Antiquities — Book 19

Josephus · a new plain-English translation from the Greek

How Gaius Caesar, plotted against by Cassius Chaerea, was killed, and how his uncle Claudius, compelled by the soldiers, took over the government. The conflict between the senate and people on one side and Claudius with the troops that supported him on the other. The embassy of King Agrippa to the senate, and how the soldiers, coming to terms with the senate, went over to Claudius and made him master of affairs, while the senate, left isolated, appealed to Claudius to be reconciled with it. How Claudius Caesar restored to Agrippa the whole of his ancestral kingdom and added to it the tetrarchy of Lysanias. The edicts of Claudius Caesar at Alexandria on behalf of the Jews there, and throughout his empire. The departure of King Agrippa by sea for Judea. The letter of Publius Petronius, governor of Syria, to the people of Dora on behalf of the Jews. How King Agrippa, while building the walls of Jerusalem at great expense, died before the work was finished and left it incomplete. Everything he did in the three years up to his death, and the manner in which he ended his life. This book covers a period of three years and six months.

Gaius did not confine the madness of his arrogance to the Jews of Jerusalem and those who lived nearby; he sent it out over every land and sea subject to Rome, and filled the whole of it with countless evils such as had never before been recorded. Rome felt the horror of what was happening more than anywhere else, since he held her in no greater honor than any other city, but plundered and despoiled everyone, above all the senate and those of its members distinguished by noble birth and the fame of their ancestors. Countless outrages were likewise found against the men called knights, who by rank and the power of their wealth were equal to senators, since it was from their number that men were called up into the senate; these men were stripped of honor and driven into exile, killed and robbed of their property, since for the most part the killings were carried out for the sake of seizing their wealth.

He proclaimed himself a god and no longer thought it fitting that the honors his subjects paid him should be merely human. Going to the temple of Zeus which they call the Capitol, the most honored of their temples, he dared to call Zeus his brother, and everything else he did fell no short of madness. Once, going from the city of Dicaearchia in Campania to Misenum, another town on the coast, and thinking it beneath him to cross by trireme, and holding besides that, since he was master of the sea, he was entitled to demand of it whatever could be demanded of the land, he bridged the sea for thirty stadia from headland to headland, enclosed the bay within it, and drove his chariot the whole length of the bridge — since it was fitting, being a god, that his travels take such a form.

He left no temple of the Greeks unplundered, ordering that everything of value in them — paintings, carvings, and all the remaining furnishings of statues and dedications — be brought to him; for it was not right, he said, that beautiful things should lie anywhere but in the most beautiful place, and that place, he held, was the city of Rome. With what was brought from there he adorned his house, his gardens, and all his residences throughout Italy. He even dared to order that the Olympian Zeus, honored by the Greeks and so named, the work of Phidias the Athenian, be carried off to Rome. He did not, however, go through with it, since the engineers charged with moving the statue told Memmius Regulus, who had been assigned to the task, that the work would be destroyed if it were moved. It is said that for this reason, and also because portents too great to be readily believed occurred, Memmius put off the removal; and he wrote a letter to Gaius in justification for leaving the matter unattended to, and by this was saved from the danger it brought upon him, since Gaius happened to die first.

His madness reached such a pitch that, when a daughter was born to him, he carried her up to the Capitol and laid her on the knees of the statue, declaring that the child belonged jointly to himself and to Zeus, and appointing two fathers for her, leaving open which of the two was the greater. And people put up with him doing even this. He also undertook to allow slaves to bring accusations against their masters on whatever charges they pleased; for anything that might be said became terrible, since most such matters were settled by his favor and at his prompting — so much so that a slave named Polydeuces even dared to bring an accusation against Claudius on a capital charge involving his own former master, and Gaius consented to attend the hearing, in hopes of finding an occasion to have him put out of the way. He did not, however, succeed in this.

When he had filled with false accusations and evils the whole world he governed, and had raised the tyranny of slaves over their masters to a great height, plots against him were already forming on many sides — some out of anger, meaning to avenge what they had suffered, others thinking it best to deal with the man before great evils should befall them. Since, then, his death brought great benefit both to the laws that govern all men and to the general security, and since our own nation would very nearly have perished had his end not come swiftly, I wish to go through the whole account of him with care — all the more since it carries strong proof of God's power, and offers comfort to those who live in adversity, and a lesson in restraint to those who suppose good fortune eternal and are led by it, wrongly, into further evil when excellence has played no part in it.

Three separate paths, then, were being prepared toward his death, and over each of these good men held the lead. Aemilius Regulus, a man of Corduba in Spain by birth, was gathering some men, whether through others or through himself, being eager to bring Gaius down. A second group was being organized under the leadership of Cassius Chaerea, a tribune. And Annius Minucianus formed no small part of those preparing against the tyranny. Their reason for joining together in hatred of Gaius was, in Regulus's case, a temper angry at everything and given to hating whatever was done unjustly — for he had something spirited and free in his nature, which kept him from being able to conceal his plans; indeed he shared them with many, both friends and others whom he judged capable men of action. Minucianus was moved partly by vengeance for Lepidus, who had been his closest friend and whom Gaius had put to death along with a few other citizens, and partly by fear for himself, since Gaius's anger, once let loose against everyone alike toward death, might at any time fall upon him too — this drove him to the undertaking. Chaerea bore the shame of the taunts of cowardice that Gaius kept bringing against him, and besides this reckoned that to risk his life daily under the guise of friendship and service, waiting for Gaius's death, was not altogether a free man's part. The conspirators also reasoned that the question of acting in the matter had, in effect, already been put before everyone in common, since all alike saw the outrage and longed, at the height of its fury, to escape it by bringing Gaius down; for perhaps they would succeed, and if they succeeded, it would be a fine thing to have won such great goods by laboring for the safety of the city and the empire, even though the undertaking be approached at the risk of death. But above all it was Chaerea who pressed forward, out of desire for a greater name, and also because, thanks to his rank as tribune, he could approach Gaius without arousing suspicion, which would make killing him an easy matter for him.

At this time there were horse races. The Romans are passionately devoted to this spectacle; they come together eagerly at the racecourse, and gathered there in great numbers they ask the emperors for whatever they want, and the emperors, judging such requests impossible to refuse, are never ungracious in response. So on this occasion the crowd, pleading fervently, urged Gaius to reduce some of the taxes and lighten something of the burden of the tribute. He would not consent, and when they shouted all the louder, he sent men out in different directions with orders to seize those who were shouting and lead them off and put them to death without delay. He gave the order, and those charged with it carried it out, and a great many died on that account. The people saw it happening but bore it, falling silent, seeing with their own eyes that to beg for the sake of money, in such circumstances, led straight to their own deaths.

This drove Chaerea all the more to take up the plot and put an end to Gaius, who had grown savage against mankind. Often, even at banquets, he was on the point of making the attempt, but he held himself back on reflection, having already resolved beyond doubt to kill him, but watching for the right moment, so that he might use his hands not in vain but to bring about what had been planned. He had by now been serving as a soldier for a long time, without any pleasure in Gaius's conduct. When Gaius set him to collect the taxes and whatever other payments due to Caesar's treasury had fallen behind schedule — since the sum owed had doubled — he took his time over the collection, following his own manner rather than Gaius's instructions, out of a certain forbearance, taking pity on the hardships of those being taxed; and this provoked Gaius's anger, who accused him of softness for being slow in gathering the money for him. Indeed Gaius heaped other insults on him besides, and whenever the watchword of the day fell to him to receive, he would give him womanish names, full of shame at that — and he did this without being free of such things himself, for at certain rites of mysteries which he himself instituted, he would put on women's clothing, devise for himself the wearing of braided wigs, and other things meant to give his appearance a false semblance of femininity, and yet he dared to call upon Chaerea for the shame of such things.

Whenever Chaerea received the watchword, anger came over him, and still more whenever he had to hand it on, laughed at by those who received it, so that even his fellow tribunes made a joke of him; for whenever he was about to bring the watchword from Caesar himself, they would tell one of those accustomed to carry it in advance, turning it into a game. Because of this he grew bold enough to take certain men into his confidence, since it was not against a few that Gaius vented his anger. Among these was Pompedius, a man of senatorial rank who had passed through nearly all the offices, but also an Epicurean, and for that reason devoted to a quiet life. Timidius, being his enemy, denounced him for using improper abuse against Gaius, bringing forward as witness Quintilia, a woman of the stage, celebrated among many, including Pompedius, for the brilliance of her beauty. And since the woman — for the charge was false — thought it a terrible thing to give testimony that would bring about the death of her lover, Timidius demanded that she be put to torture; and Gaius, provoked, ordered Chaerea to torture Quintilia at once, without delay, using Chaerea for bloody business and whatever required torment, in the belief that, to escape the charge of softness, he would carry it out all the more cruelly. Quintilia, being led to the torture, trod on the foot of one of her fellow conspirators, signaling him to take courage and not fear on her account, for she would endure it with fortitude. Chaerea tortured her cruelly, unwillingly, but under the necessity laid on him, and since she gave way in nothing, he brought her before Gaius in a state that gave no pleasure to those who looked on. Gaius, moved by the sight of Quintilia, so terribly disfigured by her sufferings, dropped the charge against both her and Pompedius, and honored her besides with a gift of money as some comfort for the disfigurement she had suffered, which had ruined the loveliness that had made her sufferings unbearable to behold.

