An Ancient Roman Treasure From Caligula’s “Pleasure Ship” Ended Up In A Woman’s Living Room

For decades, a priceless mosaic dating back to the time of Emperor Caligula was considered lost, vanished amid the chaos of World War II. And experts were shocked when it turned up in Helen Fioratti’s home, thousands of miles from where it had last been seen. The journey was certainly a remarkable one — and it’s made headlines around the world.

So what is the story of this mysterious mosaic, commissioned by one of the most tyrannical emperors ever to govern ancient Rome? The truth takes us back to the 1st century A.D., when Caligula ruled the empire with an iron fist. And it follows an unlikely path over the next 2,000 years, from Mussolini’s Italy to a book signing in modern-day New York.

The latest installment of this incredible tale began in 2013 when author Dario Del Bufalo attended a signing event for his book Porphyry, published the previous year. Considered an expert in ancient Roman stone and marble, the architect and restorer is certainly no stranger to history. In fact, he resides in a medieval castle that was once the Pope’s summer home.

On this occasion, though, Del Bufalo had traveled across the Atlantic to New York City, where he hoped to promote Porphyry. Telling the story of a distinctive type of igneous rock that graced the mosaics of ancient Rome, it’s something of a niche read. Nevertheless, a small crowd gathered to meet the author and watch him sign copies of his book.

It was there that Del Bufalo overheard the conversation that would change his life. Speaking to the CBS News segment 60 Minutes in November 2021, he recalls, “There was a lady with a young guy with a strange hat that came to the table, and he told her, ‘What a beautiful book! Oh, Helen, look, that’s your mosaic.’”

Although Del Bufalo was understandably intrigued, he dutifully finished signing the book in front of him before going after the mysterious pair. At first, he couldn’t find the woman, although he soon tracked down the young man. And when he approached him, he was told a tale almost too bizarre to believe.

Seeking to clarify the situation, Del Bufalo pointed to a picture of a particular artwork and asked the man to repeat what he had said. Happily, he confirmed, “Yes. This is the mosaic that Helen has in her house on Park Avenue.” The piece in question, though, had been missing since World War II.

“I was screaming at him, ‘But this mosaic is lost!’” Del Bufalo recalled. “And he said, ‘I don’t know. The woman has it since a long time. And she serves tea and coffee [on it] in her house.’” In other words, she had been using a potentially priceless artifact as a casual piece of furniture for many years.

The woman, it emerged, was Helen Fioratti, an art dealer based in New York City. According to her, she had acquired the mosaic back in the 1960s — but not as the result of some shady, underhand deal. Instead, she had purchased it in good faith from a family of Italian aristocrats.

Speaking to The New York Times in 2017 Fioratti explained that, in her mind at least, the sale had been above board. In fact, she claimed, it had even been arranged by a member of the Italian police. Although the man has not been named, he is believed to have worked closely with artworks stolen by the Germans during World War II.

At the moment, it’s unclear whether or not Fioratti knew the provenance of the beautiful mosaic that spent decades inside her New York City home. Del Bufalo, though, was all too aware of the truth: it dated from the reign of Caligula, emperor of Rome between the years 37 and 41 A.D.

Born Gaius Julius Caesar in the coastal settlement of Antium in 12 A.D., Caligula acquired his nickname, which means little boot, as a young boy. But if contemporary reports are to be believed, there was nothing innocent or affectionate about his time as emperor. In fact, not long after he came to power, he developed a reputation as a cruel tyrant.

At first, historians believe, Caligula was beloved by his people, doling out bonuses and hosting grand gladiatorial events. But after a brief sickness during the first year of his reign, his personality apparently changed. Not long after recovering, the emperor ordered the execution of his cousin — the first strike in a short and bloody career. 

If the rumors are to be believed, Caligula transformed into the emperor from hell, a sadist who enjoyed doling out violent punishments, even where family members were concerned. On one occasion, it’s said, he even had his favorite singer put to death, just so that he could enjoy the sound of his screaming.

These reports, though, should be taken with a pinch of salt. After all, most of the contemporary sources are of dubious origin, and historically it has been common practice to smear incompetent rulers with tales of brutality and scandal. So while Caligula might have been a monster, he may simply have just been bad at his job.

Certainly, we know that Caligula was irresponsible with money, blowing through a small fortune in gold and plunging Rome into a financial crisis. But even as his people struggled, the emperor continued to splash out on ostentatious shows of wealth. Take, for example, the two great ships that he had built on Lake Nemi, some 20 miles outside Rome. 

Although experts remain divided on what exactly these vessels were for, the larger of the two ships at least was incredibly luxurious in design. Described at the time as gleaming with jewels, it was equipped with luxuries such as baths, fountains, and marble surfaces. Today, most believe that it served as a pleasure barge for the emperor and his indulgent court.

What’s most relevant to this story, though, is the fact that this vast ship was also equipped with an array of beautiful mosaics. Featuring intricate designs in deep colors such as red and green, some believe that they once formed part of an elaborate floating dance floor on board the stationary vessel. 

Fast forward a few thousand years, and a piece of mosaic from Caligula’s pleasure ships somehow wound up as a coffee table in Fioratti’s home. But how on earth did it get there? How did the art dealer react to Del Bufalo’s realization — and what happened next in this bizarre tale?

Back in ancient Rome, even Caligula’s own men eventually tired of his antics. And in 41 A.D. he was assassinated, bringing an end to the long reign of the Julii Caesares family. But he wasn’t just removed from power. After his death, his very image was erased from the city, his statues defaced and any coins bearing his face destroyed.

