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" - ,.as�a'ra r :. d"- 3 .tom 334La rfJ Gy . 40 I fit BOOKSTACUS . w + ,5 . ..J. 1 \ .y , _ a ray . . 3 "' , - MESSALINA A ~ ' ro 'r t1 H z (2 z (/2 O SMESSALINA by VIVIAN CROCKETT (With Supplementary Matter) 'V BONI AND LIVERIGHT Publishers :: :: New York M C M X X I V Copyright, 1924, by BoNI & LIVERIGHT, INC. Printed in the United States of America to V : D. PAGE Prelude DAPHNE 13 I MNESTER 59 2 ILAS I 13 3 MYRONIDES 179 4 CLA UDI US 215 Supplementary Matter 263 Messala's daughter, whom the wrathful Jove, Grown envious of delicious wantonness And rule too godlike, hurled in pitiless Despiteful rage, a thunderbolt that clove The imperial Romans. Subtler far, they wove Circean dreams, whose poisonous-sweet excess Lured on her soul to one supreme caress, Death's frozen kiss, in that Lucullan grove. Ah, world of beauty lost! How rare a boon, Upon some Baian villa's colonnade, To watch through Parian pillars, half aswoon, High-beaked galleys plough the harbour's jade; And moon moths drift like antique ghosts and fade Through seas of silver molten from the moon. DAPHNE Daphne BEFORE the sun rose and the shadows were blue in the colonnades those who had come late bargained for places at the amphitheatre, where Caligula was providing a spectacle last- ing many days to celebrate that divinity of his of which he had lately become convinced. From the first hour till noon, it had been announced there would be a beast-hunt, for which the arena would be planted with real trees. Five hundred lions, for which a whole province had been ran- sacked, would be matched with African dwarfs and gigantic Thracians, after which the ground would yawn tigers to devour the exhausted sur- vivors. Therefore the citizen who possessed two sturdy Moesian slaves to fight him a passage to a seat was an object of envy. In the amphitheatre the hunt was over. The sun was scorching the spectators, who rose on the tiers in myriads. They shouted their ap- plause when attendants raised an awning, which transmitted a purple glow, and sprayed saffron [ 131 Messalina from above. As the immense orchestra of trum- pets, horns, flutes, and cymbals, blared with sud- den violence, the envoys from Antioch, who sat among the knights in the second group of tiers, sprang to their feet, alarmed: for the ground was opening, revealing an enormous cavern. "Do not let us seem ridiculous," whispered Chrysippus to the others. "It is part of the spectacle; no earthquake. What nature does stupidly at Antioch men do ingeniously at Rome." In the gloom of the cavern dim shapes were moving. Bolder than the others, a huge tiger dared the light and leapt into the arena. It was followed by scores of animals, which dashed across the sand and flung themselves on their victims. Again the envoys rose, and this time Chrysip- pus did not restrain them. They passed under an arch and along the passage, scarcely noticed by the eyes that were being glutted by the spec- tacle. "The world has heard much of the Roman eagles," said Phocion, the secretary of Chrysip- pus. "The lords of the earth do not distinguish eagles from vultures." X141 Daphne "I desire nothing better than Antioch," an- swered Chrysippus. "I have seen both, and earthquakes are not worse than tigers. Let us find Callistus. The Emperor hears deputations during the games." He beckoned to an attend- ant. "Have it announced to Callistus," he said, holding out a coin, "that the envoys desire an audience with Caesar." The slave bowed and hastened away. From the arena came the shouts of the spec- tators. Some of the wretches on the sand had revived, and were attempting to defend them- selves. The Greeks, nauseated, but aware of curious stirrings of desire, awaited with impa- tience the minister's decision. "Callistus asks you to follow me," said the slave, returning, and led the way to the Imperial box. In the antechamber sat Caligula's secre- tary, whom many regarded as omnipotent. He lifted his thick upper lip in welcome, being tired of raising his arms, on each of which was a gold circlet of four fingers' breadth. The envoys bowed. "You will honour our city, Callistus, if you will plead her cause with the Emperor. The citizens could never forget such a service." :15] Messalina The others hastened to support their spokes- man. "Chrysippus speaks for us," said one of them, "as we hope that Callistus will speak for Antioch." The secretary smiled. "There are more Antiochs than one. Which of them has sent you to Caesar?" "Golden Antioch, Callistus-the third city of the world." "Ah! the golden city of the Orontes. And for an advocate she desires myself? The honour is mine, Chrysippus." "Her citizens esteem you, Callistus. And they beg you to accept a gift which shall recall the epithet awarded to her by the world. They hope that from this cup you will pledge them an ef- fective health. Our gift, Phocion," added Chrysippus, turning to the youth. The latter handed him a jewelled cup, filled to the brim with the golden wine which the subtle Antio- chenes knew to be more potent than that of Dionysus. Callistus received the present with every sign of approval. His manner became suddenly cordial. "I am at your service, citizens. Caligula will hear those whom I recommend. What has af- flicted your city?" L 6 ] Daphne "Her gods have deserted her, Callistus. An earthquake has shaken her walls, and many of her buildings are thrown down. The citizens appealed in vain to Zeus, to Apollo, to Aphro- dite. It was useless. They began to despair. Then it was remembered that Caligula had an- nounced that he was a god. The people had found a new hope. They realized, Callistus, that the gods who had been unable to prevent the ruin of their temples would be powerless to build them again; but they felt no doubt of the power of Caesar. They seek his help, regarding him as the youngest and strongest of the Immor- tals. And they beg that he will send them assis- tance, not merely in repairing the city, but in erecting a shrine for his statue, on which Arche- laus of Rhodes is already engaged." "The Emperor is delighted with the success of the spectacle," answered Callistus. "To-night he will be in high good humour. I shall intro- duce you after the banquet, Chrysippus, and ex- plain the justice of your cause with what elo- quence I may command." He clapped his hands, and on the appearance of a slave signed to the man to remove the cup. "My servant will bring you to me," he said. 1:171 Messalina "I shall expect you at the palace at sunset. Till then I leave you." The envoys bowed, and left the amphitheatre, where slaves were flooding the arena for the naval battle, in which a thousand criminals would man the ships. The spectators testified their delight by vociferous acclama- tions, transporting Caligula, whom his flatterers assured that by the wonders of his games the people were convinced of his divinity. At sunset the imperial palace was worthy of Rome, the Olympus of the nations. Victims had been sacrificed to the genius of the Emperor and the augurs had declared the approval of the older gods. Meanwhile Chrysippus and his companions waited for Callistus. "You have cause for congratulation," he an- nounced, entering the antechamber. "I have se- cured you an erate whose petitions never fail. Mnester will speak for you." Chrysippus was gratified. The fame of the beautiful pantomime had spread farther than to Antioch. From Mnester, the idol of Caligula, now that Apelles, his rival in the tragic dance, was dead, no request was too extravagant to be granted. "He has obtained permission and is about to address the Emperor, who has com- i 1 Daphne manded silence. Follow me. You will stand beside the stage, behind the curtain." They has- tened after him. A hush had fallen upon the crowded banquet- ing hall. The guests, crowned with flowers and reclining on couches, looked expectantly toward the end where Caligula, gorgeously attired in a circlet of emeralds and robes woven with gold, lay beside the Empress. Facing him was a cur- tain suspended between two pillars. Suddenly it fell to the floor, and the Emperor smiled to see Mnester. As a crowned matron, he stood poised with one foot on the shoulder of another actor, who rose out of a river of silk, and pointed to the envoys, who saluted the Caesar. Caligula signified his approval. He recognized the fa- mous emblem of Antioch, seated on the river god. A moment later Mnester sprang to his feet, and the curtain was raised to allow his com- panion to vanish. It fell again, and the music of an orchestra floated softly through the hall. Flutes, cytharas, and lyres breathed out a love song and Mnester appeared in a cloak of silk and wool which clung to his supple figure. At first, like a youth, he wore it as a chlamys and told of love in gestures more eloquent than speech. E 191 Messalina Then in an instant he draped it round him so that it swayed like the robe of a girl. She seemed to answer her lover, clasping her hands as if round his neck, pouting her lips to be kissed, and flung out her arms for an embrace. The guests were delighted. Action could ex- press no more. They whispered among them- selves, some believing that they watched Eros and Psyche, others that Theseus and Ariadne moved before them. Suddenly the cymbals and scabellum burst into discordant clashes. The dancer sprang up on tip-toe, trembling with ter- ror, his eyes wide open. He paused for a mo- ment, listening, and sped swiftly across the stage. He clung desperately to a marble column, ap- pealing to Zeus; and fled as if to seek refuge from falling stones, which he seemed to thrust off as they rained on his head and shoulders. When he recoiled in fear, the spectators knew that sanctuary was denied him, and that the temple was falling where he fled. The cymbals clashed furiously and the flutes screamed in anguish; whereupon the dancer assumed other characters, portraying men and women who rushed frenziedly past. At length he vanished for an instant, reappearing to express despair in [ 20 J Daphne movements of hands and body that equalled the message of his eyes. The music died away, and Mnester became motionless. Raising his arms to heaven he invoked in turn the Twelve Gods, and twelve times his gestures of despair brought tears to the Emperor's eyes. Now he sank on the ground and the flutes wailed drearily; but, his face shining'suddenly as if with a new hope, he sprang to his feet, his hands stirred as though to thrust away the helpless gods of the skies and with eager eyes he flung himself at the feet of Caligula, his arms outstretched in worship and appeal. Shouts of applause broke from the guests. Callistus, watching the Emperor's face, smiled in satisfaction: it was a subtle stroke, by which Caligula's two weaknesses were assailed; his passion for dancing, which he practised assidu- ously, and his conviction of divinity and omnipo- tence. The acclamations gave way to a silence of ex- pectation, as the actor maintained his attitude of appeal. In tones which he intended to be ma- jestic Caesar declared his will. "I desire that men regain their faith in the Immortals. Your prayer is granted, my wonder- 212 ] Messalina ful Mnester, and Antioch is restored. Is he not matchless, Messala?" added Caligula, turning to a senator who reclined beside him. "Mnester makes distress beautiful, Caesar. I longed to succour those citizens he showed us." "The opportunity is yours, Messala. I appoint you with Crispus to investigate the condition of the city and devise measures of relief." "Thanks, Caesar. The task will be a pleasant one. I shall remember Mnester and love An- tioch." "Do so, Messala. Mnester, you have earned this cup," added Caligula, handing him the carved rock-crystal from which he had been drinking. "Caesar is more than generous," replied the actor. "For a dancer, to please the eye of such an artist is sufficient reward." Caligula wiped his hands on Mnester's curls, kissed his gilded lips, and drank in a goblet of wine the gold which remained upon his own. The banquet continued. At Callistus' orders places were allotted to the envoys, who had been presented to Caesar and allowed to kiss his hand out of honour to Mnester's pleading; for ordi- narily now the divine foot bestowed felicity. [ 22 J Daphne Chrysippus found himself at the end of a couch which twined round two tables each of a single piece of precious citrus-wood. Phocion faced him from the other end, and next to him reclined Lepida, the wife of Messala. They spoke of the games, Lepida declaring her passion for the cir- cus. Chrysippus told her of the hippodrome at Antioch, which rivalled that of the metropolis for splendour, recounting the feats of the Span- ish horses brought thither at enormous expense to increase the fleetness of the native breed. "I will show you," said Lepida, "a tiny statue of Tigris, on whom I won a hundred thousand sesterces. I have vowed it to Epona, whom the charioteers invoke." She signed to a slave, and bade him find her maid. "His colours are green," she continued, "which fortunately the Emperor affects." At this moment Phocion, who had listened with slight interest, rose on his elbow. The maid had entered and Lepida was speaking to her. "Take a guard with you, Doricha, and bring me the statue of Tigris. And see that you waste no time in flirting." "If I were the guard," murmured Phocion to himself, "Chrysippus would grow tired of wait- S23 1 Messalina ing to See Tigris." His eyes followed the girl till she disappeared through the doorway. "Doricha is like all the Antiochenes," said Lepida. "She is the slave of Eros." "She is no Greek, surely," answered Chrysip- pus. "Her father was a Syrian incense merchant. Her mother was a Greek, whom he chanced to meet one night in the grove of Daphne." "Daphne explains the rest," said Chrysippus, laughing. "Under the Syrian moon the place would melt the heart of a vestal." Phocion listened eagerly, and relieved his im- patience by trying to read his fortune in the bubbles of his wine. When Doricha returned, she held in her arms a small statue of Tigris, the body carved in ivory, the tail and mane in beaten gold. "An admirable piece of work," said Chrysip- pus, examining the statue. Phocion preferred to look at Doricha, whose bare and rounded arms were no darker than the ivory. Her hair had the brown of an autumn leaf and her eyes sparkled with the blue of the sea. As she turned them toward him, Phocion, who in love was [ 24 1 Daphne superstitious, emptied a little of his wine on the floor, and glanced up again. At first Doricha saw nothing but the look of masculine admira- tion to which she was accustomed. But his face, being Greek, aroused her sympathy, so that she regarded him, from time to time, more intently, thinking vaguely that he might be capable of love. She turned her eyes away as Lepida's voice recalled her. "Take it back, Doricha. Let no one jostle you in the streets." The girl moved away, and Pho- cion was half minded to call to her softly, afraid that he might not see her again. But he judged it better to refrain and to think of other means. Passing his couch Doricha looked at him for an instant. He called a slave, holding up his gob- let. "Wine, my lord? There is every kind-Fal- ernian, Chian, Rxatian, Massilian." "Listen," whispered Phocion. "The girl who has just gone out, holding a statuette-who is she?" "Her name is Doricha," answered the man. "Yes, yes," said Phocion impatiently, "but in whose household is Doricha?" E 25 Messalina "She is the hairdresser of Lepida, the wife of Messala." "Of Messala !" Phocion could scarcely be- lieve his good fortune. "Give me some wine of Chios," he said. "I will make a libation to Aphrodite. I am her favoured one," he mur- mured, as he poured a little on the mosaic floor. "If Messala go with us to Antioch, Lepida will keep him company. Be propitious, dear god- dess," he whispered, "and I will grace your tem- ple with an ivory statue of one more lovely than Tigris, one on whose shoulders your doves must surely light." Phocion, unobserved, emptied his goblet on the pavement. In this way Phocion and Doricha came to the beautiful city of Antiochus. Messala and Crispus had given audience to deputations and inspected the ruins. At the chariot races they had shared the frenzy of the people, and lost and won on the chances of the colours. And the more deputations for aid and festivals in honour of the senators, the greater the happiness of Doricha and Phocion, since Messala stayed longer in Antioch. Many times at night Doricha had slipped past the centurion E 26 1 Daphne on guard at the gate, and had hastened to a char- iot that waited in a certain street. She had shown Rufinus an emerald ring which she had taken from Lepida's jewel-case, and, believing that she went on some errand of her mistress, he had asked no question, knowing the temper of Mes- sala's wife. Doricha had flirted often. The weariness of life demanded that. Even Lepida, free to enjoy all the distractions that Rome provided for wealth and rank, sometimes found the tedium of her life insupportable, and received the ad- dresses of handsome Moorish charioteers or even of a muscular gladiator. Besides, it was expected of Doricha. But she carried in her heart the hot passion of that Syrian night which had seduced her mother. Phocion's heart, throbbing against her own, had stirred it into love, which for the first time made her cling passionately to life. To-night Phocion's chariot would be waiting. Therefore Doricha's footstep was light and she was high with hope. She had not begun to re- flect on her love, and on how the world would hinder and destroy it; but she believed that the gods must be jealous, if they could perceive the joy in her heart. C 27 J Messalina The sun had been gone an hour when Doricha went softly to Lepida's dressing-room. Each night some new festivity demanded the attend- ance of Messala and his wife. A light through the curtain made her pause. Drawing near cau- tiously she looked into the room, clenching her small hands in vexation as she perceived Valeria Messalina, radiant with delight, decking herself with her mother's jewels. The child twisted a rope of pearls round her throat and clasped two golden armlets above her elbows. She stood be- fore a long mirror, smiling and talking softly to herself. Like Lepida's, her hair had the colour of pale gold and her eyes were green. Remembering that Valeria was, like herself, forbidden to open the jewel-case, Doricha moved a tripod along the floor. The child glanced at the curtains, and tearing off the ornaments threw them back and fled. Doricha darted into the room, and waiting only to take the ring, hurried away. Valeria, concealed beyond an archway in the shadow cast by a statue, saw her and fol- lowed, pausing only to snatch a mantle from the back of a chair. Many of the slaves being ab- sent with Messala, Doricha passed unquestioned to a small gate which gave on a side street. Here [28J Daphne Rufinus stopped her, but at the sight of the ring, decided to let her pass. "A kiss first!" he said, and seized the girl in his arms like the boughs of an oak. Doricha dared not repulse him;.besides, if allowed to levy such a toll, Rufinus would unaware assist her. He kissed her gently, and then with fierceness. "You are always in haste, my Doricha," he continued. "Time was when you would linger a little to cheer the heart of an unloved soldier." "I must hasten, Rufinus," whispered the girl. "If I am late in returning, Lepida will be displeased." "Displeased, my little pigeon?" he returned, twining his rough fingers in her hair. "The password is furious. She has the temper of a starved tigress. What is it now: a charioteer, or an athlete turned astrologer?" He took another kiss, and drawing a huge key from his belt turned the lock of the gate. Dor- icha slipped through, and Rufinus watched her walk down the street, disappearing in the dark- ness. Valeria, waiting behind him, had decided how she might tame Cerberus. She touched his arnm. "Be careful of the starved tigress," she said, [ 29 J Messalina simulating a ferocious stare, which she found was not difficult. The soldier fell back in con- fusion. "Stand aside, Rufinus !" she added, and walked past him, holding her head high. He locked the gate, cursing to himself. Once in the street the child ran at her swiftest after Doricha. At the end of it she could see nothing, as neither street was lighed. But far- ther down a lamp burned brightly at the door of a wine-shop, and beneath it she saw a woman hurry past. She followed instantly, and at the next corner came upon Doricha, whom she kept in sight. They came into wider streets, and finally into the great road which divided the city. For Antioch was a cosmopolis. Even in fabu- lously distant China the venturous merchants whose caravans, laden with the glass, carpets, and paper of Alexandria, toiled over Persia and India to Hanoi, had told of its four walled towns all within a wall, and of the marvellous clock whose golden ball told the passage of the hours. They passed through the Greek city, which was the most beautiful. The moon was rising, but there they did not need its light, for the great street was illumined by lamps suspended in the S30 J Daphne colonnades which lined it. At intervals semi- circular recesses enclosed fountains or statues or gave entrance to public buildings. They turned into a narrower road, paved with closely-fitting limestone blocks bound together by continuous strips of basalt. Valeria observed that though formerly passers-by moved in all directions, the stream of traffic now ran one way only. Chariots passed at intervals, filled with men and women who laughed and sang, or cried out pleasantries to others. Valeria, who had felt tired, forgot her weariness in the interest of the scene. She learned the name of the suburb from the shout of a merry reveller who drove by in his chariot. "Stay not here in Heraclea, citizens!" he cried to the pedestrians. "Follow me to Daphne." Valeria felt a tremor of excitement. At Alex- andria she had been rowed along the canal to Canopus, a loadstone that drew pleasure-seekers from every part of the Empire, and had won- dered at the innumerable barges crowded with dancing girls and flute-players. She had wished to stay at the pleasure-palaces, to be counted by scores along either bank, where the sightseer found Elysium realized in many ways, ac- E 31: Messalina cording to his desire. Yet all denied that Cano- pus could rival the groves of Daphne. She has- tened on, keeping the figure of Doricha just in sight. An hour nao passea wnen they came to the end of the houses. The road was now lined with oaks, and fell gradually to a lower level. Valeria, following Doricha through the trees, cried out in delight. Two low hills rose from the horizon, and on one of them the golden moon of Syria seemed to rest. It illumined the para- dise which the architects of Antiochus had de- vised, and to which the passage of time had given the appearance of nature. In a thousand lakes and streams Astarte's face was transmuted into silver. Groves of laurel and cypress sheltered the crocus, which flamed through springy turf on the banks of brook and pool, and ivy and the vine extended their tendrils along the oak boughs. Treading lightly where violets sprang between the acanthus leaves, Valeria climbed over an arching bridge, whose circle completed itself in the water, and entered a portico which threaded the dark mass of a cedar wood. The air, balmy with the perfume of unnumbered flowers, di- S32 J Daphne lated the child's nostrils, carrying a subtle intoxi- cation to her senses. She paused by a grotto into which a stream was led through tunnels in the hills. Watching the sword-lilies swaying in the pool, she half-closed her eyes, persuading her- self that she would see the lithe forms of naiads fade into the gloom; but wandering, regretful, to a temple of IEsculapius, she consoled herself with the fancy that the white figures of men, bathing where a rivulet broadened into a marble basin, were the desirable bodies of fauns. For she felt the stirring of a vague voluptuousness, and a desire that was half a mystery. Though she was twelve years old, she lived secluded from men, and Antistia, her nurse, had told her only of the loves of woodland creatures; but this was because Valeria's body was ripening faster than was usual. Through boughs outlined with silver came the occasional twitters of birds. Peacocks among the lilies on the banks displayed to the moon harmonies of gold and blue. Valeria, wondering if the tales of the poets were true, followed an alley which wound among the cedar trunks. She stopped, trem- bling, before two white forms interlocked on the E33J Messalina flowery turf; remembering, palpitant with de- light, Faunus and the nymphs, Daphnis and Chloe. But Daphnis, rising suddenly and hoarsely menacing, put her to flight. Neverthe- less she half believed that on one of the tiny islands she might stumble on the lotos eaters or see the panthers of Circe; and already, like the men of Odysseus, she had forgotten what brought her to Daphne. With a shock of recollection she came sud- denly upon Doricha, held in Phocion's arms. They spoke in murmurs, till the girl lifted her face to her lover, when they ceased to speak al- together. Then Phocion, tightening his arms, covered her face and throat with kisses so fierce that Valeria was frightened, though not unpleas- antly; and she felt a sympathetic languor in her body when Doricha drooped suddenly and would have fallen if Phocion had not crushed her against him. But Doricha, who seemed to have swooned, slid gently to the ground, which just there was as soft as the down of Egyptian couches; and when Phocion flung himself down beside her ,Valeria saw other things, and after a while with- E 34 Daphne drew noiselessly, wondering still, though not so much. She started at the sound of a voice at her side. Turning hastily, she saw a young Antiochene. "Lais !" he called softly, "Lais." "I am not Lais," she answered confusedly. "You do not know me." "Six hundred pardons!" he replied, smiling; "I thought you were Lais, of Heraclea." Valeria thought that this was impossible; but the youth was charming, and spoke in perfect Latin. "If you are not Lais," he continued, "I am companionless. There is nothing for a lonely man at Daphne. Unless you speak to me I shall be miserable. But I divine that I prevent you from meeting some one more fortunate than myself." Valeria did not answer. "I am Lysias of Antioch. Will you tell me your name?" "I am called Valeria," she replied. "Valeria," he repeated. "You were called Valeria because you must have a beautiful name. Valeria, will you let me wander with you E 35 1 Messalina through Daphne? To walk here alone is to anger the gods." Now at the words of Lysias a strange exulta- tion rose in her breast, bringing with it fear and hope and other vaguer feelings. Her heart throbbed, and a slight shiver passed over her body. But still she did not answer "You are so charming, Valeria, and the night is perfect. No one walks alone in Daphne." She could think of no reply, in part from dif- fidence; but she let him take her hand. "Be as charming as you look, Valeria, and let me row you out on one of these lakes. Come with me and I will show you the procession of the Persian Artemis which will pass shortly." He drew her gently toward him and she let him lead her away. She felt that she had come to a riddle more fascinating and mysterious than that of the Sphinx. They wandered down to the side of a winding narrow lake, and, begging her to wait for an instant, Lysias ran swiftly along the bank, vanishing behind some trees. She heard him talking with a man and in a few mo- ments a tiny barge glided toward her. Lysias leapt ashore to lift her aboard. Near the bows a carpet was spread upon the deck, and on it they E 36]J Daphne seated themselves, leaning on cushions. At a sign from Lysias the boatman in the stern drew the little vessel out from the shore and began to row slowly Lysias talked to Valeria as no one had done before. It pleased her to be spoken to as if she were a woman, and to hear her beauty praised. She scarcely answered. The world seemed too wonderful for speech. She sat dreaming, her hand held by the youth. "We are coming to the shrine, Valeria." "Whose temple did you say it was, Lysias? I scarcely heard you." "Of the Persian Artemis. It holds a statue of the goddess by Mentor, a masterpiece. Will you come ashore with me and watch the ceremo- nies ?" Valeria assented, and at Lysias' order the boat was brought against the bank. He lifted her from the cushions, holding her in his arms for a moment. She felt a thrill of half-fearful pleas- ure. They climbed the bank and walked through a level oak wood to a circular space, on which no trees grew. At the centre rose a small temple of Artemis. Through the domed roof. which was [37 Messalina made of translucent marble, and supported by twelve Ionic columns, a milky radiance de- scended to bathe the image of the goddess. In the van of the worshippers, who came in the di- rection of the city along a turfy glade, walked a dark-haired girl, naked except for a fawn-skin draped over one shoulder. Round the other was curled a silver horn, on which she blew faint calls, and she carried a bow and a shield. Be- hind her the priestesses of Artemis, bearing long spears, led a deer half-hidden under its burden of garlands. Valeria, feeling a voluptuous languor steal- ing over her as the music of lyres and flutes coiled through her ears, seducing her body into vague but rhythmic movements, leaned against Lysias. So slowly that she felt no alarm, he wound his right arm about her. She thought suddenly of Lepida, of her father, of old An- tistia; but they seemed to be like those figures which came sometimes to her couch while she slept and which, though infinitely alluring, An- tistia had told her were insubstantial. For she shivered now in the mood that accompanied such visitations, and began to dupe herself-which was easy in the moonlit paradise while for the [38J Daphne first time a youth held her in his arms-with the fancy that she had never been awake before and that it was Messala's household which was un- real. "The rites were formerly celebrated by cour- tesans," said Lysias, speaking low. "But the women of Antioch have usurped the privilege, which they will never give up." Valeria fol- lowed his glance to the procession of devotees, who were half-draped in silk robes of the colour of a peacock's neck. They had begun to sway their bodies, and the arms of each were locked in those of the women on either side. The moon, which was now higher in the sky, threw a silver sheen on their draperies, and an alabaster glow on their uncovered breasts. Some, who had brought grapes and fruits, and others who car- ried flowers, the special dower of Antioch, heaped their gifts on the altar. "Why does the girl carry a bow?" asked Va- leria. "It is the attribute of Artemis, who is a virgin like the girl who holds it," Lysias an- swered. "But the courtesans, who ridicule vir- ginity, have profaned the ritual. They cele- brated the Persian Artemis, and we shall see the E 39 J Messalina spear of an unknown god overcome the bow and pierce the shield." At this moment the torchbearers, who had gone deep into the woods, returned, escorting seven hags dressed in black robes. "They are Syrian sorceresses," Lysias whis- pered, trying to draw Valeria away. But now, panting to share sensations the desire for which, she guessed, was changing the women of An- tioch into ardent bacchantes, she refused to go, and held tightly to Lysias. Those who carried torches thrust them into sconces high up on the columns of the temple, so that a ruddy glare filtered through the marble dome. The priestesses, having led the deer to the altar, pierced the victim with their spears; and on the moonlit lawn the swaying devotees disposed themselves in a circle round the sor- ceresses, who had fallen to the ground. "Let us go," whispered Lysias; but Valeria drew him to the top of a tiny knoll, from which they could see clearly the seven hags surround- ing the dedicated virgin. To the sound of flutes succeeded the disturbing music of drums beaten faintly and muffled trumpet blasts. The sorcer- esses contorted their bodies, and the chief priest- E 40 1 Daphne ess pointed her spear at the black-locked virgin, who strung her bow and shot an arrow into the wood. Certain of the devotees, ureaking from the others, threw themselves upon the archer and tore from her the silver horn, the bow, and the fawn-skin. She fell on her knees, shuddering; and Valeria pressed closer to Lysias. The chief priestess, levelling her spear at the virgin, touched her gently with the point; where- upon the girl, rising slowly to her feet, began to dance with the air of a sleep-walker. Intoxi- cated by the subdued barbaric music, the de- votees swayed their linked bodies with increas- ing energy. An undulation passed and reversed itself through them, so that they created the sem- blance of a writhing giant serpent. The dancer moved faster. Suddenly, as if powerful arms had seized her, her hands fell to her sides, her head drooped backward, and she began to whirl about the circular space. A cry of jubilation broke from the worshippers, who bounded wildly as the trumpets blew a deafen- ing blast. "The god!" Lysias exclaimed in superstitious E41 J Messalina dread. "Come away, Valeria; we should not watch, we are not initiates." "There are others like ourselves hidden among the trees," she answered, and seized his hands. She felt the infection of the devotees' ectsasy, and her will was inflexible. "Look," she whispered, "the sorceresses are convulsed and frenzied, and the girl dances as if something crushed her in its arms. What is it, Lysias?" "That is impossible," he answered, drawing a charm from a fold of his tunic. "All the philos- ophers deny that chimaeras exist." "She struggles," cried the child. "It bends her backward, and her arms are held behind her." "She is bewitched, that is all," Lysias replied, speaking as if he were afraid of being overheard. "She thinks that something desires to embrace her, because the sorceresses have told her so." Valeria had ceased to listen: her eyes moved between the red tip of the priestess's spear and the lithe body of the girl, who writhed and panted as if she wrestled with a cruel antagonist. The priestess, exchanging the spear for a thong, scourged her lightly; and sinking to the ground E 42 J Daphne she fell backward, her hands beating the air, her white knees pressed together. A sharp cry came from her parted lips, to be lost in the wail of flutes, rising, lascivious and languid, above the lyres' voluptuous throbs. A shiver, passing through the silent devotees, seemed to communicate itself to the child. She pressed her body against Lysias, who crushed her in his arms and kissed her mouth. Her shoul- ders drooped, forcing her breath through her lips, and with a confused image of Doricha be- fore her eyes she slid to the green carpet of the wood. Seizing the dancer's horn a girl sounded a blast that roused the celebrants from their rev- erie. It was answered by a thunder of hoofs, and in the distance torches appeared among the trees. Out of a thicket burst a troop of horse- men, and the half-draped devotees, leaping each into the arms of a lover, fled to certain deep recesses of the cedar groves. Valeria, however, stayed in the oak wood, lying silent in the clasp of Lysias. Though her eyes were closed she saw many curious images, among them those of spears, scourges, and lithe bodies white against paradisial arbours. All E 43 Messalina these mingled pleasurably in her imagination as she lay crushed against the youth whose arms were so strong and whose perfumed hair was so pleasant to caress. When an hour had passed Lysias rose and lifted Valeria in his arms, for she was disinclined to move. He carried her to the entrance of a portico, and along this they walked to a waiting chariot. He took the reins from the driver, and Valeria, seated on a cushion, wound her arms about his knees. In this way they rode back to the city, and at a corner of the street of colon- nades the girl alighted. "To-morrow there will be no worship of the Persian Artemis," whispered Lysias, "but the rites of Aphrodite are performed each night at Daphne. It would be unlucky to neglect them now." "You may wait for me here, as soon as it is dark," she answered, and ran toward the palace of Messala. At the gate she found Rufinus still on guard. She suspected that, if it had not been for Dor- icha, he would have deputed this duty to a sub- ordinate. L44 Daphne Rufinus opened the gate. "What if I told Lepida?" he suggested surlily. "That you said she had the temper of a starved tigress." Valeria gave him a glance of disdain, and as soon as she had passed Rufinus cursed her heartily to himself for the tigerish cub of a tig- erish mother. Messala's party had not returned, and Valeria reached her couch unobserved. She had hoped to dream of Lysias and of Daphne; but sleep refused to close her eyelids. She found the silence intolerable, and, begin- ning to think of Doricha, reflected that the girl might not have reached the palace. She was about to rise from her couch when a shuffling footstep warned her to lie down and pretend to be asleep. It was Antistia, and Valeria knew that the old woman desired to see whether her charge were safe in slumber. Antistia waited only to peer through the curtains before she went back to drink her wine with the cooks in the slaves' hall below. The child stole from her couch, and wrapping herself in a loose tunic crept down the marble stairway leading to the court. Rufinus was still there, talking to several of his men. She was beginning to feel impatient when she heard a E 45 J Messalina knock at the gate. Rufinus signed to the soldiers to leave him, and turned the lock. It was Dor- icha. She was hurrying past when he seized her roughly by the arm, and Valeria held her breath, for the man seemed to be angry. She listened. "What errand is this that takes you out at night?" he demanded. "I have been here three hours, waiting for you." Doricha tried vainly to free herself. "I did not ask you to wait for me, Rufinus. Let me pass," she added resentfully. "Not yet, Doricha. Tell me this-does Le- pida's business detain you for three hours of the night? Or does some errand of your own take you out? By Jupiter, if I found you with an- other-" He rattled his sword threateningly, tightening his grip on her arm. "Rufinus loves her and is jealous," thought Valeria. "Let me go," whispered the girl, "you are crushing my arm." "I can set a watch on you, and by all the gods, if it is a man you go to meet-" "You are absurd, Rufinus," Doricha answered, forcing herself to smile. "Kiss me: there, now E 46 J Daphne I can swear by all the gods I have asked that of no man but yourself." And Doricha, escap- ing from the centurion, ran away laughing, be, cause it pleased her to think that it was unneces sary for her to ask to be kissed. Valeria waited for no more, but fled up the steps. The cocks were crowing as she fell asleep. In her dreams she saw Rufinus, carrying a long spear, which he waved threateningly at Doricha. But Doricha fled into a cedar grove, and Rufinus hurled the spear at Valeria, who smiled as Ly- sias drew it out of the wound. The sun had the appearance of a golden ball, and Valeria wished that she might seize it and fling it beyond the horizon, for then the night would come. She thought that the roar of the hippodrome was foolish: for she fretted for the enchanted silence of Daphne, which men had created so that they might anticipate the pleas- ures of Elysium. When darkness had come and she had seen Messala and Lepida depart in their litters she told Antistia that she was tired and longed for sleep. So the old woman undressed her and ex- tinguished all the lamps but one afterward seek- C47 J Messalina ing her favourite nook in the kitchen. She had scarcely left the room when the child sprang up and flung on her clothes. As she descended the steps she saw Doricha kiss Rufinus and pass through the gateway. A tempting thought formed itself in her mind; and Valeria did not resist it. Messala would leave Antioch, and Rufinus might never learn that he had aided Doricha to meet another lover. Besides, it would be better to bribe the centurion than to threaten him with Lepida's anger, which indeed would be turned upon herself. She reached the gate, and the soldier, seeing her, stood before it with folded arms. "There are doors at the palace front," he said. "If you will open this gate, Rufinus," she re- plied, "I shall tell you where you may find Doricha, and perhaps another." Rufinus, forgetting his calm, pulled his sword half out of its sheath. Valeria regarded it, shiv- ering a little. "Who is the other ?" he demanded. "That you may see for yourself. At what time will your watch be over?" "At the ninth hour," he answered, fingering the sword-handle. E 48 J Daphne "Then at the ninth hour search in the cedar grove at the left of the road, a stadium from the end of the avenue of Daphne." Rufinus opened the gate, and Valeria hastened to the corner of the Street of Colonnades. Lysias leapt from his chariot and sprang to greet her, his eyes alight. "I was afraid that you had forgotten me," he cried. "See, I have made the journey easy for you." He pointed to a heap of cushions