This deeply troubled Chaerea, that he should be the cause, for men who deserved comfort even from Gaius, of such evils as had befallen them at his own hands; and he said to Clemens and Papinius — of whom Clemens held command over the armies, and Papinius was himself also a tribune — "Clemens, it is not for want of trying that we fail to carry out everything the emperor demands of us; for of those who conspired against his rule we have, by our own diligence and toil, killed some and tortured others to such a degree that even he pitied them — and with what virtue, then, are we led out at the head of the troops?" When Clemens fell silent, showing by his look and his blush that he bore what was ordered with shame, but judging it unsafe to draw them by word into speaking against the emperor's madness, out of concern for his own security, Chaerea, now emboldened, spoke freely of the dangers, laying out to him the terrible state that gripped the city and the government, and saying that it was Gaius who, in name, bore the responsibility for such things, but that for those who tried to examine the truth of the matter, it was I, Clemens, and Papinius here, and before us, you — we who inflict these tortures on Romans and on all mankind, serving not at Gaius's command but by our own judgment, though it lies within our power to put a stop to a man who already treats citizens and subjects alike with such outrage; we have become bodyguards and executioners in place of soldiers, and we carry these weapons not for the freedom or the rule of the Romans, but for the preservation of the man who enslaves both their bodies and their spirits, defiling ourselves daily with the blood of slaughter and the torture of our own people — until at last someone will perform the same service against us, on Gaius's behalf. For he will not treat us kindly on this account; rather he will look on us with suspicion, all the more because so many who have already perished paid this same price; for Gaius's anger will never come to rest, since its end lies not in justice but in pleasure. We ourselves will become targets in our turn, when instead it is our duty to secure for everyone freedom from conspiracy and from tyranny, and to vote ourselves release from danger.

Clemens was plainly seen to approve of Chaerea's purpose, but he urged him to keep silent, lest the talk, spreading to too many and disclosing what it would be best to keep hidden, should get abroad before the deed could be carried out, and the plotters be punished once the plan became known; for the present, he said, they should leave everything to hope and to what time would bring, since some chance aid might yet come their way — for he himself, on account of his age, had been deprived of the daring for such things, but as for those under you,

"...Chaerea, though I might perhaps suggest a safer plan once everything has been arranged and said, how could anyone contrive a more honorable one?" With that, Clemens withdrew into himself, turning over in his mind both what he had heard and what he himself had said. Chaerea, however, in his eagerness hurried off to Cornelius Sabinus, a military tribune whom he knew besides to be a man of note, a lover of freedom, and for that very reason hostile to the present state of affairs. He wanted to move quickly on what had been resolved, judging it good to bring such a man into the undertaking, and fearing too that word of it might leak out through Clemens — all the more since he reckoned delay and missed opportunities as the mark of men who let time slip away.

Since everything about the plan was welcome to Sabinus as well — a man of no less resolve than Chaerea, but one who, for lack of anyone he could safely confide in, had until then kept his own intentions to himself in silence — once he had found a man who would not only keep secret what he learned but declare his own purpose openly, he was roused all the more, and needed no urging from Chaerea to delay any longer. The two of them then turned to Minucianus, a man bound to them by his own pursuit of virtue and by his kinship of great-spiritedness, and one whom Gaius had come to suspect after the death of Lepidus — for Minucianus and Lepidus had been very close friends — as well as by the fear of the dangers that hung over himself. For Gaius was a terror to every man in office, since no one could tell against whom, or against how many, his madness would next be unleashed; and these men had made plain to one another their distress at the state of affairs, disclosing to each other directly both their thoughts and their hatred of Gaius, casting off the fear of danger — all the more since, perceiving each other's hatred of him, they had for that very reason never ceased to feel goodwill toward one another. Once they had made their approaches, since they were already in the habit, whenever they met, of holding Minucianus in honor for the pre-eminence of his standing — for he was the noblest of the citizens and the most praised on every count — Chaerea was all the more eager, whenever the subject came near, to be the first, if ever he met Minucianus, to ask what watchword he had received that day; for throughout the city there was talk of the insult done to Chaerea through the watchwords assigned to him. Delighted at the remark, Minucianus, without any hesitation, answered him, trusting him with such conversation and speaking to him directly.

"And you," he said, "are giving me a watchword of freedom. Thank you for rousing me to a boldness greater than I am used to summoning in myself; I need no further words to give me courage, if indeed this is your judgment too — we have shared the same purpose even before we came together to speak of it. I wear a single sword at my side, but it would serve for both of us. So come, let us take hold of the deed. Be our leader; command me to go wherever you wish, and I will go there, trusting in your help and your partnership in the work. Nor is there any lack of steel for men who bring their whole soul to the task — it is that very thing which makes steel itself effective. I have set out on this course not carried along by any hope of what I myself might gain from it; I have no leisure to weigh my own dangers, grieving as I am for the enslavement of a country that was once most free, for its laws stripped of their virtue, and for all mankind overtaken by ruin because of Gaius. I would deserve, with you as my judge, to be trusted in such a matter, since you think as they do and have not held yourself apart."

Minucianus, seeing the force of these words, embraced him warmly, praised his daring, and stood close beside him; and after this embrace, with prayers and mutual pledges, they parted. Some maintained, as confirming what had passed between them, that when Chaerea was entering the senate house a voice came from the crowd urging him on, bidding him carry through what had to be done and take the god as his ally; and Chaerea at first suspected that one of the conspirators had turned traitor and that he was being trapped, but in the end took it as encouragement — whether it was a warning given by one of those in the secret to spur him on, or the god who watches over human affairs lifting him up. By now the plot had spread among many, and all stood ready under arms, some of them senators, others knights, and as many of the soldiery as shared the secret; for there was no one who would not have counted Gaius's removal a piece of good fortune. Because of this all were eager, by whatever means each could manage, not to fall short willingly of a share in so virtuous an act; and, so far as each had zeal or power, all were roused, in word and in deed, toward the tyrant's killing — even Callistus, who was a freedman of Gaius and, alone among such men, had risen to the very height of power, a power amounting to nothing less than a rival tyranny, through the fear he inspired in everyone and the vastness of the wealth he had gathered.

He was in fact the most venal and the most insolent man there ever was, having used his authority far beyond all reasonable measure; and knowing well besides that Gaius's nature was incurable, and that once he had condemned a man nothing could ever call him back, and that he himself had many reasons to fear for his own safety — not least the size of his fortune — he had taken to secretly cultivating Claudius, going to sit beside him, in the hope that if the rule should pass to Claudius once Gaius was gone, he would already have laid the foundation of honor for himself through such past favors, and a claim on his goodwill. He even ventured to say that, though ordered to do away with Claudius by poison, he had found countless ways to draw out the matter for his own profit. Callistus made this claim in order to win Claudius's favor, but the truth was neither that Gaius was so set on destroying Claudius that he tolerated Callistus's excuses for long, nor that Callistus, when ordered to carry out the deed, took it as something to be wished for — for if he had played the villain with his master's letters, he would not have failed to collect his reward at once. Rather, it was by some divine power that Claudius was preserved through the worst of Gaius's madness, while Callistus merely made a show of having secured a favor that in truth he had never done him.

For Chaerea and his men, the daily delays were growing ever harder to bear, since many held back; but Chaerea himself was in no way willing to put off action, reckoning every occasion suitable for the deed. Often enough an opportunity presented itself: when Gaius went up to the Capitol, or during the sacrifices offered for his daughter, he might have been pushed headlong from the palace roof as he stood scattering gold and silver coin to the crowd below — the roof there is high and looks out over the forum — or again during the performances of the mysteries he was arranging, since on all such occasions he was off his guard, both because he took care to conduct himself becomingly in them and because he had given up expecting to be the target of any attack, trusting that even the gods' power over death would come to his aid; and if nothing held sacred stood in the way, he thought he himself would have the strength to kill Gaius even unarmed. Such was the pitch of eagerness with which Chaerea held the conspirators, fearing that the opportunities would slip away.

They, for their part, could see that he wanted only what was right and was pressing for their common good; nevertheless they asked him to wait a little longer, lest, if some mishap attended the attempt, they should throw the city into turmoil with inquiries after those who shared the secret, and Gaius, forewarned, should bar the way to courage still more firmly against anyone who tried again later. It would be better, they said, to seize the moment while the games were being celebrated on the Palatine — held in honor of the first Caesar who had taken power from the people for himself, in a small wooden structure erected before the palace, where the noble Romans watch together with their wives and children, and Caesar too. It would be an easy matter, with tens of thousands of people packed into so small a space, for the bodyguard, once he entered, to have no room to act on his behalf, even if some of them were eager to help him. Chaerea held to this plan; but when the games came and, though it had been decided to strike on the very first day, fortune proved stronger than their plan and granted one delay after another, so that all three lawful days of the festival slipped by, it was only on the last of them that the deed was at last carried out. Chaerea called the conspirators together and said:

"Long enough has the time already passed for us to be reproached for our delay over a course resolved on with such courage; and it would be a terrible thing if, once word gets out, the deed should fall through and Gaius grow still more insolent. Do we not see that we are cutting away from our own freedom as many days as we grant, as a gift, to the growth of Gaius's tyranny — when instead we ought to be free from fear from this moment on, and, by giving others the cause of their happiness, stand forever after in the great wonder and honor of those who come after us?" When the others could neither speak against him, since there was nothing honorable in doing so, nor yet openly embrace the deed, but stood struck dumb in silence, he said, "Why, gentlemen, do we go on delaying? Do you not see that today is the last day of the festival, and that Gaius is about to sail away? He has made ready to sail for Alexandria, to see Egypt for himself. It would be a fine thing for us to let slip from our own hands the shame that will fall on Roman pride, paraded through both land and sea. How could we not rightly judge ourselves shamed by what is to come, if some Egyptian were to kill him, refusing to consider his insolence tolerable for men born free? For my part I will endure your excuses no longer; I will go to meet the danger myself this very day, welcoming with pleasure whatever may come of it, and I will not put it off any further, if it can be done. For what could be more unbearable to a man of spirit than that someone else should kill Gaius while I am still alive, robbing me of the honor of this deed?"

Having said this, he set out at once to accomplish the act, and put courage into the rest; and all were seized with a passion to join the undertaking without any further delay. At dawn he was on the Palatine as usual, girt with the sword of the equestrian order — for it was the custom for military tribunes, once so girded, to ask the emperor for the day's watchword, and this happened to be the day on which it fell to Chaerea to receive it. Just then a crowd was gathering on the Palatine to secure seats for the show, amid much noise and jostling, Gaius taking delight in the people's eagerness for such spectacles; for this reason no place had been set apart, either for the senate or for the knights, but men and women sat mixed together in disorder, and free men were mingled with slaves.

