Abstract: During the final Julio-Claudian reigns, many Romans took their own lives; some were forced by imperial decree, others by shame. This paper examines not only the circumstances behind many of the suicides in Tacitus’s Annals but also the attitudes Tacitus expected Romans to hold concerning them. How one meets suicide is of utmost importance. Tacitus overwhelmingly praises Seneca the Younger for the dignity and resolve with which he took his own life, while others, such as military tribune Faenius Rufus, are condemned for meeting their fate with grovelling and lamentations. Of special note are those instances when a Roman failed to commit suicide–does this show a lack of Roman virtue or is it simply not befitting that figure’s station? Finally, the willingness with which so many Romans killed themselves indicates the importance of adhering to social traditions. The alternative–being executed–was the lot of a soldier or a commoner, not an aristocrat. If a Roman was to die, it would be in a way that granted the citizen eternal fame. Tacitus establishes a clear-cut link between virtue and death in Roman society, granting us insight into how Roman behavior was closely intertwined with cultural expectations.
In his Annals, Tacitus rarely relates a natural death to the reader. The violent reigns of the
final Julio-Claudian emperors saw many Romans, both vile and virtuous, take their own lives.
Suicide figures so prominently in Tacitus’s account that the modern scholar may glean much
about its meaning in Imperial Roman society. Suicide showed resolve to the Roman eye,
especially when one’s actions have disgraced not only himself but the state. But this
interpretation is complicated by the many compulsory suicides forced upon prominent Romans
during the reigns of Nero and Claudius, leading to several questions. What does failure—or
success—in the deed mean for one’s legacy? Why did some even refuse suicide and accept
execution? The answers lie in an underlying pattern, where the method of suicide and death
could either exalt those Tacitus deems ‘good’ or condemn those he deems ‘bad’. By intertwining
the character of his subjects with how they meet their fate, Tacitus conveys suicide as a way to
recover from shame—a fate worse than death—for vile and virtuous Romans alike.
The character of a Roman was apparent in how they approached their fate; degenerate
Romans often dallied or failed in the task, whilst conservative Romans met their fate with
resolve. Failing to commit suicide conveyed a lack of moral integrity, and Tacitus reserves the
most graphic description of this for Messalina, the emperor Claudius’s third wife. Her wanton
and lusty behavior would “capriciously tamper with the Roman government,” as shown by her
ill-fated attempt at a palace coup against Claudius (Tacitus, Annals, 12.7). She represented the
worst excesses of Imperial women and, and Tacitus offers an account of her death that, in no
unclear terms, highlights her lack of Roman virtue. When the executioners came, Messalina’s
mother urged her “to seek death with honour” by committing suicide, but she fumbled so
cowardly with the blade that the impatient tribune overseeing the deed stabbed her (Tacitus,
Annals, 11.37-38). For this pathetic clinging to life, Messalina condemned her memory to
ignominy, a fate far worse than death for any Roman.
Messalina’s example stands in stark contrast to one of the figures Tacitus has the highest
praise for: Seneca, whose suicide occupies five chapters of Book Fifteen. Despite Seneca’s
refusal to join Gaius Piso’s plot, Nero demands his suicide. But the tribune sent to deliver the
sentence states that “he had recognized no signs of apprehension [from Seneca], and no distress
in his language or expression” (Tacitus, Annals, 15.61). The amount of time he takes before
committing suicide is not spent grovelling at the tribune’s feet or begging forgiveness for a crime
he did not commit; rather, Seneca “called for the tablets of his will”, showing attention to his
duties and obligations so that all would be well after his death (Tacitus, Annals, 15.62). Even his
suicide was hampered by an honorable and conservative way of living: “his spare diet, allowed
only slow escape for the blood” (Tacitus, Annals, 15.63). And, at the very end, Seneca
demonstrates Roman piety and a concern for the state’s future by offering his blood as “a libation
to Jupiter the Liberator;” a thinly veiled wish for Rome to be freed from Nero’s bloodlust
(Tacitus, Annals, 15.64). Tacitus’s lengthy account of Seneca’s suicide is the gold standard for a
proper Roman death; he exemplifies conservative Roman virtues and is mindful of his duty to his
family, state, and gods.
The resolution to commit suicide socially exonerated a Roman of their previous
misdeeds, restoring honor to names Tacitus otherwise records as marked by shame. Outside of
those that Nero forced upon innocent Romans, suicide functioned as an admission of guilt for the
disgraced to their fellow Romans. Poenius Postumus, a Roman officer stationed in Britain during
Boudicca’s uprising, did not join his Second Legion with the Fourteenth and Twentieth Legions
when they put down the revolt, perhaps fearing that the Britons were too strong to handle; in
doing so, Tacitus writes that “had cheated his own legion of…glory and violated military
procedure by disobeying his commander’s orders” (Tacitus, Annals, 14.37). Such a display of
cowardice was hardly befitting Rome’s military tradition, so Postumus killed himself to save
face. This admission of guilt should be seen as a positive one, indicating remorse for his fault; by
taking his own life, a degenerate Roman could display a strength of character that would improve
public opinion of him. This distinction also applied to those who chose to commit suicide
independent of any crime. Caninus Rebilus, a prominent Roman noted for his “effeminate
predilections,” committed suicide as he reached old age (Tacitus, Annals, 13.30). Tacitus writes
that this shocked many Romans, for they did not believe that a man thought lacking in masculine
virtue could muster the resolve to kill himself—those who scorned him for a lack of character in
life would find his death worthy of praise. Postumus and Rebilus’s suicides betray a Roman
cultural notion that suicide could expiate one of the shame incurred by his life’s misdeeds or
immoral practices.
