A CRIMINAL HISTORY OF MANKIND

But things were already drifting towards the point of no return. In Judea, the Roman prefect was
causing deep offence by trying to force the temple treasury to pay enormous tax arrears, and when
he allowed his men to plunder parts of Jerusalem, Jewish terrorists organised a revolt; the Roman
population of Jerusalem was massacred. The governor of Syria tried to recapture Jerusalem and
was driven back with heavy losses. Nero appointed a middle-aged general named Vespasian to
suppress the revolt. Then, in March 68, he heard that the governor of Gaul, Gaius Vindex, had also
rebelled, after issuing a proclamation denouncing Nero’s extravagances. He was supported by
Galba, the governor of Nearer Spain, and by Nero’s one-time friend Otho, governor of Portugal.
The neurotic emperor was thrown into a panic by the news, and it was obvious to his guards that he
was totally incapable of dealing with the situation - he left the dining-room one day with his arms
around the shoulders of two friends, explaining that he intended to go to Gaul, stand in front of the
rebel army and weep and weep until they felt sorry for him; then, he said, he would stroll among
his troops singing paeans of victory - which, come to think of it, he ought to be composing at this
very moment. What really seems to have cut him to the quick was a comment by Vindex that Nero
played the lyre very badly.
On 8 June a report arrived stating that an army in northern Italy had decided to join the rebels. For
Nero, this was the last straw; he decided to flee to Egypt. It was a scheme he had been considering
for some time - he had remarked that, if he lost the throne, he could always live by his art. He left
the Golden House and moved to his mansion in the Servilian gardens, en route for the port of Ostia,
where ships had been ordered to get ready. When he woke from a short sleep to find that the
Praetorian Guard was no longer on duty, he seems to have realised that this was the end. In fact, the
commander of the Praetorian Guard had decided to go over to Galba and had bribed the men with
an offer of 30,000 sesterces each (about £750) to proclaim Galba emperor. Nero hurried to the
houses of various friends but could get no reply. Returning to his house, he found that his
bodyguard had fled and had taken his bedclothes and his box of poison. Sounds of shouting and
cheering from a nearby army camp convinced him that the revolt was spreading. With only four
companions - including his ‘wife’ Sporus - he set out for the house of his freedman Phaon nearby.
There he crawled into a cellar, ordered his grave to be dug, and had hysterics, repeating over and
over again: ‘What a loss I shall be to the arts.’ A runner arrived with a message; it declared that the
senate had branded him a public enemy and decreed that he should be executed in the ‘ancient
style’ - which meant being flogged to death. He asked one of his companions to commit suicide
first, and then, when he showed reluctance, muttered: ‘How ugly and vulgar my life has become.’
When he heard the sound of approaching hooves, he placed the sword point to his throat; one of the
others also placed his hand on it, and pushed it in. He was already dying when a centurion entered
to arrest him; as the man tried to stanch the blood with his cloak, he murmured ‘How loyal you
are,’ and expired.
The lesson of Nero is very simple. He makes it possible to see that criminality is basically
childishness. He was not a particularly ‘evil’ man - he completely lacked the kind of misdirected
resentment that characterises most real criminals, from Alexander of Pherae to Carl Panzram. But
because he became Caesar before he had time to grow up, he was totally subjective, completely
self-absorbed. He saw other people as slightly unreal; to him, in fact, the whole world was slightly
unreal. So when he wanted something, he simply grabbed it. When someone stood in his way, he
‘removed’ him. Because of his childishness, this came as naturally to him as killing mice to a cat.