When his procession had gone forth, Gaius offered sacrifice to the deified Augustus, in whose honor the games were being held, and as one of the victims fell, it happened that the toga of Asprenas, one of the senators, was drenched with its blood. This made Gaius laugh, but it proved to be an omen made plain for Asprenas, since he was killed immediately after Gaius. It is recorded that Gaius, contrary to his own nature, was remarkably affable that day, and that by his charm in conversation he astonished everyone who happened to be present. After the sacrifice he turned to the games and took his seat, with the most distinguished of his companions around him. The theater was rebuilt each year in this fashion: it had two doors, one leading to an open courtyard, the other to a colonnade, for entrances and exits, so that those shut inside would not be thrown into confusion; and within the wooden structure itself, partitions marked off a further space where the performers and all manner of entertainers could move about.

While the crowd sat together, with Chaerea and the military tribunes not far from Gaius — Caesar occupied the right wing of the theater — a certain Bathybius, a senator of praetorian rank, asked Cluvius, a man of consular rank sitting beside him, whether any rumor of a coming upheaval had reached him, taking care as he spoke not to be overheard. When Cluvius said he had heard nothing, Bathybius replied, "Well then, Cluvius, a contest of tyrannicide lies before us." And Cluvius said, "My good man, be quiet — let none of the other Achaeans hear that story."

As a great abundance of fruit was showered on the spectators, along with many birds of the kind prized for their rarity by those who caught them, Gaius watched with delight the scrambles and struggles of the crowd as they claimed the prizes for themselves. It was there, too, that two omens are said to have occurred: a mime was performed in which a captured chieftain is crucified, and then a dancer performed a piece about Cinyras, in which both he and his daughter Myrrha are killed, with a great deal of artificial blood poured out, both around the crucified man and around the figures of Cinyras. It is also agreed that this was the very day on which Pausanias, one of his own companions, killed Philip son of Amyntas, king of the Macedonians, as he was entering the theater.

As Gaius hesitated over whether to remain to the end of the show, since it was the last day, or to bathe and dine and return afterward as he had done on the previous days, Minucianus, who was sitting above Gaius and feared that the opportunity might come to nothing, rose when he saw that Chaerea had already gone out ahead of him, and hurried to go and encourage him. But Gaius caught hold of his cloak, seemingly in friendliness, and said, "Where are you off to, my good man?" Minucianus, out of what seemed respect for Caesar, sat back down, but his fear got the better of him, and after a short pause he rose again. Gaius put no obstacle in his way as he left, supposing he was going out for some necessary reason. Ambronas, too, was urging Gaius, as before, to withdraw for his bath and his meal and then come back in, since he too wanted the plan brought to its completion.

Meanwhile Chaerea's men were stationing one another wherever the moment required, each straining to hold his assigned post and not desert it. They were growing vexed at the delay and at the postponement of what lay in their hands, especially since it was already about the ninth hour of the day. As Gaius lingered, Chaerea grew eager to force his way in upon him where he sat, though he knew well this would mean a great slaughter of the senators and of as many knights as were present; yet, fearful as he was, he remained eager, judging it a good thing, in purchasing safety and freedom for everyone, to count the fate of those who would perish as a small price. And so, with everyone now turning back toward the theater...

At the signal of his entrance Gaius rose to his feet, and a commotion broke out; the conspirators, too, turned back and began pushing against the crowd, ostensibly because they were annoyed at Gaius, but in reality wanting to isolate him from anyone who might come to his defense, so that they could get at the business of killing him unopposed. Going ahead of him were Claudius, his uncle, and Marcus Vinicius, his sister's husband, and also Valerius Asiaticus, whom not even the conspirators, had they wished, had the power to bar from his path, out of respect for their rank; Gaius himself followed with Paulus Arruntius. Once he was inside the palace, he left the direct route along which the attendant slaves were stationed and the men around Claudius were walking ahead, and turned instead down a quiet passage, meaning to go to a spot near the baths and, at the same time, to look over some boys who had arrived from Asia, a procession of whom was then in progress, with hymns for the mysteries he was celebrating, and others rehearsing war-dances to be performed in the theaters. Chaerea met him there and asked for the watchword. When Gaius answered with one of the words kept on hand for mockery, Chaerea did not hesitate: he hurled abuse at Gaius, drew his sword, and struck a violent blow — but it was not a fatal one.

Some indeed say it happened by Chaerea's design, that he meant not to kill Gaius with a single stroke but to punish him more severely with a multitude of wounds. I myself do not find this account plausible, since in actions of this kind fear leaves no room for calculation; and if Chaerea really thought that way, I judge him, of all men, to have been supremely foolish — indulging his anger for the sake of pleasure rather than securing, by one swift blow, deliverance from danger for himself and his fellow conspirators. For many means of rescue might still have come to Gaius's aid had he not lost his life before they could act, and then Chaerea would have had to answer not for punishing Gaius but for the fate of himself and his friends — when in fact, had he struck well and kept silent afterward, he might have slipped past the wrath of Gaius's defenders, rather than risk, with the outcome still uncertain even in success, losing both himself and the opportunity through such reckless conduct. This I leave for anyone to judge as he pleases. Gaius, reeling from the pain of the blow — for the sword, aimed at the point between shoulder and neck, was stopped from going deeper by the collarbone — neither cried out from the shock nor called upon any of his friends, whether from disbelief or sheer bewilderment, but groaning under the pain, he threw what strength remained into flight.

Cornelius Sabinus caught him, his resolve already broken, and shoved him down; and as he sank to his knees, a crowd gathered around him and, at a single signal, cut him down with their swords, urging one another on and vying to outdo each other. Last of all came Aquila, who — this is agreed by everyone — dealt the blow that finished him for certain.

One might rightly credit the whole deed to Chaerea. For even though it was carried out with the help of many others, he was the one who first conceived it, having anticipated all the rest by far, and he was the first to declare it boldly to the others; and once they had taken up his proposal for the killing, he gathered together the scattered participants and organized the entire affair with sound judgment, proving far superior to the rest wherever a plan needed to be put forward, and he won them over with persuasive words, so that although they had hesitated, he brought them all to act. And when the moment came to use the hand, he showed himself here too the first to charge, the first to lay hold of the killing by his own courage, making the way easy for the others and Gaius already as good as dead — so that whatever the rest went on to do might justly be credited to Chaerea's resolve, his courage, and the labor of their hands. Gaius, then, having met his end in this fashion, lay there, his life drained out from the sheer number of his wounds.

As for Chaerea and his companions, once Gaius was already finished off, they saw that it was impossible to save themselves by returning the way they had come, both from dread of what had happened — for it was no small danger for men who had killed the emperor, given the people's foolish devotion to him and their affection for him, and given that the soldiers would carry out the search for his killers with more than a little bloodshed — and also because the streets along which they had done the deed were narrow, and a great crowd, together with the attendants and however many soldiers were on guard duty for the emperor that day, had blocked them off. They therefore went by other routes and arrived at the house of Germanicus, Gaius's father, whom they had just killed, a house connected to the palace, since the whole complex was one continuous building, extended by each successive ruler through his own additions — some parts even taking their name from the ruler who had begun the construction, though it was never finished in his reign. Having slipped through the crowd, they found themselves, for the moment, safe from pursuit, since the disaster was still unknown — that the man who held the empire had been killed.

The first to learn of Gaius's death were the Germans. These were bodyguards who bore the name of the nation from which they had been recruited, forming a Celtic unit of their own. It is a national trait of theirs to give themselves over to rage, a thing rare among other barbarian peoples, because they are less inclined to let reason govern their actions; they are powerful in body and, charging with their first onset against whomever they take for enemies, achieve great results. These men, on learning of Gaius's murder, were deeply grieved — not because they judged the matter by any standard of right, but by their own advantage, and above all because Gaius had been dear to them, having bought their loyalty with gifts of money. They drew their swords — their commander was Sabinus, a tribune not through the merit and nobility of his ancestors, for he had in fact been a gladiator, but one who had won, through sheer bodily strength, the standing needed to command such men — and they went through the house searching for Caesar's killers. They cut down Asprenas, who happened to run into them first — the man whose robe, as I have said earlier, had been stained by the blood of the sacrificial victims, an omen that boded nothing good for what followed. Second came Norbanus, one of the most distinguished of citizens, who counted many consuls among his ancestors, and who put up resistance; but they showed no regard at all for his rank, and being the stronger, wrested the sword from the first man who attacked him, making it plain he did not intend to die without a fight — until, surrounded at last by a mass of assailants, he fell under the weight of his wounds. Third was Anteius, one of the senators, who along with a few others had not run into the Germans by chance, as the previous men had, but out of a longing to see for himself, and take pleasure in the sight of, Gaius lying dead, so as to satisfy an old hatred: Gaius had driven Anteius's father, who bore the same name, into exile and, not content with that, had had him killed by soldiers sent after him. And so Anteius had come, for this reason, to gladden himself with the sight of the corpse; but when the household grew alarmed, he thought to hide himself, and yet did not escape the Germans, whose thoroughness in the search matched their fury in the killing, falling alike on the guilty and the innocent. Such was the death of these men.

When word of Gaius's death reached the theater, there was shock and disbelief. Some, even those who received news of his destruction with great pleasure and had long counted it a blessing were it ever to happen, were nonetheless incredulous, out of fear. Others were altogether without hope that anything of the kind had befallen Gaius, and would not credit the report as true, since they thought it impossible that a man of such power could meet such an end. These were the women, the children, whatever slaves there were, and some of the soldiers — the soldiers because they served for pay and were nothing but partners in his tyranny, using their share in his outrages to extort both honor and profit from the leading citizens; the women's quarters and the younger crowd, as a mob will, were captivated by the pleasures of public shows, gladiatorial exhibitions, and distributions of meat — things done, in name, to gratify the people, but in truth to feed, out of Gaius's own madness, his cruelty. The slaves, for their part, having gained a voice of their own and license to defy their masters, had no protection against anyone who abused them except the favor his rule afforded them; for it was easy for them, by lying accusations against their owners, to be believed, and by denouncing their property to have both freedom and wealth granted them as the price of their testimony, since an eighth share of the estate was held out to them as their prize.

