Dom. 2.3).69 Thus, Domitian’s upbringing shows
that his father distanced himself from his son and functions as proof that he
was indeed different from his father and brother. More directly, Nero’s father

65 See Jones 1996, 20 on a frieze from the Palazzo della Cancellaria, which provides us with
the official version, in which Vespasian is pleased with Domitian.
66 Cf. Jones 1996, 21.
67 Cf. Jones 1996, 21.
68 In Flavius Josephus, by contrast, Titus follows Vespasian, and Domitian rides besides them
in magnificent apparel on a horse that is well worth seeing: μεθ’ ἃ Οὐεσπασιανὸς ἤλαυνε
πρῶτος καὶ Τίτος εἵπετο, Δομετιανὸς δὲ παρίππευεν, αὐτός τε διαπρεπῶς κεκοσμημένος καὶ τὸν
ἵππον παρέχων θέας ἄξιον (“Behind them drove first Vespasian, followed by Titus; while
Domitian rode beside them, in magnificent apparel and mounted on a steed that was itself
a sight”, Joseph. BJ 7.152).
69 That Domitian only honoured Titus by deification is historically incorrect; see Jones 1996,
28, who collects evidence for Domitianic coins, inscriptions, and buildings that honour
Titus.
302 chapter 10

discredits his son right after his birth when he says that from him and Agrip-
pina only something detestable and harmful to the state could be born (Ner.
6.1). Nero’s early years are then used to make his later behaviour more plaus-
ible.70 With his father dead and his mother relegated he was brought up by
his aunt Lepida and placed in the care of two tutors, one of them a dancer,
the other a barber: apud amitam Lepidam nutritus est sub duobus paedagogis,
saltatore atque tonsore (Ner. 6.3). While it was common to have slaves as tutors
for children, the specification of these two as dancer and barber triggers asso-
ciations with Nero’s later interest in performances and his hairstyle (cf. Ner.
51).
(4) In his early years before the principate Suetonius’ Nero already exhibits
the cruelty of his character and gives proofs of it as soon as possible (prodi-
ta immanitate naturae quibus primum potuit experimentis, Ner. 7.1). The same
assertion is made of Suetonius’ Domitian. In his case too, as was mentioned
before, his character was already recognizable in the years before his own prin-
cipate: so impudently did he exercise every force of his power that it became
clear even at that time what sort of man he would later be (ceterum omnem
vim dominationis tam licenter exercuit, ut iam tum qualis esset ostenderet, Dom.
1.3).
(5) These two characters are confronted with the demands of the imperial
role when they become principes. For both, Suetonius records what they do
first at the start of their principate. Nero’s first imperial deed (statim ut imper-
ium adeptus est, Ner. 20) and the first mentioned among the negative deeds
is that he summoned Terpnus to court, the leading lyre-player of the time.
The structurally comparable scene in Domitian’s Life tells us what he did every
day at the beginning of his principate (inter initia principatus cotidie): he took
hours for himself to spend them alone, catching flies and impaling them with a
very sharp stylus (secreto sibi horarum ⟨spatium⟩ sumere solebat nec quicquam
amplius quam muscas captare ac stilo praeacuto configere, Dom. 3.1).71 The two
situations are telling, since they are already along the lines of the reign that will
follow and illustrate Nero’s artistry and Domitian’s cruelty and isolation.

70 For “errors of fact and detail” (Bradley 1978, 44) in this passage on Nero’s childhood see
Bradley 1978, 44–45. These ‘errors’ all serve the literary deconstruction of Nero.
71 On Domitian’s desire for solitude and his depiction as tyrant see Hulls 2014, 184. On the dif-
ferent ancient versions of this episode see Zadorojnyi 2006, 351–353, whose interest is in
Domitian’s weapon, the stylus, as an instrument of tyrannical power, and the relationship
of literary and imperial control.
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 303

2.2 Coding through Rubrics

2.2.1 Construction and Circular Logic of Rubrics
The coding of imperial representation in and by a rubric is, in comparison
with Tacitus and Cassius Dio, a specifically Suetonian technique of decon-
struction.72 A rubric on a virtue or vice collects material that proves that the
emperor can really be characterized by this character trait, for example as
mild or cruel, civil or arrogant. A rubric on a topic of imperial representation
presents instances of his conduct within this context, for example his military
deeds, his administration, his buildings. Rubrics that consist of topics of rep-
resentation are part of a positive or negative section on an emperor and so also
prove a certain character trait, be it virtuous or vicious in general. Thus both
Nero’s spectacula (Ner. 11–13) and Domitian’s buildings (Dom. 5) are in the sec-
tion on their laudable (or neutral) deeds, whereas Caligula’s divinity (Calig. 22)
is part of the negative section de monstro.
The relation between the rubric’s headword and the elements of the rub-
ric is circular: the single elements form the rubric; at the same time the rubric
determines how we read the single elements.73 We have seen already that the
headword of the rubric influences our interpretation of an emperor’s renam-
ing of the months: in Nero’s case this act of imperial representation provides an
example of his wish for popularity (Ner. 55), in Domitian’s case it argues for his
arrogance (Dom. 13.3). The context of the rubric thus defines how we evaluate
the imperial actions depicted in it.
This section has dealt with two strategies concerning the rubrics which help
to code imperial representation as negative: labelling and selecting inform-
ation. We will see that neither of them is innocuous. They show potentially
positive aspects of imperial representation to their disadvantage. Such an inter-
pretation works on the assumption that a reader will accept and try to fol-
low the logic of the text, which Suetonius points out by explicit comments
and a clear disposition.74 We will see later, however, that a different read-
ing of the rubrics is possible, in which the rubrics partly deconstruct them-
selves.75

72 For rubrics that recall Suetonius in Cassius Dio see p.224–225.

73 In this section I am drawing on my own article Schulz 2018 about the use of examples in
rubrics in Suetonius’ Flavian Lives.
74 See also p.308–310.
75 On p.327–329.
304 chapter 10

2.2.2 Labelling: Coding through Headwords

To study how the headword of a rubric determines the recipient’s way of read-
ing the single elements of a rubric and thus deconstructs them, we can turn to
the rubric on Domitian’s arrogantia (Dom. 12.3–13) and focus on its very begin-
ning: the first example of Suetonius’ Domitian being far from courteous, but
rather presumptuous and unrestrained, both in his words and in his deeds
(minime civilis animi, confidens etiam et cum verbis tum rebus immodicus) is
from his youth (ab iuventa) (Dom. 12.3). This is remarkable since the divisio in
Dom. 10.1 suggests that the rest of the biography presents vices from after 81 CE.
Domitian’s boldness and immoderateness is obviously supposed to be made
plausible by early bad behaviour. The rubric arrogantia thereby not only seems
larger, but Domitian’s vice also figures as having been constant from the begin-
ning.76 We have already briefly touched upon this first instance that Suetonius
labels arrogant: it refers to Domitian’s behaviour towards Caenis, Vespasian’s
concubine (Dom. 12.3). When she returns from Istria and offers him a kiss (to
greet him), Domitian just holds forth his hand (Caenidi patris concubinae ex
Histria reversae osculumque ut assuerat offerenti manum praebuit, Dom. 12.3).
Does a father’s concubine deserve an intimate form of greeting? We read Domi-
tian’s neglect of a kiss as a negative action because it is reported under the rub-
ric of Domitian’s arrogance and because it is depicted as something unusual.
The additional information that Suetonius’ Domitian had been accustomed to
kiss Caenis (ut assuerat) turns his behaviour here into something new that devi-
ates from the ordinary, and so codes it more negatively. Maybe the reader also
knows or recalls from Vespasian’s Life that Caenis almost had the position of
a legitimate wife (paene iustae uxoris loco, Vesp. 3), which further supports the
negative framing.
There is also an example of Domitian’s arrogance during his own principate
(principatus vero adeptus, Dom. 13.1) that would be read differently if it were lis-
ted in another rubric. Suetonius here presents a statement of Domitian’s that
suggests his own divinity, which is to be interpreted as arrogant: Suetonius’
Domitian proclaimed, when he took his wife back after the divorce, that he
had recalled her to his divine couch (pulvinar, Dom. 13.1). We can compare
this dictum of Domitian with an utterance of Suetonius’ Vespasian about his
own divinity. Whenever he got ill, so Suetonius, Vespasian said: “Alas! I think
I am becoming a god” (“vae”, inquit, “puto, deus fio”, Vesp. 23.4). In Vespasian’s
Life, however, this is not noted in a rubric on arrogance, but on humour (dica-

76 This technique of padding out a rubric is regarded as one of Suetonius’ major mistakes by
history scholars (cf. Flach 1972, 279).
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 305

citas/ioci). We hence assume that Vespasian said it tongue-in-cheek and do not

read it in a negative way, as would otherwise be possible.77 This reading is sup-
ported by the fame of Vespasian’s wit.78 Domitian’s utterance about his divine
couch is less innocent, since it refers to the present and not to the time after his
death. Nonetheless it has humorous potential, as mentioned above.79 If it was
labelled as humour, we could read it as ironic too. And there would even be a
suitable place in his biography: it would fit well within Dom. 20–21, which col-
lects remarkable utterances by Domitian. But the context of this rubric defines
it as a sincere and arrogant statement. It directly precedes the contention that
Domitian and his wife were called dominus and domina in the amphitheatre
(Dom. 13.1) and that he let himself be called dominus et deus (Dom. 13.2). Domi-
tian’s and Vespasian’s statements are not dissimilar. They both refer to their own
(potential) divinity. But the context of each of Suetonius’ rubrics semanticizes
it, resulting in a positive effect as dicacitas in one case and a negative effect as
arrogantia in the other.
The same strategy of biased labelling can be found in other rubrics in which
the imperial actions mentioned are not as negative as the rubric may suggest if
one looks at them in isolation. The single elements, for example, that Suetonius
lists to prove Domitian’s libido nimia (Dom. 22.1) are almost innocent for a
tyrant: Suetonius’ Domitian calls his constant sexual activity “bed-wrestling”,
he depilates his mistresses, and swims with the commonest prostitutes.80 We
would not easily consider them as proof of excessive lust outside this rubric.81
Other items might also have been part of a positive rubric. Domitian’s convivia,
for example, would fit well in a possible rubric on moderatio: Suetonius objects
that Domitian’s convivia did not last long and were not followed by a drinking
party (Dom. 21). Other emperors are criticized for the opposite, for immoder-
ate behaviour at feasts.82 That Suetonius’ Domitian is by contrast moderate is

77 Milns 2010, 121 entertains the possibility that Vespasian’s statement was ascribed to him
by his enemies with an originally malicious intention.
78 On Vespasian’s humour cf. Luke 2009–2010: Suetonius uses the depiction of Vespasian’s
humour (Vesp. 8) to contrast him with Nero.
79 See p.290.
80 Cf. the overview of Krenkel 1980, 66–70 on the sexual vices of Suetonius’ emperors, and
Charles 2002, 39–40 on Suetonius’ weak evidence for Domitian’s libido.
81 The only severe accusation, namely that Domitian seduced his niece and forced her into
an abortion and her death, is not credible; see Jones 1996, 151.
82 The first vice of Tiberius mentioned among his vitia is his abuse of wine (Tib. 42.1; cf. Tib.
72.3). Claudius tends to gluttony (Claud. 33.1), as do Galba (Galb. 22) and especially Vitel-
lius (Vit. 13). Marc Antony prolongs his dinners with Cleopatra at his side until sunrise (Iul.
52.1). Cf. Charles 2002, 39. On Domitian’s comissationes see also Jones 2002, 238–239.
306 chapter 10

not taken as an opportunity for praise, as it is for Suetonius’ Titus.83 It is rather

connected to Domitian’s desire for solitude: he prefers to go for a walk on his
own instead.
The context and the headword under which imperial representation is de-
picted and labelled is not only important for single actions but also for whole
rubrics, which can be grouped together into bigger sections. All of Caligula’s
vices are presented under the headword de monstro, the positive qualities
under the at least neutral quasi de principe (Calig. 22.1). Nero’s vices are split
into two sections with headwords that suggest worse things than vitia, namely
probra and scelera (Ner. 19.3). Nero’s dinners (Ner. 27.2–3) are put in the neg-
ative context of petulantia, more by association than by thematic conformity.
Nero’s marriages do not form a single rubric (as marriages do in Aug. 62 and
Claud. 26, marked by the first word sponsam or sponsas), but are integrated
into the rubric on Nero’s crudelitas (Ner. 35.1).

2.2.3 Selecting: Coding through Omissions

Suetonius selects the pieces of information he presents, as do the histori-
ographers. But there are two important differences between Suetonius’ selec-
tions and those of Tacitus and Cassius Dio, which characterize his specific form
of deconstruction. First, Suetonius’ focus is much more on the perspective of
the emperor. Everything else that might be interesting or relevant in a con-
text in which the emperor is involved, for example the conduct of the senate,
is mostly omitted. The emperor whose biography Suetonius is writing is the
only important parameter for the depiction. His perspective and the context of
the rubric or narration determine which information is given. Thus Suetonius
mentions the murder of Poppaea Sabina in the section on Nero’s crudelitas
(Ner. 35.1). But he does not tell us here that she was married to Otho, since this
piece of information only becomes relevant in Otho’s own biography (Oth. 3.1).
Second, in the system of rubrics, selection seems less suspicious than in his-
toriographical narratives at first sight. A rubric consists of single elements that
prove a certain quality or illustrate forms of imperial representation and which
are not necessarily as connected with each other as are actions in a continuous
narrative. Rubrics are selective by nature; their selective character is hence not

83 Titus’ moderate feasts are listed first among his virtutes as emperor (Tit. 7.2). With Augus-
tus, potential criticism of similar behaviour is mitigated: he arrives late at his dinner
parties and leaves early, but while he is there he shows himself to be highly sociable (Aug.
74). For this passage cf. Roller 2001, 145: “Such affability and unpretentiousness in the con-
vivium (…) is associated with the absence of onerous displays of social hiearchy.”
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 307

automatically to be considered a rhetorical strategy. The omission of elements

is more justified from this literary perspective than in historiography.
But Suetonius’ selection processes are far from innocent. They make gen-
eralizations from one negative deed extremely easy.84 Additionally, Suetonius
sometimes draws attention to his selection process and the fact that he has
omitted several elements. Before giving examples of Tiberius’ saevitia he makes
clear that he is not listing all instances of cruel behaviour: singillatim crude-
liter facta eius exequi longum est, genera velut exemplaria saevitiae enumerare
sat erit (Tib. 61.2). And after claiming that Nero killed everyone without dis-
crimination or restraint, Suetonius states explicitly that he will present only a
small selection: sed ne de pluribus referam (Ner. 37.1). Also, early proof of Domi-
tian’s impudent behaviour is only given in examples (ne exequar singula, Dom.
1.3). The explicit marking of missing elements has the same effect as in histori-
ography.85 It makes the reader think that the number of negative actions that
could have been mentioned must be high.
Reinforcing this effect, the selection processes and devices in the positive
sections on bad emperors do not favour them either. Examples of highly select-
ive rubrics are those on Domitian’s buildings (Dom. 5)86 and on his military
actions (Dom. 6), which contrast sharply with the large number of examples
of his saevitia (Dom. 10–11). Domitian’s opera (Dom. 5)87 are part of his neutral
or even laudable deeds (Dom. 4–9) and are treated after his games (spectacula,
Dom. 4) and before his military expeditions (expeditiones, Dom. 6). Following
the logic of the text the reader is expecting examples that prove Domitian’s pos-
itive achievements in his building endeavours. But the rubric in fact presents
something potentially good as not exactly positive. If we think of the massive
influence that the historical Domitian had on the urban landscape of Rome,
we immediately notice how small this rubric is in Suetonius. According to
Michael Charles, Suetonius “seems to display an almost complete indifference
to the incontestable fact that Domitian was one of the Empire’s most prolific
builders”.88 I would argue, rather, that this neglect is not a sign of Suetonius’
indifference to Domitian’s building projects, but a literary strategy: by contrast,
Vespasian’s (Vesp. 8.5–9.1) and Titus’ (Tit. 8.4) building politics are evaluated

84 For such generalizations see Ner. 24.1 with Bradley 1978, 143; Kierdorf 1992, 192, and Ner.
36.2 with Bradley 1978, 222; Kierdorf 1992, 214. See also Wallace-Hadrill 1983, 61 with refer-
ence to the complete Caesares.
85 Cf. p.226–227.
86 Claud. 20.1–3 is also superficial on Claudius’ buildings (cf. Jones 1996, 49).
87 Cf. Charles 2002, 33–37 on Suetonius’ treatment of Nero’s and Domitian’s buildings en-
deavours.
88 Charles 2002, 34.
308 chapter 10

positively. Domitian’s palace on the Palatine, for example, which is so promin-

ent in the panegyrics of Martial and Statius, is not mentioned at all.89 It only
becomes relevant in the narrative of Domitian’s death as the setting of the
events (Dom. 15.2).90 Domitian’s statues and triumphal arches are not listed
among his building endeavours either, but only later in the rubric on arrogantia
(Dom. 13.2). Even if we do not immediately recognize that these elements have
been left out of the rubric opera,91 we are reminded of them by their later
appearance in the text, by then in a negative context. Also the following “sum-
mary of Domitian’s expeditiones is far from complete. A brief outline of a few
campaigns and triumphs is followed by a longer section describing a single
incident (Saturninus’ revolt of 89) in far greater detail”.92 The triumphs of 83
and 86 CE are striking for their omission. The focus is thus on the negative civil
war.

2.3 Disposition and Order of Rubrics: Guiding the Reader

2.3.1 Explicit Divisions
A technique of Suetonian deconstruction that is closely intertwined with the
strategy of rubricizing information is the disposition of information and of
rubrics within a Life. Suetonius’ structure is not innocent but conveys certain
evaluations of emperors, both on the macro- and the micro-level.93 The struc-
ture of Suetonius’ biographies is characterized by specific divisions: between
different kinds of rubrics, and between rubrics and chronological passages.
There are several transitional statements (e.g. Iul. 44.4; Aug. 61.1; Vit. 10) that
point out the structure of the text, but not every transition in the text receives
such a marker.94 The Lives of Caligula, Nero, and Domitian have one remark-

89 See, e.g., Mart. 8.36; 8.39; Stat. Silv. 4.2.

90 This mentioning of Domitian’s palace only in the condemnatory sections of the text has
also been pointed out by Charles 2002, 37.
91 The palace, as domus Flavia, is indeed only partly a public building endeavour, cf. Cordes
2017, 43 with further references to Darwall-Smith 1996 and Zanker 2004.
92 Jones 1996, 53.
93 The importance of composition and division for Suetonius’ evaluations of his material
in general has been recognized and analysed by Steidle ²1963; Cizek 1977, who includes
a detailed disposition of all the Lives in his work. See also Townend 1967, 86; Mouchova
1968; Croisille 1970, who compares the Life of Claudius and the Life of Nero to illustrate how
the differing structures suit the depiction of each of the two emperors; Lossau 1975, 498;
500; Gugel 1977, who takes an extreme position regarding Suetonius’ purpose of literary
disposition; Gascou 1984, 691–697. See also Power 2014a, 8: “Although divisio is common in
ancient authors of biography and nearby genres, none use it nearly as often or elaborately
as Suetonius”.
94 Transitions do not have to be made explicit. They can be more subtle, as between the
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 309

able typical feature in common that is not shared by the rest of the vitae. For
these three emperors Suetonius divides the text explicitly into a section about
neutral or positive deeds and character traits on the one hand (virtutes), and
a section about negative ones (vitia) on the other hand. Before analysing how
these divisions are used to convey meaning and to assess an emperor and his
representation, we need to recall the macro-structure of these three biograph-
ies.
The Life of Caligula begins with a short biography of his father Germani-
cus (Calig. 1–7), followed by Caligula’s birth and early years up to his ascent to
the principate (Calig. 8–14). The main part (Calig. 15–49) presents his time as
princeps under different rubrics, before more personal characteristics (Calig.
50–55) and the events surrounding his death (Calig. 56–60) are discussed. The
passage about Caligula as princeps in a strict sense (Calig. 15–49) falls into two
parts, as the divisio in Calig. 22.1 points out, where Suetonius distinguishes
briefly, but very explicitly, between the preceding chapters Calig. 15–21 and the
following chapters Calig. 22–49: hactenus quasi de principe, reliqua ut de mon-
stro narranda sunt (Calig. 22.1). So far, Suetonius says, he has dealt with Caligula
as though (quasi) he was a princeps; what he will say now will have to be told
as about a monster (ut de monstro) (Calig. 22.1). Suetonius distinguishes two
aspects of Caligula, the princeps and the monstrum. But both words are quali-
fied by adverbs (quasi; ut) signalling that they are used in an unusual way (“so to
speak”; “as it were”).95 Caligula is not really a monster—a word that Suetonius
uses nowhere else in the Lives of the Caesars—but he is also not really a prin-
ceps, as one might think after reading chapters Calig. 15–21. The princeps-like
passage about him (Calig. 15–21) is followed by a much longer account of the
monster-like Caligula (Calig. 22.1–49).
The next emperor whose reign is explicitly divided into ‘neutral/good’ and
‘bad’ is Nero.96 After the description of Nero’s ancestors and his early years (Ner.
1–7), his reign is presented under different rubrics (Ner. 8–39). Then follow
his last weeks, his death and funeral (Ner. 40–50), his personal characterist-
ics (Ner. 51–56), and the reactions to his death (Ner. 57). The passage on his
reign is structured by the following divisio, a rhetorical statement on the struc-
ture of the text: haec partim nulla reprehensione, partim etiam non mediocri

libido-section and the luxuria-section in Nero’s Life (Ner. 29 and 30.1), where the transition
is achieved by ending the first and starting the second with a dictum of Nero. The trans-
ition from Nero’s luxuria to his avaritia is achieved through the anecdote about Dido’s
treasure (Ner. 32).
95 Cf. OLD, s.v. quasi B9a; s.v. ut 8c.
96 On the division of the Life of Nero cf. also Lounsbury 1991, 3751–3760.
310 chapter 10

laude digna in unum contuli, ut secernerem a probris ac sceleribus eius, de quibus

dehinc dicam (Ner. 19.3). With this nicely parallel sentence, Suetonius is saying
that, in the preceding chapters (Ner. 8–19.2), he collected everything that mer-
ited no reproach or even high praise. He did this in order to separate this rather
positive account from Nero’s misdeeds and crimes, about which he will talk
henceforth (Ner. 20–39).
The Life of Domitian, although much shorter than those of Caligula and Nero,
is the only one that has two divisiones. The first one is set right after the account
of Domitian’s early years, his deeds before 81 CE (Dom. 1–3.1). We learn that for
some time faults and virtues were mixed equally in him (mixturaque97 aequa-
bili vitiorum atque virtutum) until he turned his virtues into faults too: donec vir-
tutes quoque in vitia deflexit (Dom. 3.2). Domitian deteriorates. The reader, who
is informed about Domitian’s deterioration even before the text has reached
Domitian’s accession to power, learns of Domitian’s rather positive deeds first
(Dom. 4–9), then of his faults (Dom. 10–13), finally of his death (Dom. 14–17),
his personal characteristics (Dom. 18–22), and the reactions to his death (Dom.
23). Between virtues and vices, Suetonius has a second division, which recurs
to the first one (Dom. 10.1): Domitian did not remain merciful and incorrupt, as
he was described in Dom. 4–9, but declined into cruelty and greed, as will be
depicted in Dom. 10–13.

2.3.2 Divisiones and Structure as Assessments

These divisiones and transitional statements (Calig. 22.1; Ner. 19.3; Dom. 3.2;
10.1) illuminate in a nutshell how Suetonius assesses and deconstructs these
emperors on the whole. Caligula, here compared to a monster, is the worst.
The description of his faults (Calig. 22.1–49) is roughly four times as long as
the description of his other deeds (Calig. 15–21). Second to him in badness
comes Domitian, who at least at the beginning of his reign showed a mixture of
good and bad behaviour. The text on his rather positive actions (Dom. 4–9) is
clearly longer than the text on his faults (Dom. 10–13). Nero’s faults (Ner. 20–39)
receive almost four times more text than his virtues (Ner. 8–19.2),98 comparable
in length to Caligula’s description, but—unlike his uncle’s accomplishments
(Calig. 22.1)—Nero’s deeds are explicitly praised by Suetonius (Ner. 19.3).
The transitional statements that point out this structure differ in their de-
tails. In the divisio in the Life of Nero, the narrator is strongly present, using the

97 Cf. Kaster 2016, 257 on the text (mixturaque).

98 I am referring to the length of the text in pages. The modern division into paragraphs,
going back to Erasmus (cf. Pausch 2004, 264–265) is misleading here, since they are of
very unequal length.
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 311

active voice and the first person singular (contuli; ut secernerem; dicam, Ner.
19.3). He displays control over the text and its structure and takes full respons-
ibility for his divisio, the purpose of which he also explains to the reader. The
passage in the Life of Caligula is also about how to structure the text from the
point of view of a narrator (Calig. 22.1). However, the narrator does not refer
to himself here explicitly and uses the construction with the gerund in passive
voice instead of the first person (narranda sunt). The labels or headwords of the
two sections that this division creates (quasi de principe; ut de monstro, Calig.
22.1) are also less concrete than in the parallel Nero-passage (partim nulla re-
prehensione, partim etiam non mediocri laude digna; a probris ac sceleribus, Ner.
19.3). The divisio in the Life of Domitian is not about how to structure the text as
a narrator, but about Domitian himself, who is subject of both transitional sen-
tences (Dom. 3.2; Dom. 10.1).99 His own development from a mixture of faults
and virtues to faults only, from mercifulness and uncorruptedness to cruelty
and greed, is thus depicted as providing the structure for both Domitian’s life
and Suetonius’ Life of Domitian.
Given these differences, the three divisiones and the dispositions of the Lives
discussed still fulfil the same function. They guide the reader in reading the text.
With the section on virtues and neutral deeds coming first in each case, the
emphasis is on the vices, which come second in biographies of bad emperors.
Consequently, in the Life of Titus, Suetonius’ favourite emperor, the disposition
is the other way round: the vitia come first (Tit. 6–7.1), and Suetonius adds that
they all turned into the highest virtues eventually (Tit. 7.1). The emphasis on
the second part of the vitia in Caligula’s and Nero’s Lives is reinforced further:
since the divisio in each case directly precedes the bad deeds, these are expli-
citly introduced, whereas the rather positive deeds are only labelled as such
after we have already read them.100 Not only are the positive deeds of both
Caligula and Nero not explicitly introduced as such. They are also preceded by
sections that make it harder to read them in a positive way: Caligula’s Life starts
with a short biography of the idealized Germanicus. In comparison to him,
Caligula’s relatively good actions appear relatively bad. Also, we have seen that
Nero’s biography starts with a short family history, which is explicitly included

99 It is characteristic of Suetonius that he usually has the emperor as the subject of his main
verbs, cf. Power 2014a, 5–7, according to whom 80 % of Suetonius’ main verbs refer to an
action of the princeps. But, compared to the other transitional statements, the usage of
having the emperor as subject who himself turns his virtues into vices stands out.
100 Reading the Life of Nero for the first time, the list of Nero’s consulships in Ner. 14, for
example, is not put into any context. We are given a complete account, but no evaluation.
The evaluation only becomes apparent later (Ner. 19.3) when we hear that this part of the
biography was about Nero’s neutral or praiseworthy deeds.
312 chapter 10

to demonstrate from whom Nero inherited his vices (Ner. 1.2). For that reason
the following good deeds just make the reader wait for the vices.
This is different in Domitian’s biography, in which the virtues are announced
before they are presented (Dom. 3.2). However, this divisio also points out
already that the virtues, mixed from the beginning with negative behaviour,
finally become vices. What is more, this development has been stated twice
before: even earlier in Domitian’s biography (Dom. 1.3) and at the very begin-
ning of the Life of Vespasian (constet licet Domitianum cupiditatis ac saevitiae
merito poenas luisse, “although it is agreed that Domitian was punished rightly
for his lust and cruelty”, Vesp. 1.1). The fact that Domitian’s deterioration is poin-
ted out three times altogether (Vesp. 1.1; Dom. 1.3; Dom. 3.2) before his virtues
have even been presented makes up for the fact that the virtues are, in con-
trast to the Lives of Caligula and Nero, introduced explicitly before they are
discussed. Additionally, the structure of Domitian’s Life, unlike Nero’s, also has
a chronological aspect, as is implied by the term aliquamdiu in the phrase ali-
quamdiu se varium praestitit and the donec-sentence in the first transitional
statement (Dom. 3.2), as well as the celerius in the second transitional state-
ment (Dom. 10.1).101 This temporal structure limits the virtues to an early period
of Domitian’s reign and marginalizes them.102 Again, we find the same strategy
the other way round in the Life of Titus, in which Titus’ vices are confined to his
early years (Tit. 7.1).

