Chapter XI
ON the border of a desert where vegetation struggles against the arid breath of sterility, appear smiling and restful oases. But these oases perish, one by one, with the drying up of the life-giving springs. When the flame of an untempered summer burns out life, when the brackish water sinks in the wells under the spade of anxious man, when all the emerald isles of the desert vanish until one only is left, there arises in that one, amid the cries of overwhelming despair, a fervent prayer for help and protection. Such was the life of Agrippina,[2]the solitary grandchild of the Divine Augustus.
The early springtime of her life was filled with sunshine and the blossoms of happiness. Her mother, Julia, was the proud daughter and only child of Augustus. Her father, Agrippa, was the greatest general of his day, and a man of noble character. She had three brothers and one sister. All were smiled upon by Fortune, and all were loved by Augustus and the Roman people. When her father died, Augustus, still living, watchedover her and her family. Her widowed mother then married Tiberius. The entrance of this man into the Julian family was the ominous cloud that first veiled the effulgence of her springtime.
She had married Germanicus, the son of Drusus, and brother of Claudius and Livilla. He was the noblest endowed, both in body and mind, of any Roman of that day. He was a man of handsome appearance, of extraordinary courage, of wonderful oratorical talents, and of powerful influence. Happy in the possession of the love of this best of men, the life of Agrippina was as beautiful and joyous as a perfect day in spring.
Suddenly, in the clear day of her life, her brother Caius was murdered in Lycia. Eighteen months later another brother, Lucius, was murdered in Marseilles. Shortly after, her mother was exiled to the island of Pandataria, and her sister to another island, Trimetus. When her mother left Rome, Tiberius crawled from his vile nest at Rhodes, and braving the insult and opprobrium of the people, came back to the city.
But the terrible disaster which then happened to the legions under Varus in Germany threw the aged emperor into paroxysms of grief and fear. Too old to go in person to the borders of the empire, he despatched Tiberius. The voluntary retreat of the Germans removed the menacethat hung over Italy; but the people suffered the indignity of seeing the standards of the Roman legions fall into the hands of barbarians. Tiberius was then recalled. The old emperor chose him as his heir, in conjunction with Agrippa, Agrippina’s only surviving brother. Some time afterward Agrippa, becoming demented, was sent away in exile. In making his final choice of an heir, Augustus wavered between Tiberius and Germanicus; but that important title was finally bestowed upon Tiberius on account of his years and military experience. Germanicus was forced to become the adopted son of the new heir.
With increasing anxiety Agrippina beheld the gradual extinction of her family. When her brother Lucius fell a victim to the intrigues of the mother of Tiberius, she was distressed, but not dismayed. She was still loved by her aged grandfather, for her noble character and virtuous life. Before the emperor died she had given birth to eight children. The first and second died in infancy. A third, a boy, was so beautiful that his statue, carved in marble, was placed in the Temple of Venus on the Capitoline Hill. In the bedroom of the emperor was placed a similar statue, which Augustus kissed every time he entered the apartment. But this child also died. Of the other five children,—two girls and three boys,—Caligula, the youngest, was three yearsold when Augustus died. Three years after that event, the last child, Julia, was born.
With seeming tranquillity, after the adoption of Tiberius as his heir, Augustus gradually withdrew from the affairs of government. Germanicus was ordered to take command of the legions in Germany, and Agrippina accompanied him. Drusus, the son of Tiberius, was sent to pacify the mutinous legions in Pannonia. The emperor passed the remaining days of his life at Capri, Neapolis, and Nola. In the last-named town he died. Soon after the death of this great man Agrippa was murdered. Two years later Agrippina’s mother was starved to death. Then in the following year Germanicus was poisoned in Syria.
Thus had the life of this noble woman been blasted by the violent deeds of the Claudian family. Thus, one by one, had dried up the fountains that gave her life and courage. Thus was she driven to one solitary comfort, to one refreshing oasis,—the love of her family. For six long years after the death of Germanicus she had guarded her children with jealous care and anxious forebodings.
