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

by F. W. Farrar

  CHAPTER XXXV

  _THE MATRICIDE_

  ‘It was not in the battle, No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak, She ran upon no rock’----

  COWPER.

  ‘Hæc monstra Neroni Nec jussæ quondam præstiteratis aquæ.’

  MART. iv. 63.

  Baiæ in the springtide of A.D. 59 must have been as lovely a placeas the world can show. Its blue sky, its soft air, its sparkling sea,its delightful shore, its dry hard yellow sands and rocks gleamingin the clear water, its green and wooded heights, combined withits healing waters and splendid buildings to make it a fairyland ofbeauty and enjoyment. Marius, Pompey, Cæsar, had built villas there,and the whole line of coast to Puteoli had gradually become crowdedwith the gay houses of the Roman aristocracy. Temples, and baths,and theatres, and palaces rose on every side, among groves enrichedwith grottoes and blooming like a garden of enchantment with fruitsand flowers. Passing the promontory of Misenum, the traveller firstarrived at the bright town of Baiæ itself, and then at the morequiet and exclusive Bauli, until he reached the lakes of Lucrine andAvernus, of which the former had been joined to the sea by a canal,and protected by the magnificent causeway of Agrippina’s grandfatherAgrippa. Beyond these was Puteoli, with the stately and pillared faneof Serapis, the ruins of which still attest its former magnificence.

  The festive splendour of the lovely and dissolute resort washeightened by the universal holiday of the Quinquatrus, or Feastof Minerva. It was kept almost like our Christmastide. All theboys had five days’ holiday, beginning on March 19, and were athome from their various schools, adding fresh mirth to the joyouswatering-place. There were exhibitions of wild beasts, and plays,and poetic and oratorical contests; and on the fifth day of thefestival, which was called the Tubilustrium, all the trumpets wereblown, and the sacred implements of the temples lustrated.

  By this time Nero had accustomed himself to the thought of gettingrid of his mother by treacherous violence. His five years of empirehad inspired him with audacity and confidence. His passion for Poppæaburned with ever fiercer flame. His hatred for Agrippina, as themain obstacle in the path of his desires, grew daily more sullen;and Poppæa had aroused his fears by persuading him that his motherwas plotting against his life. Since poison had failed, and heshrank from using the dagger, he had determined to follow the deadlysuggestion of Tigellinus, and to make it appear that the Augusta hadperished in an accident at sea.

  To prepare the way for his purpose, he began to express hisdetermination to be reconciled with his mother. ‘The anger ofparents,’ he said, ‘must be cheerfully borne. It is my duty as ason to soothe my mother’s irritation. I long to be on good termswith her once more.’ Again and again he repeated these sentimentsto various persons, and he took care that they should reach the earsof his mother. Octavia herself, grateful for the efforts of Agrippinaon her behalf, told the Augusta that Nero’s feelings seemed tobe undergoing a change, and that perhaps he would restore toher, spontaneously, her former honours. The hope kindled by thisintelligence fell on the last days of the Empress-mother like a rayof cruel sunshine out of the thunder-clouds which had so long beengathering around her. It was natural that in her misery she should becredulous of good tidings, and perhaps her heart was softened to herson by the fact that she was now living in the villa at Antium whereshe had given him birth, and in which nearly every room recalled thememories of his childish brightness, and the winning trustfulnessof a heart as yet unstained, of a beauty as yet unshadowed by evilsecrets and base desires. The villa was full of splendour. The ApolloBelvedere and the Fighting Gladiator were but two of the many statueswhich adorned it. But what was art, what was splendour to a minddiseased? She found more happiness in the tame birds which wouldsettle on her finger, and the yellow brown-marbled lampreys whichcame to feed out of her hand.