2.3.3 Building Unity

Suetonian structure, with its rubrics, narrative passages, divisiones, and trans-
itional statements, also displays devices that produce the impression of unity
in the text or text passage.103 One of these devices is foreshadowing, such as in
the opening passage of the Life of Domitian (Dom. 1–3.1). The section on Domi-
tian’s positive deeds (Dom. 4–9) and the first divisio (Dom. 3.2), which we have
just discussed, are preceded by a passage on Domitian’s negative deeds before
81 CE and in the early years of his principate. This passage further diminishes

101 Suetonius’ Domitian is here similar to Suetonius’ Tiberius: following the positive beha-
viour by Tiberius depicted in Tib. 26–32, he gradually deteriorated; we learn later that he
was able to conceal his vices somewhat for a long time, but that they broke forth during
his time in Capri (cuncta simul vitia male diu dissimulata tandem profudit, Tib. 42.1).
102 Cf. the foreshadowing adverb aliquamdiu and the expression inter initia in Dom. 9.1.
103 A device I am not treating here explicitly that also adds to the impression of unity is Sueto-
nian ring composition (see Power 2014b, who discusses the endings of several biograph-
ies, the reminiscences of earlier points they produce, and the effect of closure achieved
thereby). On stylistic and aesthetic grounds, Suetonius’ rhythmical prose and the use of
clausulae (see Lounsbury 1991, 3770–3777) add to the marking of structure and unity too.
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 313

the impression made by the announced virtues of Suetonius’ Domitian in the

first divisio (Dom. 3.2). Several narrative elements that occur in this passage
foreshadow his bad behaviour and imperial representation later (Dom. 1–3.1):
Suetonius here points out Domitian’s passive homosexuality, his passiveness
in war and his cowardice, his taking up political responsibility only formally,
his misuse of power and his licentia (including sexual relations), his taking
someone else’s wife, his arrogance, social isolation, and cruelty, his bad military
actions, his acting from personal reasons and presenting of bogus reasons, Ves-
pasian and Titus as Domitian’s opponents, and Domitian’s simulatio (regarding
his interest in poetry). On a smaller scale, single temporal adverbs can also fore-
shadow a change of good behaviour, such as diu in Ner. 15.2, or paulatim and
primo in Tib. 33.
A second structural element that contributes to the unity of a text passage
are patterns such as parallelisms and chiasmus. The divisio in the Life of Domi-
tian introduces three possible reasons (quantum coniectare licet) for Domitian
finally turning his virtues into vices: these are his character (super ingenii nat-
uram); his poverty (cf. Dom. 1.1), which made him greedy (inopia rapax); and
his fear, which made him cruel (metu saevus) (Dom. 3.2). The later section on
his vices (Dom. 10–13) consists of three rubrics: saevitia (Dom. 10–11), which
takes up metu saevus (Dom. 3.2); cupiditas (Dom. 12.1–2), which picks up inopia
rapax (Dom. 3.2); and arrogantia (Dom. 12.3–13). arrogantia is emphasized as
the last in the triad of Domitian’s vices. Since not only the two elements of
saevitia/metus and cupiditas/inopia, but all three elements in the division cor-
respond (chiastically) to the three vices, Domitian’s arrogance is here attributed
to his character.104 This does not contradict the above-mentioned chronolo-
gical element of the division and structure of the Life: Suetonius’ Domitian
declined into saevitia first, then into cupiditas (Dom. 10.1). Both of these motifs
were already foreshadowed in the opening section (cf. Dom. 1.1 on inopia and
Dom. 1.2–3 implicitly on fear) and pointed out as Domitian’s main vices in the
opening section of the first Flavian Life (Vesp. 1.1). But arrogance is presented
as very typical of his character.
Similarly, a text section gains unity by parallel structures and by picking up
and varying a motif or sequence of motifs. A good example of this technique is
the section on Nero’s vices with its two parts of probra (Ner. 20–25) and scelera
(Ner. 26–38). We have already seen that, while the scelera-part is structured by
vices that are topoi for more or less all tyrants (petulantia, libido, luxuria, avari-

104 This may provide an answer to the question why arrogantia was not announced before-
hand (as noted by Mouchova 1968, 101).
314 chapter 10

tia, crudelitas), the probra can be characterized as the truly Neronian section.
To recap the structure of the section: it comprises Nero’s musical activities (Ner.
20–21.2), Nero as actor (Ner. 21.2–3), Nero as charioteer (Ner. 22.1–3), and Nero’s
grand tour of Greece and his triumph in Rome (Ner. 22.3–25). It can be read as
a self-contained unit: three distinct topics (music, acting, chariot-driving) are
brought together and further developed in the description of one event, the
journey to Greece. The section on Nero’s probra starts and ends with a remark
on Nero’s voice and the professional exercises and care that he applied to it
(Ner. 20.1; 25.3). This rounds off the section and Suetonius comes full circle at
its end.

2.4 Amplification: Rubrics and Crescendo

The order of the rubrics within Nero’s probra-section is an example of ampli-
fication as regards the arrangement of several rubrics:105 from Nero’s interest
in music, to acting, to chariot-driving, the social status of each performance
art gets lower and lower, illuminating Nero’s deterioration. This grouping and
arranging of rubrics or text passages, which aims at unity, variety, and amplific-
ation, has been analysed as typical of Suetonius by Wolf Steidle.106 It is a prin-
cipal device of Suetonian deconstruction. Examples of amplification are not
confined to the macro-structure of the text. We also find them among the ele-
ments of a single rubric. The section on Nero’s libido (Ner. 28–29), for example,
involves several amplifications. It starts with some single cases (Ner. 28), which
are followed by Nero’s impudence in general (Ner. 29). The single cases in the
first part are carefully balanced: three representatives of social groups precede
three individuals. The three group-representatives present a climax, since the
punishment for each of the crimes mentioned gets higher and higher: Nero
seduced free-born boys, married women, and a Vestal virgin.107 Also, the follow-
ing three individual cases are in climactic order: the freedwoman Acte comes
before the eunuch Sporus and finally Nero’s mother Agrippina. The love for a
freedwoman is the least reproachable in this list, in which transforming a boy
into a woman and empress is outdone only by Nero’s desire for incest with his
own mother. The rubric ends by showing how Suetonius’ Nero transgresses his

105 Cf. Pausch 2013, 61 on the climactic order of the probra ac scelera section. On gradation
and crescendo as Suetonian techniques see also Cizek 1977, 118–134; Gascou 1984, 697–700.
106 Cf. Steidle ²1963, 80 on Iul. 26 ff. (“Prinzip der Summierung und überlegten Gruppier-
ung”) and Steidle ²1963, 81 on the Life of Caligula: “Sueton reiht also auch im einzelnen
nicht einfach aneinander, sondern schafft Zusammenhang und ist um Abwechslung und
Steigerung bemüht.” See also Steidle ²1963, 89 briefly on the Life of Nero.
107 For a ‘hierarchy’ of sexual reproaches cf. Krenkel 1980, 70.
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 315

libido into the animalistic world: in the game with Doryphorus he dresses up as
a wild beast and attacks the private parts of men and women who had been tied
to stakes. The climax is finally achieved by a general statement by Suetonius’
Nero himself, revealing his idea of humans as unchaste and impure altogether
(neminem hominem pudicum aut ulla corporis parte purum esse, Ner. 29).
For both Nero and Domitian the rubrics on crudelitas are structured accord-
ing to the rules of rhetorical amplification.108 The section on Nero’s crudel-
itas and saevitia (Ner. 33–38) starts with cruel conduct towards close family
members (Claudius, Britannicus, Agrippina, Domitia), including murders, in
chronological order (Ner. 33–34), then adds his wives, Octavia and Poppaea
Sabina, as well as Messalina, whom he did not kill, (Ner. 35.1–3), and finally
expands to all sorts of relatives and relations, including Antonia, Aulus Plau-
tius, Rufrius Scripinus, Tuscus, Seneca, Burrus, and freedmen (Ner. 35.4–5). The
death of Burrus is integrated into this rubric in a typically Suetonian way. We
have seen above that Tacitus presents two possible reasons for Burrus’ death—
illness or poison—only to refute the theory of Burrus’ illness, in Tacitus’ usual
way of dealing with alternatives (Tac. Ann. 14.51.1–2).109 In Cassius Dio we have
encountered Burrus’ death as part of a narrative development and a chain of
events that leads to Nero poisoning Burrus (Cass. Dio 62.13.1–3).110 In Suetonius,
Burrus’ death is simply an example of Nero’s cruelty. It follows the death of
Seneca, together with whom Burrus had educated Nero. And it serves as a link
to the freedmen who are mentioned next, since both Burrus and the freedmen
are said to have been killed by poison.
Another expansion of Nero’s crudelitas/saevitia is presented by his murders
of people outside his household (nec minore saevitia foris, Ner. 36.1), includ-
ing the whole aristocracy (nobilissimo cuique exitium destinavit, Ner. 36.1), and
the members of two conspiracies, the Pisonian conspiracy and the conspiracy
of Vinicianus (Ner. 36.2). A final amplification consists in Nero killing without
discrimination or restraint and for any reason (nullus posthac adhibitus dilectus
aut modus interimendi quoscumque libuisset quacumque de causa, Ner. 37.1).
Nero also wants to kill the whole senatorial order (Ner. 37.3). The Great Fire
of Rome is introduced, following these examples of cruelty, as directed against
the people and the city itself, in addition to the murders of the senators men-
tioned before: sed nec populo aut moenibus patriae pepercit (Ner. 38.1). In the
list of buildings that burnt down during the fire we can see that amplification

108 For the crescendo of structure in the rubric on Nero’s crudelitas cf. also Lounsbury 1991,
3753. On the invective background of topoi on Nero’s cruelty cf. Barton 1994, 55–56.
109 See p.140.
110 See p.223 on the persuasive order in this text passage.
316 chapter 10

is also operative in the climactic order of single elements too. The sentence
describing this destruction points out its massiveness in time and space. It
leads from the enormous number of regular apartment houses (tunc praeter
immensum numerum insularum) to the houses of old generals, including the
spoils of battles which had hitherto adorned them (domus priscorum ducum
arserunt hostilibus adhuc spoliis adornatae), to the temples of the gods, vowed
and dedicated by the kings and then in the Punic and Gallic wars (deorum-
que aedes ab regibus ac deinde Punicis et Gallicis bellis votae dedicataeque),
to everything that could be seen and remembered from the olden days (et
quidquid visendum atque memorabile ex antiquitate duraverat) (Ner. 38.2). This
sentence presents an amplification of the owners of the houses destroyed (reg-
ular people, old generals, gods), an amplification of the past that Suetonius’
Nero destroys (buildings of the present, older spoils, temples from the regal
period, everything from antiquitas), and a climax in the amounts, starting with
immensum numerum and finally leading to quidquid.
Domitian’s saevitia-rubric (Dom. 10–11), too, is structured to good effect and
displays the device of amplification.111 We can distinguish five parts with dif-
ferent emphases, which produce the effect of amplification. The rubric starts
with the aforementioned transition from the emperor’s virtutes, clementia and
abstinentia, to his vitia, saevitia and cupiditas (Dom. 10.1). Cruelty is considered
to be earlier (Dom. 10.1) and is discussed first (Dom. 10–11). It begins—parallel
to and in contrast with Vespasian’s clemency (Vesp. 13)—with three individual
cases that prove Domitian’s cruelty: a disciple of the pantomime Paris, Hermo-
genes of Tarsos (as well as his scribes), and an unknown father of a family. We
have already analysed the reasons for all three murders, which Suetonius calls
trivial, making the murders appear even more cruel.
Suetonius’ Domitian proves to be cruel not only towards these three indi-
viduals (Dom. 10.1) but also towards a whole group of senators (Dom. 10.2–4).
In expanding the people affected by his vice to a large number of Roman aristo-
crats, this part of the text displays a clear amplification. Suetonius mentions the
senators as a group at the beginning of this section (complures senatores) and
has ten individual cases follow. The fact that he gives their names—which he
rarely does in the Flavian Lives or the six last Lives112—and lists the reproaches
produces clarity and detail, which increases its plausibility. As in the first part
(Dom. 10.1) Suetonius unmasks the reasons of his Domitian. What is more,

111 See also Schulz 2018, 312–315. Cf. Galtier 2009, 90 on the rubric arrogantia in Domitian’s
Life (Dom. 12.3–13).
112 Cf. Konstan 2009, 461.
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 317

he adds evaluations which clearly express a distance from Domitian’s beha-

viour. We have seen them above as examples of direct evaluations: reasons are
unmasked as fake reasons (quasi molitores rerum novarum, Dom. 10.2) or gen-
erally termed extremely trifling (levissima … de causa, Dom. 10.2). Domitian’s
assessment of the suspiciousness of certain jokes of Aelius Lamia is rebuked as
wrong (Dom. 10.2). In this list, the senatorial victims of Domitian’s cruelty are
not given in the order of their assassination: the years of death of the people
listed are, following the order of the text 89, 93, 95, 93, 93, 91 CE, sometime
between 86 and 96 CE, 93CE, 93CE, and 89 CE.113 The order of these individual
cases offers rather a potpourri that shows various aspects of the cruel tyrant
Domitian. He figures as someone who is afraid of revolution and of rivals, who
acts haphazardly, is humourless, and intervenes against the honour and respect
awarded to people who are, in his opinion, not sufficiently in favour of the
imperial system.
The third part (Dom. 10.5) starts by giving a date and amplifies Domitian’s
cruelty. Sometime after the civil war (aliquanto post civilis belli victoriam)—
Suetonius is referring to the revolt of Saturninus in 88/89 CE—Domitian be-
came more cruel (saevior). There is no more explicit dating than this. But when
we look at the murders mentioned in the preceding passage we realize that
these murders should all have been listed in this part of the text, since they all
happened after 89 CE.114 By separating these murders from the preceding pas-
sage Suetonius in fact mentions them twice. Thus, they serve the amplification
pursued in the passage. Differently from the two first passages, Suetonius now
includes the methods that Domitian applied against his victims. Two kinds of
torture stand out: as briefly mentioned in the context of innovations above, he
burns the genitals of the people he interrogates, and he has the hands of some
cut off. This part of the text thus puts emphasis on the vivid depiction of phys-
ical cruelty.
The fourth part (Dom. 11.1) presents another amplification, since now a psy-
chological component is added to the physical one. Domitian’s cruelty is not
only vast—this has already been shown by the examples so far—but is also
insidious and unexpected (erat autem non solum magnae sed etiam callidae
inopinataeque saevitiae). As the two following examples illustrate, one could
never feel safe in one’s good relationship with Domitian. Domitian’s behaviour,

113 On the dates of death of these ten victims cf. Gascou 1984, 411–412. Cf. also Gascou 2001,
157–158 on the manipulation of chronology in this passage.
114 See Gascou 1984, 411–412. A single exception may be the murder of Sallustius Lucullus,
which can only be dated between 86 CE and 96 CE. But even if it took place before the
revolt of Saturninus, nine out of ten murders are still later than the revolt.
318 chapter 10

so Suetonius, could quickly change and suddenly become savage. The examples
of a steward and of Arrecinus Clemens illustrate this. The first enjoys the imper-
ial presence and a meal with the emperor on the very day before (pridie) his
crucifixion. The second learns from Domitian himself that his delator has an
audience the following day (cras). The reader is to understand that the signs of
praise and benevolence that Domitian shows may switch from one day to the
next (pridie; cras) and be transformed into cruelty.
The last part of the rubric on saevitia goes even further (Dom. 11.2–3): the
form of cruelty finally presented is a perversion of the virtue clementia. Just
when Domitian appears clement and gentle from the outside, this is, so Sueto-
nius, a clear indicator of a horrible outcome (ut non aliud iam certius atrocis
exitus signum esset quam principii lenitas, Dom. 11.2). The text here arrives at its
climax when clementia—of all virtues—is depicted as the precursor of saevitia.

3 Ambivalent Techniques and a Weaker Form of Deconstruction

3.1 The Virtues of Bad Emperors: In Favour of Eccentric Representation?

3.1.1 Good or Bad?—Undermining the Virtues of Bad Emperors
Even though we find several historiographical techniques of deconstruction in
Suetonius, and even though he applies some specific means of deconstruction
typical of his biographies, as we have seen in the previous sections, yet there
are some characteristics of Suetonius’ text that prevent deconstruction from
being as effective and being developed as fully as it is in the historiographical
texts. The characteristic feature of the text that, at first glance, weakens decon-
struction most clearly is the rubrics on the virtues of bad emperors: although
depicted with clear tyrannical traits by Suetonius, the three emperors Caligula,
Nero, and Domitian are nonetheless given an explicitly positive section on their
virtutes. But the virtues are in fact often undermined. In the previous sections
we have already come across several techniques of deconstruction that present
imperial behaviour as something negative, even when it is part of the virtutes-
section. With these techniques of denigration even in the positive rubrics, we
are forced to think of the virtutes as at least ambivalent rubrics. This is espe-
cially apparent in the case of Domitian: the first transitional statement in the
Life of Domitian already points out that even his positive phase was mixed with
faults (aliquamdiu se varium praestitit mixturaque aequabili vitiorum atque vir-
tutum, “for some time he showed himself as fickle, displaying an equal mixture
of faults and virtues”, Dom. 3.2).
The devices that undermine the virtues of emperors who are bad overall can
be summarized as follows:
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 319

(1) First of all, we have seen that the positive accounts are sometimes highly
selective. Many more positive things could have been said about Domitian’s
spectacula (Dom. 4), for example, which are praised in panegyrical literature;
on the topic of his opera (Dom. 5); or his expeditiones in Dom. 6.1.115 In some
instances, only the label of a rubric itself seems positive, but not the single ele-
ments it comprises.
(2) Second, even ostensibly positive deeds can be weakened by negative con-
notations or details. This applies to the behaviour of both Caligula and Nero
at the very beginning of their principate. Caligula’s reverence and honours for
his family are analysed as well-calculated performances (cf. scaena in Calig.
15.1) and as actions aimed at popularity (popularitas) with the people (Calig.
15.1–3). The fact that he freed those who had been condemned or exiled is
likewise explained by his wish for popularity (Calig. 15.4). The start of Nero’s
principate, although included in the positive section, is given a negative con-
notation (ob totius diei diritatem, Ner. 8). The section on Nero’s positive deeds
(Ner. 8–19.2) begins with Nero’s pietas (Ner. 9) and Nero’s Augustan virtues of li-
beralitas, clementia, and comitas (Ner. 10), which are all illustrated by examples.
However, in both sections Suetonius’ Nero is not said to have possessed these
virtues in reality, but merely to have made a show of them. Nero’s demonstra-
tion of pietas, especially as regards Claudius, is termed ostentatio (Ner. 9): the
expressions ostentatio (Ner. 9) and ostendere (Ner. 10) refer to exhibition and
display, and may even suggest simulation of these virtues. If the section was
really meant to praise Nero’s virtues, Suetonius should and could have been a
lot more positive.116
Domitian’s success as regards his games, his building endeavours, and his
military success is also diluted by giving negative details. His spectacula are
characterized as sumptuosa, expensive (Dom. 4.1).117 He is said to have rebuilt a
great number of splendid structures which had been destroyed by fire, probably
in 80 CE. But they are coded negatively when Suetonius claims that in recon-
structing buildings that were destroyed during the fire Domitian annihilated
the memoria of the original builders by putting his name only onto the build-

115 Cf. Jones 1996, 53; Bradley 1981, 133: “hostile bias against Domitian is so pervasive that
his favourable accomplishments are belittled throughout”. See also Bradley 1991, 3728 on
Suetonius diminishing Domitian’s achievements.
116 Because of the motif of ostentatio Mouchova 1968, 90–91 argues that the section Ner. 9–
13 does not yet present Nero’s neutral or positive deeds, but this is not in accordance with
the divisio in Ner. 19.3.
117 Cf. Jones 1996, 35 on Dom. 4.1 (spectacula assidue magnifica et sumptuosa edidit): “Sueto-
nius’ introduction is less than generous: he manages to summarize Domitian’s achieve-
ment in but three words, one of which is hostile.”
320 chapter 10

ings (sed omnia sub titulo tantum suo ac sine ulla pristini auctoris memoria, Dom.
5).118 Domitian’s rebuilding of the libraries after the fire is only mentioned at
the end of the biography after the depiction of his death, in the rather negative
section on personal details (Dom. 20), although it took place at the beginning
of his reign and would hence have fit well in Dom. 5. The two techniques of giv-
ing additional negative information and omitting potentially positive examples
work hand in hand, and resist the positive potential of a rubric on Domitian’s
buildings.
Furthermore, the campaign against the Chatti in 82/83CE is introduced as
unjustified (sponte in Chattos, Dom. 6.1). The double triumph against the Chatti
and the Dacians is belittled by saying that it followed battles of variable success,
both defeats and victories (varia proelia, Dom. 6.1), so Suetonius. Domitian’s
victory over the Sarmatians did not lead to a formal triumph, and Domitian
dedicated nothing but a laurel wreath to Jupiter Capitolinus (de Sarmatis lau-
ream modo Capitolino Iovi rettulit, Dom. 6.1). According to Suetonius, Domitian
was successful in winning the civil war (bellum civile) against L. Antonius Sat-
urninus in 89 CE, without being present himself and by an amazing stroke of
good fortune (confecit absens felicitate mira) (Dom. 6.2).
(3) The third device that undermines virtues is the lack of a supportive argu-
mentative structure in the text, which makes things appear less positive than
they potentially are. We have seen above the argumentative effect that a force-
ful rhetorical structure can exert. The ostensibly positive rubric on Domitian’s
administration (Dom. 7–9), for example, is not ordered in a way that would
reinforce the positives. Several positive elements of his reign and his adminis-
tration are mentioned, but they are not presented forcefully, for example with
amplification. This disorder is strategic: it keeps the potentially positive ele-
ments from forming a positive rubric, which is the more conspicuous since the
following rubric on saevitia is arranged to great rhetorical effect, as we have just
seen.119

118 This contention is not exactly in accord with our epigraphical evidence. Cf. Jones 1996,
51, who refers to the formula Domitianus … restituit, by which Domitian does not in fact
arrogate the original building to himself, but focuses only on the restoration process. Cf.
also Charles 2002, 35, more cautiously referring to the same passage and reading it as fore-
shadowing Domitian’s arrogantia: “We cannot be sure whether this is simply a malicious
accusation or a reflection of reality.”
119 I hence find insufficient the explanation of Jones 1996, 61–62, who speaks of Suetonius’
“disregard of his own guiding principles”, which “may have been intended to reflect his
view of Domitian’s behaviour”, and considers this “an indication of the hasty composition
evident elsewhere in this Vita”.
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 321

(4) Most importantly, the disposition of the text assigns more argumentative
force to the vitia, since they are placed second after the virtutes.120 The section
on negative deeds, which is also foreshadowed in the preceding sections and
is clearly longer than the positive accounts in the Lives of Caligula and Nero,
is therefore more prominent and is also what the readers keep more firmly in
mind.