Amid the legions in Gaul and in the palaces of Syria she had passed with her husband the last years of his life. She had once been gentle, with a sweet disposition and a peaceful face. Thesix years of her widowhood had embittered her life. Her face was now impassive and determined, her eyes piercing and melancholy, her mouth nervous and firm. “The Mother of the Camp,” as the soldiers had honorably addressed her, the proud mother of nine children, and the descendant of a family that had been pronounced divine, would not bow her princely pride before the vulgar and domineering son of Livia. Although nearly crushed by disaster, yet she bravely and imperiously carried herself through all her tribulations.
With her six children she lived in a small house that Germanicus had built near the Temple of Jupiter Victor on the Palatine Hill. Alongside and connected to the house by a crypto-porticus was the sumptuous palace erected by Tiberius. The contrast between the imposing palace of Tiberius and the small house of the daughter of divine ancestors aroused in the Roman people sarcastic criticism.
The house of Germanicus[3]was divided into two parts,—one for the reception of friends and clients, the other for family life. The part where the family lived consisted of two stories. The first story was on a level with the street, which bordered it on three sides. In this storywere the sleeping, dressing, and bath rooms. The servants occupied the story above. These stories were connected to the part where friends were received by a narrow staircase, which opened into the rectangular atrium, sunk considerably below the level of the street. On one of the long sides of the atrium were three halls or rooms; on the other the vestibule, which was the only entrance to the house. The vestibule connected with the crypto-porticus that led to the Palace of Tiberius. On one of the short sides of the atrium was the dining-room; the other was a plain wall. Near it was an altar that held the family gods.
In the largest of the three rooms opposite the vestibule Agrippina was reclining one morning on a richly covered couch. Her son Drusus was seated at her head, on a Syrian rug, which partly covered the mosaic floor. A few days had elapsed since the terrible death of Drusus, the son of the emperor.
The lad Drusus was a graceful lad of fifteen. He had an unhappy face, with dull black eyes, a large mouth, with thick lips. He had just returned from the palace on the Esquiline and had thrown himself near his mother to report what he had seen there.
“Is thy grandmother, Antonia, still at the palace?” asked Agrippina.
“Ay, my mother; Julia has not left her room since her father’s death.”
“Is she ill?” asked the mother.
“Not seriously,” answered Drusus.
“Verily, I must go and see her. And how is thy aunt Livilla?”
“She smiled at me,” replied the youth. “Truly, no one laments my uncle’s death but his daughter Julia. Even thou, O mother, art not sad.”
“Ah, my son, I have suffered and still suffer,” sadly responded the mother. “Nothing but excruciating sorrow can affect one who is constantly beset with grief.”
“Didst thou not like Drusus, my mother?”
“In his death the family of Germanicus suffered a great loss,” replied Agrippina.
“Why, O mother?”
“He loved thy father. He loved thee, thy sisters, and thy brothers. He suffered from the neglect of an unnatural father. Sejanus was his enemy. Beware of that man, my son! Ay,” she continued, as if dreaming, “Drusus loved us, but his love brought with it the hate of Sejanus. Now the minister, in these few days, has become friendly. I repeat it, beware of that man! His words are poison. Hast thou seen the emperor?”
“He will see no one but Sejanus,” replied Drusus.
“What news of Livia?”
“She is resigned. She also will not leave her palace. But when my father died the whole city put on mourning. Now the death of the emperor’s son causes only an extra meeting of the Senate.”
“Thy father was idolized by the people,” said Agrippina, proudly. “Hast thou forgotten the encomium that was pronounced when his body was reduced to ashes? I taught thee the words. Let me hear thee say them.”
The youth thought a moment and then began: “He was as graceful as Alexander the Great; of equally illustrious descent; in years the same; both fell victims to the machinations of their countrymen, in the midst of foreign nations; but Germanicus was gentle towards his friends, moderate in his pleasures; the husband of one wife; his children legitimate. Had he been sole arbiter of his destiny, had he possessed the sovereignty and the title of royalty, he would have surpassed Alexander in military renown as greatly as he surpassed him in clemency, in moderation, and in all other virtues.”
