Clement of Rome-Epistle to the Corinthians I: 5, 6.
Let us turn to the champions of recent times and pick out the noble examples provided by our generation. It was because of envy and malice that the greatest most upright pillars of the Church were persecuted and had to carry the contest to the point of death. Let us conjure up those good Apostles in our mind’s eye-Peter who, because of wicked envy, had to undergo not one, not two, but many sufferings and, having thus witnessed to our faith, went to the glorious place appointed for him; and it was because of jealousy and strife that Paul became an example of the reward to be won by patient endurance: for he was imprisoned seven times, driven into exile, stoned, became a preacher in both the East and the West, and thereby gained the noble renown which was the reward of his faith, after teaching goodness to the whole world and going to the very farthest West. And so, having witnessed to our faith before the authorities, he left the world and went to the holy place-having proved a splendid example of patient endurance.
These saintly men were joined by a vast number of the chosen who, being victims of jealousy, through many humiliations and tortures set a magnificent example among ourselves. And women who were persecuted through malice and underwent cruel, unholy tortures as Danaides and Dircae, safely attained the goal in the race of faith and, even though weak in body, won a noble prize.
Book VIII
Poppaea
My wife’s suggestion turned out to be true, insofar as two years elapsed before Nero dared to think seriously of divorcing Octavia. On his return to Rome after the death of his mother, he considered it politically more, prudent to send Poppaea away from Palatine and to spend his nights with her in secret. He pardoned many exiles, reinstated dismissed senators to office and distributed the colossal fortune he had inherited from Agrippina as bribes. Agrippina’s property, possessions and slaves, however, were not gready sought after by the Roman aristocracy. Nero gave the larger part of them to the people at the great circus performance at which he had lots cast out at random among the spectators.
To ease his conscience and win the favor of the people, Nero went as far as to suggest to the Senate that all direct taxation should be abolished. Naturally he himself realized this was impossible, but the Senate was placed in an ignominious position in the eyes of the people since they were forced to reject the suggestion immediately.
Considerable reforms were made on the levying of taxes, certain purchase taxes were lowered and most important of all, in future everyone was to have the right to know how, and why and on what sum he was to be taxed. The tax collectors grumbled bitterly, for they had lost their former right to extract their own bounty over and above the taxes, but the merchants stood to gain, as they could keep their prices the same and pay less purchase tax.
Nero also appeared in public before the crowd as a charioteer, for, according to his own statement, driving a team of horses had in the past been a sport of kings and gods. To set a good example to the aristocracy, he appeared in the great games on the Greek pattern as a dramatic singer, accompanying himself on the cittern. His voice had grown strong since his mother’s death, but for safety’s sake and to avoid demonstrations, Burrus ordered a troop of Praetorians to the theater to keep order and to applaud Nero. He himself set an example by clapping, although as a warrior he was deeply ashamed of the Emperor’s conduct. Presumably he also thought that Nero might well have taken up even more shameful pursuits.
The result was that Greek fashions finally conquered Rome. Most of the senators and the members of the Noble Order of Knights took part in Nero’s games. Noble girls performed Greek dances and even elderly matrons demonstrated the suppleness of their limbs in the circus. I personally had nothing against these amusements, for they saved me much trouble and expense, but except for the races, the people did not like them very much. In their opinion, professional singers, musicians, dancers and actors performed incomparably better than amateurs. The disappointment was great when no wild animals were displayed in the intervals, not to mention gladiators. The older generation among the nobility was appalled, for they considered gymnastic exercises, hot baths and effeminate music to be weakening Roman youth and their capacity to fight at a moment when Rome needed experienced tribunes.
Like an evil omen, war again broke out in Armenia, and a dreadful woman called Boadicea united the British tribes in a devastating rebellion in Britain. A whole legion was annihilated, two Roman towns were razed to the ground and the Procurator lost control to such an extent that he had to flee across to Gaul.
I think Queen Boadicea would never have won so many adherents in Britain had the legions not been forced to live off the country, and had the interest on the loans made by Seneca to the British princes ever been paid, for the barbarians still did not understand the present monetary system.
