Difficult Women: Agrippina the Younger, part one
They say I did something bad/ Then why's it feel so good?
Agrippina (full name: Julia Agrippina Minor) was born on November 6, AD 15. We know this because people gave a shit cared about her, unlike many other people who lived in this place and time, because her parents were both significant people. Agrippina was the fourth surviving child and first daughter born to Vipsania Agrippina and Germanicus Caesar, making her a great-granddaughter of the wildly successful and famous former Emperor Augustus. We’ll look at each parent in turn because Agrippina’s genetics were a major part of how her life turned out.
Our Agrippina’s mother, Vipsania Agrippina (also known as Agrippina the Elder, but we’ll call her Vipsania here for clarity), was the daughter of Julia the Elder, the daughter of Emperor Augustus (last seen in this Substack being Cleopatra’s mortal enemy). Vipsania’s father, Marcus Agrippa, had been an important statesman and was the namesake for both her and her daughter because, in this era, women were frequently named the feminized version of their father’s names.
Vipsania’s family was incredibly murderous to one another, meaning that she was the only surviving member of her generation, and her children were the only descendants of Augustus. Vipsania’s husband, Germanicus, was the nephew of the current emperor, Tiberius, and his adopted son, because this family tree is just like a pile of sticks all thrown together in the most confusing manner possible. Also, note that Germanicus was also the grandson of Mark “mighty thighs” Anthony. These two were as close to royalty as the very anti-royal Roman Empire could get.
Names were fluid in ancient Roman times, and when a military person did something impressive, their name was often changed to match what they had done. Germanicus had, therefore, not been given that name at birth but had the name bestowed upon him in recognition of how he famously conquered parts of Germany for the Roman Empire. And it’s there that our story begins because Agrippina was born in Germany while her family were there for army-related reasons. When the family returned to Rome a few years later, they were greeted as returning heroes (a returning hero and his lovely family). And when Germanicus died a few years later, the whole place went wild with grief. Riots in the streets, pushing over statues, smashing pottery, people killing themselves so as not to live in a world without Germanicus. This cannot be overstated: the people of Rome REALLY loved Agrippina’s family.
The Emperor’s Grand-Niece
In her father's absence, Agrippina and her siblings were raised by her mother and two other very powerful women: her paternal grandmother, Antonia Minor and her great-grandmother, Livia Drusilla (who was an icon herself). In terms of ancient Roman woman role models, you couldn’t ask for anyone better. Vipsania, Antonia, and Livia had not only survived this notoriously murderous and misogynistic place, they had done their best to thrive while doing so. They were all ruthless, devoted to the continuation of their family line, and not opposed to the occasional murder. These three did all of this while technically abiding by the expectations for Roman women to be quiet, to stay out of the way, and never to be seen as acting too “manly.” They were each devoted wives and mothers who never tried to get any official power, which annoyed the men in charge; they did everything in the shadows, using influence, blackmail, and pillow talk to get what they wanted.
And honestly, these three women had a lot of room for scheming because the current emperor, Tiberius, was worse than useless. Everybody hated him because he was overly serious, overly pious, and tended to run away and hide out on distant islands rather than do Emperor-y stuff. Note: this is an entirely acceptable way to live one's life, but it is not ideal if you were the Roman Emperor at this point in time. Among his many enemies was Vipsania, who was convinced he’d been responsible for the death of his son/nephew, Germanicus. Was Germanicus murdered? I mean, who knows? He was a military man swinging a sword through the ancient world centuries before the discovery of antibiotics, so it’s as likely he died of tetanus or a paper cut as he was murdered. But also, the odds of being murdered in ancient Rome were really high, especially if you had anything to do with Vipsania.
Amid this inter-family chaos, 14-year-old Agrippina was married for dynastic reasons to Gnaeus Domitius Ahenobarbus, a man about twenty years older than her. (Fun fact: Ahenobarbus means “bronze beard, " meaning he was a ginger.) We’ll call him Domitius because that’s what most people called him back then. These two were related because everyone in this story is. Domitius’s mother was Octavia, Agrippina’s great-grand-aunt Octavia (aka the sister of Octavian, aka the previous wife of Mark “himbo” Anthony). Domitius was a high-ranking official and extremely rich, so in that sense, he was a suitable match for Agrippina. However, every source that wrote about him emphasized how his personality and actions were THE WORST.
How bad was Domitius? Well, for instance, one time, he was said to have killed a slave for the crime of being not drunk enough (as compared to the drunk-enough Domitius, apparently). Another time, he ripped out another dude’s eye for being rude to him. He also apparently fucked most women he ever laid eyes on, with or without their consent, let’s assume mostly without their permission. This guy was a nightmare of ancient Roman toxic male privilege/masculinity, meaning that our 14-year-old heroine had quite a challenge on her hands. But she’d lived through a pretty chaotic fourteen years so far and had the instincts of a survivor to get through this situation. She also had the mentorship of her mother and badass female relatives to learn how best not to be murdered by her awful husband.
