US$13.00THE HEART OF MARY
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AMAZONTHE HEART OF MARY.LIFE AND TIMES OF THE HOLY FAMILY
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Book Six
THE LAST OF THE CAESARS
FROM the letters of Petronius to his friend Marcus
Valerius:
“We left, as you know, when the weather was bad enough
in Rome to freeze anyone’s enthusiasm. I had no idea that we were taking with
us such an enormous and incredible train. You know that our divine Nero never
travels with less than a thousand luggage-carts; but this time our train, which
was waiting for us near Preneste, was big enough for
an expedition to the Indies. Of course, we carried not arms but musical
instruments and theatrical props.
“I will pass over the crossing from Brindisi. Touching
at Cassiope in the Isle of Corcira, our Divine sang
in the temple of Jupiter Cassius. I think it was both to exorcise the God and
to try his voice in the clearer air of Greece. From this ancient spot Aenobarbus announced in the most solemn terms, in case we
did not know it, that his artistic tour was now beginning.
“I must say, in all truth, that on the whole the tour
is quite a success. Everywhere Nero is being crowned the victor. Of course, it
is a crazy mixture of pretence and servility. He is performing in all the
public Games of the various cities, and he changes their dates to make them
fall within the compass of his tour; and those Games which have already taken
place he orders to be repeated in his honour, ‘to give these loyal subjects the
opportunity of hearing my golden voice! ’ Our dear friend and Consular
personage Cluvius Rufus goes ahead of our party
announcing the Emperor’s victories: ‘Nero Caesar, Victor in the competition of
Music and Poetry, crowns with this victory the Roman People and the whole
world!’
“You should see with what anxiety our Nero Caesar
engages in these contests, and with what keen desire to win the prize. His awe
of the judges is scarcely to be believed. As if his adversaries were on a level
with himself, at least as far as the winning is concerned, he watches them
narrowly, and makes fun of those who are obviously inferior, those above him he
fusses over; he even tries with generous gifts to induce them to withdraw from
the competition. Sometimes, upon meeting them, he rails at them in scurrilous
language, or defames them behind their backs. Yesterday he said to me, ‘Ah, do
not reproach me 'for this pettiness for it is in the blood of us singers to
speak evil of one another!’
“He always addresses the judges with the most
profound respect, telling them, ‘I have done everything that was necessary,
but the issue of this contest is in the hands of fortune; and you, as wise and
expert judges, ought to pass over things that are merely accidental? Upon which
the judges encourage him to be of good heart; and he feels quite cheered-up.
“The other day it happened that, while waiting for his
turn during the second part of the programme, he dropped his sceptre, which
went rolling on the boards while he chased it, and he was in a great fright
lest the accident would count as a bad mark. Later on, his stage manager had to
swear to him that amidst the public acclamations no one had noticed it.
“When he sings alone he accompanies himself with the
lyre, and around him stand, as usual, all the Palace officials. And among the
audience there is the Legion of the Augustals, no
less than five thousand strong. As the last note is trembling upon Nero’s lips,
the Augustals from all sections of the theatre break
in with thunderous applause. It is indeed a marvellous claque. At times in the
vast silence one hears a solitary ‘Bravo! or a muffled clap in the stalls; more
often loud applause from the pit. Nevertheless, in Greece the Augustals have had to modify their technique. The fact is
that the Greeks are too subtle and accustomed to free opinion in the matter of
stage and music. Sometimes the audience take sides with a favourite artist
against the Emperor.
Most of the competitors, feeling that they are being
deprived of their prizes by the Emperor’s entry, do swear at him. Indeed, we
have had some bad episodes. In the Isthmic Games a singer from Epirus, who had
a splendid voice, entered the competition with great ardour, letting it be
known that he would retire only for an indemnity of ten talents. A band of Augustals seized the fellow and made short work of him. A
bitter joke goes round that the Emperor takes the last breath out of his
competitors.
“I must tell you a funny bit about Greek audiences.
You know that during the performance nobody is allowed to go out of the theatre
upon any account. Well, many spectators being wearied with hearing and
applauding our Nero, and finding that the gates were shut, slipped away over
the walls; some even feigned to be dead and were carried away for their
funeral!
“Last night I dined very pleasantly at the house of
some friends of my banker, Musonius, who had given me letters for them. The
conversation was witty and the table excellent. The main topic was Nero
Caesar’s voice and his performances as a professional singer. And I heard this
opinion: ‘Nero Caesar is neither admirable nor ridiculous. He has an average
voice, quite passable. But he makes it sound croaky because he thinks that he
can give it a dramatic effect by contracting his gizzard; and this is why his singing
sounds rather like a buzzing or humming. Yet he now and then produces sweet
notes when he does not suffer from over-assurance. He is quite good in the melopoeia, in the quaver and in his accompaniment with the cetra. He moves gracefully and rhythmically on the stage;
but he is completely ridiculous when he stands on his toes and shakes his head
and puffs out his chest as great singers do.
“By the way, before going on the stage he throws a
pearl into his wine cup. He says that the pearl enriches his soul and fills his
eyes with the brilliance and glow of mother-of-pearl...
“I must tell you that Nero has taken great care not to
visit Sparta or Athens. He is afraid of the rudeness of the Spartans and no
less suspicious of the Athenians’ wit!
“During this trip we have visited all that deserves
the attention of a pious lover of Nature and Art. Passing near the Lake Alcyon,
in the Peloponnese, our Divine decided to measure the depth that no one has
ever known. He ordered ropes to be made more than a stadium long, had a great
weight attached to their end and let them down. The bottom was never reached.
The surface of the Alcyon is always calm and clear; but he who dares to bathe
in it is sucked down and reappears no more.
