When Nero was three years old his father died. His uncle, the emperor Caligula, managed to cheat him out of his inheritance, but afterward the emperor Claudius restored it to him, added to it other property, and bestowed upon him many honors. His mother sought to have him properly educated and to have his manners cultivated according to the best standards of the time. He is said, as a boy, to have been affectionate, with some aptness to learn, and fond of praise.
As the niece of Claudius, Agrippina had been allowed to occupy a place in the imperial palace next to the empress Messalina herself. When Messalina’s dissolute character became manifest to all, Agrippina, as we have related, took advantage of it to increase her own favor with the emperor and the interests of her son as a possible successor to the throne. It was an audacious dream, because he would be thus put in the place of Britannicus, the emperor’s son by Messalina. After Messalina’s wretched death, and when Agrippina had reached the summit of her ambition and had become the wife of Claudius (the Senate having passed a special edict to sanction this union of an uncle with his niece), this artful woman was able still more successfully to make her own son prominent and to keep Britannicus in the background.
We have stated that the philosopher Seneca was called back from the exile, in which,—probably owing to the hatred of Messalina,—he had been living on the island of Corsica; and was chosen to be the special instructor of the young Nero. Seneca was not only a keen theorist in statesmanship and morals but he was shrewd also in matters of business, and had a taste for public affairs. He was probably as good an instructor as could have been found for such a service at that time. He was, however, very lenient with his royal pupil. He found in him a coarse nature with strong impulses. He adopted the plan of trying to allure him to his tasks by indulging him at other times in his lighter tastes. The young man became proficient in singing, in playing upon pipes, and in dancing, though these accomplishments had been disapproved by conservative Romans as inappropriate to the military life of the conquerors of mankind. But Seneca seems to have gone further in yielding to Nero’s natural inclinations. He connived at some of his vices. Surrounded by flatterers and schemers and depraved caterers to immorality, Nero early imbibed evil principles and adopted corrupt practices. He was inflated with conceit and bred to foolish ostentation. The wickedness of his own mother must have gone far to destroy in him all sentiments of virtue. What could be expected of an impulsive young man with such an heredity and such an environment?
While he was put forward to be the public advocate of measures that were popular, Agrippina reserved for Britannicus nothing but neglect. The attendants of the latter’s childhood, between whom and himself there had sprung up a mutual affection, were, one by one, removed from him through her influence, and he was left as much as possible in the shadow.
When Claudius was dead Agrippina put the climax upon her crafty management by keeping the announcement from the public until everything was ready. She even gave out word that her husband was better and took care to retain Britannicus and his sisters under her close surveillance. To those in the palace who knew that Claudius was dead she pretended the greatest grief until noon of the next day. Then, when Burrus the Prefect walked across the courtyard to present the successor to the throne to the prætorian guard, it was not Britannicus but Nero that walked by his side. Some, indeed, ventured to express the murmur:
“Where is Britannicus?”
But there was no one to champion his cause; and so the son of Agrippina was saluted as the emperor. It is also related that on the first evening of his imperial power, when a sentinel of the palace came to ask him for the watchword for the night, he, knowing well to whom he was indebted for his throne, returned the words, “Optima Mater,”—“The Best of Mothers.” To what extent this feeling of gratitude was maintained by him in later years we shall see.
Seneca, poet and philosopher, is said to have written a satire on the death of the emperor Claudius. The Senate, following foolish precedents, had declared that he had become a god. This satire represented him as having become a gourd. The Senate had ascribed to him divinity. The satire spoke jocosely of his pumpkinity. Some eulogists of the philosopher are loth to believe the identity, but many writers contend that this satire was substantially the same as the well-known ancient writing called the “Play Upon the Death of Nero” that has come down to us, which bears many of the marks of Seneca’s style and which describes in a burlesque manner the reception and disgrace of Claudius among the gods. It is overflowing with contempt for the emperor, in strange contrast with the almost abject flattery that Seneca had written of him when he was anxious to win his favor and so get back from exile. Altogether, it is difficult to relieve Seneca from the charge of time-serving and hypocrisy. It is so much easier to write noble sentiments in regard to disinterestedness than it is to practice them in days of temptation! From ridicule of the dead emperor the satire goes on to welcome the new one in flowery language. It says:
“As when the bright sun gazes on the world and starts his chariot on his daily race; so Cæsar breaks upon the earth. Such is the Nero whom Rome now beholds!”
Nero was seventeen years of age when he was thus called to govern the civilized world. Wearied by the atrocities of his predecessors, the people could not but welcome the fair-faced youth in whose antecedents there was not much to excite serious apprehension. His busts represent him as having at this time a round face, a not displeasing countenance, and a slight beard. His hair is said to have been yellowish, or sandy. His figure was not well proportioned,—his neck being thick, his body large and his legs slender. His eyes were dark gray and their sight was somewhat impaired. He was careless in his dress, yet fond of finery. He particularly took care of his locks, arranging them in a manner somewhat effeminate. He sometimes greatly offended fastidious taste by going with his feet bare, with his girdle loose, and wearing (even in public) a sort of dressing-gown. He entered upon his imperial career with a good degree of physical health and strength.