  On March 18, the day before the Feast of Minerva began, her heartthrobbed with pleasure to receive a delightful letter from herson. Couched in the most loving terms, it conveyed to her a genialinvitation to come to him at Baiæ, and there to spend, in duemirth and feast, the first day of the festival. ‘Fancy that I am aschoolboy once more,’ wrote Nero, ‘and that you, my loving mother,are welcoming me home for my holidays.’ How could Agrippina helpindulging the hope that better days had at last begun to dawn? Thenext morning, gladder than she had ever been since her husband’smurder, she made her way through the grounds of her villa to thelittle haven where was moored the Liburnian galley which she usedfor excursions along the shore.

  Agrippina thought that Nature had never looked lovelier as she glidedover the flashing waves, and her stalwart rowers in gay liveries,

  ‘Bending to their oars with splash and strain, Made white with foam the green and purple sea.’

  They had hardly rounded Cape Misenum when they met the imperial yachtin which Nero had sailed to meet her. He came on board her galley,warmly embraced her, and accompanied her to the landing-stage of hervilla at Bauli, where he bade her farewell, saying that they wouldmeet again in the evening. ‘And look, mother,’ he said, ‘I haveprovided that you shall be conducted to Baiæ with proper splendour.’

  He pointed to a yacht anchored under the trees of her villa, mannedwith the imperial marines, and superb with fluttering pennons anddecorations of gilding and vermilion. It was more splendid thanany to which she had been accustomed in the days when, as the soleAugusta and as all-powerful with Claudius, she wielded the resourcesof the Empire. This yacht, he told her, was to be rowed in frontof her Liburnian, and to announce her arrival. There it lay, makinga lovely show, and casting its bright broken reflection on thedancing sunlit waters. She was delighted, for she loved magnificence,both for its own sake and for the impression which it makes on themultitude; and she took this as an omen that Nero would restoreto her the body-guard of Germans and the escort of Prætorians thewithdrawal of which had cut her most deeply to the heart.

  As Agrippina rested after her voyage, she prepared to array herselfin her richest and most jewelled robes. She was full of brightanticipations, and thought that now the tortures of the last fiveyears were at an end. The whole world had turned for her to thorns;would some new rose-bud now unfold itself among them? Hardly! It wasthe custom of ladies on the first day of the Quinquatrus to consultastrologers and fortune-tellers, and the answers of those whomAgrippina consulted that day were far from encouraging. And adisagreeable incident occurred during the morning. While she wasbeing dressed, the message was brought her that, in the concourse ofvessels which had attended the Emperor, one of them had accidentallycrashed into her own galley, and so broken its sides that it wastemporarily unfit for service; happily, however, she could now sailon board the bright vessel which had been sent to wait upon her.

  Little did the unhappy woman know that all this had been pre-arranged,and that the chief reason why Nero had sailed to meet her was inorder to make the disabling of her galley wear the aspect of acolourable accident!

  But she felt an unaccountable unwillingness to go on board theuntried vessel. She had heard mysterious hints of danger, tooimpalpable to be understood, but sufficient to awaken a dimsuspicion. Her astrologer, whom she again consulted, vaguelyindicated that a storm might arise, and it might be as well forher to go to Baiæ by the road. These faint surmises were emphasisedby the arbitrary foreboding of her own heart, which every now andthen seemed to pause in its beating, and to chill her happiness withthe suspense of the unknown. In vain she tried to dispel these vaguespiritual fears. At the last moment she ordered her litter to beprepared, and, making some excuse about the better protection of herrobes, had herself conveyed to Baiæ by land.

  She was received with open arms from the moment that, with queenlystep, she descended from her litter. The guests, and the many slaves,all in their finest array, were grouped around the entrance, andbroke into a respectful murmur of greeting and applause as the gleamof the westering sun flashed on
the diamonds, emeralds, and sapphireswhich encircled her neck and arms and thickly encrusted the broideryof her inner robe. The assembled nobles and courtiers bowed low, theattendants almost prostrated themselves as she advanced towards herson. He seemed to be in his brightest mood of hilarity and affection.He welcomed her with playful sentences and attractive tenderness. Hehimself conducted her to the banquet, which, to add to its delight,was spread in a room where the couches were so arranged that eachguest could have a full view on one side of that ‘golden shore ofhappy Venus,’ proud with the gifts of nature and of art; and, onthe other side, of the river with its painted shallops and merryholiday-makers. No refinement of luxury or beauty was lacking to thebanquet. Nero assured her--but she knew that no one could believea word he said--he had himself caught the fish by a line from thewindow beneath which the sea-waves flowed. Then there were plates ofmelimela, sweet as honeycombs, glowing rosily from their baskets ofsilver filagree, and olives from Picenum, and cinnamon from the shopof Niceros in Rome, which was so choice that, as he solemnly assuredhis wealthy purchasers, it could only be procured from the nest ofthe Phœnix.