“Thou hast the best memory of all my sons!” said Agrippina, smiling sorrowfully.
“Where will they bury Drusus, my mother?” asked the lad.
“In the mausoleum destined for our remains,”replied Agrippina, “among the ashes of Marcellus, Octavia, my father, Agrippa, thy great-grandfather, the Divine Augustus, my brothers Caius, Lucius, and Agrippa, and thy noble father.”
“Ay, my mother; but Drusus belongs not to the Julian family.”
“As husband to Livilla, my son, his ashes will have that distinction.”
“Although I was but a child of nine,” said Drusus, thoughtfully, “when I went with Nero to meet thee, at Terracina, carrying the ashes of my dear father, yet clearly do I remember that day.”
“’Twas the saddest day of my voyage home,” she sadly replied. “At Brundusium, O my son, the country round about poured forth its people so that the wharves, the buildings, and the temples of that city were black with crowds clad in mourning robes. In that dense throng were friends and relatives, as well as officers and soldiers who had served under thy father in many campaigns. When the bireme that bore thy father’s remains floated into the harbor of that great city, a simultaneous groan arose from that multitude. As I walked from the bireme, carrying the urn that contained the ashes of thy father, and followed by Caligula and the babe Julia, in the arms of her nurse, men wept like women,women like children. The journey from Brundusium to Terracina was one long lament.”
“Ay, mother, I remember to have seen the people throw stones at the temples, in anger that the gods should have permitted that catastrophe.”
“Thine uncle Drusus has been called a stony-hearted man; but when he met me at Terracina he burst into tears,—may the gods grant peace to his spirit! With him were Claudius, Nero, Agrippina, Drusilla, and thyself, O Drusus. As we moved on towards Rome, every temple along the way poured forth clouds of incense. Traffic ceased in the cities, and the people lined the road in one compact mass. A catafalque covered with wreaths and flowers and bearing the silver funeral urn was borne upon the shoulders of tribunes and centurions. At Albanum I was met by the consuls, the Senate, the knights in purple mantles, and the Roman people in black robes. Their sobs and cries rent the air. Never before had such mourning been seen and heard in the streets of Rome.” As she lived over in memory that sad journey to Rome, tears filled her eyes.
“Weep not, O mother,” said Drusus, laying his hand upon hers.
“Ay, but what followed?” said Agrippina, drying her eyes and sitting upright upon the couch. “Did the emperor meet me? Did he pay any respect to those precious ashes? Where wasLivia? The mother of Germanicus, Antonia, was at home, prostrated. But, my son, where was the public funeral that great men deserve? When the father of Germanicus died, Tiberius met his body, and, in the depths of winter, from the snowy mountains he came on foot to the city. At Rome, around the bier of that illustrious man, were the images of the Claudian and Julian families. In the Forum he was mourned. Encomiums were pronounced on the rostra. Every honor that could be conceived was heaped upon him. But thy father, the great Germanicus, had nothing. Except for the moaning of the people, his remains were silently placed beside those of his father and my Divine grandsire.” She paused a few moments and then continued: “Amid those groans could be heard passionate exclamations. People cried: ‘The commonwealth is lost! Henceforth there remains no hope for Rome!’”
“Ay, O mother, despair not; for the sons of Germanicus will sit on the throne of their father’s hopes,” said Drusus, full of enthusiasm.
“But nothing, my son, pierced the heart of Tiberius more than the titles bestowed upon me. Then prayers—”
“Thy children know well those titles, O mother. Do not hesitate to mention them. Of a truth they were right when they called thee‘the ornament of her country, the only blood of Augustus, and an unparalleled example of primitive virtue.’”
“Then prayers,” continued Agrippina, slightly smiling at her son’s loyalty, “were offered in the temples for the preservation of you children, that you might outlive your oppressor.”
“But the emperor loves the children of Germanicus, O mother. Does he not provide for them?”
