Domitian had not been present at the meeting of the Senate. He had gone
to sleep late, and, not waking till long after sunrise, he remained in
bed to receive his chamberlain, Parthenius, who came to announce to him
that the plan of campaign against the proscribed sect was fully laid
and ratified. This news entirely restored Caesar’s lost composure, and
he came to breakfast in the best humor possible.
His spirits rose still higher, when Parthenius reported the results of
his overtures to Barbillus. The priest of Isis had expressed himself
ready to meet the Emperor’s wishes for a consideration of ninety
thousand denarii. His co-operation was not to be had cheaper, since
Barbillus had a tender conscience, and could not risk the wrath of
Isis, the all-powerful, for less.
Domitian rubbed his hands, and a hideous, leering smile stole over his
sallow face. His eyes sparkled scornfully under his lowering brow.
“By Cypris! a sly fox is this Barbillus! And will he pledge his word
that the shy nymph...?”
“Do not be uneasy, my lord. Barbillus has planned such a piece of
bewildering magic to play, that she will lose her head. You are to
appear before her, mysteriously illuminated and with lightning flashing
round you, in the form of the hawk-headed god, Osiris.[34]--All sorts
of mystical effects are to be introduced.--Rely upon it, my lord, she
is yours, if ever a mortal woman was conquered by an immortal god.”
“You have done well!” cried Caesar, enchanted. “How our noble Cinna
would writhe, if he could know.... These conjurors are inexhaustible
with their ingenious tricks. The strange thing is, that so much truth
creeps in among so many lies. Who was it, that told you that Barbillus
is a master of astrology?”
"Sextus Furius, to whom he foretold his brothers' death."
“I remember ... and the prophecy was verified?”
“To the very hour. The two men were in Gaul at the time, and no one
here knew that they were ill. The elder died on the ides of February,
and the younger two days later.”
Caesar’s face clouded, and he cast a sinister glance at Parthenius.
Could it, indeed, be that the chamberlain did not know he was speaking
treason?--could he so utterly have forgotten, what had happened to
the soothsayer Ascletario? Domitian had expected a denial from the
courtier, not a confirmation of the facts. Truly, even Parthenius, it
would seem, had ceased to care for his sovereign’s favor! Even he was
growing audacious and reckless.
Domitian involuntarily felt for the little wooden tablet which lay
under his pillow; but Parthenius met his eye with a look of such
perfect innocence, that Domitian felt a qualm of remorse. He held out
his hand to the chamberlain and said, with an effort to be amiable:
“Thank you, my friend; your information will be useful. I have not yet
decided whether I will appear at table, or indeed leave my rooms at
all. But, in any case, do you be here in good time for the precious
divine comedy in the evening.”
“As my sovereign commands.”
“Listen--stop!” cried Caesar, as Parthenius was going. “To-day, you
know, Julia, my late brother’s daughter, is to be buried[35]....”
“I know, my lord!”
“Well ... I forgot to say ... her ashes are to be carried to the temple
of the Flavia family;[36] the dignity of our race requires it. I beg
of you to omit nothing, that is due to the Manes of the illustrious
dead--such as Julia. I would have the people know and tell each other,
how Domitian honors the daughter of the divine Titus.”
“I understand.”
And Parthenius went.
“I will watch him,” said Domitian to himself. “If he too.... No torture
would be too severe for such a breach of faith.... Folly! His fate is
so inseparably bound up with mine, that my fall must bring him down
too.”
He slowly raised himself from the pillow, leaning on his right hand,
and a slight shudder ran through him; he was cold. “The consequence
of yesterday’s excitement,” he said to himself, drawing the coverlet
closer round him. “By Castor, but it is becoming absurd! Always the same
fabric of the brain--that foolish, hideous figure, with its ghastly
face and gaping wound!” And he pressed his hand over his eyes.
“It is ridiculous. Must everything on earth repeat itself? Nero, gory
shade, I laugh you to scorn! Have I waded in blood? Have I set the
immortal city in flames, and struck my lyre while the people howled in
anguish? Have I murdered my own mother? Nay--I am a mild and merciful
sovereign. Compared with Nero--a child, a lamb, a dove! Away! Why
stand grinning at me there, horrid vision? You have long been dust and
ashes.--Vanish, go, or I will strangle you!...”
