Darkness and Dawn; Or, Scenes in the Days of Nero. An Historic Tale

by F. W. Farrar

  CHAPTER IX

  _NERO AND HIS COMPANIONS_

  ‘Res pertricosa est, Cotile, bellus homo.’--MARTIAL, iii. 63.

  Nero had been spending the morning with some of the new friends whoseevil example was rapidly destroying in his mind every germ of decencyor virtue. Though it was still but noon, he was dressed in a loose_synthesis_--a dress of light green, unconfined by any girdle, andhe had soft slippers on his feet. This negligence was due only tothe desire for selfish comfort, for in other respects he paid extremeattention to his personal appearance. His fair hair was curled andperfumed, and his hands were covered with splendid gems.

  But even a brief spell of imperial power, with late hours, longbanquets, deep gambling, and reckless dissipation, had already lefttheir brand upon his once attractive features. His cheeks had begunto lose the rose and glow of youth and to assume the pale and soddenappearance which in a few years obliterated the last traces of beautyand dignity from his ruined face.

  With him sat and lounged and yawned and gossiped and flattered achoice assemblage of spirits more wicked than himself.

  The room in which they were sitting was one of the most privateapartments of the Palace. It had been painted in the reign of Gaiuswith frescoes graceful and brilliant, but such as would now beregarded as proofs of an utterly depraved taste. As he glanced atthe works of art with which the chamber was decorated, Otho thought,not without complacency, of the day when the prediction made to himby an astrologer should be fulfilled, and he too would be Emperor ofRome. He highly approved of frescoes such as these, though even Ovidand Propertius had complained of their corrupting tendency.

  Otho was now nearly twenty-three years old, and was a characteristicproduct of imperial civilisation. His face was smooth, for he hadartificially prevented the growth of a beard. To hide his baldness,which he regarded as the most cruel wrong of the unjust gods, he worea wig, so natural and close-fitting as scarcely to be recognisable,and this was arranged in front in the fashion which he set, and whichNero followed. Four rows of symmetrical curls half hid the narrowforehead. Those curls had cost his barber two hours’ labour thatmorning, and they were dyed with a Batavian pomade into the blondecolour which was the most admired. In figure Otho was small; his legswere bowed, and his feet ill-shaped, but his large eyes and beautifulmouth gave him a sweet and engaging, though effeminate, expression.Indeed, effeminacy was his main characteristic, and there was a touchof effeminacy even in the much belauded suicide to which his destinywas leading him. When he was a boy, his father was so disgusted byhis ways that he flogged him like the lowest of his slaves. He wasone of those creatures of perfumed baths, delicate languor, softmanners, and disordered appetites, who, in that age, so often tookrefuge from a depraved life in a voluntary death.[12] He was entirelyimpecunious, and was loaded with debts--a circumstance which he didnot regard as any obstacle to a life of boundless extravagance. Inorder to get introduced to Nero he had the effrontery to make loveto a plain and elderly freedwoman, who had some influence at Court.When he had once secured an introduction he became the ardent friendof Nero, and the intimate accomplice of his worst dissipations. Beingsix years older than the Emperor, and far more accomplished in vice,he exercised a spell which rapidly undermined the grave lessonsof Burrus and Seneca. Precociously corrupt, serenely egotistical,cynical in dishonour, and gangrened to the depth of his soul bydebauchery, Otho, though still a youth, had so completely got rid ofthe moral sense as to present to the world a spectacle of unruffledself-content. A radiant and sympathetic softness reigned smiling onhis smooth and almost boyish face.

  By the side of Otho lounged another youth, whose name was TulliusSenecio. He was wealthy and reckless, and he had made himself aleader of fashion among the young Roman nobles. With them was thebrilliant Petronius Arbiter, a man of refined culture and naturalwit, but the most cynically shameless liver and talker even inRome. The group was completed by the able and rough-tongued butnot over-scrupulous Vestinus, the dissolute Quintianus, and thesingularly handsome Tigellinus, who was as yet only at the beginningof his career, but who, of all the minions of that foul Court, becamethe most cruel, the most treacherous, and the most corrupt.