“At Thespis we have taken away the statue of Love by
Praxiteles, but in Mycenae we have presented a golden crown to Juno and a
purple robe. At Pisa, near Olympia, Nero took away the statue of Ulysses from
the group representing the Greek Captains deciding which of them should accept
the challenge of Hector.
“As you have heard, Pisa has no other theatre but the
stadium for horse-races, and the contests are solely athletic. Nero introduced
a competition in music and poetry. In this famous arena, the simple crown of
olive leaves has always been considered a kind of Consulship, for a victory at
Olympia is greater for the Greeks than a military triumph for our people in
Rome. Nero decided therefore to accomplish something prodigious before the
Jupiter of Phidias.
“It is a most beautiful stadium, and the setting is
spectacular. Set just below the crest of the mountain, one has the impression
that when the race is finished the charioteers have driven their steeds over
the ridge and into the blue. The atmosphere is supernatural, intoxicating to
the point Of madness. Everything that is extraordinary and miraculous gathers
here in the Games that seem held in the clouds.
“The stadium is adorned with fine statues and monuments,
and a great wood of olive trees and several small temples surround the arena.
At the entry to the hippodrome, the barriers where the competitors meet before
the race form a great courtyard enclosed by splendid buildings. There, in
lodges chosen by the drawing of lots, the competitors instal themselves with
their horses and chariots, to await the day of the races. This section is
divided from the stadium by a portico which is shaped like a prow, jutting into
the lists like a ship in the sea. Above this prow stands a bronze dolphin that
dominates the arena, and behind the dolphin, in the centre of the court preceding
the arena, there is an eagle whose open wings shine above an altar. At the
first signal for the races, by releasing some springs, the dolphin descends to
the ground and disappears, while the eagle rises in the air almost as if it
were flying above the crowd. The chariots come out of the boxes arranged around
the barrier, move towards the portico at the entry of the stadium, take up
position, and at the drop of the flag they start the race.
“Races at Olympia are run anti-clockwise, along an
artificial bank. The horses pass in front of the judges, then fly before the
statue of Hippodamia, and reach a round altar consecrated to a local Geni named Taraxippus. This altar is the terror of all
competitors, for many horses shy and the chariots are overturned. I must add
that this altar stands a few yards from the turning point at the end of the
stadium, near the tomb of Endymion; and there many racers lose control. In the
stadium of Nemea the difficult obstacle is after the turning point: a red rock,
the brightness of which terrifies the horses. At Olympia the second part of the
field has a slight elevation, well suited for a race.
“Nero entered the stadium on a chariot drawn by ten
horses. The animals started with such dash that the chariot overturned in the
dust. Nero insisted on continuing; but the shaking of the ten horses was such
that he could not finish the course. At last he had to get down from his
chariot; and was nevertheless acclaimed the victor.
“And here I must tell you a funny thing. Many
spectators were puzzled why the horses had taken such fright. Only afterwards
the rumour went around that some field attendants had assembled in the cellars
that are underneath the artificial terrace at the point where the racers
approach the altar of Taraxippus, and from their
subterranean hide-out had made noises that frightened the horses. It was a
Greek vengeance on the Emperor for his having robbed the temples Of the finest
statues.
“ In Attica our Divine did not dare to visit either
the small mysteries of Agra, on the border of the Ilissus,
or the great mysteries of Eleusis. The last initiation ceremony was opened at
night by a herald announcing the exclusion of the uninitiated and Of those who
had sullied themselves with crime.
“ Nero was terrified of this voice. Maybe the Greeks
would have terrified him at Eleusis as they had tricked him at Olympia.
“On the other hand, in Delphi he consulted the oracle,
and was delighted with Apollo. He has indeed done so much for Apollo that the
God showed himself benevolent and forecast a long reign for him! But later on
the Sybil changed her tune and she classed him with Alcmaeon and Orestes. Our
Caesar was mightily annoyed. Without more ado he purchased the territory of Cirrha that belongs to the temple, and in order to destroy
the oracle he contaminated the exhalations that evoke the sibyl, by having some
men butchered on the spot. The hole from which the mysterious smoke rose was
filled with the blood and the corpses, whereupon Nero defied the God to resist
such profanation.
“I have heard it said that the Greeks cannot but feel
delighted at the result of this Imperial tour, for Nero has granted Greece the
only gift that could console her people for their lost glory. He has rendered
freedom to Greece, whatever that means.
“Our Consul had the proclamation read by the Heralds
and Nero himself announced it from the middle of the stadium during the Isthmic
Games.
“Great news. Nero Caesar decided to cut the Isthmus of
Corinth.” It was a plan that already Demetrius, Julius Caesar and Caligula had
had in mind to execute, but people say that that was the mysterious cause of
their tragic end. Superstition has it that when the first pickaxe struck the
ground, blood spurted from the earth, and terrible moans and lamentations were
heard.
On the appointed day our Divine walked out of his
golden tent singing the hymns of Amphitrite and of Neptune and reciting lines
in honour of Melicertes and Leucothea. The Governor
of Acaia presented him with a golden axe engraved
with the date of the ceremony, and amidst the plaudits of the crowd (duly
interspersed with Augustals) our Caesar struck the
ground three times. No moans or lamentations were heard, no blood spurted from
the ground; and Nero carried away a gilt basketful of earth upon his shoulder.
“The work went on for a few days, but yesterday from
Corinth, where we are staying, we sent orders to stop the work. The fact is
that a courier has arrived from Helius, our dear Legate in Rome, with letters
informing Nero Caesar that a new conspiracy is afoot and begging him to return
at once. So far he has replied that the pursuit of glory is more pressing than
any conspiracy; but it seems that Helius is on the way in person post-haste.
Have you any idea who is in this conspiracy?”
