At last the emperor started for Capri. A gorgeous litter, supported by
six stalwart Syrians, bore him to the Porta Capena, where carriages
awaited him and his party. Besides the servants, there were with
Tiberius the Senator Nerva, the Knight Atticus, Sejanus, Caligula, the
little Tiberius, and a few Greek comedians. To the Senate the emperor
had explained that his departure was occasioned by the need of his
presence at the dedication of temples in Campania. The news of the
emperor’s departure spread through the city like the announcement of a
great victory of the legions. Crowds had, therefore, collected along
the roads that led to the Porta Capena. At the parting signal from the
trumpets of the accompanying Praetorian guards, there arose from the
people a cry of joy that penetrated the bosom of Tiberius like a sharp
poniard.
After a journey of four hours, Aricia was reached,--a small village,
embraced by the pine woods of the Alban Hills. Here Tiberius owned a
villa that had once belonged to Clodius, the bitter enemy of Cicero.
From the beautiful flowered terraces of this villa the whole sweep
of the Roman Campagna spread out like a vast rug, woven by the deft
fingers of some divinity. At sundown Tiberius and Sejanus stood on one
of these terraces looking at the glorious panorama. Turning to the
minister, the emperor said, “Tell me, O Sejanus, can there be in the
whole empire a view to compare with this?”
“How small Rome appears! Seems it possible that in that speck there can
be so much dissension?”
“Ah, farewell to Rome and its deceptions! Didst thou hear the cry of
joy from the people when we left the city? Bah! Let them hate me, O
Sejanus, so long as they fear me.”
As the ride from Aricia to Terracina would require ten hours, the
party must needs leave the Alban Hills before the break of dawn on
the following morning. The emperor’s ill-humor and bitterness had
increased. Because his groom had awkwardly fastened the emperor’s
sandal, Tiberius struck him and felled him to the floor. The servant
who had brought his morning meal was sentenced to be deprived of food
for three days, because the meal was served cold. When they changed
horses at the miserable town of Forum Appii, on the edge of the
Pontine Marshes, the displeasure of Tiberius had so increased that
he ordered his followers not to speak without his permission. In
consequence, the flippant talk of the Greeks was hushed, Nerva and
Atticus remained silent, and the princes, Tiberius and Caligula, spoke
to each other only in whispers. But on the heights of the beautiful
town of Terracina, in a comfortable villa fanned by sea-breezes,
Tiberius regained his customary composure. He remained there a day to
conduct necessary business. After state affairs had been attended to,
letters received and answered, and the terrible order forwarded for the
instant death of Sabinus, the party revelled in the mellow wine of that
luxuriant country. The lad Caligula was plied with wine until he became
intoxicated, so that by his delirious antics he might add to their
amusement.
On the following day they went to Formiae. They stopped for their
midday meal at a villa near the sea. The day being warm, the meal was
served in a grotto. Youths dressed as fauns and satyrs passed the
different courses, while young maidens in gauzy attire danced before
the revellers. Suddenly, when the meal was at its height, a bank of
earth at the entrance to the grotto became detached and fell in upon
them all. There was great confusion. However, every one escaped serious
injury. The emperor, moving too slowly, had his feet caught by the
falling earth. Seeing that all danger had passed, Sejanus quickly
threw himself over the emperor, as if to protect him from further harm.
At this show of absolute self-sacrifice after all danger was over,
Tiberius loaded the minister with praises and expressions of gratitude.
From Formiae the party went to Capua. In this important and luxurious
city Tiberius dedicated the temple to Jupiter. From there, with
his followers, he went to Nola. In this town, where the death of
Augustus had occurred, Tiberius dedicated a temple to his illustrious
predecessor. During the journey from Nola to Neapolis the emperor again
became sullen and ill-humored. An officer whose duty it was to precede
the party neglected to remove a small branch of a tree that projected
over the road. This negligence so enraged Tiberius that he commanded
the party to halt. Then, ordering the officer to be stripped and
beaten, he compelled the party to watch the brutal punishment for this
trivial offence. Silenced by fear and by the emperor’s displeasure, the
party then quickly moved towards Neapolis.
When they embarked for Capri, the bay of Neapolis was as calm and
innocent as a sleeping child. The crystal air seemed alive with light.
Sharply outlined against the clear deep-blue sky were the edges of the
hills that nearly surround that magic circle. The abrupt cliffs of
Surrentum, the peaceful slopes around Sabia, the gentle sweep of the
land between Vesuvius and Neapolis, and the bold, volcanic islands of
Procida and Ischia, were gently kissed by the transparent waters of
that glorious bay. Between the promontories of Surrentum and Ischia,
Capri, with its profile of a human face, appeared like a huge dark
sapphire on the bosom of the sea.
In the bay floated little sprigs of sea-weed, purple fucus, like
ravellings from kingly robes, sea-grass and leaves, like waving hair
and green roses, watery flowers, as soft as feathery plumes or lashes
of dreaming eyes. Under the surface were little sea-horses, swarms of
tiny fish that moved among branches of fleshy coral like humming-birds
among branches of small blossoming trees. Medusae, living vacuities,
trembled and floated like transparent lilies detached from their stems
and imbued with life and motion. Ah! the bay of Neapolis appeared like
a huge flower-garden, flooded with sparkling dew.