The younger knights turned out to be reluctant to volunteer to be impaled and burned by Boadicea, but preferred to play their citterns in Rome, clad in Greek tunics and wearing their hair long. Before the situation had clarified, Nero even suggested to the Senate that the legions should be withdrawn altogether from Britain, where there was nothing but trouble. The country was devouring more than it produced. If we abandoned Britain, three legions would be released to lessen the pressure from the Parthians in the East. The fourth had already been lost.
During the violent discussion in the Senate which followed, Seneca, the spokesman for peace and love of humanity, made a brilliant speech in which he referred to the god Claudius’ triumphs in Britain.
An Emperor could not refute his adoptive father’s conquests without ruining his reputation. Actually, Seneca was of course thinking of the enormous sums of money he had invested in Britain.
One of the senators asked whether it had been absolutely necessary to murder seventy thousand citizens and allies and to plunder and burn two flourishing towns to ashes just to protect Seneca’s profits. Seneca turned very red and assured the Senate that the Roman money invested in Britain went toward civilizing the country and to fostering trade and buying power. This could be confirmed by other senators who had invested their money there.
“The omens are alarming,” someone called.
But Seneca defended himself and assured them that it was not his fault if some untrustworthy British kings had used the money from loans for their own private purposes and the secret acquisition of arms. The conduct of the legions was the main reason for the war, so the commantlers should be punished and reinforcements should be sent to Britain.
To abandon Britain completely was of course much too bitter a pill for the Senate to swallow. That much of Rome’s former pride at least remains. So it was decided not to evacuate the country, but to send more troops there instead. Several incensed senators forced their grown sons to have their hair cut and take up service as tribunes in Britain. They took their citterns with them, but the ravaged towns and the cruelties and shrill war cries of the Britons soon caused them to throw them away and fight courageously.
I have special reason for dwelling on the events in Britain, although I myself did not witness them. Boadicea was the Queen of the Icenis. After her husband’s death the legions had interpreted his will so that his land became Roman hereditary property. Boadicea was a woman and cared nothing for the law. We ourselves needed learned lawyers to interpret wills correcdy. When Boadicea contested the decision and appealed to the Britons’ law of inheritance on the distaff side, she was flogged by the legionaries, her daughters were raped and her property looted. The legionaries had also turned many Iceni noblemen out of their estates and committed murder and other atrocities.
Legally, right was on their side for the King, who had not been able to read or write, had in fact had a will drawn up in which he left his land to the Emperor, thinking that in this way he was securing the position of his widow and daughters against the envy of the Iceni noblemen. The Icenis had from the beginning been allies of the Romans, although they had no special love for them.
After the arrival of the reinforcements, a decisive battle was fought and the Britons, led by this vengeful woman, were defeated. The Romans avenged Boadicea’s brutalities to Roman women, whom, because of the insult she had suffered, she had allowed her people to treat abominably. Soon a stream of British slaves began to arrive in Rome-admittedly only women and half-grown boys, for adult Britons are useless as slaves-and much to the people’s disappointment, Nero had forbidden the use of prisoners-of-war in the battles in the amphitheater.
One lovely day I was visited by a slave dealer who was dragging a ten-year-old boy by a rope. He behaved secretively, winking repeatedly at me in the hopes that I would send any witnesses out of the room. Then he lengthily complained of the bad times, his innumerable expenses and the shortage of willing buyers. The boy looked around with angry eyes.
“This young warrior,” explained the slave dealer, “tried to defend his mother with his sword when our incensed legionaries raped and killed her. Out of respect for the boy’s courage, the soldiers did not kill him but sold him to me. As you see from his straight limbs, his fine skin and green eyes, he is of noble Iceni descent. He can ride, swim and use a bow and arrow. Believe it or not, he can even write a little too and he speaks a few words of Latin. I’ve heard it said that you might like to buy him and pay me more than if I offered him for sale in the slave market.”
‘Whoever told you that?” I exclaimed in surprise. “I’ve more than enough slaves. They make my life intolerable and deprive me of my own freedom, not to mention real wealth, which is solitude.”