“Ay, my son, he provides for them, but with the wealth that should be theirs.”
“Does he not pay for the games that Nero gives?”
“Ay— But didst thou not hear a noise?”
“What kind of noise?” asked Drusus, springing to his feet.
“Go into the atrium,” she whispered, affrightened, “and see who has overheard us.”
Drusus rushed into the atrium, and in the room that adjoined the one where his mother reclined, he saw a servant conceal something in the bosom of his tunic.
“What have you hidden there?” demanded Drusus.
“Nothing, my master,” replied the servant, as he hastened away.
“Hold!” cried Agrippina, as she appeared in the atrium. “Move not a step! What ho!Artus, Mano!” she called. When these two servants appeared, she commanded: “Search that servant; he has stolen something.”
In a moment Artus and Mano discovered, hidden in the tunic of the servant, a tablet with a stylus attached to it by a cord.
“Give it me,” said Agrippina. Rapidly glancing at it, she read a portion of her conversation with Drusus. “Ah!” she exclaimed. “Thou art a spy! Beat him and send him into the streets!” she ordered, as she smoothed away the writing on the waxen tablet. There was a struggle as Artus and Mano led the spy up the steps to the servants’ quarters. Shortly after deadened blows were heard, followed by cries and groans.
“Oh that a descendant of the gods should be subjected to such indignity!” exclaimed Agrippina. “Even my words are copied and reported to Tiberius! O son, I have spoken to thee plainly. Thou hast good judgment. Speak not a word of what I have said to thee. Guard well thy words. Weigh each one of them. The walls carry messages, the stones speak in these days of terror.”
The calls of Agrippina and the tumult of the servants had penetrated into the room of Caligula, who was studying with his master. The lad left his instructor and ran downstairs intothe atrium, crying, “What has happened, my mother?”
“Nothing, my child. Go back to thy master. A servant has been corrected.”
“Nothing more?” he asked in a disappointed tone.
“Nothing, Caius,” replied Drusus, smiling.
The little fellow quickly turned, ran up the stairs, and was soon again at work upon his studies.
“Thou always callest him Caius,” said Agrippina.
“Ay, my mother; I like not the other name.”
“Caligula is the name given him by the soldiers,” said the mother.
“Caius pleases me better,” insisted the youth.
“Thy sisters, Agrippina and Drusilla, will then remain for their midday meal in the house of mourning with thy cousin Julia?” inquired Agrippina, as she again reclined upon the couch in the middle room.
“Ay, mother.”
“And Nero, where didst thou leave him?”
“He left me in the Forum.”
“Whither did he go?”
“He went to the camp to see Sejanus.”
“Possibly the games will be postponed now that Drusus is dead,” said Agrippina. “In one year thou, too, my son, wilt reach the manly age. By that time Nero will be wed.”
“Whom will he wed, O mother?”
“The emperor has not made his—”
But she was interrupted by the appearance of Nero, who entered the atrium, and sitting down on his mother’s couch, sadly said, “’Tis over!”
“What has been decided?” asked Agrippina.
“There will be no games,” said Nero.
Nero was the sixteen-year-old son of Agrippina, and was her favorite because he had inherited the manly bearing and the handsome features of his father. His black eyes were bright and quick, and his face was expressive of joy and kindness.
“But I had already told thee that out of respect for thine uncle’s death the games might be prevented,” said Agrippina.
“I had thought they might be postponed,” said Nero, in a disappointed tone.
“Who has told thee?” asked Agrippina.
“Sejanus,” answered Nero. “Instead, gratuities will be given the people.”
“Strive higher, O my son, than to amuse the people,” gently advised Agrippina. “Aim for the greatest distinction that the Roman can bestow,—the triumph. There is no more glorious picture than that of a hero marching with his captives along the Via Sacra towards the Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline Hill. Such honors did thy ancestors enjoy. Be a true descendantof the Divine Julius and the Divine Augustus. Be a true son of thy father.”
“Verily, I will try,” said Nero.
“Dost thou remember thy father’s triumph, O Drusus?”