3.1.2 Bad or Good?—The Vices of Good Emperors

Suetonius is indeed not as positive as he could be in these sections about
bad emperors. That he would have been able to present his material in the
virtutes-rubrics more positively becomes even more apparent when we con-
sider a complementary technique he applies in the Lives of his good emper-
ors.121 Not only is he, of course, more positive about their deeds. He even turns
their alleged vices into virtues. A good example of this technique is Suetonius’
recoding of Vespasian’s greed (Vesp. 16–19).122 pecuniae cupiditas was evidently
the only reproach possible against the first Flavian emperor.123 But the pas-
sage that Suetonius dedicates to this topic argues that this was in fact not a
real vitium. We can here observe a clear development and re-coding of the
motif of greed.124 At the beginning we hear that greed was the only thing Ves-
pasian was ever justly reproached for: sola est in qua merito culpetur pecuniae
cupiditas (Vesp. 16.1). His conduct and the comments of some people about
Vespasian’s natural character serve as proof (Vesp. 16.1–3). But this conten-
tion is soon confronted with an opposite opinion (sunt contra qui opinentur),
according to which Vespasian was forced to take these measures because of the
drained resources of the treasury and the imperial funds (Vesp. 16.3). This re-
coding is a rhetorical device: Suetonius here follows Quintilian (Inst. 4.2.77),
who recommends answering the reproach of greed (avaritia) by its interpret-

120 Plass has used the term “disappointed expectation” to refer to this structure in which
the positive deeds precede the negative ones (Plass 1988, 19); cf. Langlands 2014, 123. The
reader’s expectation is, however, only disappointed if he or she ignores all the hints that
foreshadow the vices; cf. p.311–313.
121 Cf. Schulz 2018, 320–322 on Vespasian’s and Titus’ vices in Suetonius.
122 Suetonius’ Vespasian had been depicted as not greedy already in Vesp. 4.3.
123 For this reproach cf. with Jones 2000, 91–93: Tact. Hist. 2.5; Plin. Pan. 41.3.
124 Cf. similarly Graf 1937, 95–101. Different is the interpretation of Murphy 1991, 3783, who
does not acknowledge a recoding of Vespasian’s avarice here. According to him, the posit-
ive evaluation of Vespasian’s treatment of the state’s finances is embedded in the context
of ‘avarice’: “But even Suetonius, while criticizing some of Vespasian’s methods, does have
to concede that Vespasian used the funds responsibly for the common good.” Krüpe 2007,
72 n. 85 reads “bei aller kritischen Wertschätzung eine beißende Verurteilung”.
322 chapter 10

ation as economy (parsimonia). The examples given of Vespasian’s pecuniae

cupiditas are, we learn in Suetonius’ account, in fact examples of a neces-
sary financial policy. The two different positions are weighed up and the con-
clusion is that the second is more probable: quod veri similius videtur (Vesp.
16.3). While Suetonius has shown so far that Vespasian’s saving measures were
not the result of his greed but of the political situation, he now even adds
examples of Vespasian’s generosity. Several exempla are given for his being libe-
ralissimus towards all social groups (Vesp. 17–19.1). But, even though Vespasian
is so liberal, the old bad reputation of greed still persists: et tamen ne sic quidem
pristina cupiditatis infamia caruit (Vesp. 19.1). Suetonius has now turned the
deserved reproach of greed (Vesp. 16.1) into an old and infamous piece of gos-
sip. The last examples he presents are termed examples of this infamia (Vesp.
19.2).
There is only one passage in the Lives that is even more explicit in judging
and re-coding apparent vices, tellingly in the biography of Suetonius’ favourite
princeps Titus. At the beginning of his short vita Titus is introduced as amor ac
deliciae generis humani (Tit. 1.1).125 This early and clear statement determines
how to read the rest of the Life. After birth and education (Tit. 1–2) Suetonius
depicts—very early compared to other biographies—Titus’ physical and men-
tal advantages (Tit. 3). Then there follows a chronological section each on his
career up to the principate (Tit. 4–6), his vitia (Tit. 7.1), and virtutes or posit-
ive deeds (Tit. 7.2–9), before the depiction of his death and reactions to it (Tit.
10–11). In Tit. 6 and Tit. 7.1 there are negative statements on Titus’ incivilitas,
saevitia, luxuria, his libido and love for Berenice, and his rapacitas. Suetonius
also mentions that Titus was called alius Nero, which provides a kind of sum-
mary and climax of this list of reproaches (Tit. 7.1). Titus’ faults are thus not
silenced or suppressed. The contention that this bad reputation turned into
something good, even to high praise, that one could find no fault in him but—
by contrast—only the highest virtues, follows quite suddenly: at illi ea fama pro
bono cessit conversaque est in maximas laudes neque vitio ullo reperto et contra
virtutibus summis (Tit. 7.1). Here in the transition from Titus the private person
to Titus the emperor the text clearly instructs us—without further argument—
how we are to read Titus’ vices, namely as faults of the private person Titus,
who got rid of them upon beginning his principate.126 Unlike his brother Domi-

125 In this Life biography and panegyric are particularly close, cf. Luck 1964, 64; Konstan 2009,
448.
126 For the lack of an explanation of this change in Titus’ behaviour see Luck 1964, 64–65, who
rightly observes a “merkwürdige Ambivalenz des Titusbildes” (Luck 1964, 75) for this part
of the biography, and Konstan 2009, 457. On the ambiguity of the image of Titus (and the
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 323

tian, who was still bad after his accession to power (Dom. 1.3), the start of Titus’
principate becomes the turning point for the behaviour of Titus’ Suetonius. To
illuminate this, Suetonius with great rhetorical effect contrasts the earlier vices
with their respective virtues. Instead of luxuria (Tit. 7.1) we read of moderate
dinners (Tit. 7.2). Berenice, to whom he is said to have promised marriage (Tit.
7.1), is expelled from Rome (Tit. 7.2).127 Instead of rapacitas (Tit. 7.1) we find
examples of munificentia and benivolentia (Tit. 7.3–8.1). In place of incivilitas
(Tit. 6.1) there are comitas and popularitas (Tit. 8.2).

3.1.3 Still Virtues

Even if the rubrics on virtues of bad emperors are not as positive as those of
good emperors, they are still there and draw attention to the fact that these
emperors cannot be considered exclusively bad.128 Yet we should not take that
for granted.129 A contemporary reader may well have been surprised by these
sections and the presence of some positive assessments of imperial represent-
ation. Although Suetonius draws an overall negative picture of Caligula, Nero,
and Domitian, as well as of Tiberius, he includes sections about their posit-
ive deeds in his Lives (Calig. 15–21; Ner. 8–19.2; Dom. 4–9; similarly Tib. 26–39),
sometimes even deeds that are coded negatively elsewhere, and he also applies
in positive contexts the same rhetorical techniques that are used to amplify
vices.130 His aim is obviously not to use the techniques of deconstruction to
paint a picture of these emperors as dark as possible.131

similarity of Suetonius’ Titus and Suetonius’ Augustus) cf. also Tatum 2014, 171; 174–177.
The distinction of Titus’ life into two parts, a licentious youth and a moderate principate,
is also present in Tacitus: laetam voluptatibus adulescentiam egit, suo quam patris imperio
moderatior (“he spent his youth in the delights of self-indulgence, but he was more mod-
erate in his own reign than in that of his father”, Tac. Hist. 2.2.1).
127 On Titus and Berenice see Wesch-Klein 2005, 168, who points out that Suetonius mentions
Titus’ separation from Berenice—differently from Cassius Dio—right after his accession
to power. This way Suetonius can directly contrast each vice with its opposing virtue.
128 Cf. Bradley 1991, 3725: “Suetonius has recognized that despite evil character, both Nero
and Domitian had been able to meet successfully some of the public responsibilities that
confronted all emperors”.
129 Cf. Pausch’s analysis of Nero as artist in Suetonius compared to Tacitus and Cassius Dio
(see Pausch 2013, 46): differently from the historiographers, Suetonius’ depiction does not
present Nero’s artistry as doomed to fail from the start.
130 We find, for example, the technique of generalizing from one (usually negative) example
(see p.307) also with regard to positive deeds: when Suetonius talks about candidates for
whom there was not yet room in the senate and who were hence given charge of legions
as compensation for the postponement and delay (Suet. Ner. 15.2), Suetonius seems to be
generalizing from a single case of the year 60CE; see Kierdorf 1992, 179.
131 Later, we find a similar mixture of (some) good and (prevailing) bad traits of Nero and
324 chapter 10

If we recall the officially positive aspects of Tiberius, Caligula, Nero, and

Domitian in Suetonius, the list is not short: the description of Tiberius’ early
principate (Tib. 26–37) includes examples of civilitas, humanitas, species liber-
tatis, and moderatio. In the account of Caligula, the focus is on his popularity
(Calig. 15–16), his consulships (Calig. 17), and his games, spectacles, and build-
ings (Calig. 18–21). Nero is praised for his virtues of pietas, liberalitas, clementia,
and comitas (Ner. 9–10), for several spectacula including the Iuvenalia, the Ner-
onia, and the reception of Tiridates in Rome (Ner. 11–13), for his consulships
(Ner. 14), several juridical and administrative acts, including building works
(Ner. 15–17), as well as for not extending the Empire and for his journeys (Ner.
18–19.2). Domitian’s rather positive deeds comprise his spectacula, including
feasts (Dom. 4), his public buildings (Dom. 5), his wars or war-like events (Dom.
6), and his administration (Dom. 7–9).
When we look at this list it is remarkable that some topics are part of the
positive section—even if they could have been presented more positively or
if they are later re-coded. The potential overstepping of normative and social
borders is not explicitly pointed out here. Suetonius is following panegyric
more than historiography when he presents the section on public entertain-
ment among the virtues of these emperors: the passage on Nero’s spectacula
(Ner. 11–13) picks up and illustrates Nero’s virtues of liberalitas and clementia
(Ner. 9–10). Suetonius lists several details here that are regarded as negative in
Tacitus and Cassius Dio:132 Suetonius’ Caligula has senators appear as chari-
oteers (Calig. 18.3); Suetonius’ Nero includes old men of consular rank and old
women of superior rank (senes quoque consulares anusque matronas) as parti-
cipants in his Iuvenalia (Ner. 11.1). Men and women from the two highest orders
participate in his ludi maximi (Ner. 11.2). Senators and knights take part in gla-
diatorial games (Ner. 12.1). Vestal virgins are among the spectators during the
athletic contests at the Neronia (Ner. 12.4). But their participation is never eval-
uated negatively and there are no hints that these emperors forced anyone to
take part in their performances.133 Even the often criticized Neronia, the games
established by Nero which carry his own name and in which he won several

Domitian, in particular at the beginnings of their reigns, in Aurelius Victor (Caes. 5.1–4;
11.3). See also Ps.-Aur. Vict. Caes. 5.1–4; 11.1–3.
132 See Devillers 2009, 62–63; 67; 69 on the difference between Suetonius and the histori-
ographers Tacitus and Cassius Dio as regards Nero’s games.
133 Likewise, in the positive description of Tiberius’ early reign there is a passage on the beha-
viour of women and young nobles that crosses accepted social and moral norms (Tib. 35).
But Tiberius is not held responsible for it. They are married women of noble families, who
prostitute their chastity, and young persons of the senatorial and equestrian order, who
voluntarily assume the status of the legally infamous; they are thereby trying to elude the
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 325

prizes, are mentioned here. Suetonius defends listing Tiridates’ visit to Rome
among Nero’s spectacula (non immerito inter spectacula, Ner. 13.1). He also men-
tions here that Nero was acclaimed “Imperator” for this (ob quae imperator
consalutatus) and that he closed the gates of the temple of Janus—as though,
to add a negative twist however, there were no war being waged (tamquam
nullo residuo bello) (Ner. 13.2). All this is included among Nero’s positive deeds.
Similarly, Nero’s poetic compositions, which are harshly criticized by Tacitus,
are evaluated positively by Suetonius: Nero is defended against the reproach
that he transcribed or took his poems from another’s dictation; Suetonius’ Nero
worked out his verses with thought and creativity (ut facile appareret non tral-
atos aut dictante aliquo exceptos sed plane quasi a cogitante atque generante ex-
aratos, “so it is shown clearly that his verses were not transcribed or taken from
another’s dictation but worked out with thought and creativity”, Ner. 52).134 The
whole rubric on Nero’s liberalis disciplinas (Ner. 52) is not negative.135
It is also remarkable, from a historiographical point of view, that Suetonius
lists Domitian’s spectacula (Dom. 4) among his positive deeds. This even in-
cludes alleged innovations (praeter sollemnes … cursus, Dom. 4.1) and some
typical panegyrical elements.136 Some aspects are harshly criticized and decon-
structed in other texts, such as his obstinacy in staying in the theatre (Dom.
4.2).137 His dating of the Saecular Games in the tradition of Augustus, not of
Claudius (Dom. 4.3), associates him implicitly and positively with the former.
Even his dress at the Capitoline games (sandals, a Greek toga, a golden crown
with the images of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva) is listed here, which might
have invited strategies of negative coding, such as ascribing foreignness and
the claim to divinity: certamini praesedit crepidatus purpureaque amictus toga
Graecanica, capite gestans coronam auream cum effigie Iovis ac Iunonis Miner-
vaeque (Dom. 4.4). If Suetonius mentions it here “to impress on his readers
Domitian’s travesty of normality”,138 we should not forget that it is still in the
context of Domitian’s more positive deeds. Even more striking than the inclu-
sion of spectacula among the virtues is the positive section on Domitianic
clementia (Dom. 9.1–3; cf. Dom. 10.1), a virtue that the last Flavian is certainly

ban on senatorial and equestrian performances on stage or in the arena. For historical
details cf. Lindsay 1995, 127.
134 Cf. Mart. 8.70.8 for a positive evaluation of Nero as poet.
135 On Nero’s artistry as a potentially positive element of his reign cf. Pausch 2013, 47–50.
136 For panegyrical texts on Domitian’s games see, e.g., Stat. Silv. 1.6.85–90; 1.6.53; Mart. Spect.
6; Mart. 5.49.8–9; Mart. 8.50.7–8 and p.69–70.
137 Cf. a different version of Domitian staying in the theatre in Cass. Dio 67.8.2–4 and p.215;
225.
138 Jones 1996, 45.
326 chapter 10

denied by Tacitus and Cassius Dio. His abstinentia is underlined twice when
Suetonius points out that there was scarcely any suspicion of greed or avarice
(cupiditatis quoque atque avaritiae vix suspicionem ullam, Dom. 9.1) and that he
gave firm evidence not only of self-restraint but even of liberality (non absti-
nentiae modo sed etiam liberalitatis experimenta, Dom. 9.1).
In such positive passages, imperial representation and actions are praised
or approved either directly or indirectly. Tiberius for example, at the begin-
ning of his principate, declines all sorts of honours that could be associated
with tyranny and accepts only a few modest ones: ex plurimis maximisque ho-
noribus praeter paucos et modicos non recepit (Tib. 26.1). Caligula is nullius non
boni exempli fautor (Calig. 16.4), the promoter of every good example. Suetonius
even defends Caligula against accusations that he took up his third consulship
because of pride or lack of care (superbia neglegentiave, Calig. 17.1). An indirect
way to praise these emperors’ behaviour is to show them acting in ways atyp-
ical of a tyrant. Suetonius is then drawing on (topoi of) tyrannical behaviour,
but shows an emperor who does not act that way. Thus Suetonius’ Caligula
allows the writings of Titus Labienus, Cremutius Cordus, and Cassius Severus,
which had been banned by senatorial decree, to become obtainable again, to be
owned, and to be read repeatedly (Calig. 16.1). Among the imperial actions that
are praised in these sections, there are actions that are explicitly described as
innovations and which therefore have great potential to attract criticism. Even
Caligula’s pontoon bridge is introduced as novum praeterea atque inauditum
genus spectaculi (Calig. 19). Suetonius discusses different reasons for this form
of representation, which are all rational and do not involve an interpretation
of Caligula as excessive or mad.
And Suetonius includes other, positive traditions about emperors in his work
which have not found the approval of the historians.139 His Nero does explicitly
receive a good funeral (Ner. 50). In his final death notice of Nero, Suetonius
states that there was great public joy (Ner. 57.1); however, he also admits that
Nero was still honoured by several people for a long time (et tamen non defu-
erunt qui per longum tempus vernis aestivisque floribus tumulum eius ornarent,
“and yet there were also people who for a long time would decorate his tomb
with spring and summer flowers”, Ner. 57.1), which makes Nero’s attempts at
popularitas (Ner. 53) appear not to have been in vain. Some decorated his tomb
with flowers, displayed statues of him on the rostra, posted his edicts (Ner. 57.1).

139 For another text presenting a positive image of Nero among the contemporary elite see
Alcock 1994, 107 on Plutarch (Mor. De sera 567F–568), where the gods are said to owe Nero
a kindness for his gift of freedom for Achaia. For positive Neronian traits in the treatise
see also Sansone 1993, 185 on Mor. De sera 563D.
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 327

Especially the Parthians were very fond of him (Ner. 57.2). The biography of
Nero thus ends describing groups of people who honoured Nero for several
years after his death. Even the biography of Germanicus at the beginning of
the Life of Caligula (Calig. 1–7), which contrasts Germanicus to Caligula, serves
as an explanation for a positive image of Caligula. At the beginning of his Life
we clearly feel the tradition of Caligula as the great hope, the son of Germani-
cus (Calig. 13; cf. also Calig. 9–10; 12.1; 14), who aims for popularitas (Calig. 15–16)
not least by honouring his dead father, mother, and brother.

3.2 Two Voices? On Structural Ambiguity

3.2.1 Reading against the Rubric
Not only does this depiction of the reactions to Nero’s death allow different
voices and attitudes about these bad—or ambivalent—emperors to be heard.
The people’s behaviour after Domitian’s death, too, is explicitly multifaceted
and differs between social groups, according to Suetonius: the people are indif-
ferent, the soldiers even want him to be deified, the senators are extremely
happy (Dom. 23).140 Such statements invite the reader to think of emperors like
Nero and Domitian as not merely bad. So far, we have read their biographies
as involving sections about them that are positive or at least ambiguous: not
only the negative sections, but also the rubrics on positive deeds have shown
the potential of deconstructing imperial representation. However, we have also
seen that the rubrics on negative deeds involve an ambiguous element: in order
to understand all the elements mentioned in the sections on vices as negative,
we have to assume a reader who accepts the premises and logic of the text.
If the reader accepts that the rubric on Domitian’s arrogantia (Dom. 12.3–13)
presents examples of arrogant behaviour, he or she will interpret the elements
of this rubric accordingly: the element x is an example of the vice y because
we read x in the rubric of y. Yet we have seen that in some cases, such as Domi-
tian’s behaviour towards Caenis and his claimed divinity, the deconstruction
of imperial representation is achieved by the context and the label of the rub-
ric rather than by the action depicted itself. The reader might be inclined not
to accept an element listed in a certain rubric as an example of the virtue or
vice under discussion. The reader would then not take Domitian’s behaviour
towards Caenis and his saying about his divine couch to be an example of
Domitian’s arrogance. Such a critical reading challenges the rubrics. While an
affirmative reading accepts the logic of the rubric, a critical reading questions

140 The difference in the reactions is underlined by the use of superlatives (Dom. 23.1), cf.
Mouchova 1968, 101.
328 chapter 10

whether the single elements presented are really suitable within this rubric,
under this headword. A reader may also switch between the affirmative and
the critical reading, and may even enjoy this tension.
A critical reading against the grain of a rubric is, to present another striking
example, encouraged at the end of or following the rubric on Nero’s crudeli-
tas (Ner. 33–38). We saw that the rubric on crudelitas is carefully arranged and
presents several amplifications, the climax of which is the Great Fire of Rome
(Ner. 38). However, this is not the last thing we hear about before Suetonius
comes to depict Nero’s last days (Ner. 40–49). Between these two sections there
is a passage that diminishes the impression of Nero’s crudelitas.141 It starts with
quaedam et fortuita (Ner. 39.1) and does not strictly belong to the rubric on
crudelitas, but is closely associated and connected with it. The beginning of
this passage suggests that we read it as its own section: it is marked as provid-
ing additional material (accesserunt) and comes full circle with the beginning
of the whole passage on Nero’s probra and scelera, picking up these headwords
(cf. Ner. 19.3) as mala and probra (accesserunt tantis ex principe malis probrisque
quaedam et fortuita, Ner. 39.1). The depiction of Nero’s misdeeds (ex principe),
we are told, is now over. What follows are evil events that Nero is not respons-
ible for, quaedam et fortuita, namely a plague, the revolt of Boudicca in Britain,
and the defeat at Rhandea (Ner. 39.1).
This passage (Ner. 39) is mainly about the public criticism directed against
Nero and how he dealt with it. Although the focus is on quips and pasquinades,
which are to give the reader an overview of the criticism of Nero, Suetonius
sets emphasis on the fact that Nero dealt relatively patiently and tolerantly
with people’s insults and mockery: mirum et vel praecipue notabile inter haec
fuerit nihil eum patientius quam maledicta et convicia hominum tulisse neque in
ullos leniorem quam qui se dictis aut carminibus lacessissent extitisse (“in this
situation it was striking and remarkable that Nero bore nothing with greater
patience than people’s insults and mockery, and indeed he was especially tol-
erant of those who had attacked him with quips and pasquinades”, Ner. 39.1).142
This is all the more surprising since the examples of insults given by Suetonius
and mentioned above refer to Nero’s matricide and the death of Claudius, his
representation as Apollo, the domus aurea, and his enmity towards the senate

141 Cf. Mouchova 1968, 93–96.

142 I therefore do not agree with Steidle ²1963, 90 who claims that Nero’s neglect makes
the misdeeds he is reproached for appear even greater: “Ebenso wirkungsvoll ist die
Gleichgültigkeit gegen Schmähungen an den Schluß dieses Teiles gestellt, denn die be-
sprochenen Greuel erhalten auf diese Weise einen noch schrecklicheren Charakter.”
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 329

(Ner. 39.2–3). At the end of this passage Suetonius gives two different explana-
tions for Nero’s relatively mild behaviour. The first is positive and speculates
that he was beyond all insults (vel contemptu omnis infamiae); the second,
less positively though still not in a merely negative way, sees the purpose in
avoiding the provocation of further witticisims by admitting his displeasure
(vel ne fatendo dolorem irritaret ingenia) as Nero’s driving motivation (Ner.
39.3).143 In any case, at least from the outward appearance, by staying calm
and by not regarding the insults and offence, Suetonius’ Nero does indeed fol-
low Seneca’s definition of a great mind in De clementia: magni autem animi
proprium est placidum esse tranquillumque et iniurias atque offensiones superne
despicere (“moreover, the peculiar marks of a great spirit are to be peace-
ful and composed, and to disregard loftily injustice and wrongs”, Sen. Clem.
1.5.5).
This passage (Ner. 39) hence presents a milder image of Nero before we hear
the circumstances of his death. It weakens the strong effect of the preceding
crudelitas-rubric and in fact of the whole section on Nero’s scelera (Ner. 26–38).
For a more negative picture of Nero, Suetonius could have placed this rubric at a
less crucial transitional point. With its position here it slightly counterbalances
and runs counter to the rubric of crudelitas. Two voices seem to overlap, one
speaking of a cruel Nero—much louder, of course—and the other of a milder
Nero. Suetonius gives us different attitudes towards Nero’s behaviour.144 There
is, of course, the strong tendency showing that Nero was a bad emperor, but this
tendency is not turned into a one-sided political credo. The reader is invited to
listen to another voice than the official one and to accept—and to enjoy—a
multifaceted literary image.

3.2.2 Ambiguous Topics

Another strategy that allows for different voices to be heard about emperors
and their imperial representation and which also concerns the structure of the

143 Mouchova 1968, 95–96 also argues that Suetonius highlights Nero’s patientia and lenitas
and that even if Nero’s reactions to these insults are not as positive as those of other
Suetonian emperors (Iul. 73; Aug. 55; 56; Tib. 28; 59; 66) they are still not totally negat-
ive.
144 I therefore agree with Alföldy 1980–1981, 385 that Suetonius gives us a picture of “wie die
Zeitgenossen das betrachtet haben, was gewesen ist”; this does not imply, however, that
Suetonius is a witness for the historian who asks “wie es in der Vergangenheit eigentlich
gewesen ist”. Pausch 2004, 317–318 points out that Suetonius does not transmit a fixed
image of an emperor to posterity: panegyrical literature cannot really be compared, and
invective passages in Suetonius are often cited out of context.
330 chapter 10

biographies is the ambiguous treatment of a topic, whether it be a topic as a

whole field or one specific event or act of an emperor.145 This is a truly rhetor-
ical technique.146
First, Suetonius sometimes treats topic-fields twice: the emperor is depic-
ted as acting positively in that field when it is mentioned the first time and
then as acting negatively when the topic is dealt with a second time. The same
field is then used for both praise and vituperation, and similar, comparable
sorts of action bring out the differences. We may look at three examples of
topics that are presented twice in the biographies: Nero’s conduct towards the
dead Claudius; Nero’s and Domitian’s treatment of inheritances; and Domi-
tian’s communication with the people.147
Nero’s treatment of the dead Claudius is first described among his posit-
ive deeds. Nero provides him with a most magnificent funeral, a eulogy, and
declares him a god: Claudium apparatissimo funere elatum laudavit et con-
secravit (Ner. 9).148 We learn later, in the section on Nero’s crudelitas, that he
insulted the dead Claudius (contumeliis mortuum insectatus est): in addition to
accusing him of being stupid and cruel, making jokes about him, disregarding
several of his decrees as though they had been made by someone completely
mad, as was mentioned above, Suetonius’ Nero provides only a low and insub-
stantial wall as the enclosure for the place where Claudius had been cremated
(Ner. 33.1).
For both Nero and Domitian their treatment of inheritances is listed both
among their positive and among their negative sections. On the one hand, Nero

145 Langlands has similarly interpreted Suetonius’ treatment of the contradictory tradition
about Augustus “incorporating both panegyric and critical elements” (Langlands 2014,
113). She argues that “Suetonius deliberately organizes the contradictory elements of this
tradition to tell us a rather poignant story about the great Augustus’ failure to control his
own exemplarity” (Langlands 2014, 113).
146 Cf. Lewis 1991, 3653, who speaks of a “quasi-judicial setting” consisting of “‘prosecution’”
and “ ‘defence’” and points out the closeness of Suetonius to the controversiae of rhetorical
schools (cf. Lewis 1991, 3669). Cizek 1977, 159–165 further associates the technique with the
philosophy of the New Academy. See also Cizek 1977, 197: “Suétone opère avec le doute,
réel ou feint, avec l’ idée qu’ il y a partout un côté bon et un côté mauvais et que seul le
dosage diffère à telle enseigne qu’ on aboutisse plutôt à des probabilités qu’à des certi-
tudes absolues.”
147 Lounsbury has shown that the motif of gold in the Life of Nero is ambiguous too. All the
references to gold before the first mention of the domus aurea refer to Nero’s prosperity
and are positive; those that follow signify decline and collapse (see Lounsbury 1991, 3757).
Suetonius picks up a motif that is purely positive in panegyrical literature (cf. Cordes 2017,
24–32) and turns it into an ambiguous topic.
148 On ostentatio weakening the positive aspects of Nero’s behaviour see p.319.
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 331

intervenes against the forgery of testaments (Ner. 17), on the other hand he
claims several inheritances (of ex-slaves who bore the name of any family to
whom he was related, of persons who had failed to recognize their obligations
to the emperor in their wills, of his aunt Domitia) for himself and the treasury
(Ner. 32.2; 34.5). Domitian’s treatment of inheritances serves as an example of
positive behaviour when—earlier in his reign—he did not accept inheritances
left to him by people who still had children (Dom. 9.2). It contrasts sharply with
the later statement that he seizes estates of complete strangers if someone can
be found who claims to have heard that the deceased had made the emperor
his heir, which serves as an example of Domitian’s cupiditas (Dom. 12.2).
Likewise, Domitian’s communication with the people in the theatre is at first
positive. They are given the opportunity to choose and ask for preferred pairs
of gladiators (ita semper interfuit ut populo potestatem faceret bina paria e suo
ludo postulandi eaque novissima aulico apparatu induceret, Dom. 4.1). This is in
stark contrast to Domitian’s famous order of silence, presented in the rubric of
arrogantia (tacere tantum modo iussit voce praeconis, Dom. 13.1), which shows
Domitian as forbidding communication and avoiding dialogue with the people
in an extreme way.149
Second, the very same imperial act can be coded both positively and neg-
atively.150 The negative re-coding is achieved through a new piece of informa-
tion, which is added to the first one. A quite simple strategy to re-code imper-
ial representation this way is to add the information that it was too expens-
ive. We have already seen that the relation of an emperor’s actions or beha-
viour with their costs is used as a strategy of negative coding. What is more,
this strategy is highly effective in re-coding a previously mentioned positive
imperial act. Finances seem to be a good starting point for postponed criti-
cism, since the reproach that something was too costly can easily be applied
to things that are generally and otherwise considered good. The reception of
Tiridates in Rome, for example, is listed under Nero’s positive deeds in the
context of his spectacles (Ner. 13.1–2), but also under negative aspects in the
rubric luxuria (Ner. 30.2), where it is characterized as too expensive. Domi-
tian’s public works (Dom. 5), games (Dom. 4.1–4), and increases to soldiers’
pay (Dom. 7.3) are mentioned as praiseworthy categories of Domitian’s reign,
but the three of them together are later criticized as the reason why Domi-
tian exhausted his funds: Domitianic cupiditas (Dom. 12.1–2) is presented as