against the side of the chariot. "Thanks, Lysias," she answered, smiling, "yet the road is quite smooth." He placed her on the cushions, standing close to her to prevent her from being thrown out. The horses leapt forward, their hoofs clattering loudly on the limestone blocks. Valeria's heart leapt with them, and it was easy for Lysias to persuade her to twine one white arm about him, for the sake of safety. They smiled into each other's eyes. "From the palace roof at sunset I fancied I could hear your voice through all the roaring of the hippodrome, Lysias." He looked at her with new interest. "From the palace roof?" he said, questioningly. E 49 1 Messalina She felt vexed at her unguarded words. Ly- sias, observing it, turned to another subject. "Africanus was beaten, Valeria, and I lost a thousand sesterces. They are racing him too much. Yet I took a loss as an omen of luck to follow. When Fortuna fails us, Venus often seizes the opportunity to make herself seem more desirable. So I vowed her flowers and incense, and now you see I am driving you to Daphne." The peaks of a cypress avenue could already be discerned, for in the eastern sky a delicate glow was spreading above the horizon. They sped through the fields beyond the city, and Va- leria fancied that the spirit of the place had be- gun to lay an enchantment upon her. The char- iot left the road and rolled across the springy turf to an enormous oak, where a slave whom Lysias had sent before them sprang out and held the horses' heads. They alighted, and hand in hand wandered down a flowery slope to the water. The barge was awaiting them, and when Lysias had lifted Valeria aboard they glided over the winding lake. They lay on the prow leaning over the side, watching the moon rise apparently among the water-lilies. A black galley, built in the shape of a swan, E 50 J Daphne appeared like a shadow in a silver mirror. Its deck was crowded with revellers, one of whom sang ardently while a woman plucked the strings of a lyre. "He is singing of love," Lysias whispered. "Have you ever loved, Valeria?" She did not answer, for she could hear in the stranger's deeper voice a note that was absent from that of Lysias. "Have you ever loved?" the youth repeated. She nodded in denial. Moving closer to her Lysias kissed her neck, which gleamed in the moonlight. "Then love now, Valeria," he whispered. She raised her head, and the fire burning in his eyes made her afraid, though not unpleasantly. "I have dreamed about Eros," she answered. "Then let us go into the woods, and you can dream of him among the violets under the oak trees." He signed to the boatman, who headed the barge to the shore. Lysias lifted the girl from the deck and car- ried her up the fragrant bank. Putting her gently down he placed her head on his arm, which his tunic left uncovered, and lay beside her. He began to play with her hair and to kiss IN1VERSITY OF LLNOIS LIBRARY Messalina her on her mouth, in the curve of her soft throat, and on one shoulder that had slipped out of her robe of lilac-coloured silk. His caresses made her body shiver with strange and delicious sen- sations, and so that her voice should not betray her eagerness she did not speak. When the moon's rim appeared above one of the oak boughs she had ceased to wonder about Doricha and Phocion; but suddenly she remembered Rufinus. "I had forgotten something," she said. "Is it the third hour yet, do you think, Lysias?" "By the moon it must be, Valeria, though the time has passed too quickly." "Lysias," she said, laying her hand on his arm, "there is some one I must speak with, for a mo- ment only. Will you wait for me?" She was surprised by the anger in his glance. "You would wish me to wait while you meet another?" he said, drawing in his breath. Valeria, who knew little of lovers, had not thought of such a construction. "But it is not a man," she whispered. "It is a woman, Lysias-I do not lie to you." "Whom must you see at Daphne?" he de- manded. E 52 J Daphne "I cannot tell you, Lysias. But it is a woman. Will you wait for me?" He nodded sulkily. Smiling at him for his suspicion, she ran up the little glade toward the road. Lysias hesitated for an instant, but his jealousy being irresistible, he followed, keeping Valeria in sight. At first she could not see Doricha, but walking cautiously down the grove where they had met before, she heard voices, and peering between the thick oak-trunks, perceived Phocion, whose arms were round Doricha. "Oh, but it is hopeless," said the girl faintly. "Soon Messala will leave Antioch. Perhaps tomorrow, and oh! Phocion-I cannot endure it." "Nor I," he answered. "To part now would be more bitter than death." "There is no hope for us-except in death." Phocion wound his arms about her head, kiss- ing her ardently. "If there were no other way," he whispered, "we should look for one in death. But I will not let them take you." "Dear Phocion, love is for the free, and the gods take no account of a slave." C53J Messalina "I shall purchase your freedom," said Phocion eagerly. "Without you, of what use is my own?" Doricha shook her head sadly. "You are generous, dearest Phocion, but Le- pida is not poor. She loves her yellow hair bet- ter than the slave who dresses it." "But I shall tempt her, Doricha. I shall sell an estate, and offer her such a sum as will pay her gaming debts for a year. She will not be proof against such a temptation." The girl wound her arms about his neck. "If you love me, Phocion, save me from part- ing, and slavery." Valeria, who had perceived a shadow on the grass, started as she saw it move. She grew rigid with terror; she would have cried out, but the swift intuition of tragedy imminent through her own act deprived her of speech. From the gloom behind Phocion emerged a form made horrible by its vagueness. But her eyes, catch- ing the gleam of steel, stared in recognition of its meaning. With a dreadful flash the sword of Rufinus plunged down between Phocion's shoulders. From Doricha's lips came a gasp more ago- I 54 Daphne nized than a shriek, sharp like Rufinus' sword. She flung herself on Phocion's shuddering body, calling him wildly, kissing his silent lips. Valeria turned and ran swiftly down the glade, where red poppies lay unpetalled in the grass. Behind her Lysias, who had seen Pho- cion fall and guessed at the reason, ran desper- ately to stop her, afraid of the oaks' twisted knees and the streams that flowed on every side. She heard the thud of his footsteps, and shrieked in terror. With a choking cry she fell headlong over a projecting root, and lay fainting in the cradling grass. When she awoke from her swoon Lysias was bathing her temples, supporting her head with his arm. She tried to rise, still impelled to fly, but the youth held her tightly, and she ceased to struggle, for his strength gave her pleasure. Astarte, climbing her star-grown pathway, looked down on Daphne. No shadow crossed her unrevealing face as she peered into the ar- bour on the hill-side, where Doricha clasped dead Phocion, and surveyed the poppied bank where Valeria lay warm in the clasp of Lysias. Valeria's face, equally tranquil, was pressed S55 Messalina against the youth's. ] many curious images, of swords, spears, and lithe and graceful, in she grew languid with In her closed eyes were among which were those scourges, and of bodies, paradisial arbours: and a divine voluptuousness. C 56] MNESTER Mn ester PEACE was the mood of Antium, as excite- ment was the spirit of Rome. The year at Baias was an unending festa, more exhausting than the capital: but at Antium the Mediterra- nean invited to tranquillity and dreams. Two tinted cliffs stood in the sea at Antium, and in the still water at their feet the colonnades which crowned their brows were transformed into temples swallowed up by the waves. Be- tween them lay the grotto that Caligula had loved so well. Messalina, who had come from the villa on the headland by the tunnel which opened on to the tiny and secret harbour, re- called the pleasures she had enjoyed there be- fore the Emperor's soldiers ended his madness with their swords. Between those fantastic light-born columns his favourites had swum in the guise of nereids, and, climbing on the rocks, had sung sweetly to him, luring in his barge from the sea, calling him Ulysses, while he af- fected to stop his ears against their siren-song. C 59 J Messalina Tritons, too, had glided in and roused the echoes with their brazen horns, in salutation of Thetis, who rose up from the depths, attended by Leu- cothea and the Oceanides. With a throb of pleasure Messalina thought of another water-revel. As the consort of Claudius Caesar her power dwarfed that of Xerxes. She would be Hero, and on the rocky ledge below Neptune crowned with seaweeds should yield her up Leander, cool and beautiful. She called for Ilas, whose duty was to devise new pleasures. There was no likeness between them. Messa- lina's eyes might change with her temper from grey to green; but they never resembled those of Ilas, which were brown and shadowed. Her hair fell in tiny ripples, which in the sunshine were like pale gold; whereas in the light the black waves of Ilas' hair were shot with blue. "Come quickly, Ilas!" said Messalina as the girl entered. "I have thought of a new revel for the grotto. I shall be Hero, only this time Nep- tune shall not keep Leander. You are graceful, you shall sit on the rocks like a water-nymph. I shall fill the cavern with music. The part of Leander will be marvellously acted." Ilas knew by whom: she endured endlessly [ 6o J Mnester those rhapsodies concerning the beauty of Mnester, his genius, his graciousness. And in- deed he was reputed to be the handsomest man in Rome. Messalina had told her much of the spells that Eros had cast since his first coming, years ago, in distant Antioch; but she had seen so many lovers that her mistress' continued in- fatuation for the actor had seemed inexplicable, till she reflected that those other passions had been gratified, whereas Mnester had held aloof. She wondered at his temerity. "The ship should soon be here," she answered, looking out between the cliffs to the sea. Messalina examined the grotto, planning her carnival Though Antium was a place for dreams, it was none the less friendly to conspirators. In its seclusion many a project executed in Rome had been devised. Even on this day the servants of the villa on the cliff went about their work in the capital. Outside the palace of Poppaea Sabina loitered a man who watched attentively all who entered or left it. An hour before noon he observed a palanquin forcing its way through the crowd of clients and freedmen that filled the portico. Waiting an instant to confirm his guess as to its [61] Messalina occupant, he hurried to the. Imperial palace and sought out Narcissus, secretary of the Emperor. Except Pallas, who directed the treasury, and Callistus, who had survived the assassination of Caligula to become the go-between of those who petitioned the Emperor, Narcissus was the rich- est man in Rome. Not without reason did the wit to whom Claudius complained of his need of money advise him to take Pallas and Narcis- sus into partnership, when there would be enough and to spare. "I have seen Mnester, my lord," said the spy, bowing profoundly. "He was entering the house of Poppaea." "Have men been posted in Mnester's house?" "There are twenty soldiers, my lord, under Decius, the centurion." "Decius has his orders. Mnester will go to Antium." At this moment Mnester was in dalliance with his mistress. As they drank their wine under the planes in the court she begged him to dance for her. Mnester professed to be weary, but finding Poppea irresistible, he danced the com- bat of Hector and Achilles, dying with infinite [ 62 J Mnester grace. Poppaea hastened to restore him with kisses. "It was sweet to die for the guerdon of your lips, Poppeaa," he said, as he seated himself be- side her on the couch. They admired each other's beauty, most fatal of gifts. Looking at the sun, which was now high in the heavens, Mnester prepared to depart. "Your husband, dear Poppaa, would be em- barrassed by my presence. I shall spare his feelings." Poppeaa wound her arms about her lover's waist. "Scipio has reason to be jealous, dearest Mnester. He could not hope to rival the hand- somest man in the city." As Mnester leaned over the couch his black curls fell about her face, like a cloud hiding the sunshine of her yellow hair. "Farewell, my beautiful Poppaea. Shall I see you to-morrow in the theatre?" "Yes," she answered, "and after that, the night." Throwing on his cloak Mnester passed through the atrium to his palanquin. He stopped at one of the shops that bordered the E 63 J Messalina Forum, to purchase a tiny parchment scroll of verses, gaily bound in purple, for a gift to Pop- paea, after which he returned to his house. Seeing the soldiers he started back in alarm. The centurion stepped forward, holding out a roll of parchment. "By the Augusta's orders, Mnester, I am to deliver this authority, which withdraws .you from the theatre into her own service. Also, she desires you to attend her at Antium." Mnester's hand trembled as he took the docu- ment. At the end was the seal of Claudius, be- fore him the instruments of his will. "Give me tablets," he said faintly. "I desire to write instructions for my servants." The centurion nodded. "I shall wait," he an- swered briefly. For Decius, as Narcissus had said, had his orders, and would seize all letters, and first those dictated by love. Mnester called for tablets and a stylus, and, smoothing out the wax surface, wrote a hurried plea to Poppaea, begging her to incite the people to clamour for his return. Having folded the sheets he sealed and handed them to a slave. "I am ready," he said. "By what road must I go?" [ 64 J Mnester "To Ostia, first," answered Decius. "There I leave you, and thence a galley will carry you to Antium." In this way Messalina's will, as always, was obeyed, and by sunset the vessel was coming into sight round the headland. "I see it," cried Ilas, "and Mnester is standing on the deck." "We will stay on this ledge," said Messalina, walking round a gallery which had been cut in the face of one of the cliffs. "Here he cannot see us, though the stairway is in our view." The brilliance of the western sky was slowly shut out as the galley glided between the cliffs to the grotto. Leaping ashore the sailors made her fast, and threw out a plank across which Mnester walked to the landing-place. He mounted the steps, pale and disdainful. "See to it that he is properly attended," said Messalina, as he disappeared. "I shall speak with Narcissus' messenger, who has tidings to give me." She turned into the tunnel, followed by Ilas. The interior of the villa was exquisite with all the luxury of art. To pave its courts and cover its walls slaves had toiled in lands that were near E 65 j Messalina the edge of the world. The red columns of the peristyle had traversed burning deserts from porphyry quarries on the shores of the Arabic sea. Green marbles from Thrace lined the basins of the baths, which were set in pavements of violet and honey-coloured stones brought from Phrygia. Incense curled from graceful tripods of bronze, clouding the walls whose pan- els glowed with replicas of antique paintings. Ilas waited in the garden. Enclosed by the peristyle were beds of violets and asphodels. Ilas liked to sit on a curved marble seat which offered through snowy columns a glimpse of purple sea. Messalina, however, admired most the five love-chambers in which painters had il- lustrated the legends of Aphrodite. Mnester, who had bathed and dressed, went to the banquet hall, where Messalina awaited him. He knelt and kissed her hand, and Ilas led him to a couch. Messalina found in his anxiety a pleasure which she regarded as preliminary to a deeper satisfaction. Mnester could scarcely force him- self to taste the elaborate dishes. The villa on the cliff reminded him of the villa of Tiberius at Capree, and in his imagination he saw re- [ 66 J Mnester peated those swift plunges to death on the rocks below. When the meal was at an end Messalina, who had spoken no word concerning the subject that filled the minds of both, bade the pantomime attend her in one of the five chambers near the peristyle. With a sinking heart he obeyed and followed her, placing himself on a couch to which she pointed. "You seem afraid, my Mnester," she said, standing where she could watch his face. He moved uneasily, murmuring that his liberty had been taken from him. "Though I, too, am in chains," she answered softly, "I feel no anger against my captor." "The Augusta can free herself," he said. "An actor lives by the sufferance of others." "She cannot free herself from the dominion of love, my Hermes. But she can hope to have it made less cruel." He could not speak. Beside this new terror, his dread of the cliffs was as nothing. He desired Poppaea, and no other mistress. "You do not answer," she added. "Some Roman lord," he stammered, "not a C 67 J Messalina pantomime, such as I. The Augusta could find no joy in such a lover." She clenched her hands, her manner changing. "I have tried you," she cried, with sudden fury. "You have another love. You dare to refuse my love, you, an actor, a dancer! Who is it that can outrival an empress in a pantomime's eyes?" He slipped from the couch onto his knees, gasping with terror. "Her name!" she demanded. "Her name! Tell me, for I will know. I command you 1" But at the threat implied by her words a virile anger rose in Mnester's epicene heart. He thought of Julia Livilla, Caligula's sister, who, because she was beautiful, had been starved slowly till she could hope to rival none but the dead. Poppa;a's offence would be more terribly punished. He rose from his knees, pale but re- solved. "Be pitiful," he said. "I cannot love even at the command of an Empress." The corners of her thin lips drooped cruelly as she regarded him. "The woman's name! Must I force you to be dutiful?" He threw out his hands despairing. E 68 J Mnester "Your gestures are always graceful, my Mnester," she sneered. "I shall test them in the part of Marsyas, which I long to watch you play." She clapped her hands for the slaves. "Send Firmus to me," she commanded to the first who appeared. The man, who understood Fir- mus's duty, bowed and hurried away. Mnester shuddered, remembering that Mar- syas, who had dared to rival Apollo, had been flayed. He shrank against the wall as a brutal negro, armed with a thong, appeared at the door. "To your work, Firmus!" said Messalina coldly. Instantly the negro seized the panto- mime, and forcing him to his knees glanced at the Empress. "For the last time," she said, "the name of your mistress!" Mnester had never been heroic. Pampered by two Emperors, he had become like Narcissus in the legend, infatuated with himself. Neverthe- less for a moment his passion exalted him, though it was somewhat as if he acted. He flung up his head, shaking it in refusal. Firmus watched his mistress. "Strike !" she said. Dragging off his tunic the negro scourged Mnester across the shoulders. He drew in his [ 69 J Messalina breath sharply, and as she saw him wince Messa- lina felt savagely joyous. Misfortune unspeak- able that Eros, twelve years before among the cedar groves of Daphne, had shown her his face horrible with sated cruelty: but this was the way she had seen and remembered him. She seized the whip from Firmus and struck Mnester as he knelt, curling it round him in the cruel embrace denied to her arms. He clenched his teeth, refusing to cry out. Messalina thrust him from her as a figure ap- peared in the doorway. It was Ilas. She held a tablet in her right hand, but her left she pressed against her breast, sickened at the sight of love grown tigerish. "Give me the letter l" cried Messalina. She tore the tablets apart and thrust them before Mnester's eyes. "You fool!" she said, "you would have thwarted me, forgetting that not a thought of yours could escape my agents. Do you think I knew nothing of your visits to the house of Scipio? Of your dances and dalliance with his yellow-haired wife? Why, you are a fool! You have been watched hourly. One thing only they could not tell me, and that I have discovered for L 70 ] Mnester myself. Since this is no playing at love between you, so much the worse for both! Worst for Poppaa, my Mnester, since I have no use for her. For her there will be no choice." She added, less fiercely: "For you, the choice is be- tween love and death!" "Messalina !" Mnester cried hoarsely, "be mer- ciful, spare Poppaea, and for me the least of your wishes will be a command. You honour me by offering me love-but will not you make me love you by your gentleness? Spare Poppaea, and I shall swear never to see, never to think of her. If you show me this clemency I will obey you, and faithfully." For a moment she was touched, for she loved him passionately; but remembering that the gold of Poppaa's hair was brighter than her own, she became relentless. "She is a rival," she said, pale with anger. "I will have no rival where I love." "Messalina," he pleaded, "Poppea could know nothing of your love. Even had I dared to dream of it myself, I could not have guessed it. Command her that she cease to love me, and she will forget me. Ahl Messalina, if you cannot E7I Messalina pity Poppaea, spare her for Mnester's sake, whom you say you love." "You have said that by the command even of an Empress a man cannot be made to love. Neither by the same command will Poppaea cease to love." Then he despaired, seeing that there was no stemming the tide of her hatred. "Kill us both then!" he cried passionately. "Only let it be now, for if you destroy Poppaea you torture me. Oh, Popp ea," he shuddered, burying his face in his hands. "Do not speak her name!" she cried, stamping her foot. "Ilas, bid them prepare the galley! I will re- turn this instant. Also let Firmus be sent for. You shall stay, Mnester, under the eyes of Fir- mus. Consider well while I am absent. Make no attempt at death, or by all the gods I will find an end the Furies would shudder at." He made no answer, but sank weakly on the floor, leaning on one nerveless arm. His misery calmed a little her jealous rage, wresting from her a concession. "Yet since I have no wish to torture you, C 72 3 Mnester Poppaea shall choose her own death. This much I promise. But Poppaea dies." He bowed his head in wretched acknowledg- ment. At the door Firmus appeared, abasing himself. "This man shall be your charge," she said to the negro. "See that he lack nothing that my order may obtain. Only, be sure that he remain within these walls. If he escape, you will lie on the rocks below the cliffs." Turning, Messalina left the room. Firmus advanced to the side of his prisoner. Behind him Ilas entered, impelled to speak a kindly word, however furtive. Motioning to the negro to re- tire a little, she drew the tunic over Mnester's shoulders, not before a tear had fallen on his neck. "Poor Mnester," she murmured, "I cannot help you, or warn Poppaea. And indeed it would be useless. Perhaps she will wait for you in the Fields of Grief where Proserpina rules more kindly than Messalina. There is peace only in death." In his desolation he would have clung to her, but Ilas dared not stay. He pressed her hand in silence, and she hastened from the chamber. Fir- 1 73 1 Messalina mus, whose features expressed nothing, took his place at Mnester's side. A day had passed since Mnester went to Antium. In the Imperial mansion on the Pala- tine Hill Messalina, calm now, but more subtly dangerous, awaited a visitor. She nodded briefly as Suillius entered, for behind the scenes these two dropped the masks of the ceremonial play. He bowed. "I have need of your services, Suillius," said Messalina. She felt confident of his discretion, for he had played the informer before, with the utmost caution and skill. "My services, in any capacity, are for you to command." "The present capacity may be dangerous, Suillius, but it will not be unprofitable." Messalina rose to her feet. "Be careful, Suillius, that no word of what I tell you pass your lips." He inclined his head in answer. "I have withdrawn Mnester from the theatre into the Imperial household. Do you understand my desire?" Suillius unaerstood perfectly. A handsome E 74 Mnester actor, taken into the Empress's service? A child would have understood, knowing Messalina. "Suillius," she exclaimed with sudden vehe- mence, "I cannot endure a rival!" "Why should you? But you refer to Poppaa, or rumour has been false." "So all Rome knows of Poppaea!" she cried angrily. "Not all Rome, Madam, only such as are in- terested in the affairs of her eminent citizens." "So much the better, then, if it is as you say. Suillius, you will denounce Poppaea." "For exile, Madam?" "The exile from which she will not return." Messalina's voice was cold and harsh. "And the means, Madam? If you decree her death, she is dead already. It is no more than a choice of means." "She must be impeached, Suillius, so that a scandal may be avoided. As to the manner of her death, I have given my promise to Mnester that the choice shall be Poppaea's own. But there must be a public charge. It might be whispered that I was jealous of her beauty." "Who could credit such a rumour! But many know that she loves the pantomime. The people S75 I Messalina must not know that his withdrawal concerns Pop- paea; otherwise the comedians will amuse them with new jests." "That must be your task," she answered. "With what can Poppaea be charged?" Suillius pondered for a while. "I can think of only one accusation, and that involves another, who is noble and honoured." "What is it?" Messalina asked impatiently. "No one is too powerful, if the charge can be sus- tained." "It concerns Valerius," he answered. "It was rumoured once that in Valerius Scipio had a rival who was not without success." "Ah !" Messalina thought swiftly. "Adultery! Would the shame of discovery drive Poppaea to end her life ? The people would scarcely believe in such delicacy." Suillius shook his head. "The charge, moreover, would involve Valer- ius. Claudius would be lenient to his cousin." "Where is Valerius now?" she asked. "At Baia, Madam, where he awaits the com- pletion of his gardens." "It is that Valerius, called Asiaticus, who owns the gardens of Lucullus?" C 76 J Mnester "The same, Madam. He has expended a for- tune in their improvement." Messalina returned to her chair and sank into thought, resting her chin on her hand. All un- knowing Suillius had forced her to a decision. Those gardens of Lucullus, she was certain, the conqueror of the east had made to commemorate Antioch, where he had revelled in the delights of Daphne. She desired them ardently: in their arbours she might repeat the pleasures of those nights at Antioch, whose thrills and delicious terrors were absent from the diversions of her maturity. Possessing them, what revels might she not hold? The grotto of Antium was wretched by comparison. Thinking of them she almost forgot Poppaea. "Tell me about Asiaticus," she said, turning to Suillius. "Omit nothing that you have learned." "He has twice held the consulship," he an- swered, "first under Caligula, and again a year ago. There are two things, Madam, which might be urged against him. His birthplace is Vienne, in Gaul, where his influence among the tribes might be represented as a peril to the Em- peror. Also, though it cannot be proved that he was privy to the conspiracy, it is known that on G 77 1 Messalina the day of Caligula's death Valerius was in the palace." "His career has been distinguished, has it not, Suillius ?" "So distinguished, Madam, as perhaps to dim the fame of Claudius. He was in Britain with the Emperor, whose victories were said to owe not a little to Valerius." While Suillius spoke, Messalina, whom years of power had made the slave of caprice, came to a resolution. "Listen, Suillius," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper, "I shall speak without reserve. You know me too well, not to be discreet. You shall accuse Valerius of adultery with Poppaea. Further, since Claudius is the most cowardly man in the world, you must hint of the danger of treason: that Valerius has become powerful and popular, to the peril of the Emperor. Poppaa will find the accusation insupportable, and will die from shame. In this way she will expiate her offence-and stand no longer between Mnes- ter and me." Suillius contracted his brows, evidently un- easy. Messalina thought it well to reassure him. "Remember," she continued, "that the estates [78 ] Mnester of traitors suffer confiscation to Caesar. Thus, Suillius, the gardens of Lucullus will become the pleasure-gardens of Messalina-the riches of Valerius, at least in part, the reward of Suillius." The temptation being irresistible, Suillius yielded with scarcely a struggle. "You will be generous?" he asked. "The risk is great." "A million sesterces, Suillius, when Valerius is condemned." "And if I fail, if Valerius be not condemned- what then?" "Then you condemn yourself," she answered cynically. "It is so that I am assured of your untiring zeal and of my own security." Suillius smiled, in feeble appreciation; but re- flecting that, while he shared in such a secret, to refuse must be as perilous as to conspire, he as- sured her of his fidelity. "Give me a single day to prepare, and I'll wager Claudius shall hear such a tale of danger impending as will deny him sleep till he have Valerius in chains." "In chains is not enough, Suillius. On the next day Claudius would be full of pity for his cousin, and forget the charge." E 79 ] Messalina "Before that other day the gardens shall be yours." "Come to this chamber, then, at sunset to- morrow. I shall introduce you to the Emperor, before he has dined. At such a time his feelings are most easily touched." "I shall not fail, Madam." With a farewell bow Suillius left the room. The hour of Claudius's daily feast was at hand. Much as she loathed his gluttony Messalina thought it well to humour him. Calling for Ilas she ordered her to bring a robe of silk of the colour of her eyes, since she desired to raise her husband's love to the point of adoration. This was not difficult, for Messalina's beauty was un- diminished. The stupid and bloated Claudius had passed from ignominy as the butt of Calig- ula's witticisms into ridicule as the dupe of Messalina, whom he delighted to call his inno- cent dove. With the charm of youth she found it easy to captivate the uxorious dotard of twice her age. Besides, she had borne him two chil- dren, Octavia, a pretty child of seven years, and Britannicus, a twelvemonth younger, heir to the empire; and Claudius felt that he owed to Mes- salina the distinction that he was the first Caesar L 80 J Mnester to whom an heir was born in the purple. At present the Emperor was building a monument to his fame in the great harbour of Ostia, varying his labours with the administration of justice in the courts. Though a disappointed litigant had hurled books at his head, Claudius, who boasted that he tempered justice with mercy, had refused to punish him. Nevertheless Claudius displayed in none of these activities the vigour which dis- tinguished him at the banquet. Here Messalina greeted him. Rising on his couch Claudius in extravagant words announced that Venus, or at least one of her doves, had been sent to bless his arms. Messalina acknowledged the compliment with a smile, and declared that from her spouse all her happiness was derived. "So too with mine !" cried Claudius, forgetful of Cleopatra and Calpurnia, with whom he had just been dallying, and ignorant of Messalina's lovers, whose names he would have found too numerous to remember. The dinner proceeded with the usual entertain- ments of dancing and music. After the last of the courses had been served Messalina retired, leaving Claudius in the company of buffoons, and pretending philosophers. s8iJ Messalina The night came on, and to distract herself she ordered Ilas to assemble the actors of her house- hold. They performed a comedy, but she found the dancers wretched by comparison with Mnes- ter, and dismissed them suddenly. She had de- stroyed others, but none so powerful as Valerius. She slept fitfully, and dawn found her weary and irritable. By sunset her spirits had begun to revive at the approach of action. Punctually a slave announced the arrival of Suillius. "You are prepared ?" she asked swiftly, spring- ing to her feet. "I am ready, Madam," he replied. "Let us seek the Emperor." "His slaves are dressing him. We must speak at once. I shall enter unannounced. It will be easy to agitate him by a show of terror." "I shall follow you and wait for the Emperor's order to speak." "Come, then, Suillius," she answered. They left the room and, passing to the apartments of Claudius, paused at the door of his dressing chamber. The sentries, seeing the Empress, stood aside. "Wait for my summons," she whispered, and parting the curtains rushed suddenly into the [82 Mnester room. Claudius, whose sandals a slave was fastening, leapt from his chair in terror. He lived in dread of assassination, and even at table was served by soldiers. Messalina's action de- prived him of speech, almost of his senses. He recovered a little, recognizing his wife. "Claudius," she gasped, clinging to him, "dear Claudius, your throne, your life, are in peril. They are conspiring against you. Save me, Clau- dius, save Britannicus, save Octavia!" "Conspiracy!" he whispered feebly. "Who conspires against me? Have them seized!" he cried hoarsely, his mouth opening wide with fear. He fell into his chair, his jaws chattering. Messalina flung herself at his feet, grasping his knees. "He will kill us!" she moaned, "he has cor- rupted the soldiers." Claudius rose from his chair, tottering. "Call my guards!" he cried. "Assemble the Praetorians in the palace." "Summon the Prefect," she urged. " He is loyal to your house." "Yes, yes!" he echoed; "summon Crispinus. Let him assemble all the cohorts." The slaves sped from the room, infected by his fear. EL83 J Messalina "Suillius waits to be admitted," gasped Mes- salina. "Hear him, dear Claudius, for my sake, for the sake of our children." She rose, simulat- ing weakness and, drawing back the curtain, signed to Suillius to enter. He fell on his knees, catching at the Emperor's hands and kissing them. "Speak, Suillius. Withhold nothing. I will reward your fidelity." "Caesar," he answered, "I was afraid to speak, since a noble Roman is concerned, one moreover of your own house." Claudius passed a trembling hand across his forehead, which perspired. "Tell me all," he said. "Be assured of my pro- tection." "I shall speak freely, since you command it. Casar, there are many rumours of a rising in Gaul. The tribes of Vienne are devoted to Va- lerius Asiaticus, who was born in their city. He has been heard to boast, Caesar, that his hand directed the murder of the divine Caius, though he seemed to take no part. Yet his boasts have gained him new popularity. But recently he was in the provinces, meditating a visit to the German strongholds. Shall I justify this suspicion that [ 84 J Mnester he plots to raise the Gauls? Then know, Caesar, that to his villa on the coast at Baiae, where Valerius has retired from Rome, a galley comes by night, it is thought from Massilia." Claudius shook with fear. "The gods defend us !" he murmured. "I have heaped benefits on Valerius. My mother loved him. Yet he would kill Antonia's son." "You have been too generous, Claudius," cried Messalina wildly. "You have loaded him with favours, till his enormous wealth has become a danger to the State. With the riches you have given him he has corrupted the Gauls and tamp- ered with the loyalty of the soldiers." A sentry appeared at the door, announcing that the Prefect of the Praetorian guard had arrived. "Admit him," said Claudius, who retreated as Crispinus entered. "You have sent for me, Caesar." Claudius seated himself, trying to conceal his anxiety. "I have been informed that rebellion is immi- nent, Crispinus." The Prefect started, in evident surprise. A little reassured, Claudius continued: "You will take three cohorts, Crispinus, to S85 J Messalina Baia. Use them at the first sign of revolt. You will seize Valerius Asiaticus, who is now at his villa at Baia, and conduct him immediately to Rome." "In chains," added Messalina. "The remainder of the cohorts shall be held under arms in the palace." "I start at once, Caesar." Crispinus bowed and withdrew. "You are fatigued, dear Claudius," said Mes- salina tenderly. "The danger is now averted. Restore your strength with some Falernian, for your guests await your arrival. Do not let them suspect that your life is in peril." Claudius assented eagerly. "We will join the guests in the banquet hall," he answered. Suil- lius thought it well to depart, and indeed the Emperor, whose mind was dazed by the shock of terror, had already forgotten him. Messalina, passing through the doorway with Claudius, gave him a smile of triumph. As the curtain fell behind him, Suillius rubbed his hands together, calculating the riches of Valerius. At Antium Mnester, wondering about the fate of Poppaea, lost count of the passage of time. L 86 J Mnester "Firmus," he would plead wearily, "tell me the news from Rome." But Firmus would grin brutally, indifferent to all the world, which in- deed he had little reason to love. 