Circling the peaceful garden and crowning the hill-tops and slopes,
like an immortal wreath, were the orange and olive groves of Surrentum,
the laurels and myrtle of Sabia, the vineyards and fields of
Vesuvius--that colossal verdant bell of spring--the pines and cypresses
of Neapolis, and the vineyards of Procida, Ischia, and Capri. It
seemed as if Nature were intoxicated with beauty. It seemed as if
celestial harmonies, borne on the rays of light, touched the ears with
an infinite melody.
A gilded bireme, with purple sails and polished bronze trimmings,
floated gracefully on the lovely bay, like some enchanted boat sent
by the gods to bear spirits to happy havens of peace. Attached to the
mast, the emperor’s golden ensign languidly fluttered in the quiet
air, like expiring flames on a sacrificial altar to the goddess Flora.
Around the bireme were numerous small boats filled with happy people
dressed in bright colors. Songs and laughter filled the air. Cheers
and acclamations gradually increased in volume as the emperor and his
retinue neared the shore. They hastened into the small boats that
awaited them, and were soon conducted aboard the bireme. The anchor
was quickly raised, the poised oars began to move with regular rhythm,
and the boat bounded forward like a living thing. The bow cleaved the
smooth water in gentle ripples, and the dripping oars, when raised for
the next stroke, showered sparkling drops in the air like tears of joy.
Every one was inspired by the gorgeous sight. The emperor, looking
at the retreating shores of Neapolis, pointed out to his companions
the different villas that had once belonged to Cicero, Lucullus, and
Augustus. Some of the party recited poetry; the Greeks sang extracts
from the Odyssey; Nerva quoted the following lines of Virgil:--
“Nor Oebalus, shalt thou unsung from this our story fail,
Whom Telon on nymph Sebethis begat, as tells the tale;
When Teleboan Capreae he reigned o’er, waxen old;
Whose son might not abide to sit within his father’s fold.”
Caligula and the lad Tiberius amused themselves by watching the
fishermen haul their nets and the little nude boys rock small boats
whose edges gathered in water at every roll. Every one seemed happy on
this delightful day. It seemed impossible that such tranquillity and
beauty could ever be ruffled by storms and tempests.
As the mainland grew more and more indistinct, the villas on the north
side of Capri gradually became more sharply defined. From the gray
rock, dotted with brush and small trees, gradually came into view the
bold marble-columned front of one of the palaces built by Augustus. The
bireme took a course to the south of the island, towards the palace
where Augustus spent the last days of his life. This palace was more
inaccessible than the others. No one could approach it without being
seen by the occupants.
When the imperial party had arrived at their destination, small boats
conveyed them to the shore. When he entered the palace, Tiberius
heaved a sigh, and said to Sejanus, “Thanks be to the gods! We have at
last arrived! Now I am safe from the intrigues of Rome! Ah, Sejanus,
we should have sooner begun the Villa Jovis. In one month I shall be
higher up the cliffs, where only the winds can reach me.”
“Didst thou say that the Divine Augustus lived in this palace shortly
before he died at Nola?”
“Ay, within these very walls, weak as he was, he composed Greek verses.
Come with me!” he exclaimed, as he led Sejanus from the palace. They
slowly walked to the edge of the cliff. “Yonder,” said Tiberius, “on
the largest of these islands that stand like sentinels guarding the
approach to the landing, the poet Masgabus is buried, and-- By the
infernal Deities, what is that object moving towards us?” he cried in a
tone of fear.
“It has the appearance of a huge sea-monster,” said Sejanus.
Slowly creeping up the cliffs was a strange object that had an uncanny
look. Tiberius, affrighted, called a soldier to his side. As the
singular object approached, it was seen to be the form of a man
carrying a basket of fish. The fisherman was one-eyed. His bronzed head
was bald; his unshaven face wrinkled and weather-beaten. His toothless
mouth was sunken. His whole body was deformed by overwork. He deposited
his basket upon the rocks and, moved by a feeling of loyal generosity,
took from it the largest fish, which he awkwardly presented to the
emperor.
Enraged that any one dared climb those slippery and dangerous rocks,
Tiberius ordered the soldier to rub the fisherman’s face with the gift
he had just presented. “Is there a spot on the island,” exclaimed the
emperor, “where these things cannot approach?”
“Thou treatest the man too kindly, O Tiberius,” said Sejanus.
The fisherman smiled at such treatment, and said to the soldier in his
crude Latin dialect, “I am glad that I did not give him the crawfish I
carried with me.”
“What didst thou say?” growled the emperor.
“Nothing,” stammered the frightened fisherman.
“For his insolence, take the crawfish and lacerate his ugly face,”
ordered Tiberius.
The cries of the poor fisherman were pitiable, as his face was rudely
torn by the claws of the crawfish.
“Ah! henceforth the fishermen will avoid my presence,” added Tiberius,
with an ugly leer.
The next day Sejanus departed for Rome. He carried with him a signed
parchment, delegating to him the imperial authority concerning all the
minor details of government.