“A certain Petro, an Iceni physician in the service of Rome, recognized the boy in London,” said the slave dealer. “He gave me your name and assured me you would pay me the highest price for the boy. But who can trust a Briton? Show your book, boy.”
He cuffed the boy over the head. The boy rummaged in his belt and drew out the remains of a torn and dirty Chaldaean-Egyptian book of dreams. I recognized it as soon as I touched it, and my limbs and joints dissolved into water.
“Is your mother’s name Lugunda?” I asked the boy, although I knew the answer. Petro’s name alone confirmed that the boy was my own son whom I had never seen. I wanted to take him in my arms and acknowledge him as my son, although there were no witnesses available, but the boy hit me in the face with his fist and bit my cheek. The slave dealer’s face darkened with rage and he fumbled for his whip.
“Don’t hit him,” I said. “I’ll buy the boy. What’s your price?”
The slave dealer looked at me appraisingly and again spoke of his outlays and losses.
“To be rid of him,” he said finally, “I’ll sell him at the lowest price. A hundred gold pieces. The boy is still untamed.”
Ten thousand sesterces was an insane price to pay for a half-grown boy when bedworthy young women were on offer in the market for a few gold pieces. It was not just the price, for naturally I should have paid an even higher one if necessary, but I had to sit down and think hard as I looked at the boy. The slave dealer misunderstood my silence and began to speak for his goods, explaining that there were several rich men in Rome who had acquired eastern habits and for whom the boy was of a choice age. But he lowered his price, first to ninety and then to eighty gold pieces.
In fact I was only wondering how I could make the purchase without my son becoming a slave. A formal purchase would have to be made at the tabellarium, where the contract would be confirmed and the boy would have to be branded with my own symbol of ownership, MM, after which he would never again be able to gain Roman citizenship, even if he were freed.
“Perhaps I could have him trained as a charioteer,” I said at last. “The Petro you mention was in fact a friend of mine when I was serving in Britain. I trust his recommendation. Couldn’t we arrange it so that you give me a written certificate to say that Petro, as the boy’s guardian, has assigned to you the task of bringing him here for me to look after him?”
The slave dealer gave me a sly look.
“I am the one who has to pay the purchase tax on him, not you,” he said. “I can’t really knock off any more from the price.”
I scratched my head. The matter was very involved and could easily have appeared to be an attempt to circumvent the high tax on slaves. But I might as well benefit in some way from my position as son-in-law to the City Prefect.
I put on my toga and the three of us set off for the temple of Mercury. Among the people there, I soon found a citizen who had lost his rank of knight and who, for a reasonable sum, agreed to stand as the other necessary witness to the oath. Thus a document could be drawn up and confirmed with a double oath.
According to this, the boy was a freeborn Briton whose parents, Ituna and Lugunda, had been killed in the war because of their friendship for Rome. Through the mediation of the physician Petro, they had sent their son to the security of Rome in good time, to have him brought up by their guest and friend, the knight Minutus Lausus Manilianus.
In a special clause it was stipulated that I, as his guardian, should hold a watching brief for his inheritance in the Iceni country when peace was finally declared in Britain. This strengthened my case to some extent, for the Mercury priests took it that I had something to gain from the boy at the distribution of war spoils.
‘What shall we put down as his name?” asked the notary.
“Jucundus,” I said. It was the first name that came into my head.
They all burst into relieved laughter, for the sullen boy was anything but a picture of sweetness. The priest said that I was going to be hard put to make a good Roman of him.
The drawing up and sealing of the deeds and the customary gift to the Mercury priests came to a considerably larger sum than the purchase tax would have done. The slave dealer began to regret the deal and took me for a cleverer purchaser than I in fact was. He had already taken his oath, however, but in the end I paid him the hundred gold pieces he had at first asked, just to be rid of him without further ado.
When we finally left the temple of Mercury, the boy unexpectedly thrust his hand into mine as if he felt lonely in the everyday noise and bustle of the street. I was seized with a strange feeling as I held his small hand and led him home through the josding city of Rome. I thought of the possibility of acquiring Roman citizenship for him when he was older, and then adopting him if I could persuade Sabina to agree. But those problems would come later.