II
Claudius Helius and Polyclete,
the two Regents in Nero’s absence, had interpreted their powers as a means to
proscribe the wealthiest citizens and despoil them. More serious things,
however, were disturbing the politicians in Rome. During his Greek tour Nero
had put to death one of his best-serving Generals, Corbulo.
He had summoned Corbulo with a letter in almost
filial terms; but as soon as the General landed at Cenchreae, one of the three
harbours of Corinth, he found an order to commit suicide. Struck by this black
ingratitude, the old soldier bitterly regretted his devotion to the Emperor.
Even more he regretted not having answered the call to redress the course of
events, and letting himself fall upon his battle-sword, he uttered only one
word: “Dignus”— I have deserved it.
News of Corbulo’s death
reached Rome simultaneously with news from Judaea, where the Jewish war was
proving a tougher job than anticipated. Helius, therefore, felt that the
Emperor was wrong not to listen to him when he had pressed him to see the
Jewish War through before setting out for Greece.
When news reached Rome that the Palace in Tiberias was
sacked by the Jews, Helius called a meeting of the Cabinet. The Ministers were
no longer Romans but Greek and Orientals, sons and grandsons of former slaves,
and for all their efforts to show the calm and dignity of Roman Senators, they
did not really care one way or another about the events in the East. As for
himself, the handsome Claudius Helius knew that it was very rash of the Emperor
to continue his fantastic tour of Greece; but Helius now carried the Imperial
seal. He thought that he too might be fated to die young and that cutting his
wrists or inhaling gold-foil was not too dear a price for the experience of
ruling the Empire pro tern. Still, it was wiser and dutiful to press the
Emperor to return and he dispatched a new courier, this time carrying not a
garland of laurel on his spear for good omen, but the feather which foretold
of bad news.
Nero was at Corinth, busy in rehearsing his drama
Danae. The news about Judaea was a great bother; perhaps it might be better to
appoint someone who would use a firmer hand.
Work on the Isthmus was stopped. As official reason it
was announced that the Egyptian geometers had let it be known that great evils
would occur if the Canal were opened. Reluctantly the Emperor made his
departure for Rome. In Greece people laughed, but in Rome everybody was glad to
learn that the Emperor was returning. The Senate surpassed itself in adulation,
and voted such a number of religious celebrations and offerings to the Gods
that the whole year would not sec them through.
The Senate, however, did not realize that Nero’s
popularity was on the wane. What had made the people change their heart? It
seems quite difficult to explain it when the circumstances of Nero’s immense
popularity are borne in mind; but the truth is that the people of Rome, who had
forgiven Nero anything, were not prepared to forgive him the sullying of his
Imperial dignity in the eyes of foreigners, and of Greeks at that. What was
permissible in Rome should not be done in the Colonies. The patricians were
indignant at the idea of a Caesar clambering upon the stage to beg a crown of
laurel and the plaudits of a foreign crowd. The populace were hurt that the
Emperor should go and court the favour of an alien people. The love of the
people of Rome should have been enough for him.
No one knew who put it into circulation, but the
general talk was, “The Emperor has not realized that it was better to vaunt his
power rather than bring it into contempt.” The visit to Greece had been a big
mistake.
As soon as he landed in Italy, the Emperor met with a
conspiracy at Beneventum. It was not a very serious affair, but it was
symptomatic. Nero proceeded towards Rome, intending to celebrate a triumph no
less solemn than those of Paulus Emilius and of the brothers Scipio. The Senate
encouraged him in this hope. The voyage to Rome was one long ovation. The
Emperor seemed anxious to show himself in all the places that were dear to him.
He entered Naples by a special gate and upon a chariot drawn by six white horses,
for Naples had seen his debut as a singer. He visited Anzio, his native town,
and Alba, sanctuary of Jupiter Latial.
Rome gave him the pomp and splendour of a great
triumph. Nero entered the City upon the carriage that had been used by
Augustus, wearing a purple robe edged with gold, and upon his Shoulders an
azure cloak bespattered with golden stars. The crown of the Olympic Games, made
of a wild olive branch, rested upon his head, and in his right hand he carried
the prize of the Pythian Games, a branch of laurel. Before him marched eighteen
hundred heralds, each carrying a crown, and above each crown was a board giving
the name of the Game and the place in which the prize was won. Nero had
associated in his triumph the musician Doriphore, who
rode now with the Emperor upon his Imperial coach. Behind the Emperor came the
Legion of the Claque, delighted to shout that they were the partners of the
Emperor’s success and the legionaries of his artistic campaign. In lieu of the
fierce and weatherbeaten campaigners of the first Caesar, shouting their
insults to the vanquished and their ribald jests to the victorious General,
there came instead the Knights and the effete Senate, chanting, like a chorus,
the acclamations that had been carefully prepared and rehearsed: “Ah, Olympic
Victor! Ah, Pythian Conqueror! New Augustus, new Augustus, O Nero Apollo! Ah,
Sacred Voice!”
Nero was overwhelmed with pride and joy. He felt that
he had covered himself with an incomparable glory. One arch of the Circus
Maximus was taken down, to enable the Emperor to pass through the breach and
proceed along the Velabrum and the Forum. All along
the route the streets were covered with saffron, rare birds were released,
cakes and sweets were thrown to the populace, with ribbons and flowers and at
night the whole City was illuminated, garlanded with flowers and perfumed with
frankincense from a hundred burners. At every crossway perfumes were burnt, and
upon every altar. When the triumphal chariot passed a temple, beautiful beasts
were slain as offerings.
After traversing the Forum the procession did not go
up to the Capitol to render thanks to Jupiter as tradition demanded, but turned
right and went up to the Palatine, along the Victory Road. After passing the
altar of Mars the Imperial chariot halted at the temple of Apollo, the one that
was built by Augustus near the Palace after the battle of Actium. It was indeed
a fad of the Julian Family to show preference to Apollo rather than Jupiter.