As for the nobility, even where the report seemed credible to some — whether because they had known of the plot beforehand, or because they simply wished it true and so believed it readily — they gave it away to no one, concealing in silence not only their joy at the news but even their opinion of whether it was true, some fearing that, should their hopes prove false, they would be punished for having rushed to betray their feelings; others, who knew for certain because they had shared in the plot, hid it all the more from one another, each ignorant of the others' involvement, and afraid that if they spoke to the wrong man — one to whom the continuance of the tyranny was advantageous — they would, with Gaius still alive, be denounced and punished once the informer came forward. For another rumor had also spread, that he had indeed been wounded but had not died, and was alive under the care of physicians. No one trusted anyone else enough to declare his own view with confidence, for whoever showed himself a friend of Gaius became suspect of favoring the tyranny out of genuine goodwill toward it, while whoever showed hatred toward him found that the very absence of goodwill in the man he spoke to was enough to make his words be doubted. It was even said by some — and these did the most to extinguish the nobles' cheerful hope — that Gaius, careless of danger and entirely unconcerned about his wounds, had gone out, just as he was, drenched in blood, into the forum, and was there addressing the people. This, however, was mere conjecture, born of the reckless wish of those eager to spread such talk, and taken by their hearers however they pleased; still, no one abandoned his hiding place, for fear of the charge that would fall on anyone who came out too soon — since they had no confidence that judgment upon them would be made on grounds they thought fair, but rather on whatever grounds their accusers and their judges chose to imagine.

When a crowd of Germans, swords drawn, surrounded the theater, every spectator expected to be killed, and at each new entrance panic seized them, as though they were about to be cut down on the spot; they were at a loss, with neither the courage to leave nor confidence that staying inside the theater was safe. As the Germans began bursting in, a cry rang out through the theater, the crowd turning to plead with the soldiers, protesting that they had known nothing of what had been plotted by the conspirators — if indeed there had been a plot — nor of what had happened afterward. They begged, therefore, to be spared, and not made to suffer punishment for another man's daring when they themselves were not even implicated, asking that the search for the actual perpetrators be carried out first, and only then whatever was found to be true be acted upon. Such words, and more besides, they spoke amid tears and the beating of their breasts, calling on the gods and pleading whatever the danger standing so near taught them to say, as anyone fighting for his life would. At this the soldiers' anger broke, and they repented of their design against the spectators — for it seemed cruel even to men so far hardened, once they had already set up the heads of Asprenas and his companions upon the altar. At the sight of these heads the spectators were moved all the more, both out of regard for the men's rank and out of pity for their suffering, so that they themselves, having come through dangers no less severe, came close to being stirred up in turn — with an outcome that, had it run its course, no one could have foretold.

So it was that even those who hated Gaius eagerly, and with justice, were kept from the joy of having rid the country of him, since they too had stood on the edge of destruction along with him, and confidence in their own survival had not, even now, become secure. There was a certain Euarestus Arruntius, one of the public auctioneers, who through that trade had developed a powerful voice, and had acquired wealth to rival the richest of the Romans, and possessed the influence to do as he wished in the city, both then and later. This man, composing himself into as mournful a bearing as he could manage — though he hated Gaius as much as any man — judged nevertheless that self-restraint, and a plan aimed at securing his own safety, mattered more than the pleasure of the moment. Having arranged himself with all the trappings a man might assume for the loss of his dearest possessions, he came forward into the theater and announced Gaius's death, and put a stop to the people's continuing any longer in ignorance of what had happened. By this time Stilas Arruntius, too, had arrived, calling off the Germans, and the tribunes with him ordering them to lay down their weapons and making clear to them that Gaius was dead.

This, above all, was what most surely saved those gathered in the theater, and everyone who happened, in any way, to fall in with the Germans; for had hope reached them that Gaius still lay alive and breathing, there is no atrocity from which they would have held back. Such was the surplus of their devotion to him that they would have been ready, even at the cost of their own lives, to see that no plot against him went unavenged, sharing in so great a misfortune alongside him. They ceased their furious pursuit of vengeance once clear word of his death reached them, both because it would now be pointless to display such zealous devotion to a man who, being dead, could no longer reward them for it, and out of fear that if they pressed their violence further, it might draw the attention of the Senate, should power come to rest with it, or of whatever ruler succeeded him. And so the Germans, though only with difficulty, ceased at last from the frenzy that had seized them over Gaius's death. Chaerea, meanwhile, was greatly afraid on Minucianus's account, lest he be destroyed by falling in with the Germans' madness, and went around to each of the soldiers, begging them to look to Minucianus's safety, and taking great pains that he not perish. Clemens rescued Minucianus — for he had been brought before him — releasing him along with many other senators, bearing witness to the justice of the deed and to the courage of those who had conceived it and had not shrunk from carrying it out. Tyranny, he said, may for a time rise up on the pleasure taken in its own outrages, but those who wield it are not granted, in the end, a fortunate departure from life, since the hatred of virtue stands set against it, but rather a misfortune of the kind that in fact overtook Gaius, at the hands of those who rose up and organized the attack against him, he himself

Gaius had come to be such a man, and by the very outrages that made him unbearable had taught, in destroying the law's providence, that his own dearest kin should turn to war against him; so that now, though in name it is these men who have killed Gaius, in fact he lies destroyed by his own hand.

By now the theater too was rising up out of the fear that had at first gripped it so bitterly, only gradually relenting. The reason for its eagerness was this: Alcyon the physician, having been swept up as though to attend to some of the wounded, sent away those with him on the pretext that they too were going to fetch what was needed for the wounded's treatment, but in truth so that they might learn of the danger that had arisen. Meanwhile the senate met, and the people gathered, as was their custom, for assembly in the forum, to search out the murderers of Gaius — the people very eagerly, and the senate too, it seemed.

There was a certain Valerius Asiaticus, a man of consular rank. He came forward before the people, and when they were in an uproar and treated it as an outrage that the killer of the emperor was still unknown, since all of them eagerly asked him who the man responsible was, he said, "Would that it were I."

The consuls also published an edict denouncing Gaius, and ordering the people and the soldiers to return to their own business — promising the people great hope of relief, and the soldiers honors, if they remained orderly and were not led into any of their usual violence. For there was fear that, should they turn savage, the city would suffer through their plundering and through the looting of temples.

By now the whole body of senators had already assembled, and above all those who had joined in the murder of Gaius, already acting with boldness and holding themselves in great pride, as though affairs now rested entirely in their hands. While matters stood thus, Claudius was suddenly seized from his house; for the soldiers, having held a meeting among themselves, deliberated with one another about what should be done, and concluded that a democracy could never come about, given power over affairs of such magnitude, and that even if it were achieved, gaining such rule would not turn out for their own good; and that if any one man should hold command, it would go badly for them in every way unless they had made themselves partners in his power.

It seemed good to them, then, while the matter was still undecided, to choose Claudius as their leader — he was the dead man's uncle, and of all those gathered in the senate none was more distinguished, both in the excellence of his ancestors and in the learning he himself had pursued — and that once established as emperor he should be honored fittingly and rewarded with gifts. This they resolved, and carried out at once. Claudius, then, had been seized by the soldiery.

Gnaeus Sentius Saturninus, though he had learned of Claudius's seizure and that he was laying claim to power — seemingly against his will, but in truth by his own wish as well — came forward before the senate and, quite unshaken, delivered, as befits free and noble men, this exhortation:

"Even though it may seem past belief, Romans, because after so long a time it comes unhoped for, still we possess the standing of free men — uncertain how long it will last, resting as it does on the will of the gods who have granted it, but sufficient to bring us joy, and, should we be deprived of it, sufficient in itself to count as happiness. A single hour is enough for those who have a sense of virtue, if it is lived out with a mind wholly its own, in a fatherland governed by its own laws — the laws under which it once flourished. As for me, I can forget the freedom of earlier days, since I came after it was gone; but the freedom of now I drink in without ever being satisfied, and I count blessed those who were born and raised in it, and I judge these men worthy of honor no less than the gods — men who have, late as it is, and even at this stage of our lives, given us a taste of it. May its security remain for the whole age to come; but even this single day would be enough, for our younger men, and for those of us grown old it will be reckoned a lifetime — provided the elder among us, having had our share of its blessings, may now depart this life, and the younger have, as an education in virtue, this good order established for them by the very men from whom we are descended. And now, given the present hour, nothing should matter more to us than to live with virtue, which alone secures freedom for mankind. The events of old I know only by hearsay, but from what I have witnessed with my own eyes I have learned with how many evils tyrannies fill our commonwealths — hindering every virtue, stripping the high-minded of their freedom, and turning themselves into teachers of flattery and fear, because they leave everything not to the wisdom of the laws but to the anger of those who rule. From the time Julius Caesar set his mind on overthrowing the republic, and by force overrode the order of the laws and threw the state into confusion — making himself stronger than justice, yet weaker than whatever might bring him private pleasure — there is no evil the city has not worn through, as all those who succeeded him in power vied with one another to erase the ways of our fathers and to leave the citizens as bereft as possible of noble men. They believed it made for their own safety to keep company with counterfeit men, and not merely to diminish something of the pride of those trusted to excel in virtue, but to condemn them utterly to destruction. And though many such men displayed things unbearable, each in his own rule, Gaius alone, who died today, showed himself more terrible than all of them, unleashing an untutored rage not only against his fellow citizens but even against his own kin and friends, inflicting ever greater evils on everyone alike and exacting punishment unjustly, growing savage toward men and toward the gods in equal measure. For under tyranny pleasure is not simply enjoyed, nor does its insolence stop at wronging property and wives; the whole gain lies in troubling the enemy's entire household. And everything free is an enemy to tyranny, so that it cannot be won over to goodwill, nor can those it has wronged ever count their sufferings as small. Knowing full well what evils they have filled others with, some tyrants show great-spirited contempt toward fortune, but, unable to hide from themselves what they have done, believe they can win freedom from suspicion in only one way — by destroying utterly those they suspect. Now that we are rid of such evils, and have made ourselves accountable to one another — which is the surest guarantee a commonwealth can have, both for present goodwill and for future security from conspiracy, and so that credit may belong properly to whoever guides the city rightly — it is right that we take thought for this, since its benefit falls to the common good; and let anyone displeased with the proposals already made state his own opinion in reply, without this bringing him any danger at all, since whoever presides will be no unanswerable master with power to harm the city and, as sole ruler, remove those who have spoken against him. Nothing new nourishes tyranny except idleness and the failure to oppose anything it wills. Overcome by the pleasantness of peace, and having learned to live after the manner of slaves, all of us who have heard of irremediable disasters and seen the evils befalling our neighbors have, out of fear of dying with honor, endured our own ends instead with the utmost shame. First, then, we must bestow the greatest honors there are upon those who removed the tyrant, and above all upon Cassius Chaerea; for with the gods' help this one man has shown himself the provider of our freedom, both in judgment and by his own hand. It is right not to forget this, but, since he took counsel for our freedom against the tyranny and at the same time faced the danger first, to vote him honors for that freedom, and let this be declared the first act done under no compulsion. It is the noblest deed, and one fitting free men, to repay their benefactors — and such a man has this one been toward all of us, in no way like Cassius and Brutus, who killed Gaius Julius Caesar; for they rekindled for the city the beginnings of civil strife and civil wars, whereas this man, along with killing the tyrant, has also delivered the city from the horrors that would have followed from it."