'On the eighth day Mnester regarded life itself as a wretched captivity, from which he hoped Poppaea had been released, and from which only the watchful eye of Firmus prevented his escape. It was otherwise in the capital, where in the crowded Forum people speculated on the mission of the Praetorians, who eight days before had been seen marching, accoutred as if for war, along the road to Naples. At noon a courier reached the city, announcing that Crispinus would arrive with his troops at nightfall. Messalina heard the news with de- light, and leaving the room of State went to her own apartments, calling for Ilas. "There is news from Baias," she said, as the girl entered. "Crispinus will reach the walls at sunset, bringing with him Valerius." "They have travelled fast," answered Ilas, wondering if she betrayed her disgust. She knew nothing of Valerius except that he was a patri- cian of high culture and noble character. Of Poppaea she knew little, except that she was [ 87 J Messalina beautiful; but for seven days she had known that life must be terrible to Mnester's yellow-haired mistress. Messalina had sent Suillius to her house to announce the terms on which there could be no bargaining. Ilas, who guessed that Pop- paea delayed her obedience in the hope that Valerius might plead successfully with the Em- peror, had resolved to convince her that it was useless: for Poppaea, knowing nothing of the charge of treason, prolonged her anguish to no purpose. "I have been thinking, Madam," said Ilas, "of how Valerius may work upon Caesar's benevolent nature. He will appeal to the ties of kinship. He will remember, too, that his rank entitles him to be heard before the Senate. Now, if the Em- peror were told that Poppaea had killed herself, being unable to face her judges, he could not doubt her guilt. If he were convinced of the one crime it would be easy to persuade him of the other." "You Greeks are full of cunning," said Mes- salina. "Nevertheless, the plan is good. Suillius shall charge Poppaea with adultery, and de- nounce her because she did not reveal the treason meditated by Valerius. Ilas, you shall have [ 88 J Mnester Vitellius introduced as Suillius speaks, to declare that Poppea has killed herself, making no de- fence. Vitellius is an agent of Suillius, a man to be hired for any service." "Let me carry your command to Poppaea, Madam. Within a few hours Valerius will have reached the city: there is no time to lose." Messalina thought for a moment. "You are right," she said; "there is no time to send for Suillius. Besides, it might impede his plans. Go to Poppaa then: tell her that before dawn Valerius will have expiated by death the double crime of adultery and treason. By sun- set she must have expiated her own. Warn her, Ilas, that if she delay an hour longer, the promise made to her through Suillius shall be with- drawn." "I shall seek Poppxa instantly, Madam, and afterward inform Vitellius." Ilas hastened from the room, and Messalina, calling a slave, sent for the tribune of the cohort which constituted her private guard. When the officer appeared at the door she signed to him to enter, acknowledging his bow with a smile. "You are a handsome youth, Myronides," said Messalina; "but though your hair is dark and E 89 J Messalina your features like those of Hermes, you should still be jealous of Mnester." The tribune flushed, a little embarrassed, but forced himself to smile. "Every man in the city, Madam, is jealous of Mnester." "How, Myronides?" Messalina demanded in sudden anger. "Why do they envy Mnester?" The tribune was startled. "Because, as you have said, he is so handsome -for no other reason. At least, I know of none." Messalina grew calm again, because Myro- nides pleased her. "You are certain?" she answered, facing him and looking fixedly into his eyes. She enjoyed his confusion, which caused him to blush. "I am certain, Madam," Myronides stam- mered. Messalina, provoked by his embarrassment to abandon her pretence of the modesty that she never felt, laughed lightly. "You are wrong. There is another reason. The pantomime shares my villa at Antium." Myronides turned pale, but Messalina, who had forgotten him at the thought of Mnester, did not notice it. E 90 ] Mnester "I sent for you, Myronides, to receive my com- mands. You must depart for Antium without delay. There you will find Mnester, whom you will escort to the palace. Show this jewel to the freedman in charge of the villa. He will order Firmus to place Mnester in your keeping." Re- membering that she must make a show of danger, she added: "Take with you Decius and another centurion, with their companies." She gave Myronides a careless smile, which set his heart beating foolishly, and a gesture of dismissal, which reminded him that her own belonged to Mnester. But he reflected that in executing her contracts of love, Messalina, to whom Claudius had often expounded the principles of law, en- forced a limitation of time. Ilas, who had gone to Scipio's villa, spoke meanwhile with Poppea. "It is useless to talk of hope," she said; "Mes- salina is implacable. Besides, she holds a letter that Mnester wrote, begging you to help him: which is a confession of love." "But Valerius," cried Poppaa, who had fallen on the floor, and leaned against a couch, "the Senate would not condemn him for a forgotten adultery!" Messalina "He is in chains, and Claudius, who lives in terror of treachery, has been persuaded that he conspires with the Gauls." "But the charge is monstrous." Poppaa, who thought kindly of Asiaticus, burst into tears, pressing her face in her arms. "And he is rich-he could bribe every senator to acquit him." "Messalina will see to it that Claudius shall hear the charge of treason," said Ilas sadly. "As for his riches, they pursue Valerius. Messalina desires them, and covets his gardens, in which she means to repeat the pleasures of Daphne." Poppea shuddered and moaned, causing Ilas to weep. "Why do you pity me ?" she asked, looking up. "Are you not Messalina's favoured confidante?" "Messalina's favours are commands," said Ilas bitterly. "I obey, for fear of a worse thing." "As to Valerius, it is true that once we were lovers. I might have loved him still, if Mnester had never come to Rome. But Valerius was not fickle. He is generous and will deny that he ever loved me." "Mnester loves you enough to dare to confess it. She would have seduced him at Antium, but C 92 J Mnester he repulsed her, even under the whip. Then she threatened to put you to the torture, and to save you, he swore to become her lover. For this she granted him a boon-that you might look for death in your own way. Wretched that I am, I can bring you no other proof of his fidelity." "Messalina will discard him, and I shall have died for nothing." Poppaea moaned, striking the couch with her clenched hands. "Mnester will follow you," said Ilas, seating herself beside Poppaea, and laying a hand on her shoulder. "Ill-luck pursues all her lovers. For she tires quickly: Messalina's passions are hot, but her heart is cold. They are like ill-bred hounds, which forget their quarry when the first course is run." Poppaea was silent for a while, and Ilas rose, for she feared that Suillius might find her there. Poppaea, grown suddenly calm, rose also. "Wait," she said. "First, I have found a friend, which is no small thing, here where Mes- salina apes Caligula." She unfastened a long rope of pearls from her neck. "Remember me by this. My last favour is not to Mnester. It is unfortunate," she added, smiling bitterly, "that E 93 Messalina you cannot inform the Augusta, since she abhors adultery." But Ilas would not accept the pearls. "I de- sire no reward," she answered. "I have taken pleasure in bearing Mnester's message, though wretched in being the messenger of death." "Nevertheless, you must take them," said Poppeaa. "For your comfort I offer you no re- ward except my thanks. But these pearls will buy your freedom. Take them, dear child, and fly from this city of terror. And now, Ilas," Poppaea whispered, "stay but a moment, and then hasten to Messalina. The gods know that I am innocent, but the gods were ever slow to move. Men say their anger overtakes the murderer, but they never hold back his arm." She took a hair- pin from her hair. It was surmounted by a single pearl of great size. Lifting a goblet of wine from a table Poppaea held above it the gleaming jewel. She crushed it in her fingers, and a white powder fell into the cup. Turning to Ilas, Poppaea smiled sadly. "Farewell !" she said, raising the cup in salu- tation. Ilas turned away, shuddering, and covered her face at the omen. When a light sigh broke the E 94 1 Mnester silence she opened her eyes. Poppea was lying on her side, and as Ilas watched, one white arm fell down beside the couch, the fingers unclosing themselves from the cup, which rolled on to the floor. For a moment Ilas knelt beside her, and then, raising the lifeless arm, she closed and kissed Poppaa's eyes. Murmuring a prayer to the household gods she hurried from the chamber, sick and weeping. It was many years since she had lost faith in the justice of the gods. That was when a pirate ship, sweeping down upon her island home, tore her roughly from the parents she had loved, and the sister she had played with. Watching the Roman galleys, outdistanced, sinking slowly in the IEgean waves, she decided that justice was only an idea. Afterward, standing bound and naked in the slave-market of Delos, she saw her mother led away in servitude. She fell down in a swoon, but when an old woman, who roused her and desired to comfort her, admitted that her mother had passed by for ever, Ilas listened no further. She believed that love was the greatest of misfortunes, and decided that she must never love again. [L95 I Messalina She walked toward the house of Vitellius, whom she found in conversation with Suillius. They treated her, as the favourite of Messalina, with deference. "Our greetings, Ilas," said Vitellius affably. "Does the Augusta honour us with a message?" "She does, Vitellius. Poppaea has poisoned herself. You are to enter suddenly and announce the fact as Suillius completes his speech of accu- sation." "Is Poppaea dead, Ilas, or is she dead for the purposes of the trial?" Suillius asked, smiling at his own humour. "She is dead," Ilas answered coldly. "I myself was present, not an hour ago, when she obeyed the Augusta's command." "Good, indeed!" Suillius exclaimed. "You have heard what you must do, Vitellius. Learn- ing the news at such a moment, Caesar will need no persuasion." "Nothing could be more fortunate," said Vitellius. "Messalina possesses the wisdom of Minerva." Ilas waited no longer, for the air of villainy was oppressive. She returned to the palace, where Messalina awaited her impatiently. [ 96 J Mnester "You have seen Poppaa?" she demanded. "Quickly, for I am all impatience." "She is dead, Madam," Ilas answered, assum- ing of necessity a tone of indifference. "She drank poisoned wine. I waited and saw her die." "Ah 1" Messalina said softly, her lips curving downward in a cruel smile. "So she has obeyed. Was she long in dying, Ilas? Tell me how she died." "She said little, Madam. She declared her in- nocence, and then, dissolving some poisonous powder in a cup of wine, lay on her couch and drained it. When I saw that she was dead, I went to Vitellius, with whom I found Suillius." "She loved Mnester," Messalina replied. "The gods should have planned otherwise. I shall dress now, in the robes Claudius loves best. It wants two hours to sunset. Call here my wait- ing women. And, Ilas, bring me more jewels." Claudius, who was dictating to a secretary his comments on the judgments he had delivered that morning, forgot what he had intended to say, as his ear caught the distant tramp of soldiers. The secretary finished the sentence and withdrew. [ 97 J Messalina Crispinus, entering the room, made an obeisance. "Your orders, Caesar, are obeyed. I have found no sign of revolt, but Valerius is without, in fetters, according to your command." "Let him be brought in, Crispinus, and let the chamber be cleared. The matter is of high im- portance." The Perfect retired, and the slaves and cour- tiers hastened after him. Messalina, entering with Suillius, seated herself at her consort's side. Valerius, his chains clanking on the mosaic floor, appeared in the doorway. Claudius was embarrassed by the sound; but as his eyes rested on the reproachful face of Valerius, he flushed deeply, moving uneasily in his chair. The pris- oner bowed, and, rising to his full height, looked calmly at Messalina. "Valerius," the Emperor began, trying to con- ceal his anxiety under a show of dignity, "a charge has been laid against you affecting the safety of the State." Glancing downward at his fetters, Valerius inclined his head, as if confirming a suspicion. Claudius turned hastily to the informer. "Speak, Suillius. Of what do you accuse Valerius ?" C 98 J Mnester Suillius stepped forward, bowing deeply to all three. "Casar," he began, "of so grave a charge, against so noble a citizen, I could not endure the responsibility, were I not appalled by the peril of the Emperor and certain of the guilt of Valerius." The prisoner's glance of contempt caused Suil- lius to turn his back upon him. "Caesar, the tribes of Gaul are planning to re- volt. Already there are rumours of a rising. More terrible still, the soldiers' loyalty has been corrupted. Many have been heard in the wine- shops hailing drunkenly the new Emperor, whom they call Valerius. Nothing, Caesar, could be more damning than their admissions. Further-and may my zeal obtain my pardon-I have set men to watch Valerius. Between the Ides of June and the Kalends of August many vessels from Gaul, or one vessel many times, rowed in under cover of darkness against the walls of his villa at Baia." "The vessel was my pleasure barge," Valerius interrupted contemptuously. "The tribe of Valerius is that of Vienne, his birthplace," Suillius continued. "Caesar, I E 99 I Messalina charge Valerius with the treason of inciting the Gauls to revolt, to the peril of the Emperor and the State." Suillius paused for an instant to draw breath. "I charge him also," he continued, "with adultery with Poppaea Sabina, wife of Cornelius Scipio, committed at the houses of Caius Vettius Petra and Caius Lentulus Petra." There was silence for a moment, broken by the entrance of a sentinel. "Vitellius craves audience, Caesar, with news concerning Valerius." "Vitellius?" the Emperor repeated, unable to connect the name with the matter before him. "What can Vitellius desire?" "Admit him," said Messalina to the soldier. "He may have evidence to offer," she added, turning to Claudius. Vitellius entered the chamber, bowing almost to the floor. "Caesar," he said, "I have been sent by Cor- nelius Scipio to announce to you that Poppaea, having learnt of the arrest of Valerius and of the charges made against him, has confessed her guilt by killing herself. She lies in his palace, dead from a draught of poisoned wine." [L oo Mnester At these words, Valerius, who all the time had spoken nothing, turned pale and started. "Poppa dead l" he whispered; but growing suddenly enraged, he raised his fettered hands. "Justice, Casar!" he cried. "Not alone do they accuse me, but they murder Poppaea. Grant me justice! Grant justice to Poppaea!" "She was not murdered, Caesar," Vitellius broke in cunningly. "Scipio has sworn that she poisoned herself." The Emperor was lost in confusion between them, the fear of conspiracy depriving him of what little perspicacity he possessed. Messalina hastened to make his decision. "Let Valerius speak, Claudius," she said. "He has not answered the charges of Suillius." "No, no," said Claudius feebly, "let him speak. He has not answered the charges of Suillius." The others were silent, waiting for Valerius. "I deny them," he cried passionately. "They deceive you, Caesar, fastening one falsehood on another. I deny their charges. Let them bring proofs of my treason!" "I have offered proofs," said Suillius quickly. "Vitellius will swear that Valerius received en- voys from Gaul." Messalina "Vitellius!" cried Valerius, scornfully. "Of what value is the oath of a Vitellius!" "The one charge is already proved," said Vitellius angrily, "or why, Caesar, did Poppaea kill herself ?" "True!" Claudius repeated. "Why did Poppaea kill herself?" "For this reason, Caesar," answered Suillius: "that she had no courage to face her trial." "Suillius has found the reason," said Claudius judicially. "Poppaa's act was a confession of guilt." Valerius folded his arms. "Caesar, this is not justice. I claim the privi- lege of my rank. I desire to be heard before the Senate." But Suillius was quick to seize his opportunity. "He insults you, Caesar, you, who have pre- sided in the courts to the admiration of the jur- ists !" "Be silent, Valerius!" cried the Emperor, stung by the reflection cast upon his dispensa- tion of justice. "A charge of treason must be heard by Caesar himself." Valerius bowed, submitting to fate. Claudius, S102 J Mnester too kindly to indulge his resentment, invited him to defend himself. "You are my cousin, Valerius. I will hear your answers to these accusations. My regard for justice has been made the subject of poems." Messalina, who had sat without speaking, looked anxiously at Suillius. Valerius sank on one knee. "Caesar," he began, "Claudius, by all the gods I swear that it is I, not yourself, who am be- trayed. The charges I repudiate with indigna- tion, with horror. Claudius, I have never been a traitor; in Britain I was at your side, in the on- rush of the enemy, in the parleys which his treachery made perilous. As your cousin, Clau- dius, I was your friend: Antonia could have con- vinced you. As your subject I have kept my oaths, never swerving an instant from my fidelity. And indeed your generosity placed me beyond the reach of temptation. Did I long for riches? You loaded me with wealth. Did I desire hon- ours? The consulship was mine. You deprived me of cause for jealousy, if jealousy there could have been. For I considered myself more to be envied than Caesar, since all that he possessed, riches, power, honours, I had myself, in abund- ance, without those anxieties which he assumes SI1o3 Messalina with the purple." Valerius paused, overcome by emotion; and Claudius, who was moved, turned away his head to hide his tears. Messalina, who thought only of the gardens of Lucullus and watched Claudius anxiously, cov- ered her face in pretence of pity and whispered to Vitellius. "He is well named the pumpkin-headed. His head is as full of stupidity as a pumpkin of seeds. Be wary! It will go hard with you if Asiaticus escapes." Valerius lifted his face again to Claudius. "Casar, they would have you to believe that Poppaea killed herself. And indeed I cannot dis- prove it, if Scipio swears to its truth. Yet by the immortal gods I swear that Poppaea loved not me, but Mnester. Claudius," he cried, forgetting caution in his grief, "Claudius, is not Mnester now in the villa at Antium? That, at least, Crispinus could have learnt at Baiae. I swear to you, Casar, it is not Scipio who is wronged, but Claudius. Mnester dallies in Messalina's villa, while they drive Poppeaa to death. The treason is not mine, Casar, the conspiracy is not mine! Look to Suillius, look to Vitellius-look to your wife, Caesar !" Valerius, whose voice had [ Io4J Mn ester broken, shook his arms before his face, rattling the chains. Suillius sprang forward. "Treason, Caesar! Treason now against the Augusta! He insults you, Caesar, he calumniates your wife, the chastest of women, the most faith- ful of wives. Hear him no longer!" "No, do not listen to him, Caesar," cried Vitellius, following his leader. "We are loyal to you, we cannot endure such outrages." "Will you protect me?" Messalina leapt from her chair. "It is because he is conscious of his power that he dares to slander me in the very presence of Caesar! Remove the prisoner," she commanded, running to the door and beckoning to the guard. Crispinus' soldiers rushed into the chamber, and seizing Valerius hauled him through the doorway. He struggled with them, beside himself with passion. "They dupe you, Claudius," he shouted. "Your wife has fooled you, she fools you still !" But they choked his cries, dragging him from the room, Messalina following. Claudius sat silent, stupid between fear and affection, anger and jealousy. Suillius knew that [ Iog ] Messalina he must be forced to a decision, for with tran- quillity his kindliness would return. "He has insulted you, Caesar," he said. "He has tried to stain the character of the Augusta. Yet I shall be silent, seeing that I am angry, and let Vitellius speak for him, since he is the friend of Valerius." "He was my friend, Caesar," said Vitellius, "but I can have no traitor among my friends. Yet friendship is sacred, and prompts me to plead for him." Vitellius wept, but covered his face with his toga to conceal the absence of tears. "Have I permission to speak?" he asked, fall- ing on his knee. Claudius nodded slowly in as- sent. His mouth was drooping foolishly and his face was puckered like a buffoon's in a mime. "Indeed, Caesar," said Vitellius, "we were friends in early youth. Our love was ennobled by our devotion to Antonia, your venerated mother. She loved Valerius as she might have loved a son. His character was generous, his career distin- guished. You have acknowledged yourself, Caesar, that his diligence and courage aided your glorious campaign in Britain. He loved his friends and was tireless in his service to the State." Mnester Vitellius stretched out his arms, his voice be- came tender. "He is guilty, indeed; that cannot be denied. For one of his crimes Poppaea has made his confession. The greater he has admit- ted by his defiance, by his reckless slanders against your virtuous wife. But oh, Claudius, be merciful! Justice the Emperor must enforce, but by his clemency he is remembered. This alone I ask for Valerius, I who am his friend: be gracious Caesar, let him choose his own death, so that he may not be exposed to the ignominy which would dishonour the memory of his ancestors." Vitellius remained on his knees, his arms out- stretched in appeal. Claudius rose to his feet. "Your prayer is granted, Vitellius," he said wearily. "Let Valerius be informed of my deci- sion and clemency. The gods bear me witness that to condemn one of my own house is to make his misery my own." He sat down again, limp and helpless. "Tell the Augusta I would speak with her," he added. They left him, Suillius to convey the order to Crispinus, Vitellius to sum- mon the Empress. Messalina hastened to his side. "You are weak, dear Claudius," she said, as- [ 107 Messalina suming a tone of tender sympathy. She clapped her hands, and when a slave appeared ordered him to bring a goblet of Falernian. Claudius drank it eagerly, turning to the resource which never failed him in his perplexity. "Valerius will choose his own manner of death," he muttered, between gulps of wine. "Your nature is merciful, Claudius," Messa- lina answered. "His guilt was evident, yet it is glorious in an Emperor to be as pitiful as justice will allow. Come, the feast awaits you, and now it is permitted us to eat and drink without fear." Claudius, merciful and gluttonous, staggered to the banquet hall. In the gardens of Lucullus the last flames licked up the oil which dripped from the crum- bling pyre into little pools. Five hours had passed since Valerius, washed and perfumed with infinite care, had directed the construction of the pyramid of boughs and faggots, moving it once lest the fire should injure his trees. Afterward he had dined with his freedmen, exhorting them to emulate his bearing, and advising them to carry away what they desired, since his will would be set aside. At the end, having taken the [ o8 ] Mnester hand of each in farewell, he went to his bath, and ordered his physician to open his veins. "It would have been better to perish by the cunning of a Tiberius," he murmured in delicate disgust, "or by the frenzy of a Caligula, than to fall a victim to a woman's treachery and the scabbed tongue of a Vitellius." And so, desiring his phy- sician to read to him the last sentences of Soc- rates, Valerius died. When the moon rose over the Pincian hill Messalina, walking between the oaks and watch- ing the silver dissolve in the waters of a lake, told herself that she had brought Daphne to Rome. So that she remembered Phocion, the cruel sword of Rufinus, and the thong and spear of the priest- ess of Artemis. She turned to Mnester, who walked at her side, melancholy at Poppa a's last words, which Ilas had repeated to him. "Do you love me yet?" Messalina inquired. And she told him about the dancer of Antioch, who though unwilling had been pricked and scourged into submission. Her teeth glistened between her smiling thin lips, and her eyes mir- rored the flames of the pyre. "You could dance more gracefully than the virgin of Daphne," she said. [Io9 Messalina Mnester reflected. "I have boasted that I could mime the part of any lover." And he added, aloud: "With the grace of Apollo, whose attri- bute is an arrow; with the subtlety of Hermes, whose wand points to Elysium; or with the cold- ness of Neptune, whose sceptre is of frozen spume." "You have forgotten Hercules," said Messa- lina, "whose club performed superhuman tasks. But let us explore these gardens. The turf makes a green carpet in the cedar wood." [ Iio ILAS Ilas SINCE the foresight of Messala had delivered his daughter into a satyr's arms to be lifted to the throne of the world, nine years had passed so swiftly that Messalina thought of her life as a sleeper remembers a fantastic dream. Yet some- times their speed had slackened, making life in- tolerably tedious: for, to Messalina, life was ex- citement, inaction was death. In Alexandria, walking by the seashore, she had seen a philoso- pher who sat motionless in a cave, gazing at his navel. "Why does he do this?" she asked. And an Egyptian in her retinue answered: "For the same reason that you wander by the seashore-to at- tain happiness." "He is like the dead," she replied. "The dead do not move." And as she spoke the philosopher, who once had travelled to India in order to learn wisdom, came to life for a moment, and mur- mured: "The wisest of the seven wise men was Solon, who said, 'Call no man happy until he be dead.' I13] Messalina I, alone among the living, am as the dead, and I alone am happy. I do not wish for life, I need not shrink from death. I desire nothing. I am dead. I am happy." "He is mad," Messalina said to the Egyptian. "He thinks he is dead, and he has not died. He thinks he is happy, and he does not smile." But she had gone away afraid, because it was said that in India men had discovered truth. After this Messalina hated philosophers, since they de- spised action. She listened to the artists, but when they talked of beauty she could not under- stand them. Therefore she despised them also, but secretly, because in her palaces they could create magnificence, which she was able to appre- ciate. And some of them were handsome, like Mnester. But the affair of Mnester belonged to the past. The wind of it which had swept her over the sea of her life had ceased, leaving her becalmed and full of weariness. She grew angry at the thought that Claudius was away at Ostia, watching the building of his great harbour, while she could not profit by his absence. Messalina had no friend, but she had slaves, whose friendship could not be withheld. So she spoke with Ilas, who S114 1 Ilas could understand everything, even the occasional weariness of power. "From so dull a life as mine, Ilas, death can- not differ greatly." Messalina looked listlessly round the chamber, whose walls were panelled in black and decorated with pictures of the under- world. "These walls might be those of my tomb, painted like some I have seen in Egypt with the judgment of the dead." Ilas was seated on a cushion, threading pearls from a tiny heap beside her on the floor. To her eyes' dreamy languor her life had added an im- passioned melancholy. Under their brows, arched with no indentation above her straight nose, they cast upon the world reflections infi- nitely diverse. Her lips, full and tender, covered small white teeth. Her figure was graceful and slender, like that of a dancer. At present Ilas was thinking of Myronides, the commander of the guard, and her eyes were shadowed. "It is pleasant to live in the future," she said, "but not the future with Osiris or Proserpina." "Pleasant for you-the Greeks are fond of such dreaming. For me there is no delight in pleasures that I cannot feel or lovers that I can- not touch. I live in the future only as it becomes EI15] Messalina the present; and from this present I can see noth- ing in the future." Ilas smiled to herself: for her also there was nothing in the present, yet she looked forward hopefully since Heliodorus, the astrologer, had told her that her love would be given to a soldier, the path of whose life already ran beside her own. Ilas had held a mirror up to her brown eyes, and perceiving there only one soldier, had felt her heart throb in confirmation, telling her that she, who had never loved, loved ardently Myronides. But Heliodorus would tell her no more. "The Egyptians can see into the future," she said. "Send for one of their soothsayers, who will tell you whether the future is empty or holds something to wait for." "They cannot read the stars," answered Mes- salina. "Why did not the astrologer Ptolemaeus foresee that Tiberius would kill him, and flee?" "I cannot say, Madam. But it may be that he believed in fate and would not try to save him- self. Many Egyptians believe in fate." "I believe in the stars," said Messalina; adding inconsistently, "but I would struggle against them. An Empress should submit to no power. Once I was afraid of the gods, but when I learnt [i6] Ilas that they were jealous of greatness I saw that they could not be propitiated. Since then I have ignored them, and I have prospered." "You do well to refuse them worship," answered Ilas, who was thinking of Valerius and Poppaea. "You have more power than they. If they have power, they do not use it-or justly," she added, to herself. "If I fall, the fault will be mine. No one can overthrow those who hold the throne of Caesar, unless pride robs them of their reason, as it did Caligula." "I have read in Euripides that when the gods wish to destroy a man they first make him mad. Then he destroys himself. Caligula was not mad till he became Caesar." Messalina, who had been lying on a couch idly pulling the petals from a rose, sat up suddenly. Sometimes she hated Ilas, when unreasoning in- tuition told her she must fear the girl; but the feeling would pass, and she would take her into favour again. Besides, Ilas was invaluable. "It was pride, and not the gods, that made Caligula mad." Nevertheless, Messalina, who was superstitious, felt afraid. She lived in terror : I17]1 Messalina of death, and knew that if one fell from the throne death was inevitable. Ilas turned to another subject. "It is said that Heliodorus has never been wrong in reading the stars. Let me send for him, Madam, it will make the hours pass quickly." "He may promise ill-luck. Astrologers are certain only about misfortune." "Heliodorus is too wise to foretell misfortune to the Empress, Madam. If he cannot promise happiness he will be silent." "If that is true I shall let him read my fate. Go to him, Ilas, and tell him to bring his scrolls to the palace. I long for knowledge of the future." When Ilas went in search of Heliodorus, Mes- salina, lonely and weary of inactivity, tore an- other rose in pieces and raised herself from the couch. Often she would seize impatiently a manuscript from Ilas and throw it on the floor, jealous that her slave could find pleasure where she could not. She paced the floor restlessly, de- termining that if Ilas returned without the as- trologer she would have the city searched from end to end. But, an idea occurring to her, Mes- salina forgot her impatience. She called her II118] Ilas slaves, and bade them remove the busts and couches from the room. At her command they brought heavy chairs and a table of citrus-wood, and covered the walls and floor with Alexan- drian carpets. Then they carried in a small statue of Isis, one of many thousands in Rome, in which it was said there was a second and greater population of statues, and placed a bronze censer before it. Messalina signed to the slaves to leave, and standing before the statue threw incense upon the flame, praying to Isis for success in love. She was finishing her prayer when Ilas entered the room. "Heliodorus waits without, Madam," she whispered. "Admit him," said Messalina, and seated her- self in the largest of the chairs. Drawing the curtain aside Ilas motioned the soothsayer to enter. Messalina gazed half fearfully, half eagerly, at the man of mystery. His face was thin and sallow, the lower part covered with a curling beard. But Messalina saw only his eyes, which were black and gleaming, and his robe, which, as he threw aside his long cloak, she saw was all [ 119J Messalina starred and blazing with hieroglyphics and magi- cal signs. The astrologer bowed profoundly, stretching out his hands, each of which held a parchment scroll. "Your fame has reached my ears," said Mes- salina, trying to conceal the fear with which he inspired her. "I desire to learn some of the secret wisdom which men believe you have found." "The Empress has but to command," he re- plied. "I am her servant." "I am tired of living, Heliodorus. Since in the present there is nothing, I desire to learn what the future may hold." Heliodorus bowed again, offering no reply. Messalina pointed to a chair, in which the Egyp- tian seated himself with the dignity of a priest of Ra. Ilas sank down on a cushion, leaning against her mistress's chair. "What is the end of life?" said Messalina, rest- ing her chin on her hand and looking fixedly at Heliodorus. "Except itself it has no end," he answered. "Life is the end of life." "That is nonsense," said Messalina. "Why, then, do we live?" asked Ilas. "Do we [ 120I Ilas live in order that we may die, or do we live to attain immortality?" "We do not live in order that we may die," answered Heliodorus, who sat like the Sphinx, gazing straight ahead. "We die because we cannot live. If we live in order to attain im- mortality, then we live in order to live, since immortality is life. Life is the end of life." "Ask again, Ilas," said Messalina, who felt that she was less subtle than the Greek. "There must be something in life to make life itself the end, which is to say, desirable." "Each seeks his own good," answered Helio- dorus. "To Epicurus it was temperate pleasure, to Aristippus it was all enjoyment, to Alexander it was power." "And to me?" asked Messalina. "To you," said Heliodorus, "it is the desire of men. To you," he continued, turning to Ilas, "it is love." Messalina laughed a little. "Then our goods are one," she said to the girl. "Let us hope that our desires are not." "There seem to be many ends in life," said Ilas. "To Praxiteles the end was art, to Zeno ['I 2I] Messalina morality, to Socrates wisdom. And each of these was wise." "Each of these was wrong," answered Helio- dorus. "To the great end, life, there are many means. Without art, without wisdom, without morality, one does not live; but of all the phil- osophers the wisest was Epicurus, who divined a means which included all others. Yet pleasure is not the end." "That, too, is nonsense," said Messalina. Heliodorus, having exhausted his platitudes, produced his scrolls. "In your own land," said Messalina, "I saw a philosopher who sat in a cave, saying that he was dead and had attained the end. There, Helio- dorus, was one who lived in order to die." "The man was dead," replied the Egyptian. "The dead can know nothing of the end of life. The philosopher's pride had killed his soul." "I do not understand you," said Messalina, "but I perceive that you are very wise. Listen, Heliodorus. Ilas has told you the hour of my birth. Say now, were the stars propitious?" "Searching in these scrolls," he answered, be- ginning to unroll them on the table, "and draw- S122 Ilas ing the circle of your destiny, I have found Mars in the first sign, which is that of life. Because in this sign the planet of war is ruler, I read pride, courage, force. The metal of Mars is steel. The death to be foreseen from Mars must be by steel." "He is no flatterer, this," said Messalina to Ilas. "Yet I will hear him to the end, since I am dowered with pride and courage." "In the second sign," continued Heliodorus, "I find not Venus, which is its ruler, but Jupiter. Yet in this, which signifies wealth, though the ruler is absent the most beneficent of stars prom- ises good fortune." "True," cried Messalina, "I have known wealth, Heliodorus." The astrologer bowed, but allowed no smile to rob his expression of its mystery. "In the seventh sign, which is that of mar- riage, also of enemies, again I find not Venus, the ruler, but Saturn, most malignant of the stars. Therefore I read estrangement from the marriage partner, secret enemies becoming open foes. Therefore, also, love comes not your way." "How!" cried Messalina angrily. "All these S123J Messalina misfortunes, and no love to lighten the weight of calamity! Take care, Egyptian! Search in your books again." "Wait!" he answered, silencing her by his very impassivity. "I have more to tell. There is the tumult of the passions, which some desire more than love." "You quibble with words," she said. "Prom- ise love, Heliodorus, and I pardon your threats of misfortune." "It is written in the stars. Now, while we speak, the planet of destiny comes between earth and sun. Therefore beware of passion, which often destroys. Moreover, it was a portent that the zodiac hardened the steel of Mars. For I find in the first sign, not alone the ruling planet, but the Ram, which is the ruling constellation. The approach of Mars fills the reader of the stars with dread. In the fate of an Empress he finds it terrible." "What, then, does its approach portend?"' asked Ilas, who all along had said nothing, listen- ing intently. "In the world, fevers, calamities, the excesses of tyrants." But Heliodorus marked the angry L 124 Ilas frown contracting Messalina's brows, and hur- ried on. "There are other things. I read that only a twelfth part of the circle lay between Jupiter and Mars, which is an aspect of good fortune, presaging courage, prodigality, generosity, with the meeting of perils." "Fortunate, you say?" said Messalina. "Perils and prodigality!" "The gods look with more favour on the prod- igal than on the miser, Madam. For the perils you have been given courage to meet them." "True," she replied. "I have met with dan- gers and overcome them with courage." "Between Jupiter and Saturn," continued Heliodorus, "lay five parts of the circle, from which I read charity." He did not add that the aspect was the weakest of all presaging good, which caused Ilas to doubt him for a moment. "Lastly," said Heliodorus, rolling up the scrolls and letting his hands fall at his sides, "lastly, Messalina, I read Mars and Saturn, most malefic of stars, opposed across the circle, which is an aspect terrible and filled with menace. I read bitterness, the courage of despair, words [125 Messalina that are like flames, and impulses that end in death." "Take care!" she cried, springing from her chair and clenching her hands. "Take care, Egyptian, lest the impulse you foresee end in the death of Heliodorus!" But the astrologer faced her tranquilly. "It cannot!" he said slowly. "It cannot! For in my fate, too, Saturn exerts his power, but to the end of long life and security. Besides, over me Mars is without authority, for good or ill. Therefore it is not written that you should kill me." Messalina returned to her chair, silenced by his assurance. "Also, I have not told you all," he continued. "Speak," she said. "I will hear everything." "I have said that Mars approaches," he an- swered. "Therefore passion approaches." "Ah!" said Messalina softly. "You have re- pented, Heliodorus. It is long since I have felt passion for a man. Now I shall live again." He continued, his voice rising from a whisper in a hissing tone: "Pride and daring will increase beyond [ 126 Hlas bounds. The Ram and Mars were together in the sign of life, and Mars approaches." He paused for an instant, fixing his black eyes on her. "Beware of passion, beware of foes; beware, Messalina, of wounds !" Heliodorus was silent, and Messalina, who a moment before had smiled, now shuddered with superstitious fear. "You are a magician," she whispered, forget- ting her dignity in face of the unknown. "Give me a charm against enemies." "I am no magician," answered Heliodorus. "I am only a reader of the stars. I do not threaten misfortune or death," he added, wish- ing to reassure her, for he saw that she was over- come with fear. "I have said no more than that the stars offer a warning, that you beware of wounds and enemies. But, remember, the stars have never lied." Messalina turned to Ilas and whispered fear- fully, "Give him his fee, and let him go." Ilas rose, and crossing to the doorway held back the curtain. "Come with me to Chrysapius," she said. "He will give you a thousand sesterces." Heliodorus resumed the long cloak which dis- [ 127 3 Messalina guised his profession, and on reaching the door turned and bowed profoundly. "I promise you two lovers," he said, "since in you the gifts of Mars are doubled. And they will be passionate, for the planet of passion urges them. And passion, in one of them, burns al- ready like a fever in the blood, one of those I have foretold." Messalina felt her spirits revive at his words. "You speak the truth?" she asked anxiously. He inclined his head. "It would have been easy to declare the stars propitious," he said, "but the subjects of Mars do not love to be deceived. Thus it would have been perilous," he added, acting the courtier for a moment. "Though to Mars you are a subject, to me, Madam, you are as Mars." With a deep obeisance the astrologer left the room. In the corridor outside Ilas spoke to him. "You have embarrassed me, Heliodorus. I promised Messalina that if you could not fore- tell good fortune you would be silent. Now she will be angry." "You need not fear her anger," he replied. "Whoever may cause them, it is certain that you will not receive the wounds that are threatened. [I28] Ilas Do not fear her anger: but, Ilas, fear Messalina's love." At the door of Chrysapius, the eunuch who was the Empress's steward, Ilas left the Egyp- tian, bewildered and a little afraid. She returned to her mistress, whom she found pacing restlessly across the room. Messalina would have been angry with the girl but for the astrologer's parting promise. Instead she was sarcastic. "You must have found the wrong Helio- dorus," she began. "The other is too wise to foretell misfortune to an Empress." Ilas ventured to smile. "He has changed, Madam. Yet his rashness is a proof of his own conviction." "What did you ask him," said Messalina, "be- fore you found Chrysapius?" Ilas flushed a little. "Nothing," she replied. "But I told him that his predictions had embarrassed me." "What was his answer?" asked Messalina. "He told me never to fear that you would hate me, Madam." Messalina broke into a laugh. "He said I am not to hate, but to love. Where L 129J Messalina are my two lovers? If you could find them, Ilas, you would bring me as much happiness as a third. While you were with Heliodorus I thought of all the men in the palace, but, alas l none of them seemed like a lover." Ilas sighed in relief. "Let us look for them," she said, half in a whisper. "Elsewhere," she added. "Where should I look?" asked Messalina, noticing that the girl's eyes sparkled. "Let us be adventurous," said Ilas quickly. "As the Empress it would be hard for you to know your lovers from the flatterers. Let us disguise ourselves, Madam. Be a simple citizen, a plebeian, for one night. Then you will meet as equals the men who throng the streets of the city, and your lovers will not be afraid to reveal themselves." Messalina seized Ilas by the shoulders. "To-night!" she cried. "I cannot wait longer. Venus has inspired you, Ilas. Did not Helio- dorus say that her star was the ruler of your fate?" "He did, Madam," answered Ilas laughing. "Thus will Mars receive aid from Venus." [ 130 ~ Ilas "The sun is setting," said Messalina. "Go to Myronides, Ilas, and tell him that he must him- self command the guard in the Cryptoporticus till the fifth hour of the night. He is discreet, and will keep the secret. We shall leave the palace at dusk." Messalina withdrew to change her robe for the daily banquet, and Ilas sought the officer of the guard, in order to ask him where Myronides might be found. She wondered why the tribune, whose period of duty began at the first hour, was already wait- ing near the guard-room. Myronides bowed as Ilas approached. He wore a plumed helmet, of chased brass heavily gilded, a corselet of over- lapping plates of the same metal, like the feath- ers of an eagle, and high boots laced almost to the knee. A pleated linen tunic, worn under his corselet and reaching half-way to the knee, and a short purple cloak suspended from his shoulders, completed his dress. Round his waist