Nero executed his part of the plan in perfect cold-blood.  He made believe he had repented and was anxious for a reconciliation with his mother; he invited her to Baiae and so profusely lavished kindnesses and amiabilities upon her, that Agrippina finally believed in his sincerity.

After spending a few days at Baiae, Agrippina decided to return to Antium; in a very happy frame of mind and full of hopes that her son would soon show himself to the world the man she had dreamed, the descendant of Drusus, she boarded one evening the fatal ship; Nero had escorted her thither and pressed her to his heart with the most demonstrative tenderness.

A calm night diffused its starry shadows over the quiet sea, which with subdued murmur lulled in their sleep the great summer homes along the shore.  The ship departed, carrying toward her sombre destiny Agrippina, absorbed in her smiling dreams.  When the moment came and the wrecking machine was set to work, the vessel did not sink as fast as they had hoped:  it listed, overturning people and things.  Agrippina had time to understand the danger; with admirable presence of mind she jumped overboard and escaped by swimming, while, during the confusion on the boat, the hired murderers killed one of Agrippina’s freedwomen, mistaking her for Agrippina herself.  The ship finally sank; the murderers also took to the water; everything returned to its wonted calm; the starry night still diffused its silent shadows; the sea still cradled with subdued murmur the homes along the coast—­all men slept except one.

Within this one, Anxiety watched:  a son was awaiting the news that his mother was dead, and that he was free to celebrate a criminal marriage.  The escaped murderers soon brought the news so impatiently expected—­but Nero’s joy was short.  At dawn, a freedman of Agrippina arrived at the Emperor’s villa.  Agrippina, picked up by a boat, had succeeded in reaching one of her villas near by; she sent the freedman to tell the Emperor about the accident and to assure him of her safety.  Agrippina alive!  It was like a thunderbolt to Nero, and he lost his head:  he saw his mother hurrying on to Rome, denouncing the abominable attempt to Senate and people, rousing against him the Praetorian guard and the legions.  Thoroughly frightened, he summoned Seneca and Burrhus and laid before them the terrible situation.  It is easy to imagine the shock of the old preceptors.  How could he risk such a grave imprudence?  And yet there was no time to lose in reproaches.  Nero begged for advice:  Seneca and Burrhus were silent, but they, also frightened, asked of themselves what Agrippina would do.  Would she not provoke a colossal scandal, which would ruin everything?  An expedient, the same one, occurred to both of them:  but so sinister was the idea that they dared not speak it.  This time, however, both the philosopher and the general were deceived as well as Nero:  Agrippina had guessed the truth and given up the struggle.