Such were the words Sentius used, and the senators received them with pleasure, as did all the equestrians who were present. Then a certain Trebellius Maximus leapt up and pulled the ring off Sentius's finger — a stone engraved with an image of Gaius was set in it — because in the eagerness of his speaking, and of what he intended to do, he had, it seemed, forgotten it was there; and the engraving was broken. Night had already come on far, and Chaerea asked the consuls for the watchword, and they gave "Liberty." What was happening seemed to them a wonder, almost past belief: for it was the hundredth year since they had first been deprived of the republic that the giving of the watchword passed back to the consuls — since these men had been masters of the soldiery before the city fell under tyranny. Chaerea, having received the watchword, handed it on to the soldiers stationed with the senate. They numbered four cohorts, for whom having no king was more honorable than tyranny.

These men then withdrew with their tribunes, and by now the people too were departing, full of joy, hope, and high spirit over the man who had won leadership for them — no longer over whoever happened to preside. And Chaerea was everything to them.

Chaerea, for his part, thought it a terrible thing that Gaius's daughter and wife should still be alive, and that ruin should not fall on his whole household together with him, since whatever of them remained would be left standing for the ruin of the city and its laws; and being eager besides to bring his own purpose to completion and to fully satisfy his hatred of Gaius, he sent out Julius Lupus, one of the tribunes, to kill Gaius's wife and daughter. Since Lupus was a relative of Clemens, they assigned him this service so that, having taken part even in such acts, he might be honored by his fellow citizens for the virtue of the tyrannicide, as one who could be thought to have shared from the start in the whole plot among those who first conspired together.

But to some of the conspirators it seemed a cruel thing to use such violence against the woman, since Gaius, they thought, had done everything driven by his own nature rather than by her counsel — the very acts that had worn the city out with the evils that overtook it, and by which whatever was the flower of its citizens had perished. Others, however, laid the responsibility for such things on her own design, and blamed her for all the evils Gaius had done, saying she had given Gaius a drug that enslaved his mind and had contrived to draw him into love for her, so that, once he had been driven into madness, everything that followed was of her own making, built up against the fortunes of the Roman people and of the world subject to them. In the end it was decided that she should die — for those who tried to delay it could do nothing to help her — and Lupus was sent. He wasted no time in any hesitation of his own, so as not to fail to serve those who had sent him at the right moment, wishing to be blameless in nothing that concerned the people's benefit.

Coming to the palace, he found Caesonia, Gaius's wife, lying beside her husband's body where it had fallen to the ground, deprived in her misfortune of everything the law would grant the dead, smeared with blood from his wounds, overwhelmed with grief, her daughter flung down beside her. Amid all this, nothing was to be heard from her but reproach of Gaius, for not having found convincing what she had so often foretold to him. This remark was interpreted both ways at the time, and still today lies open to the same treatment, according to whatever inclination the minds of those who hear it choose to give it. Some said it meant that she had advised him to abandon his madness and govern the citizens with moderation and virtue rather than savagery, and that it was for following his own way instead that he perished. Others said that when word of the conspirators had reached Gaius, she had urged him to deal with all of them at once without delay, so as to stand clear of danger even if they were guilty of nothing, and that this was the very thing now being thrown back at her as a reproach — that though she had foretold it, he had proved too soft-hearted to act.

Such, then, were the things said about Caesonia, and this was what people thought of her. Now when she saw Lupus approaching, she pointed out Gaius's body to him and, with wailing and tears, begged him to come nearer. But when she saw him standing rigid in his resolve, coming no closer, like a man bent on a deed not to his own liking, she recognized what he had come to do, and bared her throat for the blow, crying out most eagerly the sort of things natural to those who have so plainly come to despair of life, urging him not to delay in bringing to completion the drama already resolved upon against them. And so, with great courage, she died at Lupus's hand, and after her the little daughter as well. Lupus hurried to report all this to Chaerea and his men.

Gaius, then, died in this way, having ruled the Romans for a fourth year lacking four months — a man who, even before he came to power, was perverse and had reached the very extreme of wickedness, a slave to pleasure and a friend to slander, cowed by whatever was truly frightening and, for that very reason, most murderous toward whatever he dared face, glutting his power in one thing alone — committing outrage against those toward whom he least should have shown it — driven by an irrational arrogance, and making his profit out of killing and lawbreaking. He was eager both to be and to seem greater than what is divine and lawful, yet was a slave to the praise of the crowd, and counted as virtue everything the law judges shameful and punishes. He forgot friendship, however great and however deeply founded, toward anyone he had once grown angry with, through the shock of punishing even the smallest offenses, and he regarded everything allied with virtue as his enemy, brooking no contradiction in whatever his desire commanded. Hence he even had relations with his own full sister, and it was from this above all that the citizens' hatred of him began to grow more intense, since a thing unheard of for so long a time invited both disbelief and enmity toward the one who had done it.

One could point to no achievement of his reign that benefited either the people around him or those who would come after, except for the project he conceived at Rhegium and Sicily for the reception of the grain ships from Egypt. This, admittedly, was a very great and useful undertaking for sailors, yet it was never brought to completion, but was left half-finished because his enthusiasm for it grew dull. The cause was his devotion to worthless things and his spending on pleasures which, taken by themselves, might have done him good but which, in fact, drained away the ambition he had once professed for higher pursuits.

In other respects he was an excellent speaker, thoroughly trained in both the Greek language and the ancestral tongue of the Romans, and he could grasp on the spot the arguments composed by others, even those built up over a long time, and reply to them extempore, so that in the greatest matters he appeared, through sheer quickness, more persuasive than anyone else, both from a natural facility for the task and because he had added to that facility the strength that comes from practiced effort. For being the son of Tiberius's nephew, whose successor he became, he was under great compulsion to devote himself to education, since Tiberius himself excelled and took the first place in it, and Gaius shared this devotion to fine learning, deferring to the letters of a kinsman and a ruler, and so he came to hold first place among the citizens of his time.

And yet the goods he had gathered from his education proved unable to withstand the ruin that overtook him through the possession of power. So hard is it to acquire the virtue of self-control for those who have at their ease the freedom to act without being called to account. He made use of friends, all of them men of worth, at the outset, driven by his education and his desire for glory to emulate his betters, until, once his excess of insolence turned their goodwill toward him into a hatred that grew up secretly within them, he was plotted against by them and died.

Claudius, as I said above, once the breach with the ways of Gaius had occurred and the household was thrown into confusion by the calamity of Caesar's death, being at a loss over how to save himself, took refuge in a certain narrow passage and hid himself there, suspecting no cause for danger except his own high birth. For as a private citizen he had lived modestly and was content with what he had, devoting himself to learning, above all Greek learning, and keeping himself in every way apart from anything associated with turmoil.

At that moment, with panic gripping the crowd and the whole palace filled with soldierly madness, cowardice, and disorder among men who, private citizens as it were, had taken up the role of bodyguards, those attached to the so-called general staff, which is the most respectable part of the army, were deliberating about what should be done, while those who happened to be present set little store by vengeance for Gaius, since his fortunes had justly come round upon him, and instead considered rather how their own affairs might turn out well, and how the Germans among the executioners, who acted out of their own savagery rather than out of concern for the common good, might be dealt with in reprisal.

Claudius was thrown into confusion by all this, fearing for his safety, especially since he had seen the heads of Asprenas and his companions being carried past. He stood in a certain recess reached by a few steps, keeping himself concealed in the darkness there. And Gratus, one of the soldiers attached to the palace, caught sight of him, and being unable, because of the darkness, to make out clearly who it was, but not disposed to doubt that the man crouching there was indeed a man, came closer, and when Claudius wished to draw back he pressed on and, seizing him, recognized him. "This is Germanicus," he said to those following him, "let us set him up as our leader, carrying him along with us."

But Claudius, seeing that they were prepared for plunder and fearing that he might die by the same violence as Gaius, begged them to spare him, reminding them of how inoffensive he had been and how he had taken no forethought for what had happened. Gratus, smiling, took hold of his right hand and said, "Stop being petty about your safety; you ought instead to be thinking grandly about the rule which the gods, having taken it from Gaius, have granted to your virtue, having taken thought for the world. Come, then, and take up the throne of your ancestors."

And they lifted him up, since he was scarcely able to walk on his own feet, from both fear and joy at what had been said. More and more of the bodyguards now gathered around Gratus, and seeing Claudius being led away, they thought he was being dragged off to punishment for the losses he had suffered — a man who had lived his whole life inoffensively and had faced no small dangers during the reign of Gaius. Some of them thought it right to hand his case over to the consuls for judgment.