Nevertheless, I had more trouble than joy from my son Jucundus. At first he would not even speak and I thought the horrors of war had turned him dumb. He smashed many objects in the house and refused to wear the clothes of a Roman boy. Claudia made no headway with him at all. The first time Jucundus saw a Roman boy of his own age outside the house, he rushed at him and beat him over the head with a stone until Barbus managed to intervene. Barbus suggested a severe beating, but I thought one should try more gende methods first and spoke to the boy myself.
“I’m sure you are mourning your mother’s death,” I said. “You were dragged here with a rope around your neck like a dog. But you aren’t a dog. You must grow up and become a man. We all wish the best for you. Tell us what you would like to do most?”
“Kill Romans!” cried Jucundus.
I sighed with relief, for at least the boy could speak after all.
“You can’t do that here in Rome,” I said. “But you can learn Roman customs and habits and one day perhaps I can make you into a Roman knight. If you stick to your plans, you can return to Britain when you are older and kill Romans in the Roman way. The Roman art of war is better than the British, as you yourself have seen.”
Jucundus sulked, but my words had perhaps some effect on him.
“Barbus is an old veteran,” I went on craftily, “even if his head does shake. Ask him. He can tell you about batdes and warfare much better than I can.”
So, Barbus once again had the opportunity to tell the story of the time when he had swum fully equipped across the Danube between the ice floes with a wounded centurion on his back. He could show his scars and explain why unconditional obedience and a hardened body were the inescapable foundations for efficiency as a warrior. He acquired a taste for wine again and he wandered about Rome with the boy, taking him to bathe in the Tiber and teaching him to express himself pungently in the Latin of the people.
But Barbus was also troubled by his wild temper and one day took me to one side.
“Jucundus is a bright boy,” he said, “but even I, hardened old man that I am, am horrified by his descriptions of what he is going to do to both Roman men and women one day. I’m afraid he witnessed terrible things when the Britons’ rebellion was crushed. The worst of it is, he keeps rushing up the slopes to shout curses over Rome in his barbaric language. In secret he worships gods of the underworld and sacrifices mice to them. It’s quite obvious that he is possessed by evil powers. Nothing will come of his upbringing until he is freed of his demons.”
“How can we do that?” I asked doubtfully.
“Cephas of the Christians is a great one for driving out demons,” said Barbus, avoiding my eyes. “He’s the cleverest man I’ve ever met at that sort of thing. At his command, a raving man becomes as gende as a lamb.”
Barbus was afraid I would be angry, but on the contrary, I thought that for once it might prove of some use that I put up with Christian meetings and meals in my house and allowed my slaves to believe what they liked. When Barbus saw that I was in favor, he eagerly began to tell me that Cephas, with the help of his pupils who knew Latin, was teaching children humility and obedience to their parents. Many citizens who were troubled by young people’s increasing lack of discipline sent their children to their holy day school, at which, in addition, the instruction was quite free.
Several weeks later, Jucundus came running up to me of his own accord, seized my hand and dragged me into my room.
“Is it true?” he said. “That there’s an invisible kingdom and that the Romans crucified the king? And that he’s coming back any time now, and then he’ll throw all the Romans into the fire?”
I thought the boy showed sound judgment in not immediately believing what he was told, but coming to me for confirmation. At the same time, however, I was put in an awkward position.
“It’s true the Romans crucified him,” I said cautiously. “On a notice on the cross it said that he was the king of the Jews. My father saw it happen with his own eyes at the time and he still maintains that the sky darkened and the mountains were rent when he died. The leading Christians think he’ll come back quite soon. And it’s about time, for it’s over thirty years since his death now.”
“Cephas is an Archdruid,” said Jucundus. “He’s more powerful than the Druids of Britain, although he’s a Jew. He demands all sorts of things, just like the Druids. One must wash oneself and wear clean clothes, one must pray, tolerate insults, turn the other cheek if someone hits one, and he’s got other tests of self-control too, just like Petro. And we have secret signs too, by which the initiated recognize each other.”