  Nero insisted that Agrippina should occupy the seat of honour at thetable above himself. When she gently remonstrated, he said, ‘To whomis the precedence due but to the mother who gave me both my life andmy Empire?’ Never had he seemed to her to shine with more princelycharm than at that entertainment! He exerted himself to display allhis geniality and all his accomplishments. He bade her look at thesea, and quoted some lines of young Martial to her:

  ‘The wavelets wake from their purple sleep, The soft breeze ruffles the dimpling deep, Gently the painted shallops glide, Borne by the breeze o’er the rippling tide.’

  Sometimes he entered with grave dignity upon questions of State,which he respectfully submitted to her maturer judgment; at othertimes, dropping the tone of confidential inquiry, he plunged intoalmost boyish gaiety, and interchanged witticisms with the youngernobles to beguile her into laughter. His conduct was a consummatepiece of acting, which would not have disgraced Paris or Aliturus,and Agrippina fell into the snare. At first the shadowy forebodingflitted every now and then across her soul, but now she dismissed it.Surely all those blandishments were sincere! After all, was not shehis mother? was not he her son? What was more natural than such areconciliation between two who were so dear to each other? The hourssped by almost unnoticed, and the exhilaration of the rich wine ofwhich, on an occasion so joyful, she freely partook, added to thehope and bliss which for four weary summers had been strangers toher heart.

  But at last it was time to leave, for the banquet and its amusementshad prolonged themselves far into the evening. Even Nero, frivolous,corrupt, abandoned as he was, felt the awful solemnity of the momentwhen he would for the last time behold in life the mother to whom heowed so immense a debt. He strained her again and again to his heart;he gazed long and earnestly into the eyes which were so soon to beclosed forever; he covered her hands and her cheeks and even her eyeswith his passionate kisses. Almost he wished that the terrible deedhad never been contemplated, that the sham reconciliation had indeedbeen real. ‘Farewell, dear mother,’ he said, almost with a sob, whichcame easily to a nature so superficially emotional. ‘Take care ofyour health for my sake.’ And then, handing her to the charge ofAnicetus, he turned hastily away.

  With deep obeisances, but with a smile in his evil eye, the admiral,who had once been a slave, conducted her on board the fatal ship,along the planks which had been covered with purple for her proudfootsteps. He led her to the stern, where a canopy of purple silk,fringed with golden broiderings, overshadowed the sumptuous couch onwhich she was now glad to rest. There were but two attendants withher, her lady-in-waiting, Acerronia Polla, and Crepereius Gallus.Little did those three dream that it was to be their last night onearth!

  The night was as enchanting as only a night of the spring on theshores of Italy can be. Overhead, in the deep blue vault, numberlessstars seemed to hang like golden cressets, raining their large lustreover that unequalled scene. Beneath the rhythmic strokes of therowers the sea flashed into brighter phosphorescence in the shadowof the boat, and the waves rolled away in molten gold. From thenear coast, as they steered northwards, the air seemed to come ladenwith the perfume of flowers from the gardens and blossoming trees.Countless spectators watched the gilded barque, and their torchesglimmered along the crowded sands, and the music of their gay songsand serenades came to the happy voyagers. The balm and peacefulnessand beauty of the night seemed to set its seal on the reunion ofhearts too long divided, and for that hour of blessedness it almostseemed worth while to have lived.