Besides, Nero did not feel the piety which led Julius Caesar and Claudius to
climb the one hundred steps up to the Capitol; and no temple was more suitable
than Apollo’s for an Emperor who was returning from an artistic tour of Greece.
The atrium of Apollo’s temple on the Palatine was a
square courtyard flanked by a peristyle supported by slender pillars of yellow
marble. Fifty equestrian statues of Corinthian brass, representing the children
of Egypt, were ranged around the peristyle, and the frontage of the temple rose
in the middle of the courtyard. Between the columns were fifty marble statues
of the fifty daughters of Danaus, all standing. The front had six fluted
columns of Parian marble, resting upon a range of eleven steps, which added to
the elegance and majesty of the building. There was something grand and solemn
in the array of statues standing around the temple, and in the quadriga of
brass, upon which was represented Apollo himself, the God of Light, thus
dominating the Eternal City.
The brilliant procession moved into the atrium of
Apollo. Nero greeted the God more with pride than devotion, calling him
brother; then he brought his eighteen hundred crowns into the Golden House,
without offering a single one to the God. He said Apollo was jealous of him.
All around his private rooms and above his bed he hung the crowns he had won in
the sacred contests. The others were taken into the Neronian Circus to add
splendour to the Games he was going to give and the Egyptian obelisk which stood
in the middle of the arena was completely covered with crowns. Without delay,
artists were ordered to model statues of Nero Caesar in the attire of a harper
and medals to be struck showing him in the same attire.
After this the Emperor was so concerned in preserving
his voice that he kept a singing master standing by him all the time to caution
him against overstraining his vocal chords.
III
Soon after came Petronius’s death. The fact was that
Rome’s Clubs were tittering over the Satyricon. Nero was half inclined to ask
his friend to read to him the manuscript of the saucy novel himself. From one
artist to another, it might be nothing more than a clever joke. But Tigellinus
was itching to be rid of the only rival that he really feared. Had not the
Emperor told him, a few days earlier, that in Rome there were only two really
clever men—and while Tigellinus was already savouring the pleasure of hearing
his name, the Emperor had added in his most bantering way, “Myself and
Petronius.”
The Arbiter Elegantiarum listened blandly to the Centurion who brought the fateful message. Petronius
possessed so much composure and such haughty serenity that resignation to die
cost him no effort. There was nothing tragic or sorrowful in dying. He prepared
his end with care, in no haste, without the slightest irritation. The elegant
Petronius kept his sense of humour even in death.
Money had bought the treachery of a slave. The loyal
friendship that had existed between Petronius and Scevinus,
at the time of Piso’s conspiracy, was brought up against Petronius. When
Petronius was told, he merely remarked, “I am losing Nero’s favour by the same
negligence with which I obtained it.” The Imperial order reached him while he
was journeying to join the Emperor at Cuma. The order was to stop and wait.
Already Petronius’s slaves and servants in Rome had been arrested. When told of
it, Petronius smiled and turned to his friends, and made ready to die. As it
was the usual practice, he first had his veins opened, but after an abundant
loss of blood he asked his doctor to close the wound, and he took some sleep.
Then he rose, walked a while, chatted gaily with his friends, laughed at some
witty jests. He distributed his properties among his friends; gave gifts of
money to his servants, and proffered his arms again to the lancet.
When death was near, he asked his most intimate
friends to come closer to the bed, added a few codicils to his Will, but
avoided addressing vulgar flatteries to the Emperor. From a casket he took out
a roll, and read to his friends some passages from the Satyricon: “I am leaving
this copy to Nero, but my Publishers have already more than one hundred copies
ready for distribution.”
When Nero heard that Petronius was dead, he asked with
anxious face what had become of “the cup.” It was one of the most beautiful murrinae cups. All Rome envied Petronius that cup, and Nero
himself had often complained that he did not own such a rare goblet. Nero was
told that Petronius had drunk a last toast to his friends and to Life, then he
had let the cup fall upon the marble floor.
Nero opened the roll of the Satyricon, but only at
night, in his room. Petronius’s writings deserved close attention. After
reading a few passages Nero frowned. Who was that gross and ridiculous Trimalcion, the principal character of the satyrical novel? Who had told Petronius the secrets of the
Emperor’s private orgies? Nero’s suspicion fell upon the Lady Silia. The lady
was exiled.
IV
Now the Emperor was concerned with nothing else but to
preserve his voice. Continuously he pressed a handkerchief to his lips to
breathe more sweetly; no longer did he harangue the Praetorian Guards. A
Consular person read Nero’s speeches whenever the Emperor should speak in
public.
His greatest concern was to have a marble or bronze
statue representing him in the dress of his triumph, like a musician who had
won a competition. He spoke of this statue and he asked the most famous
sculptors to submit sketches. He said, “Chance made me Emperor, but I was
really born to be an artist”
His mind seemed to be affected. He announced that
having surpassed Apollo, he must now emulate Hercules: he announced that he
would appear in the arena armed with a clava,
fighting a lion.
But Fate decreed otherwise.
The new Consuls had just been appointed: Silius Italicus, a poetaster, and a cheap orator, Trachalus by name. It was the year 68. At the beginning of
March, Nero went to Naples. After so many contests and great shows, he felt he
needed a rest.
Also, his voice was causing him deep concern. He was
now playing only small parts in comedies, while preparing for other triumphs as
a singer. Affairs of State bored him to death. Why did they not let him pursue
in peace his artistic career?
