_AGRIPPINA AND NERO_
‘Occidat dum imperet.’--TAC. _Ann._ xiv. 9.
A voice was heard in the corridor, the curtain was drawn aside, and a
youth of sixteen, but who had nearly completed his seventeenth year,
entered the room.
He was still in the bloom of his youthful beauty. His face was
stamped with all the nobility of the Domitian race from which
he sprang. It had not as yet a trace of that ferocity engendered
in later years from an immense vanity clouded by a dim sense of
mediocrity. It was perfectly smooth, and there was nothing to give
promise of the famous brazen beards of his ancestors, unless it were
the light hair, with its slight tinge of red, which was so greatly
admired in antiquity, and which looked golden when it caught the
sunlight. Round the forehead it was brushed back, but it covered
his head with a mass of short and shining curls, and grew low down
over the white neck. His face had not yet lost the rose of youth,
though its softness spoke of a luxurious life. The eyes were of light
grey, and the expression was not ungenial, though, owing to his short
sight, his forehead often wore the appearance of a slight frown. He
was of middle height, and of those fine proportions which made his
flatterers compare him to the youthful God of Song.
‘Nero!’ exclaimed his mother: ‘I thought you were still in the
banquet hall. If the Emperor awakes he may notice your absence.’
‘There is little fear of that,’ said Nero, laughing. ‘I left the
Emperor snoring on his couch, and the other guests decorously trying
to suppress the most portentous yawns. They, poor wretches, will have
to stay on till midnight or later, unless Narcissus sets them free
from the edifying spectacle of a semi-divinity quite intoxicated.’
‘Hush!’ said Agrippina, severely. ‘This levity is boyish and
ill-timed. Jest at what you like, but never at the majesty of the
Imperial power--not even in private, not even to me. And remember
that palace walls have ears. Did you leave Octavia at the table?’
‘I did.’
‘Imprudent!’ said his mother. ‘You know what pains I have taken
to keep her from seeing too much of her father except when we are
present. Claudius sometimes sleeps off the fumes of wine, and after
a doze he can talk as sensibly as he ever does. Was Britannicus in
the Hall?’
‘Britannicus?’ said Nero. ‘Of course not. You have taken pains
enough, mother, to keep _him_ in the background. According to the
antique fashion which the Emperor has revived of late, you saw him
at the banquet, sitting at the end of the seat behind his father. But
the boys have been dismissed with their pedagogues long ago, and, for
all I know, Britannicus has been sent to bed.’
‘And for whose sake do I take these precautions?’ asked the Empress.
‘Is it not for your sake, ungrateful? Is it not that you may wear the
purple, and tower over the world as the Imperator Romanus?’
‘For my sake,’ thought Nero, ‘and for her own sake, too.’ But he
said nothing; and as he had not attained to the art of disguising his
thoughts from that keenest of observers, he bent down, to conceal a
smile, and kissed his mother’s cheek, with the murmured words, ‘Best
of mothers!’
‘Best of mothers! Yes; but for how long?’ said Agrippina. ‘When
once I have seated you on the throne--’ She broke off her sentence.
She had never dared to tell her son the fearful augury which the
Chaldeans had uttered of him: ‘He shall be Emperor, and shall kill
his mother.’ He had never dreamed that she had returned the answer:
‘Let him slay me, so he be Emperor.’
‘_Optima mater_, now and always,’ he replied. ‘But I am angry with
Britannicus--_very_ angry!’ and he stamped his foot.
‘Why? The boy is harmless enough. I thought you had him completely
under your power. You seem to be very good friends, and I have seen
you sitting together, and training your magpies and jays to talk,
quite amicably. Nay, though Britannicus hates me, I almost won his
heart--for two minutes--by promising to give him my talking-thrush,
which eyes us so curiously from its cage.’[3]
‘Give it to me, mother,’ said Nero. ‘A thrush that can talk as yours
can is the greatest rarity in the world, and worth ten times over its
weight in gold.’
‘No, Nero; Britannicus shall have it. I like to see him devoting
himself to such trifles. I have other views for you. But what has
the poor boy done to offend you?’
‘I met him in the Gelotian House,’ said Nero, ‘and how do you think
he dared to address me? _Me_--by sacred adoption the son of Claudius,
and, therefore, his elder brother?’
‘How?’
‘I said to him, quite civilly, “Good morning, Britannicus.” He
had actually the audacity to reply, “Good morning, _Ahenobarbus_!”
Ahenobarbus, indeed! I hate the name. I stand nearer to the divine
Augustus than he does.[4] What did he mean by it?’
Agrippina broke into a ripple of laughter. ‘The poor harmless lad!’
she said. ‘It merely was because his wits were wool-gathering, as his
father’s always are. No doubt he dislikes you--he has good reason to
do so; but he meant nothing by it.’
‘I doubt that,’ answered the youth. ‘I suspect that he was prompted
to insult me by Narcissus, or Pudens, or the knight Julius Densus or
some of the people who are still about him.’
‘Ah!’ said Agrippina, thoughtfully, ‘Narcissus is our most dangerous
enemy. He is much too proud of his ivory rod and prætor’s insignia.
But he is not unassailable. The Emperor was not pleased with the
failure of the canal for draining Lake Fucinus, and perhaps I can
get Domitius Afer or some one else, to accuse him of embezzling the
funds. How else could he have amassed 400,000,000 sesterces? He has
the gout very badly, and I will persuade him that it is necessary for
him to go to Campania for the benefit of his health. When once he is
out of the way--. But, Nero, I am expecting a visit from Pallas, with
whom I have much important business. Go back to the hall, my boy,
and keep your eyes open always as to what is going on.’
‘I will go back,’ said Nero; ‘but, mother, I sometimes wish that all
this was over. I wish I had not been forced to marry Octavia. I shall
never like her. I should like to have--’
He stopped, and blushed crimson, for his mother’s eagle eye was
upon him, and he had almost let out the secret of his sudden and
passionate love for Acte, the beautiful freedwoman of his wife.
‘Well?’ said Agrippina suspiciously, but not ill-pleased to see how
her son quailed before her imperious glance. ‘Go on.’
‘I meant nothing particular,’ he stammered, his cheek still dyed
with its deep blush, ‘but that I sometimes wish I were not going
to be Emperor at all. Julius was murdered. Augustus, they say, was
poisoned. Tiberius was suffocated. My uncle Gaius was stabbed with
many wounds. The life is not a happy one, and the dagger-stab too
often finds its way through the purple.’
‘Degenerate boy!’ said Agrippina; ‘I do not wonder that you blush. Is
it such a nothing to be a Lord of the World? Have you forgotten that
you are a grandson of Germanicus, and that the blood of the Cæsars as
well as of the Domitii flows in your veins? One would think you were
as ordinary a boy as Britannicus. For shame!’
‘Well, well, mother,’ he said, ‘you always get your own way with
every one. Pallas is in the anteroom, and I must go.’
Nero kissed her, and took his leave. Immediately afterwards the
slave announced that Pallas was awaiting the pleasure of the Empress.