Just as a shameful Roman could show resolve and regain honor through suicide, so could
an honorable Roman prove a disappointment through shameful actions when faced with death.
The violence that Nero resorted to upon uncovering Gaius Piso’s conspiracy caused many an
honorable—if unjust—deaths in the face of tyranny, like martyrs for the Roman state. But not all
met their fate with Seneca’s dignity and grace; rather, some committed suicide in ways that
tarnished their reputation. The worst example lies in Faenius Rufus, a military prefect in the
conspiracy whose “lifestyle and reputation won him general approval,” Tacitus initially records
(Tacitus, Annals, 15.50). But when faced with execution, Rufus’s virtue crumbles; despite the
good examples of his fellow centurions, who “did not disgrace themselves in facing execution,”
he “did not have the same resolve, and even entered lamentations in his will” (Tacitus, Annals,
15.68). Tacitus sees these lamentations as indecorous self-pity in the moment at which a Roman
should be most solemn and resolute. Even should a Roman display virtue in his life, he can still
ruin his image if he does not hold the strength when the stakes are highest.
One of the most intriguing questions left in the Annals is why Nero would choose suicide
as a means of dispatching his rivals—why not execute them outright? Although Nero displayed
little regard for Roman custom and tradition, even he knew that outright executing public
citizens was seen as barbaric and overly brutal. In fact, one of the most tragic of Nero’s murders
was that of Plautius Lateranus, who was one of the few conspirators not given the option for
suicide. Instead, “with such speed as not to allow him to embrace his children…he was rushed to
a location reserved for punishments of slaves and butchered at the hands of the tribune,”
(Tacitus, Annals, 15.60). For a consul designate, this was a shocking and pitiable end; compared
with the drawn-out suicide of Seneca in the very same chapter, Lateranus had no chance to set
his affairs in order and met a disgraceful end in the same way as slaves. Perhaps even Nero knew
that such a vile end would greatly inflame public opinion against him; he could not get away
with outright execution like he did for Agrippina, who was clandestinely murdered. If he were to
publicly kill the conspirators, it would have to be in a manner befitting their ranks. That is why
Nero ordered the military tribune Subrius Flavus and other military conspirators to be executed;
judging by the amount of detail given to the execution process described in passage 15.67,
Tacitus shows us that military men were customarily executed rather than forced into suicide—
understandably, since placing a sword in the hands of a capable man could not end well for the
executioners. This explains why their executions were not considered lamentable when
Lateranus’s was: the condemned were given opportunity for their death to adhere to Roman
social traditions, which made their deaths more honorable and palatable. Tacitus expressly
acknowledges this desire for “the posthumous fame of illustrious men: as in their funerals they
are kept apart from the common burial, so too in the historical record of their end let them be
granted, and let them retain, their own memorial” (Tacitus, Annals, 16.16). In highly stratified
Roman society, dominated by different customs and rituals between ranks, certain ends were
more befitting of an aristocrat than a commoner. This is why the majority of the condemned
accepted their fate without lashing out against the Emperor: Gaius Piso, despite being stirred by
many supporters to take to the streets and rally the soldiers and citizens to his cause, instead
resigned himself to his fate (Tacitus, Annals, 15.59). If he knew he were to meet the same
disgraceful fate as Lateranus, would he have remained passive? Likely not. Suicide was an
honorable method of death in Roman social tradition, which is why so many, preferring it to a
shameful end, killed themselves willingly.
Tacitus’s account of suicide in Roman society affords modern scholars a greater
understanding of how the practice was viewed by Imperial Roman society. From him we learn
that how a Roman lived their life was often intertwined with how they met their fate: typically,
vile Romans like Messalina reaffirmed their vices by failing to take their own lives, whereas
virtuous Romans like Seneca conducted themselves with the same strength of character at death
as they showed in life But Tacitus reminds us that suicide was still an option for disgraced
Romans, since shame was a powerful motivator for any Roman mindful of his legacy. Poenius
Postumus and Caninus Rebilus met their fate with as much resolve as Seneca, even though they
were considered disgraced by their actions and lifestyles; on the other hand, Faenius Rufus, an
otherwise honorable Roman, disgraced himself by showing self-pity. Their example showed that
suicide was a way to regain some honor in the eyes of their fellow Romans; had they not taken
their own lives, their legacy would be marked by shame. Finally, the very prominence of suicide
showed Romans’ acute awareness of their social status. Prominent Romans saw suicide as a
proper end befitting someone of their class and rank—if they knew they were going to die, they
much preferred suicide to being slain at the hand of the Emperor’s lackeys. Suicide at least
allowed them a chance to display virtue and resolution in the face of injustice and tyranny. By
examining the suicides of his historical subjects, Tacitus conveys his judgments of their character
to his Roman readers, proving the link between a Roman’s virtue and how he conducts himself at
death.
Works Cited
Tacitus. The Annals. Translated by J.C. Yardley, Oxford University Press, 2008, New York.