The early part of Agrippina’s first marriage occurred as things heated up in the Vipsania vs Tiberius cold war. By the time Agrippina was sixteen, her mother and two older brothers had all been sent to exile and/or jail for scheming against Tiberius, where they all died by suicide and/or starvation. So now, Agrippina’s only living relatives were her brother, Gaius, and two younger sisters, Drusilla and Livilla. And she kept her head down and didn’t get murdered, which was probably enough to keep her busy until she was twenty-two years old and everything changed. Because Tiberius finally died, Agrippina’s brother Gaius was named the new Emperor! But you probably better know Gaius by his nickname, Little Boots, or as it’s said in Latin, Caligula.
The Emperor’s Sister
A note on Gaius “Caligula” Germanicus: Caligula was the oldest surviving son of Vipsania and Germanicus. His childhood had been as chaotic as that of his sisters. He’d spent some time in exile when Vipsania had been kicked out for scheming against Tiberius, then after her death, rejoined his three sisters to be raised by their grandmother. As the only male child of this particular family line, Caligula was unavoidably a threat to Emperor Tiberius, a man who’d become only more paranoid in his later years that someone would try to take over being Emperor from him. To neuter Caligula as a threat, Tiberius arranged it so that Caligula would be treated like a little boy even up into his late teen years.
Young Roman men got a sort of bar mitzvah moment at around age fifteen, where they got to start wearing a toga, at which point they were seen as official men. Caligula wasn’t permitted to wear a toga until he was nineteen. At that point, he was shipped off to live with Emperor Tiberius on an isolated island away from the Senate and all Roman politics. Knowing that Tiberius could kill him at any time, Caligula had to be friendly and not hate him, which went on for six years. He grew up being perpetually traumatized, was never taught how to be a functioning adult man, and had been kept isolated from making any alliances within Rome to help him out once he became Emperor. All of which to say: what happened during this upcoming reign wasn’t entirely his fault. He’d been, in many ways, set up to fail.
Back to Agrippina’s story.
As Caligula wasn’t married or had any children, he had to make everyone see him as a family man because, then, like now, it was politically important to seem “relatable.” Also, the more he could remind people that he was the son of their beloved Germanicus and Vipsania, the more positive feelings people would hopefully have toward him. With this in mind, he elevated his three sisters, Agrippina, Drusilla, and Livilla, to be honorary First Ladies of Rome, who always hung out with him in public. He also granted them the same rights as Vestal Virgins, meaning that they had more rights than any other Roman women, but without having to be virgins. These rights included that anyone touching them was punishable with death, they could have independent lives, and when they walked down the street, they had a sort of honour guard who cleared the way for them. No Roman women in history, including the wives and mothers of previous Emperors, had any of this amount of autonomy or power.
In addition, at the start of Senate sessions every day, the men made a pledge of allegiance during which everyone promised to respect and adore the Emperor. Caligula had this changed so that everyone had to promise to honour both him and his three sisters every time this pledge was said so Agrippina, Drusilla, and Livilla were present in name if not in body at the Senate hearings (women couldn’t attend Senate hearings, so that was about as close as they could get). Caligula also had coins minted with his face and name on one side and his sisters on the reverse side. This was the first time living Roman women had ever been put on coins, and it offers the first visual of Agrippina herself (a tiny image shared with her siblings, but still the first time we can truly see her as a person).
And then, as you might suspect, everything rather quickly went to shit. Several important things happened very close together near the end of Caligula’s first year as Emperor, and these things were:
Agrippina had her first child, a son named Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus. He was born in the breech position, and honestly, it’s incredible that she didn’t die during this delivery.
Caligula fell ill and retreated from public life for several months. In his absence, his rivals stepped up their anti-Caligula plans. This included starting rumours that Caligula was having sexual relationships with his sisters. Please bear in mind that in ancient Roman times, accusing someone else of incest was common. To clarify, incest itself was not common; accusing someone else of incest was common. This was a highly effective and popular way to defame someone you didn’t care for.
When Caligula re-emerged following his illness, he seemed perhaps changed psychologically and began ruthlessly murdering anyone he thought was conspiring against him to a random and erratic level.
Agrippina and Caligula’s sister Drusilla died. Caligula took this loss very personally and acted out in several concerning ways: he stopped shaving his beard, smashed pottery, had Drusilla declared a deity and created a cult to worship her, and at one point even ran away a la Tiberius to meditate on an island for a while.
And then, as if this isn’t all enough, Caligula had Agrippina exiled in the year 39 for allegedly conspiring with Livilla against him. Livilla’s husband, Lepidus, was executed for his alleged involvement in this same plot. (He was also accused of having had an affair with Agrippina.) Did these three people conspire against Caligula? I mean, maybe. And it would make sense if they did because the Emperor was not doing well and because Caligula had (amid all this chaos) fathered a son, which meant Agrippina’s son was one more step removed from becoming Emperor one day. As we will soon see, Agrippina’s entire life eventually resolved to ensure her son became Emperor one day (very Margaret Beaufort of her).
Agrippina, now aged 24, was sent to live in a luxury villa on the island of Pontia. For company, she had a household of slaves, a personal bodyguard, and the knowledge that, at any point, Caligula could change her sentence to death. So it’s not like being in jail, but it was probably not relaxing. But then!! After just one year of island living, Caligula was assassinated (by their uncle Claudius), and their uncle Claudius was named the new Roman emperor. As one of his first acts in the role, he released his niece Agrippina from exile and invited her to join him back in Rome.