“I’m sure Cephas does not teach you any ill,” I said, “and the exercises he asks of you demand great strength of will. But you must realize that all those are secrets. You mustn’t talk about them to anyone.”
Pretending the utmost secrecy, I took my mother’s wooden goblet out of the chest and showed it to Jucundus.
“This is a magic goblet,” I told him. “The king of the Jews himself once drank from it. Now we’ll drink from it together, but it is so secret that you mustn’t ever tell anyone, not even Cephas.”
I mixed wine and water in the goblet and we drank from it together, my son and I, in the dimly lit room. I had the impression that the liquid did not lessen in the goblet, but it was only an illusion caused by the poor lighting. I was seized with a great tenderness and I suddenly realized, as if in a vision, that I must tell the truth about Jucundus to my father, in case anything should happen to me.
Without further ado, we set out for Tullia’s fine house on Viminalis. Jucundus behaved perfectly and looked around with wide-open eyes, for he had never seen such a magnificent private house. Senator Pud-ens, who was Cephas’ patron, lived in an old-fashioned way and I had not made any alterations to my house on Aventine, although it had become very cramped over the years. To rebuild it would have upset Aunt Laelia.
I left the boy with Tullia and shut myself up with my father in his room to tell him all about Jucundus. To tell the truth, I had not seen my father for a long time. I felt pity for him when I saw how bald and round-shouldered he had become, but of course he was already over sixty. He listened to me without comment and without once looking straight at me. Finally he spoke.
“The destinies of fathers appear in distorted forms in their sons,” he said. “Your own mother was a Greek from the islands and your son’s mother was a Briton from the Iceni tribe. In my youth, I was dragged into a shameful scandal of poisoning and falsifying a will. I have heard such terrible things about you that I cannot really believe them. I have never been especially pleased about your marriage to Sabina, even if her father is the City Prefect, and I have no desire to go and see the son she has borne you, your Lausus, for reasons I need hardly explain to you. What spark of wisdom made you have Jucundus brought up by Cephas? Cephas and I have been acquainted since the days of Galilee. He is less brusque and excitable than he was then. What plans have you for the boy’s future?”
“It would be best,” I said, “if I could get him into the school on Palatine where famous orators and pupils of Seneca train the sons of our allied kings and the provincial nobility. His wretched Latin would not attract attention there. He could make useful friends among his contemporaries, if only Cephas can subdue him a little first. When the administration of Britain is reorganized, there will be a need for a new Romanized aristocracy. The boy is of noble Iceni stock on the distaff side. But for some reason, Nero does not want to see me at the moment, although we are friends.”
“I am a member of the Senate,” said my father after a moment’s thought, “and I have never before begged a favor of Nero. I have also learned to keep my mouth shut in the Senate, which is more due to Tullia than to me, as I have lived with her during all these years and she has always had the last word. The situation is very confused and the records in Britain have been destroyed, so a clever lawyer could easily find evidence that the boy’s parents had received Roman citizenship in return for their services. It should be even easier as his father is not known. And it wouldn’t even be distorting the truth if you once went through a British form of marriage with his mother. Your own mother has a statue outside the Council House in Myrina. You could pay for a statue of your Lugunda in the Claudius temple when Colchester is rebuilt. I consider you owe that to the mother of your son.”
The strangest thing of all was that Tullia meanwhile had become quite enchanted by Jucundus and could not do enough for him. In spite of her strenuous efforts, her plump beauty had begun to fade and her chins had become a wrinkled bag. When she heard about the sad fate of Jucundus’ mother, she burst into tears and swept him into her arms.
“I can see from his mouth, nose and eyebrows and also from his eyes, that the boy is of noble birth,” she cried. “His parents must have possessed every merit except discrimination, since they’ve appointed a man like Minutus as his guardian. Believe me, I can tell gold from brass at a glance.”
Jucundus patiendy endured her caresses and kisses like a sacrificial lamb. Cephas’ training was already bearing fruit.