As part of this campaign, historians believe, Caligula’s former subjects sank the two ships on Lake Nemi — jewels, mosaics, and all. And for almost 2,000 years, they remained beneath the surface. Over time, though, rumors began to circulate concerning the ancient Roman shipwrecks at the bottom of the lake.

According to reports, some fishermen would even retrieve the odd artifact from the ships, selling them to tourists in return for a quick buck. Then, in the 15th century, two men decided to investigate the rumors. At around 60 feet down, they discovered the wrecks of Caligula’s two great ships.

At the time, though, the technology didn’t exist to retrieve wreckage from such a depth. Almost 100 years later, one man succeeded in reaching the wreck with a diving helmet — the first person to view the ships in centuries. Bringing objects such as mosaics and bronzes back to the surface, he was able to piece together an image of how Caligula’s pleasure barge might have looked.

Strangely, though, it would be another 300 years before academics took a serious interest in the ships. After one aborted mission to raise the wrecks, Italy’s Ministry of Education launched its own investigation in 1895. But after the recovery of several artifacts, the Department of Antiquity and Fine Art moved in to protect the delicate remains.

Eventually, in 1928 the lake was drained on the orders of Benito Mussoilini. Over the course of several months, the water level slowly dropped, revealing the historic ships in all their glory. Eventually, a museum was constructed over the two wrecks — but their time in the spotlight was sadly short-lived.

Less than four years after the vessels first went on display, Germany invaded Poland, kickstarting the brutality of World War II. And in aligning itself with the Axis powers, Italy placed itself in the crosshairs of the United States Army. On May 31, 1944, a fleet of bombers attacked the region, with some shells landing on the museum. 

At first, reports claim, there was little visible damage to the building and its valuable contents. But within a few hours, smoke began to pour out of the museum. Had the Allies unintentionally destroyed a priceless part of history? Or had the retreating forces set the fire out of spite? 

Whatever the truth, the fire spread — and the two wrecks were sadly destroyed. Today, only a few scattered relics remain. Confusingly, though, Fioratti’s mosaic shows no signs of having survived a devastating fire. As such, experts believe that it was not on display the day that the museum caught ablaze. 

Perhaps, it has been speculated, the mosaic was taken out of the museum’s display before the bombing started? Or, alternatively, it might have been in a private collection the entire time. Either way, it apparently spent two decades being passed through unknown hands until Fioratti acquired it in the 1960s.

Shipping the mosaic back to their home in New York City, Fioratti and her husband had a frame and pedestal attached to the ancient artifact. And for the next five decades, they kept it in their home, where it became a favorite possession. Speaking to the Associated Press in 2017, the art dealer explained how her “innocent purchase” had drawn several admiring glances over the years.

“We were very happy with it,” Fioratti said. “We loved it. We had it for years and years, and people always complimented us on it.” Unfortunately, she was unable to recall exactly how much her husband, journalist Nereo Fioratti, had paid for the mosaic. Although, for a genuine piece of Roman history, it was likely a bargain price. 

Meanwhile, experts had given up the mosaic for lost. Thanks to a photograph taken in the 1960s in Italy, The New York Times reported, they knew that it had survived the bombings intact. But after that, the trail went cold. Certainly, it was the last thing that Del Bufalo expected to uncover on his book tour. 

Nevertheless, Del Bufalo felt compelled to inform the authorities about the mosaic that was being stored in Fioratti’s living room. And when they arrived to investigate, she was unable to produce any paperwork to prove that she was the legal owner of the piece. As a result, her beloved coffee table was seized as stolen property.

According to The New York Times, prosecutors suspected that the mosaic had been stolen from the Nemi museum at some point before the disastrous bombing. In a statement, Cyrus R. Vance Jr., New York’s district attorney at the time, explained, “These items may be beautiful, storied, and immensely valuable to collectors, but willfully disregarding the provenance of an item is effectively offering tactic approval of a harmful practice that is, fundamentally, criminal.”  

For her part, Fioratti has decided not to fight the decision. In an interview with The New York Times, she admitted that she did not have the time nor the energy to argue her case in court. And even though she insisted that the mosaic had been legally acquired, the piece was duly shipped back to its native Italy.

“I felt very sorry for [Fioratti], but I couldn’t do anything different, knowing that my museum in Nemi is missing the best part that went through the centuries, through the war, through a fire, and then through an Italian art dealer, and finally could go back to the museum,” Del Bufalo says. “That’s the only thing I felt I should have done.”

Despite this sense of duty, though, Del Bufalo clearly feels guilty about depriving Fioratti of the mosaic. And by way of compensation, he has offered to gift her a detailed replica to stand in its place. Speaking to 60 Minutes, he says, “I really would do a copy for her. Exact copy. She could not tell the difference.”

Meanwhile, the mosaic has taken up residence in its new home, the Museum of Roman Ships near Leonardo da Vinci Airport in Rome. Alongside the remains of a port built by Caligula’s successor, Emperor Claudius, these relics offer a fascinating insight into life during the days of the Roman Empire. 

“The mosaic testifies how important and luxurious these imperial ships were,” Alberto Bertucci, the mayor of Nemi, told the Associated Press in 2021. “These [boats] were like buildings: They were not supposed to sail, and they confirm the greatness of this emperor who wanted to show the greatness of his rule of the Roman Empire through these ships.”