was slung a belt from which hung a sword and scabbard. Myronides was troubled at seeing Messalina's confidante; and Ilas, observing that he looked eagerly toward her, blushed in confusion. "The Augusta desires, Tribune," she said, her voice trembling, "that you command the guard [13I1 Messalina in the Cryptoporticus until the fifth hour." Her glance lingered on his face. His hair was al- most black, like his eyes, which were liquid and passionate, like those Lysippus loved to carve. His nose sprang straight from his forehead, the nostrils expanding delicately. The lips which concealed his white teeth were full and sensu- ous. A slight pallor increased the refinement of his face, but under the excitement of the mo- ment his olive skin reddened a little. Myronides bowed slightly. Though he was courageous, emotion would diminish his self- control. In Ilas he saw the associate of Messa- lina: he felt embarrassed, dreading that she might speak of him to her mistress, and uncon- sciously he tried to please her. "You are a Greek?" he said, recovering his equanimity. "Then I am a countryman. I was born in Athens." "We are kin at least," she answered, "for my parents were Ionians both. But it is long since I saw Andros, and Athens I have never seen." "I saw my home not a year ago," said Myron- ides. "Athens is still the loveliest of cities. But the metropolis lures one back again, like an en- chantress." r132J Ilas "Or like a lover," said Ilas, who for the first time felt an affection for the monstrous city, since it could bring Myronides to her side. The tribune flushed again, fearing that Mes- salina might have sent Ilas to probe his heart. Yet with his anxiety arose a desperate careless- ness, making his passion seem sweetly perilous. He has misunderstood me, thought Ilas, with sudden furious resentment, half against Myro- nides, half against herself. Burning with secret anger, she bade him good-night and withdrew. The tribune was at first alarmed at her abrupt- ness; but his recklessness returned, like a fever in the blood, he thought to himself. Love was a delirium, madness, invincible by its on- slaught . . . The short dusk of early autumn was passing into night when Messalina and Ilas, each wear- ing a dark cloak with a hood which concealed the head and face, descended the stone stairway to the entrance of the Cryptoporticus. In the guardroom at the end, a group of soldiers sat playing dice. Myronides stood outside, convers- ing with a centurion. At the sound of sandals on the steps he was silent and a thrill of delicious excitement passed through his body. E 133 Messalina "You will be discreet, Tribune," said Mes- salina, revealing her face for an instant. She stared a little as the lamplight showed, not a reddening, but a curious paleness in the soldier's face. Ilas, too, who had raised the hood of her cloak, perceived his pallor, and the strange in- tentness of his eyes. A vague dread stole into her heart. Myronides saluted, saying nothing, and they passed into the tunnel. It had been built and amplified by the earlier Caesars until a four- horse chariot could have been driven through it. Shafts had been made in the brickwork arch that formed its roof, to admit air and carry off the smoke of lamps and torches. In this Avernian highway, which, beginning beneath the Palatine hill, branched afterward in many directions, those who were able to perceive spirits had seen disconsolate shades lingering near the arches at which they had been murdered. On this ac- count Ilas feared to see appear through the gloom the figure of Caligula, bleeding from the spears of the mutinous soldiers who had fallen upon him there, on that morning when leaving the arena he took the Cryptoporticus for his road to death. She started, stifling a scream, at [1341 Ilas the sight of a man standing against the wall: it was only a soldier, stationed at the entrance to a smaller tunnel. Suddenly Messalina stopped. "Heliodorus promised me two lovers," she said "one of whom already loved me. I had never thought of Myronides." Ilas grew cold with terror, and forgot Cali- gula. "What ails you?" asked Messalina, astonished at her silence. The girl regained her self-control with an effort. "The soldier, there-he reminded me of Cali- gula. The place makes me shudder," she an- swered, trying to control her shaking voice. "What are you afraid of!" Messalina ex- claimed irritably. '"Are there not guards at every turn?" "Yes, yes-I am foolish," said Ilas hastily. "Let us go on, Madam." They proceeded along the tunnel, but Ilas's feet seemed to drag behind her. "You had never thought of Myronides," she said, after they had walked a few paces. "Are you disappointed then with Heliodorus, Madam?" Messalina Messalina thought for a moment. "Not yet," she answered. "He oromised a second lover." Ilas' heart began to beat again, urged by a sudden hope. If Messalina could find another Mnester, she would forget Myronides; and he, unnoticed, would be forced to forget his pas- sion. Infatuation, being ignored, would pass quickly. And then, she dared to hope, he might seek comfort and look for love from Messalina's anti-type. "There can be no pleasure in a lover whom one has lived with," she said, "and never thought of as a lover." "None, indeed," agreed Messalina, who was often dominated by Ilas, paying unconsciously the homage of force to subtlety. "Perhaps," the girl continued, determined to save Myronides, "this road leads you to a love which will make that you held for Mnester seem a child's affection." "He promised such a love," answered Messa- lina, whose mind was governed by the astrologer. "Here are the steps. Show the guard this seal." Ilas took the ring and held it before the eyes of the centurion in command. Recognizing the [136] Ilas device, he bowed profoundly, ordering a soldier to unbar the door. They passed through, and mounting another stairway came into a tiny courtyard. The house to which it belonged was occupied by a trusted servant of Claudius. He came to meet them and, asking no questions, led them through the atrium to the door. They gained the street, and the Suburra lay before them, that crowded region where pleasure rioted to the scandal of moralists. Messalina seized Ilas by the arm. "Forget who you are," she said, her voice trembling with excitement. "We are simple citizens, by occupation daughters of Venus. As such we are certain of welcome here, where the goddess is worshipped with more ardour than in Cyprus. But if one of her votaries wish to sacrifice with you, say you will soon return. Let no one draw you from my side." "Which way shall we take?" whispered Ilas, who loved to feel the thrill of the masker. "The Suburra is before us, the Quirinal beyond, and the Forum lies on our left hand." "The Suburra," said Messalina, "and after- ward, the Forum." Crowds filled already the narrow streets, [ 137 1 Messalina which were lined with tenement houses tower- ing high in the air, each floor projecting above the preceding; so that often lodgers who climbed the precipitous stairs to the attics could pass ar- ticles of food and clothing to neighbours who, like themselves, could afford for rent no more than a hundred sesterces a month. The streets were noisy with the sounds of laughter, song, and revelry, mingled with the cries of quarrellers, and the din was increased by the creak of four-wheeled ox-wagons, which, forbidden to pass before sunset, now entered the city loaded with fruit and vegetables for the markets. Those rooms which gave on the streets were hired by shopkeepers, whose wares en- croached on the pavement to the exclusion of pedestrians. The odour of meals which were being cooked in the public kitchens mingled with those of incense and bathing oils in the shops of Syrian perfume-merchants. Ilas, who, in the hope of Messalina's finding another lover, and in the excitement of wandering disguised, tingled with eagerness, longed to taste the coloured sweetmeats displayed on marble slabs and to buy one of the ravens that swore by Apollo in excel- lent Greek, and by Jupiter in faultless Latin. [ 138] Ilas But Messalina looked for other things and dragged her onward when she was tempted to linger. The street turned into another, slightly wider. Along it to the right ran people who laughed and pointed to the sky, which was illumined by a red glare. Messalina, like a moth drawn to the flame, ran with the crowd, which was increased by drinkers who rushed out of wine-shops, em- bracing the opportunity to avoid paying for their cups. At the end of the street watchmen and soldiers, who formed one of the fourteen cohorts, each of five hundred men, established by Augustus to patrol the city, forced back the onlookers. Ilas contrived to reach Messalina's side, and they stood watching the flames ascend from floor to floor of the wooden structure. The Vigiles, whose soaked blankets had failed to sub- due the flames, contented themselves with saving the possessions of the owners and protecting them from thieves. "If Augustus had used his Vigiles as Crassus used his men," said Messalina, "Caesar would be as rich as Crassus." "How?" asked Ilas, who was not acquainted with the methods of the speculators. S139J Messalina "When Crassus was informed that a house was burning," answered Messalina, laughing at the thought, "he hurried with his men to the owner, and if the house were worth a million sesterces offered him ten thousand. If the man agreed Crassus would order his men to extin- guish the flames and remove the property." "And if the owner should refuse?" asked Ilas. "Then Crassus and his men would depart in indignation: whereupon the owner would run after them crying that the offer was accepted. But Crassus would declare that meanwhile nine thousand sesterces had been consumed by the flames, and pay a thousand for what was left. In this way Crassus became as rich as Croesus." The crowd was crushing the women against the barrier of soldiers. At this moment a man stretched out his arm and pulled back the part of her cloak which concealed Ilas' face. Recog- nizing the danger, and forgetful of the circum- stances, Messalina was thrown into a tempest of anger. "Begone!" she cried furiously. "Away to your kennel!" "To the lupanar, with this daughter of [ 140 Ilas Venus!" the fellow answered, pointing at Ilas. The bystanders began to jeer. "A noble matron," cried one, "detected on a visit to her favourite gladiator!" "Ask her his name," shouted another. "Gasticus, I'll wager!" Messalina's eyes blazed with fury, but Ilas seized her by the arm. "Quick, Madam," she whispered, "let us leave them, or they will discover you. Remember Heliodorus-beware of wounds!" At this moment a man attempted to tear away Messalina's disguise. Instantly she struck him in the face. He cursed her vigorously, but as he raised his arm to repeat the attempt his upflung hand was seized from behind, and two sturdy fellows dragged him backward through the crowd. As he disappeared a man, whose figure had the slenderness of youth, stepped into his place, crying out: "Make way for these ladies!" He had seen a beautiful face and anticipated an adventure. The bystanders, who had observed the action of the two serving men, divined the presence of a patrician and became suddenly tranquil. "The way is open," he said softly; "it is safest [ 141: Messalina to withdraw." At the same time he lowered his cloak a little to reveal the upper part of his face. Messalina, followed by Ilas, moved down the street, the crowd making a passage for her. But she also lowered her cloak below her eyes, giving the young man a smile of gratitude. Her eyes expressed admiration. The crowd closed in be- tween them, but he had comprehended her mean- ing. "Did you see him?" Messalina asked excit- edly. "Did you not think him handsome?" "A very Hermes for beauty," answered Ilas, exultant that Myronides should be forgotten. They hurried onward, and entered the Street of the Silversmiths. As they turned the corner Messalina threw a glance over her shoulder. At the sight of a figure passing under a lamp which burned in a doorway, she clutched Ilas's arm, her eyes alight with excitement. "To the Forum," she said; "we can stand among the columns of the basilica." The Street of the Silversmiths turned into an- other, which brought them at length to the Sacred Way, and the Forum lay beyond. As they passed the tiny Temple of Vesta it [ 142 lHas seemed to Ilas that the young moon was climbing up the side of its conical roof. The Forum, which in the sunlight was brilliant with the re- tinues of senators and loud with the voices of the orators, under the moon was mysterious with shadows. Those who moved silently among its porticoes, which were gorgeous with the riches of the East and the spoils of Hellenic genius, sought other diversions than those of the day- light hours. Under those colonnades, where at noon they had unrolled the manuscripts of Hor- ace and Catullus, men read verses of their own to veiled and laughing women: scarcely a statue that did not provide a place of assignation, and the shadows of triumphal arches encouraged the embraces of lovers. Pausing before the temple of Jupiter Capitoli- nus, which rose like an Olympian palace built by Vulcan on the clouds, Messalina looked behind her to see whether the youth were following. Beside them stretched the Basilica of Julius, vaster than any of the temples. Within its shady porticoes the praetors held their courts of jus- tice; but to-night Messalina was one among many clients who laughed and pleaded at the court of Venus. She drew Ilas behind a massive S43 Messalina column and waited, trembling in the anticipa- tion of adventure. Ilas, yielding to the enchantment of the place, fell to dreaming. On the eastern side rows of fluted pillars soared silver-white to vanish in the gloom of the vaulted roof. Moonbeams made a pattern with their shadows on the pavement of coloured marbles. Ilas smiled to herself, liken- ing the whispering voices of lovers to twitterings of the doves of Venus; and her smile grew wist- ful, as she imagined Myronides coming toward her out of the shadow. The sound of a footstep and Messalina's fierce grasp of her arm reminded her of their purpose. A moment later the young man stood before them. Dropping his cloak to reveal his face, he bowed courteously to both. Messalina's eyes searched his features. Like herself, he differed from the type of his race, being fair. His nose was aquiline, his lips were thick, and his jaw was heavy enough to assure her of his prowess in the combats of love. His eyes danced with gaiety. "A hundred pardons for following you," he said softly. "I was fearful for your safety, see- ing that you were alone." He began by speaking E 144 3 Ilas to Ilas, but, noting the indifference of her eyes, turned to her companion. "We thank you for your solicitude," answered Messalina. "We dreaded the anger of the crowd and waited to receive your protection." Where- upon they smiled at the absurdity of their ex- cuses. He was now assured that he spoke to the mistress and ignored the maid. "I have never seen so beautiful a face in the Forum's crowded square. For this favour I must sacrifice to Venus, begging her to continue it." Messalina thought swiftly. Without the prompting of Heliodorus, she would have de- sired this man; but remembering his words, she was certain that this was the promised love. Her heart leaped exultingly, ardent in approbation. "Make me happy by allowing me to accom- pany you," he said, hoping thus to learn the masker's name. "I thank you," she answered. "Take me to the end of the Street of the Silversmiths." The youth bowed his thanks, showing the gleam of white teeth as he smiled. They moved out of the shadows of the basilica, retracing the way they had come. Ilas, who walked a little 1 145 Messalina behind her mistress, began to hope she might save Myronides. As they walked, the young man whispered compliments, Messalina's sidelong glances provoking him to increasing extrava- gance of speech. At the end of the street they halted. "Must I leave you?" he asked. "Then grant me this favour-that I may meet you again and no later than to-morrow. I am the least patient of men." "You are not in earnest," Messalina answered. "You are a gallant, with a hundred such as- signations, only one of which you keep." "No, by all the gods!" he said quickly. "I have no other and this only will I keep. From to-night I desire to meet no other woman. This I swear by the Styx, the oath even the gods dare not break." "It is a lover's oath, after all," she said jest- ingly, "and the gods do not listen to lovers' oaths." "Then I swear as a man," he protested, "that I desire ardently to meet you as a lover. It is but fair to grant me the opportunity of proving it. To-morrow night," he whispered plead- ingly, "to-morrow night, here where we stand, [ 146J Ilas since it will be to me the dearest spot in Rome." "Perhaps," she answered in pretended hesita- tion. "It may be. I cannot promise." "Tell me I may hope," he said, with sudden earnestness. "Tell me your name," said Messalina. "So I shall be assured that you are serious." He hesitated for a moment, but answered: "If it will assure you that I am in earnest, I shall tell you my name. I am called Caius Silius." Messalina started a little. She knew that Silius represented one of the noblest houses of Rome, and was indeed consul-designate for the succeeding year. "I thank you," she said, and then, "I thank you, Caius." "And your own?" he asked. "That I may not tell you, Caius." Messalina found a new delight in pronouncing his name. "At least, not to-night," she added. "To-morrow night, then. No, I will not be denied. I shall be waiting at this place, at this hour. Till then I shall be wretched between hope and anxiety." S147 3 Messalina Messalina smiled at him reassuringly. "Do not lose hope, Caius. I too shall hope." Turning suddenly she hurried away, Ilas follow- ing, leaving him a prey to doubt and curiosity. They reached the doorway of the house from which they had emerged into the city. At the second knock the old servant unbarred the door, which revolved on pivots set in the step and lintel, and turned it enough to allow them to enter; which done he hastily replaced the bar, in dread of the appearance of one of the royster- ing young nobles who infested the streets at night, and whose enormous retinues enabled them to lay siege to a house, immune from re- prisals. Holding a lamp above his head the man led them to the stairs. For the second time Ilas presented the ring to the guards and they were admitted to the Cryptoporticus. Messa- lina did not speak, for her thoughts were centred on Silius to such an extent that she did not notice Myronides, who stood at the end of the tunnel; but Ilas saw that his face was dark with mingled love and jealousy and a great pang convulsed her heart. She followed her mistress into the palace, and when they reached her apartments Messalina flung herself down on a couch, rest- [ 148 1 Ilas ing her chin on her hands. A smile of exulta- tion straightened a little the drooping line of her lips and her eyes sparkled, gazing intently before her. "Caius," she said softly, "how beau- tiful a name! Yet formerly I was blind to its charm. Caius-Caius-Caius"-she repeated the word, ravished by its insistent sound. Ilas remembered how, when she was a child, she had stirred her imagination by whispering her own name as she lay on her couch in the darkness, and, perceiving that her mistress was already infatuated, she resolved to aggravate her growing madness for Silius. In this way Myro- nides might be forgotten. She poured out a draught of Falernian. "Let us drink to a fortunate consummation!" she said, laughing and holding out the goblet. Messalina seized it and drank greedily. Her eyes began to blaze, and half-panting she cried, laughing deliriously: "To Caius Caesar! Happiness in love and fortune !" "Be careful, Madam," cried Ilas, "there are always listeners." She was startled by this sud- den leap into the future. "Let them listen!" Messalina exclaimed E I49 J Messalina wildly. "Was there not a Caius Caesar once before, though they called him Caligula? If before, why not again?" she said, with a quick- ening breath. "Let them listen, and tell Claud- ius I have drunk to the health of Caligula in Hades." Ilas began to feel the infection of excitement; for she thought that this love for Silius would save Myronides. She poured out more Faler- nian. "Let us drink again!" she cried gaily. "This wine is the nectar of passion. The gods give you joy with Silius!" They drained their cups, their hearts beating high with hopes that sprang from differing causes, though with equal strength. "Another draught, Ilas !" Messalina sprang up from the couch, with flushed face and burn- ing eyes. "To old Heliodorus, who is a magician and moves the stars to bring us love!" "A subtle rascal," laughed Ilas, who remem- bered the two lovers. "I'll wager that at this very moment his mystic robe is laid aside while he pursues through his garden some priestess of L 5so Ilas Isis, whom he has persuaded that the stars have marked her for his love." "Do you think," asked Messalina in aston- ishment, "that Heliodorus could ever so cast aside his dignity?" "I know it. He is like the rest of us, Madam, a pleasure-seeker. His dignity is as much a cloak as the mystical garment he wears for the delectation of his clients. Nevertheless, I drink to him because he is an excellent actor, a veri- table artist in fantasy." "What think you of Caius?" asked Messalina, eager to enjoy the delight of hearing her lover praised. "Do you know, Madam, that he is regarded as the handsomest youth in Rome?" Ilas spoke no more than the truth, for Silius was the de- sire of many a fastidious patrician beauty. To Messalina she compared him with Adonis, but to herself she contrasted him with Myronides. He is shallow, sensual, cruel, she thought; but Myronides is passionate and tender; he desires the ideal Venus, though imagination leads him astray. She felt no compunction in fanning the flame which had sprung up in Messalina's heart. She regretted, indeed, that Silius had a wife. �II Messalina Yet it was probable that the high-born Junia Silana loved others than her husband. Plainly her charm was insufficient for Caius, the masker and seeker of unlawful love. But because she loved desperately Myronides, Ilas determined to forget Junia Silana. "He is without an equal," murmured Messa- lina, who was growing drowsy from the wine she had drunk. "Call none of the slaves, Ilas, but unrobe me here. I am falling asleep," she ad- ded. "Let no one disturb my dreams of Caius." She lay with closed eyes as the girl deftly dis- engaged her garments and unpinned the mass of golden-yellow hair. With noiseless move- ments Ilas drew a silken robe about her mistress and extinguishing all the lamps but one sought her own couch in an adjoining chamber . . . A day passed, very wearily for Messalina. Not even for Mnester had her blood burned so fiercely. The name of Caius was on her lips, his image before her eyes, each moment of the day. Messalina cared little for the responsibili- ties of power. The signing of public documents, the reception of envoys and officials, produced a weariness which she did not try to conceal. She passed her days in private, revelling with licen- [152J Ilas tious companions, or else, disdaining the conven- tions of her class, she passed whole mornings at the barracks of the gladiators, exchanging jests and engaging in mock combats. If the Circus took possession of her fancy, she visited the char- ioteers, examining the horses and joining in the disputes of the factions. She appeared at the nightly banquet of Claudius, and in the amphi- theatre at the frequent spectacles. Sometimes the arrival in the city of a celebrated dancer or a troupe of comedians from Alexandria would draw her to the theatre. But Messalina valued the throne, because she could indulge her desires with the impunity of power. The day was closing as she walked, restless as a tiger, on a terrace which overlooked the city. Ilas was beside her, according to custom. Mes- salina cared nothing for Ilas, but she valued her intelligence; besides, the girl could be trusted to be dumb on subjects requiring secrecy. Though she was rewarded with money and robes, together with a freedom not less than that of any hired secretary, Ilas remembered the limits of Messalina's forbearance. The vast metropolis lay stretched before them, presenting a panorama of mingled ugliness and E1531 Messalina beauty. Crowded against the superb buildings near the Forum rose the tenements of the Sub- urra, the upper floors of neighbouring houses so close together that there was no sign of the streets which wound among them. Yet the re- gion was full of allurement to Messalina, whose eyes sought constantly the place where she had parted from Silius. "But two hours more," she said, "and I shall see him." "Fate is propitious, Madam. Silius is here and Claudius is absent." "Fate owes me some reparation," answered Messalina, with sudden vehemence. "Have I not submitted to the love of Claudius, that Silenus, for nine wretched years? I have had lovers indeed-who would not, condemned to such a husband? But there was little joy in their embraces for me who loathed those that must follow them." "Such a husband is more selfish than one who spies on his wife," said Ilas, smiling at the thought of Claudius's unintended meanness. "Even in his ignorance he robs your joy of its flavour." "I am weary of it all," answered Messalina. "To-night I have liberty-to-morrow he will re- E 154 Ilas turn from Ostia, to load me with his sickening caresses. I am resolved," she added darkly. "I shall have a lover without a husband; or, better, a husband who shall be a lover." Ilas thought that this was just. Though her crimes were monstrous, Messalina was young and beautiful. Given in her sixteenth year to a man already old, and thrown from her nurse's arms into the intoxicating pleasures of the metro- polis, she had yielded to irresistible temptations. So reasoned Ilas, who was always reluctant to sit in judgment on another. Besides, Ilas loathed the drunken Claudius. "I am certain that Silius will be waiting," she said. "His presence will comfort you, Madam. And Claudius will make only a brief stay in Rome, for his works at Ostia are far from com- pletion." They left the terrace, and the wearisome din- ner to officials and distinguished citizens began. When it was ended Messalina left the hall, and the slaves intimated to the guests that they were invited to remain and enjoy the entertainment provided by the dancers and comedians who thronged the palace. Gaining her apartments, '551 Messalina Messalina ordered Ilas to bring the cloaks they had worn on the preceding night. With increas- ing excitement she led the way to the Crypto- porticus. Myronides was at his post in the entrance. Messalina scarcely noticed him, forgetting even her customary smile for his handsome face; but Ilas regarded him closely, her heart aching at his wretchedness. His face was pale and in the dim light his eyes gleamed curiously. As she hastened along the tunnel the girl knew that they strained desperately after the vanishing figure of the Empress. A flood of feelings submerged her heart-jealousy, hatred, desperation, min- gled in a chaos of emotion. Clenching her hands she hurried onward, finding it difficult to keep pace with the other. They reached the street, and began to force their way through the crowds. From night to night, and from year to year, the din of the street-sellers, the laughter in the wine- shops, went on unchanged, or changed only to increase. Men whispered invitations to pleasure in their ears, women walked at their side endeav- ouring to arrange meetings with gallants who had paid them a few sesterces for the service. But Messalina brushed all aside, intent on that [156] Ilas corner of the Street of the Silversmiths. When they came near the place she halted, holding Ilas beside her. A cry of anger broke from her lips. There were many loiterers and passers-by, but of Silius no sign. She trembled with rage at the thought that he might have been playing with her, and her disappointment, after the ex- cited dreams of all the hours since their meeting, left her for a moment without strength. "If he deceives me," she said breathlessly, "I will have him strangled. It is not to be endured!" "There are many men waiting," suggested Ilas, with quick intuition. "Silius may have chosen another disguise. Perhaps he also fears to be disappointed and does not desire to be seen waiting in vain." "Ah !" answered Messalina in relief. "You are clever, Ilas. Try now to discover if Caius be really here. Wait!" she cried suddenly. "I see him! He sees me! Ah! dear Caius, now I know that indeed you love me!" As she spoke, Ilas perceived a young man who walked toward them. He wore a different dress from that in which Silius had previously con- cealed himself, but his figure could not be mis- taken. S'571 Messalina "You have come!" he said, eagerly, halting before Messalina. "I am the most fortunate of men !" "Let us walk," she answered hastily. "I hate the curious eyes of the crowd." "Lead me," said Silius gaily, "I am indiffer- ent whither, if only I stay beside you." "Then I shall lead you to a Roman Daphne," she replied, and began to walk in the direction of the Quirinal Hill. When she felt the tremors of passion, she saw in imagination the groves of Antioch; for it was exquisite to love in cedar arbours where the turf made a green carpet. They entered a street which skirted the base of the Quirinal, and keeping the Campus Martius on the left reached the road which encircled the Pincian Hill. Abutting on the pavement was a high wall, in which was set a massive iron gate. Messalina took a heavy key from beneath her cloak and inserted it in the lock. But Silius started back in sudden alarm, recognizing those Gardens of Lucullus which legend had already begun to people with ghosts. It was folly to re- veal himself to this woman who, masked and nameless, led him confidently to the pleasure- gardens of the Empress. A thousand rumours Eis8J Ilas poured in a flood over his mind and he remem- bered Mnester and Valerius; but the gate swung open, and Messalina stepped within, motioning to Silius to follow. He hesitated, half-inclined to fly. Her sudden imperious gesture brought him to her side, and Ilas followed. Handing her the key Messalina mounted a short flight of steps and led Silius to the edge of a tiny lake. He stood before her, bewildered. A giant oak rose beside the pool and, as its branches swayed in the breeze, long shafts of light played on the water. Messalina stepped backward, and allowing a moonbeam to stream on her face, unfastened the part of her cloak which concealed her features. Silius became confused, and, turning suddenly pale, fell on one knee, remembering the reputation of the Empress and dreading the consequences of fa- miliarity. She enjoyed his embarrassment; but with a sudden smile she said: "Arise, dearest Caius! You have been bold, but in love there is equality." Silius sprang to his feet, suddenly transported. "Your pardon, Madam!" he said, smiling and drawing an approving glance to the whiteness of his teeth. "But I have not been bold, since by 1159J Messalina all the gods I did not know you. Not bold, but fortunate: I am favoured above all other men. May Venus render me worthy of such a distinc- tion." He seized her hand and kissed it passionately. "You are pardoned, my Caius, this being the condition. To-morrow Caesar will return from Ostia. Let nothing keep you from the palace that night." "A sweet condition, Madam!" he cried, all his gaiety returning. "Even if I dared to disobey the Augusta, I could not venture to risk refusal to love." "Tell me, Caius," said Messalina, searching his face with burning eyes, "how comes it that at the nightly banquets your presence has never lightened the tedium?" "It is easily explained, Madam. I have but lately returned to Rome, having served with the legions in Bithynia, and studied with the rhetori- cians in Athens and the East!" "The East?" she said. "Have you visited Alexandria?" "Alexandria, Ephesus, and Antioch." "You have been to Antioch!" she cried, with [ i6oJ Ilas sudden interest. "Tell me, Caius, were your studies performed at the schools, or elsewhere in Antioch? I also have seen the Orontes." Silius smiled. "I have studied in the schools, Madam, but other places charmed me more. I studied the faces at the hippodrome and the dan- cers in the theatres." He paused a moment, knowing perfectly the word she waited to hear. "And Daphne," he said. Messalina gave him a subtle smile. "We share an exquisite memory, Caius. These gardens are worthy to be regarded as the part of another Daphne." For an instant the reference to the gardens, which recalled Valerius, chilled him; but his passion grew in the presence of this woman, whose body was beautiful and whose power made her marvellous. "They are enchanted," he said, keeping his eyes on her face. "When Messalina walks in them they become the Elysian Fields of Caius's dreams." He stood facing her, expectant. He won- dered how he should conduct himself-as a sub- ject before the consort of Casar, or as a lover [I61] Messalina before the mistress who freely promised her favours? Silius thought rapidly, but the quick- ening of his pulses carried him to his decision. "But meanwhile," he whispered, with a new tremor in his voice, "meanwhile, am I subject or lover-do you desire the respect which the Augusta commands, or the ardour of a lover? Now I swear there is no doubt in my own heart!" A smile of delight parted the lips of Messa- lina. She, too, had no doubt. "Love must be free," she said, regarding him with subtle half-closed eyes. "Love is free, Caius. It is for you to choose." For a moment he hesitated, still half-afraid. Perhaps she loved him, for she was swift to love and to hate. But afterward, when her passion was sated, it would be dangerous to share this secret of her past. And then, following his na- ture, he threw prudence to the winds, intent on the moment. He sprang toward her. "I choose thus!" he cried, panting, and seized her in his arms. With a little cry of "Caius, dearest Caius !" she grew languid in his embrace. He rained kisses on her lips and face, gasping [ 162 J Ilas the words that spring to every lover's lips, "I love you, I love you!" Suddenly she freed herself. "Can I trust you?" she asked, her eyes burn- ing close to his own. "I swear it!" he cried, "there is none with whom I would share such happiness. I swear it!" She wound her white arms about his neck. "Then, I love you," she murmured, and press- ing her lips to his clung to him in a sudden shud- der of passion. After a while, exhausted and breathless, she released him. "It is late," she said. "Let us return now, Caius." He placed his arm about her, and they moved slowly toward the gate, where Ilas awaited them, suddenly joyous at the sight of Messalina's glow- ing eyes. They passed through the gateway, and the girl turned the key in the lock, afterward fol- lowing as before. They came to the corner of the Street of the Silversmiths, where Messalina halted. "Here I leave you, dearest Caius, for no longer than till to-morrow. Like yourself I cannot en- dure separation." Messalina "Nevertheless, the time will seem long to me," he replied. "Tell me, will it be many days be- fore Caesar returns to Ostia?" "I think not, Caius. I hope not," she added, smiling. His heart leaped in exultation. "You cannot hope as ardently as I," he pro- tested, while Messalina laughed in pretended incredulity. She held out her hand, and he kissed it lingeringly. "Farewell till to-morrow, Caius. Caesar will not linger in Rome." He bowed and they parted, Silius high with hope at her assurance. Ilas resumed her place at her mistress's side, and, as they walked, hastened to express her hap- piness in Messalina's fortunate love. "It is the magic of Heliodorus, Ilas." "It is fortunate that Casar loves Ostia so well," said Ilas quickly, anxious to have Helio- dorus forgotten, since he had promised two lov- ers. They reached the Cryptoporticus, and pass- ing through it came to the guard-house. With wistful eyes, Ilas perceived the despair in the face of Myronides and yearned to wind her arms round his weary head. But Messalina walked L 164 3 Ilas before, and Myronides' eyes strained after her alone. The mansion on the Palatine rang with song and laughter. A thousand guests crowded the banquet hall, assembled in honour of the return of Caesar, who lolled on a dais at the end. Mes- salina reclined next to her consort, and Silius, wreathed in flowers and exulting in his conquest, laughed beside her. Slaves moved among the feasters, bearing Greek wines and dishes pre- pared by Asiatic cooks who possessed the fan- tasy of poets. Claudius smiled stupidly at all around him. He had just consumed unaided a dish of Ambracian kid stewed in wine, and was in high good-humour. "Call Callisthenes and Dion," he commanded. "It pleases me to hear these fellows dispute," he said to Crispinus, the Prefect of the Praetor- ian guard, who reclined beside him. In reality Claudius desired the opportunity of acting the judge before his courtiers, who never failed to applaud his decisions, as worthy of Minos him- self. The two philosophers appeared, abasing themselves. Callisthenes, who called himself a Cynic and repeated the sayings of Diogenes, car- L 165 J Messalina ried the usual staff, and wore the customary tat- tered cloak. His opponent displayed the out- ward dignity of the Stoics, professing to disdain passion and the senses. "Say now, Callisthenes," cried Claudius, "are you and Dion agreed yet whether the gods be just to men?" "Or only Caesar?" added Dion, with a flatter- ing bow. The Cynic planted his staff firmly on the floor. "A disciple of Diogenes," he answered sourly, "can never agree with one who imitates the Stoics and outdoes the Epicureans. How may a man agree with one who cannot agree with him- self ?" A burst of laughter greeted his sally. "Callisthenes agrees with Casar," cried Dion, stung by the sarcasm. "So he is always right, and avoids the labour of finding an opinion to call his own." Claudius choked with laughter, aware that the sham philosophers were agreed only on the desirability of being invited to a rich man's table. Meanwhile they fell to wrangling. "Narcissus has composed an epigram," a handsome page announced in a shrill voice. [ 166 Ilas "Silence!" cried Crispinus, who owed money to the secretary. "Let us hear it, Narcissus." The latter inclined his head, signifying his assent. But as he disdained to speak himself, a slave recited his lines to the philosophers: "This rage of rogues for righteousness, have done! What matter, if the winged god be kind? Young Eros, foam-born Aphrodite's son, No god but Eros breathes, and he is blind. If him, with both thine eyes, thou cans t'not see, Neither may he whose eyes are blind see thee!" Narcissus, who lent money to every one, was applauded by all. He bowed in thanks, smiling graciously, and resumed his fondling of the page's curls. Messalina turned to Silius with a smile of en- couragement. "All is well, Caius. Another hour, and Clau- dius will have drunk himself into oblivion of everything." Silius laughed gaily. "Not so I!" he exclaimed. "I desire forget- fulness least of all things." [ 167 J Messalina Suddenly the Emperor commanded silence. "Let the cups be filled," he cried thickly, and then, raising his own: "To the divine Augusta, the cherished dove of Claudius!" "Fortune and happiness!" cried the guests, and remembered to drain their beakers to the dregs. Messalina smiled her thanks, somewhat iron- ically. The banquet proceeded, and musicians began to play on flutes and lyres, while Gaditan- ian dancing girls glided among the revellers in the immemorial voluptuous dances of Spain. Claudius leaned across to his wife, leering horribly. "I have been impatient to hold you in my arms, my Valeria," he began. Messalina shivered with loathing, and the ex- pression of her face changed to one of intense chagrin. "I, too, have hated my widowhood, Claudius," she forced herself to say. Her face belied her words, but the Emperor was too heavy with wine to observe it. "Your husband is beside you again, my wood- nymph," said Claudius, with elephantine tender- [ 168 J Ilas ness, and he exasperated Silius by rolling toward her. Dropping one heavy arm about her shoul- ders he drew her to him and kissed her with horrible enjoyment. From this moment Silius hated him, and the angry flush on his face alarmed Messalina. Forgetting her disgust she forced herself to laugh, and determined to de- prive Claudius of the little clearness which his eyes possessed. "Drink to me again," she said, and he obeyed joyfully, consuming a huge goblet of his be- loved Falernian. "Again!" she cried, holding out her cup. "Drink from my own cup, dearest Claudius!" He obeyed again, but to Messalina's chagrin he grew more ardent in his protestations and caresses. Silius lay on his couch panting with rage and jealousy. Why could she not poison him, he muttered, and blame some wretched slave? Had he not called her a nymph, and might not a nymph release herself from the loathed arms of a satyr? Meanwhile, the banquet proceeded, enlivened by the antics of comedians and the symbolical dances of pantomimes. As the last courses were served the ceiling opened, and a shower of rose- S169 ] Messalina petals descended on the guests, their exquisite perfume sweetening the air like a zephyr from their native Paestum. The sound of the flutes died away, the panto- mimes ceased their postures, and the laughter came to an end. The feast was over, and the last toasts were drunk. Rising with the help of his slaves, Caesar sig- nified that the guests were at liberty to depart. Messalina and Silius exchanged a swift glance of exultation, but the smile died on her lips as the Emperor lurched toward Messalina, feasting his filmy eyes on her beauty. "Come, my Valeria !" he said thickly, "your husband's arms await you-your lover's heart is pining for you." Silius ground his teeth in fury and his hand itched for his dagger. Messalina, however, thought swiftly, as always when action was nec- essary. An idea flashed across her brain, ingen- ious though cruel, wicked but vilely amusing. "I am coming, dear Claudius," she said, and raised her arms to remove her garland. "Wait on the terrace," she whispered to Silius, who lingered on the pretext of arranging his cloak. She took her place at Caesar's side, and L I70 Ilas together they moved away to their apartments, treading on the rose-petals. Silius descended the steps to the terrace, fev- erish with the stings of desire and jealousy. Messalina had commanded him to wait. He would be consumed with impatience, and when Claudius had released her and fallen asleep she would come to the arms of love stained by the embrace of a satyr. At this thought Silius groaned. He leapt forward, catching his breath. Mes- salina stood before him, her eyes gleaming, her face expressing the wildest joy. "My love! my Valeria!" He folded his arms about her. "I have escaped from him, Caius," she whis- pered. "Now I am yours alone." "How, Valeria?" he asked wonderingly. "Claudius was importunate. I despaired of sav- ing you from him." "ListenI" she said, smiling with cruel hu- mour. "Claudius is not alone. Neither does he cease to caress his dove, his Valeria." "How?" he asked again. [I7I Messalina "How?" she repeated, with a laugh. "Thus, dear Caius: Ilas plays the part of Valeria." "Ilas!" he exclaimed in astonishment. "Does Claudius love Ilas? Is she not as cold as a Vestal ?" "He loves many," said Messalina contemptu- ously. "To-night he loves me-to-morrow night his choice will fall on Calpurnia or Cleopatra, who languish now at Ostia." "But why did you send Ilas?" asked Silius, beginning to laugh. "I thought she held your confidence. Do you not fear she may betray our secret, my Valeria?" Messalina laughed a little, not very joyously, for some compunction shadowed her content- ment. "This is the reason, Caius. Ilas will be indig- nant, will be furious. But she is a fool and will not seek revenge. As for me, have I not sub- mitted for many wretched years as Ilas submits for this one night? Is she not my slave? And should the mistress suffer more than the slave?" Messalina indulged in sophistry, for her con- science took long to die. Silius sprang backward in alarm as a figure S172 Hlas rushed toward them. It was Ilas, and she flung herself at Messalina's feet, seizing her gown with frantic hands. "I cannot, Madam !" she gasped. "Ah, be piti- ful. I would sooner die!" "You shall die !" cried Messalina, stamping her foot in a tempest of anger. "Back to Claudius. Back to him on the instant. And if he discover the trick, you shall pay the penalty, by all the gods!" "He is a beast," answered the girl, moaning. "I cannot go back. I have served you faith- fully," she whispered. "I have been obedient. I have asked for nothing, I will ask for nothing. Spare me, Madam, there are courtesans enough !" "Though he is a beast," retorted Messalina furiously, "there are fiercer beasts in the arena! For the last time," she said, suddenly calm-"re- turn to Claudius !" Ilas rose, pale and breathless. Messalina turned away and, seizing Silius by the arm, cried in his ear: "Let us seek the Elysian Fields, my Caius! To the gardens of Lucullus!" Arm in arm they rushed from the terrace, seeking the Cryptoporticus. [ 1731 Messalina A coin fell at Ilas's feet, thrown there by Silius as he vanished in the darkness. She looked scorn- fully after them, but gradually her eyes turned to gaze straight before her, though seeing nothing but a steel-blue star. Her agitation passed, and she grew cold in despair. She walked slowly to the palace, aware that she must obey, or die; yet she could not choose to die, she who loved Myronides, and desired to save him. She passed into the columned atrium, abstracted like a sleep- walker. A touch on her arm caused her to halt. She turned and, with a gasp of pain, recognized Myronides. "You are troubled?" he said gently, with swift comprehension and sympathy for the dark-eyed Andrian. "Regard me as your friend," he whis- pered, looking cautiously around him. "Tell me what troubles you-it may be I can give you help." She shuddered, in terror, grief, disgust: her voice deserted her, and she could only move her head in despairing refusal. "Nevertheless," said the tribune, "I am a friend, a countryman, and a dupe of Messalina." Myronides removed his wreath, and unwind- [ 1741 Ilas ing some violets placed them in her hands. He pressed her arm, then walked toward the Crypto- porticus, through which Messalina would come back, alone. Ilas, crushing the flowers against her face, kissed them with pale and fluttering lips; but then, while her eyes followed the vanishing Myronides, she turned wearily to the door of Claudius. 