He groaned and sank back on his cushions. His eyes were closed, but his
hands were stretched out, stark, as if convulsed; his breath came hard
and quickly, and his livid lips never ceased moving.
“It is he, it is he....” he stammered, sitting up again. “I see him,
barefoot, his mantle torn, riding towards Phaon’s house.[37]--I hear
the shouts of the soldiers in the camp close by.--They are cursing
him.--His horse has shied--he is looking round--the Praetorians know
his pale face.--Now he has leaped from his saddle, and is hiding in
the bushes.--How he gasps! How thirsty he is--he is stooping over a
puddle to drink!--They have reached the villa; there--he is trembling,
his knees give way.--Here is a messenger from Rome bringing Phaon the
news--the decision of the Senate. Traitors! Treason! Death by the hand
of the executioner.--Hark! Horses!--the soldiers are coming out to take
him.--Come, more merciful steel, and pierce this throbbing heart. Kill
him, murder him, tear him limb from limb!--It is over, there he lies,
stiff on his cloak, his eyes starting out of their sockets. His face
is as pale as ashes.--Thus dies Nero!--Alas! and woe is me! Thus dies
Domitian!”
A loud and piercing shriek; then the silence of the grave.
“Help, help!” cried the boy, who was on guard in the cubiculum.
“Help--quick!”
It was Phaeton, Caesar’s favorite slave; he rushed forward to lift up
the Emperor, who lay like one dead. His left arm hung helplessly over
the edge of the bed; he had pushed aside his pillows, and with them,
his wooden tablet which, as Phaeton pulled the cushions into place,
fell with a clatter on to the floor. The lad stooped and picked it up,
only just in time to save it from being trodden on by the other slaves,
who came rushing in from all sides. He instinctively hid the piece of
wood in his tunic. A moment later and the physician came in, who at
once dismissed all unnecessary attendants, among them Phaeton, who was
still trembling from the shock. Caesar, he said, must have absolute
rest.
Phaeton, however, lingered; he wanted to know whether Caesar’s life
was in danger, and it was not till the leech had reassured him on
that point, that he was persuaded to quit the room and remain in the
cavaedium close at hand. There he went to the south-western entrance,
where two of the praetorian guard were keeping watch in shining armor.
He sat down, squatting on the mosaic pavement, near a door which
commanded a view over the Aventine. For a time he stared vacantly at
the tall, stiff figures with their dazzling helmets and their calm,
stern, weather-beaten faces. Then, with a yawn, he idly drew forth the
wooden tablet. He could not read, and his eye wandered curiously down
the close rows of curling or angular letters, which to him were signs
far more mystical than the old Hebrew rolls of manuscripts, which he
had seen his mother read. Then he fell to balancing the little board
on his fingers, trying to support it on one corner, as he had seen
Masthlion, the famous juggler do, out on the Field of Mars.
At this moment the heavy tread of Clodianus was heard approaching.[38]
He had been requested by the chamberlain to visit the room where Julia
was lying dead. The boy, with a dim sense of wrong-doing in thus
playing tricks with the property of his imperial master, hastily hid
the tablet in his tunic again. But the very promptness with which he
did so attracted the adjutant’s attention.
“What are you hiding there?” he asked, beckoning the lad to him.
“Nothing, my lord--a little board....” stammered Phaeton. “Our lord and
god is ill--he fainted; the bit of wood fell on the ground....”
“Show it to me.” The boy obeyed, trembling, for the adjutant’s voice
had a growl in it of distant thunder. At the court of the Roman Emperor
any one might, at any moment, happen to offend the majesty of Caesar
beyond all forgiveness. The quaking youngster fully expected that the
next words he should hear would be:
“Go, and be soundly flogged!” or even worse. What then was his surprise
when Clodianus, who on first glancing at the tablet had frowned darkly,
suddenly lost his expression of angry defiance, and looked anxiously
round at the sentinels.
“Have they seen this?” he asked, drawing the lad aside.