149 For spectacles in the theatre as part of the emperor’s communication with his people cf.
Bradley 1981, 129–130; Devillers 2009, 61.
150 Cf. Gascou 1984, 360–390, who collects instances in which the same event is mentioned
twice within a biography or in different biographies.
332 chapter 10

resulting from their high expenses (exhaustus operum ac munerum inpensis sti-
pendioque, quod adiecerat, Dom. 12.1). So Suetonius makes use of one and the
same event or act to create both a positive and a negative evaluation. Domi-
tian’s games, for example, are, looking at the whole Life, neither good nor bad:
they are both at the same time. Depending on the perspective, one can point
out the positive aspects (Dom. 4; 5; 7.3) or the negative implications (Dom.
12.1). Suetonius evaluates the same event more than once and quite differ-
ently. This way of presenting a single event or topic twice dismembers it into
several parts, which produces the—often criticized—effect that the present-
ation does not maintain the chronology of events and that the same events
are mentioned more than once. The advantage of this style of presentation,
however, is that several voices can be heard distinctly about one and the same
event or topic. Suetonius thereby depicts at least partly the polyphony of atti-
tudes and opinions about imperial representation. In these cases, the focus is
more on the evaluations of an event or a topic and less on the event or topic
itself.
Another kind of new information about a formerly positively coded act or
behaviour by an emperor is to point out the negative motive of a seemingly
positive deed. This technique is applied to Nero’s buildings and to Domitian’s
edict concerning vines and vineyards: there is a short positive section on Nero’s
buildings within the city (Ner. 16.1). Nero’s constructions are coded as posit-
ive because they provide vantage points for fighting fires and because Nero
spends his own money on them. Suetonius is probably referring to buildings
erected after the Great Fire of 64CE.151 But both aspects are deconstructed
later when Nero is accused of setting this fire—the buildings provide his pre-
text to burn down Rome (quasi offensus deformitate veterum aedificiorum et
angustiis flexurisque vicorum, “as if he were upset by the ugliness of the old
buildings and the narrow and twisting streets”, Ner. 38.1)—, of luxury in his
building program (Ner. 31), and of avarice (Ner. 31). Domitian’s edict concern-
ing vines and vineyards, as mentioned before, is listed first among the positive
deeds (Dom. 7.2). At that point the reader does not yet learn the reason for
Domitian not persisting in enforcing the edict (nec exequi rem perseveravit),
the reason being in order to diminish the excessive devotion to viticulture and
to cut down vines (Dom. 7.2). We are given this reason only later in a passage
discussing Domitian’s growing fear before his death. The edict gets a negat-
ive twist there (Dom. 14.2) when Domitian is said to have renounced it above

151 Cf. Kierdorf 1992, 180.

strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 333

all because he was frightened by a pamphlet alluding to him as a goat which is

to be sacrificed to Bacchus.152
Besides later adding the costs or the emperor’s motives, an imperial action
can be re-coded negatively by reporting something that happened at the same
time.153 Thus Nero’s Isthmus project is listed among his positive deeds first (Ner.
19.2) with Nero himself being the first to strike the earth with his mattock and
carry off a basketful of earth on his shoulders. The project’s inauguration cere-
mony reappears in the rubric on Nero’s saevitia and crudelitas, where Nero is
reproached for expressing the wish that the project may turn out well for him-
self and the Roman people, without mentioning the senate (Ner. 37.3). This, as
we have already seen, is interpreted as hostility towards the senators. Similarly,
an additional piece of information about Domitian’s victory over Saturninus
in the civil war re-codes this event. The bellum civile is first mentioned in the
ostensibly positive rubric on Domitian’s military deeds (Dom. 6.2). The addi-
tional information we receive later in the rubric on Domitian’s saevitia is that
this civil war made him more cruel (Dom. 10.5).
When providing new information in one of these three ways—high ex-
penses, bad motives, negative simultaneous action—the new information does
not contradict the first piece of information given. It rather supplements it and
presents it in a new light suggested by the additional knowledge. Sometimes
Suetonius goes further and presents a new version of an event presented dif-
ferently before.154 For example, there are two versions of Titus’ death in the
Flavian Lives.155 They are part of two different Lives but very close to each other.
In the Life of Titus, Titus dies of a fever; Suetonius’ Domitian does not play a role
in the narrative (Tit. 10–11). By contrast, at the beginning of the Life of Domi-

152 On details of this edict, which was probably motivated more by moral than by economic
reasons cf. Jones 1996, 64–65.
153 A striking example is Caligula’s famous pontoon bridge across the bay of Baiae. Mentioned
among the rather positive deeds first (Calig. 19.1–3), as we have seen, it is taken up—with
explicit cross reference (Puteolis dedicatione pontis quem excogitatum ab eo significavimus,
…)—in the rubric on Caligula’s saevitia: we receive the additional information there that
he had several of the invited guests pushed into the sea (Calig. 32.1).
154 This technique has provoked the strongest criticism from history scholars, cf. Flach 1972,
278 on Calig. 15.4 (Suetonius’ Caligula burns the records on the cases against his mother
and his brothers so that no informer or witness would have to live in fear) and Calig. 30.2
(Suetonius’ Caligula only pretended to do so in order to make use of this material later).
Cf. Mouchova 1968, 70–71 on the same passages, who also argues that Suetonius chose two
different aspects or moments of the same story to achieve different effects in two different
contexts.
155 Cf. Gascou 1984, 384–386; Galtier 2009, 86–87, who compares the death of Titus to the
death of Domitian; Schulz 2018, 315–316.
334 chapter 10

tian we learn that Suetonius’ Domitian left Titus dying (Dom. 2.3). There is the
not-mentioning of Domitian in the Life of Titus on the one hand, and Domi-
tian’s failure to render assistance in the Life of Domitian on the other. These
two accounts are not exactly contradictory, but also not congruent.156 We will
probably understand them best if we think of their rhetorical effect on the
reader. Titus is Suetonius’ favourite emperor. When we recall that in antiquity
death was an image of life and that the depiction of death could illuminate
the essence of life in a condensed form,157 it is probable that Suetonius wanted
his favourite princeps Titus to receive a dignified end in his Lives. Any inter-
ference of Suetonius’ Domitian at the end of Titus’ Life would diminish Titus’
splendour. But Domitian is, in Suetonius’ view, one of the worst emperors. This
is already suggested, as we have seen, at the beginning of Domitian’s Life by
pointing out the tense relationship of Domitian with his brother Titus (Dom.
2.3). Domitian’s lack of help for the dying Titus here exemplifies his hatred for
his brother. The question whether an event or parts of that event are mentioned
in the text at all thus does not depend on the fact itself on which it is based
but on the literary effect of the context in which it is presented.158 A reader
who searches for historical truth may be unsatisfied with this literary feature.
But if the reader allows herself to be surprised during the reading process, she
may enjoy the fact that her image of certain emperors does not stay fixed but
changes.

3.3 ‘Lost Potential’: Missing Historiographical Strategies

We have seen that Suetonius has his own specific devices to deconstruct imper-
ial representation, which are often ambivalent, and that he shares techniques
with the historiographers. We can now round off the study of Suetonian tech-
niques by summarizing the historiographical strategies which Suetonius does
not fully apply in his biographies. Two prominent literary features of his text,
namely the focus on the emperor, which constantly keeps other figures in the
background, and the preference for rubrics over narrative sections, allow a
selective application of certain historiographical strategies, but not their full
development. This indicates a purpose in Suetonius different from histori-
ographical discourse.

156 Cf. also Suet. Tib. 73 to Calig. 12.2: while there are several versions of Tiberius’ death in the
Life of Tiberius, the Life of Caligula only mentions the version in which Caligula is respons-
ible for the death of Tiberius.
157 Cf. Gascou 1984, 385.
158 Cf. Mouchova 1968, 76; 106, who points out that such differing passages on the same event
serve the purpose of characterizing a person by showing different aspects of a personality.
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 335

To start with the first literary feature of the text, Suetonius’ interest in the
person of the emperor and not in his surroundings limits the use of three
important historiographical techniques.
(1) First, it allows much less scope for contrast with other figures.159 Corbulo,
so important for the Tacitean image of Nero, is hence omitted by Suetonius
completely.160 We do find the technique of contrast at the beginning of the
biographies, when Suetonius’ Domitian, as we saw, is distanced from Vespasian
and Titus (Dom. 1.3–2.3); the biography of Germanicus at the beginning of the
Life of Caligula contrasts with this emperor. But in the rest of the biographies,
contrasts of the emperor with other figures are not strategically used to evalu-
ate him. The emperor is to be understood through the rubrics and by his own
actions. The rubric section, though it is individually adapted to each emperor,
thus makes it harder to construct types of emperors and typologies.161 There is,
however, a connection between Suetonius’ Nero and Suetonius’ Caligula, and
between Suetonius’ Domitian and his Tiberius. Nero not only recalls Caligula
in his artistic and performance endeavours (Calig. 54–55). He is also directly
associated with Caligula early on in the biography, when his teacher Seneca
is said to have dreamt that he was educating a C. Caesar (Ner. 7.1). Suetonius
adds that Nero soon proved this dream to be true, giving the first examples
of his cruel nature (et fidem somnio Nero brevi fecit prodita immanitate naturae
quibus primum potuit experimentis, Ner. 7.1). Suetonius’ Nero, as was mentioned
before, also admires his uncle Caligula for his lavishness (Ner. 30.1). Suetonius’
Domitian recalls Tiberius implicitly, since they have in common a family policy
involving their wives, the emperor, and a Julia (Augustus’ and Titus’ daughter
respectively): they both love their wives but the emperor wants them to divorce
and to marry Julia instead (Tib. 7.2; Dom. 22).162 Suetonius’ Domitian is expli-
citly said to have read nothing but Tiberius’ notebooks and records (Dom. 20).
(2) The second consequence of the textual focus on the emperor is that
there is much less opportunity for focalizing other figures and depicting their
reactions or (negative) emotions towards the emperor.163 Suetonius does not

159 For the historiographical technique of contrasting the emperor with other figures see
p.63–64; 201–205.
160 I hence go further than Wallace-Hadrill, who explains the absence of Corbulo in the Life
of Nero by the irrelevance of the Armenian campaigns to Nero as an individual (Wallace-
Hadrill 1983, 16: “The total omission of Corbulo from the Nero is clearly justified by the
irrelevance of Armenian campaigns to Nero as an individual.”).
161 For typologies in Cassius Dio see p.249–254; 261–263.
162 See Jones 1996, 151 for this parallel between Domitian and Tiberius.
163 Townend 1967, 95 calls this focus on the emperor’s point of view alone, which determines
the perspective on the details of the narrative, “the law of biographical relevance”. For the
historiographical technique of focalization see p.121–123; 207–215.
336 chapter 10

focalize the emperor let alone other figures of his narrative, as historiograph-
ers do.164 While an emperor’s fear, as the emotion conventionally ascribed
to tyrants, is depicted quite often, emotions of other people are rarely heard
of.165 Also, people’s reactions to imperial representation are not often depic-
ted. Exceptions are the section on pasquinades on Nero (Ner. 39.2–3), which
mirrors people’s attitude towards him, and the depiction of people who want
to avoid Nero’s performances in theatre and jump off the wall or pretend to
be dead (Ner. 23.2). Senatorial reactions are rare and especially the topic of
the relationship between imperial honours and the senate is not developed in
Suetonius.166 Arising from this lack of emotions and of the reactions of other
figures, Suetonius’ text does not create a distinct atmosphere the way the his-
toriographical texts do.167 To give but one example, the story about the treasure
of Dido is used as a transition from the rubric of Nero’s luxuria to his avaritia
(Ner. 32) in Suetonius. In Tacitus’ Annals, the story features prominently at the
beginning of book 16 and illustrates Nero’s growing credulity and delusion (Tac.
Ann. 16.1–3). It there helps to bring out an atmosphere opposed to an aurea
aetas, in which Fortuna has turned against Nero (inlusit dehinc Neroni fortuna,
Tac. Ann. 16.1.1).168
The second predominant characteristic of Suetonius’ text, the rubric struc-
ture, undermines three major historiographical devices that are based on the
narrative structure of a text.
(1) First, since the elements in one rubric are not expected to be arranged
chronologically, Suetonius’ text cannot make effective use of the strategy of
building on breaks in temporal logic or manipulate chronology.169 We have
studied the playing with time in the rubric on Domitian’s cruelty.170 But such
instances are rare and only work in larger rubrics.
(2) A second historiographical feature that is not fully used by Suetonius and
that also concerns the relationship of time and text is the depiction of negat-
ive dynamics.171 Again, this device is applied only selectively in the Lives. It is

164 This is why, although Nero’s death narrative is written from his point of view, “Suetonius
refuses, as always, to enter into his character’s actual thoughts” (Townend 1967, 95).
165 On fear in Nero’s and Domitian’s death narratives see p.295–297. On Tiberius see Tib. 63–
66; on Claudius see Claud. 35–36.
166 On honours as forms of imperial representation in Suetonius see p.286.
167 See p.90–93; 245–248. Cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1983, 15 on Nero’s murder of Britannicus: “Sueto-
nius omits the scene-setting that gives Tacitus’ narrative its atmosphere”.
168 Cf. p.90–91.
169 For the construction of time and chronology as a means of deconstruction in histori-
ography see p.124–127; 222–224.
170 On p.317.
171 See p.92–93 for dynamics in Tacitus.
strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 337

best developed in the narrative sections such as the death narratives. We have
also studied the divisiones and transitional statements as not referring to struc-
ture only but also to a division of and development in time.172 Such a dynamic
division on the macro-level is explicit in Domitian’s case (Dom. 3.2; 10) and
suggested in Caligula’s case (Calig. 22.1).173 And there is foreshadowing, i.e. ref-
erences to later events174 and developments which to a certain degree highlight
the temporal structure of the text. However, within the rubrics, such dynamics
are not developed but are confined to single statements. So we are told in the
rubric on Domitian’s outward appearance that his body became worse just like
his character (Dom. 18.2). But this interesting parallelism and the dynamic it
implies are stated just once—in the appropriate rubric, on Domitian’s looks—
and it is not developed within the narrative: with another text structure the
reader could have learned gradually in the course of a narrative when which
part of his body deteriorated in what way.
There is one exception, which we have already hinted at: Suetonius sets
emphasis on the dynamic development of Nero’s interest in performances. Due
to the presentation of this interest in several different rubrics, he repeats it sev-
eral times. Nero’s love of music seems to go through several stages: Suetonius’
Nero was trained in music already in his childhood, among other disciplines
(inter ceteras disciplinas pueritiae tempore imbutus et musica, Ner. 20.1); he
listens to the lyre-player Terpnus every day late into the night; then he begins
little by little (paulatim) to study and practise himself, even applying profes-
sional voice exercise methods. His enthusiasm as an observer turns into active
performance. His voice stays thin and indistinct, but Nero is pleased by his pro-
gress (Ner. 20.1). And he desires to perform on stage, which he does for the
first time in Naples, a Greek city (Ner. 20.2–3). Afterwards, he even sings in
Rome and shifts the date of the Neronia (Ner. 21.1–2). There he finally makes
his performances a regular event (non cessavit identidem se publicare, 21.2). His
performances as a citharoedus increase in frequency and in the number and

172 On p.312.
173 The division in Calig. 22.1 is a structural division, not a temporal one. However, the
examples of Caligula’s popularitas in Calig. 15–16, the beginning of the section on Caligula’s
acceptable or good deeds, are—with one exception—all from the years 37/38CE. If the
reader is aware of this, he receives the impression that Caligula deteriorated relatively
soon after the start of his rule (cf. Steidle ²1963, 75: “Eindruck einer verhältnismäßig bald
einsetzenden Verschlechterung”). For a twofold division in the Life of Tiberius (first up to
the year 26, then Capri) see Döpp 1972, 453.
174 E.g. when we hear that Nero has melted down golden and silver statues that he took from
temples, among them the Roman Penates, we also learn that they were later restored by
Galba (Ner. 32.4).
338 chapter 10

range of their locations. Nero shows a similar development in the way he deals
with his passion for chariot-driving. He starts secretly, but then shows it openly
(primo clam, deinde propalam, Ner. 22.1; neque dissimulabat, Ner. 22.2). He talks
about games from his earliest youth and plays with ivory chariots at the begin-
ning of his reign (Ner. 22.1), then he wants to drive himself and be seen as a
charioteer more often (mox et ipse aurigare atque etiam spectari saepius voluit,
Nero 22.2). He finally expands his performances by transferring them to Greece
(Ner. 22.3). Suetonius has to repeat the same scheme—from hidden to open
performances, increasing frequency, finding new places for performances—
since the performances are presented in rubrics. They are taken up at the end of
Nero’s Life, where Suetonius’ Nero again expands his performance plans. People
expect him to act as wrestler, to try to equal Hercules in killing a lion (Ner. 53).
These plans of Nero are given in the section on his desire for popularitas. The
rubric also has a chronological element, when Suetonius states that near the
end of his life (sub exitu quidem vitae) Nero even wanted to perform as a dancer
(Ner. 54). Nero’s artistic forms of imperial representation are part of his probra,
the dynamic development of which is underlined.
The same gradual development is highlighted for Nero’s scelera, presenting
the five vices of petulantia, libido, luxuria, avaritia, and crudelitas (Ner. 26.1).
Suetonius reports an apparent development in Nero’s behaviour. At first he
exercised these vices only gradually and secretly, like the flaws typical of young
people (sensim quidem primo et occulte et velut iuvenili errore exercuit, Ner. 26.1).
But even then, so Suetonius, everyone should have realized that they were vices
of his nature and not of his age (sed ut tunc quoque dubium nemini foret naturae
illa vitia, non aetatis esse, Ner. 26.1). They get stronger (paulatim vero invales-
centibus vitiis) and, as mentioned above, he no longer cares to conceal what he
does and breaks into the open with worse crimes (Ner. 27.1).
(3) The repetition of the same structure of development illuminates how
Suetonius has to talk about the same dynamics (in music, chariot-driving,
crimes) several times because—and this is the third implication of the rubric
section—there is no master narrative as in historiography, which would show
the dynamic developments of the main points of criticism following chrono-
logy. In Nero’s case there is at least emphasis on his artistry, the main com-
ponent of the Neronian historiographical master narratives, although it is not
criticized thoroughly and completely as long as Nero does not plan to perform
as or even become a professional artist himself.175 The help he offers during and
after the Great Fire is coded negatively because it overlaps with the motif of his

175 Cf. Pausch 2013, 52–62 on this important distinction in Suetonius.

strategies of deconstruction in suetonius 339

artistry, which is integrated into the narrative (Ner. 38.3). But for Domitian the
deconstruction of his military endeavours, and (related to this) the presenta-
tion of simulatio as a trait of character and behaviour, which are default ele-
ments in the historiographical deconstruction, play only a minor role (Suet.
Dom. 2.2; 11.1–3).176 Both appear selectively but are not used to develop a neg-
ative master narrative.

176 As regards Domitianic topics, Suetonius does not mention Earinus, Domitian’s ten-year
consulship, or his perpetual censorship, which all feature in Cassius Dio (cf. Jones 1996,
xiii). According to Charles 2006, 86 Earinus is left out because the story was not negative
for Domitian. But see p.209 for a negative version in Cassius Dio.
 chapter 11

Deconstructed Elements and Miscellanism

1 Beyond Tacitus and Cassius Dio: Suetonian Deconstruction and the

Historiographical Discourse

We have seen in the previous chapter that Suetonius’ deconstruction, his way of
creating a negative picture of Nero and Domitian based on positive or neutral
interpretations, is, compared to the historiographical approach represented by
Tacitus and Cassius Dio, not fully developed. It creates various, multi-faceted
images of eccentric emperors and their imperial representation. These find-
ings about Suetonian deconstruction are closely connected with the question
of how political a work Suetonius’ Caesares is.
We have seen that Suetonius evaluates emperors according to certain morals
and values. To put it simply, virtues make a good emperor, vices a bad one.1 The
four most important virtues in Suetonius are “clemency, civility, liberality and
the restraint of luxury and lust”.2 Given this set of virtues Suetonius is neither
neutral nor indifferent; his work is not without moral categories altogether.
He has his own opinion about each emperor and his imperial representation,
which he communicates explicitly and implicitly, as we have seen. The reader
is not simply left alone to make sense of Suetonius’ account and to draw a con-
clusion himself.3 However, Suetonius’ (and the reader’s) opinion does not have
to be one-sided. Rather, it integrates different perspectives and voices, which
may create an ambivalent picture especially of emperors with eccentric forms
of representation. Such an evaluation is still building on explicit and implicit
ideological ideas about the Roman emperor.4 But it also diminishes the work’s
didactic force:5 it does not aim to persuade either its readers or an emperor how
to behave. Models of behaviour play only a subordinate role;6 and they do not
aim to educate the princeps. Just as the Caesares are not paraenetic, they are not

1 Cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1983, 145.

2 Wallace-Hadrill 1983, 152.
3 I am hence not following Townend 1967, 92–93; Ektor 1980; Sonnabend 2002, 176–177.
4 Cf. Steidle ²1963, 66–67.
5 Cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1983, 24; Bradley 1991, 3713: “Suetonius certainly makes extensive use of
moralistic categories, the virtues and vices of the emperors, but he makes no attempt to edu-
cate his audience in the familiar manner of the historian proper.”
6 Cf. Pausch 2004, 318, comparing Suetonius to Plutarch.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004407558_018

deconstructed elements and miscellanism 341

critical of the dynasty in power either. The attempt to detect subtle criticism of
Nerva and Hadrian in Suetonius has been rightly refuted.7
We can conclude that in Suetonius, deconstruction or deconstructed textual
elements appear in a de-politicized form. Suetonius and his way of deconstruc-
tion exhibit no political purpose and so differ clearly from a senatorial view-
point. Suetonius’ attitude in general and his view of imperial representation
is non-senatorial.8 This helps us to understand differences between Suetonius
and the historiographers in evaluating imperial representation,9 and ties in
well with the fact that in Suetonius the senate (and the people) are objects
of imperial actions and plans, but not depicted as agents taking the initiat-
ive themselves.10 Suetonius’ work is loyal to the principate.11 The ideal of the
principate of Trajan and Hadrian appears to be accepted,12 but Suetonius is
not an organ of their imperial ideology.13 Furthermore, Suetonius does not
aim to write philosophy of history.14 Instead of regretting that Suetonius was
not another Tacitus, some readers have even welcomed this different, non-
moralistic approach of the biographer.15

7 For an interpretation that detects criticism of the dynasty in power see e.g. Abramenko
1994. Explicitly against such interpretations are Gascou 1984, xiv; 676; 711; 771–773; Wardle
1998, 432–438; Jones 2002, 239. See also Baldwin 1983, 386 and Wallace-Hadrill 1983, 200
against specific allusions to the reign of Hadrian.
8 This does not have to be explained as a specifically equestrian view, however. Such explan-
ations (esp. by Della Corte 1958; Cizek 1977; Lambrecht, 1984, 157; 533) have rightly been
criticized e.g. by Wallace-Hadrill 1983, 74–78 and Lewis 1991, 3525: we do not know what
exactly it meant to be part of the ordo equester at Suetonius’ time, and an equestrian atti-
tude did not necessarily always have to be distinct from the elite as a whole.
9 E.g. Devillers 2009, 64–66 explains the difference between Suetonius’ ambiguous evalu-
ation of Nero’s games and the historiographers’ exclusively negative evaluation of them
on the basis of the latter’s senatorial viewpoint (Devillers 2009, 66): “Suétone ne partage
donc pas la perspective anti-impériale et sénatoriale qui anime Tacite et a influencé Dion
Cassius.”
10 Cf. Alföldy 1980–1981, 378, who, with regard to this role of the senate and people in
Suetonius, detects a difference between the Life of Caesar and the other Lives: “und
während Senat und Volk in der Caesarvita bei verschiedenen Handlungen die höchste
Autorität und Macht verkörpern, ergreifen sie später kaum andere Initiativen mehr als
zur Ehrung der Herrscher (…); vielmehr sind sie Objekte kaiserlicher Handlungen oder
Pläne”.
11 Cf. Bradley 1985, 265.
12 Cf. Lambrecht 1984, 81–82; 158.
13 Cf. Wilson 2003, 531. For example, Wilson sees “no Trajanic or Hadrianic propaganda to
account for the blacker tones of the portrait of Domitian” (Wilson 2003, 532).
14 Cf. Pausch 2004, 317.
15 Cf. Alföldy 1980–1981, 353, distinguishing Suetonius from Sallust and Tacitus: “Und schließ-
342 chapter 11

Suetonius and his manner of deconstructing imperial representation form

part of the historiographical discourse—he treats the same subject—but differ
from the works of Tacitus and Cassius Dio to a certain degree. I would finally
like to argue that these differences can be understood better by studying the
similarities that Suetonius’ Caesares exhibit with other branches of literature,
in which he goes beyond Tacitus and Cassius Dio: second-century miscellanism
and first-century encyclopaedism.