While he was thus resting, he received news of the
revolt in Gaul. The Emperor took no heed. Indeed, for eight days he answered no
letters. Strangely enough, the news had reached him on the nineteenth of March,
the anniversary of his mother’s death, nine years before. The Gauls, the
message said, had risen at the instigation of a local leader called Vindex, a
native of Aquitania. Vindex’s father had been admitted by Claudius to the
dignity of the Senate. At his father’s death Vindex succeeded him in the Senate,
but the young man was intolerant of Nero’s rule and mode of life. Before the
order of death reached him, Vindex had deceived everybody by drinking a
decoction of cumin which gave him such a pale air that the Court decided to
let him die in peace.
Instead, Vindex took horse for far-away Gaul; his
health demanded his native air. There he took in hand the revolt that was
already brewing. And he offered the Empire to Galba.
Sulpicius Galba, Governor of Spain, was a man of
simple tastes, with the reputation of an honest administrator. Tiberius, who
was a shrewd ruler, had enlisted his services long ago and had him elected
Consul. He had called Galba for an audience at Capri, and fixing upon him his
owlish eyes, Tiberius had told him, “And you too, Galba, will taste the
Imperial power!” Some said that already Augustus had made the same forecast
when one day he had caressed the chin of the infant Galba. Under Claudius those
predictions had been rather inconvenient for Galba, when Agrippina was
all-powerful; and under Nero, Galba had thought it wise to live quietly and
accept the offices that had come his way.
But during the last few years he had affected to
neglect the administration of Tarragona, so that his subjects had fallen under
the depredations of Nero’s proteges. In that way Galba had prepared his
popularity with the natives, while all over Spain people sang scurrilous songs
against the Emperor.
Vindex now confided to Galba his plans, and offered
him the throne. Then he called a meeting of provincial chiefs. Soon Vindex had
on his side the Aquitainians, the Sequani, the Arveni,
and the Viennese. Only the people of Lyons remained loyal to Nero in gratitude
for the help he had sent them after the fire that destroyed their city.
Now Vindex had under him one hundred thousand men.
Feeling sure of success, he pressed Galba to take the lead.
When Vindex’s envoys arrived, Galba was at.
Cartagena. At the same time he received a message from Nero’s
Lieutenant-General in Aquitania requesting him to march against Vindex. Galba
therefore called a meeting of his councillors; his Lieutenant Vinius declared that the mere act of discussing whether to
remain faithful to the Emperor or to desert him was already tantamount to a
betrayal. Orders to kill Galba were already on the way. Whereupon Galba
proclaimed himself against Nero.
At once the Governor of Lusitania, Salvius Otho,
former husband of the late Empress Poppaea, supported Galba: and Otho found a
bitter sweetness in having a chance to revenge himself for having been deprived
of his wife. Moreover, he hoped to be adopted by Galba who was an old man and
'had no children.
Galba had the simple habits of an ancient Roman. Otho
sent to him his majordomo with a chest full of
beautiful table silver, telling him that it was necessary for the Prince to
keep up a style suitable to his rank. But Galba did not appreciate the dinner
service.
V
In Naples, Nero underestimated Vindex’s revolt. He
believed it was merely one of the common insurrections in the Provinces, and
continued his usual mode of life. The Provincial Governors received no reply.
Eight days were thus lost. Eight fatal days. Other
news arrived. Vindex had called Nero “that poor harper Aenobarbus.”
This Nero could not stand. An Imperial letter was immediately sent to the
Senate demanding that the Emperor should be placed in a position to revenge the
injuries made to the person of Nero Caesar and to Rome. The letter ended with a
few lines of apologies for a cold that compelled the Emperor to nurse his
throat and his voice and prevented him from coming in person to address the
Senate.
In the meanwhile, all Rome was agog with the grave
news from Gaul. The Emperor must return at once to Rome. At last Nero agreed.
But on the way from Naples he stopped to view a new
musical instrument, an organ operated by water, which, according to Vitruvius,
had been invented by Ctesibus of Alexandria. It was
like an oblong chest with the pipes above it, and one such organ is depicted on
the reverse of a medallion of Caracalla.
Further on the way the Emperor saw upon a tomb the
image of a Gaul being 'held down by a Roman cavalryman. With delight he cried
that it was a good omen, and continued his voyage in high spirits.
So Nero arrived in Rome. Yet, instead of calling a meeting of the Senate he sent for the
principal Senators for consultation. But the important subject in hand was
disposed of in a few minutes, after which the Emperor showed the Senators the
new marvellous hydraulic organ. “With Vindex’s permission,” he said, “we shall
have a similar organ installed in the Circus.” The Senators smiled obligingly.
But all Rome was in a state of alarm.
Nero took up residence at the Golden House, and
without worry he continued, his usual life. He aimed in this way to reassure
the people. But even more he wanted to deceive himself with a false sense of
security.
The news of Galba’s revolt came as a thunderbolt. Nero
was at his midday meal when the message was brought to him, and he let the
crystal cup drop from his hand. Then he tried to turn the news into a joke,
“Well, well, the divinity is truly respected. Does not Galba claim to descend
from Jupiter on his father’s side and from Pasiphae on his mother’s?”
But Nero knew that though Vindex’s revolt might be
only the expression of the discontent or independence of a Province, the
self-proclamation of Galba as Emperor meant something very different and new.
Galba was an important man, by his birth and by his services; Galba was in fact
the avenger of the Senate and of Roman tradition. And Nero had retained a vague
belief in virtue and divine laws, if it were only to consider himself their
true embodiment.
Further news said that the Legions in Germany and
Africa had revolted too, and that each claimed the right to choose an Emperor.
The German troops wanted Fontenius Capito; the
Africans, Claudius Macer. But Galba, supported by the troops of Spain and Gaul,
was now marching hastily towards Italy, and his triumph seemed assured.
This latest news threw the Emperor into a state of
despair. He cried and wept m the arms of his old nurse, like a child. Then,
his dramatic spirit made him look upon it as an unrivalled tragedy, “My
misfortune is unexampled! My Empire goes to another man and I am still alive!”