The Emperor’s Niece
To catch us all up to speed because a lot has already happened, Agrippina was twenty-five years old when she returned to Rome to be reunited with her son, who was now four years old. Her awful husband, Domitius, had recently just died (probably not murdered), so she was now a widow/single mother. The new Emperor, her uncle Claudius, was fifty years old and unsuitable for the job. He’d barely held any political positions before, was not widely liked, perhaps had physical disabilities that made some people not respect him, and had a Tiberius-esque personality where he didn’t much like anybody. Early in his reign, Claudius had Livilla executed for the usual random reasons (scheming, adultery), leaving Agrippina as the only surviving child of Vipsania and Germanicus. Her son was again supplanted as presumptive heir with Claudius’s teenage bride, Messalina, who had a son named Britannicus.
The Roman people still loved Agrippina through all of this, largely due to their memories of how much they had loved her parents. Claudius, jealous and maybe a bit scared that this affection could turn against him somehow, had Agrippina married and shipped off to Asia to get her and her son out of the way as a threat to him. Her new husband was one of Claudius’s most trusted friends, who also happened to be Agrippina’s former brother-in-law (he’d been married to Domitius’s sister), Gaius Sallustius Crispus Passienus. We’ll call him Crispus for brevity. The whole thing seems very much like a thing where the Emperor does something nice for his friend, marrying him off to his wealthy niece. It wasn’t good news for Agrippina, though, as Crispus wasn’t at all on her same level, and marriage to him demoted her in importance. So you know she hated that.
And then a very tidy series of events occurred:
Crispus changed his will to make Agrippina his sole beneficiary
Agrippina and Crispus returned to Rome from Asia
Crispus mysteriously died, leaving Agrippina a wealthy widow
Paging Jessica Fletcher! We have a very obvious murder on our hands! This is what the people in Rome would have said if Murder She Wrote had been on TV at this time. As it wasn’t, they mainly spread rumours that Agrippina had very clearly just murdered her husband to inherit his estate. It’s entirely possible that Crispus died of natural causes or was murdered by someone other than his wife. But the end result is the same regardless of how he died: 28-year-old Agrippina was a double widow, super wealthy from her husband’s estate, and she peaced out to one of his private islands to, presumably, scheme ways for her son to become the next Emperor.
Five years passed without Agrippina’s name coming up in any documents, showing yet again how skilled she was at staying low on the radar. During these five years, though, Claudius began colonizing Britain (see my essay on Boudica for more on that scenario). (This is also why his son was named Britannicus). But just because Agrippina wasn’t around doesn’t mean there weren’t sexy scandals happening in Rome, because friends, it’s time to learn a bit more about Claudius’s teenage wife, Messalina.
A Note on Messalina: Valeria Messalina was Claudius’s third wife. She was probably about 18 when she married the 50-year-old Emperor and they were first cousins once removed, because goddamn everyone is related to everyone in this story. He married her due to her being a descendant of Augustus, which helped shore up Claudius’s weaker claim to the throne. Messalina, like Agrippina, seems to have been extremely devoted to doing everything she could to ensure her son became the next Emperor. She and Agrippina feuded a lot and seemed to be equal matches to each other in terms of ruthlessness and scheming. As with Caligula, a lot of enemies spread a lot of rumours about her (and a lot of the stuff we know now was written after she had died, when people like Agrippina were busy retroactively making Messalina seem terrible). What bafflingly does seem to be true, and not a rumour, is that one day, when Claudius was out of town, Messalina decided to marry her lover in a very public ceremony. When he found out, Claudius had her and eight men suspected of helping her out all put to death, which is frankly a reasonable reaction to such a public humiliation. He also had her name erased from all historical records and monuments as she’d never existed. The whole story is wild. Here’s more info.
And then, in need of a wife, Claudius married his niece, Agrippina, less than three months later. What happened next? If you’ve seen the 1976 BBC miniseries I, Claudius, you may already know that it all gets even MORE bananas.
Next time: Agrippina’s Niece/Wife/Empress era!
VULGAR HISTORY A LA CARTE is a feminist women’s history comedy newsletter. It is the companion publication to the Vulgar History podcast. Click here to hear the latest episode of the podcast.
Ann Foster is a a writer and podcaster. She’s currently writing a nonfiction biography of Caroline of Brunswick. Don’t know who that is? You will soon! She’s represented by Amy Bishop-Wycisk at Trellis Literary Management.
References
Agrippina: The Most Extraordinary Woman of the Roman World by Emma Southon
Poison: a history by Jenni Davis
Poison : an illustrated history by Joel Levy
A Woman of Great Power (BBC History Extra podcast)
Consort Introduction and Agrippina (Rex Factor podcast)
Episode XX – Agrippina the Younger (Emperors of Rome podcast)
I've seen I, Claudius and I've read the book, so I know what happens, but I'm still looking forward to Part 2.
So entertaining, Ann! I can’t wait to read the next part, not having seen I Claudius. 💕