“The gods never allowed me children of my own,” Tullia went on sadly, “only miscarriages which I went to great trouble to arrange in my youth and during my two marriages. My third husband was sterile because of his great age, even if he was otherwise rich. And Marcus wasted his seed on a Greek pleasure-girl. But enough of that. I do not wish to offend the memory of your mother, my dear Minutus. This British boy I see as a good omen in our house. Marcus, you must save the handsome Jucundus from your feeble son’s guardianship. Who knows, otherwise Sabina might turn him into an animal trainer one day. Couldn’t we adopt him and bring him up as our own child?”
I was paralyzed with surprise and at first my father did not know what to say either. Now that I think about it, I can only imagine that there must have been some supernatural power within my mother’s wooden goblet.
In this way I was relieved of a heavy duty, for at that time I was not really fit to bring up anyone, no more then than now. This I have learned from you, Julius. For many reasons my reputation was not a good one, while my father was regarded as a good-natured fool. He had no ambitions and no one thought he would ever willingly become involved in political intrigues.
As an expert in Eastern matters, he had filled the office of Praetor for two months for the sake of form. He had once, from sheer good will, been proposed as Consul. If Jucundus became his adoptive son, the boy would have incomparably better prospects than he would under my protection. And as a senator’s son he could be written into the rolls of knights as soon as he had shed his boy’s clothes.
Shortly after I had solved this problem, I heard that the Praetorian Prefect Burrus had developed a boil in his throat and was dying. Nero hastily sent his own personal physician to attend him. When Burrus was informed of this, he drew up his will and sent it for safekeeping to the Vestal temple.
Not until then did he allow the physician to paint his throat with an infallible remedy on a feather. The next night he was well and truly dead. Presumably he would have died in any case, for blood poisoning had set in and he had begun to be delirious with fever.
Burrus was buried with great ceremony. Before the pyre was lit on Mars field, Nero proclaimed Tigellinus Praetorian Prefect. This former horse dealer did not have sufficient judicial experience, so Fenius Ru-fus, a man of Jewish descent, formerly very widely traveled in his capacity as State Inspector of the grain trade, was appointed to deal with external cases.
I walked the whole length of the goldsmiths’ street to find a sufficiently worthy gift. Finally I decided on a multistringed necklace of faultless pearls and with it I sent the following letter to Poppaea Sabina:
Minutus Lausus Manilianus greets Poppaea Sabina: Venus was born from the foam of the waves. Pearls are a worthy gift to Venus, but the most faultless radiance of these humble Parthian pearls cannot compare with the shimmer of your complexion. I can never forget it. I hope these pearls will remind you of our friendship. Certain signs and omens show that the prophecy you were once pleased to reveal to me is about to be fulfilled.
Obviously I was the first to interpret the omens so skillfully, for Poppaea sent for me at once, thanked me for the beautiful gift and tried to find out how I could have known that she was pregnant, when she herself had known only a few days before. I could only point out my
Etruscan heritage, which sometimes helped me with unusual dreams.
“After his mother’s death,” said Poppaea, “Nero was upset and tried to push me to one side. But now all is well again. He needs his real friends who will stand by him and support him in his policies.”
This was indeed true, for after he had publicly reproached Octavia for barrenness and informed the Senate that he was thinking of separating from her, violent disturbances had broken out in the city. To test the feelings of the people, Nero had a statue of Poppaea erected in the forum near the Vestal Virgins’ well. A crowd threw it down, garlanded the statues of Octavia and then made their way up to Palatine, so that the Praetorians had to take to their arms to persuade them to go away.
I suspected that Seneca’s clever fingers were in this game, since the uprising and demonstration had been so spontaneous and apparently well planned. Nero, however, was badly frightened and at once recalled Octavia, who was on her way to Campania on his orders. Jubilant crowds followed her sedan and offers of thanksgiving were made in the temples of the Capitoline when she was back in Palatine.
The following day, for the first time in two years, I received an urgent summons from Nero. One of Octavia’s servant girls had accused her of adultery with an Alexandrian flute player called Eucerus. The trial was held in secret and had been arranged by Tigellinus. Octavia herself was not present.