Better news arrived. Nero at once gave a banquet, and
composed satyrical verses against the rebels and
ordered that they should be sung in the musical shows.
Grises of deep depression seized him. He remembered that at Delphi the prophecies had
told him to beware of the seventieth year. He had then taken it to mean that he
would die at that age, and had waved his hand deprecatingly, “O Divine Apollo,
spare me from my own senility!” But the Sybil meant the age of Galba—who was
seventy-three.
When the news grew worse the Emperor gave vent to
strange and monstrous ideas. He spoke of massacring all the Gauls resident in
Rome and of abandoning the entire Province of Gaul to the plunder of the
armies. He talked of poisoning the whole Senate at a great feast.
But actually he confined himself to removing the two
Consuls from office and assumed the Consulship himself without a colleague.
Upon taking the fasces, emblem of the Consulship, he gave an entertainment at
the Palace. As he walked out of the room on the arms of two friends, he said
that as soon as he would arrive in Gaul he would present himself to the troops,
not in arms but in tears: “They shall be moved by my pathetic appearance—you
see the advantage of being a great actor!” And the following day he would
celebrate their repentance and sing a song of triumph, “In fact, I must apply
myself to composing it right away.”
The Emperor summoned the City Tribes to enlist, but as
nobody volunteered, he ordered all masters to send a certain number of slaves.
He decreed an immediate levy on all estates; all owners of houses and mansions
must pay one year’s rent into the Exchequer: but only new coins of the purest
silver and gold would be acceptable. Everywhere the people said that Nero had
gone completely mad.
It happened that at that time a shortage of corn
occurred. At last a ship arrived from Alexandria, but alas, it carried not a
cargo of grain but of yellow sand for the wrestlers, the so-called golden sand
in which the wrestlers rolled their bodies slippery with oil and perspiration,
and which gave them a wonderful glimmer. The people went frantic with rage.
Upon one of the Emperor’s statues a hand placed a small chariot with a Greek
inscription, “Now indeed he has a race to run; let 'him be gone!” To another
statue a little bag was tied, with these words, “Truly you have deserved the
bag.” It was a menacing allusion to the murder of his mother, the emblem of the
ancient punishment of the matricide, who was sewed up in a sack, with a goat, a
cock, a viper and an ape, and thrown into the sea or a deep river to die. And
upon the pillars in the Forum a jesting hand wrote: “With his poor singing he
has even enraged the Gallos” which meant both the cocks and the Gauls.
At night the Emperor had terrifying dreams. “I never
used to have bad dreams till my mother died.” But now the frightening dreams
which had troubled his nights after Agrippina’s death came to haunt him again.
One night he fancied that he was steering a ship and the rudder was forced from
him; the ghost of that slip of a girl that was his wife Octavia was dragging
him into a terrifying dark place. Another night he dreamed that he was attacked
by a huge swarm of winged ants. And that a Spanish jennet he was fond of had
taken the shape of an ape with only its head left unaltered, and it neighed at
him ominously. He dreamed that he saw the doors of the mausoleum of Augustus
fly open, and there issued from the great tomb a stertorous voice, calling him
by name. Another night he dreamt that he was on the way to the Theatre of
Pompey, but the statues of the Nations of the Empire, which were arrayed before
the Theatre’s entrance, barred him the way.
All sorts of bad omens occurred. The Lares of the
Palace, being adorned with fresh garlands, fell during the preparations. When
the representatives of the civic orders were assembling for the ceremony of
making vows to the Gods, the keys of the Capitol could not be found. And the
last time the Emperor sang on the stage the piece he had chosen was Oedipus in
Exile, and he fell upon the boards while he was singing the line
Wife, mother, father, all force me to my end ...
But there were worse occurrences than dreams and
omens. Huge crowds paraded the streets, calling with great cries: “Vindex!
Vindex!” And the name was ominous in itself.
VI
At the Emperor’s request the Senate proclaimed Galba a
public enemy. His estate was sold and upon his head was placed a price. But in
his turn, Galba sold up all Nero’s properties in Spain. When Vindex heard that
there was a price upon his head, he answered, “Nero offers ten million
sesterces for my head; I am ready to give my own head to whomsoever will bring
me Nero’s!”
The Emperor made frantic efforts to appear calm and
conduct business. He summoned a Privy Council at the Palace, and to the few
faithful councillors he outlined his plans. “We must dismiss all Provincial
Governors. Let them be arrested forthwith and brought to Rome. Tomorrow we
shall take into custody all foreigners, and put to death all the Gauls and
Spaniards in Rome. If the Senate disagrees, I shall dismiss the Senate. We may
as well put all the Senators to death. What we need is a dictatorship.”
He ordered the recruiting of a Legion of Marines,
recalled detachments from Illyria and despatched troops to Gaul. Perhaps if he
had put himself at the head of three Legions taking with him the Praetorian
Guards he might have crushed the rebellion. But he did nothing.
Had his brain snapped altogether? With the funds
supplied by the landowners he enrolled the professional prostitutes, dressed
them splendidly, and called them his Company of Amazons. An army train was made
ready to transport his musical instruments to the front. To his dismayed
friends he declared, “What matters? An artist will always survive.”
A proclamation was prepared for the people: it
announced that Nero would conquer the enemy with the charm of his singing. When
dissuaded from issuing such a mad document, he said, “ I shall nevertheless
arrive in Gaul, and I will, all alone, go to the front line and show the rebels
my face, pale, washed by tears, the very image of sorrow and despair. That will
move thorn and turn them again to Rome.” Thea he added, “ And if this does not
succeed, I will attempt a new wonderful effort to save the Empire—I shall play
the organ”!”