2 Between Pliny the Elder and Aulus Gellius: Suetonian

Deconstruction and the Non-historiographical Discourse

2.1 Miscellany Literature and Suetonius’ Second Century

To situate Suetonius’ deconstruction in the generic discourse of miscellany and
encyclopaedic literature, we will first define this sort of literature in general,
then focus on the second century as the peak of miscellany literature, and study
Suetonius’ relationship with it. We can then analyse three main features of mis-
cellany literature and their relation to Suetonian deconstruction: the ordering
of knowledge; active readers; and the combination of information and enter-
tainment. This analysis will be based on a broad perspective. To understand the
structure of Suetonius’ miscellanistic features in the Caesares he will be com-
pared to Pliny the Elder, who wrote about a generation before him and was the
uncle of his friend and supporter Pliny the Younger, and to Aulus Gellius, who
wrote around two generations later than Suetonius.16 Although Gellius draws
on both Pliny’s and Suetonius’ works (historiae naturalis … pratum, Gell. NA
praef. 8) I do not claim a linear, evolutionary development from Pliny the Elder
through Suetonius towards Aulus Gellius, and I am not looking for specific-
ally Hadrianic or Trajanic aspects of Suetonius’ work.17 The exact chronology
is less important than the intermediate position of Suetonius between these
two authors in generic terms, not just chronological ones. The comparison of

lich unterscheidet sich Sueton von den großen Historikern Roms wie Sallust oder Tacitus
geradezu wohltuend: Er ist kein pessimistischer Moralist oder moralisierender Pessimist.”
16 Already Funaioli 1931, 610 connected the two works: talking about anecdotes, legends, and
personal experience in Suetonius’ De viris illustribus he remarks that his work “steht im
Einklang mit dem Zeitgeschmack: man denke nur an ein Werk wie die Noctes Atticae des
Gellius”. On the dating of the Noctes Atticae see Holford-Strevens 2003, 16–21.
17 Cf. Bradley 1985, 258, who criticizes Wallace-Hadrill 1983 for focusing too much on Hadri-
anic elements in Suetonius and less on Trajanic aspects: “the tastes to which W.-H. looks in
evaluating the Caesares are those of the generation of Fronto and Gellius (…), a generation
well beyond the reign of Trajan”.
deconstructed elements and miscellanism 343

Suetonius’ Caesares with both miscellany and encyclopaedic literature allows

rather for a structural analysis that sets deconstruction and deconstructed ele-
ments of imperial representation in Suetonius into another context than the
historiographical one.
The genre of ‘miscellany literature’ or Buntschriftstellerei is a modern inven-
tion.18 It is closely related to the encyclopaedic genre. In their study of encyc-
lopaedism in the Roman Empire Jason König and Greg Woolf understand mis-
cellanistic literature as part of encyclopaedic literature.19 Encyclopaedism has
two extremes poles, one being single-subject treatises, the other being miscel-
laneous works. Single-subject works are, for example, Varro’s On agriculture and
works on universal history.20 Miscellaneous works are, for example, Gellius’
Noctes Atticae and a number of sympotic works such as Athenaeus’ Deipno-
sophists and Plutarch’s Sympotic questions. The exempla tradition, for example
Valerius Maximus’ Memorable deeds and sayings, is also related to miscellany
literature.21 In the middle of the spectrum König and Woolf locate encyclo-
paedic works in the stricter sense, such as Varro’s Antiquities, Celsus’ Arts, and
Pliny the Elder’s Naturalis historia.22 The concept of a broad spectrum with two
poles underlines that there are no clear-cut boundaries between the different
works.23 There is rather a set of shared features—approaches, claims, motifs,
ambitions, techniques—that all these otherwise various works have in com-
mon and that they use and manipulate to a greater or lesser degree.24 They
are all “linked in some way with the idea of comprehensive and systematic
knowledge-ordering”.25 From a sociological viewpoint they can all be under-
stood as responses to a growing world of books from the late Republic and early
Empire onwards.26

18 German scholarship introduced this term, inspired by Aelianus’ ποικίλη ἱστορία, cf. Bowie
1997, 850. It has been taken over by anglophone scholarship, which also uses the expres-
sions ‘miscellaneous’ or ‘miscellanistic literature’ as well as ‘miscellanies’ and ‘miscellan-
ism’.
19 See König/Woolf 2013.
20 Cf. König/Woolf 2013, 49–52. There has also been an increase in modern scholarship on
such ancient scholarly or technical literature, see, e.g., the volume edited by Horster/Reitz
2003 and the volume edited by Fögen 2005 with a focus on ancient technical literature on
medicine, grammar, and commentaries.
21 Cf. König/Woolf 2013, 52.
22 Cf. König/Woolf 2013, 37–44 for the middle of the spectrum.
23 Cf. König/Woolf 2013, 58. Gellius’ preface, for example, “resists any sharp separation
between ‘miscellanism’ and encyclopaedism” (König/Woolf 2013, 55).
24 Cf. König/Woolf 2013, 23; 49.
25 König/Woolf 2013, 23.
26 Cf. König/Woolf 2013, 29–37; 48.
344 chapter 11

If we try, however, to differentiate more clearly between encyclopaedic treat-

ises in a narrow sense and miscellanies, we could say that encyclopaedic works
“purport to offer a systematic and comprehensive account of the state of know-
ledge in a defined range of subjects”, whereas miscellanies “purport neither
comprehensiveness nor systematic arrangement, but rather present their read-
ers with a muddled series of isolated discussions of particular issues belonging
to a large variety of fields”.27 Suetonius’ Caesares may, then, be located some-
where in the middle between encyclopaedic works such as Pliny’s Naturalis
historia and miscellaneous compilations such as Gellius’ Noctes Atticae. But
before we focus on this intermediate position of the Caesares, we should char-
acterize Suetonius’ relationship with the miscellanistic discourses of his times
more generally.
Writing in the early second century Suetonius stood at the beginning of the
heyday of miscellanistic literature.28 He was deeply embedded in the imper-
ial bookworld, the fruitful basis for encyclopaedic and miscellaneous com-
pilations: Suetonius had three important imperial positions closely related to
the world of learning. Under Trajan and Hadrian he held the administrative
offices a studiis, a bibliothecis, and ab epistulis. He was hence responsible for
research on scientific and literary texts that the emperor needed in order to
take his decisions, for the supervision of the libraries in Rome, and for the
imperial correspondence, perhaps even for the emperor’s speeches.29 These
positions allowed him access to various books, documents, and letters, which
he was able to use for the composition not only of the Caesares, but also of
an encyclopaedic-miscellanistic work called Pratum (Meadow), the one cited
by Gellius (NA praef. 8). It has not survived; attempts to reconstruct it are
merely suggestions.30 Its precise encyclopaedic or miscellanistic character is
therefore impossible to define.31 Also the exact or even relative dating with ref-
erence to Suetonius’ other works necessarily remains an unsolved issue. But the
very existence of this multi-volume work and some titles of Suetonius’ works
which may have been part of the Pratum, such as On games, On the institution of
offices, On Rome and its customs, On physical defects, On names for clothes, Lives

27 Vardi 2004, 165–166.

28 An overview of miscellanistic literature in the second century (including Gellius) is pro-
vided by Steinmetz 1982, 275–291.
29 See Fein 1994, 159–162. On the difficulties of defining the tasks of these offices precisely
see Wallace-Hadrill 1983, 83.
30 See the edition of Reifferscheid 1860, and a new suggestion for a reconstruction by
Schmidt 1991.
31 Cf. König/Woolf 2013, 54: “It is unclear what claims, if any, it made to be comprehensive
or authoritative”.
deconstructed elements and miscellanism 345

of the courtesans,32 illuminate Suetonius’ interest in writing miscellanistic and

encyclopaedic literature. And Suetonius was not the only one to combine a his-
toriographical or biographical interest with miscellanistic and encyclopaedic
writings. Pliny the Elder, for example, not only wrote the Naturalis historia but
also the important Historia a fine Aufidi Bassi.33 Plutarch wrote moral biograph-
ies and sympotic miscellanies.
The following discussion of miscellanistic and encyclopaedic elements in
Suetonius builds on studies that have situated Suetonius in the literary and
social discourses of the second century more specifically. First, Suetonius’ work
has been characterized as that of a second-century scholar and antiquarian.34
Text features such as his interest in details and daily life, which are considered
typical of the antiquarian method, are also characteristic of miscellaneous liter-
ature.35 Second, Suetonius’ biographies have been analysed as testimony to the
interest in biographical information and so as part of the second-century dis-
course on learning and education. Dennis Pausch has shown that the second
century was eager to communicate biographical knowledge and to create lit-
erary images of personalities: Suetonius exhibits this interest, as do Pliny the
Younger and Aulus Gellius.36 Lives of illustrious men take on a function sim-
ilar to episodes and anecdotes about famous people in the exempla-tradition,
which associates Suetonius with authors such as Valerius Maximus and Velleius
Paterculus.37 They communicate knowledge and hence overlap with the fea-
tures of miscellanistic literature. Suetonius presents his knowledge in a schol-

32 Cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1983, 48 and Schmidt 1991, 3800. Schmidt 1991, 3821 gives the follow-
ing titles in his new reconstruction of twenty books of Pratum: De Roma (two books), De
genere vestium, De institutione officiorum, Historia ludicra (two books De spectaculis, one
book De lusibus puerorum), De anno Romanorum, De naturis rerum, De naturis animan-
tium, De regibus, De libris, De viris illustribus (two books De poetis, one book each of De
historicis, De oratoribus et philosophis, De grammaticis et rhetoribus), De notis.
33 A third similarity between Suetonius and Pliny the Elder is the praise of Titus, to whom
Pliny the Elder dedicates his Naturalis historia, written under Vespasian. Cf. also, more
generally, Wallace-Hadrill 1983, 28: Pliny the Elder and Suetonius both combine dedicated
service to the emperor and prolific literary output.
34 See e.g. Leo, 1901; Funaioli 1931, 614; Flach 1972, 287; Baldwin 1983; Wallace-Hadrill 1983, 46.
35 For example, Suetonius’ interest in the use of praenomina (Gnaeus and Lucius) in the
family of the Domitii (Suet. Ner. 1.2; Suetonius may be following a family history, see Kier-
dorf 1992, 155) illuminates Suetonius’ antiquarian method and interest, but could also be
found in a miscellaneous work, if we think e.g. of Gellius’ interest in family members and
relationships in De genere atque nominibus familiae Porciae (Gell. NA 13.20). Cf. the brief
family history of the Claudii at the beginning of the Life of Tiberius and Suetonius’ interest
in the praenomina used within the family (Tib. 1.2).
36 See Pausch 2004, e.g. 262; 266.
37 Cf. Pausch 2004, 171; 267.
346 chapter 11

arly, though not a strictly technical style.38 In the context of the stylistic trends
of the second century,39 he can be classified as a classicist.40

2.2 Ordering Knowledge

Encyclopaedic and miscellanistic literature share a specific method of collect-
ing, choosing, and presenting information:41 the narrator presents his work
as one that starts with extensive reading and note-taking. Based on his notes
and excerpts the author chooses which information he wants to share. These
isolated pieces of information, which are de-contextualized from their ori-
ginal content and fragmented, are then re-ordered and integrated into a new
structure. This structure is brought out by navigational aids such as tables of
content, chapter headings, and cross-references, and it is supported by a lucid
and simple style. Pliny the Elder and Gellius are very similar with regard to
the first step within this process of ordering knowledge, namely the gather-
ing of information. Both of them read extensively and draw on a rich basis of
books (Gell. NA praef. 2; Plin. HN praef. 20), from which they take excerpts.
But they differ in the way they then select and re-order their material. Pliny
has a subject, namely nature, whereas Gellius decides what he integrates into
his work not by topic, but by interest. While Pliny’s order follows distinct sub-
jects, Gellius claims to arrange his topics just in the way he comes across them.
He strives to avoid a perspicuous scheme.42 He points out his ordo fortuitus
and makes disparilitas and variety programmatic for his content and struc-
ture (Gell. NA praef. 2–3).43 Both authors draw attention to their structure and
make it clear by adding a table of contents and chapter headings or summar-
ies respectively.44 They are constantly present in their texts through authorial
interjections, cross-references, or references to themselves.45 The style is pur-

38 On Suetonius’ style cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1983, 19–22; Fry 2009; Damon 2014, 42–48.
39 See Steinmetz 1982, 28–30 on Quintilian’s (Ciceronian) classicism, the followers of Sene-
ca’s ‘modern style’, and archaism.
40 Cf. Leeman 1963, 366; Cizek 1977, 195; Pausch 2004, 263.
41 Cf. König/Woolf 2013, 36.
42 This does not mean, however, that the varietas is not artfully constructed, cf. Stein-
metz 1982, 281–287 and Vardi 2004, 170 for “deliberate disruption” in Gellius’ arrange-
ment.
43 Cf. König/Woolf 2013, 54; Pausch 2004, 154–155.
44 Even if we have to be careful and not read these lists of contents as if they were a modern
table of contents (see Doody 2010, 110–131 for Pliny’s summarium), such overviews cer-
tainly help the reader to find certain pieces of information.
45 Pliny underlines his authority on content and morals as well as his scientific ethos, cf.
Fögen 2009, 258.
deconstructed elements and miscellanism 347

posefully clear in Pliny the Elder (dilucide atque perspicue, HN 18.274) and more
elaborate than is typical of Roman scholarly works in Gellius.46
When we compare Suetonius to these techniques of ordering knowledge,
we can see that Suetonius collected his material in a similar way.47 Suetonius
reunites within his text, as encyclopaedists do, “materials otherwise scattered
through many others”.48 The author sometimes mentions his sources, espe-
cially the non-literary ones such as letters, hearsay, or his own experience.49
Thus Suetonius points out his own eyewitness status regarding an incident
concerning the Iudaicus fiscus that proves Domitian’s cupiditas (interfuisse me
adulescentulum memini, Dom. 12.2). He refers to himself when he mentions
the false Nero of 88/89 CE (adulescente me, Ner. 57.2). He cites his grandfather
as a source or as transmitting a source regarding Caligula’s pontoon bridge
(avum meum narrantem puer audiebam, Calig. 19.3); he cites elderly people
(a maioribus natu audiebam, Claud. 15.3) for the advocates’ abuse of Claudius’
patience; and his father (pater meus, Oth. 10.1) as a source for Otho’s attitude
towards civil war.50 Suetonius also points out that he himself read unpublished,
less official sources, for example letters (rescripsit his verbis, Ner. 23.1). When he
defends Nero’s compositions, which he decides not to deconstruct, as we have
seen, he reveals that he himself studied Nero’s own notebooks and writings in
the emperor’s own hand (Ner. 52).
The encyclopaedic and miscellanistic approach of excerpting strongly re-
sembles Suetonius’ Zettelkastenverfahren.51 The rational fashion of Suetonius’
structure and his way of presenting his material can be located somewhere
in the spectrum between the encyclopaedist and the miscellanist. Suetonius
itemizes knowledge too and gives a new structure to his particles of know-
ledge. The scholarly and the rhetorical approach here go hand in hand.52 His
method of re-contextualizing in rubrics information on a certain topic, namely

46 Pliny cares less about the perfection of his style, and more about general understanding,
cf. Nikitinski 1998, 355. For Gellius cf. Holford-Strevens 2003, 64.
47 Cf. Power 2014a, 12, who detects “some continuity in the methods of gathering inform-
ation for both his scholarly and biographical projects”, which further supports the close
connection between the Caesares and Suetonius’ encyclopaedic-miscellanistic works.
48 König/Woolf 2013, 35.
49 Cf. Stevenson 2004, 134–138 on the methods Suetonius shares with the antiquarians.
50 Duchêne 2016 has collected instances in which Suetonius draws attention to his own per-
sona. I do not agree, however, that these instances aim to construct the persona of an
authorial historian and that he “had the same subject, goals and method as ‘regular’ his-
torians” (Duchêne 2016, 272).
51 Cf. König/Woolf 2013, 45.
52 Cf. Lounsbury 1987, 21 about the opposition ‘rhetorician vs. scholar’ in general: “To recover
the rhetorician is not to dismiss the scholar. The two are not incompatible”.
348 chapter 11

emperors,—including deconstructed elements of imperial representation—

resembles Pliny the Elder more than Gellius. Pliny’s structure is clearer and
more analytical, Gellius’ structure is less discernible than Suetonius’. It is easier
to find a certain piece of information in Pliny, and more difficult to find it in Gel-
lius. In the surviving text, Suetonius does not set out a table of contents, as both
Pliny and Gellius do.53 But his rubrics, which recur in a certain, though not strict
order, with their headwords at the beginning, allow a convenient scanning of
the content.54 We can find the section on Nero’s crudelitas and Domitian’s opera
quite easily. Similarly to Gellius, such text entities can be associated with and
refer to each other.55 We can, for example, easily compare Nero’s crudelitas to
Domitian’s saevitia, emperors’ public forms of entertainment, or their death
scenes, as we have done in the previous sections. When we thus search the text
for answers to questions such as “How did Nero and Domitian die?”, “What was
the imperial representation of an emperor like in public spectacles?”, “How
arrogant was an emperor?”, the rubrics and narrative passages can be under-
stood as answers to implicit questions. When we read Suetonius’ text this way,
it also exhibits a relationship with the quaestiones literature, a genre that con-
sists of questions and answers, and which can also be considered part of the
encyclopaedic tradition.56

2.3 Active Readers

Encyclopaedic and miscellaneous works require an active reader, someone
who creatively makes use of the knowledge presented, who transfers it to
another setting, or adapts it for new intellectual purposes: the readers of such
works are “encouraged to engage with their contents by means of criticizing,
supplementing, expanding, adapting, and reconfiguring them”.57 We can, in
general, distinguish two aspects of such an active reading process. The first
refers to the relationship of a work to other works. The bulk of second-century
literature only came into being because there was already an enormous amount
of literature, which called for complementary or subsidiary works such as com-

53 Tables of contents in works that present knowledge had become more common and pop-
ular in the first century CE, see Pausch 2004, 68–69 and Bodel 2015, 28–36, and Gibson
2014, 38–55 and Bodel 2015, 23–28 for an index to the letters of Pliny the Younger.
54 Cf. Pausch 2004, 264.
55 Cf. Pausch 2004, 228.
56 See Oikonomopoulou 2013 on Plutarch’s surviving corpus of (originally thirteen) quaes-
tiones (Natural questions, Greek questions, Roman questions, Platonic questions, Sympotic
questions) as part of the encyclopaedic tradition.
57 Oikonomopoulou 2013, 153.
deconstructed elements and miscellanism 349

mentaries.58 The reader of encyclopaedic and miscellanistic works is invited to

use them as a starting point for actively consulting these other works.59 The
second aspect of active reading is confined to the work itself: encyclopaedic
and miscellanistic works can be read either consecutively or selectively. Pliny
the Elder and Gellius both require an active reader, but in different ways.60
Pliny the Elder’s reader may read parts on specific topics, which are easy to
find, but Pliny also tries to make things easier for a reader who wants to read
longer passages or the whole work.61 The work engages with the reader not
least in moral digressions.62 It is written for a Roman audience, by a layman
for other laypersons, who do not require any knowledge: humili vulgo scripta
sunt, agricolarum, opificum turbae, denique studiorum otiosis (“it was written
for the common herd, the mob of farmers and of artisans, and after them for
students who have nothing else to occupy their time”, Plin. HN praef. 6).63 Gel-
lius, by contrast, writes for a reader who already has some knowledge and who
wants to complement it and to make use of it in the right way (Gell. NA praef.
12–16).64 His reader is supposed to evaluate and contextualize correctly the
fragments of knowledge presented.65 Beate Beer has thoroughly analysed the
construction of Gellius’ implied reader in the preface to the Noctes Atticae.66
Since the narrator mostly does not comment on what he says and does not
evaluate his information explicitly, the reader has to get involved in his text:
he has to supplement the rest and make sense of what he reads.67 Beate Beer
describes this kind of strong reader demanded by the Noctes Atticae as a trait
of the Second Sophistic:68 he is ‘activated’ by intertextual references to Pliny’s
preface, by open-ended lists, and pieces of information that have to be supple-
mented, and by bringing together disparate text passages.

58 Cf. Pausch 2004, 333.

59 Cf. Oikonomopoulou 2013, 150: “A key characteristic of the ancient miscellanistic text is
that it looks outside itself to a larger sum of knowledge that can be explored and captured
in textual form”.
60 For Plutarch as an encyclopaedist who requires an active reader see Oikonomopoulou
2013, 151.
61 Cf. Nikitinski 1998, 353.
62 Cf. Nikitinski 1998, 352.
63 Cf. Nikitinski 1998, 345; 358; Fögen 2009, 214.
64 Cf. Pausch 2004, 160–161.
65 Cf. Pausch 2004, 155.
66 See Beer 2014.
67 Cf. Beer 2014, 51; 55.
68 Cf. Beer 2014, 64–68. She compares Gellius to Philostratus and his Eikones, “die den Leser
zur Hypothesenbildung über den Fortgang des Textes aktivieren und mit Blick auf den
Erzähler die Illusion einer Performanz eines Sprechers hervorrufen” (Beer 2014, 67).
350 chapter 11

We find similar strategies in Suetonius’ Caesares. Their implied active reader

shares some characteristics with Pliny’s and some with Gellius’ reader and is
somewhere in the middle between them, but closer to Gellius than to Pliny.69
Like Gellius’ reader, Suetonius’ reader is supposed to have some knowledge
of other works, especially of annalistic historiography, of Tacitus and Aufidius
Bassus as well as of Pliny the Elder.70 Suetonius’ Caesares are subsidiary liter-
ature in the sense that they assume an implied reader who has other works he
can consult when he searches for more thorough information.71 Writing “non-
history” Suetonius is not another Tacitus, but a supplement to Tacitus.72 So we
can suppose that a reader of the rubric on Domitian’s saevitia may compare
annalistic historiography for the dates of death of Domitian’s victims.73 And
the fragmentation of Nero’s journey to Greece will be understood differently
by a reader who has previously read a continuous account of this journey in
another work.74 As regards active reading only of the Caesares themselves, they
can of course be read consecutively.75 Such a reading has its advantages, espe-
cially since there is no table of contents: we have seen that sequential reading
provides the reader with an evaluation through disposition and order. Espe-
cially the ambiguous topics challenge the reader and invite her to ponder and to
think further.76 But a selective reading of Suetonius’ biographies is possible too,
thanks to the rubric structure and the headwords that provide orientation—
more than in Gellius, less than in Pliny.77 Such a reading associates Suetonius’
Caesares more closely with Velleius Paterculus and the collections of exem-

69 Konstan 2009, 460, too, argues that the reader has to engage with the text, to challenge
and to ponder it. Comparing Suetonius to Plutarch’s Vitae Parallelae he states: “Such an
active engagement with the text is all the more required in the case of Suetonius.”
70 Cf. Steidle 21963, 87 on Calig. 60; Flach 1972, 277; Pausch 2004, 32.
71 Cf. Pausch 2004, 227.
72 For the term “non-history” see Wallace-Hadrill 1983, 9.
73 See p.317 for the dates of death in this section.
74 See p.276–277 for the fragmentation of Nero’s journey to Greece in Suetonius.
75 Steidle seems to consider this as the only correct way of reading the Caesares; see Steidle
²1963, 73 on Calig. 12: “Die übrigen Versionen von Tiberius’ Tod sind hier nicht erzählt, was
sich daraus erklärt, daß die Viten nicht als Einzelstücke, sondern als zusammengehörige
Teile eines Ganzen gedacht sind. Aus Auslassungen bzw. Ergänzungen bei der Darstellung
gleicher Gegenstände in verschiedenen Viten geht das klar hervor.”
76 Cf. Stevenson 2004, 139 on the accumulation of several explanations as an antiquarian
trait: the “unwillingness to commit oneself to a particular view or explanation” and the
“accumulation of several explanations can be detected in Suetonius, Pliny, Verrius Flaccus,
Varro”. Enenkel 2003, 171, comparing the Life of Augustus to merely panegyrical literature
similarly argues that Suetonius’ ambivalent image of Augustus creates an interesting text
which makes the audience both enjoy and question it.
77 This is also pointed out by Pausch 2004, 263; 332–333; cf. Pausch 2013, 47.
deconstructed elements and miscellanism 351

pla, for example, of Valerius Maximus, which also invite selective reading.78 A
selective reading works best with an active reader who is aware that the pro-
cess of selection, which has produced the rubrics, is an evaluative process: the
reader can understand the product of this process better if he knows other
works and reads Suetonius as subsidiary literature. By aiming at such an act-
ive reader, Suetonius’ ideal audience must be similar to Gellius’: a broad but
educated audience, or an audience interested in knowledge and education—
elites and those who aspired to join them by learning something about Roman
history.79

2.4 Information and Entertainment

The reader of miscellanistic and encyclopaedic literature expects to receive not
only knowledge and education but also pleasure and entertainment. The texts
respond to the different interests of their readers, they disregard everything
that is canonical, and prefer rare, funny notices and stories.80 Both Pliny and
Gellius criticize mere school knowledge and a know-it-all-attitude.81 Pliny the
Elder points out the utility of his encyclopaedic work Historia naturalis in its
preface (utilitatem iuvandi, Plin. HN praef. 16).82 He refuses to integrate into
his work digressions and fantastic elements for entertainment (Plin. HN praef.
12).83 Much more than Pliny, Gellius links education and utility with entertain-
ment. He strives to present his knowledge in an entertaining form. Instead of
completeness Gellius offers “isolated facts and self-contained discussions that
should retain the reader’s interest by brevity and variety”.84 His varied order
(instead of a thematic structure) follows the aesthetic ideas of second-century
delectatio.85 This connection of (encyclopaedic, not strictly disciplinary) edu-
cation and pleasure is, again, a trait that points to the implied reader typical
of the Second Sophistic.86 The Gellian implied reader, who reads for relaxation
in his leisure (Gell. NA praef. 1), is intended to profit from the Noctes Atticae,
for the work “provides a preparation for the trials and tribulations of, at least,