“No, my lord.”
“Where did you find this tablet?”
“It was lying under the great sovereign’s pillow.”
“And you stole it?”
“Nay, my lord. It fell out, when Caesar lost consciousness.”
“Caesar is sick, then?”
“I said so before. He screamed as if an asp had stung him; then he
fainted. The leech says there is no danger....”
“Let us hope so, let us hope so.--Did any one see you pick up this
little tablet?”
“No, my lord.”
“Listen, then, to what I tell you. Replace it as soon as possible, and
secretly.--Mark me well, very secretly--exactly where it was. If any
one finds out that you brought it out here, you are a dead man--I mean
well by you, Phaeton.”
“Oh! my lord, if I could have dreamed that I was committing a crime....”
“Be silent, and do as I bid you. By our conquering eagle! I am not one
of those, who make an outcry about every little stupid thing. An old
soldier is not prone to tale-telling--only do not betray yourself.”
“How have I deserved so much kindness?” said the poor boy, kissing the
wily courtier’s hand. “Perhaps I could slip into the room again now....”
“You can but try, my boy; and for the future take care what you do.
Things that Caesar thinks fit to hide under his pillow, are not meant
for the eyes of others, you may be sure. Do not forget that.”
The lad went; Clodianus looked after him, nodding his head as he said
to himself: “A most fortunate chance! You write a plain hand, Caesar!
I have seen this coming for some time. You insist on having none but
foes, great potentate! No confederates! Well--I can but try to play the
part.”
Meanwhile Domitian had recovered from his swoon. An overwrought mind,
the physician said, and anxiety for the weal of his beloved Romans
had reduced the Father of his country to this condition; escape from
all business, amusement, and enjoyment of every kind, were the only
means of avoiding a recurrence of the attack. Domitian accepted this
diagnosis with favor. The external application of Vesuvian wine, and a
few mouthfuls of the strongest Samian, which he swallowed eagerly, had
entirely restored his vigor; he did not even feel so languid as usual.
He spent another hour in bed, by the leech’s advice, and then he
allowed himself to be dressed, and ordered his litter. Just as he was
quitting the room he remembered the tablet; he hastened back and raised
the pillow. There it lay--the register of death. He put it in his bosom.
“What are you doing here?” he said, turning sharply on Phaeton, who was
standing by, pale and frightened.
“Whatever my lord and god may command.”
“Then order Narcissus to wait in the cubiculum,[39] and do you come
with me.”
Phaeton breathed once more. He obeyed with the swiftness of the wind.
The Emperor passed the hours till supper-time in one of the vast
pleasaunces on the top of Mons Janiculus, and to Phaeton was vouchsafed
the coveted honor of entertaining the ruler of the world, while the
rest of the suite stood aside in reverent silence. Domitian was
remarkably gracious to-day. He condescended to pinch the boy’s rosy
cheeks, and invited him to share the breakfast, which was served
in a garden-house with every conceivable luxury. Then Phaeton must
sing to him, and tell him once more about his mother, the beautiful,
heart-broken Judith, who had been brought to Rome as a young girl from
her home in Palestine, and had never ceased weeping till her large,
flashing eyes were dim and blind. The boy knew how to talk, sometimes
gaily, sometimes sadly--of the holy citadel of Jerusalem[40] which,
to him, included all that was sacred on earth--of the horrors of the
siege--the Temple of Solomon--the hoary cedars of Lebanon. Then he
would relate some reminiscence of his own experience--of the first time
he threw the discus on the Field of Mars, and attracted the notice of
Parthenius--of the pride and awe with which he had, for the first time,
entered the imperial apartments--his delight at Caesar’s approbation,
when he returned from an excursion to Albanum.
As he listened to this simple childlike prattle, Domitian was moved to
a guileless feeling of affection, which he had long forgotten.
“Tell me, Phaeton,” he said, stroking the boy’s long curls, “if base
villains were to attempt your master’s life, or try to hurt him, you
would stand by him?”
“So far as I was able, my lord,” said the boy heartily. “But who would
dare to commit so monstrous a crime?”
“No one, Phaeton, by the gods! I only asked you to try your love for
me.”