  And yet weariness reigned supreme over these luxurious votaries offashion. They had at first tried to get some amusement out of theantics of Massa, a half-witted boy, and Asturco, a dwarf; but whenthey had teased Massa into sullenness, and Asturco into tears andbellowings of rage, Petronius interfered, and voted such amusementsboorish and in bad taste. Then they tried to kill time by bettingand gambling over games at marbles and draughts. The ‘pieces’(_latrunculi_ and _ocellata_) of glass, ivory, and silver layscattered over tables, just as they were when the players got tiredof the games, and the draught boards (_tabulæ latrunculariæ_) hadbeen carelessly tossed on the floor. Then they sent for plates ofhoney-apples, and bowls of Falernian wine, and took an extemporisedmeal. Nero even condescended to amuse himself with rolling littleivory chariots down a marble slab, and betting on their speed. Stillthey all felt that the hours were somewhat leaden-footed, till abright thought struck the Emperor. He had passed some of his earlyyears in poverty, and this circumstance, together with his æstheticappreciation of things beautiful, made him delight in showing histreasures to his intimates. By way of finding something to do,he suggested to his friends that they should come and look at thewardrobes of the former empresses, which were under the charge of amultitude of dressers, folders, and jewellers. Orders were given thateverything should be laid out for their inspection. Except Petronius,they all had an effeminate passion for jewellery, and they whiledaway an hour in inspecting the robes, stiff with gold brocade andbroideries of pearl, sapphire, and emerald.

  By this time Nero was in high good-humour, and seized the opportunityof a little ostentation towards the ‘lisping hawthorn-buds’ offashion by whom he was surrounded.

  He chose out a superb cameo, on which was carved a Venus Anadyomene,and gave it to Otho. ‘There,’ he said; ‘that will adorn the neck ofyour fair Poppæa. Vestinus, this opal was the one for the sake ofwhich Mark Antony procured the proscription of the senator Nonius.You don’t deserve it, for you can be very rude--’

  ‘Free speech is a compliment to strong emperors,’ said Vestinus,hardly concealing the irony of his tone.

  ‘Ah, well!’ continued Nero, ‘I shall not give it you for yourdeserts, but because it will look splendid on the ivory arm of yourStatilia. A more fitting present to you would be this little viperenclosed in amber;[13] the viper is your malice, the amber yourflattery. And what on earth am I to give you, Senecio? or you,Petronius? You are devoted to so many fair ladies, that I shouldhave to give you the whole wardrobe; but I will give you, Senecio,a silken fillet embroidered with pearls; and, Petronius, Nature hasset out this agate--I believe it is from the spoils of Pyrrhus--forno one but you, for she has marked on it an outline of Apollo and theMuses. Quintianus, this ring with Hylas on it will just suit you.’

  There was a hidden sarcasm in much which he had said even whilehe distributed his gifts, and not a few serpents hissed among theflowery speeches interchanged in this bad society. But they allthanked him effusively for presents so splendid.

  At this point a sudden thought suggested itself to Nero. He had notseen much of his mother for the last few days, and being in buoyantspirits, and thoroughly pleased with himself, he chose out the mostsplendid robe and ornaments, and bade some of the wardrobe-keepersto carry them to the apartments of the Augusta, with the messagethat they were a present from her son. ‘And do you,’ he said to hisfreedman Polycletus, ‘bring me back word of what the Empress says inthanks.’

  Nero and his friends returned to the room in which they had beensitting, and had begun to play at dice for large stakes, whenPolycletus came back, flushed and excited.

  Nero was himself a little uneasy at what he had done. His mother,with her unlimited resources, hardly needed a present of this kind.As long as she was Empress, all these robes had been her own; andNero was exercising an
unwonted sort of patronage when he sent thisgift by the hands of an attendant. There was a certain vulgarity inhis attention, which was all the worse because it was ostentatious.And yet, if Agrippina had been wise, she would have shown greatercommand over her temper, and have prevented that tragic widening ofthe ‘little rift within the lute’ which soon silenced the music of amother’s love.

  ‘Well, and was the Augusta pleased?’ asked Nero, looking up from hisdice.

  ‘I will report to the Emperor when he is alone,’ said the freedman.