1 175: MYR ONIDES Myronides "IT is for these reasons, Myronides, that Aph- J rodite's star must wane before Astarte's, till the sinister power of Saturn draw your soul from both." The Egyptian simulated the inscrutable expression of the Sphinx. "Many have told me that I might learn my fate with certainty from Heliodorus." All the stoicism of Myronides could not silence the note of anxiety in his voice. "Your art admits no error? You have left nothing out of the ac- count?" "Am I not Heliodorus? Yet I desire to add, Tribune, that before its eclipse the first of these three shall be supreme. Therefore, Clotho will weave into the web of your life a rose-coloured thread of love. Fortune holds for you nothing sweeter than this." Myronides looked up eagerly. "Fortune has nothing sweeter to give!" he exclaimed. Heliodorus, who was reflecting on what he had told Messalina and Ilas, stroked his beard. E 179 ] Messalina "Love is like a flower, Myronides, as the poets are fond of declaring. Its perfume allures us, but the flowers of sweetest perfume produce no fruit and they are bitter to the taste." "But you have promised love, Heliodorus, you have offered consolation, for which I am your debtor. This will assist your studies," added the tribune, placing a piece of gold on the table which supported the outspread scrolls. The soothsayer bowed and Myronides turned to leave. The attendant had drawn back the heavy curtain, on which the circle of the zodiac was embroidered in silver, and the visitor had crossed the threshold, when Heliodorus called softly to him. "You have no further curiosity, Tribune? I have known others in Rome who lived under the sway of Saturn." Myronides paused, suddenly afraid. "I was told that you were also discreet," he answered, coming back into the chamber. "You would not reveal to one what you discover of another?" "One dares not be other than discreet, Tri- bune. Yet I might use my knowledge to warn you of whom you must beware, and betray neither." E I80 Myronides Myronides glanced round the walls. They were hung with Asiatic rugs, but how closely he could not guess: there might be spaces between rugs and walls, and in Rome such spaces were feared. Stepping forward, he lowered his voice almost to a whisper. "Tell me this, then, Egyptian. Under what star might Messalina rule the destiny of one whom she wished to destroy?" A subtle smile played over the features of Heliodorus. "Her fortunes wax and wane with Saturn," he replied. "You have forseen the future, Heliodorus, though you have said that love has a bitter taste. Accept my thanks, and farewell." "Farewell, my youthful Tribune," the Egyp- tian murmured as the curtain fell. "You have realized that to defeat your fate is to lose your love. But face to face with the inevitable, it is better to desire than to fear." It was autumn in Rome, and to Myronides, dreaming on the terrace of the palace, it seemed that the purple of the distant hills might console him for the fading summer, since it carried his SI8I ] Messalina thoughts to Greece, the dear mother of his nature and nurse of his youth. There one might find the calm desired of the passionate soul, and there chaotic reality was made harmonious by art, and habitable to the disciple of beauty. The autumn twilight, rich with the melancholy that follows love and youth, brooded like a tutelary spirit over the terrible city of the Caesars. Myronides won- dered why he had left Athens, which shared the calm of Olympus, to plunge into this vortex of all the currents of life. Yet the Imperial City, cruel as the wolf of Romulus, glowed with the beauty of its eagles. "The Augusta, Tribune!" Decius came out of the shadow. "Her orders are that you bring a guard of ten. Her barge will be on the river to-night." Myronides roused himself. "Pick your men, Decius. At what hour does the Augusta leave the palace?" "When the moon rises, Tribune, and she is brightening the sky already." The soldier saluted and withdrew. "One might have believed that Messalina read my thoughts, since she answered them by Decius." 182 J Myronides And Myronides added bitterly, "But the cen- turion's message would scarcely have been the same. Nevertheless, the Egyptian promised that before Saturn Aphrodite should rule." He tightened his belt and arranged the folds of his cloak. "Only grant, dear goddess, that Messa- lina offer me the flower whose perfume is sweet and whose taste is bitter." The waters of the Tiber were so dark that the moon found in them a perfect mirror. Myro- nides compared them with the crystal rivers of Hellas; and he reflected that the clear stream of life had become turgid with the currents of pas- sion. The barge of Messalina lay moored to the wharf, casting fantastic shadows. Its prow curved up into a golden eagle, and on each bow a great eye was painted, so that the vessel might not plunge blindly through the waves. Along its black sides yawned gilded lions' mouths, through which the oars, like long tongues, licked the water. Myronides heard the sandals of slaves on the marble steps, and at the sound his heart quick- ened its beating. Two negroes from the deserts of Libya led the train of attendants, carrying E 183 1 Messalina the reed pipes of their country. Behind them came other musicians: golden-haired girls from the markets of Corinth and Delos, bearing lyres and lutes; swarthy maidens from Alexandria, swinging the sistrums of Egypt. Myronides' eyes passed over them, scarcely seeing: they burned to meet the proud glance of Messalina, and he feared that his heart's mad throbbing would sound as loudly in the ears of others as it did in his own. Her glance rested on him for a moment, and he thanked the gods that a shadow covered his face, concealing the flush that dark- ened it. Messalina paused at the edge of the platform, and the two Libyans lifted her aboard. With less ceremony they swung the waiting-women on to the deck, and the musicians followed. Myronides gave an order to his men, who dropped lightly from the pier. Two of them offered their shoul- ders, and, placing a hand on each, he leapt after them. Ilas, seated beside her mistress on a couch built in the prow, watched the black water swirling round the oars. Its dark oblivion, she dreamed, could be made to hide Messalina's wickedness and her own shame. They had not spoken of the E 184 J Myronides affair of Claudius; it was a secret they shared with none, not even with Caesar. But to-night they scarcely thought of it: for Messalina had suffered the grief of parting for a while with Silius, and felt that diversion was necessary; and Ilas, seeing Myronides on the barge, and aware that Silius was absent, thought only of the future. From his tower in the stern the steersman directed the slaves at the oars. He commanded them to thrust the vessel from the quay, and it glided out into the stream. The slaves began to row, keeping time to the negroes' pipes. Myronides, who despised the superstitious, had grown tranquil. He now believed that Helio- dorus had deceived him and reproached himself because he had resorted to a professor of divina- tion. Nevertheless, Myronides, who declared that the religion of the people was a myth, cher- ished a myth as his religion: for he thought that the ship of his life, strive as he might with sail and oar, moved whither a current willed it. Ilas rose and came toward him. She might have seemed the sister of Myronides. Sorrow and tenderness shadowed her brown eyes, but he waited only for the message, seeing nothing but [ 185 Messalina the Greek slave-girl whose kinship and sad beauty had moved him to offer her flowers and a gentle word as he passed. "The Augusta desires to speak with you," she said, then turned, he following. He halted be- fore Messalina, and bowed. "Greeting, Myronides," she said. And then, turning to the girl, "Does our tribune merit so beautiful a name, think you, Ilas?" "His name describes Myronides," answered the girl, smiling a little. He was silent, in a confusion that was sweet and terrible. "I have asked Ilas whether she has ever known a Greek so modest." Messalina's eyes increased his embarrassment. They searched his own, and he wondered whether any could read thoughts in the minds of others. "Only the Augusta has observed my modesty," he answered. "Perhaps it is only the Augusta who stirs his modesty." Messalina turned swiftly, but before she could speak the subtle tongue of the Greek turned the edge of her anger. "In Greece they have never known the Im- [ 186 ] Myronides perial presence. Let Myronides stay another year in Rome and I'll wager his modesty will be forgotten." The tribune, wondering at the bitterness in the girl's voice, reflected that Messalina had no man in her train. He was thrilled by a sudden hope, for it was not usual for Messalina to pass her nights in the company of her women. The gulf is vast, he thought, between the Imperial siren and a tribune of the guard. There is no bridge between the cliffs, but below in the gloom runs the Cryptoporticus. He laughed in desperate humour, muttering, "The way to Avernus is easy!" "Tell me of your country, Myronides," said Messalina languidly. "Ilas here would have me believe that nymphs still haunt the Arcadian woods, and that the pipes of Pan still lure the inquisitive shepherd deeper among the moun- tains." "Perhaps they do, Madam, though I have never seen or heard them. Yet I have seen nymphs in Athens and many in Rome." Messalina laughed lightly. "Look, Myronides," she said, rising on her arm, "what do you see, there among the trees?" S187J Messalina The tribune, following her glance, perceived the villa of a patrician, crowning a hill. In the gardens which sloped before it to the water's edge fountains played in groves of ilex and cypress. Winding alleys of greenery had been designed so as to draw the curious wanderer to arbours where statues stood waiting for his praise. But now, as if the sculptor's dreams had waked to motion, white forms were moving in the moonlight. Some, that lay on the turfy bank, would leap up and run swiftly, as if pursued, vanishing through the trees. Myronides laughed in turn. "The nymphs have wandered to Italy. The whole world comes to Rome." "Therein is Rome superior to the rest of the world, even to Egypt, even to Greece. One finds everything desirable within her gates." "True!" Myronides replied. "Did not Sallust say, In Rome all things are for sale?" Messalina laughed again, delighted by his an- swer. Ilas laughed too: had not she herself as- sisted in the arrangement of that chamber in the palace in which, an incredible rumour declared, he who was prepared to pay the price might now purchase the embrace of an Empress? Besides, [ 188 J Myronides Ilas reflected, had not she herself been for sale, and bought? Undoubtedly, the tribune's reply was diverting. "Do you know, Myronides, why the nymphs have fled to Italy?" Messalina, being tigerish, sometimes loved to tease. "I cannot say, Madam," he answered, begin- ning to feel at ease. "I will tell you," Messalina went on. "It was to escape the embraces of the satyrs." And she burst into laughter. "Ah! but they have been misdirected, Madam. Their choice was unfortunate. In Rome the satyrs are more real than the nymphs, and more dreadful than any the Greek shepherd saw leap- ing through the brakes." "They cannot be the true satyrs. I have seen them myself, leaping, not through the brakes in- deed, yet leaping, nevertheless. And they have not the legs of goats. Let us catch one, Myro- nides. We will land where those nymphs are sporting." Myronides turned and gave an order to one of the soldiers, who carried it to the steersman. The vessel was turned and headed up the stream again. E 189 J Messalina "Why did you Greeks picture them so?" asked Messalina, resuming the discussion. "Because we are charitable, Madam," said Myronides, laughing. "Once the poets believed that the satyrs maliciously took the form of men. Then they discovered that many men were satyrs. And so, being charitable, they hide them in that ancient costume when they play the ancient part." "Then we shall land on the bank," she said, "and observe the ancient costume." A small pier of marble was built out into the water, and the steersman brought the ship's prow toward it. At his word of command the lions on one side drew in their scarlet tongues, and the vessel came gently against the steps. Again the gigantic Libyans lifted out their mistress, who ordered Ilas and her other attendants to remain. Myronides she commanded to accompany her with the guards. They mounted the steps and gained the trees; but the nymphs, to whose affrighted vision the glint of armour was more terrible than the glint of a satyr's eyes, had fled with incredible swift- ness. Perhaps Messalina had foreseen their ac- tion, for she showed no anger, but bade Myro- [ 90 o] Myronides nides send his men in search of them, avoiding the villa. This order they obeyed with eager- ness. Messalina paused beside an ancient oak. The moon peered down through its leaves, reminding her of Daphne. She remembered that the arms of Rufinus were rugged like the boughs of an oak-tree, and she shivered, thinking of the cen- turion's sword, which had been bright and silent as a moonbeam. "I am like a poet," she thought, "to-night I am full of fancies. Why should I think of Rufinus, who was a rough soldier of Mars, when this handsome tribune bears the weapons both of Mars and of Venus? He is coming back. Ah! it is as Heliodorus foretold: Mars approaches. Then I should beware of wounds. Yet he prom- ised two lovers. Wounds? Ah, it is a paradox, which Heliodorus could not understand. It is true, Mars approaches, but he will deal the wounds of Venus." Myronides stood beside her. From the river- side the sound of the pipes came softly, like the voice of Messalina, who murmured: "If you were a soldier of the war god, Myro- nides, you would not leave your Empress un- C 1911" Messalzina guarded in the woods. Do you wield better the weapons of Venus? Have you not heard of the amorous and swift-footed fauns? Perhaps, if you wore no golden armour, I should mis- take you for a faun, Myronides. How may I tell that you too, are not one of those amorous sylvans who come into cities in the guise of men, seeking new mistresses?" Passion, mounting like a wave through his tense limbs, through the muscles of his body which grew taut with momentary thrills, dis- solved and absorbed his strength. Irresistible, it tossed him against Messalina, who coiled her arms round his neck. Myronides slipped from her embrace and clasped her knees. After a while she began to chide him, although her eyes were not reproach- ful. "Strange conduct, surely, for a tribune of the guard !" He murmured of his passion, which the Greeks held to be a madness. She did not an- swer, and he thought of Heliodorus. "It is the stars," he whispered. "It is useless to struggle against them. And I had not the will." [ 192J Myronides "Messalina !" He spoke the soft name dreamily. "Messalina !" But still she stood regarding him in silence, and reflecting on what he had done, he began to be afraid. He was weak and languid and his spirits sank. "I loved you desperately, and without hope," he said simply. "I forgot awhile that there was a gulf between the Augusta and a soldier. Love is a madness." Messalina smiled. "The satyrs are gone, Myronides." He looked at her in surprise, though her pre- tence of forgetfulness reassured him. "They are gone from the woods, Myronides, but not from all places. They haunt the very palace of Caesar and at night I tremble at their presence. I am guarded, indeed, though Clau- dius labours for the people at Ostia. But an Empress knows not whom she may trust. There- fore, Myronides, the devotion of a faithful soldier is not to be lightly regarded." She smiled, extending her hand to him. "You shall be the guardian of my bed-chamber, and I shall sleep safe in your fidelity." E 193 3 Messalina Myronides sank on to one knee. He seized her arm and covered it with fierce kisses that left their traces in scarlet. "The soldiers are returning," she said, "and to- night you are fatigued. Three hours after sun- set to-morrow you shall command my guard, escorting me from the feast given to the Par- thian ambassadors." He bowed in silence. The soldiers came back, disappointed, having found nothing but some robes of transparent byssus. Messalina smiled at the sight of them. "The worshippers have sought refuge in the tem- ple of the god," she remarked. "We will re- turn to the palace." Myronides, when his watch was over, walked exultant along the streets, not caring where they led. Under the moon mysterious shadows shrouded the sunken doorways and the entrances to half-lighted courts. Before he had gone far he drew his sword, hearing the footsteps of some one running behind him in the gloom. Twice he turned a corner, and still they followed. He halted, and a man came toward him, holding out something in his hand. Myronides, with sword ready, stepped forward. 1:194: Myronides "Who are you?" he demanded. "What is your errand ?" The man made no answer, but thrust the offer- ing into his hand. It was a wax tablet. Myro- nides became curious as to its message. "Walk before me!" he commanded. They proceeded along the unlighted street till they came to a doorway illumined by a lamp. The tribune held the tablet up to the flame, and read with difficulty: "A friend to Myronides, greeting! At sunrise a vessel leaves for Greece. Board it, or you will never see another depart. I am one who wishes you well." "Do you know what is written here?" he asked the slave. The man nodded. "Then tell me, who is the friend that sent you to me with a warning?" Again the man shook his head, and when the point of the sword approached his throat he opened his mouth, pointing within with his finger. Myronides understood: his tongue was gone. Thus were his masters assured of his dis- cretion. Messalina To the Greek such mutilation was abhorrent. He remembered how the lot of the slave was alleviated in his own home: the shower of petals dropped upon him at the first crossing of the threshold, the honey-cakes at festal seasons, the occasional small rewards of money and holidays. "This for your service," he said, offering the man some coins. "Can you write?" he added in a kindly tone. The slave nodded again. "Then erase this message and write for me, 'Never did Myronides have greater cause to re- main.' " The man bowed, and hurried away. A jealous rival? thought Myronides. But in Rome the missive would have been a dagger. He shared his secret with none but Messalina: therefore it could be only that she desired to test his courage. Besides, the slave wore the tunic of the Imperial household. Myronides went on his way, pleasing himself by imagining the Empress reading his answer, satisfied of his devotion. He knew of no friend in the palace. He came late to his lodging, and sought his couch. But sleep refused to visit him, and when his eyes closed the sun was already edging with pink the grey clouds of the dawn. He had wak- 196 J Myronides ened his slave with an order not to disturb his rest till noon, and at this hour the man roused him, bringing him wine and bread, with a bowl of fruit. He thought the hours had changed their silver feet for leaden, so did he ache with impatience. At sunset Myronides visited the baths, and whis- pered to the negroes who attended him to use their most delicately perfumed oils. He filled their hands with silver, and they tended him with such care that the other bathers became enraged; but they dared not show their anger, for the ar- mour of the Praetorians inspired respect, even awe. The slaves began their ministrations. They purged his skin with vapoury clouds, and when he perspired they plunged him in baths successively warmer till he could endure no more heat. After this they rubbed him with snow brought from the mountains, and smoothed his skin with unguents of exquisite perfume. Refreshed and ardent, he went to the palace. It was not yet time, but his impatience would allow him no rest. On the terrace he indulged in dreams. Within an hour he would walk be- [ 197 1 Messalina side her litter, almost touching her. She would have come from the feast, and feasts always ended in revelry; but he was blinded by his pas- sion, never remembering the crimes of which rumour accused her. He did not think of Mnester, the handsome actor, who had been dragged from the arms of his own love and tor- tured out of a foolish obstinacy; or if he did, it was to regard him as one to be envied. Neither did he remember Priscus, who, as a lover, had entered the palace in the litter of the Empress, and had left it, next morning, by the cloaca, a corpse; or if he did, it seemed that nothing was to be gained by living after reaching the su- preme happiness of life. Of Silius Ilas could have told him: of Messalina's insane passion, which tortured her now that Claudius had com- manded his brief attendance; tortured her so cruelly that diversion was necessary, and indeed ordered by her physician, who understood his mistress, and was therefore favoured; only Ilas dared not. But rather Myronides thought of her hair, dreaming that he saw its waves of pal- lid gold flowing down the ivory body; that he felt her arms, white and rounded, encircling his E 198 Myronides neck, crushing his face against her breasts; and his heart, whose beat was now the throb of pas- sion, would grow faint for a moment, denying him strength. Now at last it was time, and he called for Decius, ordering him to bring a hundred men. For he was a prey to fears, dreading that some- thing would rob him of his joy, nervous at the thought of poison, of assassins, of treacherous foreign envoys. At least he could protect his love from the dangers of the streets. Over cobbled lanes and roads paved with hex- agonal blocks they came to the mansion whose owner was ruining himself lest he should be thought ill-disposed toward the Emperor. The officer of the guard was waiting to be relieved, and retired with his men when Myronides sa- luted him. The feast was over, and slaves were lifting the guests from their couches. From the end of the hall he saw the Empress coming toward her lit- ter, her attendants kicking aside the figures which blocked her path. Flowers were wreathed in her hair, and her eyes were bright with wine. As she entered the litter, giving him no glance [ 199 Messalina of recognition, Myronides' heart sank suddenly. She had forgotten him: but as the curtains were drawn his eyes met hers, and a subtle smile re- assured him, promising happiness. An hour later he walked anxiously to and fro in a courtyard which gave access to her rooms. He could see the figures of the guards, leaning languidly against the distant columns. He moved in dense shadow, for the moon was not yet over the roof, and was just throwing a ray of saffron light on the armour of the soldiers. Al- most suffocated with excitement, he shivered at the thought that the excesses of his imagination might suddenly deprive him of the power of action. Through the darkness a figure came toward him. Formerly he would have given a chal- lenge, but he thought no longer of his duty. It was Ilas, and anguish and terror were in her face. In the shadow Myronides perceived noth- ing. Ilas pointed to a curtained doorway, and with a gesture of despair passed behind him, dis- appearing in the gloom. Myronides advanced, pressing his hands over his heart in an effort to control his breathing. [ 200 J Myronides He parted the curtains and entered the chamber, half-closing his eyes. Messalina, who simulated sleep, reclined on a low couch, the masterpiece of some Greek craftsman. Its legs of bronze were moulded like those of lions, and on the apex of its pedi- ment a gilded eagle spread its wings above the sleeper. She lay half-buried in cushions of Egyptian down, which had become faintly warm from the contact of her body. Beside the couch was spread the skin of a tiger, with head up- raised and teeth apart. Rose petals, strewn on the pillows and heaped on the mosaic floor, mingled their fragrance with incense in a per- fume which, in the swoon of the senses, bore intoxication to the soul. From a tripod of Corin- thian brass a single lamp was suspended, shed- ding a dim illumination on the friezes and panel- ling of the walls, and transforming the statues into shapes that hovered mysteriously in the gloom. It could not reveal to Myronides the name which was inscribed above the doorway, in pretence that Lycisca, the woman of the Su- burra, lived now in a house on the Palatine; or he would have turned away, incredulous that [20I] Messalina Messalina could lie on the couch of Lycisca. As he drew aside the curtains the moon cast an amber-coloured beam on the figure of the sleeper, lending to her skin the lustre of pearls. Myronides grew faint with passion. He let the curtains fall behind him, while a deep sigh escaped from his heart. It was echoed by Mes- salina, who rose on one arm as if awakening. Her gown slipped from her shoulder, disclosing the beauty of her breast. She smiled in delicate allurement, and with a trembling heart he moved toward her. Sinking down beside the couch he bent his head over her arm, kissing it long and ardently. "This tiny lamp leaves half your beauty hid- den, dear Myronides." He could not find his voice. Desire was leap- ing within him. He murmured vaguely that love left him speechless, and that his heart was more eloquent than his tongue. "Indeed I can hear its beating," she replied. "It speaks the language of love." His hands moved over her arm, from which the silken sleeve hung loosely, and his lips fol- lowed them, warming her skin with their fire. Messalina, whom the beauty of flesh could [ 202 J Myronides stir to fantasy, regarded him with half-closed eyes, whispering to herself. "You are as beautiful as a faun, Myronides. For which of the nymphs do you unbuckle this heavy armour? You are like a chryselephantine statue, Myronides. For whom do you discard the plating of gold, so that she may caress the more precious ivory that it conceals?" He remembered Heliodorus, who had said that love was like a flower. Messalina, a flower of passion, expanded slowly: her nostrils di- lated, her eyes grew wide with desire, her lips parted. Myronides inhaled her fragrance, which was her perfumed breath. Like a bee greedy for nectar, seeking her scarlet petals, his mouth found her lips. His arms enfolded her, and his heart, leaping in exultation, hurled the blood into his temples in a surge that swept the warnings of prudence from his brain. Messalina murmured: "This helmet oppresses you, dear Myronides. And ivory is more precious than gold." She unfastened the buckles, and kissed his forehead. Then she pitied the burden of his ar- mour; and when he removed it, she smiled at him, in voluptuous abandonment. [ 203 1 Messalina "His eyes are pools of passion," she thought, "and his soul is drowning in their depths." He leaned forward, panting, and sought her lips. A moment, and he felt himself drawn downward. The arms of Messalina coiled round him, tightening, and he lay within the toils . ... The dreariness of dawn, the grey depression; when the spirits of to-day remain unborn, and the ghosts of yesterday loiter in the shadow of night; when in dull satiety passion will not die, though desire, its life, be gone, as often the body will not die though the soul be fled. At such a time the spirit becomes cold and shudders. Myronides awoke. He had fallen into a heavy sleep, that swoon of weakness after the trans- ports of love. He awoke in weakness, alone, and fear assailed him. Rising hastily from the couch he resumed his armour. He would walk in the colonnade beyond the door. The soldiers often slept at their posts, and none might have noticed his absence. About to part the curtains, he heard the sound of a door opening at the other end of the room, and turning he saw a man standing in the doorway. It was Chrysapius, the eunuch. [ 204 J Myronides He looked as if he fed on oil, so smooth and stout his person, so unctuous the smile on his beardless face. Myronides was alarmed, for the eunuch's errand was always evil. With a deep obeisance the man advanced. "Do I stand in the presence of the Tribune Myronides?" he began, with an insolence that was a warning. "You know me well, Chrysapius." "Yet certainty is required, for the matter is of importance. I am the collector of the Augusta's debts." "You are mistaken, Chrysapius, the Augusta is not a creditor of mine." But fear was stealing round his heart: he knew that humanity was to be found only in the sensuous, and that the as- cetic and the Stoic loved, not men, but princi- ples. Chrysapius owed to men the misfortune visited on the ascetic by nature. Therefore, he loved neither men nor nature, and principles least of all. "The Augusta is my benefactress," said Myro- nides. The eunuch's face expressed surprise. He smiled. "Surely, Tribune, you recognize your E 205 J Messalina surroundings! And recognizing them you will understand my remark." "My surroundings!" he answered uneasily. "I stand in the bedchamber of the Augusta." "The bedchamber? Surely not, Tribunel You stand in the shop which it has been the ca- price of the Augusta to establish." "The shop ?" said Myronides, striving to speak calmly, certain that the eunuch exulted in his horror. "What have you to sell?" "Pleasure," Chrysapius answered, "of a kind truly priceless, though it is necessary to name a price, lest we be besieged with custom. You have been a purchaser, Myronides, and-pardon my importunity, I am but an agent-the price is now due." "I do not understand," said Myronides. Chrysapius pointed to the lintel of the door- way. Letters were painted upon it, and Myron- ides read for the first time a woman's name: Lycisca. "I do not know Lycisca," he said, "but I have slept on the couch of Messalina." "In the character of Lycisca," added Chrysa- pius, smiling in condescension. "But it is in- credible, Myronides, that you should not know L 206 J Myronides Lycisca-you, a tribune, a Praetorian, a wor- shipper of beauty! It is said in Rome that he who has not lain in the arms of Lycisca has so far lived in vain. In her mansion in the Sub- urra she unites the loveliness of Greece with the amenities of Asia." "Then why," he answered, "does the name of Lycisca, the woman of the Suburra, appear in the chamber of Messalina, who lives on the Palatine?" Chrysapius smiled. "It is no more, Tribune, than the device of the trader who attracts custom under the name of a more famous purveyor of his wares. His of- fence, though not justified, is perhaps extenu- ated by the superiority of his merchandise. Yet it is permissible to point out that, since you do not know Lycisca, there can have been no decep- tion. The sale is therefore legal. The price may thus be claimed." "The price!" said Myronides, faintly. "The price!" "The price, Tribune. The fee, if you prefer the word"-and Chrysapius smiled graciously. "And the price, or fee," replied Myronides. [ 207 J Messalina though he knew well the answer, "of what do you demand the fee?" The eunuch assumed the confiding air of an auctioneer. "The fee of the most exquisite meretrix in Rome." Myronides shuddered, and sank down on the couch. He had no answer to make. But Chrysapius desired none at the moment. He wished to speak of terms. "Nothing is so precious as pleasure, Tribune, and you have bought it. For no more than you have received, Milonius parted with his horses, worth a fortune; Anicius with his gardens, worth two fortunes." Myronides sat as if stunned. The eunuch pro- ceeded suavely. "You have heard the terms, Tribune, and I am empowered to consider your own offering." Myronides rose to his feet. "I have neither horses nor gardens," he said. "Yet there are other things: a vase, perhaps, painted by the hand of a master. Such a treas- ure is worth many horses." "I have nothing," he answered. "There are peacocks," said Chrysapius, "the [ 208 J Myronides gilded birds of Juno, and therefore a fitting gift for the divine Augusta. Or a tiger, such as once Porus gave to Olympias, trained to obey com- mands. A serpent from India, made by magic to lie coiled round the limbs of a sleeper, whis- pering wisdom. A beautiful virgin, such as your country is rich in, Myronides-one that would draw custom to the shop of Messalina." "I have nothing, I tell you," he cried. "If I had a vase I would rather shatter it! If I had a slave, bury my sword in her heart! If I had a tiger-ah! I wish that I had a tiger, one that would obey commands!" Chrysapius's manner changed suddenly. His eyes became cruel. "Then you offer nothing," he said. "You hope to receive something, though offering nothing. But so conducted our pleasure-shop would fail. From you another price will be demanded." Myronides knew that the stars were against him and despaired. "With your silence, Tribune, you will dis- charge the debt. And now, Messalina offers you her last favour." Chrysapius turned to the door, to receive a cup [ 209 J Messalina which a woman's hand thrust forward. He ad- vanced, holding it at arm's length. "Drink!" he said. Myronides felt for his sword: the sheath was empty. In his frenzy he grew reckless, shout- ing insults whose truth made them unpardon- able. "I have paid what she earned in the lupanars! Meretrix! Was she not glad to give herself to negroes and the slaves of butchers, who smell of blood !" The eunuch watched him cruelly. "You forget, Tribune, that this little draught is a concession, which may be revoked. Thus you are granted a choice of means." He grew suddenly cold, realizing that it was the end; and that death might come in more hideous form. He fell into despair, which quenched his rage and left him powerless. He desired to die. Even the lust of vengeance passed, and he was no longer maddened by the thought that in his agony she would find delight more sensually dear than the embraces he had given. Chrysapius, holding out the cup, came nearer, declaiming pompously: [210J Myronides "The favoured of the divine Messalina are the beloved of the gods. Menander has said, whom the gods love die young. Drink, Myro- nides!" Pale, weary, with closing eyes, he took the cup. Suddenly he raised it to his lips, and with a gasping cry drained the bitter wine. The eunuch watched him fall, and then, has- tening to the door, he threw it open, and stood aside, making obeisance. "He has paid," said Chrysapius, "and now his lips are sealed. It is necessary to anticipate dan- gers. He has paid," he added, bowing with cyn- ical gallantry. "Most insufficiently, the gods be witness. Yet with all that he possessed." [211] CLA UDIUS Claudius M YRONIDES was dead. The shadows in the Andrian's eyes had grown deeper, so that one could perceive her soul but dimly, hid- ing, like Truth, in the depths of a well of un- shed tears. Over her heart rested the calm of desolation, and in her spirit was the silence of the desert from which life has fled. For awhile, indeed, the necessity of action had resisted the horror that was to freeze her blood. There had been the bargaining with the ghouls who at- tended to such things for possession of Myro- nides' stiffening form. Poppaea's pearls had ob- tained what love had been refused. Persuaded by her bribes, the slaves had borne Myronides to the shop of an embalmer, and there with lov- ing care Ilas had performed the immemorial rites: had combed out the wavy locks, and anointed the limbs with unguents used for kings. In the loneliness of death she had been like a child again, or like a Greek of the childhood of her race. She had clung strangely to the fancies [2I15 Messalina of tradition: had feared lest the unburied form should cause the wailing ghost to wander dis- consolate among the glooms of Acheron, and reverently had placed an obol between the parted lips. Once, as she laboured, the tide of grief surged up and flooded her being, and with tear- less eyes she flung