  Acerronia, bending over the feet of the Empress as she reclined onthe couch, was congratulating her with all her heart on the warmthwith which she had been received, and was indulging in a hundredflattering auguries of the future. Surely Agrippina would now berestored to her full honours as Augusta! Once more she would haveher home in the Palace of the Cæsars, and ride in a carriage to thecapital, and be surrounded by her tall and glittering body-guard!‘He kissed your _eyes_, Augusta,’ said Acerronia, ‘as though he wouldembrace your very soul.’[72] To Agrippina also at that moment

  ‘Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair.’

  Crepereius stood near them, only joining in the conversation by anoccasional word of congratulation, but enjoying with the two ladiesthe happy events of the day and the splendour of the balmy night.

  Suddenly a whistle was heard from near the prow, where Anicetus wasstanding. The whistle was followed by a frightful crash. The gaycanopy over the Empress had been weighted with lead, and so contrivedthat by the pulling of a rope it could be freed from its supports.Down it rushed upon the heads of the unsuspecting victims. Crepereius,who was standing up, was instantly crushed to death; but not so thetwo ladies. They were protected by the side of the boat and of thecouch on which the Empress was resting. Half stunned by the terribleaccident, they had scarcely realised what had occurred before theysaw the galley in a state of indescribable confusion. Only a fewof the sailors shared the hideous secret with Anicetus; and as themachinery had failed to act--for the loosing of the canopy ought tohave been accompanied by the dissolution of the vessel--they rushedto the larboard in order to upset the boat by their weight. Those whohad not been warned of the intended murder rushed to the starboard toprevent an accident. Fierce cries and discordant commands sounded onevery side. Half wild with selfish terror, Acerronia struggled fromthe débris of the canopy and screamed out, ‘I am the Empress; helpthe mother of the Cæsar.’ A shower of fierce blows, dealt on herhead with oars and boat-hooks, was the answer to her cry and thepunishment of her faithlessness. In a moment she too lay outstretchedin death. Agrippina was sobered by peril from the fumes of theFalernian of which she had plentifully partaken, and was enabled,by her familiarity with guilty plots, to take in at a glance thesignificance of the scene. She kept perfect silence. The murderof Acerronia showed her that it was her own life which was beingdeliberately attempted under pretence of a shipwreck; but she clungfiercely to that life, horrible as it had become, and little as shecould now hope ultimately to escape the machinations of her son.Taking advantage of the confusion and the darkness, she droppedherself unobserved into the sea. She was a good swimmer, and boldlystruck out for the land; though she then first became conscious thatduring the scuffle she had received a wound in the shoulder, eitherfrom the falling canopy or from the oar of one of the conspirators.Every stroke was painful; she was weighted by her heavy robes, andshe doubted whether her strength would hold out; but still she swamfor the land with all her remaining force. Surely the silent starshad never looked down on a stranger scene! Here was a matron whobut recently had swayed the world, a half-deified Empress, thegreat-granddaughter of Augustus, the daughter of Germanicus, thewife and priestess of one deified Emperor, and the mother of thereigning Cæsar, swimming for her life in the jewelled robes which shehad worn at the imperial banquet--swimming for her life in the d
arkwaves, which became phosphorescent at every stroke, and thus tryingto escape to land from the gilded barge which had been murderouslywrecked by the contrivance of her son!

  It happened that Pudens as one of the officers in charge of thePrætorian escort, was spending his holiday at Baiæ, and had askedTitus to accompany him. King Caractacus and Claudia were also there,and had accepted the invitation of Pudens to join him and their youngfavourite Titus for a moonlight sail on one of the scores of paintedshallops in which the visitors to the watering-place were enjoyingthe beauty of the night. The youth’s eyes had been following the gayvessel which bore Agrippina to Bauli. He saw that there had been somestrange disaster; he had heard the crash of the falling canopy, andthe discordant tumult of cries and groans which followed. He had seena splash in the water, and observed the golden divided ripple behindsome one who was evidently swimming to escape. He instantly steeredthe pleasure-boat toward the swimmer, as did some fishermen inanother vessel who, then as now, were plying their trade by night.The unhappy Empress first reached the boat of Pudens, and thecenturion stretched out his strong arm to rescue her. As she graspedit the light of a torch upheld by Titus shone on his face, and sherecognised the young friend of Britannicus. He, too, by the samelight caught the flash of her jewels, and saw who she was.