As more and more of the soldiery gathered, the crowd began to scatter, and there was no way forward for Claudius because of his physical weakness, since even the men carrying his litter, when the flight broke out around the moment of his seizure, saved themselves, giving up hope for their master's safety. When they reached the open space of the Palatine — which, tradition tells us, was the first part of the city of Rome to be inhabited — and were already laying hold of the public quarter, the crowd of soldiers flocking to them grew much larger, welcoming the sight of Claudius with joy, and they were most eager to set the man up as emperor, both out of goodwill toward Germanicus, whose brother he was and who had left behind, for all who had known him, a memory greatly to his credit.

A further consideration occurred to them too: the greed of those who held power in the senate, and all the wrongs committed under the former administration. Besides, they took note of the impracticality of the whole business, and reflected that if power reverted once more to a single ruler, the dangers to them would come through the one man who had won it, whoever should be granted it, whereas if by their goodwill Claudius took it, he would remember the favor and repay them with honor sufficient for such a service.

These thoughts they turned over among themselves and privately, and told to everyone they met along the way, and those who heard readily accepted the proposal, and closing ranks and pressing in around him, they carried him on their shoulders to the camp, so that their haste might not be hindered.

Meanwhile opinion was divided among the people and among the senators. Some, who longed for their former dignity and were eager to seize the moment to escape from the slavery that the insolence of tyrants had imposed on them, hoped that the seizure of Claudius would spare them civil strife of the kind that had once occurred under Pompey, if this man were established as emperor. The people, on the other hand, out of envy toward the senate and knowing that emperors served as a check on its greed and as their own refuge, rejoiced at Claudius's seizure.

When the senate learned that Claudius had been brought to the camp by the soldiers, it sent to him men of distinction from its own number, who were to instruct him that he must not use force to hold onto power, but should yield to the senate, since he was but one man among so many, giving way and, in accordance with the law, surrendering to it the oversight of public affairs; that he should remember what the earlier tyrants had done to harm the city, and what dangers he himself had run together with the senators under Gaius, and that he should not, because he hated the oppressiveness of the tyranny practiced by others, take courage of his own accord to commit the same outrage against his country.

If he obeyed, he would be assured lasting honors, such as free citizens would vote him, and by the law's concession both ruler and ruled would gain the credit of virtuous conduct. But if he grew reckless, learning nothing from the death of Gaius, they themselves would certainly not permit it, for their forces were considerable, they had an abundance of arms, and a multitude of slaves who could be made use of. Fortune and hope, moreover, counted for much, and the gods gave their aid not to just anyone, but to those who conducted their struggles with virtue and honor — and such, they said, were those who fought for the freedom of their country.

The envoys, Veranius and Brochus, both of whom were tribunes, delivered this message, and falling at his knees they implored him earnestly not to plunge the city into war and calamity, seeing that Claudius was already surrounded by a great mass of soldiers and that the consuls counted for nothing beside him. If he desired power, let him accept it as given by the senate; for it was a happier and more prosperous thing to receive rule not through violence but through the goodwill of those who granted it.

Claudius, knowing full well with what boldness they had been sent, for the present turned toward greater moderation in line with their wishes; yet, roused both by fear on their account and by the confidence of the soldiers, and by King Agrippa's urging that he not let slip from his hands so great a power that had come to him unbidden, he acted as one would expect a man to act who had been raised to honor by Gaius himself. For he had taken charge of Gaius's corpse, laid it out on a bier, dressed it as decently as circumstances allowed, and withdrawn to the bodyguards, announcing that Gaius was alive, though suffering from his wounds, and saying that physicians would come to him. But on learning of Claudius's seizure by the soldiers, he hurried to him and, finding him in confusion and ready to yield to the senate, he roused him to lay claim instead to the rule.

Having said this to Claudius, he went over to his side; and when the senate summoned him back, he anointed his head with perfumes, as though he were just returning from some social gathering, and appeared before them, and they asked him what Claudius had done. When he told them the truth and they further inquired what view he held about the whole situation, he was ready in words to die for the senate's honor, but he bade them consider, apart from what gave them pleasure, whatever served their advantage; for those who aspired to power needed both arms and soldiers to defend them, lest, being unprepared, they should come to grief in this venture. When the senate answered that it would supply an abundance of arms and money, and that it already had part of an army assembled, the rest to be raised by freeing slaves,

"It would be possible, senators," said Agrippa, taking up the matter, "to do whatever your spirit prompts, but I must say, without hesitation, since my words are spoken for your safety: you know that the army fighting for Claudius has long practice in soldiering, whereas our forces will be a motley crowd, including those unexpectedly freed from slavery, and hard to control. We shall be fighting trained men after putting forward men who do not even know how to draw a sword. It seems to me, therefore, that we should send envoys to persuade Claudius to lay down his power, and I am ready myself to go on such an embassy."

So he spoke, and when they agreed, he was sent along with others; and privately he described to Claudius the senate's turmoil and instructed him to answer in a more commanding manner, befitting the dignity of his authority. Claudius accordingly said that he was not surprised the senate took no pleasure in being ruled, worn out as it was by the cruelty of those who had previously held power, but that they would find in him, by his own moderate conduct, a taste of better times; the name of rule alone would belong to him, while in practice it would be set forth for the common good of all. Having traveled through many and varied circumstances, he said it was well for them, in his presence, not to distrust him. And the envoys, charmed by hearing such words, were sent on their way.

Claudius then addressed the assembled army, taking oaths from them that they would surely remain faithful to him, and gave the bodyguards five thousand drachmas apiece, promising proportionate sums to their officers according to rank, and the same to the legions wherever stationed.

Meanwhile the consuls called the senate together in the temple of Jupiter the Victorious; it was still night. Of the senators, some who were hiding themselves in the city hesitated to attend the meeting, while others, who had gone out to their own estates, had already made their exit, foreseeing how the whole matter would turn out, now that hope of freedom had been abandoned, and judging it far better to live out their lives safely in idleness rather than in labor, than to gain the rank of their fathers only to remain in doubt about their own safety.

Even so, no more than a hundred assembled, and while they were deliberating about the matters at hand, a sudden shout rose up from the soldiery gathered together, bidding the senate choose an emperor as commander and not ruin the government through a multiplicity of rulers. And for their own part they declared that power should belong not to all, but to one man, and that it was for the senators to see who was worthy of so great a charge. So the senators were in great distress, chiefly through shame at their boast of freedom having come to nothing, but also through fear of Claudius.

There were, nonetheless, some who aspired to power, both by the distinction of their birth and by marriage connections. Minucianus, for instance, put forward Marcus, a man of note in his own right for his nobility, who had also married Julia, the sister of Gaius, and who was eager to lay claim to power; but the consuls held him back, contriving one pretext after another. Minucianus also restrained Valerius Asiaticus, one of the assassins of Gaius, from entertaining such designs. There would have been a slaughter no less than what had already occurred, had those who desired power been allowed free rein to set themselves against Claudius — all the more since the gladiators, of whom there was a considerable number, and those soldiers who kept night watch over the city, and as many oarsmen as were streaming into the camp, were involved, so that of those seeking power, some withdrew out of regard for the city, others out of fear for themselves.

At the very beginning of the day, Chaerea and those with him came forward and made an attempt at persuasion, addressing the soldiers. But when the crowd saw them silencing the men with gestures and refusing to allow them to say what they were capable of urging as to who should rule, they raised an uproar, since all were bent on having a monarchy, and called for the man who was to lead them, unwilling to tolerate delay. The senate, meanwhile, was at a loss both as to who should rule and in what manner it should be ruled, since the soldiers would not accept them, and the assassins of Gaius would not permit the soldiers to have their way.

In such circumstances, Chaerea, unable to contain his anger at the demand for an emperor, promised to give them a general, if someone would bring him a signal from Eutychus. This Eutychus was a charioteer of the faction called the Greens, greatly favored by Gaius, and much occupied about the stable buildings of that faction's horses.

The soldiery was worn out with these degrading duties. It was for this that Chaerea reproached them, along with much else of the sort, adding that he would fetch the head of Claudius himself: it would be monstrous if, after one madman, they handed the command to a fool. His words did not move them at all; instead they drew their swords, took up their standards, and went off to join those swearing allegiance to Claudius.

The senate was left without defenders, and the consuls were no better off than private citizens. Shock and despondency filled them, and no one knew what to do with the conspirators, since Claudius had been provoked against them. They turned to abusing one another, and regret set in. Sabinus, one of Gaius' assassins, came forward and threatened to kill himself before he would see Claudius established as ruler and slavery take hold; he rebuked Chaerea for clinging to life, if, having despised Gaius, he was now the first to judge life more valuable than a freedom that could no longer be restored to the fatherland in any case. Chaerea replied that he had no hesitation about dying, but wished first to test Claudius' intentions. So matters stood with them. Meanwhile, at the camp, crowds pressed in from every side to pay their respects.

One of the consuls, Quintus Pomponius, was under suspicion by the soldiers, since he was urging the senate on toward freedom; they drew their swords and would have acted against him had Claudius not intervened. Claudius seated the consul beside himself, rescuing him from danger, but the other senators who were with Quintus were not received with the same honor — some were even struck as they were pushed back from access to him. Aponius withdrew wounded, and all of them were in danger. King Agrippa then came forward to Claudius and asked him to deal more gently with the senators, for if any harm came to the senate, he would have no one else left to rule. Claudius yielded and summoned the senate to the Palatine, being carried there through the city escorted by the soldiery, with a great deal of rough handling of the crowd along the way.

Among the assassins of Gaius, Chaerea and Sabinus went out more openly, though they were barred from public appearances by the letters of Pollio, whom Claudius had shortly before chosen as commander of the bodyguard. When Claudius reached the Palatine, he gathered his companions and put Chaerea's case to a vote. To them the deed itself seemed splendid, but they charged the man who had done it with treachery, and thought it right to impose punishment on him as a deterrent for the future. So he was led away to execution, and with him Lupus and a good number of other Romans. It is said that Chaerea bore his misfortune with great composure, his bearing unshaken throughout, in contrast to Lupus, whom he taunted for breaking into tears.