herself on the unthrobbing breast, winding round it arms which through many weary nights had ached to clasp a warm Myronides. Then she grew calm and silent, and continued at her task, only shuddering violently as the embalmers placed the body on the pyre, for she hated the hungry flames. Later she came back, and they gave her some ashes in an urn of carved alabaster. After this she visited a sculp- tor, and told him to purchase a piece of ground on the eastern coast, overlooking the sea, and to build on it a curving marble bench, adorned with sculpture and guarded at each end by a winged lion. She gave him the urn, causing him to swear by the Styx that he would guard it as he would his life, and place it beneath the marble pavement before the tomb. She gave him also a verse to inscribe on the front of the bench, saying that when all was finished she would go and look at his handiwork. For she [216] Claudius had a fancy that she would one day fly from the terrible city, and sit on the bench as if with Myronides, looking across the sea to Athens and that IEgean isle of her childhood. But Myronides was dead, and now Ilas was able to weep, for a hot craving for revenge had thawed the ice of grief that had hardened her breast. With Myronides she had lost her hope, and except that she had possessed nothing. Through the empty house of her heart the des- perate longing for vengeance, which before had never won admittance, raged like a fury clam- ouring for retribution. The degradation of Claudius she had endured, for Myronides' sake; but the killing of her love was an outrage not to be borne. Therefore Ilas burned to destroy this slayer of Valerius, this murderess of Pop- paea, this robber of Myronides. She waited, certain that Silius was the instru- ment of fate; for Messalina's love had become a madness which caused her other passions to ap- pear as the fancies of childhood. At her com- mand Silius had put aside his wife Junia Silana, caring nothing for honour, feeling himself be- yond the dread of retaliation. After this, with incredible recklessness they abandoned them- [2173 Messalina selves to revelry, careless of the spies who watched, and forgetful of Claudius. In Caesar's trust the comedians found an easy device to amuse the populace. Claudius, who stayed in Ostia, happy in his ignorance, had through a cynical fate been honoured with the office of censor. He performed his duties with an ar- dour equal to Cato's. He removed the names of the wicked from the list of citizens, and pro- tected debtors from the extortions of money- lenders, and by night he worshipped Bacchus no less fervently than by day he honoured Justice. And so the days passed, and the autumn came to its full. At sunset, Ilas, as was her custom, watched the cloud-pictures from the terrace. She asked her- self why Messalina had allowed her to live, after her rebellion in the matter of Claudius. It could be due to no tender regret on her mistress's part. She concluded that Messalina's thoughts were devoted to Silius, and that she herself might well be overlooked when Caesar was forgotten. She looked round hastily at the sound of a footstep. Recognizing Narcissus, the Emper- or's secretary, she forced a greeting to her lips, though the man inspired her with fear. He was [218] Claudius about to pass on, too haughty to acknowledge her words, when he noticed on her face the marks of tears. He halted, divining that here might be something useful to the purpose in his mind. The Empress's confidante, alone and in tears! He became cordial. "Come now," he said, smil- ing, "it is Ilas, is it not? Ilas weeping and alone! Some new adversity of fortune, surely l" The girl looked at him for a moment, at his portly figure, his keen grey eyes, his small mouth whose whimsical curves could change into lines of determination, or of cruelty. Feeling that he was not hostile, she spoke from her heart. "Fortune was never aught but adverse," she answered bitterly. "I have observed," he said meaningly, "that you have wept only since the death of a certain tribune, despite the previous adversity of for- tune." "What do you know of Myronides, Narcis- sus?" she asked falteringly, turning pale at the thought of discovery. "I know all that happens," he said, with a subtle smile. "It is supposed, by some, that the tribune poisoned himself for love; but it is known, by others, that the sacrifice was scarcely S219J Messalina voluntary. I know all," he added, with sudden intensity. "Speak! It may be that we have an end in common." Ilas reflected for a moment. There had been a change, she knew, in the relation between the Empress and the freedmen, who once had la- boured loyally together in the duping of Claud- ius. It was rumoured that the freedmen had conspired to resist Messalina's increasing power, but that she had been saved by the timidity of Pallas. Ilas divined that Narcissus had not been turned from his purpose. With sudden intui- tion she perceived an instrument ready to her hand. "I loved Myronides," she said swiftly, her voice growing impassioned. "I loved him, Nar- cissus. Messalina desired him, though of love she knew nothing. He was my very life," she whispered, her voice breaking, "to Messalina no more than a diversion, a toy to pass the time while the other was away. But do not believe that I hoped for his love, Narcissus. Me he scarcely saw, being blinded by his infatuation for the Augusta. And she induced him to speak, torturing me afterward by repeating the words in which he had declared his passion, and when, [ 220J Claudius like another Valerius, he stood in the way of her madness for Silius, she killed him as she did the other, lest Silius should know and be imperilled by his jealousy. Oh!" and she shuddered, cov- ering her face with her hands, "she is a fury, loosed upon us from the underworld." Narcissus remained silent, considering the mo- tives and capacity of the trembling girl. Read- ing courage and resolution in her face he came to a decision. "You have suffered an unpardonable injury, Ilas. I desire to assure you of my indignation at the crime." He paused for a moment. "What now do you desire?" "Revenge!" she answered swiftly. "Ven- geance, justice, retribution, name it as you please; I desire to destroy Messalina!" She ceased, panting. "You shall have it," he replied. "Let us speak without reserve." "Wait, Narcissus! There is one other thing, my freedom." "That can be arranged," he answered, smil- ing. "When Messalina will no longer require your services, no reason can be urged against your manumission." E22IJ Messalina "That is all I desire." "Then I can offer you satisfaction. Let us dis- cuss the possibilities of action. I require an agent, one in whom I may repose confidence. Such a person it is not easy to discover. I have spoken with you because I perceive that your ambitions are mine. It is unnecessary to remind you that my perils are yours." "I am resolved, Narcissus. No danger will deter me." "It is no longer possible, Ilas, that Messalina should continue in her intrigues and I remain in power. I have conferred with Pallas and Cal- listus, but Pallas is afraid, and Callistus remem- bers too keenly his vicissitudes of fortune after the fall of Caligula. Yet I say the time has come for action. They will pay the penalty of stupidity, for this matter of Silius exceeds all bounds." "I have learned, Narcissus, that Messalina is about to divorce Claudius and marry her para- mour. Their adultery has been too easy. She desires to crown her defiance of honour by a scandal of greater magnitude." Narcissus was startled out of his customary [ 222J Claudius calm. "Marriage!" he exclaimed. "You are certain of what you say?" "I am certain, Narcissus," Ilas said contemp- tuously. "Has not all been prepared? Are not the slaves, the furniture, the treasures of Caesar already in the house of Silius? This is known to all. The marriage will be no more than a consummation." "It is true," he said. "Yet I had never be- lieved such folly was possible. More than ever, therefore, is it necessary to act. It is not cred- ible that Claudius should pardon us who knew of his dishonour and would not speak. No, he would believe us privy to the conspiracy. Fox our own safety we must tell Caesar." "We shall excite suspicion, Narcissus," said Ilas. "Let us move away, and speak as we walk." "True," he answered, "we will leave the ter- race." They turned toward the palace, enter- ing by one of the smaller doors. "Claudius is as slow to suspicion as he is swift to vengeance," said Ilas. "Yet he cannot live longer without suspicion." "You must go to him at Ostia, Ilas. There you must terrify him into action, calling me to confirm your charges." E 223 J Messalina "Hush, Narcissus !" whispered the girl, catch- ing at his arm. They were now in the great corridor which opened from the vestibule. She pointed to the end, and through the subdued light of many lamps Narcissus discerned the figures of a man and a woman who entered one of the smaller dining halls. Ilas seized Narcis- sus by his cloak and drew him after her, pausing at the curtains, whose heavy folds filled the door- way, and standing as if in converse lest any passing slave should grow curious and whisper his suspicions to the Empress. They heard the voices of Messalina and Silius, whom long fa- miliarity with danger had made careless. "Our case is desperate, my Valeria," they heard him say. "We have gone too far for any turning back. For me discovery is death-for you, at the least, dishonour. I ask again-let Claudius, the obstacle to our happiness, be re- moved. It would be easy, Valeria. A draught of Falernian, prepared by your physician-what more certain, what less difficult to explain? And then, the throne, and power, and the unshadowed joy of our love." "Yes, Caius," Messalina answered quickly. [ 224 J Claudius "To you, the throne and power. But what of me? Who knows but that when you should be Caesar Valeria might lose her charm?" "But have I not ventured all?" he said. "Have I not put aside Junia, and accepted the double gift of your love and certain death? You are assured of my devotion, Valeria. I urge you, let us celebrate our marriage, and let Claud- ius be thrust aside." "To-morrow, then!" she answered. "The marriage to-morrow, or never. To that I agree, since it is true that now we may not turn back. But of Claudius-of that I must have time to think. The danger is terrible, dearest Caius." Narcissus seized Ilas by the arm, drawing her back with him along the corridor. "It is enough !" he said, his mouth tightening. "It will suffice that we speak the truth to Caesar. Yet it is necessary to wait one day, till this marriage complete their perfidy. Await me here at this hour to-morrow. We will delay no longer, but seek Caesar at Ostia. Till then, fare- well." He turned and was gone, and Ilas sought her chamber, sadly, for vengeance brought her no happiness. [ 225 J Messalina At Ostia all was in readiness. Narcissus and Ilas had made the journey of two hours in a car- riage, leaving the city at the first hour. The sun was scarcely above the eastern roofs as they rode into the town at the Tiber's mouth. Ves- sels of every kind crowded the quays, unloading the food of the hungry metropolis. In mid-har- bour warships rode at anchor, and beyond, tow- ering like a castled island set adrift on the waves, lay the enormous quinquireme in which Claud- ius had made his triumphal return from Britain. It had been built by his command to surpass that vessel of Ptolemy Philopator, which was four hundred paces long, and carried four thousand rowers, four hundred sailors, and three thou- sand men in armour. The air was filled with the shouts of sailors: swarthy Egyptians from the wheat-ships of Alexandria, Syrians from gal- leys which had brought figs from Caesarea, Greeks from Smyrna and the IEgean islands. The carriage forced its way through lines of wagons to the villa of Claudius. "Calpurnia and Cleopatra have been in- structed in their parts," said Narcissus. "They would perhaps have been sufficient; but the ef- E 226 Claudius fect of your appearance, Ilas, will be overwhelm- ing. Caesar is aware that you have possessed the Augusta's confidence. He must be informed that you have left her side but two hours. I shall be waiting for your summons." They left the carriage and mounted the steps before the villa. No sentinel or servant dared to question the omnipotent secretary. Narcis- sus commanded that a chamberlain should be sent for, and within a few moments one of them appeared, bowing and expressing his earnest wishes for the continued health of his lord. "You must obtain an audience for Ilas," said Narcissus. "Inform Caesar that the matter is of supreme importance, affecting his safety and honour." The chamberlain bowed again and hurried away, returning quickly to announce that Caesar would hear the girl. "He is afraid," said Narcissus, with a sneer, "otherwise the matter would have been less easy. Yet on his cowardice all depends." He turned to the chamberlain. "Admit Calpurnia and Cleopatra. They are now waiting without, hav- ing followed my carriage." [227 J Messalina The two courtesans, the favourites of Claud- ius and enliveners of his leisure at Ostia, joined them immediately. As she approached the chamber Ilas, remembering too vividly the night of degradation, shivered with sudden nausea. "Be calm," whispered Narcissus, "but do not fear exaggeration in your speech. Calpurnia and Cleopatra will follow you. Afterward let me be sent for." The chamberlain held back the curtain, and Ilas stepped into the room. Claudius lay on his couch, languid from his debauch of the pre- vious night. She hurried to his side, and falling on her knees seized in her own his fat hand, which moved uneasily. "Caesar!" she cried, her excitement making it unnecessary to simulate fear, "Caesar, you have been betrayed! I have fled from Rome to save you. Messalina has wedded Caius Silius, and the city will soon be in their hands. Rouse your- self, Caesar, they have plotted to have you killed !" Claudius sat up, stupid with astonishment and terror. At this momert the two courtesans en- tered the chamber. [ 228 J Claudius "Have you heard the news?" cried Ilas, turn- ing to them. Calpurnia fell on her knees, af- fecting to weep. "Alas!" she answered, "the rumour is spread- ing throughout the town, exciting the people and the soldiers." "But Valeria?" moaned Claudius, helplessly. "She is my wife, she loves me!" "You have been deceived, Caesar," cried Cleo- patra. "Even in Rome she stole from your side while you slept, and forgot her honour with Silius. It is known now by all." "Let Narcissus be sent for, Caesar." Ilas clutched at his robe as if frantic with apprehen- sion. "He is faithful, Caesar. He has travelled with me to warn you." "Call him, call him!" panted Claudius, re- lieved at the thought of the strong-willed secre- tary. Narcissus hastened into the room, bowing respectfully. "It is true, Caesar, though I de- test to bear such tidings. I crave forgiveness," Narcissus continued cunningly, "that I gave you no warning of your danger. But indeed, Caesar, for so grave a charge the clearest proof is needed, and that I could not offer. Yet there are now [ 229 Messalina abundant witnesses, among the people, the sol- diers, nay the Senate itself. For yesterday the marriage was celebrated like that of any virgin with her lover. I know well that this must seem incredible, that the wife of Caesar should publicly espouse one of her own subjects, her husband absent and all unknowing. Since the penalty is death, they must save themselves by murder." "What should I do, Narcissus?" Claudius asked hoarsely. "I must crave forgiveness," said the secretary, "that I failed to denounce her former lovers, Vettius and Plautius, and many more-not lack- ing in loyalty, Caesar, but knowing well that without proof your love would never let you give credence to such a charge. But now they confess their guilt, and without fear I can take measures for your safety. For Silius, Casar- I would not charge him with adultery. Has he not married Messalina, and can a man commit adultery with his wife? Nor would I deprive him of his palace, nor of his slaves, nor of his riches, nor even of his life, since these things, Caesar, are his own. But let him give back your [ 230 J Claudius wife and your happiness, of which he has robbed you in defiance of honour and duty." "Bestir yourself, Caesar!" Narcissus continued, seeing that Claudius was incapable of action. "Bestir yourself! Hasten to Rome! Do you not realize, Caesar, that you have been divorced? Delay an hour longer, and Silius will be master of the city!" "I will go then, Narcissus," he said weakly, "but with a strong guard. Will the Praetorians support me, think you? If she has corrupted them I am lost. What of the legions?" "The soldiers are loyal, Caesar, but for their leaders I cannot speak. Let me entreat you to place no trust in Geta and Crispinus. I cast no suspicion on their loyalty, indeed, but both are easily swayed. Caesar, you have conferred upon me the sword of honour. It were safer if the command of the Praetorians were entrusted to me, though I am unworthy, for this one day." "Command them, Narcissus," said Claudius hastily. "I desire that you command them." The secretary bowed his thanks. "One more request, Caesar. Grant that I may remain at your side, even in your carriage. I think only of your safety, Caesar." : 23I J Messalina "Remain, Narcissus. I will return at once. Let a carriage be prepared. Call the guards into the villa," he added nervously. "Let the trumpets be sounded." "I shall do so, Caesar," Narcissus answered. "Meanwhile, I crave permission to withdraw. I await couriers from the city." Claudius signified his assent. With a deep obeisance the secretary left the chamber, fol- lowed by Ilas. The courtesans, by his command, remained to comfort the distracted Emperor. "Fortune has favoured us, Ilas," Narcissus cried exultingly. "Yet I shall delay the assem- bling of the escort. Also, they shall march slowly, for I do not desire to reach the city be- fore the ninth hour. Messalina holds a festival to-day in celebration of her nuptials. It is fit- ting that Claudius have the evidence of his eyes. For the moment he is only terrified. Let him see her with Silius, and his fury and jealousy will rouse him to revenge." "Be careful, Narcissus," Ilas answered. "He is the most uxorious of men. It is certain that if she gain his ear the charms of her body will make him forget the stains on her soul. She has [ 232J Glaudius the beauty and the cunning of the serpent, Nar- cissus." "Do not fear," he said. "Have I not asked that I may stay beside him? I too have feared the influence of her beauty." A moment later the trumpets' dreadful clam- our summoned the soldiers. Ilas, bitterly joy- ful, smiled at the sound. She left the villa, and walking to a street where there was a hostelry for the hiring of carriages, handed ten gold pieces to the owner. "Give me a chariot with two swift horses," she said. "I must reach the eastern coast by night fall." The man looked askance for a moment, but turned his eyes to the golden disk. "The driver must return to-morrow," he said, "and the horses must be changed three times. Nevertheless, you pay me well." He hurried away, calling to his slaves, who led two black horses from their stalls and harnessed them on on each side of the pole. Ilas sprang into the chariot, impatient. "A carriage would be easier," said the innkeeper. "This is swifter," she replied. "I am indifferent to discomfort." The man shrugged his shoulders, but heaped [ 233 Messalina some cushions on the floor, signing to the driver to step into his place. They moved out on to the road, the horses' hoofs striking sparks from the cobbles, and turned into a paved highway. Ilas sat as if in a dream, feeling that she had finished with life. The busy world seemed to be fan- tastic and unreal; she was indifferent when they rode through noisy towns, and did not answer the greetings shouted by workers in the vine- yards, where purple grapes hung from the boughs of apple trees. The chariot rolled on- ward, facing the rising sun. In the gardens of Caesar's palace the Wine God held high festival, for Messalina celebrated her nuptials, and gave rein to tempestuous feel- ings in the joy of the Dionysiac frenzy. Beneath the oaks wine-presses crushed the purple grapes, whose precious juice poured from the vats, stain- ing the white feet of half-draped girls. Messa- lina, flushed with wine and brandishing a thyr- sus, led the maddening revel of the Bacchantes who whirled, clad in fawn-skins and crowned with ivy, through the frantic mazes of the Bac- chic dance. "lo evoe!" they cried, leaping with the wildness of manads, laughing as their loos- ened hair streamed behind them. "lo evoe!" [ 234 J Claudius cried the youths who revelled with no less aban- donment, led through the dance by Silius, ivy- crowned like the rest and wearing buskins on his flying feet. From among the oaks' reddening leaves came the scream of flutes, as if Pan with his reeds had leapt up to the dryads to watch the worship of his brother god. Sometimes the vin- tagers would cease, flinging themselves down on the turf, cooling their faces in fragrant violet- beds, and then, as if to calm them, troops of graceful girls danced languorously to the Lydian airs of lute and pipe. At intervals the trumpets would sound a call, and to the quickening clash of the scabellum the revellers sprang to their feet and sped madly through the glades of oak and cypress, rousing the echoes with the weird and passionate cry. In the shrubberies youths in the guise of fauns and satyrs sported with women arrayed like nymphs. Artemis ranged through tiny artificial forests, frightening with blunt arrows the herds of grazing deer, waking the echoes with cheery notes of the horn. Along one of the avenues a procession ap- peared. In the van moved eight priests of Bac- chus, robed in white, two youths dressed like shepherds walking behind them, leading a deer, S235 Messalina which was almost concealed beneath a profu- sion of flowers. A throng of girls and youths followed the victim destined to the sacrifice. In their midst four fauns carried aloft the infant Bacchus, in the person of little Britannicus. The procession halted, and the two sacrificers having led the victim to the feet of the god, one of them raised a knife in the air. But at that moment the horn of Artemis sounded a call, and the deer was permitted to escape into the woods. The crowd of celebrants dispersed with cries and laughter, to reappear in a new procession. Loud fanfares heralded the entrance of the priests, who were followed by troops of Bac- chantes, clad like Amazons and brandishing spears. A throng of girls danced behind the warriors, surrounding the gorgeous chariot of Bacchus, which was drawn by leopards. Silius reclined upon it in the character of the god, and the dancers greeted him by throwing flowers and brandishing their spears. The hours went by, and the sun leaned toward the horizon, painting hill and cloud with the red and gold of autumn. Messalina, exhausted by her dancing, lay on a grassy knoll, her head [ 236 Claudius cradled on the arm of Silius, who played idly on his pipe. "The festival is over, Caius," she said lan- guidly. "Let us dismiss Dionysus and celebrate the sweeter worship of Aphrodite." "It has already begun, my Valeria," he an- swered, pointing to the groups of tired revel- lers who dallied among the trees. Messalina pointed in turn to a young man who climbed among the branches of an oak. "Ho! Vettius," called Silius, laughing, "what are you seeking among the oak-leaves? What can you see?" "What can I see!" echoed Vettius. "I see an ugly squall coming up from Ostia!" "I cannot see it myself," answered Silius, laz- ily, "yet a few drops of rain will do no more than cool your feverishness." "What can be the matter with Vettius?" asked Messalina, for the young man had suddenly leapt to the ground and disappeared among the trees. At that moment the sound of a distant trum- pet, of a hoarser voice than the hunting-horn of Artemis, came faintly on the breeze, and simul- [ 237 1 Messalina taneously Messalina leapt to her feet at the sight of a man who ran with labouring steps from the direction of the palace. "Look!" she cried, in sudden panic. "It is Chrysapius, and he is running!" The eunuch, reaching her, leaned against a tree, panting for breath. "Fly, Madam," he gasped. "The Emperor is coming in haste from Ostia. You have been betrayed, Madam. Caesar has learnt all, and vows vengeance. Fly, before it is too late!" Chrysapius stayed no longer, but staggered from the place. "Caius," she screamed, suddenly frenzied with terror. "He will kill us, Caius. Fly to the Forum! Run, Caius, there is the Cryptoporti- cus !" She sped away through the trees, fol- lowed by Silius, who was speechless with fear. And now a dreadful panic seized the revel- lers, and they rushed wildly about the lawns, crying out that Caesar was upon them, mad- dened by the dread which had lurked under their Bacchic abandonment. The women flung them- selves on the frantic fauns and satyrs, who tore off their fantastic disguises and fled, some toward S238 Claudius the palace, others to the wall which surrounded the gardens. A trumpet blared close by, and a centurion shouted a command: "Over the wall! Let none escape! See to the gateways!" An answering shout came from a hundred throats, and above the wall appeared the hel- mets of the Praetorian guards. Then arose a tu- mult of shrieks, deepened by the hoarser cries of men, as the soldiers leapt down into the gar- dens. The dancers fled hither and thither, pur- sued by the guards, who struggled with the men, and embraced the women, as they dragged them from their hiding-places. "Put on the chains!" the centurion com- manded. With sinking hearts the captives sub- mitted themselves to be bound. Some pleaded for mercy, and others offered bribes to be al- lowed to escape. But the soldiers laughed bois- terously, hailing the entry of more of their fel- lows dragging with them those who had suc- ceeded in scaling the wall, only to be seized as they leapt to earth. "Lead these traitors to the palace," said the centurion, and his soldiers thrust the captives S239 Messalina before them, greeting their prayers with jests and laughter. Now meanwhile, Messalina had fled with Silius and her children into the Cryptoporticus, and gaining the Suburra had dismissed her lover, telling him to go quickly to the Forum. She desired that he should pretend to occupy him- self with business, so that the soldiers might seize him in circumstances which would conceal his guilt. Afterward she hastened to the gardens of Lucullus, taking with her three of her maids who had remained when the others fled. Here in a little while Chrysapius joined her, exhibit- ing this fidelity to his mistress which redeemed him from complete baseness. He told her that Claudius was still beyond the city, having lin- gered on the road from fear lest she should have corrupted the legions within the walls; where- upon Messalina resolved to meet the Emperor as a suppliant, knowing that his heart was merci- ful. She took Octavia and Britannicus by the hand, and telling the servants to remain till she should return, went out upon the southward road which led to the Ostian gate. In this way she trav- ersed the length of the city, weary from her danc- [ 240 ] Claudius ing and faint with fear. She came at last to the gate, and there, growing suddenly weak, she seated herself on a stone by the roadside, giving way to tears. "Your father is coming into the city," she said to the children. "Go forward and meet him, and embrace him, saying that you bring to him your mother's love and duty." The chil- dren left her, and she sat on the stone for awhile, thinking of how she might blind Claudius to her perfidy. A wagon, loaded with refuse from the city, came through the gateway. She ordered the driver to halt, and clambering up beside him commanded him to drive in the direction of Ostia. The man obeyed, wonderingly, for he recognized the Empress, but in silence. And now she saw in the distance the gleam of armour, and knew that Caesar's vanguard was close at hand. Dismounting from the wagon she moved along the road, and walking through the soldiers, who opened their ranks to allow her passage, came at length to the carriage of the Emperor. The horses were stopped, and Claud- ius thrust his head out of the doorway, his face betraying the confusion of his feeling. [ 241 J Messalina Messalina flung herself on her knees, and cried to him from the dust: "Hear me, Casar! In the name of our love, be pitiful. They have conspired to ruin me in your affections. Do not believe them, Claudius, but trust the wife whom you have always loved." Narcissus sprang from his seat, attempting to drown her voice. "Trust the wife who has divorced him!" he cried. "You are the wife of Caius Silius, no longer the chaste spouse of Caesar!" "Do not listen to him," she moaned. "Be just, Caesar! Hear the mother of Britannicus and Octavia !" Claudius gave no answer, but held the hands of his children, who clung to their father, weep- ing, "Read this, Caesar!" cried Narcissus, forc- ing a piece of parchment into the Emperor's hand. "Read the names of her lovers, for they are too many for any man to remember. Go for- ward!" he whispered to the driver, leaning out of the other doorway. The horses leapt forward, leaving Messalina in the dust, her arms outstretched in futile sup- plication. [ 242 J Claudius In this way, despite her prayers, Caesar came into the city, and the secretary had his will. They went first to the mansion of Silius, and as Narcissus led the Emperor through its rooms Claudius grew slowly indignant and ashamed, recognizing the statues, the treasures of art, the very furniture of his palace. "You have been dispossessed, Caesar," said the secretary in a bitter voice, "your treasures belong to Silius. You have been divorced, Caesar, and he possesses your wife." The Emperor's shame and grief grew deeper, till Narcissus led him back to the carriage, and they came to the pal- ace, like instruments of Nemesis, slowly aveng- ing wrongs. The night had fallen. In an arbour within the gardens of Lucullus Messalina, prone upon the ground, sobbed in the agony of fear. Tall cypresses rose in a circle around her, their sombre trunks and interwoven branches shutting out the sky and the stars which comfort the anguished heart. A single lamp relieved the gloom, flick- ering between two trees which stood slightly apart, forming the entrance. Messalina, who in the days of her power had insulted and scorned [ 243 J Messalina her mother, now cried brokenly to Lepida for pity and consolation. She rose and, falling again at Lepida's feet, clasped her knees with frenzied arms. "Consider, Valeria," said her mother, a little wearied by storms of rage and tears, "you have betrayed Claudius and have been betrayed in turn. And I pity you, for you are my child. Yet I may not tell you to hope, or comfort you with any assurance of protection. Caesar has been too deeply wronged. He might have par- doned you a lover, or a single lapse from honour; but he has been divorced, and has returned home to find his wife the wife of a subject. It is not possible that he should pardon this. Therefore, Valeria, though you are my child, I tell you it is better to seek death by your own hands than wait to be dishonoured by those of the execu- tioner." "I cannot, I cannot!" moaned the other. "Do not speak such words. Pity me, give me com- fort!" she cried desperately, clinging to her mother's wrists. "Be calm!" answered Lepida, pale and trem- bling with horror. "I cannot bring you com- fort-would to the gods I might. Claudius will C 244 1 Claudius wreak vengeance, nor will it be on you alone. Do not wait for his soldiers, nor hope for his pity. Shame will compel him to vindicate him- self. Delay not, Valeria!" "Ah! for you it is easy," cried Messalina. "Your life is past, mine lies before me. I can- not die! I cannot die!" Lepida looked at her sadly, even a little coldly. Unable to forget that the woman who shrank now from death had haled many another to his chilly arms, she stood silent, regarding her child with hopeless eyes. After a time Messalina ceased her wailing, and standing before her mother became suddenly calm. "It is useless," she said. "It is written in the stars, and none can escape his fate. Three things Heliodorus told me, that I would love, and love again, and be in peril of wounds. In the two he has spoken truth, and in the third he will not be mistaken. Beware of wounds: it was so that he warned me, being afraid to say more. His words come back to me," she whispered, shuddering. "The weapon of Mars is steel. The death to be foreseen from Mars must come by steel. Give me the dagger. I will defeat their vengeance." C 245 J Messalina But at the sight of it she grew faint, and pressing one hand to her breast thrust the weapon away, shutting her eyes tightly. "I cannot," she said weakly, and trying piti- fully to find some ray of hope. "He said, be- ware of wounds-he did not speak of death- no! not that-not that!" "Alas! Valeria, you deceive yourself," said Lepida, in an agitated voice. "Summon your courage-regain the honour you have lost!" "Ah! You talk of honour," she cried bit- terly. "You talk coldly of honour, and I crave madly for life. What comfort can honour give in death?" "There is no choice left to you," answered Lepida faintly, for the horror of the thing was sapping her strength. "Do not speak to me of death!" cried Messa- lina, her voice rising to a shriek with despera- tion. "I desire life, I tell you-life, life, life!" And she clenched her hands, shaking them be- fore her mother's face. "There is your lover," said Lepida, after a silence. "You do not speak of him. Do you care nothing for his fate?" "Nothing!" she answered, with sudden vehe- [ 246 J Claudius mence. "Would I had never seen his face! He has robbed me of my reason, else I would never have chosen to lose all for the sake of his love. He is a man-he can fly from Rome. He has fled already, like a coward, leaving me to the vengeance of Claudius." She glared in fury, forgetful of her own flight. Lepida sighed wearily, knowing the inevitable end and impatient of the other's cowardice. "It is useless," she said; and then, striving to rouse her daughter by a rhetorical appeal to pride, "You have dishonoured the names of your ancestors, and cast a shadow on the lustre of their fame. I exhort you to find an honourable death, not waiting for the vile hands of the public slave! Die with the courage of a Roman!" But Messalina threw herself on the ground, moaning in the agony of fear. Meanwhile in the palace Narcissus strove to rouse the Emperor to action. Claudius, who had gone to the camp of the Praetorians and told them of his shame, had been heartened by their shouts of indignation and demands for retribu- tion on the guilty. His nature being merciful, he found his anger diminishing with his fear. He dined and drank, and in the contentment of [ 247 J Messalina his physical needs was ready to pardon freely. The fettered revellers he dismissed unharmed, allowing them to kiss his hand in token of peni- tence and thanks; but for certain of the captives Narcissus demanded a trial, being determined on their condemnation. Vettius, accused of hav- ing been a lover of the Empress, confessed his guilt, making no plea for mercy; but Mnester, who had been seized in the theatre and haled before the Emperor, fell on his knees and begged passionately for his life. "Look at these stripes, Cesar," he cried, tear- ing off his tunic and pointing to the scars upon his shoulders. "Does a lover come freely to such a mistress? I swear to you, Caesar, that from the very arms of Poppaea, whom I loved, she dragged me to Antium, answering my en- treaties with a shower of blows. Be merciful, I too have suffered wrongs. She robbed me of my love, she took from me my liberty. Have pity, Caesar, be merciful!" "He can work no harm," said Claudius, turn- ing to the secretary; but Narcissus denounced him bitterly, demanding punishment. "A stage-player!" he said, "a dancer! A pan- tomime, to share the villa of the Augusta! Away C 248 1 Claudius with him, Caesar! The whole city has known of his crime." "Remove him," Claudius assented weakly. Mnester, his epicene nature fainting before the sword, reeled backward into the arms of the soldiers. The curtains fell behind him. "Bring in the other prisoner," commanded Narcissus. The curtains parted again, and Sil- ius entered between two soldiers. Seeing him the Emperor reddened with anger. "Speak!" he said, "and briefly! Your guilt is evident to all-even now to Caesar," he added bitterly. Silius was silent for a moment. His arms were bound behind him, his ankles fettered with chains; but he stood erect, supported by the cour- age of his race and the fortitude of despair. "I am guilty, Caesar. It would be a further dishonour to plead for mercy." "Remove him also!" said Claudius, hardly able to speak for shame, burning under the pity- ing eyes of his soldiers. He rose from the chair, his lips trembling with indignation and the pang of disillusioned affection. Seeking the chamber where so many times, ignorant of the loathing he [ 249 1 Messalina inspired, he had held his wife to his heart, Clau- dius sat miserably on the couch, upon which his tears fell unchecked. His children crept tim- idly into the room, and clinging with their little arms to his enormous body, cried wretchedly. Claudius sat there for a while, holding Britan- nicus to his heart, kissing away Octavia's tears; remembering that day, nine years before, when Messalina had brought to his arms the golden beauty of her youth. In those days she was un- stained by crime. For three years they had lived in happiness, she bearing him the children whom he fondled. He reflected that the gift of un- curbed power might make a profligate of many a Roman maid. He sighed profoundly: he was loth to condemn the mother of his children; afraid to admit the reality of her licentiousness, her slaying of Valerius, her plot against her husband. He sat motionless, incapable of de- cision. With a breath of relief he remembered that his duty was not alone to condemn, but to judge. And how might he judge without hear- ing? He turned to the secretary, who had stood watching him, frowning with vexation. "Enough blood has been shed," he said. "The S250 J Claudius wrong is against me, not to the State. I will hear her to-morrow." Narcissus stepped forward, holding out his hands pleadingly. "To-morrow, Caesar! Surely not to-morrow! Delay but a night, and she will have plotted against you, and my efforts to preserve your safety been in vain!" Narcissus affected to weep, muffling his face in his cloak. "I thank you for your fidelity, Narcissus," answered Claudius. "Nevertheless, it is no longer possible that she should harm me. The army is loyal. I will hear her to-morrow." With a gesture of dismissal Claudius left the room, turning, as always in his weakness, to the wine which left him feebler and the sensuality which stifled his soul. And now Narcissus came to a desperate re- solve. He clapped his hands, and on the appear- ance of Evodus, his freedmarn, who had been waiting, he spoke with him for a while, after- ward telling him to summon the tribune and centurions of the guard. They entered the chamber, saluting him, the day of his authority having not yet passed. "Caesar has retired, Vibidius," he said to the [251 J Messalina tribune. "His heart, which overflows with ten- derness, denied him strength to issue this com- mand." Moving closer to the officer he whispered in his ear. Vibidius started, shrinking back as if in horror; but Narcissus looked at him sternly. "I command you, Vibidius! I command you. It is the will of Caesar." For a moment the tribune hesitated, and then, bowing to the secretary, he led the centurions from the room. The lines of Narcissus' mouth tightened slowly. "He will not remember," he muttered. "I shall say that in his drunkenness he ordered the thing to be done. And to-morrow he will not remember." At the hour of moonrise the chariot reached the coast, and Ilas, having dismissed the char- ioteer, sought the marble bench, which over- looked the sea. She sank down on the pavement, her cheek resting against the winged lion. "I am glad that Selene outshines the stars," she whispered, as if Myronides might hear. "I am tired of the stars, since there is no comfort to read in them. Only Heliodorus was wise. Do we S2521 Claudius live in order that we may die? It was so that I questioned him. And alas! Myronides lived only to die. But he answered, we die because we cannot live. That was true, Heliodorus: I will die, because I cannot live." She turned and read the words which the sculptor had inscribed on the marble, repeating them slowly to herself: "lMyronides, though not in Attic land His wan ghost cries, A downward path found easily at hand Here, where he lies. "Nor urged by LEolus with friendly breath These breakers comb; Yet no wind stirs the sullen seas of death But blows for home." With a breaking heart she prayed to the un- known mysterious gods, hoping that though no other had been heard, this last prayer might reach their ears. "Let me die, you pitying gods, for love I could not win at all, and the revenge I won was empty. Now let me die, for