  ‘Immortal gods!’ he exclaimed, ‘it is the Empress Agrippina!’

  Claudia at once pressed to her side. Her face was deadly pale, andthe blood of Acerronia had left on it some ghastly spots of crimson.The sleeve of her robe was stained with blood from the wound[*11] inher shoulder. She was almost too exhausted to speak, but she faintlywhispered, ‘Hush! Do not mention my name. Let me be unknown.’

  They laid her on the cushioned seat, and Claudia, sitting beside her,clasped her hand, wrung the sea-water from the folds of her drippingrobe, tenderly parted the wet disordered tresses which clung abouther face, and covered her with a mantle, while, at her request,they rowed her towards the Lucrine lake and the landing-place ofher villa. Titus bade the fisher-boat accompany them, for their ownlittle pinnace was overloaded. When they touched the land he offeredto run up to the villa and order her slaves to bring a litter fortheir mistress. The Empress, however, entreated them not to wait, butto carry her as best they could, for she was too weak to walk. A rudelitter was hastily constructed from a bench of the fishing-boat, andin this humble and pathetic guise the Augusta was carried by Pudensand Titus into the hall of her house, where a group of wondering andterrified slaves awaited her.

  The news had spread like wildfire among the thousands of idlers whowere promenading on the shore, and tumult reigned among them. Whatdid it mean? The night was absolutely calm. There were no rocks inthe bay. No collision had occurred. That there could have been a realshipwreck was impossible. The gods themselves, by the exceptionalcalmness of sea and air, seemed to have interfered to expose thehypocritical pretence of any accident. But if there could have beenno accident, what was it that had happened? What were they to do?They were in wild excitement. All along the shore of the bay werecrowds of men and women, who had streamed out of the villas at thenews of some variously reported disaster. No one knew the real factsof the case. The strangest tales were repeated from mouth to mouth,and on all sides were heard agitated questions and startling butdiscordant answers. The sea-road and the sands and the causewayof the Lucrine lake glimmered with countless torches, which flowednow in one direction, now in another, like streams of fire. The onesteady report was that the Empress had been shipwrecked, and wasin danger of her life; and the one object was to get a share inthe credit of saving her. The piers and boats were crowded with animpatient throng. Some stood at the very edge of the summer waves;others waded neck deep into the warm and glowing water, and stoodwith outstretched hands staring over the sea to catch sight of anyfloating form. Amid the confusion, the little pleasure-boat of Pudenswas seen rippling its golden path toward Baiæ from the landing-stageof Agrippina’s villa, and was instantly surrounded by throngs ofeager questioners. In answer to the confused inquiries, Pudens andTitus said that undoubtedly the splendid state galley had, in someway or other, been shipwrecked, but that the Empress-mother hadescaped by swimming, and was now safe at her own villa.

  As the news spread among the multitudes, they streamed off to thevilla at Bauli to convey their congratulations and to surroundthe house and gardens with applauding cries. Most of them feltan agreeable sensation in the fact that a first-rate incident hadoccurred to break the monotony of idleness and vulgar dissipation.

  But Agrippina was lying in her chamber, shivering, agitated, withaching body and despairing soul. The undaunted woman had betrayed toher slaves and household no sign that she was aware of what had beenintended. She only told them that her galley had been shipwrecked,and her life marvellously preserved. She expressed her deep regretat the loss of her friends Acerronia and Crepereius, and ordered thewill of the former to be produced, and all her effects sealed. Nottill then did she withdraw into privacy, to meditate on what sheshould do. All was too plain now! She understood that sugared letterwhich had summoned her from Antium! She understood why her son hadsailed to Cape Misenum to meet her; why her own galley had beenpurposely run into; why the gorgeous state-barge had been pressedupon her acceptance! She saw through the exquisite banquet, thehypocritical caresses, the murder so deliberately and diabolicallyplanned.... Alas! alas!