  ‘Tush, man!’ answered Nero, nervously. ‘We are all friends here, andif my mother was very effusive in her compliments, they will pardonit.’

  ‘She returned no praises and no thanks.’

  ‘Ha! that was ungracious. Tell me exactly what she did.’

  ‘She asked me who were with you, and I mentioned the names of thosepresent.’

  ‘What business is it of hers?’ said Nero, reddening, as he noticedthe significant glances interchanged between Otho and Vestinus, thelatter of whom whispered a Greek proverb about boys tied to theirmother’s apron-strings.

  ‘She then asked whether you had given any other presents, and I saidthat you had. “To whom?” she asked.’

  ‘A regular cross-examination!’ whispered Vestinus.

  ‘I said that you had made presents to Otho, Vestinus, and others.’

  ‘You need not have been so very communicative, Polycletus,’ saidNero; ‘but go on.’

  ‘Her lip curled as I mentioned the names.’

  ‘We are not favourites of the Augusta, alas!’ lisped Otho.

  ‘But what did she say about the robe?’

  ‘She barely glanced at the robe and jewels, and when she had finishedquestioning me, she stamped her foot, tossed the dress over a seat,and scattered the gems over the floor.’

  Nero grew very red, and as the freedman again remained silent, heasked whether the Augusta had sent no message.

  Polycletus hesitated.

  ‘Go on, man!’ exclaimed Nero, impatiently. ‘In any case _you_ are notto blame for anything she said.’

  ‘I am ashamed to repeat the Augusta’s words,’ said the messenger.‘But, if I must tell you, she said: “My son gives a part to me, whohave given all to him. Whatever he has he owes to me. He sends methese, I suppose, that I may put in no claim to the rest. Let himkeep his finery. There are things that I value more highly.” And thenshe rose, and spurning with her foot the robe which lay in her way,she swept out of the room.’

  Nero bit his lip, and his eyes gleamed with rage. He was maddenedby the meaning smiles of Senecio, and the expression of cynicalamusement which passed over the face of Petronius.

  Otho came to the rescue. ‘Do not be disturbed, Nero,’ he said.‘Agrippina only forgot for the moment that you are now Emperor.’

  ‘The Augusta evidently thinks that you are still a boy in thepurple-bordered toga,’ sneered Tigellinus.

  Nero dashed down his dice-box, overturned the table at which theywere sitting, and began to pace the room in extreme agitation. He hadnot yet quite shaken off the familiarity of his mother’s dominance.He was genuinely afraid of her, and he knew to what fearful lengthsshe might be hurried by her passion and her hate.

  ‘I cannot stand it,’ he muttered to himself. ‘I am no match forAgrippina. Who knows but what she may prepare a mushroom, orsomething else, for me? I hate Rome. I hate the Empire. I will layaside the purple. I only want to enjoy myself. I will go to Rhodesand live there. I can sing, if I can do nothing else, and if allelse fails, I will support myself with singing in the streets ofAlexandria. The astrologers have promised me that I shall be kingin Jerusalem, or somewhere in the East. Here I am utterly wretched.’

  He flung himself angrily on a couch, and a red spot rose upon hischeeks. ‘I wonder how she dares to insult me thus! If I had sent therobe and jewels to Octavia, the poor child would have touched heavenwith her finger. If I had sent them to Acte, her soft eyes would havebeamed with love. Of what use is it to be Emperor, if my mother is toflout and domineer like this?’

  ‘Does not Cæsar know what gives her this audacity?’ asked Tigellinus,in a low tone.

  ‘No,’ answered Nero; ‘except it be that she has ruled me from achild.’

  ‘It is,’ said the adventurer, ‘because Pallas abets her, andbecause--’

  He paused.

  ‘Pallas? Who is Pallas?’ said the Emperor. ‘An ex-slave--nothingmore. I am not afraid of him. I will dismiss him at once, and if hegives the least trouble, I will threaten him with an inquisition intohis account. He shall go and end his Pallas-ship.[14] But what elsewere you going to say?’

  ‘Agrippina domineers,’ he whispered in the Emperor’s ear, ‘becauseBritannicus is alive.’

  ‘Britannicus?’ answered Nero.

  He said no more, but his brow became dark as night.