When Lupus, laying aside his cloak, complained of the cold, Chaerea remarked that Lupus had never before shrunk from acting against the cold. As a crowd of onlookers followed to watch, when he reached the place he asked the soldier whether the killing blows had come to him with practice, or whether he now held a sword for the first time, and told him to bring the very blade with which he himself had dispatched Gaius. He died fortunate, killed with a single stroke. Lupus, however, did not manage his end so gracefully; he shrank back in distress, and it took several blows, since he offered his neck too weakly.

A few days later, when the Romans were holding their rites for the dead, the people brought their offerings to the fire and honored Chaerea's portion among them as well, praying that he be gracious and free of resentment for the ingratitude shown him. Such was the end of Chaerea's life. As for Sabinus, though Claudius released him not only from the charge but restored to him the office he had held, he considered it wrong to abandon his pledge to his fellow conspirators, and killed himself by falling on his sword until the hilt itself met the wound.

Claudius, having swiftly cleared away everything suspect in the army, published an edict confirming the kingdom Gaius had granted Agrippa, and praising the king with high commendation. He added to it the whole territory that had been ruled by Herod, Agrippa's grandfather — Judea and Samaria — restoring this as a debt owed to their kinship. He further added Abila, the territory of Lysanias, and all that lay on Mount Lebanon that had belonged to it, and a treaty was sworn between them in the middle of the forum in the city of Rome. He took from Antiochus the kingdom he held and gave him instead a portion of Cilicia along with Commagene. He also freed Alexander the alabarch, an old friend of his, and Antonia's steward, who had been bound in chains through Gaius' anger, and Alexander's son married Berenice, Agrippa's daughter.

As for that marriage, since Marcus, Alexander's son, died after having taken her as a virgin bride, Agrippa gave her to his own brother Herod, having asked Claudius that he be granted the kingdom of Chalcis. At about this same time, discord broke out between the Jews and the Greeks in the city of Alexandria. For after the death of Gaius, the Jewish nation, which under his rule had been humbled and grievously insulted by the Alexandrians, took heart again and was immediately in arms. Claudius wrote to the prefect governing Egypt to put down the uprising, and he also sent an edict, at the urging of the kings Agrippa and Herod, to both Alexandria and Syria, written in the following terms:

"Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, holder of tribunician power, declares: Having learned that the Jews in Alexandria, called Alexandrians, were settled together with the earliest inhabitants from the very first times of the city and obtained equal citizenship from the kings, as is clear from the documents in their possession and from the decrees, and that after Alexandria was brought under our rule by Augustus, their rights were preserved by the successive prefects sent out, and that no dispute over these rights had arisen — and further, that at the time when Aquila was in Alexandria, upon the death of the ethnarch of the Jews, Augustus did not prevent further ethnarchs from being appointed, wishing that each people remain subject while abiding by its own customs and not be compelled to transgress their ancestral religion — but that the Alexandrians grew emboldened against the Jews among them in the time of Gaius Caesar, on account of his great derangement and madness, because the Jewish nation refused to transgress its ancestral religion and address him as a god, and so he humbled them — I wish that none of the rights of the Jewish nation be forfeited on account of Gaius' madness, but that their former privileges be preserved for them so long as they abide by their own customs, and I charge both parties to take the greatest care that no disturbance arise after the publication of my edict."

Such, then, was the wording of the edict sent to Alexandria on behalf of the Jews. The one sent to the rest of the inhabited world read as follows: "Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, high priest, holder of tribunician power, chosen consul for the second time, declares: Since King Agrippa and King Herod, dearest to me, have asked that I grant the same rights to be preserved for the Jews throughout the whole empire under Roman rule as for those in Alexandria, I have most gladly agreed — not only as a favor to those who asked it of me, but because I judge those on whose behalf the request was made to be worthy of it, on account of their loyalty and friendship toward the Romans. I judge it especially just that no Greek city be denied these rights, since they were preserved for them even in the time of the deified Augustus. It is therefore right that the Jews throughout the whole world under our rule keep their ancestral customs without hindrance; and I now charge them in turn to make more moderate use of this kindness of mine, and not to hold in contempt the religious observances of other nations, but to keep their own laws. I wish this edict of mine to be published by the magistrates of the cities and colonies and municipalities in Italy and abroad, and by kings and rulers through their own envoys, and to be kept posted for no fewer than thirty days, in a place where it can easily be read from ground level."

By these edicts, sent to Alexandria and to the whole inhabited world, Claudius Caesar made known his mind concerning the Jews. He then at once sent Agrippa off to take possession of his kingdom, with even greater honors, writing to the governors and procurators of the provinces to treat him with affection. Agrippa, as one would expect of a man returning to a better fortune, hastened back, and coming to Jerusalem he offered thanksgiving sacrifices, omitting nothing that the law required. For this reason he also ordered a great many Nazirites to be shaved. The golden chain that Gaius had given him, equal in weight to the iron one with which his royal hands had been bound, he hung up within the sacred precincts above the treasury, as a memorial of his wretched fortune and a testimony to his change for the better — so that it might stand as proof both that great things can sometimes fall, and that God can raise up what has fallen.

For the dedication of the chain made this plain to all: that King Agrippa, from a small cause, had been stripped of his former dignity and become a prisoner, and shortly afterward, released from his fetters, had been raised to a kingship more splendid than before. From this, then, one should reflect that human greatness can slip and fall, and that what has been brought low can rise again to conspicuous heights.

Having thus fully paid his devotions to God, Agrippa removed Theophilus, son of Ananus, from the high priesthood, and bestowed that honor on Simon, son of Boethus, who bore the surname Cantheras. Simon had two brothers, and their father was Boethus, whose daughter King Herod had married, as has been shown above. So Simon held the priesthood along with his brothers and his father, just as before him the three sons of Simon, son of Onias, had held it together in the time of the Macedonian rule, as we have related in earlier books.

Having thus arranged matters concerning the high priests, the king repaid the people of Jerusalem for their goodwill toward him: he remitted the tax due on every house, thinking it fitting to return affection for the affection they had shown him. He appointed Silas commander of the whole army, a man who had shared many hardships with him. A very short time later, some young men of Dora, putting forward boldness in place of piety and naturally inclined to reckless daring, brought a statue of Caesar and set it up in the synagogue of the Jews. This greatly provoked Agrippa, for it amounted to an overthrow of his ancestral laws. Without delay he went to Publius Petronius, who was governor of Syria, and denounced the men of Dora. Petronius, no less angered at what had been done — for he too judged the transgression of the laws to be impiety — wrote in anger to the leading men of Dora who had committed the offense:

"Publius Petronius, legate of Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, declares to the chief men of Dora: Since some among you have shown such reckless folly that, even though the edict of Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus permitting the Jews to observe their ancestral customs had been published, you were not persuaded to obey it, but did the very opposite, preventing the Jews from holding their assembly by moving Caesar's statue into it — thereby transgressing not only against the Jews but against the emperor himself, whose statue would better be set up in his own temple than in another's, and especially in the place of the synagogue, since nature grants each people the right to govern its own place, in accordance with Caesar's decree (for it is absurd to invoke my own decree after the emperor's own edict, which permitted the Jews to keep their own customs and, further, to share citizenship with the Greeks) — as for those who dared such things against the Augustan edict, since even those of you who seem to hold the highest standing among you were themselves indignant, saying that it was not done by their own choice but by the impulse of the crowd, I have ordered them brought before me by the centurion Proculus Vitellius to give an account of what was done; and I urge the chief magistrates, if they do not wish this wrongdoing to appear to have been done by their own choice, to point out the guilty parties to the centurion, and to allow no occasion for sedition or conflict, which I suspect is exactly what is being sought through such acts — since neither I nor King Agrippa, whom I hold in the highest honor, care about anything more than that the Jewish nation, gathering under the pretext of self-defense, should not be driven by some such occasion into open desperation. And so that it may be better known what view Augustus himself took of this whole matter, I have attached his edicts published at Alexandria, which, even though they are thought to be known to all, King Agrippa, whom I hold in the highest honor, nevertheless read publicly from the tribunal, pleading that they ought not to be deprived of Augustus' gift. For the future, then, I charge you to seek no pretext for sedition or disturbance, but to let each people practice its own rites."

Thus Petronius took care that the wrong already done should be set right, and that nothing similar should happen to them again. King Agrippa removed Simon Cantheras from the high priesthood and restored it once more to Jonathan, son of Ananus, judging him more deserving of the honor. But it did not seem to Jonathan a welcome thing to receive so great an honor, and he declined it, saying: "I rejoice, O king, in the honor you have shown me, holding dear in my soul this favor which your goodwill grants me; but God has not judged me worthy of the high priesthood at all. Having once put on the sacred vestments, I am content; for I wore them then with greater holiness than I would recover now. But if you wish someone more worthy than myself to receive this honor now, let me instruct you:

my brother is pure of all sin, both toward God and toward you, O king; I recommend him as fitting for the honor." Pleased with these words, the king admired Jonathan for his judgment, and gave the priesthood to his brother Matthias. Not long after, Marsus succeeded Petronius and took charge of Syria. And the king's Silas...

Silas, the king's prefect, had remained loyal to him through every turn of fortune, refusing no danger and often undertaking the most hazardous labors on his behalf, and he was full of a confidence that he thought entitled him to equal standing on the strength of that steadfast friendship. He would therefore never defer to the king in any way, but spoke his mind freely on every occasion, and in his displays of familiarity he became tiresome, boasting of himself without measure and repeatedly bringing up before the king the grim turns of his former fortune, calling them to mind so as to point out his own zeal at the time, and constantly recounting, at length, how much he had toiled on the king's behalf.

The excess of these reminders came to seem an insult, and so the king came to resent the man's unchecked frankness of speech, for the memories of inglorious times are not pleasant, and it is foolish to keep bringing up favors one has done in the past. In the end Silas so thoroughly provoked the king's anger that Agrippa, giving way to rage more than to reason, not only removed him from his prefecture but had him bound and sent back, to be imprisoned, in his own homeland.