“Ay, mother. ’Twas a day that I shall never forget.”
“’Twas the seventh day before the calends of June,” said Agrippina. “Caius Coelius and Lucius Pomponius were consuls. In that magnificent procession, led by the Conscript Fathers, there was one spectacle at which the people, carried away by their enthusiasm, kissed their hands and wept tears of joy. For, my children, more splendid than all the gold or silver, ay, more splendid than all the glories of this world, there, borne aloft, were the standards that had been recaptured by the valor of thine august father. Ye were with him on that supremely glorious day. But, my Nero, didst thou learn aught else this morning?”
“Ay; on my way home I went into the Temple of Concord,” replied Nero. “The emperor was there. At last he has broken his silence. Seeing the Consuls, out of respect for the dead Drusus, sitting with the other Senators on the ordinary benches, he upbraided them for lack of dignity.”
“Did he appear sad?” asked Agrippina.
“Nay,” answered the eldest son. “When some Senators shed tears, he censured them. Without a sigh and with his usual hesitation he made an address.—Oh for thy memory, brother Drusus!—His speech was apologetic and yet imperious. I forget the words.”
“My sons,” warned the mother, “be not embittered when ye see the splendid funeral of Drusus. Mark ye, the emperor will make of that a grand display. Silently regard the pageant. Let not thy words reflect thy thoughts during the ceremony.”
“Sejanus angered me this morning,” exclaimed Nero.
“What said he?” asked Agrippina, anxiously.
“He compared the virtues of my father with the vices of Drusus,” explained Nero. “He said that the emperor would try to show that the commonwealth had suffered a greater blow than when my father died. So did he stir me that I cursed—”
“Nay, nay, my son!” cried Agrippina. “Curse no one before that man!”
“I cursed the fates who so wrongfully treat us,” replied Nero.
“Ah, my son,” exclaimed Agrippina, reproachfully, “have a care! Never let thy feelings overcome thy judgment. I warned Drusus but a moment ago to guard his words. Guard thinealso. O my son, enemies lurk on every side. But this morning, while talking with Drusus, we found a servant transcribing on a tablet our conversation. Even in our home we must be guarded in our speech.”
“Thy favorite charioteer has run away, my brother,” said Nero, looking at Drusus.
“Who? Gyges?” quickly asked his brother.
“Ay, Gyges,” replied Nero.
“What has he done?” inquired Drusus.
“I know not. He has been tracked to Albanum,” answered Nero.
“But why should he run away?” asked Drusus. “He was the most honest charioteer in the Circus.”
“Ay. I know not,” said Nero. “He loved the dancing-girl, Psyche.”
“The pretty little Greek?” asked Agrippina.
“Ay; she was to have danced at Pompey’s Theatre,” explained Nero.
“Did he run away with her?” asked Drusus.
“Nay; she is in prison,” said Nero.
“What has she done?” inquired Agrippina.
“No one can say. Where is Caligula?” asked Nero.
“He is at his studies,” replied the mother.
“He asked for a copy of Cicero’s orations,” said Nero. “I have brought him this. What ho! Caligula!” he shouted, as he went to thestairs. “But stay! I am coming up,” he added, when he heard the light patter of Caligula’s sandals on the stairs. As he met Caligula, Agrippina and Drusus heard him say, “Master the language of that great man, my brother, and thou wilt become the best orator in Rome.”
“How happy thy brother is!” said Agrippina to Drusus, rising from her couch. As she walked towards the stairs, she added: “Cultivate a happy nature, my son. ’Twill help thee overcome burdensome grief.”
“Verily, I will try, O best of mothers,” he said as she disappeared.
Left alone, Drusus threw himself on his mother’s couch. The thought of the disappearance of his favorite charioteer was uppermost in his mind. Many times he had sat on the pulvinar before the palace of Augustus, and had watched the horse-races in the Circus Maximus. With youthful enthusiasm he had regarded Gyges as a hero. He had even entered the stables and talked with him. “What will the green faction do without him?” he thought. But his meditations were checked by the entrance of Sejanus.