While Nero’s mind was thus meandering towards complete
folly, serious things were happening in the Provinces. In Africa, Claudius
Macer wanted to be independent for he recognized neither Nero nor Galba. In
Upper Germany, Virginius Rufus refused to submit to Galba; and although he
openly repudiated Nero, he marched into Gaul against Vindex as a punishment for
his impudence in appointing an Emperor of his own choice.
Rome listened to the rumble of the approaching armies.
From the Golden House Nero issued order upon order. The Court smiled
complacently and no order was executed.
If Nero had still been capable of controlling his
emotions, his very inaction might have saved him. The defeat of Vindex at the
hands of Virginius Rufus, and the new quarrel between Rufus and Galba could
have been exploited to the Emperor’s advantage. But Nero let anyone and
everyone see that he considered himself utterly lost.
He was at dinner when news arrived that the rest of
the armies had revolted. He tore the letter to pieces, overthrew the table, and
smashed two favourite cups which he called Homer’s because they were engraved
with lines from Homer. Then, clutching in his hand a small gold box in which
was a strong poison prepared by Locusta, he retired to the Gardens of Servilius.
But he was reluctant to die. He thought of making
submission to Galba; of applying to King Tiridates for protection. Or of
appearing upon the rostra dressed in mourning and beg the Roman people to leave
him at least the government of Egypt. He prepared the speech—it was afterwards
found in his writing-case.
Or it might have been simpler to take flight to
Alexandria. A trusted freedman was sent to Ostia to prepare a small fleet.
Then Nero tried to win to this plan the officers of the Guards. The Praetorians
would have followed him in war, but they declined to take flight from Rome. One
of the officers replied with Virgil’s line: “Is it so sad to die?”
There was a terrible irony in this, 'for this line is
upon the lips of Turnus when he decides to have a mortal combat with his
enemy. Instead, Nero told the Court that he would dance the ballet Turnus for
his last night in Rome.
VII
The Palace was now quite deserted. The Senators no
longer obeyed a summons to an audience. Amidst general laughter the Company of
Amazonian Prostitutes had taken flight, for the safety of their tresses.
Near the Emperor was left only a small group of old
slaves, who had been Nero’s personal attendants since his childhood, his nurses Ecloga and Alexandra, his freedmen Phaon and Sporus and his secretary Epaphroditus. And there
was the faithful Acte. She still loved “her Prince
with the auburn hair.” She still believed he was her young Lucius Domitius,
just a little mad in the head, but that one could make him go straight if only
one knew how to handle him. She still loved him with a devotion that was almost
pious.
The last traitor was the man Nymphidius who pretended to have been born of Caligula and a courtesan. Nero had made him
a Tribune at the time of Piso’s conspiracy, and later Praefect of the
Praetorium with Tigellinus. But Nymphidius had
conceived a furious passion for the freak Sporus; and now he told the
Centurions and the Guards that Nero had already fled from Rome. As Nero was in
hiding, the lie sounded true. The Praetorian Guards felt highly indignant, for
they considered themselves deserted by the Emperor. When the Guards assembled
in the field, Nymphidius proposed to them to acclaim
Galba Emperor, and promised them a prize of one thousand sesterces to each man
and six hundred for each Legionary. No one could pay such an extravagant bonus,
and in view of Galba’s avarice it could be taken for sure that he would
discount the promise. Nymphidius therefore obtained a
satanic double result—to alienate the Praetorians from Nero without making them
loyal to Galba.
It was the night of the 10th of June, the year 68.
The troops were marching on Rome. In the City the
people considered Nero as already dismissed. There was in the air the tension
that precedes a revolution.
After endless discussion with his friends, sick with
fatigue and still convinced that Fortune would assist him, Nero postponed all
decisions till the morrow.
At night-time, before taking leave of him, his
secretary Epaphroditus and the minion Sporus told Nero that they considered it
advisable that he should quit Rome without delay. Anything, they said, might
happen now, at any moment. Vindex’s troops were already entering the City. This
night there was not too much moon, they could travel unobserved. If they could
reach Ostia before daybreak there was a trusted ship that would take them all
away.
“Must I really take flight?” Nero queried plaintively,
forgetful that he himself had planned to have ships in readiness at Ostia.
“Must the master of the world escape like a thief in the night, his nose in his
mantle? My friends, I will climb the rostra and address the people. I will
announce to Rome that I am leaving for the East where a new Empire is waiting
for me!”
“Don’t do it,” said Epaphroditus. “If the people see
you they will kill you.”
“Do they hate me so?”
“No, they don’t hate you. But they have had enough of
you.”
Yet Nero still insisted. “Let us wait until tomorrow.”
Alone he reached his bedchamber, and went to sleep.
But about midnight he awoke full of terror. He had the
feeling of being alone in the immense Palace, the feeling of finding himself
completely abandoned.
He leapt out of bed and called for his servants. But
none came. He left the room, where his most precious treasures and collections,
and all the worthless prizes and crowns that he had won at the singing contests
were assembled, and he walked to the terrace. No one was mounting guard at his
door. Only a few servants were still about, scurrying and pilfering. Nero
called aloud for his friends. He received no answer. Dejectedly he returned to
his rooms where happily there was now Epaphroditus with Sporus and the freedman Phaon, who suggested that they should take Shelter at
his countryhouse.
The four returned to the pavilion in the Garden of
Servilius. Here a new surprise awaited Nero. The golden box with the poison
prepared by Locusta was no longer in its place. Nor was the bracelet made of a
make’s skin which Agrippina had given him and which he had worn since he was a
boy as a lucky charm.
Four horses were in readiness. Barefoot and dad only
in his tunic over which he slipped an dd idled cloak, the Emperor mounted a
horse, with his head muffled up and a handkerchief over his face. The four left
the Palace grounds. Suddenly a flash of lightning lit up Nero’s face. He was
struck with terror, for it was a bad omen. From a neighbouring camp came the
cries of the troops, who were hailing the name of Galba.