I was heard as a witness, as I knew Eucerus. I could only say that flute music itself is inclined to give people frivolous thoughts. I had with my own eyes seen Octavia sighing, her melancholy gaze on Eucerus as he played at dinner. But, I added for the sake of justice, Octavia sighed on other occasions too, apd was of a melancholy temperament, as everyone knew.
Octavia’s slaves underwent interrogations that were so painful I began to feel slightly sick as I watched. Some of them were prepared to confess but could nqt explain when, where and how the adultery had taken place. Tigellinus intervened in the interrogation, which was not going as he had wished, and impatiently said to a pretty girl, “Wasn’t this adultery a subject of general conversation among the servants?”
“If one believed everything people say,” the girl snapped back in reply, “then Octavia’s private parts are incomparably more chaste than your mouth, Tigellinus.”
The laughter was so great that the interrogation had to be broken off. Tigellinus’ vices were well known. He had now also revealed his legal ignorance by using leading questions to make the slaves admit something which was obviously not true. The judges’ sympathies were with the slaves and they would not allow Tigellinus to cause them lasting harm against the injunctions of the law.
The court adjourned until the following day. Then the only witness to appear was the Commantler of the Fleet, my old friend Anicetus. With feigned embarrassment he related, carefully giving time and place, how Octavia, while in Baiae to bathe, had shown a surprising interest in the fleet and had personally wished to make the acquaintance of the captains and the centurions.
Anicetus had misunderstood her intentions and had made approaches to her, which Octavia had nevertheless definitely rejected. Then Anicetus, blinded by criminal lust, had drugged her with a narcotic drink and used her, but later had bitterly regretted his deed. He could now only plead for the Emperor’s mercy, for his conscience had made him confess his crime.
That Anicetus had a conscience at all was news to everyone, himself included, I should think. But the divorce was confirmed by the court, Octavia was exiled to the island of Pandataria, and the faithful Anicetus sent to the naval base in Sardinia. And Nero managed without Seneca’s help to compose an eloquent account of what had happened for the Senate of Rome and the people. In this he implied that Octavia, relying on Burrus, had thought that she had the Praetorian Guard on her side. To win the support of the navy, she had seduced the naval commantler, Anicetus, but had become pregnant and, in the knowledge of her own depravity, had criminally caused an abortion.
This statement bore an authentic ring to those who did not personally know Octavia. I myself read it in wonder, for I had been present at the secret trial. But I realized that a certain exaggeration was necessary, because of Octavia’s popularity among the people.
To avoid demonstrations, Nero immediately had all the statues of Octavia destroyed. But the people withdrew indoors as if in mourning, and at the Senate there was not even a quorum, so many stayed away. There was no discussion on Nero’s statement, for it was not a bill but only a directive from the Emperor.
Twelve days later Nero was married to Poppaea Sabina, but the wedding celebrations were not particularly gay. Nevertheless, the wedding presents filled an entire room in Palatine.
As usual, Nero had a careful list of the gifts made and saw to it that every donor received an official letter of thanks. Rumor had it that he had also had a special list drawn up of those senators and knights who had not sent a gift or who on account of illness had not attended the wedding. So, simultaneously with gifts from the provinces, there poured in a number of late presents together with many explanations and apologies. The Jewish Council in Rome sent Poppaea goblets made of gold and decorated with grapes, worth half a million sesterces.
Statues of Poppaea Sabina were erected all over Rome in place of those of Octavia. Tigellinus had the Praetorians guard them day and night so that some people who, in all innocence, wishing to garland them with wreaths received a jab in the face from a shield or a blow from the flat of a sword for their pains.
One night someone pulled a sack over the head of the giant statue of Nero on the Capitoline. The news soon spread all over Rome and everyone realized what lay behind it. According to the laws of our forefathers, a patricide or a matricide shall be drowned in a sack together with a snake, a cat and a cockerel. As far as I know, this was the first time anyone had publicly implied that Nero had killed his mother.
My father-in-law, Flavius Sabinus, was very worried by the oppressive atmosphere which lay over Rome. When he heard that a live adder had been found on one of the marble floors at Palatine, he ordered the police to keep their eyes skinned for every possible demonstration. This was how the wife of a rich senator came to be arrested for carrying her cat with her on her evening walk. A slave on his way to the temple of Aesculapius with a cockerel he was to sacrifice for his master’s health was flogged. This provoked general merriment, although my father-in-law was only acting in good faith, with no ill intentions. Nero, however, was so angry with him that he lost his office for a while.