When he was weary of Phaeton’s chatter, Caesar had his bearers to
carry him about in the gardens for a while, and at last back to the
palace--almost exactly at the hour when the assembled Fathers were
coming down from the Capitoline, after passing the decree against the
Christians. He remained in his room till he went to table, and at the
meal he was lively, almost excited, though he eat but little, while, on
the other hand, he drank full draughts of Falernian unmixed with water.
When the _coena_ was over, he retired to his private business-room.
There he rushed up and down the room in loud and vehement soliloquy,
fighting the air like a gladiator and exclaiming wildly: “Come
on--only come on, you villains! my good sword shall cleave your
skulls.” Then he took to catching flies, as he had been wont to do as a
boy,[41] impaling them on his writing-stylus.
“Through and through!” he exclaimed in a tone of triumph. “Have I got
you now, traitors? Aye, writhe and wriggle--like mad things! you shall
not escape me now, till Tartarus yawns to receive your souls.”
By degrees his excitement calmed down; still, when the chamberlain made
his appearance, he was so vigorous and eager, that Parthenius allowed
himself to make a somewhat broad allusion to the evening’s adventure.
“You are a precious witty fellow!” laughed the Emperor. “But I feel
myself that you have, in jest, hit the truth. Up then to deeds of
glory! I only hope that Isis, the celestial Egyptian, may be content
with her new brother.”
FOOTNOTES:
[34] IN THE FORM OF THE HAWK-HEADED GOD, OSIRIS. Nothing is said
by the ancient authors concerning such a farce enacted by
Domitian; but from all we know of the man’s character, there
is no doubt that my imagination does him no injustice.
With respect to the incident itself, similar ones actually
happened, and in A. D. 19 Flavius Josephus relates that a
Roman knight, Decius Mundus, pursued an aristocratic lady
called Paulina a long time with offers of love, without
obtaining a hearing. As she was eagerly devoted to the worship
of the goddess Isis, Decius Mundus, by the offer of 5,000
denarii, induced the priest to tell her that the god Anubis
(son of Isis and Osiris) desired a nocturnal meeting. Paulina
believed this, and Decius Mundus appeared in the jackal-headed
mask of the god. The cheat was successful, but when the
emperor Tiberius heard of it, he sent the knight into exile,
ordered the priests to be crucified, the temple levelled to
the ground, and the statue of the goddess flung into the
water.--By the way, it may be remarked that Domitian, before
he was emperor, escaped from the besieged Capitol, whither
he had fled in the war with Vitellius, _in the costume of a
priest of Isis_, and remained concealed until his enemy’s
defeat.
[35] IS TO BE BURIED. Usually a longer interval elapsed between the
date of death and the funeral--about a week.
[36] TEMPLE OF THE FLAVIA FAMILY. See Suet, _Dom._ 15 and 17. The
ashes of Vespasian and Titus lay there.
[37] I SEE HIM, BAREFOOT, HIS MANTLE TORN, RIDING TOWARDS PHAON'S
HOUSE. For Nero’s terrible end, see Suet. _Ner._ 48 and
following pages. Dio Cass. LXIII, 27, etc. Phaon was a
freedman of the emperor, one of the few who were faithful
to him to the last. See also what Dio Cassius (LXXVII, 15.)
relates of the visions of Caracalla.
[38] AT THIS MOMENT THE HEAVY TREAD OF CLODIANUS WAS HEARD
APPROACHING. In Dio Cassius (LXVII, 15), it is Domitia, the
empress, who surprises the boy playing with the little wooden
tablet.
[39] SERVICE IN THE CUBICULUM. Service at the altar of the Lares.
See Suet. _Dom._ 17.
[40] THE HOLY CITADEL OF JERUSALEM. The destruction of Jerusalem by
Titus, son of Vespasian, the reigning emperor at that time,
occurred on the 10th of August, A. D. 70.
[41] CATCHING FLIES, AS HE HAD BEEN WONT TO DO AS A BOY. See Suet.
_Dom._ 3: “In the commencement of his reign he spent several
hours alone every day, doing nothing but catching flies and
impaling them on a sharp stylus.”