In time, however, the king's anger cooled, and turning the matter over with a clearer judgment, he took into account how many labors the man had endured on his behalf. So when he was celebrating his own birthday, a day on which all his subjects held festivities in general rejoicing, he summoned Silas at once to come and share his table. But Silas -- for his temper was that of a free man -- thought he had good cause for anger, and did not conceal it, saying to those who came for him:

"For what honor is the king recalling me, an honor that will vanish again in a moment? He did not even preserve for me the rewards I first earned for my goodwill toward him -- he stripped them from me with insult. Or does he suppose I have given up my frankness of speech? With what conscience could I keep silent, when I could cry aloud instead how many dangers I freed him from, how many labors I bore to secure his safety and his honor -- labors for which my reward was chains and a dark prison cell? I will never forget these things; perhaps even my soul, once it has left the flesh, will carry with it the memory of my valor."

This is what he shouted, and what he ordered be reported to the king. The king, seeing that he was incurably disposed in this way, again left him in confinement.

He fortified the walls of Jerusalem on the side facing the new part of the city at public expense, widening them in some places and raising them higher in others, and he would have carried this work to a scale beyond any human power to overcome, had not Marsus, the governor of Syria, informed Claudius Caesar by letter of what was being done. Claudius, suspecting some plan of revolution, sent orders to Agrippa to stop the building of the walls at once, and Agrippa judged it best not to disobey.

This king was by nature inclined to generosity in his gifts, ambitious to show magnanimity toward nations, and delighted to raise himself to prominence through lavish and repeated expenditures, taking pleasure in giving and rejoicing to live amid good report -- in temperament nothing like Herod, the king before him. For Herod's character was harsh, given to severe punishment and unrestrained toward those he hated, and it is acknowledged that he was more closely attached to the Greeks than to the Jews: he adorned the cities of foreigners with gifts of money, with the construction of baths and theaters, and in some he even raised temples, in others colonnades, but he never deemed any city of the Jews worthy even of the slightest repair, nor of any gift worth mentioning.

Agrippa's temperament, by contrast, was gentle, and his generosity was shown alike to all. Toward foreigners he was kindly and displayed his liberality to them as well, but toward his own people he was proportionately more benevolent and sympathetic. He took pleasure, at any rate, in residing continually in Jerusalem, and he kept the ancestral customs in strict purity, living his whole life in a state of ritual cleanness, letting no day pass without its lawful sacrifices being offered.

Now there was a certain man in Jerusalem, a native who was reputed to be a strict observer of the law -- his name was Simon -- who gathered a crowd into an assembly at a time when the king had gone away to Caesarea, and dared to denounce him, saying that he was not pure, and that he would justly be barred from entering the temple, since that right belonged to the native-born. This speech of Simon's before the populace was reported to the king by the commander of the city's garrison, in a letter.

The king summoned Simon, and since he happened to be sitting in the theater at the time, he ordered him to be seated beside him. "Tell me, gently and calmly," he said, "what is unlawful in the things that go on here?" Simon had nothing to say and begged to be forgiven. The king was reconciled to him more readily than anyone expected, judging mildness more befitting a king than anger, and knowing that in the great, forbearance is more fitting than rage. So he even honored Simon with a gift before sending him away.

Having built many things in many places, he honored the people of Beirut in particular, for he built them a theater surpassing many others in costliness and beauty, and an amphitheater built at great expense, and besides these, baths and colonnades, sparing no expense in any of these works and doing no injury either to their beauty or their scale. He was equally lavish in the magnificence of their dedication, presenting in the theater spectacles of every kind of musical performance and every form of varied entertainment for the pleasure of the crowd, and in the amphitheater displaying his own munificence through a multitude of gladiators. There, wishing to stage a mass combat for the pleasure of the spectators, he sent in seven hundred men to fight seven hundred others, assigning to this task all the criminals he had, so that they might be punished while, at the same time, the work of war became, in peacetime, a form of entertainment. These men he destroyed to the last one.

Having completed the events described at Beirut, he moved on to Tiberias, a city of Galilee. He had by now come to be regarded with admiration by the other kings. Antiochus, king of Commagene, came to visit him, as did Sampsigeramus, king of Emesa, and Cotys, who ruled Lesser Armenia, and Polemon, who held the kingdom of Pontus, and Herod, his own brother, who ruled Chalcis. He entertained them all, in his receptions and displays of friendliness, in a manner that showed the very height of good judgment, so much so that it seemed only just that he should be honored by the presence of the king. But while these men were still lingering with him, Marsus, the governor of Syria, arrived.

The king, observing due respect toward the Romans, went out seven stadia from the city to meet him. But this, as it turned out, was to be the beginning of his falling-out with Marsus, for as he sat beside him in his carriage he had brought the other kings along with him, and Marsus, seeing their unity and mutual friendship extending even this far, suspected it and judged it not in Rome's interest for so many rulers to be of one mind together. He therefore at once sent men to each of them privately, instructing them to depart to their own territories without delay.

Agrippa took this badly, and from that time his relations with Marsus were strained. He also removed Matthias from the high priesthood and appointed in his place Elionaeus, son of Cithaerus, as high priest.

The third year of his reign over the whole of Judea had now been completed, and he came to the city of Caesarea, which had formerly been called Strato's Tower. There he presented spectacles in honor of Caesar, understanding this to be a festival held for his welfare, and a great number of the province's officials and men risen to high rank had gathered for the occasion. On the second day of the spectacles he put on a robe woven entirely of silver, of such marvelous workmanship that it was a wonder to behold, and entered the theater at the break of day.

There, as the first rays of the sun struck it, the silver, catching the light, shone out in a way that was astonishing, gleaming with a brilliance that struck those who gazed at him with something like fear and dread. At once the flatterers, though it did him no good, cried out from this side and that, calling him a god and saying, "Be gracious to us; if until now we have feared you as a man, from this time on we confess you to be greater than mortal nature."

The king did not rebuke them for this, nor did he reject their impious flattery. But shortly afterward, looking up, he saw an owl perched above his head on a rope. He recognized at once that this was a messenger of evil, just as it had once been a messenger of good things, and a sharp pain seized his heart, and at the same moment a violent, sudden agony fastened on his bowels. Turning to his friends, he cried out:

"I, whom you call a god, am now ordered to end my life -- fate at once proving false the words you just now spoke falsely of me. I who was called immortal by you am even now being led away to die. But I must accept my destiny, as God has willed it, for we have lived our life in no mean fashion, but amid a splendor that has been called blessed."

Even as he spoke these words he was overcome by the intensifying pain, and he was carried in haste to the palace, and word spread among all the people that he was on the point of death altogether. At once the multitude, together with their wives and children, sat down on sackcloth, according to ancestral custom, and prayed to God on the king's behalf, and everything was full of wailing and lamentation. The king, lying in a lofty chamber and looking down at them falling prostrate below, could not himself hold back his own tears.

After five continuous days of being racked by the pain in his belly, he ended his life, being in the fifty-fourth year of his age and the seventh of his reign. He had reigned four years under Gaius Caesar, ruling the tetrarchy of Philip for three years and, in the fourth, receiving in addition that of Herod; and he had held it for three years more under the rule of Claudius Caesar, during which he reigned over the territories already named and also received in addition Judea, Samaria, and Caesarea. The revenue he drew from these came to as much as twelve million drachmas, and yet he borrowed heavily besides, for being so generous he spent more lavishly than his income allowed, since his love of honor knew no restraint.

While the news of his death was still unknown to the populace, Herod, ruler of Chalcis, and Helcias the prefect, a friend of the king, conspiring together, sent Aristo, one of their suitable attendants, and had Silas -- for he was their enemy -- put to death, as though by order of the king. Thus did King Agrippa end his life in this manner. He left behind him a son, Agrippa, seventeen years of age, and three daughters: of these, Berenice, aged sixteen, had already been married to Herod, her father's brother, while the other two, Mariamme and Drusilla, were still unmarried, the one being ten years old and Drusilla six. Their father had betrothed them in marriage: Mariamme to Julius Archelaus, son of Chelcias, and Drusilla to Epiphanes, son of Antiochus, king of Commagene.

But when it became known that Agrippa had departed this life, the people of Caesarea and Sebaste, forgetting his benefactions, behaved like the bitterest of enemies. They hurled unseemly abuse at the departed king, and those among them who happened at the time to be under arms -- and they were many -- went home, seized the statues of the king's daughters, carried them off together to the brothels, set them up on the rooftops, and abused them there in ways too indecent to describe, so far as it was possible. They also reclined in the public squares and held communal banquets, crowned with wreaths and anointed with myrrh, pouring libations to Charon and drinking toasts to one another over the king's death. They forgot not only Agrippa, who had shown them many acts of generosity, but also his grandfather Herod, who had built their cities for them and constructed harbors and temples at magnificent expense.

Meanwhile the son of the deceased, also named Agrippa, was at this time in Rome, being raised at the court of Claudius Caesar. When Caesar learned that Agrippa had died, and that the people of Sebaste and Caesarea had committed outrages against him, he grieved for the one and was angered at the ingratitude of the other. He was on the point of at once sending the younger Agrippa to succeed to the kingdom, wishing also to make good the oaths he had sworn, but the freedmen and friends who held the greatest influence with him dissuaded him, saying it was altogether risky to entrust so great a kingdom to one so young, who had not even outgrown the years of boyhood, since he would be unable to bear the burdens of administration, and that even for a grown man a kingdom is a heavy weight to carry. Caesar judged that they spoke reasonably, and so he sent Cuspius Fadus as prefect over Judea and the whole kingdom, thereby paying honor to the deceased by not bringing in Marsus, with whom Agrippa had been at odds, to rule over his kingdom.

He had also resolved, before anything else, to instruct Fadus to rebuke the people of Caesarea and Sebaste for their outrages against the dead king and their drunken abuse of those still living, and to transfer the cavalry regiment of the Caesareans and Sebastenes, together with the five cohorts, to Pontus, so that they might serve there, and to select soldiers from the Roman legions in Syria by number to fill their place. But those so ordered did not move, for by sending envoys they mollified Claudius and obtained leave to remain in Judea -- and it was these very men who, in the times that followed, became the source of the greatest calamities for the Jews, sowing the seeds of the war that would come under Florus, from which cause Vespasian, once he had prevailed, as we shall relate shortly, removed them from the province.

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