“Hail, Sejanus!” he said, as he sprang from the couch.
“Hail to thee, O son of Germanicus!” said Sejanus. “Where is thy mother?”
“With Nero,” replied the lad.
“He is thy mother’s favorite son,” said Sejanus, as he watched the face of Drusus.
“Ay; Nero is loved by us all.”
“By thee, too?” asked the minister, craftily trying to sow seeds of envy in the heart of Drusus.
“Ay, by me too! Why not?”
“He loves thee not,” answered Sejanus.
“How knowest thou that?” demanded Drusus.
“He told me but this morning that thou art slow and easily imposed upon,” replied Sejanus, contemptuously.
“Nero said that!” said Drusus, with a cry of surprise.
“Ay; that and more,” continued Sejanus. “But I do not wish to breed enmity between brothers.”
“What more has he said about me?” commanded Drusus, angrily.
“He says thou wilt never be a man,” replied the wily Sejanus.
“And why?” asked Drusus, flushed with anger.
“Be not angry if I tell thee.”
“Nay, O Sejanus.”
“He says thou art advised too much by thy mother.”
“No one seeks her counsel more than he does,” cried Drusus.
“Princes of the blood of the Divine Augustus should receive counsel from statesmen,” slyly suggested the minister.
“I do not agree with thee, Sejanus. The emperor has always been guided by his mother, Livia.”
“True,” said Sejanus, for a moment caught in bad reasoning by the answer of Drusus. He quickly added, “But Nero said other things about thee.”
Before Drusus could reply they were interrupted by a loud knock at the door. A soldier entered. Seeing Sejanus and Drusus, he said in a loud tone, “Nero and Drusus are ordered by the emperor to appear at once in the Temple of Concord.”
“What ho, Nero!” cried Drusus, calling up the stairs. “Come hither immediately!”
A few moments after Nero appeared, followed by Agrippina.
“Hail to thee, O noble Agrippina, and to thee again, O Nero!” said Sejanus, greeting them.
“What message hast thou brought, O Sejanus?” asked Agrippina.
“Thou and I, my brother, are ordered by the emperor to appear immediately in the Temple of Concord. Come, let us go!” said Drusus.
“New honors may befall ye both,” said Sejanus, as the two youths quickly left the room.
“The death of Drusus has created mixed feelings among the people,” continued Sejanus, addressing Agrippina. “Some are sad, others are happy.”
“Truly, no one is glad, O Sejanus?”
“Through the city reports are flying that the Julian family rejoices,” he remarked, with a crafty glance at Agrippina.
“’Tis not true! Drusus was a protector to the Julian family,” challenged Agrippina.
“The heir to the empire a protector to rival claimants!” exclaimed Sejanus.
“Ay; well dost thou know he treated my children as his own,” said Agrippina.
“I know he tried to win the love of the people by his mock protection,” sneered Sejanus.
“Revile not the dead, O Sejanus.”
“Then the Julian family grieves?” he asked.
“The Julian family rejoices not over the grief of others,” she replied, carefully choosing her words.
“Where is thy mourning, O descendant of Augustus?” he inquired. “When Germanicus—peace be to his spirit!—died, the whole city put on mourning. To-day few are clothed in black.”
“Is that fault to be charged against the Julian family?” asked Agrippina.
“Nay,” he replied, vexed at her self-control.Then he added: “The funeral of Drusus will take place two days hence. ’Twill be a gorgeous display. All the effigies of the Julian and Claudian families will be borne in the procession.”
“The effigies of the Julian family are to be carried!” exclaimed Agrippina. “But he had not blood of that family in his veins!”
“Ay; effigies that were forbidden at the funeral of the noble Germanicus are to be borne at the funeral of Drusus,” he declared, rejoicing that he had at last moved her.
“Are those the orders of the emperor?” she asked.
“Ay, O Agrippina,” he replied.
“Then must we be content,” she most diplomatically responded.
“Art thou not enraged to see these symbols so dishonored?” he insisted.