78 Cf. Pausch 2004, 49.

79 Cf. Funaioli 1931, 622; Pausch 2004, 23.
80 The topics may still be connected to canonical elements, though, cf. Hose 2008, 185.
81 Cf. Beer 2014, 63.
82 Cf. Nikitinski 1998, 353; Fögen 2009, 206.
83 Cf. Fögen 2009, 209. Nikitinski 1998, 350 asserts, however, that Pliny’s work can be read for
entertainment too.
84 Holford-Strevens 2003, 29. For variety in Gellius see also Fitzgerald 2016, 187–195.
85 Cf. Pausch 2004, 157.
86 Cf. Beer 2014, 65; 67.
352 chapter 11

social, dinner-party chit-chat, if not public life”.87 The active reader learned
“from the text how to learn and display learning, and could use the varied
material of the text as the starting point for a coherent and comprehensive
vision of how to interact with the world and with the literary heritage of the
Greek and Roman past”.88 He had a role model in Gellius who presents him-
self as a successful example of a social career that is based mainly on cultural
competence and communication skills.89
With Gellius aiming at entertainment combined with education and Pliny
stressing the usefulness of what he does, Suetonius is, again, in the middle
between the miscellanist and the encyclopaedist, and, again, closer to the mis-
cellanist.90 Suetonius does not aim only to order knowledge, he also strives
to entertain his readers.91 He achieves this by applying some of the mechan-
isms typical of second century miscellanistic literature. Thus Suetonius shows
a strong interest in details. These may be trivia, which are not only important
for understanding someone’s character (cf. Plut. Alex. 2), but also for entertain-
ment. Some of the detailed pieces of information that he presents may seem
superfluous, which attracts the readers’ attention—an encyclopaedic trait.92
Or, the information given appears difficult to acquire, and hence precious. Like
encyclopaedic authors, Suetonius then presents himself “as heroic explorer (…)
of the bookworld, bringing back precious nuggets of information and organiz-
ing them in a rational fashion for the benefit of fellow Romans”.93 This responds
to the curiosity of the audience.94 Suetonius’ interest in Caligula’s birthplace
provides an example of this entertaining interest in details (Calig. 8). Simil-
arly, when he deconstructs Nero’s chariot-driving by telling us that, in Olympia,
Nero drove a ten-horse chariot, although he had himself reproached the king
Mithridates for this in one of his own songs (Ner. 24.2), he integrates into
his text an otherwise lost “precious nugget” of information that sheds lights

87 Stevenson 2004, 153.

88 König/Woolf 2013, 57.
89 Cf. Pausch 2004, 151–152.
90 However, entertainment was also one of the purposes of historiography, see Tac. Ann.
4.33.3 on the minimum oblectationis that Tacitus’ themes offer.
91 Entertainment as the main purpose of the Caesares has been suggested e.g. by Bradley
1985, 260: in his review of Baldwin 1983 and Wallace-Hadrill 1983 he remarks that sheer
entertainment should not be entirely rejected as the value of Suetonius’ Caesares, since
“the biographies are worth reading on the simple level of human interest”.
92 On things that seem superfluous in an encyclopaedic work and the reader’s attraction to
them cf. Nikitinski 1998, 357.
93 König/Woolf 2013, 45.
94 Cf. Pausch 2004, 320.
deconstructed elements and miscellanism 353

on Nero’s character. Suetonius presents such information in small pieces, as

encyclopaedic literature does.95 And he integrates narrative, stylistically pleas-
ing passages, especially anecdotes, which were a popular form of narrative in
the second century and which enhance the entertainment-value of the work.96
Such smaller narrative forms are also convenient to memorize and hence useful
for repetition.97
Suetonius considers this kind of memorable, entertaining knowledge to be
useful for his reader, as his focus on the reader’s present moment clearly indic-
ates. It is apparent in his several references to present times, on geographical
subjects, biological subjects, philological subjects, institutions, or laws.98 It also
shows in his interest in objects that link the past with the present. Objects
‘condense’ stories, they stand for and represent narratives, as does for example
Nero’s bracelet (aurea armilla, Ner. 6.4). Suetonius uses the object, the bracelet,
to expand the stories behind it. He integrates the aes depicting Nero citharoedus
into his text as an example of material remains that has survived down to his
own times at the end of the depiction of Nero’s trip to Greece (Ner. 25.2).99 The
image of Nero the artist is here ‘materialized’ in the statues and the coin depict-
ing him in this role and mentioned in the text. With regard to places Suetonius
almost writes a kind of imperial tourist guidebook: the reader learns of places
he can visit (e.g. Tit. 1.1), he even receives directions, for example to imperial
birthplaces.100 Occasions in which a second-century reader can display this
kind of learning are occasions in which general education matters—or every-
day situations in which he wants to elaborate on someone’s golden bracelet or
a place he passes. These are situations in which the reader himself is to become
an entertaining conversation partner:101 an informal discussion, a convivium,102
a public performance103 such as a declamation.104

95 Cf. Nikitinski 1998, 357 for encyclopaedic literature.

96 On anecdotes and smaller, pleasing pieces of narrative in the second century cf. Pausch
2004, 317; 331–332; on anecdotes contributing to entertainment cf. Pausch 2004, 228, and
Murphy 1991, 3791 for anecdotes in Suetonius’ Flavian Lives.
97 Cf. Pausch 2004, 274.
98 Cf. Abramenko 1994, 82–84.
99 The coin depicting Nero as citharoedus is said to have shown the same image as statues of
Nero singing to a cithara. The coins with this image that we know of were minted before
Nero’s journey to Greece (cf. Kierdorf 1992, 195). See also Pausch 2013, 60; Wolters/Ziegert
2014, 52–53; Cordes 2017, 128–129.
100 Cf. Wardle 1998, 427–428, who compares Suetonius to a “tourist guidebook”.
101 Cf. Pausch 2013, 71.
102 This is mirrored in Gellius’ descriptions of reading and intellectual conversation as forms
of dinner entertainment in his Noctes Atticae, see Johnson 2010, 127–129.
103 Cf. Pausch 2004, 329.
104 Cf. Beer 2014, 61.
354 chapter 11

Three textual elements that we have discussed in the context of Suetonian

deconstruction may have been suitable not only for entertainment but also for
such situations, in which the reader wanted to display his communication skills
and his knowledge: witty remarks, synchronicities, and the topic of memory.
(1) When we think of dinner-parties, eloquent talks or declamation, the witty
remarks that Suetonius likes to present may have been used in or adapted to a
specific situation. This applies, for example, to the joke about Sporus and Nero’s
father: if only Nero’s father had had a wife like Nero’s wife, namely a eunuch!
Then, we have to understand, Nero would not have existed (extatque cuiusdam
non inscius iocus bene agi potuisse cum rebus humanis, si Domitius pater talem
habuisset uxorem, Ner. 28.1). We can well imagine that this joke could be reused
with slight modifications for someone else who was fond of eunuchs. A creative
reader may use it as a model for adapted witty remarks of his own.
(2) Suetonius’ interest in synchronicity provides knowledge useful for smart
remarks too. Suetonius says, e.g., that Nero’s birth (Ner. 6.1) took place nine
months after Tiberius’ death, Claudius’ birth on the day when the first altar
for Augustus was erected (Claud. 2.1), Vespasian’s birth five years before Augus-
tus’ death (Vesp. 2.1), that Nero died on the same day of the year that he killed
Octavia (Ner. 57.1).105 The reader is invited to think of similar synchronicit-
ies regarding events relevant to his own situation and surroundings. Someone
who offers such surprising and entertaining pieces of information appears both
knowledgeable and witty.
(3) Finally, the motif of ‘memory’ and ‘the emperor destroying memory’
must have been a suitable conversation topic in the second century. Accord-
ing to Suetonius, Nero took part in several artistic competitions in Greece and
then tried to abolish the memory of other victors: he orders that their statues
and images be overturned, dragged by a hook, and thrown into the latrines (Ner.
24.1). Domitian, as we saw above, is depicted as destroying the memory of the
original builders of edifices that he rebuilds after a fire (sine ulla pristini auct-
oris memoria, Dom. 5). In a cultural context that was interested in preserving
and presenting memory, these Suetonian elements of deconstruction could be
used to display erudition and to entertain.106

105 For the Romans and their fascination with same-day synchronicities see, again, Feeney
2007, 158–160.
106 See Johnson 2010, 118–120 and Heusch 2011 on the relationship of memoria and Gellius’
Noctes Atticae.
Conclusion to Part 4

Suetonius’ biographical mode of deconstructing, of re-interpreting the imper-

ial representation of Nero and Domitian is distinct from Tacitus’ and Cassius
Dio’s. This mainly depends on the non-historiographical text structure of the
Caesares (chapter 9). Suetonius’ biographies are characterized by a mixture of
thematic rubrics and chronological passages, which influences the methods
of deconstruction (chapter 9.1). Rubrics partly overlap with topics of imperial
representation, i.e. topics that are used by the emperor and others to create a
certain image of him, or present virtues and vices of emperors. Within the non-
temporal rubrics, elements of imperial representation, an emperor’s actions,
and events appear in a fragmented and re-contextualized form (chapter 9.2).
Suetonius’ rubrics mainly determine his strategies of deconstruction, which
can be distinguished into three different groups: historiographical techniques
(as applied by Tacitus and Cassius Dio), typically Suetonian techniques, and
ambivalent techniques (chapter 10). First, Suetonius shares several techniques
of deconstruction of imperial representation with the historiographical dis-
course. ‘Deconstruction’ is for that reason still a valid term even for the bio-
grapher’s work. He has the same focus on Nero’s artistry and Domitian’s arrog-
ance. He also clearly points out their transgressions, and codes certain aspects
of imperial representation and behaviour as negative: they feature as mad,
unmanly, foreign, not funny, too expensive; the reasons explaining imperial
representation appear as wrong, inappropriate and trivial, and as only person-
ally motivated; imperial behaviour and representation are depicted as anti-
social. In the narrative sections on Nero’s and Domitian’s deaths, the struc-
ture of which is closer to historiography, Suetonius picks up motifs from his
rubrics and integrates them into a coherent narrative, in which space is used
to illuminate each emperor’s character (chapter 10.1). Second, the effect of
the rubric structure becomes apparent in particular in a set of techniques
that are typical of Suetonius, i.e., which are applied by him more often, more
intensely or exclusively compared to the historiographical discourse. In this
sense, Suetonius further develops the strategies of deconstruction. These
Suetonian techniques of deconstruction include the suggestion of structural
points of comparison between two or more emperors, the coding through
rubrics, their disposition, and the device of amplification: the rubrics invite
the reader to compare emperors with regard to specific elements and topics
of their reign, for example their military projects, their physical appearance,
their crudelitas. Rubrics code the elements they present by labelling them with
biased headwords and by partially selecting (and omitting) suitable elements.

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356 conclusion to part 4

Both the order of the elements within a rubric and the disposition of several
rubrics guide and influence the reader. The text is carefully structured, to which
explicit divisions draw attention, so as to assess the single textual elements
(both items within a rubric and rubrics as a whole) and to lend unity to the
parts and the whole of a Life. Devices of amplification and crescendo, again
both within the rubric and in a group of rubrics, support Suetonius’ statements
about imperial representation (chapter 10.2). Third, based on this analysis some
techniques in Suetonius are to be described as ambivalent and no longer as ‘his-
toriographical strategies’: they do not allow for a fuller form of deconstruction
in the way we find it in Tacitus and even more in Cassius Dio. The most obvious
device for creating ambivalence is the inclusion of the virtues of bad emperors
in their biographies. These virtues are often undermined and made less prom-
inent than the vices—just as vices of good emperors are marginalized or legit-
imized. But the rubrics on virtutes still draw attention to the positive elements
of Nero’s and Domitian’s reigns and representations. In fact, we are presented
with two voices on Nero and Domitian, one proclaiming they were bad emper-
ors, and one admitting positive traits. Once the reader accepts the latter voice
he or she may even read some elements of imperial behaviour and represent-
ation included in a negative rubric critically against this rubric. In Suetonius,
the critical and the affirmative discourse are much closer to one another than
in Tacitus and Cassius Dio. It adds to this ambivalence that topics which fea-
ture in two rubrics or passages may be dealt with from different perspectives
and be framed in diverse ways. We can, finally, see that deconstruction is not
played out to the fullest in Suetonius by noting the historiographical strategies
that do not occur in his biographies. Contingent upon the literary features of
the Caesares we largely lack contrasts with non-imperial figures and (embed-
ded) focalization, as well as the textual creation of an imperial atmosphere. The
(non-temporal) rubric system gives less opportunity for effective manipulation
of chronology within a narrative, for the depiction of dynamic developments,
and for the creation of master narratives, in particular concerning Domitian
(chapter 10.3).
This mixture of strategies argues for a reading of Suetonius as a thoughtful
but apolitical writer who picks up deconstructed elements of imperial repres-
entation and integrates them into a text that aims at instruction and enter-
tainment (chapter 11). Elements of imperial representation appear in a de-
politicized form, compared to Tacitus and Cassius Dio (chapter 11.1). Suetonius’
mode of deconstruction rather shares several literary features with the mis-
cellany and encyclopaedic literature of the first and second century CE. The
Caesares and their mode of deconstruction can be positioned between the
works of Pliny the Elder and Aulus Gellius, an encyclopaedic and a miscel-
conclusion to part 4 357

lanistic author, as regards three central features of encyclopaedic-miscellany

literature. First, like these authors, Suetonius participates in a discourse about
ordering knowledge; his strategies of collecting, selecting, and presenting items
of knowledge are similar to those of the encyclopaedist and the miscellan-
ist. Second, comparable to Pliny the Elder and even more to Aulus Gellius,
Suetonius’ implied reader is an active recipient of the information he is given.
He can, third, make use of this information also for purposes of educated enter-
tainment in the context of social events such as the convivium (chapter 11.2).
 part 5
Conclusion

∵
Three Modes of Deconstruction

This study has analysed the literary images of Nero and Domitian in Tacitus’
Annals (as well as his Agricola and Histories), Cassius Dio’s Roman History,
and Suetonius’ Caesares. It argues that these three text corpora deconstruct
the imperial representation of Nero and Domitian in three different modes,
i.e. they re-shape their imperial images to negative effect, reacting to posit-
ive or neutral interpretations in three distinct ways. Tacitus, Cassius Dio, and
Suetonius all take part in the negotiations over the memory of the last Julio-
Claudian and the last Flavian emperor: while the literature during their lifetime
developed panegyrical motifs about their imperial representation, the critical
literature after their death deconstructs these positive depictions and creates
negative images. I understand these two distinct ways of speaking about Nero
and Domitian as part of two different discourses (and not as directly represent-
ing historical ‘facts’): an affirmative discourse, which is prevalent while these
emperors still lived, and a critical discourse that is dominant post mortem.
Panegyric is the main literary medium of the affirmative discourse, as histori-
ography is of the critical discourse. Pragmatic discourse analysis is thus the
overarching theory at the heart of this study.1 The literary quality of each work
has been characterized by analysing the rhetorical strategies of the text and the
narratological devices applied, which are all conceived as forming part of the
process of deconstruction. Additionally, I have drawn on theories about the cre-
ation of uncertainty or ambiguity in texts and on the interpretative approaches
taken in memory studies.
We can conclude that Tacitus, Cassius Dio, and Suetonius share several lit-
erary strategies when they deconstruct the imperial representation of Nero
and Domitian, i.e. the way they showed themselves as emperors and the way
they were depicted by others as emperors in different media and in differ-
ent areas such as military actions, building programmes, and divinity. But in
applying these strategies the three authors achieve different effects. We can
distinguish three modes of deconstruction.2 Cassius Dio presents the most
complete form of deconstruction of imperial representation: he uses all the
strategies available, applies them most often, and does not doubt or relativ-

1 See p.38–39.
2 Individual summaries of the results drawn from the analysis of each author are provided on
p.164–166; 264–265; 355–357.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004407558_020

362 three modes of deconstruction

ize them.3 We have seen, for example, that the metaphor of the emperor’s
role-playing, the reproach that the emperor does things that he himself offi-
cially forbids, and the combination of the techniques of focalization with those
of gendering and ethnicizing are most important in Dio. Among the extant
Roman historiographical-biographical texts, his version of Nero and Domitian
is the most negative. Dio’s pervasive use of strategies of deconstruction cre-
ates typologies of bad emperors that lead from the early imperial period to his
own times. His mode of deconstruction is closely intertwined with the socio-
political discourses under the Severans: Dio’s typologies offer an alternative,
opposing reading to the genealogies claimed by the Severans, which were an
important part of their own imperial representation.
Tacitus’ mode of deconstruction is not characterized by the same complete-
ness and trust in the strategies applied. It is, rather, accompanied by the effect of
uncertainty: just like other literary principles and mechanisms in Tacitus, tech-
niques of deconstruction too are often destabilized and challenged. Nero and
Domitian are clearly negative figures in Tacitus too, but the Tacitean strategies
that create uncertainty prevent the effect of ‘closure’ that one experiences
when reading Cassius Dio. The active reader is rather invited to construct and
question his interpretations of the events and the forms of imperial representa-
tion depicted. Compared to Cassius Dio and Tacitus, Suetonius’ mode of decon-
struction is unpolitical. It informs and entertains at the same time, including
explicitly positive material on the two emperors, notwithstanding their overall
assessment as bad. Suetonius draws on several historiographical strategies, but
not on all of them. And he combines them with strategies characteristic of his
biographical text structure, which makes the text ambivalent. The biographer
presents deconstructed elements of imperial representation in a textual form
in which they are fragmented and re-contextualized. This kind of presenta-
tion is closely connected to other literary discourses, such as the itemizing and
ordering of knowledge, and the combining of information and entertainment.
To illustrate how these three modes and the strategies of deconstruction are
applied differently in Cassius Dio, Tacitus, and Suetonius, we may study the
narrative function of the rain at Britannicus’ funeral in the three texts. Cassius
Dio makes most use of the rain to deconstruct Nero’s behaviour and actions. He
contends that Nero murdered Britannicus by means of poison (τὸν δὲ Βρεττα-
νικὸν φαρμάκῳ δολοφονήσας ὁ Νέρων) and that, when Britannicus’ skin became

3 For equally negative depictions of Nero and Domitian see Eutropius (Eutr. 7.14; 7.23) and
Orosius (Oros. 7.7.1–13; 7.10.1–7).
three modes of deconstruction 363

discoloured due to the poison, he smeared it with gypsum (ἐπειδὴ πελιδνὸς ὑπὸ
τοῦ φαρμάκου ἐγενήθη, γύψῳ ἔχρισεν) (Cass. Dio 61.7.4). When Britannicus’ dead
body was carried through the Forum a heavy rain occurred, which washed the
gypsum off while it was still moist (ὑετὸς δὲ διὰ τῆς ἀγορᾶς αὐτοῦ διαγομένου
πολύς, ὑγρᾶς ἔτι οὔσης τῆς γύψου, ἐπιπεσὼν πᾶσαν αὐτὴν ἀπέκλυσεν, Cass. Dio
61.7.4). Dio here assigns a narrative function to the rain: it clearly reveals and
literally de-tects Nero’s crime. The rain provides new evidence for what people
thought already: thanks to the rain, Nero’s crime was known not only by what
people heard, but now also by what they saw (ὥστε τὸ δεινὸν μὴ μόνον ἀκούεσθαι
ἀλλὰ καὶ ὁρᾶσθαι, 61.7.4). Cassius Dio makes full use of the narrative element
of the rain as clearly deconstructing both Nero’s behaviour and any alternative
(official) version that claimed Britannicus had died a natural death.
In Tacitus, the rain at Britannicus’ funeral does not reveal Nero’s crime. The
Tacitean Nero does not smear Britannicus’ poisoned body with gypsum to con-
ceal his murder, but he is still depicted as clearly responsible for the crime
(Tac. Ann. 13.16.1–4). Tacitus’ Nero organizes a modest funeral, for which the
preparations had already been made, in the same night that he has Britanni-
cus killed (nox eadem necem Britannici et rogum coniunxit, proviso ante funebri
paratu, qui modicus fuit, Tac. Ann. 13.17.1). We are told that he was buried in
the Campus Martius and that there were violent rainstorms. In fact, these rain-
storms were so violent that the people believed they were a sign of the wrath of
the gods against Nero’s crime (adeo turbidis imbribus, ut vulgus iram deum por-
tendi crediderit adversus facinus, Tac. Ann. 13.17.1). Whereas Dio’s version of the
rain focuses on (scientific) proof, Tacitus’ version creates a dark atmosphere in
which people have to cite the anger of the gods to explain what is happening.
Thus far, it seems apparent that the crime of Tacitus’ Nero, although not exactly
provable, is detested even by the gods. However, this certainty about the inter-
pretation of the murder of Britannicus is, in a typically Tacitean twist, destabil-
ized by an additional qualification of the facinus. The fratricide was a crime,
we learn, that even many people could forgive, when they took into account
the ancient disunions between brothers, and the indivisibility of monarch-
ical power ( facinus, cui plerique etiam hominum ignoscebant, antiquas fratrum
discordias et insociabile regnum aestimantes, Tac. Ann. 13.17.1). The deconstruc-
tion of Nero’s fratricide by means of the rain as revealing the gods’ wrath to
the people is accompanied by the uncertainty about this very interpretation,
brought about by a general human understanding of the rivalry and murder of
brothers.
We find several of these historiographical elements in Suetonius, includ-
ing the rain at the funeral. But the biographer uses the rain rather to inform,
in line with the rubric that presents it. Suetonius treats Britannicus’ murder
364 three modes of deconstruction

and funeral under crudelitas/saevitia (Suet. Ner. 33–38), after Nero’s conduct
towards Claudius and before the matricide. We are reading it as an example of
Nero’s cruelty when Suetonius depicts the swiftness and simplicity with which
Nero buried Britannicus. Part of this impression of cruel behaviour towards the
dead Britannicus is the heavy rainfall occurring at his funeral: postero die rap-
tim inter maximos imbres tralaticio extulit funere (Suet. Ner. 33.3). In Suetonius,
the rain has no narrative purpose and it is not meaningful in any other way: it
does not prove the crime as in Dio nor reveal divine wrath to the people as in
Tacitus. It only adds to the scenery of a funeral that exemplifies Nero’s cruelty.
The example of Britannicus’ funeral in Cassius Dio, Tacitus, and Suetonius
illuminates how narrative elements such as ‘there was heavy rainstorm at Bri-
tannicus’ funeral’ are less important for these texts as historical facts than as
functional elements among the strategies of deconstruction. The dominance
of the literary strategy over the historical fact is particularly apparent in cases
in which the authors apply the same strategy and refer to the same historical
fact, but arrive at different literary versions. We have studied an example of
such a divergence in the treatment of Nero’s reasons for murdering Paris.4 Both
Suetonius and Cassius Dio use the strategy of ‘personalizing’ the emperor’s
reasons in order to deconstruct his conduct, but they devise two different per-
sonal reasons. Suetonius’ Nero kills the actor Paris because he wants to get rid of
a rival (Suet. Ner. 54). Again, this ties in with the context of the Suetonian rub-
ric in which it is presented, which is on Nero’s wish for popularitas and eternal
fame. In Cassius Dio, however, Nero murders Paris because he wants to learn
from him how to dance, but is not capable of doing so (Cass. Dio 62[63].18.1).
This version fits well with Dio’s wholly negative view of Nero’s artistic achieve-
ments in general. Likewise, we have seen that the literary strategy moulds his-
torical facts in the deconstruction of Domitian’s triumphs as bogus triumphs.5
Tacitus (Tac. Agr. 39.1), Cassius Dio (Cass. Dio 67.4.1; 67.7.4), and also Pliny the
Younger (Plin. Pan. 11.4; 16.1–3; 17.4) may not be referring to the same triumph
that was supposed to be the fake one, but they all use the same strategy of
deconstruction, which is to deny Domitian’s victory and to accuse him of hypo-
crisy.
As in the case of Domitian’s triumphs, strategies of deconstruction most
often do not deny the factual status of a form of imperial representation: the
triumph was there, visible on the surface. They rather draw on the ambigu-
ity of all imperial representation, which allows both for a positive coding in

4 See p.292–293.
5 See p.61–63.
three modes of deconstruction 365

panegyrical discourse and for a negative coding or critical re-coding in histori-

ographical discourse. By recombining several re-coded elements, the critical
texts also create a new imperial atmosphere. This is achieved by the descrip-
tion and arousal of negative emotions, but also, in particular in Cassius Dio’s
most complete mode of deconstruction, by satirical elements in the text and
by the depiction and arousal of laughter. There is only one exception in which
the deconstruction consists mainly (but not exclusively) in the factual denial
of a form of representation simply by not mentioning it in the texts: these are
the building projects of Nero and Domitian, which are rarely dealt with and are
mostly passed over in silence in the texts.6
There is, however, a remarkable difference in the use of strategies of decon-
struction as regards the personalities of Nero and Domitian. They are mainly
criticized for forms of historical imperial representation that differ clearly from
each other. This difference also influences the kind of literary deconstruction
to which each is subject: Nero’s artistic efforts offer more opportunity for dir-
ect criticism than Domitian’s military endeavours.7 On the one hand, the texts
in both cases underline and make use of the performative character of these
forms of imperial representation. On the other hand, Nero’s imperial represent-
ation could be taken as what it was—the performance of an artist, interpreted
as being of low quality and as being at odds with the role of the emperor.
Domitian’s imperial representation, however, which lay much more comfort-
ably within the traditional range of imperial duties, had to be framed as a fake
performance.
This ties in with another crucial difference, which regards the reproach of
simulatio: while Domitian is constantly accused of simulatio by the historians,
Nero does and says what he thinks. The concept of simulatio is needed for the
deconstruction of Domitian’s military forms of imperial representation. We can
also see this, ex negativo, when we recall that the reproach of simulatio is not
fully developed for the Suetonian Domitian and is not linked to his military
achievements in the Caesares.8 This is partly to be explained by Suetonius’ own
interests and literary features, but partly, and more specifically, by Suetonius’
lack of interest in military topics.9 Since his focus is not as much on the decon-
struction of military forms of imperial representation as is the case in Tacitus
and Cassius Dio, he does not have to develop the reproach of simulatio to

6 On the connection between silence and forgetting see Gowing 2005, 76: “silence is explicitly
identified in Roman thought with the act of negating memory”. See also p.66–67; 236–237.
7 See p.36–38.
8 See p.338.
9 For Suetonius’ lower level of interest in political-military aspects see Pausch 2004, 272.
366 three modes of deconstruction

the same degree needed by the historiographers. This also accounts—again,

together with Suetonius’ other literary techniques—for the minor role that
the device of focalization plays in the Caesares.10 The historiographical works
proper need to use focalization for the deconstruction of both Nero and Do-
mitian. The historiographers make use of a large variety of focalizations to
construct subtle and complex texts that aim at a certain interpretation of his-
torical events. In Domitian’s case, historiographical deconstruction styles the
focalization of his own thoughts, which shows that he thinks and feels differ-
ently from how he acts. This divergence makes his simulatio more plausible.
In Nero’s case, embedded focalization, in particular through the eyes of the
people, supporters of the historical Nero, is more effective. He himself is depic-
ted most of the time as doing what he thinks and feels. But the perspective on
these acts is deconstructed by presenting other people’s view of them.11 The
different depictions of Nero’s and Domitian’s performances, the varying use of
the reproach of simulatio and the various applications of the narratological
technique of focalization thus provide excellent examples of how historical
imperial representation influences literary deconstruction in Tacitus, Cassius
Dio, and Suetonius.