  Revenge, the appeal to force, was out of the question. She was illand miserable, and felt drained of all her energies. The crowd buzzedand shouted outside; but she gauged too well their cowardly andvacillating nature to rely on any protection from them. She knew thatat the sight of a dozen soldiers they would be scattered like thechaff. And who would strike a blow for her? Not the mob, for she wasuniversally hated; not the nobles or the Senate, for they loved hernot, and were in any case too selfish, too servile, and too muchsteeped in dissolute luxury to lift a hand on her behalf. Would thePrætorians rise at her bidding? It was more than doubtful, and ifthey would, she was at Bauli and they at Rome.

  But one thistledown of hope remained to bear the weight of her ruinedfortunes. Was it possible that, at the last moment, her son wouldrelent? Those farewell embraces seemed to express something genuine.Perhaps when he found that he had, in spite of himself, escaped theguilt of actual matricide, he might come to a better mind. The godshad offered him one more opportunity for repentance: would he embraceit? Yes; she came to the decision that her best course was to feignignorance of the design of which she had been the victim, and totrust to the reawakenment of filial affection in Nero’s mind.

  She summoned to her presence her freedman Lucius Agerinus.

  ‘Go to the Emperor,’ she said, ‘and tell him that, by the mercifulprotection of the gods, his mother has been saved from a terribledisaster. Anxious as he must naturally be about my safety, ask himnot to cherish any solicitude, but to postpone for the present thevisit which he will wish to pay me. I am greatly in need of rest.’

  Agerinus set out, little foreseeing that he too was potentially amurdered man. Agrippina--ill, disenchanted, utterly weary of theworld--once more lay on her couch, with throbbing brows and laceratedsoul, a prey to unspeakable anguish. A single slave-maiden was herattendant; a single golden lamp shed its dim light from its marblestand over her room. In her utmost need there was not one to whom shecould speak, or in whom she could confide. Oh, how she longed for onehour of Pomponia’s company, for one whisper of the consolation whichhad once fallen for a moment like the dew upon her soul! But Baiæ wasthe last place where Pomponia would be likely to be found.

  The slave-girl, withdrawn into the shadow, and engaged in spinningwool, looked up furtively again and again at the face of the Empress,who was too much absorbed in her own thoughts to notice her. The girlsaw passion after passion chase each other like dark clouds acrossAgrippina’s face. At one moment the clenched hand, the quiveringnostril, the flashing glance, showed that the thought of possiblevengeance was passing through her soul. Then for a moment asofter expre
ssion would smooth her features, as she dreamed of thepossibility of her son’s remorse. Then terror would express itselfon her features as she recognised the frightfulness of her position.Last of all, an infinite languor seemed to droop through her wholebeing, as she resigned herself to sullen despair.

  In those dark uncertain hours she realised all the error andinfatuation of her life. Impunity, after so many crimes? Impunity,when the menacing spectres of perjury and adultery and murder keptstarting upon her out of the darkness? Crispus Passienus poisoned;Lucius Silanus hounded to death by lying informers; his murderedbrother Junius; her husband Claudius--were they all to be unavenged?Had the gods no thunderbolts? Had the guilty ever escaped them? HadTiberius died in peace after his atrocities and crimes? Had Gaiusdied in peace amid the tears of his beloved? Had Messalina escapedthe consequences of her debaucheries and murders? Did not theviolated laws of heaven put into the hand of their transgressorstheir whips of flame? And as she began to realise that Retributiondogs guilt like its own inevitable shadow, the line of the old Greekpoet rang ominously in her memory:--

  ‘Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small. Though in patience long He waiteth, with exactness grinds He all.’

  And, all the while, the nightingales in the gardens of her villa werepealing forth their ecstasy, and the stars shone, and the soft windbreathed of perfume.