Phaon’s house stood near the river Anio beyond the present Church of St. Agnes, on the
Via Nomentana. The party left by the Salarian Road,
which was so called because the old Sabine used it to fetch salt from the
coast. It led out from Rome to the north, near the Gardens of Sallust, by a
Gate called Salaria or Quirinalis. A little lower down the Salaria joined the
Via Nomentana at a place called Heretum, on the
Tiber. It was easy for the fugitive and his party to reach the Gate, and on
issuing from it they had the Praetorian Camp close on their right hand.
Further on, a traveller, seeing the party bent upon
their horses necks, shouted, “They are in pursuit of Nero Caesar!” Another
enquired the latest news in the City. Nero’s horse scented a corpse in the
road, and shied with fright. The handkerchief fell from Nero’s face, and an old
soldier returning to the camp recognized him and saluted him by name.
When they came to the lane which led to Phaon’s house, they dismounted and with difficulty wound
their way along a track through a bed of rushes. As Nero was barefooted, his
friends threw their cloaks on the ground for him.
At last they reached the wall that enclosed the small
garden. Daylight was now breaking, and Phaon suggested
to Nero that he go and hide himself in a sand quarry, in a hole which the
workmen used for rest. “Do you want to bury me alive?” said Nero. “No, I will
not go. Open me your house, let me enter like the Emperor, whatever the future
may bring.”
Yet he stood in the quarry a little time, while
preparations were made for bringing him into the house without waking up the
servants; and feeling thirsty he drank some water from a tank, in his cupped
hands.
At last he crept into the house through a hole in the
wall, and he lay down in a small closet, upon a pallet, with an old coverlet;
and though he felt hungry, he could not bring himself to eat the coarse bread,
but drank some warm water.
Now his friends pressed him to save himself from the
indignities that would befall him if he were caught. Nero looked at them in
astonishment. Then he told them to prepare a grave of his size, and to place
around it some marble tablets if any could be found about the house, and to
have water and wood ready for washing and burning his body.
Suddenly a noise was heard outside. Phaon rushed out and came back with the message that Nero
had been recognized by a Praetorian and that the Senate was informed of his
flight. There was no more hope. The frankincense was already burning in the
temples for the new Emperor and Nero had been declared a public enemy and
sentenced according to the Laws.
From his belt Nero pulled out a dagger and tried the
point speculatively. He put it back in its golden scabbard saying, “The hour
has not yet come.”
Nevertheless he begged Sporus to begin the
lamentations of the dead, and asked Phaon to set an
example by killing himself.
Again there was sound of horses approaching the house.
Nero listened and uttered, in Greek, a line from die Iliad: The noise of
swift-footed steeds assails my ears... And suddenly he was no longer
frightened. A slave appeared at the door saying that the house was surrounded.
Nero put the dagger to his throat. His secretary Epaphroditus gave it a push.
The dagger went in to the hilt.
When the Centurion who had come to arrest Nero Caesar
entered the room, the Emperor was still breathing. Hoping to be able to seize
his prey alive, the Centurion cried that he had come to help him.
Nero looked up at the officer and his lips murmured:
“What a great artist dies!”
Thus he breathed his last, with his eyes wide open.
Some hours later, Acte reached the house, with the two old nurses who had reared with love the child
Lucius Domitius. The corpse lay upon the floor, scarcely covered with the
miserable cloak. The face had suddenly undergone a terrible change. It was a
ravaged face, the image of dissolution and folly; so that Acte stared at the body in great surprise, and only by the auburn hair did she
recognize the Emperor Nero.
VIII
Julius, Galba’s freedman, assented to a funeral
fitting to a Roman Emperor. From the moment that news of Nero’s death became
known in Rome, the people’s hate gave place to general consternation and
regret. Popular favour protected his memory. The bed upon which Nero’s body was
carried to the pyre was covered with the white robes embroidered with gold
which the Emperor had worn for the New Year. The body was burned in the Campus
Martius, in the very bustum or private crematorium
of the Caesars. The faithful Acte and the old nurses
deposited his ashes in the tomb of the Domitii, which
stood on top of the Gardens Hill, Collis Hortulorum,
now the Pincio Gardens, so called from the name of a family that flourished
under the lower Empire. It was a beautiful position, visible from the Campus
Martius. And in the tomb there was a coffin of porphyry, with an altar of Luna
marble over it, enclosed by a wall of grey stone from Thasos. The expenses of
Nero’s funeral amounted to two hundred thousand sesterces, and the people of
Rome wept aloud, and for a long time afterwards they decked his tomb with
flowers.
Nero’s death, the last of the Caesars, left in Rome
and in the whole Empire an immense void. Rome became the scene of terrible
disorders. When Galba arrived, at the sight of the old man, who was a gouty
miser, the people and the very Senate regretted the reign of Nero and his
brilliant youth. The crimes of Galba’s Ministers helped Otho’s ambitions, and
Otho deserted Galba and had him murdered with the sole result of being himself
quickly supplanted by Vitellius, a man who was the embodiment of lewdness and who
passed to history only for his unbelievable gluttony. His reign was a
continuous and disgusting orgy. With an army of sixty thousand foreigners he
sacked all Italy, distributing to his troops huge rations of meat such as were
given to the gladiators, and sixty thousand batmen served the sixty thousand
barbarous troops.
The memory of Nero became so dear to the people of
Rome that the populace paraded the streets calling for the death of Tigellinus
as the man who had perverted and ruined Nero Caesar. Under Galba, Otho and
Vitellius, Rome saw nothing but horrors, licentious debauchery and civil war.
And soon a legend arose, that Nero was not dead; and more than half a century
after his death people whispered that Nero was alive and would return and again
make happy the people of Rome. For such are the vagaries of human nature.
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