10 See p.335–336.
11 See p.121–122; 211–215.
 appendix

Deconstruction and Rhetorical Strategies

Shared Rhetorical Background

Whereas the main differences between the three modes of deconstruction were high-
lighted in the concluding chapter, this Appendix draws attention to their most crucial
common ground. All the literary strategies that are applied to deconstruct imperial rep-
resentation are based on rhetorical strategies. We have seen this implicitly throughout
the study; this Appendix will make the rhetorical strategies explicit. It complements
the conclusion offered in the last chapter by looking at the results of this study from a
strictly rhetorical perspective and by asking which general rhetorical strategies under-
lie the techniques of deconstruction analysed in this book (in particular in chapters 4,
7, and 10).
Tacitus, Suetonius, and Cassius Dio, who all received rhetorical training and were
familiar with the theory and practice of rhetoric, adapt rhetorical measures in vari-
ous ways, but the underlying principles—the rhetorical operations—are the same.
My analysis of historiographical strategies deployed against Nero and Domitian as
rhetorical strategies builds on the branch of scholarship that has shown that Roman
historiography cannot be separated from rhetoric.1 The study of connections between
historiography and rhetoric most often takes the form of analysing speeches in his-
toriographical works. My approach is broader: I read historiography and biography as
persuasive genres that aim to make their accounts plausible. Their presentation is also
directed against other versions of the same topics and personalities, especially in the
form we find them in panegyrical discourse. To achieve plausibility for its own version
of Nero and Domitian, historiography draws on genuinely rhetorical devices. The most
important of these are strategies of character depiction, strategies of biased narratio,
and strategies of invective.2

1 See, in particular, Dunkle 1971; Plass 1988; Woodman 1988; Marincola 1997; Baltussen 2002;
Laird 2009.
2 I have used the translations of Rackham 1942; Hubbell 1949; Radice 1969; Russell 2001 for the
rhetorical works dealt with in this chapter.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004407558_021

368 appendix

Character Depiction: Topoi a Persona, Semantic Non-Ambiguity,

Probabile e Vita

For persuasive character depiction, which is a crucial strategy of historiographical

deconstruction, rhetoric provides lists of character qualities. They may be used by
orators and historians to find both positive and negative attributes of a person. These
so-called topoi a persona are highly important for character depiction in the status
coniecturalis, i.e. when a speaker has to argue whether a certain person committed
a crime or not, and in the genus demonstrativum, i.e. when a speaker has to praise
or to vituperate against a person. A general division of such personal traits is that
between animus, corpus, and extra posita/extraneae res/externa.3 In the De inventione,
for example, Cicero gives the following list of personal attributes, which he elaborates
later (Cic. Inv. rhet. 1.34–36): ac personis has res attributas putamus: nomen, naturam,
victum, fortunam, habitum, affectionem, studia, consilia, facta, casus, orationes (Cic. Inv.
rhet. 1.34).4 Attributes of persons according to Cicero are thus someone’s name, nature,
manner of life, fortune, habit, feeling, interests, purposes, achievements, accidents,
and utterances. Additionally, Quintilian mentions elements of praise that are based
on the time before the person was born such as patria, parentes, maiores, as well as
omina, prophecies, and oracles (Quint. Inst. 3.7.10–11). We have seen that historiography
makes use of such topoi to discredit an emperor and to assign negative features to
him. To mention only a few examples, Nero’s artistic interests, his studia, are decon-
structed throughout. Cassius Dio uses the nomen of Caracalla against this emperor: by
calling him by his nicknames “Tarautas” or “Caracallus” instead of his dynastic name
“Antoninus”, he deprives him of his genealogy. In Suetonius, some topoi appear as head-
words for rubrics such as the emperor’s remarkable sayings, his orationes, omina, or—in
particular in Nero’s case—the maiores, who foreshadow Nero’s bad behaviour at the
very beginning of the biography.
Once the orator or writer has found a certain character trait to talk about there is
usually a variety of words which could refer to this character trait. Rhetoric clearly
advises that the character trait be expressed in biased, advantageous terms. Quintilian
suggests that if the orator has to reply to a narratio that was negative and harmful to
his case, he should repeat this narratio, but use different terms. The orator will give
different motives, a different attitude of mind, and a different interest; he will be able
to extenuate some points only by a new wording: alias causas, aliam mentem, aliam
rationem dabo. Verbis elevare quaedam licebit: luxuria liberalitatis, avaritia parsimoniae,

3 See Rhet. Her. 3.6.10; Cic. Inv. rhet. 2.177; Quint. Inst. 3.7.12.
4 For other lists see Rhet. Her. 3.6.10; Quint. Inst. 3.7.10–18.
deconstruction and rhetorical strategies 369

neglegentia simplicitatis nomine lenietur (Quint. Inst. 4.2.76–77).5 In this case, ‘luxury’
and ‘liberality’ (luxuria and liberalitas), ‘avarice’ and ‘thrift’ (avaritia and parsimonia),
as well as ‘carelessness’ and ‘simplicity’ (neglegentia and simplicitas) denote the same
‘facts’. But the choice of one of the two alternatives is a semantic operation that tries to
make an ambivalent character trait, action, or event unambiguous.6 The process that
Quintilian describes, namely the reaction of one narration to another narration that is
to be refuted, is comparable to the process of historiography deconstructing panegyr-
ical narratives. We have seen the rhetorical process of biased wording and the produc-
tion of semantic non-ambiguity, by way of example, in Suetonius’ different terms for
two comparable utterances by Vespasian on the one hand and Domitian on the other.7
While Vespasian’s dictum (Suet. Vesp. 23.4) about his divinity is termed dicacitas (in
the corresponding rubric on banter), Domitian’s utterance (Suet. Dom. 13.1) about his
divinity is semanticized as arrogantia (in the corresponding rubric on arrogance). The
emperor’s statements about his divinity are highly ambivalent. But Suetonius’ strategy
of integrating them into a certain rubric under a specific headword makes them appear
unambiguous.
Rhetoric closely links character depiction, which is constructed on the basis of topoi
a persona and formulated accordingly in a convenient, biased way, with the actions
described in the narratio. The presentation of a meaningful relationship of character
to action is a central rhetorical strategy for creating plausibility, which is called proba-
bile e vita. It is based on the assumption that we can explain what a person does by
referring to his or her way of life and character. Cicero deals with the relationship of
action, motive, and character in De inventione 2.32–34.8 The motive of someone’s deed
(causa facti) has to be explained by this person’s character (animus); this involves ref-
erences to the person’s way of life (vita) and earlier deeds (ante facta) (Cic. Inv. rhet.
2.32). We have seen that, likewise, the relationship of imperial representation to the
emperor’s character, way of life, and motives is crucial to negative images of emperors.
The construction of motives based on character depiction, which directly or indirectly
challenges the official reasons presented by the emperor, is one of the most import-
ant strategies of deconstruction.9 To mention just one outstanding example, Cassius
Dio depicts Domitian at the beginning of his reign as driven by hatred for his father

5 See also Rhet. Her. 3.3.6; Quint. Inst. 3.7.25.

6 Suetonius does so when he reframes Vespasian’s greed (pecuniae cupiditas) as economy:
sunt contra qui opinentur ad manubias et rapinas necessitate compulsum summa aerarii fis-
cique inopia (“on the other hand, some argue that the drained resources of the treasury
and the imperial fund absolutely compelled him to pursue spoil and plunder”, Suet. Vesp.
16.3).
7 See p.303–308 on Suetonius’ coding through rubrics.
8 See also Rhet. Her. 2.2.3–2.3.5; Quint. Inst. 7.2.27–35.
9 See p.115–123; 198–215; 298–302.
370 appendix

and brother. This emotion provides the motive for Domitian’s decree against castra-
tion: Dio’s Domitian thereby wants to insult the memory of his brother Titus, who was
fond of eunuchs (Cass. Dio 67.2.3).

Narratio: Bias, Plausibility, Chronology

The connection of causality to action is important for every rhetorical and every his-
toriographical narrative. Rhetorical narratio does not aim to represent ‘facts’ but to
construct an advantageous, biased version of these ‘facts’. Quintilian points out that the
narratio is useful for persuasion and that it sets forth an event that really happened—
or that might have happened: narratio est rei factae aut ut factae utilis ad persuadendum
expositio (Quint. Inst. 4.2.31).10 The purpose of the rhetorical narratio is accordingly not
that the judge learn the facts but to make the judge agree with the version of the facts
presented: neque enim narratio in hoc reperta est, ut tantum congnoscat iudex, sed ali-
quanto magis ut consentiat (Quint. Inst. 4.2.21). Such a persuasive narratio is based on
a partial selection of facts (as part of the inventio), a suggestive order of these facts (as
part of the dispositio), and the correct wording and style (as part of the elocutio). The
narrative structure of historiography draws on such rhetorical devices of narratio.11 We
have analysed in detail how Tacitus, Cassius Dio, and Suetonius select, order, and style
their material so as to design a persuasive narrative and thereby deconstruct imperial
behaviour. Comparisons between the three authors, with other media of imperial rep-
resentation, and with panegyrical texts have revealed these narratives to be rhetorical
narratives: they present constructions of events that either happened or might have
happened.
Rhetorical narratio with its focus on bias is hence not about truth but about plaus-
ibility. Quintilian proposes four conditions that make a narration plausible (credibilis):
first, if we consult our own hearts so that we do not say anything contrary to what is
natural (si prius consuluerimus nostrum animum ne quid naturae dicamus adversum);
second, if we mention motives and reasons before deeds (and not all deeds, but those
on which the inquiry turns) (deinde si causas ac rationes factis praeposuerimus, non
omnibus, sed de quibus quaeritur); third, if we set up characters appropriate to the
actions that we wish to be believed (si personas convenientes iis quae facta credi volemus
constituerimus); fourth, if we specify places, times, and the like (praeterea loca, tempora,
et similia) (Quint. Inst. 4.2.52). The first point is very general: things that the speaker

10 Cf. Rhet. Her. 1.3.4 (narratio est rerum gestarum aut proinde ut gestarum expositio); Cic. Inv.
rhet. 1.27 (narratio est rerum gestarum aut ut gestarum expositio). See also Woodman 1988,
199–200.
11 See Lounsbury 1987, 67 for the importance of narratio theory for Suetonius.
deconstruction and rhetorical strategies 371

contends have to be possible. Points two and three pick up the above-mentioned rela-
tionship of action to reason, and of action to character. Point four is about details of cir-
cumstances, which add to the plausibility of an account. Historiography too, although it
strongly claims to tell the truth, can achieve only plausibility in its narrative accounts.
The historian strives to satisfy these four qualities too. First, he should not contend
things that cannot possibly be true. Whatever the figures of Nero and Domitian do, it
has to be accepted as possible by the reader. Second, depictions of reasons and, third,
the fashioning of characters, as we saw, add plausibility and coherence to the narrat-
ives. The same holds true, fourth, for the inclusion of details about places and times.
They do not have to be true—that is, factually accurate—but they help the reader to
accept a certain story. So, when the texts make Nero’s performance as a singer during
the Great Fire of Rome plausible, they all do so by styling a setting for this perform-
ance. But the sites are all different: Tacitus’ Nero sings on his private stage (inisse eum
domesticam scaenam et cecinnise Troianum excidium, Tac. Ann. 15.39.3). Cassius Dio’s
Nero ascends to the roof of his palace to sing there (ὁ Νέρων ἔς τε τὸ ἄκρον τοῦ παλα-
τίου, …, ἀνῆλθε, Cass. Dio. 62.18.4). Suetonius’ Nero watches the fire and sings standing
on the tower of Maecenas (hoc incendium e turre Maecenatiana prospectans, Suet. Ner.
38.2). To create a credible account, the inclusion of details about the location is more
important than the factual truth about the site.
Another crucial element of every narratio is the order in which events are described.
Quintilian underlines that the narratio does not always have to follow the chronological
order of events; from a rhetorical viewpoint events should be narrated in the order that
is most advantageous for the purpose of the speech and the achievement of persuasion:
namque ne iis quidem accedo qui semper eo putant ordine quo quid actum sit esse nar-
randum, sed eo malo narrare quo expedit (Quint. Inst. 4.2.83). In the context of laus and
vituperatio Quintilian proposes a structure that presents virtues to which single actions
can be assigned (Quint. Inst. 3.7.15). Historiography too breaks with chronology to pro-
duce a stronger persuasive effect. The extreme form of breaking with the chronology,
in which topics rather than time structure the text, is found in the rubrics of Suetonius’
biographies. On the other hand, chronological order can be used to suggest logical con-
nections, as we saw in Tacitus’ narrative of Nero’s repudiation of Octavia. Nero drives
her away on grounds of infertility, an event which is followed—and so explained—by
his marriage to Poppaea: exturbat Octaviam, sterilem dictitans; exim Poppaeae coniun-
gitur (Tac. Ann. 14.60.1).

Invective: The Commemorative Function of Vituperation

When we think of the historiographical discourse as reacting to the panegyrical dis-

course from the point of view of rhetorical genres, a discourse of vituperation (vitupe-
372 appendix

ratio) is reacting to a discourse of praise (laus). We have seen that the same element of
imperial representation, for example Nero’s artistic endeavours and Domitian’s milit-
ary projects, can appear either as laus or as vituperatio.12 Rhetoric does not give clear
guidelines for vituperation or invective. It simply defines it as the opposite of praise.
Those who want to vituperate should just say the opposite of those who want to praise:
quoniam haec causa [that is, the demonstrativum genus] dividitur in laudem et vitu-
perationem, ex contrariis rebus erit vituperatio comparata (Rhet. Her. 3.6.10).13 While
invective is not an important topic in the theory of rhetoric, it plays a crucial part in
the rhetorical progymnasmata and in oratorical practice, as Cicero’s invective speeches
In Pisonem and Philippica 2 illustrate.14 But we find invective elements in other literary
genres too, such as comedy, satire, epodes, and Roman historiography.
Invective elements are relevant to critical historiography because they fulfil three
purposes that are useful for creating negative images of emperors:
(1) Invective has a crucial non-rational feature: it stimulates emotions and enter-
tains.15 Epideictic speech in general aims to influence emotions gently rather than to
achieve conviction and proof (ad animi motus leniter tractandos magis quam ad fidem
faciendam aut confirmandam accommodate, Cic. Part. or. 71). And, as Quintilian notes
discussing methods of arousing laughter, invective can be serious and brutal, or more
light-hearted and funny: intra haec enim est omnis vituperatio: quae si gravius posita sit,
severa est, si levius, ridicula (Quint. Inst. 6.3.37). This ties in with the historiographical
feature of creating a particular atmosphere for particular reigns in the text, not least by
depicting and inciting emotions.16
(2) Invective has a pedagogical intention. Cicero claims that the principles of praise
and vituperation have a value not only for good oratory but also for an honourable
life (ac laudandi vituperandique rationes, quae non ad bene dicendum solum sed
etiam ad honeste vivendum valent, Cic. Part. or. 70). Quintilian more specifically claims,
when talking about progymnasmata, that the contemplation of right and wrong
moulds someone’s character (animus contemplatione recti pravique formatur, Quint.
Inst. 2.4.20). This pedagogical aspect fits well within the framework of the moral his-
toriography of ancient Rome.
(3) Roman thought assigns a commemorative function to invective and praise.
The Auctor ad Herennium defines as praiseworthy that which produces honourable
remembrance in the present and the future: laudabile est quod conficit honestam et

12 For such re-interpretations see in particular chapter 3.

13 On invective as a rhetorical genre see Quint. Inst. 3.7.19–22 and Koster 1980, 7–21.
14 For progymnasmata cf. Koster 1980, 15–17 on Aphthonios.
15 Cf. Barton 1994, 58: “well-constructed invective was there to be enjoyed”. See Dunkle 1967,
170 for the image of the tyrant applied in Roman invective in order to arouse emotions.
16 See p.88–93; 245–248.
deconstruction and rhetorical strategies 373

praesentem et consequentem commemorationem (Rhet. Her. 3.4.7). In contrast to praise,

vituperation is about negative memory. This is apparent in the genre of invective: when
Cicero dispraises Marc Antony he aims to discredit his enemy in public forever on the
basis of the currently valid norms.17 Invective is part of the negotiation over whether a
person is worthy of historical record or not; invective seeks to uncover the truth about
the person: it destroys the role this person has asserted and unfolds the alternative,
allegedly true knowledge about him or her.18 With regard to this purpose, namely the
negotiation of the memory of a person under criticism, invective and Roman histori-
ography are very similar. They both enact a literary form of damnatio memoriae.19 We
should not think of damnatio memoriae as a condemnation of all memory but as a con-
demnation of a good or positive memory. Cassius Dio’s deconstruction of bad emperors
illustrates this most clearly.20 The bad emperors should not be forgotten; their memory
should be preserved in a negative form, which helps to commemorate the good emper-
ors in a positive way.21 Both the orator and the historiographer who make use of invect-
ive in their works are taking part in the negotiations over the memory of people such as
Piso and Marc Antony, Nero and Domitian. To make their images of these personalities
successful they deconstruct other, positive images through the strategies analysed in
this study.

17 Cf. Koster 1980, 354 defining invective as a literary form, “deren Ziel es ist, mit allen
geeigneten Mitteln eine namentlich genannte oder benennbare Person für sich allein
oder auch stellvertretend für andere öffentlich vor dem Hintergrund der jeweils geltenden
Werte im Bewußtsein der Menschen für immer vernichtend herabzusetzen”.
18 See Neumann 1998, 549–550: “Die I[nvektive] verhandelt die Geschichtswürdigkeit von
Personen; sie will bloßlegen und entlarven, was sich hinter einer Person verbirgt: sie
destruiert die angemaßte Rolle und legt das vermeintliche wirkliche Wissen offen.”
19 Cf. Neumann 1998, 550.
20 See chapter 8.
21 Cf. Flaig 1999, 66–67 discussing the topic of damnatio memoriae in the context of exem-
plification in general.
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Index Locorum

(selection of the most relevant passages)

Calp. Sic. 58.23.3–4 211

Ecl. 59.3.1 199
1.33–88 86 59.4.4 192
1.42 88 59.5.1–2 250
1.77–88 85 59.10.1–8 226
4.6–7 88 59.13.6 35
4.97–98 85 59.19.2–3 35
4.102–104 84 59.22.5 227
4.109–110 85 59.26.5 197
4.112–116 84 59.26.8 250
4.117–121 91 59.29.1 197
7 65, 108 61(60).34.6 206
7.40 74 61.1.2 228
61.2.3 211
Carm. Einsidl. 61.3.1 240–241
1.34 83 61.3.4 189
1.40–41 113 61.5.1 184, 250–251
61.5.6 217
Cass. Dio 61.6.5 211
1.1.2 180 61.7.4 193n18, 362–363
36.40.5 220n98 61.7.6 212
42.1.5 246 61.8.3 208
42.19.3 186 61.9.2 196–197
42.19.4 186 62(61).11.2 228
43.41.3 184 62(61).11.4 221
43.46.6 222 62(61).13.3 193
44.3.1–8.1 185 62(61).14.1–4 207
50.4.1 221 62(61).15.4 214n86
50.33.2 190 62(61).16.1 212
52.30.1 213 62(61).17.5 189
52.33.8–9 235 62(61).19.3 231
52.34.2 230 62(61).19.4 245
52.35.1–4 187 62(61).20.1–2 233
53.11.3 246 62(61).20.2–3 247
53.19.1–6 180 62(61).20.2 202
54.3.1 187 62(61).20.4 247
55.10a.10 206 62(61).20.5 206
55.12.5 178 62.1.1–12.6 243
55.19.3 187 62.1.1 206–207
55.21.2 246 62.2.2 202
55.24.1 224 62.2.4 202
57.1.1–6 201 62.6.2–3 263
57.19.7 205 62.6.3 202
57.21.5–7 260 62.6.5 189, 202
398 index locorum

Cass. Dio (cont.) 63.27.2 197

62.13.1–3 315 63.28.4–5 208
62.14.1 194 63.28.4 234
62.15.2–6 25 63.29.2 234
62.15.3 11 64(65).20.2 206
62.16.1–18.5 223–224 65(66).9.4 184, 197, 198n38
62.18.4 371 66.25.1–6 219
62.22.4 244 66.26.4 211
62.25.1 228 67.1.1 183, 200
62.26.3–4 217 67.1.3 200
62.27.2 218 67.1.4 208
62.27.4 226–227 67.2.1–7 208–210
62.28.1–3 137 67.2.3 370
62.28.2–3 195 67.2.4 243
62.28.2 190 67.2.6 201
62.28.3a 194n20 67.2.7 245
62.29.1 231 67.3.1–2 222–223
62.29.2 231 67.3.42 229
62(63).1.1 207 67.4.1 364
62(63).1.2–6.2 212 67.4.2 201n49
62(63).2.1 203 67.4.3–4 197
62(63).2.2 242 67.4.3 243
62(63).6.4 212–213 67.4.4–5 26
62(63).8.1–18.1 233 67.4.5 219
62(63).8.1–12.1 276 67.4.7 191
62(63).9.5 231 67.6.1 204
62(63).9.6 232 67.6.3 235
62(63).10.2 231 67.6.4 235
62(63).11.3 226 67.6.5 204
62(63).12.2 205 67.7.3 240
62(63).13.1–3 195 67.7.4 364
62(63).13.1–2 196 67.8.1–4 225
62(63).13.1 242 67.8.1 183, 239, 240
62(63).14.2 197 67.8.2–4 26
62(63).14.3 208 67.8.3–4 28
62(63).14.4 233 67.8.4–9.6 225
62(63).15.1 219 67.8.4 215
62(63).16.1–2 218 67.9.1–6 13–14, 28, 195–196
62(63).16.1 193–194 67.10.3 248
62(63).17.1 218, 246 67.11.2–3 229
62(63).17.2 228 67.11.2 226
62(63).17.5 213, 214–215 67.12.5 221, 246
62(63).17.6 213 67.13.2 243
62(63).18.1 217, 293, 364 67.13.3 227
62(63).18.3 226 67.13.4 191
62(63).20.1–6 195 67.14.4 251
63.22.12 203 67.15.2 246
63.22.2–6 213–214 67.15.6 227
63.26.4 197, 227, 242 68.1.1 238
index locorum 399

68.6.2 204 Dio Chrys.

68.13.5 238 Or.
68.31.2 206 21.6 190n8
69.11.2 215–216 21.10 42n52
72(71).33.42 216 21.11 254n22
72(71).35.4 206
72(71).36.4 205, 256 Frontin.
73(72).1.1 199 Str.
73(72).4.2 181 2.3.23 62n18
73(72).5.3 215 2.11.7 62n18
73(72).7.1–2 192
73(72).7.3 226 Gell.
73(72).7.4 228 NA
73(72).11.2 198 praef. 1 351
73(72).14.4 252 praef. 2–3 346
73(72).15.1–6 184 praef. 8 342
73(72).15.4–5 197 praef. 12–16 349
73(72).18.4 181
73(72).21.1–2 247 Juv.
73(72).23.1–5 172n7 4.72–75 26
74(73).14.2a 237 4.107 21
76(75).6.2 183 4.130–143 21
76(75).7.3 182 4.136–137 21
76(75).7.4–8.4 257 8.183–210 75
77(76).4.5 246 8.211–230 75
77(76).8.2–7 246
77(76).9.4 262 Lact.
78(77).5.1 191 De mort. pers.
78(77).6.1 226 3.3 66n39
78(77).8.3 35
78(77).15.4 197 Laus Pisonis
79(78).2.1 182 22–25 56n4
79(78).9.2–3 261
79(78).10.1–2 257 Luc.
79(78).23.3 263 prooem. 44–45 89
80(79).1.1 261 prooem. 45–59 86
80(79).5.5 253
80(79).14.3 253 Mart.
80(79).16.7 253 4.2 85, 86
4.8.7–11 18
Cic. 4.30 84
Inv. rhet. 7.5.6 90
1.34 368 8.2 63
2.32 369 8.8 62
Part. or. 8.11 62, 63
70 372 8.21 62
71 372 8.39 19
8.49(50) 18, 19, 20
8.56.2 98
400 index locorum

Mart. (cont.) 3.7.15 371

8.65 62, 63 4.2.21 370
8.80.7–8 152 4.2.31 370
9.3 86 4.2.52 370–371
9.4.3–4 86 4.2.76–77 368–369
9.31.5 84 4.2.77 321–322
9.91 18 4.2.83 371
10.72 40 6.3.37 372
12.15.5–6 69 10.1.31 48
Spect.
2.3 69 Rhet. Her.
2.4 68 3.4.7 373
3.6.10 275, 372
Octavia
625–626 68 Sen.
912–913 88 Apocol.
4.1 83, 85, 86, 89
Plin. Clem.
HN 1.1.1 71
praef. 6 349 1.1.6 231n136
praef. 12 351 1.5.5 329
praef. 16 351 Ep.
praef. 20 346 19.10–11 24
18.274 347 114.11 22

Plin. Stat.
Pan. Silv.
11.4 364 1.1 86
12.1 55 1.6 12, 17–20, 27
13.1 55 1.6.65–84 90
13.2–3 55 4.1 86
15.5 55 4.2 13, 17–20, 27
16.1–3 364 4.2.14–17 90
16.1 55
17.4 364 Suet.
18.1 55 Aug.
49–51 69 9 271
49.6 13, 22, 27 Calig.
81.3 121 1–49 309
8 352
Ps.-Lucian 16.4 326
Nero 17.1 326
6 230n132 19 326
10 293n46 19.3 347
22 303
Quint. 22.1 310–312
Inst. 27 283
2.4.20 372 50.2–3 287
3.7.10–11 368
index locorum 401

Claud. 2.1 300

2.1 354 2.3 300–301
15.3 347 3.2 300
Dom. 4 301
1–23 310 5.1–2 301
1–3.1 312–313 5.2 301
1.2–3 281 6.1 302, 320, 354
1.3 280, 281, 307 6.4 353
2.1 291–292, 301 7.1 335
2.2 281, 284 9 319, 330
2.3 334 10 319
3.1 302 11–13 303, 324–325
3.2 310–312, 318 17 330–331
4 325 18–19.2 276
4.1 331 19.1 244
4.5 18 19.2 277, 333
5 303, 307, 319–320, 19.3 310–312
347 20–25 273, 277, 278
6 281, 307 20–21.2 279
6.1 320 20.1 288, 337
6.2 333 20.2–3 337
7–9 320 20.2 23, 288
7.2 274, 332 20.3 288–289
9.2 331 21.1–2 337
10–11 316–318 21.2–3 279
10.1 292, 313 21.3 284–285
10.2 292 22.1 338
10.5 286, 333 22.2 338
11.1 28 22.3–25 277
12.1 291, 332 22.3 24, 29, 289
12.2 331, 347 23.1 279, 284, 347
12.3–13 276, 280, 283, 304– 24.1 354
305, 313 24.2 352–353
13.1 26, 290, 331, 369 25.2 353
13.2 285 26.1 338
13.3 281, 286 26–38 278
14–17.2 294–298 26–28 273
14.2 274, 332 27.1 22
14.4 291 27.2 22, 23
18.2 337 27.3 21, 23
21 13, 24, 25, 305–306 28–29 314–315
22 335 28.1 354
22.1 305 28.1–2 289–290
23 327 29 242, 289, 294
Iul. 30.1 294
76–79 282 31 332
Ner. 31.1–2 284
1–57 309–310 31.2 11, 21
1.2 300 32 336
402 index locorum

Ner. (cont.) Vit.