the life I took from [253J Messalina Messalina I cannot give to Myronides. Take mine in turn." She smiled, assured that death would grow kinder: for in the moon's amber glow she per- ceived faces of the dead and beckoning hands. Her thoughts turned to the terrible city, and she murmured: "Farewell at last. Your gods are three, and they are greater than the Olym- pians. Riches, beauty, and death, it is these alone that you have worshipped, not without reason. For thus though you riot you are always rich, grown old in crime you are always beautiful, bringing many to death you are re- warded with immortality. Nevertheless, the god of love, who is weaker than they, is more to be desired." The lamp in the arbour burned feebly, flick- ering on the cypress trunks. On the leaf-strewn earth Messalina, frozen by the chill of despair, lay at Lepida's feet. Through the gloom above pierced no light of any star; no cheerful rustling of nesting birds came from the branches over- head. Round the flame a moth fluttered on burnt and failing wings. Lepida, watching its pitiful struggles, wondered wearily what lured it on to [ 254J Claudius destruction; but as it drew near the lamp the moth seemed to be hurled backward into the darkness. What mystic consummation, she thought musingly, waited in the all-destroying flame? And then with dreadful suddennes3 the silence was broken. From the gate beyond the arbour came the sound of a knocking, loud and im- perious. With a scream of terror Messalina sprang to her feet and stood listening, her breath coming in painful gasps. There was a brief pause, and again the knocking shattered the silence. To the listening women came the noise of bolts drawn back, followed by heavy foot- steps and the faint clash of armour. Messalina shrank against the trees as the tribune appeared in the doorway. Vibidius looked at her, half pityingly, unable to find a greeting. "I am a soldier," he said, as if in defiance of his heart. "Caesar has issued his commands. I have taken an oath to obey." But the wretched soul of Evodus, free only in name, rejoiced in the spectacle of greatness about to fall, sating the envious hatred of a lifetime. At sight of him Messalina forgot her fear for [255J Messalina a moment, roused to fury by the exultation in his face. "So it was Narcissus!" she cried, white with passion. "Tell him, Vibidius, it is fitting that Narcissus the slave should find his envoy in a slave!" Her rage grew tigerish, and seizing the tiny dagger from Lepida she sprang toward the freedman. But Evodus sheltered himself be- hind the more manly form of Vibidius. "Enough, Madam!" said the tribune, inter- posing his sword. Her action recalled her crimes, and deprived her of his pity. "You have but one weapon," he added, more coldly. "If you will plunge it in your own heart you will spare me the task which Caesar has set me. Delay no longer, there is no hope of rescue." He pointed to the centurions, who stood with drawn swords beyond the entrance. "You would not kill me !" she gasped, recoil- ing from him. "It is not the command of Caesar! Caesar has not heard my defence. Vibidius," she whispered, "Vibidius, you will not kill me! Vibidius, I have not been heard." "No, but you have been judged," cried Evodus, with gleeful cruelty. "I have not been heard, Vibidius," she re- i 256 J Claudius peated pleadingly, ignoring the freedman. "It is not like Claudius to condemn before he hears." Her anger had passed, and in her extremity courage deserted her. Falling on her knees she flung out her arms, begging for pity. "Take me to Caesar," she cried, with pallid lips and straining eyes. "Be pitiful, Vibidius! Let me speak with Claudius." "You dare not!" Evodus said to the tribune. And then, turning to the suppliant, he indulged his cruelty. "Remember," he sneered. "You have em- braced with joy many valiant soldiers, who were no more than the swords of Caesar. Do not shrink now from the sword of Vibidius! Em- brace it gladly, you who have always embraced with gladness!" "Peace!" said the tribune, contemptuous of both. He turned to Lepida, who all the time had stood motionless, like one in a dreadful dream. "I pity you, Lepida," he said. "Withdraw if you will-this is no sight for a mother's eyes." But she did not speak, hearing nothing in her despair. [r2571 Messalina Messalina had risen from the ground, realiz- ing that hope was gone, tranquil at last. "I have lived as I desired to live," she said, with something of her former arrogance. The tribune looked at her curiously, wondering at the changes of her temper, confessing the power of her beauty. "Stand back!" she said. "I will die by my own hands. For Claudius, tell him, Vibidius, if you dare, that as Messalina duped him once, so Narcissus fools him now. Carry my defiance to both!" She raised the dagger, and holding it above her for an instant plunged it into her breast. With a little cry she unclosed her hand, stagger- ing back a pace. Vibidius turned pale, hesitat- ing for a moment; and then, springing forward, he lunged with his sword. A gasping breath, a cry from Lepida: under Messalina the leaves ceased to rustle. Vibidius folded his arms, regarding her in silence. "It is finished," he said. "Fate has avenged Valerius Asiaticus." S258 J II SUPPLEMENTARY PUBLISHERS' NOTE The Publishers feel that the charm of Mr. Crockett's delightful reconstruction of the life and conduct of Messalina as portrayed in this book may be made of double interest to the reader by the in- clusion of certain historical matter which will verify the already convincing impression of Mr. Crockett's text. The reader will find in the following pages in the form of supplementary matter selections from Tacitus, Juvenal (Sixth Satire), and Merivale. [261 ] MESSALINA BY TACITUS 1 I. MESSALINA believed that Valerius Asiaticus, who had been twice consul, was one of Poppaea's old lovers. At the same time she was looking greedily at the gardens which Lucullus had begun and which Asiaticus was now adorning with singular magnifi- cence, and so she suborned Suilius to accuse both him and Poppaea. With Suilius was associated Sos- ibius, tutor to Britannicus, who was to give Claudius an apparently friendly warning to beware of a power and wealth which threatened the throne. Asiaticus, he said, had been the ringleader in the murder of a Caesar, and then had not feared to face an assembly of the Roman people, to own the deed, and chal- lenge its glory for his own. Thus grown famous in the capital, and with a renown widely spread through the provinces, he was planning a journey to the armies of Germany. Born at Vienna, and sup- ported by numerous and powerful connections, he would find it easy to rouse nations allied to his 1From "The Annals of Tacitus," Book XI. Translated by Alfred J. Church and William J. Brodribb, Macmillan & Co., London, x888. E 263 J Messalina house. Claudius made no further inquiry, but sent Crispinus, commander of the Praetorians, with troops in hot haste, as though to put down a revolt. Crispinus found him at Baiae, loaded him with chains, and hurried him to Rome. 2. No hearing before the Senate was granted him. It was in the emperor's chamber, in the presence of Messalina, that he was heard. There Suilius accused him of corrupting the troops, of binding them by bribes and indulgences to share in every crime, of adultery with Poppaea, and finally of un- manly vice. It was at this last that the accused broke silence, and burst out with the words, "Ques- tion thy own sons, Suilius; they will own my man- hood." Then he entered on his defence. Claudius he moved profoundly, and he even drew tears from Messalina. But as she left the chamber to wipe them away, she warned Vitellius not to let the man escape. She hastened herself to effect Poppaea's destruction, and hired agents to drive her to suicide by the terrors of a prison. Casar meanwhile was so unconscious that a few days afterwards he asked her husband Scipio, who was dining with him, why he sat down to table without his wife, and was told in reply that she had paid the debt of nature. 3. When Claudius began to deliberate about the acquittal of Asiaticus, Vitellius, with tears in his eyes, spoke of his old friendship with the accused, and of [ 264 1 Supplement their joint homage to the emperor's mother, Antonia. He then briefly reviewed the services of Asiaticus to the State, his recent campaign in the invasion of Britain, and everything else which seemed likely to win compassion, and suggested that he should be free to choose his death. Claudius's reply was in the same tone of mercy. Some friends urged on Asi- aticus the quiet death of self-starvation, but he de- clined it with thanks. He took his usual exercise, and bathed and dined cheerfully, and saying that he had better have fallen by the craft of Tiberius or the fury of Caius Caesar than by the treachery of a woman and the shameless mouth of Vitellius, he opened his veins, but not till he had inspected his funeral pyre, and directed its removal to another spot, lest the smoke should hurt the thick foliage of the trees. So complete was his calmness even to the last. 4. The senators were then convoked, the Suilius proceeded to find new victims in two knights of the first rank who bore the surname of Petra. The real cause of their destruction was that they had lent their house for the meetings of Mnester and Pop- paea. But it was a vision of the night that was the actual charge against one of them. He had, it was alleged, beheld Claudius crowned with a garland of wheat, the ears of which were turned downwards, and, from this appearance, he foretold scanty har- E 265 J Messalina vests. Some have said that it was a vinewreath, of which the leaves were white, which he saw, and that he interpreted it to signify the death of the emperor after the turn of autumn. It is, however, beyond dispute that in consequence of some dream, whatever it was, both the man and his brother perished. Fifteen hundred thousand sesterces and the deco- rations of the proatorship were voted to Crispinus. Vitellius bestowed a million on Sosibius for giving Britannicus the benefit of his teaching and Claudius that of his counsels. I may add that when Scipio was called on for his opinion, he replied, "As I think what all men [think about the deeds of Poppaea, suppose me to say what all] men say." A graceful compromise this between the affection of the husband and the necessities of the senator. iI1. It was during this consulship, in the eight hun- dredth year after the foundation of Rome and the sixty-fourth after their celebration by Augustus that the secular games were exhibited. I say nothing of the calculations of the two princes, which I have sufficiently discussed in my history of the emperor Domitian; for he also exhibited secular games, at which indeed, being one of the priesthood of the Fifteen and praetor at the time, I specially assisted. It is in no boastful spirit that I mention this, but be- cause this duty has immemorially belonged to the [ 266 ] Supplement College of the Fifteen, and the praetors have per- formed the chief functions in these ceremonies. While Claudius sat to witness the games of the cir- cus, some of the young nobility acted on horseback the battle of Troy. Among them was Britannicus, the emperor's son, and Lucius Domitius, who became soon afterwards by adoption heir to the empire with the surname of Nero. The stronger popular en- thusiasm which greeted him was taken to presage his greatness. It was commonly reported that snakes had been seen by his cradle, which they seemed to guard, a fabulous tale invented to match the mar- vels of other lands. Nero, never a disparager of himself, was wont to say that but one snake, at most, had been seen in his chamber. 12. Something however of popular favour was be- queathed to him from the remembrance of German- icus, whose only male descendant he was, and the pity felt for his mother Agrippina was increased by the cruelty of Messalina, who, always her enemy, and then more furious than ever, was only kept from planning an accusation and suborning informers by a new and almost insane passion. She had grown so frantically enamoured of Caius Silius, the hand- somest of the young nobility of Rome, that she drove from his bed Junia Silana, a high-born lady, and had her lover wholly to herself. Silius was not unconscious of his wickedness and his peril; but [ 267 J Messalina a refusal would have insured destruction, and he had some hope of escaping exposure; the prize too was great, and so he consoled himself by awaiting the future and enjoying the present. As for her, careless of concealment, she went continually with a numerous retinue to his house, she haunted his steps, showered on him wealth and honours, and, at last, as though empire had passed to another, the slaves, the freedmen, the very furniture of the em- peror were to be seen in the possession of the paramour. 13. Claudius meanwhile, who knew nothing about his wife, and was busy with his functions as censor, published edicts severely rebuking the lawlessness of the people in the theatre, when they insulted Caius Pomponius, an ex-consul, who furnished verses for the stage, and certain ladies of rank. He intro- duced too a law restraining the cruel greed of the usurers, and forbidding them to lend at interest sums repayable on a father's death. He also conveyed by an aqueduct into Rome the waters which flow from the hills of Simbrua. And he likewise in- vented and published for use some new letters; discovered, as he said, that even the Greek alphabet had not been completed at once. 26. Messalina, now grown weary of the very fa- cility of her adulteries, was rushing into strange ex- E 268 j Supplement cesses, when even Silius, either through some fatal infatuation or because he imagined that, amid the dangers which hung over him, danger itself was the best safety, urged the breaking off of all concealment. "They were not," he said, "in such an extremity as to have to wait for the emperor's old age. Harm- less measures were for the innocent. Crime once exposed had no refuge but in audacity. They had accomplices in all who feared the same fate. For himself, as he had neither wife nor child, he was ready to marry and to adopt Britannicus. Messa- lina would have the same power as before, with the additional advantage of a quiet mind, if only they took Claudius by surprise, who, though unsuspicious of treachery, was hasty in his wrath." The suggestion was coldly received, not because the lady loved her husband, but from a fear that Silius, after attaining his highest hopes, would spurn an adulteress, and soon estimate at its true value the crime which in the midst of peril he had approved. But she craved the name of wife for the sake of the monstrous infamy, that last source of delight to the reckless. She waited only till Claudius set out for Ostia to perform a sacrifice, and then celebrated all the solemnities of marriage. 27. I am well aware that it will seem a fable that any persons in the world could have been so obtuse in a city which knows everything and hides nothing, [ 269 J Messalina much more, that these persons should have been a consul-elect and the emperor's wife; that, on an ap- pointed day, before witnesses duly summoned, they should have come together as if for the purpose of legitimate marriage; that she should have listened to the words of the bridegroom's friends, should have sacrificed to the gods, have taken her place among a company of guests, have lavished her kisses and caresses, and passed the night in the freedom which marriage permits. But this is no story to excite wonder; I do but relate what I have heard and what our fathers have recorded. 28. The emperor's court indeed shuddered, its powerful personages especially, the men who had much to fear from a revolution. From secret whis- perings they passed to loud complaints. "When an actor," they said, "imprudently thrust himself into the imperial chamber, it certainly brought scandal on the State, but we were a long way from ruin. Now, a young noble of stately beauty, of vigorous intellect, with the near prospect of the consulship, is preparing himself for a loftier ambition. There can be no secret about what is to follow such a marriage." Doubtless there was a thrill of alarm when they thought of the apathy of Claudius, of his devo- tion to his wife and of the many murders perpe- trated at Messalina's bidding. On the other hand, the very good nature of the emperor inspired con- E 270 Supplement fident hope that if they could overpower him by the enormity of the charge, she might be condemned and crushed before she was accused. The critical point was this, that he should not hear her'defence, and that his ears should be shut even against her confession. 29. At first Callistus, of whom I have already spoken in connection with the assassination of Caius Caesar, Narcissus, who had contrived the death of Appius, and Pallas, who was then in the height of favour, debated whether they might not by secret threats turn Messalina from her passion for Silius, while they concealed all else. Then fearing that they would be themselves involved in ruin, they aban- doned the idea, Pallas out of cowardice, and Cal- listus, from his experience of a former court, remem- bering that prudent rather than vigorous counsels insure the maintenance of power. Narcissus per- severed, only so far changing his plan as not to make her aware beforehand by a single word what was the charge or who was the accuser. Then he eagerly watched his opportunity, and, as the em- peror lingered long at Ostia, he sought two of the mistresses to whose society Claudius was especially partial, and, by gifts, by promises, by dwelling on power increased by the wife's fall, he induced them to undertake the work of the informer. 30. On this, Calpurnia (that was the woman's S271 J Messalina name), as soon as she was allowed a private inter- view, threw herself at the emperor's knees, crying out that Messalina was married to Silius. At the same time she asked Cleopatra, who was standing near and waiting for the question, whether she knew it. Cleopatra nodding assent, she begged that Nar- cissus might be summoned. Narcissus entreated par- don for the past, for having concealed the scandal while confined to a Vettius or a Plautius. Even now, he said, he would not make charges of adultery, and seem to be asking back the palace, the slaves, and the other belongings of imperial rank. These Silius might enjoy; only, he must give back the wife and annul the act of marriage. "Do you know," he said, "of your divorce? The people, the army, the senate saw the marriage of Silius. Act at once, or the new husband is master of Rome." 31. Claudius then summoned all his most power- ful friends. First he questioned Turranius, superin- tendent of the corn market; next, Lusius Geta, who commanded the praetorians. When they confessed the truth, the whole company clamoured in concert that he must go to the camp, must assure himself of the praetorian cohorts, must think of safety before he thought of vengeance. It is quite certain that Claudius was so overwhelmed by terror that he re- peatedly asked whether he was indeed in possession of the empire, whether Silius was still a subject. C 272 J Supplement Messalina meanwhile, more wildly profligate than ever, was celebrating in mid-autumn a representa- tion of the vintage in her new home. The presses were being trodden; the vats were overflowing; women girt with skins were dancing, as Bacchanals dance in their worship or their frenzy. Messalina with flowing hair shook the thyrsus, and Silius at her side, crowned with ivy and wearing the buskin, moved his head to some lascivious chorus. It is said that one Vettius Valens climbed a very lofty tree in sport, and when they asked him what he saw, re- plied, "A terrible storm from Ostia." Possibly some such appearance had begun; perhaps, a word dropped by chance became a prophecy. 32. Meanwhile no mere rumour but messengers from all parts brought the news that everything was known to Claudius, and that he was coming, bent on vengeance. Messalina upon this went to the gar- dens of Lucullus; Silius, to conceal his fear, to his business in the forum. The other guests were fly- ing in all directions when the centurions appeared and put every one in irons where they found them, either in the public streets or in hiding. Messalina, though her peril took away all power of thought, promptly resolved to meet and face her husband, a course in which she had often found safety; while she bade Britannicus and Octavia hasten to embrace their father. She besought Vibidia, the eldest of L 273 J Messalina the Vestal Virgins, to demand audience of the supreme pontiff and to beg for mercy. Meanwhile, with only three companions, so lonely did she find herself in a moment, she traversed the whole length of the city, and, mounting on a cart used to remove garden refuse, proceeded along the road to Ostia; not pitied, so overpoweringly hideous were her crimes, by a single person. 33. There was equal alarm on the emperor's side. They put but little trust in Geta, who commanded the praetorians, a man swayed with equal ease to good or evil. Narcissus, in concert with others who dreaded the same fate, declared that the only hope of safety for the emperor lay in his transferring for that one day the command of the soldiers to one of the freedmen, and he offered to undertake it him- self. And that Claudius might not be induced by Lucius Vitellius and Largus Caecina to repent, while he was riding into Rome, he asked and took a seat in the emperor's carriage. 34. It was currently reported in after times that while the emperor broke into contradictory exclama- tions, now inveighing against the infamies of his wife, and now returning in thought to the remem- brance of his love and of his infant children, Vitellius said nothing but, "What audacity! what wicked- ness!" Narcissus indeed kept pressing him to clear up his ambiguities and let the truth be known, but E 274 J Supplement still he could not prevail upon him to utter anything that was not vague and susceptible of any meaning which might be put on it, or upon Largus Caecina, to do anything but follow his example. And now Mes- salina had presented herself, and was insisting now that the emperor should listen to the mother of Octavia and Britannicus, when the accuser roared out at her the story of Silius and her marriage. At the same moment, to draw Caesar's eyes away from her, he handed him some papers which detailed her debaucheries. Soon afterwards, as he was entering Rome, his children by Messalina were to have shown themselves, had not Narcissus ordered their re- moval. Vibidia he could not repel, when, with a vehemently indignant appeal, she demanded that a wife should not be given up to death without a hear- ing. So Narcissus replied that the emperor would hear her, and that she should have an opportunity of disproving the charge. Meanwhile the holy vir- gin was to go and discharge her sacred duties. 35. All throughout, Claudius preserved a strange silence; Vitellius seemed unconscious. Everything was under the freedman's control. By his order, the paramour's house was thrown open and the emperor conducted thither. First, on the threshold, he pointed out the statue of Silius's father, which a decree of the Senate had directed to be destroyed; next, how the heirlooms of the Neros and the Drusi [ 275 J Messalina had been degraded into the price of infamy. Then he led the emperor, furious and bursting out in men- ace, into the camp, where the soldiers were pur- posely assembled. Claudius spoke to them a few words at the dictation of Narcissus. Shame indeed checked the utterance even of a righteous anger. Instantly there came a shout from the cohorts, de- manding the names of the culprits and their pun- ishment. Brought before the tribunal, Silius sought neither defence nor delay, but begged that his death might be hastened. A like courage made several Roman knights of the first rank desirous of a speedy doom. Titius Proculus, who had been appointed to watch Messalina and was now offering his evi- dence, Vettius Valens, who confessed his guilt, to- gether with Pompeius Urbicus and Saufellus Trogus from among her accomplices, were ordered to exe- cution. Decius Calpurnianus, too, commander of the watch, Sulpicius Rufus, who had the charge of the Games, and Juncus Virgilianus, a senator, were similarly punished. 36. Mnester alone occasioned a pause. Rending off his clothes, he insisted on Claudius looking at the scars of his stripes and remembering his words when he surrendered himself, without reserve, to Mes- salina's bidding. The guilt of others had been the result of presents or of large promises; his, of ne- E 276 J Supplement cessity. He must have been the first victim had Silius obtained empire. Caesar was touched by his appeal and inclined to mercy, but his freedman prevailed on him not to let any indulgence be shown to a player when so many illustrious citizens had fallen. "It mattered not whether he had sinned so greatly from choice or compulsion." Even the defence of Traulus Mon- tanus, a Roman knight, was not admitted. A young man of pure life, yet of singular beauty, he had been summoned and dismissed within the space of one night by Messalina, who was equally capricious in her passions and dislikes. In the cases of Suilius Casoninus and Plautius Lateranus, the extreme pen- alty was remitted. The latter was saved by the distinguished services of his uncle; the former by his very vices, having amid that abominable throng submitted to the worst degradation. 37. Messalina meanwhile, in the gardens of Lucullus, was struggling for life, and writing letters of entreaty, as she alternated between hope and fury. In her extremity, it was her pride alone which for- sook her. Had not Narcissus hurried on her death, ruin would have recoiled on her accuser. Claudius had returned home to an early banquet; then, in softened mood, when the wine had warmed him, he bade some one go and tell the "poor creature" (this is the word which they say he used) to come on the C 277 J Messalina morrow and plead her cause. Hearing this, seeing too that his wrath was subsiding and his passion returning, and fearing, in the event of delay, the effect of approaching night and conjugal recollec- tions, Narcissus rushed out, and ordered the cen- turions and the tribunes, who were on guard, to ac- complish the deed of blood. Such, he said, was the emperor's bidding. Evodus, one of the freedmen, was appointed to watch and complete the affair. Hurrying on before with all speed to the gardens, he found Messalina stretched upon the ground, while by her side sat Lepida, her mother, who, though estranged from her daughter in prosperity, was now melted to pity by her inevitable doom, and urged her not to wait for the executioner. "Life," she said, "was over; all that could be looked for was honour in death." But in that heart, utterly cor- rupted by profligacy, nothing noble remained. She still prolonged her tears and idle complaints, till the gates were forced open by the rush of the new- comers, and there stood at her side the tribune, sternly silent, and the freedman, overwhelming her with the copious insults of a servile tongue. 38. Then for the first time she understood her fate and put her hand to a dagger. In her terror she was applying it ineffectually to her throat and breast, when a blow from the tribune droie it through her. Her body was given up to her mother. Claudius L 278 J Supplement was still at the banquet when they told him that Messalina was dead, without mentioning whether it was by her own or another's hand. Nor did he ask the question, but called for the cup and finished his repast as usual. During the days which followed he showed no signs of hatred or joy or anger or sad- ness, in a word, of any human emotion, either when he looked on her triumphant accusers or on her weeping children. The Senate assisted his forget- fulness by decreeing that her name and her statues should be removed from all places, public or pri- vate. To Narcissus were voted the decorations of the quaestorship, a mere trifle to the pride of one who rose in the height of his power above Pallas or Callistus. c * c * f * i * * C 279 1 II THE WAYS OF WOMEN BY JUVENAL1 IN the days of Saturn,2 I believe, Chastity still lingered on the earth, and was to be seen for a time -days when men were poorly housed in chilly caves, when one common shelter enclosed hearth and house- hold gods, herds and their owners; when the hill- bred wife spread her silvan bed with leaves and straw and the skins of her neighbours the wild beasts--a wife not like to thee, 0 Cynthia,3 nor to thee, Lesbia,4 whose bright eyes were clouded by a sparrow's death, but one whose breasts gave suck to lusty babes, often more unkempt herself than her acorn-belching spouse. For in those days, when the world was young, and the skies were new, men born of the riven oak,5 or formed of dust, lived dif- ferently from now, and had no parents of their own. Under Jove, perchance, some few traces of ancient 1 Satire VI translated by G. G. Ramsay, LL.D. (Loeb Classical Library), London: William Heinneman; and New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1918. 2 i.e. in the golden days of innocence. 3 The Cynthia of Propertius. 4 The Lesbia of Catullus. 5There was a legend that men had been born from oak- trees. [ 280 J Supplement modesty may have survived; but that was before he had grown his beard, before the Greeks had learned to swear by someone else's head, when men feared not thieves for their cabbages or apples, and lived with unwalled gardens. After that Astraa 1 with. drew by degrees to heaven, with Chastity as her com, rade, the two sisters taking flight together. To set your neighbour's bed a-shaking, Postumus, and to flout the Genius of the sacred couch,2 is now an ancient and long-established practice. All other sins came later, the products of the age of Iron; but it was the Silver age that saw the first adulterers. Nevertheless, in these days of ours, you are preparing for a covenant, a marriage-con- tract and a betrothal; you are by now getting your hair cut by a master barber; you have also perhaps given a pledge to her finger. What! Postumus, are you, you who once had your wits, taking to your- self a wife? Tell me what Tisiphone, what snakes are driving you mad? Can you submit to a she- tyrant when there is so much rope to be had, so many dizzy heights of windows standing open, and when the IEmilian bridge offers itself to hand? Or if none of all these modes of exit hit your fancy, 1 Astrea, daughter of Zeus and Themis, was the last mortal to leave the earth when the Golden Age came to an end; she was placed among the stars as !/irgo. 2 The fulcrum was the head of the couch, often ornamented with the figure of the Genius in bronze. [ 281 J Messalina how much better to take some boy-bedfellow, who would never wrangle with you o' nights, never ask presents of you when in bed, and never complain that you took your ease and were indifferent to his solicitations! But Ursidius approves of the Julian Law.1 He purposes to bring up a dear little heir, though he will thereby have to do without the fine turtles, the bearded mullets, and all the legacy-hunting deli- cacies of the meat-market. What can you think impossible if Ursidius takes to himself a wife ? if he, who has long been the most notorious of gallants, who has so often found safety in the corn-bin of the luckless Latinus,2 put his head into the connubial noose? And what think you of his searching for a wife of the good old virtuous sort? O doctors, lance his over-blooded veins. A pretty fellow you! Why, if you have the good luck to find a modest spouse, you should prostrate yourself before the Tarpeian threshold, and sacrifice a heifer with gilded horns to Juno; so few are the wives worthy to handle the fillets of Ceres, or from whose kisses their own father would not shrink! Weave a gar- land for thy doorposts, and set up wreaths of ivy over thy lintel! But will Hiberina be satisfied with one man? Sooner compel her to be satisfied with 'A law to encourage marriage. 2 An actor who played the part of a lover in hiding. [282 J Supplement one eye ! You tell me of the high repute of some maiden, who lives on her paternal farm: well, let her live at Gabii, at Fidenae, as she lived in her own country, and I will believe in your paternal farm. But will anyone tell me that nothing ever took place on a mountain side or in a cave? Have Jupiter and Mars become so senile ? Can our arcades show you one woman worthy of your vows ? Do all the tiers in our theatres hold one whom you may love without misgiving, and pick out thence? When the soft Bathyllus dances the part of the gesticulating Leda, Tuccia cannot contain herself; your Apulian maiden heaves a sud- den and longing cry of ecstasy, as though she were in a man's arms; the rustic Thymele is all atten- tion, it is then that she learns her lesson. Others again, when all the stage draperies have been put away; when the theatres are closed, and all is silent save in the courts, and the Megalesian games are far off from the Plebeian,' ease their dullness by taking to the mask, the thyrsus and the tights of Accius. Urbicus, in an Atellane interlude, raises a laugh by the gestures of Autonoe; the penniless IElia is in love with him. Other women pay great prices for the favours of a comedian; some will not allow Chrysogonus 2 to sing. Hispulla has 1 The Megalesian games began on the 4th of April and lasted for six days; the Plebeian games took place early in November. 2 A famous singer. [ 283 1 Messalina a fancy for tragedians; but do you suppose that any one will be found to love Quintilian?' If you marry a wife, it will be that the lyrist Echion or Glaphyrus, or the flute player Ambrosius, may be- come a father! Then up with a long dais in the narrow street! Adorn your doors and doorposts with wreaths of laurel, that your highborn son, 0 Lentulus, may exhibit, in his tortoiseshell cradle,2 the lineaments of Euryalus 3 or of a murmillo ! 4 When Eppia, the senator's wife, ran off with a gladiator 5 to Pharos and the Nile and the ill-famed city of Lagos, Canopus itself cried shame upon the monstrous morals of our town. Forgetful of home, of husband and of sister, without thought of her country, she shamelessly abandoned her weeping children; and-more marvellous still-deserted Paris and the games. Though born in wealth, though as a babe she had slept in a bedizened cradle on the paternal down, she made light of the sea, just as she had long made light of her good name-a loss 1 M. Fabius Quintilianus, the famous Roman rhetorician, A.D. 4o-zoo. No grave and learned man like Quintilian will attract them. 2 The conopeum was properly a mosquito-net; here it seems to be used for a bassinette or cradle. 3A gladiator. 4A murmillo was equipped as a Gaulish warrior in heavy armour. He carried the image of a fish in his crest, whence the name ptopp~pos or t.oppXos. 5 Ludus is properly a gladiatorial school, or a troop of gladi- ators. E 284 J Supplement but little accounted of among our soft litter-riding dames. And so with stout heart she endured the tossing and the roaring of the Tyrrhenian and Ionian Seas, and all the many seas she had to cross. For when danger comes in a right and honourable way, a woman's heart grows chill with fear; she can- not stand upon her trembling feet: but if she be doing a bold, bad thing, her courage fails not. For a husband to order his wife on board ship is cruelty: the bilge-water then sickens her, the heavens go round and round. But if she is running away with a lover, she feels no qualms: then she vomits over her husband; now she messes with the sailors, she roams about the deck, and delights in hauling at the hard ropes. And what were the youthful charms which cap- tivated Eppia? What did she see in him to allow herself to be called "a she-Gladiator"? Her dear Sergius had already begun to shave; a wounded arm gave promise of a discharge, and there were sundry deformities in his face: a scar caused by the helmet, a huge wen upon his nose, a nasty humour always trickling from his eye. But then he was a gladiator! It is this that transforms these fellows into Hyacinths! it was this that she preferred to children and to country, to sister and to husband. What these women love is the sword: had this same S285J Messalina Sergius received his discharge, he would have been no better than a Veiento.' Do the concerns of a private household and the doings of Eppia affect you? Then look at those who rival the Gods,2 and hear what Claudius en- dured. As soon as his wife perceived that her hus- band was asleep, this august harlot was shameless enough to prefer a common mat to the imperial couch. Assuming a night-cowl, and attended by a single maid, she issued forth; then, having concealed her raven locks under a light-coloured peruque, she took her place in a brothel reeking with long-used coverlets. Entering an empty cell reserved for her- self she there took her stand, under the feigned name of Lycisca, her nipples bare and gilded, and exposed to view the womb that bore thee, O nobly-born Britannicus! Here she graciously received all comers, asking from each his fee; and when at length the keeper dismissed the rest, she remained to the very last before closing her cell, and with passion still raging hot within her went sorrowfully away. Then exhausted but unsatisfied, with soiled cheeks, and begrimed with the smoke of lamps, she took back to the imperial pillow all the odours of the stews. Why tell of love potions and incantations, of poisons brewed and administered to stepsons, or of 1 Probably the husband. 2 In allusion to the deification of the emperors. s Messalina was the mother of Britannicus, b. A.D. 42. S286J Supplement the grosser crimes to which women are driven by the imperious power of sex? Their sins of lust are the least of all their sins. "But tell me why is Censennia, on her husband's testimony, the best of wives ?" She brought him a million sesterces; that is the price at which he calls her chaste. He has not pined under the darts of Venus; he was never burnt by her torch. It was the dowry that lighted his fires, the dowry that shot those arrows! That dowry bought liberty for her: she may make what signals, and write what love let- ters she pleases, before her husband's face; the rich woman who marries a money-loving husband is as good as unmarried. "Why does Sartorius burn with love for Bibula ?" If you shake out the truth, it is the face that he loves, not the woman. Let three wrinkles make their appearance; let her skin become dry and flabby; let her teeth turn black, and her eyes lose their lustre: then will his freedmen give her the order, "Pack up your traps and be off! you've become a nuisance; you are for ever blowing your nose; be off, and quick about it! There's another wife com- ing who will not sniffle." But till that day comes, the lady rules the roost, asking her husband for shepherds and Canusian sheep, and elms for her Falernian vines. But that's a mere nothing: she asks for all his slave-boys, in town and country; E 287 J Messalina everything that her neighbour possesses, and that she does not possess, must be bought. Then in the winter time, when the merchant Jason is shut out from view, and his armed sailors are blocked out by the white booths,' she will carry off huge crystal vases, vases bigger still of agate, and finally 'a diamond of great renown, made precious by the finger of Berenice.2 It was given as a present long ago by the barbarian Agrippa to his incestuous sister, in that country where kings celebrate festal sabbaths with bare feet,3 and where a long-estab- lished clemency suffers pigs to attain old age.4 "Do you say no worthy wife is to be found among all these crowds ?" Well, let her be hand- some, charming, rich and fertile; let her have ancient ancestors ranged about her halls; let her be more chaste than the dishevelled Sabine maidens who stopped the war--a prodigy as rare upon the earth as a black swan! yet who could endure a wife that possessed all perfections? I would rather have a 1 This passage is thus explained: The lady buys various articles at the feast of the Sigillaria (December 17-20), so called from the statuettes which were then on sale. These and other articles were set out in canvas booths, which were built up against certain public buildings so as to screen them from view. One of these buildings was the Portico of Agrippa on which there were paintings of the Argonauts. Thus "the merchant" Jason and his armed sailors were shut out and could not be seen. 2 Sister to King Agrippa II. (Acts, xxv. 23). 3 Josephus relates that Berenice sacrificed at Jerusalem with dishevelled hair and bare feet. 4 For Jewish abstinence from pork, see Tac. Hist. v. 4. E 288 ] Supplement Venusian wench for my wife than you, O Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi, if, with all your virtues, you bring me a haughty brow, and reckon up Triumphs as part of your marriage portion. Away with your Hannibal, I beseech you! Away with Syphax over- powered in his camp! Take yourself off, Carthage and all! 1 "Be merciful, I pray, O Apollo; and thou, O god- dess, lay down thine arrows. These babes have done naught: shoot down their mother!" Thus prayed Amphion; 2 but Apollo bends his bow, and Niobe 3 led forth to the grave her troop of sons, and their father to boot, because she deemed her- self of nobler race than Latona, and more prolific than the white sow of Alba. For is any dignity in a wife, any beauty, worth the cost, if she is for ever reckoning up her merits against you? These high and transcendent qualities lose all their charm when spoilt by a pride that savours more of aloes than of honey. And who was ever so enamoured as not to shrink from the woman whom he praises to the skies, and to hate her for seven hours out of every twelve ? Some small faults are intolerable to husbands. 