“Nay; the Roman people must be the judges of this act. The lips of Agrippina are sealed.”
“But the thoughts of Agrippina?”
“The thoughts of Agrippina are her own,” replied Agrippina, imperiously.
“Thou speakest not freely, O Agrippina. Surely thou canst trust one who wishes thee and thy family well.”
“I trust no one,” she retorted, looking at him so piercingly that he lowered his eyes. “My house is an ear that gathers our conversationfor a brain that is heated against us. But this morning I found a spy writing down the words I spoke to Drusus. Ah!—but I will say no more.”
“Art thou sure he was a spy?” he inquired.
“Why dostthouask that question?” she bitterly demanded.
“Who could wish to spy upon thee?” he asked in a tone of surprise.
“That is another question, answered before asked,” she retorted.
“Confide in me, O Agrippina,” he said in a tender tone. “I revere the Julian family. Was I not in the service of thy beloved brother Caius? Did I not serve him well? The death of Drusus opens the way for one of thy sons to rule. Nero will now inherit the fortunes of the empire. I will serve him as faithfully as I do the emperor. Fear me not.”
“I do not fear thee, O Sejanus. I trust no one,” she said calmly.
“’Tis no secret that the Julian family dislikes Tiberius,” he ventured.
“’Tis no secret that Tiberius dislikes the Julian family,” she returned.
“Come, O granddaughter of the Divine Augustus, tell me thy complaints.”
“My complaints? I have none.”
“But thou sufferest!”
“I suffer not.”
“Ay, thou art distrustful.”
“But distrust is not always suffering!” she exclaimed. “I lack resolution.”
“Then thou hast fear,” he asserted.
“Nay, nor have I fear, O Sejanus. Distrust has stunted the growth of my faith. Mine eyes are shadowed by anxiety, my life is clouded by doubts, but I do not fear.”
“Then if thou art so brave, I will withhold my warnings.”
“To be distrustful, O Sejanus, hinders me not from being grateful.”
“Thou hast said the emperor dislikes thee,” he said. “I will add that thou art in danger.”
“Ha! the emperor wishes my death also?”
“Then thou accusest the emperor of causing the deaths of thy relatives?”
“I said not so.”
“Thou didst use the word ‘also.’”
“Ay; but well dost thou understand my meaning. I repeat it in other words. Besides the indignities to which my family are already subjected, he also wishes my death?”
“I will say, O Agrippina, that I advise thee to refrain from eating at his table.”
“And then—”
“Good news, O mother!” cried Nero, joyfully, as he rushed into the atrium, followed byDrusus. At the sight of Sejanus Nero checked his enthusiasm.
“What has taken place in the Senate?” asked Agrippina.
“When we entered the Temple of Concord, we were led directly to the emperor,” said Nero. “He took our hands in his and spoke. Repeat his words, Drusus. Thou hast the better memory.”
“He said,” began Drusus, “‘These fatherless youths I committed to my son Drusus to rear and nourish as his own blood, to train them so that they might be worthy of him and of posterity. Now that my son has been snatched from us, I address the same prayers to you, O Conscript Fathers—’”
“Some of the Senators, at these words, burst into tears,” interrupted Nero. “Proceed, brother.”
“He said, still addressing the Senate,” continued Drusus: “‘In the presence of the gods, the face of your country, I conjure you, receive into your protection, take under your tuition, the great-grandchildren of the Divine Augustus,—children descended from ancestors the most glorious in the state; towards them fulfil your own and my duty!’” Drusus delivered these words like a young orator, using graceful gestures, and giving well-marked emphasis to the phrases.
“He added more,” said Nero. “He said tous: ‘Nero and Drusus, to you these Senators stand in the place of fathers. Such are the circumstances of your birth that the good and evil which befalls you must needs extend to the commonwealth.’”
Sejanus listened to the joyful words of Drusus and Nero without comment and then said farewell. As he turned away, he said to Agrippina in an undertone, “The gods sometimes elevate those whom they wish to destroy.”