32.2 331 13.1–3 21n51
33–38 277, 315–316 13.2 23
33.1 330 13.3 23
33.3 363–364
34.4 277 Tac.
34.5 331 Agr.
35.1 306 1–3 147–148
35.3 137–138, 291 4.3 99
37.1 307 5.1 63
37.3 277, 283, 333 5.3 64
38.1 332 6 61
38.2 371 6.3 64
39 328–329 6.4 99
39.2–3 336 8.3 99
40–49 272, 279–280, 294– 9.3 116
298 13.1–17.2 60–61
42.2 21, 29 18.2 64
47.1 29 18.6 99
49.1 280 19.2 64
49.3 280 22.4 64
51 277 29.1 96
52 325, 347 39–43 126
53 286 39.1 62, 73, 120, 121, 364
54 293, 364 39.2 61
55 276 39.3 120, 123
57.1 354 40.2 141
57.2 347 41.4 129
Oth. 42.3–4 158
10.1 347 42.3 99, 118
Tib. 43.2–4 146
7.2 335 43.2 140
26–37 324 43.3 120
26.1 326 43.4 120
61.2 307 45.2 61, 98, 120
Tit. 46.3 67, 157
1 203 Ann.
1.1 322 1.3.2 119
6–7.1 311 1.4.3 122
7.1 312, 322–323 1.6 136
8.4 307 1.9–10 114, 139
10–11 333–334 1.53.6 141
Vesp. 1.62.2 141–142
1.1 312 1.70.3 150
2.1 354 1.74.3 132
3 304 1.76.4 141
8.5–9.1 307 1.80.2 154
16–19 321 2.24.4 92
23.4 304, 369 2.39.1 150
index locorum 403

2.39.4 149–150 13.15 76

2.42.3 92 13.16.1–4 12, 363
2.73.1 67 13.17.1 363
2.73.4 162 13.19 92
2.82 122 13.20.2 137
2.87 154 13.20.3 27
3.2.3 122 13.21.3 75
3.3.1 139–140 13.24.1 60, 128
3.16.1 143 13.25.2 60
3.19.2 143 13.25.4 60
3.28.4 92 13.31.1 66
3.30.4 92 13.34–41 58–59, 60
3.33–34 102 13.41.4 100
3.44.4 141 13.53–57 57, 60
3.64.1 143 14.4.4 142
3.69.5 99 14.5.1 85
4.10–11 157, 162 14.9.1 127, 143
4.21 92 14.9.2 127, 143
4.31.2 40, 93 14.9.3 127
4.33.4 163 14.10.1 127
4.38.2 157 14.10.3 85
4.52.1 93 14.11.2 111–112
4.70.2 92 14.12.1 112
6.1.1 123 14.12.2 87
6.6.1 117 14.13.2 60
6.7.3 152 14.14.1 87
6.9.1 156 14.14.2 70
6.19.3 90 14.14.3 189
6.20.1 119 14.15.4 60, 74
6.22.1 143 14.15.5 74, 84, 129
6.25.2 106 14.16.1 128
6.45 67 14.16.2 24
11.11.1–2 70 14.16.4 74
11.38.4 93 14.20 138
12.37.4 97 14.20.4 105
12.40.3 106 14.20.5 105
12.42.3 92 14.21 138
12.64.1 93 14.22.2 86
13.1.1–2 136 14.23–26 59, 60
13.1.1 93, 153 14.29–39 58, 60
13.1.3 93, 156 14.51.1–2 140, 315
13.3–4 77–78 14.53–54 78
13.4.2 68 14.53.2 97
13.5.1 78 14.54.1 97
13.6–9 58, 60 14.55–56 78–79
13.8.1 63, 100 14.56.2 97
13.8.3 63 14.59.4 111
13.9.2 63 14.60–64 109
13.11.2 78 14.60.1 371
404 index locorum

Ann. (cont.) 15.71.1 93, 101

14.64.1 166 15.71.5 124
14.64.3 101, 128 15.74.1 87
15.1–17 59, 60 15.74.3 82
15.18.1 127 16.1–3 90–91, 336
15.23.1 96 16.4–5 108
15.23.3 84, 96 16.4.4 71
15.24–31 59, 60 16.5.1 108
15.31 107 16.6.1 136–137
15.34.1 87 16.6.2 105
15.35.2 113 16.11.3 124
15.35.3 124 16.22.1 83
15.36.1 114 16.23.1 129
15.36.2 140, 244 16.31.2 83
15.36.4 70, 154 16.33.1 87
15.37.1–4 72, 125 Germ.
15.37.1–3 25, 105–106 37.2 62
15.37.1 23, 153 37.5 62
15.37.4 103–104 Hist.
15.38–44 144–147 1.4.3 70
15.38–45 68 1.5.2 155
15.38.1 125 1.7.2 155
15.39.3 371 1.14.2 162
15.42.1 67 1.16.2 96
15.42.2 114 3.83.2 150
15.43.5 95 4.8.4 157–158
15.44 76 4.40.1 120
15.51 151 4.51.2 122
15.53.4 139 4.52.2 122
15.57 151 4.86.1 122
15.58.2 105 4.86.2 118
15.64.2 70 4.86.3 122
General Index

accusers, see informers Augustus 77, 81, 88–89, 90, 109, 114, 119, 136,
Acte 103, 314 139, 175, 186–187, 205, 224, 239, 246,
actor(s) 218, 229, 250 262, 263
Nero as actor 72–75, 214, 230–233, 277, avarice/avaritia 22, 97, 102, 156, 185, 272,
279, 314 273, 278, 280, 283, 288, 290, 291, 296,
adultery 61n14, 98n11, 220, 222, 252, 253 310, 311, 313, 321–322, 326, 332, 336, 338,
Aelius Antipater 42, 182 368–369
Agrippa 72, 144, 174, 187n86, 188n2, 235n152,
236n156 Bacchus 13, 81, 192, 333
Agrippa Postumus 136, 150 Baiae 217, 233n147, 238, 333n153
Agrippina the Elder 93, 106, 129 Berenice 322–323
Agrippina the Younger 12, 27, 75, 92, 97, 103, biography passim, 4 (relationship with his-
106, 126–127, 143, 155, 188, 190, 193, 195, toriography), 271–277 (structure of
205, 211, 221, 252, 263, 314, 315 Suetonius’ biographies)
Alexander the Great 35n13, 63, 89, 260 Boudicca 107, 189, 202, 212, 231, 243, 248,
Alexandria 22n55, 105n41, 106, 122, 197, 234, 263, 264, 328
244 brevity 114, 143n59, 160, 161n124, 351
allusion 35n13, 64, 76, 84, 113, 175–176, 220, Britain 57–61, 64, 120, 123, 126, 202n54, 206,
229n125, 292, 333, 341n7 243, 328
ambiguity 40, 82, 130, 147–148, 150, 160, 270, Britannicus 12, 31n97, 76, 113, 162, 193,
327–334, 350, 364, 368–369 200n46, 228, 294, 315, 362–364
ambivalence 18–20, 27, 40, 45, 156, 158, 171, buildings passim, 64–49 (as topics of
175, 180n56, 196, 213–214, 256, 257, imperial representation, in Tacitus),
290, 318–339, 340, 350n76, 356, 362, 236–239 (in Dio), 285, 307–308 (in
369 Suetonius)
analepsis 126, 249 Burrus 27, 78, 103, 118–119, 128, 140, 154, 184,
animals 17n31, 72, 83–84, 106, 121, 164, 188n2, 188, 223, 315
193, 218, 286, 315
Antonia (Claudius’ daughter) 138–139, 291, Caenis 304, 327
315 Caesellius Bassus 90–91, 142
Antoninus Pius 255, 256 Caligula 77, 92, 98, 119, 170, 184, 191–192, 197,
Antonius Saturninus 195, 226, 229, 240n170, 199, 201, 211, 216, 245, 249–254, 283,
260, 308, 317, 320, 333 287, 288, 292, 309, 318, 323, 324, 326,
Apollo 38, 56n3, 80–81, 83, 85, 86, 87, 192, 335
197, 278, 283, 286, 289, 328 Cancelleria Relief 56n5, 86, 301n65
Armenia 57–60, 202, 223, 244 Capitol 65n30, 66n39, 87n145, 101, 280, 283,
arrogance/arrogantia 30, 97, 107, 114, 122, 297
185, 348 Capitoline games 284, 325
Domitian’s arrogance 191, 274–276, 278– Capitoline War 150, 281
281, 282, 283, 285, 290, 303, 304–305, Caracalla 170, 172, 173, 175, 183, 191, 197, 237,
308, 313, 327, 331, 355, 369 251–252, 261, 263, 368
Artaxata 58, 100 castration, see also eunuch 137, 190n8, 209,
artist(ry), see actor(s), chariot-driving/chari- 210, 370
oteers, music, lyre censorship 89, 90n159, 197, 242, 243,
Arulenus Rusticus 158, 216, 227, 243 339n176
Assmann, Jan 31n96, 37, 254, 257, 258 characterization 48, 71, 115–119, 198–201, 275
406 general index

chariot-driving/charioteers 215n88, 250, dilemma 96n6, 149, 152, 154, 162, 163, 201,
252, 253 245–246, 265
Nero as charioteer 38, 72, 73n73, 77, 207, Dio of Prusa 171, 254n22
212, 213n82, 219, 220, 230, 231, 273, 277, discourse passim, 38–43 (definition)
279, 283, 301, 314, 324, 338, 352 dissimulation 13, 61–63, 75, 99, 117, 119–121,
Chatti 56n5, 62, 241, 320 140, 142, 164, 165, 193, 200, 208, 209,
Christians 46, 75, 144n64, 145 230, 239, 246, 251, 252, 281, 313, 319, 339,
Cicero 161n126, 179, 192, 195, 259n50 364, 365, 366
cithara, see lyre divinity 19–20, 29–30, 79–88, 164, 183, 191–
Claudius 36n19, 57, 60, 77, 81, 89, 119, 190, 192, 256, 274, 283, 290, 304–305, 327,
288, 315, 330 369
clementia 34, 78, 84, 85, 88, 93, 124, 174n23, divisio/division 278, 304, 308–313, 337, 356
185, 263, 273, 274, 292n44, 316, 318, 319, Domitia (Domitian’s wife) 203n61, 222, 223,
324, 325, 340 246, 283, 291–292
Cleopatra 22n55, 189, 221n101, 305n82 Domitius (Nero’s father) 211, 354
climax 25, 92, 125, 191, 200n46, 253, 276, 277, domus aurea 11, 17n28, 65, 68–69, 275, 278,
280, 283, 314, 315, 316, 318, 322, 328 284, 328, 330n147
Clodius Albinus 172, 182, 183, 195, 257 Doryphorus (= Pythagoras) 242, 289, 315
closure 130–133, 138–139, 142, 148, 151, 155– doublespeak 39, 106n45, 160n121
159, 165–166, 312n103, 362 Drusus 92, 157, 162
Cluvius Rufus 25n71, 37n26, 41, 180
colossus 65, 66n38, 236n156 Earinus 19, 82n120, 209, 339n176
comitas 16, 273, 319, 323, 324 education 118, 171, 175n23, 183–184, 199–200,
Commodus 172, 175, 184, 192, 197, 199, 273, 275, 322, 335, 340, 345, 351–353,
204, 205, 211, 215, 226, 228, 239, 245, 357
246, 247–248, 251–252, 256, 257, Egypt, see also Alexandria 90n163, 106n44,
263 149n80, 188n2, 190, 221n101, 249n2, 260
comparison passim, 31–32, 63–64, 80–82, Elagabalus 170, 172, 175, 176, 177, 188, 190n9,
201–207, 298–302 212, 225, 248, 249, 251–254, 261, 263, 265
Corinth canal 65, 171, 193, 243n178 encyclopaedic literature 342–354, 356–357
Corbulo 58–60, 63–64, 99, 107, 127, 202, entertainment
212–213, 214, 228, 238, 244, 264, 335 form of imperial representation 15–16,
craziness, see madness 24, 69–76, 183, 225, 251, 324
crudelitas, see also saevitia 137, 242, 272, literary quality 198, 248, 342, 351–354,
277, 280, 292, 296, 306, 315, 328–329, 372
338, 364 Epaphroditus 234, 251, 291
cupiditas 272, 274, 280, 290, 291, 313, 316, Epicharis 107, 151
321, 322, 331, 347 euergetism 15, 17, 18, 69, 70
eunuch, see also castration, Earinus, Sporus
Dacians 35n10, 45n67, 83n126, 203, 204, 235, 19n45, 190, 209, 354, 370
240, 248, 260n55, 320
damnatio memoriae 1, 36, 45, 47, 61, 260, falsi Nerones 45, 73n69, 347
261, 373 Faustina (Commodus’ mother) 211, 239
Decebalus 203, 204, 235n151, 240, 248, 264 fear 14, 20, 26–28, 57, 90, 92–93, 105, 110,
deconstruction passim, 43–45 (definition) 120, 136, 140, 152, 154, 234, 238, 244,
delatores, see informers 245–248, 251, 286, 296–297, 299–300,
derision, see also humour 58, 60, 121, 247– 332–333, 336
248, 261, 265 femininity, see also gender 83, 102–103, 150,
Derrida, Jacques 43–44 189, 190, 208, 289
general index 407

fictus interlocutor 228–229 humour, see also derision 184, 194–197, 248,
fire of Rome (64 CE) 38, 67, 95, 125–126, 135, 290, 304–305, 317, 354
144–147, 220, 223, 242, 315, 328, 332, hypocrisy, see dissimulation
338, 371
flattery 84, 96n6, 100, 101, 154, 186, 201, inconsistency 131, 133, 135, 136, 156, 157,
259n52 180n56, 201, 215, 220
Flavius Josephus 39n34, 56n6, 301n68 informers 112, 155n69, 129, 152–153, 156, 191,
focalization 61, 121–123, 193, 204, 207–215, 208, 318, 333n154
335–336, 362, 366 inheritance 58, 60, 218, 220, 228, 330–
focusing, see also selecting 18, 170, 235, 265 331
Foucault, Michel 101 invective, see also satire 248, 253, 275,
funeral 13, 28, 67, 78n91, 93, 97, 101, 105, 113, 300n62, 329n144, 367, 371–373
126, 195–196, 225, 257, 264, 295, 309, inversion 25, 152, 216, 219–220, 223, 265, 294
326, 330, 362–364 invidia 77, 99, 113, 122n100, 155
irony 39, 40, 83n124, 107, 120, 137n42,
Galba 21, 29, 36, 37n23, 70n58, 96, 155, 162, 194n20, 220, 233, 248, 305
202n52, 234, 240, 260n55, 300, 305n82, iustitia/justice 34, 88, 90, 129, 225, 275, 329
337n174 Iuvenalia 60, 75, 206, 219, 220, 231, 247,
Gellius 274n13, 342–354, 356, 357 259n52, 324
gender, see also femininity 71, 94, 101–106,
149, 150, 190, 253, 288, 289, 362 Jewish-Christian literature 46, 171
generosity, see liberalitas joy 12, 18, 20, 90, 96, 101, 118, 120, 122, 210,
Germanicus 57, 64n25, 67, 100, 122, 140, 141, 219, 245, 326
142, 158, 162, 204–205, 309, 311, 327 Julia (Augustus’ daughter) 141, 235
Germany 57, 60, 92, 141, 202n57 Julia (Domitian’s niece) 81n120, 222–223,
Geta 184, 245, 252 335
gloria/glory 61, 64, 67, 99, 114, 123, 145, 163, Julia Domna 178, 202n54, 245, 263
207, 235n152, 258n47, 275 Julius Caesar 63, 77, 89, 98, 185–186, 217,
Golden Age 17, 80, 88–91, 164, 205, 256 273, 283, 288
Greece 38, 80, 125, 185, 190, 205, 233, 248, Jupiter 18, 19, 27, 37, 46n69, 80, 81, 86, 183,
276–277, 284, 289, 338 192, 281n7, 320, 325
greed, see avarice/avaritia
Greek 105, 138, 177–178, 285, 288, 325, 337 knights 13, 18, 28, 33, 156, 172, 185, 189,
196n28, 225, 231n135, 234, 286, 324,
hatred 110, 118, 120, 122n100, 123, 136, 137, 341n8
142, 143, 183, 210, 212, 238, 243, 246, 252,
334, 369 labelling 215, 270, 273, 282, 303, 304–306,
Helvidius Priscus 157–158, 203n60, 216 311, 319, 327, 355
Hercules 81, 192, 232, 233, 283, 284, 285, 286, liberalitas 13, 15, 17, 18, 20, 35, 69, 70, 71, 89,
338 273, 275, 319, 322, 324, 325, 326, 340,
Herodian 183n72, 262n69 368–369
Historia Augusta 4, 173n13, 177 libertas 76, 90n163, 96n6, 128, 154, 157, 324
homosexuality 288, 313 libido 61, 72, 110, 113, 117, 122, 123, 150, 242,
honours 33, 58–59, 80, 83–84, 97, 99, 100– 272, 273, 274, 278, 289, 290, 294, 305,
101, 127–128, 174, 184, 185–187, 192, 226, 309n94, 313, 314, 315, 322, 338
244, 256, 282, 286, 287, 301, 326–327, licentia 98, 138, 282, 313
336 Livia 97, 99, 122, 136, 139, 140, 143, 187, 190,
hubris 96–98, 165, 182, 190–193, 201n50, 264, 192, 206, 224, 246
282–287 Lucan 11, 22, 37n21, 39, 43, 73, 86, 89, 231
408 general index

luxuria/luxury 15, 17, 21–22, 26, 28–29, 35, Oedipus 232, 284
47, 65, 68–69, 71, 89, 90, 91, 96, 98, 137, omissions, see also selecting 164, 198n33,
270, 273, 275, 284, 290, 291, 296, 322– 177, 189, 227–228, 241–244, 265, 306–
323, 331, 340, 368–369 308, 335, 336n167
lyre, see also music 1, 24, 73n69, 202, 205, Orestes 232, 233, 284
213, 214, 217, 223, 231, 234, 240, 252, 279, Otho 21n53, 25n71, 27n78, 37n23, 45, 115n73,
289, 292, 302, 337, 353n99 228, 240n170, 306, 347

Macrinus 172, 175, 176n30 paradox 15, 151–152, 201, 245, 252
madness 1, 2, 37, 38, 87n144, 90, 197, 264, paralepsis 44, 214
287–288, 326, 330, 355 Parthia/Parthians 23, 57–60, 127, 182,
Maecenas 67n42, 174, 186–188, 213, 220, 230, 185n81, 194n21, 196n28, 249n2, 262n68,
235, 237, 238, 371 327
manipulation 124–127, 165, 193, 260, 265, peace 26, 46n73, 55–59, 81n113, 150, 204,
317n113, 336, 343, 356 240n168, 329
Marc Antony 188, 189, 195, 221, 232n138, Pertinax 172, 174, 175n24, 183, 209n73, 249n2,
235n150, 275n18, 300, 305n82, 373 257, 259n49
Marcus Aurelius 171, 174, 177, 183, 184, 194– petulantia 273, 278, 306, 313, 338
195, 204, 205, 206, 212, 216, 239, 253, Philiscus 178, 179n50, 179n55
255, 256, 262, 263 Philostratus 41n43, 171, 178, 179, 182n65,
Marius Maximus 173n13, 177, 271 182n66, 262n69
Mars 81 pietas 34, 270, 273, 319, 324
memory Piso
cultural memory 36, 45, 47, 66, 254–261 Lucius Calpurnius Piso Caesoninus,
hot memory 44, 170, 254–258, 265 Cicero’s adversary 373
Messalina (Claudius’ wife) 92, 106n47, Gnaeus Calpurnius Piso, Germanicus’
190n5, 206, 263 adversary 122, 143, 162
Messalina (Nero’s wife) 190, 242, 315 Gaius Calpurnius Piso, conspirator
metalepsis 44, 214 74n80, 139, 158
military actions 53, 55–64, 74, 94, 96, 141, Lucius Calpurnius Piso Frugi Licinianus,
164, 182, 264, 269, 274, 281, 307, 313, 361 adopted by Galba 162
Minerva 21n51, 80, 86, 191, 274, 297, 325 Pisonian conspiracy 75n84, 87, 93, 101, 105,
miscellany literature 269, 270, 340–354, 107, 135, 138, 148n80, 151, 213n82, 217,
356–357 220, 226, 228, 284, 315
mise-en-abyme 214 plausibility 31, 61, 111–112, 115, 136, 146, 196,
Mucianus 61n15, 117, 122, 203n61 207, 220–221, 264, 287, 290–291, 316,
music, see also lyre 273, 279, 284, 288, 289, 367, 369, 370–371
314, 337, 338 Plautianus 246, 249n2, 252, 258n46
Plautus (murdered by Nero) 86, 101, 111, 128,
Naples 23, 105, 288, 289, 297, 337 154, 194
narratology 5, 44, 48, 54, 94, 181, 211, 213, 214, Pliny the Elder 138–139, 342–352, 356, 357
222n106, 242, 264, 361, 366 Pliny the Younger 13, 22, 30, 42, 55, 151, 345
nature 22, 35, 68, 83–85, 89, 98, 193–194 polyphony 131, 332
Neronia 105, 107, 108, 128, 138, 145, 206, 240, Pompey 63, 67, 186, 192, 263
324, 337 Poppaea 96, 103, 105, 109, 110–111, 128, 136–
Nerva 3, 4n14, 36, 37n23, 62n20, 66n38, 147– 138, 223, 232, 242, 291, 292, 306, 315, 371
148, 177, 209n73, 238, 255, 256, 341 popularitas/popularity 1, 25n70, 45, 69, 70,
Nicomedia 24n63, 172, 173 72, 273, 293, 296, 299, 303, 319, 323, 324,
328, 327, 337n173, 338, 364
general index 409

Priam 223–224 testament, see inheritance

prolepsis 126 Thrasea Paetus 74n80, 75n82, 83, 112, 117n82,
Pythagoras (= Doryphorus) 103, 125–126, 124n103, 128, 154, 158n108, 169, 200, 214,
190, 195, 196, 214, 242 216, 217, 243, 245, 247, 259n52
Tiberius 57, 67, 77, 92, 99, 113n60, 114, 117,
representation passim, 33–38 (definition) 119, 122, 123, 136, 139–140, 141, 142, 143,
rhetoric passim, 367–373 (rhetorical 154, 156, 157, 187, 190, 201, 204–205, 211,
strategies of deconstruction) 218, 220, 250–251, 255, 260, 294, 300,
ridicule, see derision 307, 324, 326, 335
ritual 33, 104, 121, 124, 195, 196, 229, 239–241 Tigellinus 11, 23, 25, 69–72, 84, 86, 96, 103,
rumour 1, 67, 70, 86, 110, 113n61, 144–147, 105, 125–126, 145, 148, 153, 196, 200n44,
156–157, 159, 162, 208, 221, 240 200n46, 218, 219, 223, 242
Tigranes 59
Saecular Games 70n55, 149n80, 262n68, Tiridates 58n11, 59, 107, 113, 202, 203,
325 212, 213, 242, 253, 264, 324, 325,
saevitia, see also crudelitas 122, 272, 273, 331
274, 280, 286, 292, 307, 313, 315, 316, 318, titles 34, 46n69, 56, 63n23, 96n6, 184, 191,
320, 322, 333, 348, 350, 364 214, 217, 233, 251, 275, 281, 286
safe criticism 39, 40n37 Titus 63, 99, 203, 209–210, 211, 243, 260,
satire, see also invective 23, 195, 248, 253– 293, 301, 311–312, 322–323, 333–334,
254, 365, 372 370
Saturn 17, 81 topoi 31, 249, 250, 275, 313, 326, 368–
Second Sophistic 177, 178, 183, 349, 351 369
Sejanus 86, 113n60, 118n84, 156, 162, 187n86, tragedy 73n73, 75, 151n88, 193, 217, 250
205, 233n147, 238, 239n163, 249n2 Trajan 3, 16, 36, 46, 55, 107, 147–148, 151–152,
selecting, see also focusing, omissions 186, 204, 218, 238, 255, 341, 344
226–229, 236–241, 242, 306–308, 319, transgression 1, 20, 22–24, 36–38, 43, 74, 98,
334, 339, 346, 349–351, 370 103–104, 106, 125–126, 182–187, 188, 190,
Seneca 11, 22, 36, 39, 77–79, 96–97, 103, 118– 195–196, 197, 252, 282–286, 287, 293,
119, 124, 154, 179, 184, 188, 200, 224, 228, 294, 314
238, 240, 315 triumph 33, 38, 56, 66, 195–196, 239, 244,
Septimius Severus 42, 172, 173, 182, 183, 273, 279, 300, 301, 308, 314, 320
195, 206, 237, 256–257, 260, 261, 262– bogus triumph 29, 61–63, 73, 121, 127,
263 235, 240, 281, 364
Severus Alexander 172–173, 175–176, 253– Troy 41n43, 76n85, 81n113, 113, 144, 224,
254 294
silence 12, 61, 64, 85, 101, 243, 284, 322, 331,
365 variety 160–161, 250, 314, 346, 351
simulatio, see dissimulation Vatinius 24, 129, 219
Sol 66n38, 80, 81, 87, 283, 286 Vespasian 36, 55n1, 60, 63, 122, 157, 203, 218,
soldiers 33, 34, 46, 55, 57n7, 58, 60, 63, 76, 224, 237, 264, 301, 304–305, 321–322,
108, 123, 141, 152, 155, 172, 174, 183, 197, 369
208, 217, 223, 231–232, 233, 248, 260n55, Vestal virgin 252, 253, 314, 324
285, 327, 331 Vindex 197, 202, 203, 212, 213, 214, 227, 234,
Sporus 137, 190, 194n20, 195–196, 214, 242, 264
264, 289, 290, 296, 314, 354 Vitellius 21n51, 23, 24n64, 37n23, 45,
suicide 92, 127, 134n31, 142, 143, 182, 207, 155n100, 192, 206, 218, 224n112,
229, 234, 291, 298, 301 240n170, 247, 305n82
superbia 107, 122, 272, 326 Vologaesus 99, 107
410 general index

White, Hayden 48n80

Xerxes 98
Xiphilinus 176–177, 198n33, 202n55, 223,
226, 233, 241n171, 243n178

Zonaras 176–177