1 Alluding to the exploits of the elder Scipio. 2 Husband of Niobe. 3 Wife of Amphion, king of Thebes. Proud of her six sons and six daughters, she boasted herself against Leto, mother of Apollo and Artemis. Indignant at her presumption, they slew all her children with arrows. E 289J Messalina What can be more offensive than this, that no woman believes in her own beauty unless she has converted herself from a Tuscan into a Greekling, or from a maid of Sulmo 1 into a maid of Athens? They talk nothing but Greek, though it is a greater shame for our people to be ignorant of Latin. Their fears and their wrath, their joys and their troubles-all the secrets of their souls-are poured forth in Greek; their very loves are carried on in Greek fashion. All this might be pardoned in a girl; but will you, who are hard on your eighty-sixth year, still talk in Greek? That tongue is not decent in an old woman's mouth. When you come out with the wanton words NA Kai vx, you are using in pub- lic the language of the bed-chamber. Caressing and naughty words like these incite to love; but though you say them more tenderly than a Haemus or a Carpophorus,2 they will cause no fluttering of the heart-your years are counted up upon your face! If you are not to love the woman betrothed and united to you in due form, what reason have you for marrying? Why waste the supper, and the wed- ding cakes to be given to the well-filled guests when the company is slipping away-to say nothing of the first night's gifts of a salver rich with glittering 1 Sulmo, in the Pelignian country, was the birthplace of Ovid. 2 Names of actors. L 290 J Supplement gold inscribed with Dacian or Germanic victories? 1 If you are honestly uxorious, and devoted to one woman, then bow your head and submit your neck to the yoke. Never will you find a woman who spares the man who loves her; for though she be herself aflame, she delights to torment and plunder him. So the better the man, the more desirable he be as a husband, the less good will he get out of his wife. No present will you ever make if your wife forbids; nothing you will ever sell if she objects; nothing will you buy without her consent. She will arrange your friendships for you; she will turn your now-aged friend from the door which saw the be- ginnings of his beard. Panders and trainers can make their wills as they please, as also can the gen- tlemen of the arena; but you will have to write down among your heirs more than one rival of your own. "Crucify that slave!" says the wife. "But what crime worthy of death has he committed?" asks the husband; "where are the witnesses? who informed against him? Give him a hearing at least; no delay can be too long when a man's life is at stake l" "What, you numskull? You call a slave a man, do you? He has done no wrong, you say? Be it so; 1 Alluding to the gold coins (aurei) minted by Trajan in honour of his victories. The aureus was about equal in metal value to our guinea. [291 ] Messalina but this is my will and my command: let my will be the voucher for the deed." Thus does she lord it over her husband. But before long she vacates her kingdom; she flits from one home to another, wear- ing out her bridal veil; then back she flies again and returns to her own imprints in the bed that she has abandoned, leaving behind her the newly decorated door, the festal hangings on the walls, and the gar- lands still green over the threshold. Thus does the tale of her husbands grow; there will be eight of them in the course of five autumns-a fact worthy of commemoration on her tomb! Give up all hope of peace so long as your mother- in-law is alive. It is she that teaches her daughter to revel in stripping and despoiling her husband; it is she that teaches her to reply to a seducer's love- letters in no plain and honest fashion; she eludes or bribes your guards; it is she that calls in Archigenes 1 when your daughter has nothing the matter with her, and tosses off the heavy blankets; the lover meanwhile is in secret and silent hiding, trembling with impatience and expectation. Do you really expect the mother to teach her daughter honest ways -ways different from her own? Nay, the vile old woman finds a profit in bringing up her daughter to be vile. 1A fashionable doctor of the day. [ 292 J Supplement There never was a case in court in which the quarrel was not started by a woman. If Manilia is not a defendant, she'll be the plaintiff; she will herself frame and adjust the pleadings; she will be ready to instruct Celsus 1 himself how to open his case, and how to urge his points. Why need I tell of the- purple wraps 2 and the wrestling-oils used by women? Who has not seen one of them smiting a stump, piercing it through and through with a foil, lunging at it with a shield, and going through all the proper motions ?-a ma- tron truly qualified to blow a trumpet at the Flo- ralia! 3 Unless, indeed, she is nursing some further ambition in her bosom, and is practising for the real arena. What modesty can you expect in a woman who wears a helmet, abjures her own sex, and de- lights in feats of strength? Yet she would not choose to be a man, knowing the superior joys of womanhood. What a fine thing for a husband, at an auction of his wife's effects, to see her belt and armlets and plumes put up for sale, with a gaiter that covers half the left leg; or if she fight another sort 4 of battle, how charmed you will be to see your 1 Either a jurist or a rhetorician. 2 The endromis was a coarse, woollen cloak in which athletes wrapped themselves after their exercises. 3 Games in honour of Flora (April 28-May 3), at which much female licence was allowed. 4 i.e. a gladiatorial contest. [ 293 ] Messalina young wife disposing of her greaves! Yet these are the women who find the thinnest of thin robes too hot for them; whose delicate flesh is chafed by the finest of silk tissue. See how she pants as she goes through her prescribed exercises; how she bends under the weight of her helmet; how big and coarse are the bandages which enclose her haunches; and then laugh when she lays down her arms and shows herself to be a woman! Tell us, ye grand-daughters of Lepidus, or of the blind Metellus, or of Fabius Gurges, what gladiator's wife ever assumed ac- coutrements like these? When did the wife of Asylus 1 ever gasp against a stump ? The bed that holds a wife is never free from wrangling and mutual bickerings; no sleep is to be got there! It is there that she sets upon her hus- band, more savage than a tigress that has lost her cubs; conscious of her own secret slips, she affects a grievance, abusing his slaves, or weeping over some imagined mistress. She has an abundant supply of tears always ready in their place, awaiting her com- mand in which fashion they should flow. You, poor dolt, are delighted, believing them to be tears of love, and kiss them away; but what notes, what love- letters would you find if you opened the desk of your green-eyed adulterous wife! If you find her 1 Supposed to be a gladiator. E 294 J Supplement in the arms of a slave or of a knight, "Speak, speak, Quintilian,' give me one of your colours," 2 she will say. But Quintilian has none to give: "find it your- self," says he. "We agreed long ago," says the lady, "that you were to go your way, and I mine. You may confound sea and sky with your bellowing, I am a human being after all." There's no effrontery like that of a woman caught in the act; her very guilt inspires her with wrath and insolence. But whence come these monstrosities? you ask; from what fountain do they flow? In days of old, the wives of Latium were kept chaste by their humble fortunes. It was toil and brief slumbers that kept vice from polluting their modest homes; hands chafed and hardened by Tuscan fleeces, Han- nibal nearing the city, and husbands standing to arms at the Colline gate.3 We are now suffering the calamities of long peace. Luxury, more deadly than any foe, has laid her hand upon us, and avenges a conquered world. Since the day when Roman pov- erty perished, no deed of crime or lust has been wanting to us; from that moment Sybaris and Rhodes and Miletus have poured in upon our hills, 1 The famous Roman rhetorician, b. A.D. 44, author of the Institutiones Oratoriae. 2 Color is a technical term in rhetoric, denoting an argument which puts a favourable or palliative light on some act. 3 For Hannibal at the Colline Gate, B.C. 213, see Liv. xxvi, zo. E 295 1 Messalina with the begarlanded and drunken and unabashed Tarentum.' Filthy lucre first brought in amongst us foreign ways; wealth enervated and corrupted the ages with foul indulgences. What decency does Venus observe when she is drunken? when she knows not one member from another, eats giant oysters at midnight, pours foaming ungents into her unmixed Falernian, and drinks out of perfume-bowls, while the roof spins dizzily round, the table dances, and every light shows double! Go to now and wonder what means the sneer with which Tullia snuffs the air, or what Maura whispers to her ill-famed foster-sister, when she passes by the ancient altar of Chastity? 2It is there that they set down their litters at night, and befoul the image of the Goddess, playing their filthy pranks for the morn to witness. Thence home they go; while you, when daylight comes, and you are on your way to salute your mighty friends, will tread upon the traces of your wife's abominations. Well known to all are the mysteries of the Good Goddess, when the flute stirs the loins and the Maenads of Priapus sweep along, frenzied alike by the horn-blowing and the wine, whirling their locks 1 Mr. Duff explains this of a scene in the theatre in Tarentum when the people, garlanded in honour of Dionysus, insulted the Roman ambassador (Dio. Cass. fragm. 145). 2 The ancient Temple of Pudicitia was in the Forum Boarium. [ 296 J Supplement and howling. What foul longings burn within their breasts! What cries they utter as the passion palpi- tates within! How drenched their limbs in torrents of old wine! Saufeia challenges the slave-girls to a contest. Her agility wins the prize, but she has herself in turn to bow the knee to Medullina. And so the palm remains with the mistress, whose ex- ploits match her birth! There is no pretence in the game; all is enacted to the life in a manner that would warm the cold blood of a Priam or a Nestor. And now impatient nature can wait no longer: woman shows herself as she is, and the cry comes from every corner of the den, "Let in the men !" If one favoured youth is asleep, another is bidden to put on his cowl and hurry along; if better cannot be got, a run is made upon the slaves; if they too fail, the water-carrier will be paid to come in. O would that our ancient practices, or at least our public rites, were not polluted by scenes like these! But every Moor and every Indian knows how Clodius forced his way into a place from which every buck-mouse scuttles away conscious of his virility, and in which no picture of the male form may be exhibited except behind a veil. Who ever sneered at the Gods in the days of old? Who would have dared to laugh at the earthenware bowls or black pots of Numa, or the brittle plates [ 297 J Messalina made out of Vatican clay? But nowadays at what altar will you not find a Clodius ? I hear all this time the advice of my old friends -keep your women at home, and put them under lock and key. Yes, but who will watch the warders ? Wives are crafty and will begin with them. High or low their passions are all the same. She who wears out the black cobble-stones with her bare feet is no better than she who rides upon the necks of eight stalwart Syrians. Ogulnia hires clothes to see the games; she hires attendants, a litter, cushions, female friends, a nurse, and a fair-haired girl to run her messages; yet she will give all that remains of the family plate, down to the last flagon, to some smooth-faced athlete. Many of these women are poor, but none of them pay any regard to their poverty, or measure them- selves by the standard which that prescribes and lays down for them. Men, on the other hand, do sometimes have an eye to utility; the ant has at last taught some of them to dread cold and hunger. But your extravagant woman is never sensible of her dwindling means; and just as though money were for ever sprouting up afresh from her exhausted coffers, and she had always a full heap to draw 1 Alluding to the profanation of the mysteries of the Bona Dea by Clodius, in B.c. 62, by appearing in the disguise of a female lutist. E 298 J Supplement from, she never gives a thought to what her pleas- ures cost her. "Whenever a cinaedus is kept he taints the house- hold. Folks let these fellows eat and drink with them, and merely have the vessels washed, not shiv- ered to atoms as they should be when such lips have touched them. So even the lanista's establishment is better ordered than yours, for he separates the vile from the decent, and sequesters even from their fellow-retiarii the wearers of the ill-famed tunic; in the training-school, and even in gaol, such creatures herd apart; but your wife condemns you to drink out of the same cup as these gentry, with whom the poorest trull would refuse to sip the choicest wine. Them do women consult about marriage and di- vorce, with their society do they relieve boredom or business, from them do they learn lascivious motions and whatever else the teacher knows. But beware! that teacher is not always what he seems: true, he darkens his eyes and dresses like a woman, but adultery is his design. Mistrust him the more for his show of effeminacy; he is a valiant mattress- knight; there Triphallus drops the mask of Thais. Whom are you fooling? not me; play this farce to those who cannot pierce the masquerade. I wager you are every inch a man; do you own it, or must we wring the truth out of the maid-servants?" 1 He now addresses the cinaedus himself. [ 299 ]J Messalina I know well the advice and warnings of my old friends: "Put on a lock and keep your wife indoors." Yes, and who will ward the warders? They get paid in kind for holding their tongues as to their young lady's escapades; participation seals their lips. The wily wife arranges accordingly, and be- gins with them.. If your wife is musical, none of those who sell their voices 1 to the praetor will hold out against her charms. She is for ever handling musical instru- ments; her sardonyx rings sparkle thick all over the tortoise-shell; the quivering quill with which she runs over the chords will be that with which the gentle Hedymeles performed; she hugs it, consoles herself with it, and lavishes kisses on the dear imple- ment. A certain lady of the lineage of the Lamiae and the Appii 2 inquired of Janus and Vesta, with offerings of cake and wine, whether Pollio could hope for the Capitoline oak-chaplet and promise victory to his lyre." What more could she have done had her husband been ill, or if the doctors had been shaking their heads over her dear little son? There she stood before the altar, thinking it no shame to veil her head 4 on behalf of a harper; she 1i.e. professionals who sing for hire on public occasions. 2 i.e. of a noble family. 3 A prize of oak-leaves was given at the agon Capitolinus, in- stituted by Domitian. Pollio was a player on the cithara. 4 To veil the head was part of the ceremony at a sacrifice. [300J Supplement repeated, in due form, all the words prescribed to her; her cheek blanched when the lamb was opened. Tell me now, I pray, O father Janus, thou most ancient of the Gods, dost thou answer such as she? You have much time on your hands in heaven; so far as I can see, there is nothing for you Gods to do. One lady consults you about a comedian, another wishes to commend to you a tragic actor; the sooth- sayer will soon be troubled with varicose veins.1 Better, however, that your wife should be musical than that she should be rushing boldly about the entire city, attending men's meetings, talking with unflinching face and hard breasts to Generals in their military cloaks, with her husband looking on! This same woman knows what is going on all over the world! what the Thracians and Chinese are after, what has passed between the stepmother and the stepson; she knows who loves whom, what gal- lant is the rage; she will tell you who got the widow with child, and in what month; how every woman behaves to her lovers, and what she says to them. She is the first to notice the comet threatening the kings of Armenia and Parthia; she picks up the latest rumours at the city gates, and invents some herself: how the Niphates 2 has burst out upon the nations, and is inundating entire districts; how cities 1 i.e. with so much standing about. 2 Properly a mountain; here meant for a river. E30o Messalina are tottering and lands subsiding, she tells to every one she meets at every street crossing. No less insufferable is the woman who loves to catch hold of her poor neighbours, and deaf to their cries for mercy lays into them with a whip. If her sound slumbers are disturbed by a barking dog, "Quick with the rods !" she cries; "thrash the owner first, and then the dogs!" She is a formidable woman to encounter; she is terrible to look at. She frequents the baths by night; not till night does she order her oil-jars and her quarters to be shifted thither; she loves all the bustle of the hot bath; when her arms drop exhausted by the heavy weights, the anointer passes his hand skilfully over her body, bringing it down at last with a resounding smack upon her thigh. Meanwhile her unfortunate guests are overcome with sleep and hunger, till at last she comes in with a flushed face, and with thirst enough to drink off the vessel containing full three gallons which is laid at her feet, and from which she tosses off a couple of pints before her dinner to create a raging appetite; then she brings it all up again and souses the floor with the washings of her inside. The stream runs over the marble pavement; the gilt basin reeks of Falernian, for she drinks and vomits like a big snake that has tumbled into a vat. The sickened husband closes his eyes and so keeps down his bile. S302 ] Supplement But most intolerable of all is the woman who as soon as she has sat down to dinner commends Virgil, pardons the dying Dido, and pits the poets against each other, putting Virgil in the one, scale and Homer in the other. The grammarians make way before her; the rhetoricians give in; the whole crowd is silenced: no lawyer, no auctioneer will get a word in, no, nor any other woman; so torrential is her speech that you would think that all the pots and bells were being clashed together. Let no one more blow a trumpet or clash a cymbal: one woman will be able to bring succour to the labouring moon! 1 She lays down definitions, and discourses on morals, like a philosopher; thirsting to be deemed both wise and eloquent, she ought to tuck up her skirts knee- high,2 sacrifice a pig to Silvanus,3 and take a penny bath.4 Let not the wife of your bosom possess a special style of her own; let her not hurl at you in whirling speech the crooked enthymeme! Let her not know all history; let there be some things in her reading which she does not understand. I hate a woman who is for ever consulting and poring over 1 Eclipses of the moon were supposed to be due to t_,e incanta- tions of witches. To prevent these from being heard, and so ward off the evil events portended by the eclipse, it was the cus- tom to create a din by the clashing of bells, horns and trumpets, etc. 2 i.e. wear the short tunic of a man. s Only men sacrificed to Silvanus. 4 i.e. bathe in the public baths. [ 303 J iVMessalina the "Grammar" of Palemon,' who observes all the rules and laws of language, who quotes from ancient poets that I never heard of, and corrects her unlet- tered 2 female friends for slips of speech that no man need trouble about: let husbands at least be per- mitted to make slips in grammar! There is nothing that a woman will not permit herself to do, nothing that she deems shameful, when she encircles her neck with green emeralds, and fastens huge pearls to her elongated ears: there is nothing more intolerable than a wealthy woman. Meanwhile she ridiculously puffs out and disfigures her face with lumps of dough; she reeks of rich Pop- pean 3 unguents which stick to the lips of her un- fortunate husband. Her lover she will meet with a clean-washed skin; but when does she ever care to look nice at home? It is for her lovers that she provides the spikenard, for them she buys all the scents which the slender Indians bring to us. In good time she discloses her face; she removes the first layer of plaster, and begins to be recognisable. She then laves herself with that milk for which she takes a herd of she-asses in her train if sent away to the Hyperborean pole. But when she has been 1 A treatise on grammar by Q. Remmius Palemon, the most famous grammarian of the early empire. 2 The word Opican is equivalent to Oscan, denoting the early inhabitants of Campania. It is used here as equivalent to bar- barian. 3 Cosmetics, called after Nero's wife Poppea. E304 Supplement coated over and treated with all those layers of medicaments, and had those lumps of moist dough applied to it, shall we call it a face or a sore ? It is well worth while to ascertain how these ladies busy themselves all day. If the husband has turned his back upon his wife at night, the wool-maid is done for; the tire-women will be stripped of their tunics; the Liburnian chair-man will be accused of coming late, and will have to pay for another man's' drowsiness; one will have a rod broken over his back, another will be bleeding from a strap, a third from the cat; some women engage their executioners by the year. While the flogging goes on, the lady will be daubing her face, or listening to her lady- friends, or inspecting the widths of a gold-embroid- ered robe. While thus flogging and flogging she reads the lengthy "Gazette," written right across the page, 3 till at last, the floggers being exhausted, and the inquisition ended, she thunders out a gruff "Be off with you !" Her household is governed as cruelly as a Sicilian Court.4 If she has an appointment and wishes to be turned out more nicely than usual, and is in a hurry 1 i.e. the husband's. 2 The text reads as if the flogging was done by the lady herself. But it was evidently done for her by slaves. 3 Books were usually written lengthwise on the roll; but it seems that the acta diurna, here mentioned, were written cross- wise. 4 In allusion to Phalaris, tyrant of Agrigentum. : 305 J Messalina to meet some one waiting for her in the gardens, or more likely near the chapel of the wanton Isis, the unhappy maid that does her hair will have her own hair torn, and the clothes stripped off her shoulders and her breasts. "Why is this curl standing up?" she asks, and then down comes a thong of bull's hide to inflict chastisement for the offending ringlet. Pray how was Psecas in fault? How would the girl be to blame if you happened not to like the shape of your own nose? Another maid on the left side combs out the hair and rolls it into a coil; a maid of her mother's, who has served her time at sewing, and has been promoted to the wool department, assists at the council. She is the first to give her opinion; after her, her inferiors in age or skill will give theirs, as though some question of life or honour were at stake. So important is the business of beau- tification; so numerous are the tiers and storeys piled one upon another on her head! In front, you would take her for an Andromache; 1 she is not so tall be- hind: you would not think it was the same person. What if nature has made her so short of stature that, if unaided by high heels, she looks no bigger than a pigmy, and has to rise nimbly on tip-toe for a kiss! Meanwhile she pays no attention to her hus- band; she never speaks of what she costs him. She 1Hector's wife Andromache must be tall, as living in the heroic age. S306 ]J Supplement lives with him as if she were only his neighbour; in this alone more near to him, that she hates his friends and his slaves, and plays the mischief with his money. And now, behold! in comes the chorus of the frantic Bellona and the mother of the Gods, at- tended by a giant eunuch to whom his obscene inferi- ors must do reverence. . . . Before him the howl- ing herd with the timbrels give way; his plebeian cheeks are covered with a Phrygian tiara. With solemn utterance he bids the lady beware of the September Siroccos if she do not purify herself with a hundred eggs, and present him with some old mul- berry-coloured garments in order that any great and unforeseen calamity may pass into the clothes, and make expiation for the entire year. In winter she will go down to the river of a morning, break the ice, and plunge three times into the Tiber, dipping her trembling head in its whirling waters, and crawl- ing out thence naked and shivering, she will creep with bleeding knees right across the field 1 of Tar- quin the Proud. If the white Io 2 shall so order, she will journey to the confines of Egypt, and fetch water from hot Meroe 3 with which to sprinkle the Temple of Isis which stands hard by the ancient 1 i.e. the Campus Martius. 2 Apparently here identified with Isis. Io was changed into a white cow by Juno out of jealousy. S An island formed by the waters of the Nile. See xiii. 163. C 307 J Messalina sheepfold.' For she believes that the command was given by the voice of the Goddess herself-a pretty kind of mind and spirit for the Gods to have con- verse with by night! Hence the chief and highest place of honour is awarded to Anubis,2 who, with his linen-clad and shaven crew, mocks at the weeping of the people as he runs along.3 He it is that ob- tains pardon for wives who break the law of purity on days that should be kept holy, and exacts huge penalties when the coverlet has been profaned, or when the silver serpent has been seen to nod his head. His tears and carefully-studied mutterings make sure that Osiris will not refuse a pardon for the fault, bribed, no doubt, by a fat goose and a slice of sacrificial cake. No sooner has that fellow departed than a palsied Jewess, leaving her basket and her truss of hay,4 comes begging to her secret ear; she is an inter- preter of the laws of Jerusalem, a high priestess of the tree,5 a trusty go-between of highest heaven. She, too, fills her palm, but more sparingly, for a Jew 1 The Temple of Isis was in the Campus Martius near the polling-booths (saepta) here called ovile. 2A god of the dead; he attended on Isis, and is represented with the head of a dog. 8 The priest who personates Anubis laughs at the people when they lament Osiris. 4 See iii. 14: Iudaei quorum cophinus faenumque supellex. 5 Jews were allowed to camp out under trees as gipsies do in our own country. See iii. I5, i6. E 308 ] Supplement will tell you dreams of any kind you please for the minutest of coins. An Armenian or Commagenian sooth-sayer, after examining the lungs of a dove that is still warm, will promise a youthful lover, or a big bequest from some rich and childless man; he will probe the breast of a chicken, or the entrails of a dog, sometimes even of a boy; some things he will do with the intention of informing against them himself. Still more trusted are the Chaldaeans; every word uttered by the astrologer they will believe has come from Hammon's fountain, for now that the Del- phian oracles are dumb, man is condemned to dark- ness as to his future. Chief among these was one ' who was oft in exile, through whose friendship and venal prophecies the great citizen 2 died whom Otho feared. For nowadays no astrologer has credit un- less he have been imprisoned in some distant camp, with chains clanking on either arm; none believe in his powers unless he has been condemned and all but put to death, having just contrived to get de- ported to a Cyclad, or to escape at last from the diminutive Seriphos.3 1 According to Tac. Hist. i. 22 the name of Otho's astrologer was Ptolemy. 2 The emperor Galba. 3 One of the smaller Cyclades (Serpho), a well-known place of exile. C 309 1 Messalina Your excellent Tanaquil consults as to the long- delayed death of her jaundiced mother-having previously enquired about your own; she will ask when she may expect to bury her sister, or her uncles; and whether her lover will outlive herself -what greater boon could the Gods bestow upon her? And yet your Tanaquil does not herself un- derstand the gloomy threats of Saturn, or under what constellation Venus will show herself propi- tious, which months will be months of losses, which of gains; but beware of ever encountering one whom you see clutching a well-worn calendar in her hands as if it were a ball of clammy amber; 2 one who inquires of none, but is now herself inquired of; one who, if her husband is going forth to camp, or returning home from abroad, will not bear him com- pany if the numbers of Thrasyllus 3 call her back. If she wants to drive as far as the first mile-stone, she finds the right hour from her book; if there is a sore place in the corner of her eye, she will not call for a salve until she has consulted her horoscope; and if she be ill in bed, deems no hour so suitable for taking food as that prescribed to her by Petosiris.4 1 i.e. his wife. Tanaquil was wife of Tarquinius Priscus (perita caelestium prodigiorum, Liv. i. 34). 2 Roman ladies carried balls of amber in their hands, either as a scent or for warmth. 3 The favourite astrologer of Tiberius. 4An ancient Egyptian astrologer. 3 10o Supplement If the woman be of a humble rank, she will promenade between the turning-posts' of the Circus; she will have her fortune told, and will pre- sent her brow and her hand to the seer who asks for many an approving smack.2 Wealthy women will pay for answers from a Phrygian or Indian augur well skilled in the stars and the heavens, or one of the elders employed to expiate thunderbolts. Ple- beian destinies are determined in the Circus or on the ramparts: 3 the woman who displays a long gold chain on her bare neck inquires before the pillars and the clusters of dolphins whether she shall throw over the tavern-keeper and marry the old- clothes-man. These poor women, however, endure the perils of child-birth, and all the troubles of nursing to which their lot condemns them; but how often does a gilded bed contain a woman that is lying in? So great is the skill, so powerful the drugs, of the abor- tionist, paid to murder mankind within the womb. Rejoice, poor wretch; give her the stuff to drink whatever it be, with your own hand: for were she 1 The mete were the turning-posts at each end of the low wall (spina) round which the chariots had to turn. Each meta con- sisted of a group of conical pillars with dolphins on them. 2 Poppysma is a smacking sound made by the lips; it was ap- parently a sign of approval and satisfaction. These sounds are made by the consulting party. S The famous rampart of Servius Tullius, which protected Rome on its eastern side. 4 Apparently alluding to a low class of women. E3II Messalina willing to get big and trouble her womb with bounc- ing babes, you might perhaps find yourself the father of an Ethiopian; and some day a coloured heir, whom you would rather not meet by daylight, would fill all the places in your will. I say nothing of supposititious children, of the hopes and prayers so often cheated at those filthy pools 1 from which are supplied Priests and Salii,2 with bodies that will falsely bear the name of Scauri. There Fortune shamelessly takes her stand by night, smiling on the naked babes; she fondles them all and folds them in her bosom, and then, to provide herself with a secret comedy, she sends them forth to the houses of the great. These are the children that she loves, on these she lavishes herself, and with a laugh brings them always forward as her own. One man supplies magical spells; another sells Thessalian 3 charms by which a wife may upset her husband's mind, and lather his buttocks with a slipper; thence come loss of reason, and darkness of soul, and blank forgetfulness of all that you did but yesterday. Yet even that can be endured, if only 1 These were pools or reservoirs in which infants were exposed. Fortune delights in spiriting these foundlings into the houses of the great. 2 The priests of Mars, recruited from noble families. S Thessaly was famous for witches and the magic art. The husband here is made mad by a love-potion. [312 Supplement you become not raving mad like that uncle 1 of Nero's into whose drink Caesonia poured the whole brow of a weakly foal; 2 and what woman will not follow when an Empress leads the way? The whole world was ablaze then and falling down in ruin just as if Juno had made her husband mad. Less guilty therefore will Agrippina's mushroom ' be deemed, seeing that it only stopped the breath of one old man, and sent down his palsied head and slobbering lips to heaven, whereas the other potion demanded fire and sword and torture, mingling Knights and Fathers in one mangled bleeding heap. Such was the cost of one mare's offspring and of one she- poisoner. A wife hates the children of a concubine; let none demur or forbid, seeing that it has long been deemed right and proper to slay a stepson. But I warn you wards-you that have a good estate-keep watch over your lives; trust not a single dish: those hot cakes are black with poison of a mother's baking. Whatever is offered you by the mother, let someone taste it first; let your trembling tutor take the first taste of every cup. 1 The emperor Caligula. His wife Caesonia was said to have made him mad by a love-philtre. 2 Alluding to the hippomanes, an excrescence on the head of a young foal, which was used in love-potions. 3 Agrippina the younger murdered her husband, the Emperor Claudius, by a dish of mushrooms (Tac. Ann. xii. 57, Suet. 44). See v. 147. E313 Messalina Now think you that all this is a fancy tale, and that our Satire is taking to herself the high heels of tragedy? Think you that I have out-stepped the limits and the laws of those before me, and am mouthing in Sophoclean tones a grand theme un- known to the Rutulian hills and the skies of Latium? Would indeed that my words were idle! But here is Pontia proclaiming "I did the deed; I gave aconite, I confess it, to my own children; the crime was de- tected, and is known to all; yes, with my own hands I did it." "What, you most savage of vipers? you killed two, did you, two at a single meal?" "Aye, and seven too, had there chanced to be seven to kill !" Let us believe all that Tragedy tells us of the savage Colchian' and of Procne; 2 I seek not to gainsay her. Those women were monsters of wickedness in their day; but it was not for money that they sinned. We marvel less at great crimes when it is wrath that incites the sex to the guilty deed, when burning passion carries them headlong, like a rock torn from a mountain side, when the ground beneath gives way, and the overhanging slopes fall in. I cannot endure the woman who cal- culates, and commits a great crime in her sober 1 Medea. 2 Procne, daughter of Pandion, king of Athens, revenged her- self on her husband, Tereus, by serving up to him the flesh of his son Itys. She was turned into a swallow. [C314] Supplement senses. Our wives look on at Alcestis, undergoing her husband's fate; if they were granted a like lib- erty of exchange, they would fain let the husband die to save a lap-dog's life. You will meet a daughter of Belus 1 or an Eriphyle every morning: no street but has its Clytemnestra.2 The only difference is this: the daughter of Tyndareus 3 wielded in her two hands a clumsy two-headed axe, whereas nowadays a slice of a toad's lung will do the business. Yet it may be done by steel as well, if the wary husband have beforehand tasted the medicaments of the thrice-conquered king of Pontus.4 1 Belus was the father of Danaus; hence the Danaids are called Belide. 2 The Danaids (daughters of Belus), Eriphyle, and Clytemnestra, all killed their husbands. 3 Clytemnestra was daughter of Tyndareus. 4 Mithridates, who was said to have secured himself against poisoning by prophylactics. :315:1 III MESSALINA BY CHARLES MERIVALE 1 BUT the feature in this prince's (Claudius) character which has been rendered the most prominent by the historians, and has made him for the most part a byword for weakness and stupidity, is his subjection to the women whom he made his wives. Of these the first was a Plautia, the second an Aelia, both of whom he found occasion to di- vorce; the third was the infamous Valeria Messa- lina, worse and more ill-fated than either. The ir- regularity of her conduct has been painted in the most glaring colours, and the art with which she contrived to deceive her husband has been a common theme with prurient satirists. To retain her influ- ence over her weak consort she allied herself with his freedmen and favourites, joined with them in sell- ing appointments and extorting bribes, until, per- haps, she entangled herself in their toils, and fell at last a victim to their machinations. The story of her fall, as reported in all the records of the times, 1 From "History of Rome," pp. 460-462, Longmans, Green & Co., I894. [316] Supplement is undoubtedly one of the most striking incidents in Roman history, and must not be omitted in a sketch like this: but some deduction must surely be made from the confidence which we are expected to place in it. We are required to believe that this wicked woman, after indulging herself in the vilest and most promiscuous amours, cast her eyes on a young, a handsome, and a virtuous noble named Silius, and induced him, by the offer of sharing the throne with her, to go through the rite of marriage in due form with every public solemnity. Claudius, it is said, was absent from Rome. All the world knew of the flagrant enormity; he was the last to be informed of the dishonour of his house. When his freedmen at last disclosed it to him they could with difficulty in- duce him to persist in exacting the due punishment of the crime. Both Silius and Messalina were put to death; but so stolid was the injured husband, that for days after he used to ask for the wife whose death he had forgotten, and wonder at her not ap- pearing at his table. Such is the extraordinary tale which the gravest historians steadfastly aver; it is only from one obscure intimation that we seem casually to learn that the marriage was a contriv- ance of Cladius himself, who, we must suppose, had divorced his wife beforehand, through fear of a sooth-sayer's announcement that the husband of Messalina was destined to a speedy death. The E3'7J Messalina greatest of the Romans were not superior to such wretched superstitions, and we may well believe that Claudius could be worked upon by intriguers in the palace thus to rid them of a woman whom they might hate or fear. But an important consideration depends upon this story. In the narrative of the early history of Rome it has been necessary to pause from time to time and warn the reader that our authorities are little to be depended upon, and that it is from the general com- plexion of their accounts, rather than from particu- lar relations, that we must gather our conceptions of the time and people. A similar caution must now be given in regard to the history of the Caesars. We have been expressly assured that the story of Tiberius was gravely falsified by the writers of the time through fear or hatred, and it is impossible to say how fairly the great historian of the empire, Tacitus, has sifted the contemporary materials which lay be- fore him. But there is distinct reason to believe that the affairs of Claudius were studiously misrepre- sented. Among the narratives which professed to detail them none were so popularly known as the scandalous memoirs of Agrippina, whose motive in writing them could only be to blast the fame of Messalina, to discredit the memory of Claudius, and to magnify her own merits and those of her son Nero. Whatever she may have advanced in favour 318 ] Supplement of this prince and of herself has been overwhelmed by an opposite wave of adverse testimony, but her evidence against her unfortunate husband-for she succeeded to the vacant place of Messalina-was greedily accepted by the class of political pamph- leteers and ribald anecdotists who constituted the historians of the following generation. The per- sonal history of the Roman emperors, though writ- ten under very different circumstances, is hardly more to be relied on than the history of the Roman kings. THE END E319r This book is a preservation facsimile produced for the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign. It is made in compliance with copyright law and produced on acid-free archival 60# book weight paper which meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (permanence of paper). Preservation facsimile printing and binding by Northern Micrographics Brookhaven Bindery La Crosse, Wisconsin 2012