For all of us who could think reasonably, it was as clear as daylight that the rejection of Octavia was being used as an excuse for a general blackening of Nero’s name in every way. Poppaea Sabina was more beautiful and much cleverer than the fastidious Octavia, although this was her third marriage. But the older generation did everything they could to stir up trouble among the people.
In fact I felt my throat many times during those days and wondered what it would be like to lose one’s head. A military coup was imminent, for the Praetorians did not like Tigellinus, who was of low descent and a former horse dealer, and who maintained discipline ruthlessly. He soon quarreled with his colleague in office, Fenius Rufus, so that they could no longer remain in the same room together. One, usually Rufus, always left.
We who were Nero’s friends and honestly wished him well, gathered at Palatine in a solemn council. Tigellinus was the eldest and the one with the strongest will, so however much we disliked him, we still turned to him and he spoke seriously to Nero.
“Here in the city,” he said, “I can guarantee order and your safety. But in Massilia there is the exiled Sulla who has Antonia’s support. He is poor and prematurely gray from his humiliations. I know from reliable sources that he has connections in noble circles in Gaul, people who admire Antonia because of her own great name and because she is Claudius’ daughter. The legions in Germany are also so near that Sulla’s very presence in Massilia is a danger to the State and the common good.”
Nero admitted this and said in despair, “I cannot imagine why no one loves Poppaea Sabina as I do. At the moment she is in a delicate condition and must not be exposed to the slightest excitement.”
“Plautius is an even greater danger to you,” Tigellinus went on. “It was a great mistake to exile him to Asia, where it was unruly enough without him. His grandfather was a Drusus. Who can guarantee that Corbulo and his legions will remain loyal to you? His father-in-law, Senator Lucius Antistius, has sent one of his freedmen there to urge Plautius to make the most of the opportunity. This I have from trustworthy sources. In addition he is very wealthy, and with an ambitious man, that is just as dangerous as poverty.”
“I know the situation in Asia quite well,” I put in. “I’ve heard that Plautius only keeps company with philosophers. The Etruscan Muso-nius, who is a good friend of the world-famous Apollonius from Tyana, voluntarily went into exile with him.”
Tigellinus struck his hands together triumphantly.
“You see, my lord!” he cried. “Philosophers are the worst advisers of all when they whisper their outrageous views on freedom and tyranny into young men’s ears.”
“Who can even suggest that I am a tyrant?” said Nero indignandy. “I have given the people more freedom than any other ruler before me. And I meekly submit all my proposals to the Senate for their approval.”
We hurriedly assured him that as far as the welfare of the nation was concerned, he was the mildest and most liberal ruler one could imagine. But now it was a matter of what was best for the State and there was nothing more terrible than civil war.
At that moment, Poppaea Sabina came rushing in, scantily dressed, her hair hanging loose and tears pouring down her cheeks. She flung herself down in front of Nero, rubbed her breasts against his knees and pleaded with him.
“I don’t mind for myself,” she said, “or my position, or even for our unborn son, but this is a matter of your life, dearest Nero. Trust Tigellinus. He knows what he is saying.”
Poppaea’s physician had agitatedly followed her in.
“There is a risk of a miscarriage if she does not have peace of mind,” he said, gently trying to disengage her from Nero.
“How can I ever have peace of mind as long as that loathsome woman plots away on Pandataria?” wailed Poppaea. “She has insulted your marriage bed, she practices the worst kind of witchcraft and has several times tried to poison me. I’ve been sick several times today, just because I’m so frightened.”
“He who has once chosen his way can no longer look back,” said Tigellinus with conviction. “I appeal to your magnanimity as our friend, if you won’t think of your own life, Nero. You are putting all our lives in danger with your indecisiveness. The first to be swept away in the coup will be those who wish you well and are not just pressing their own advantage, as Seneca is, for instance. Faced with the inevitable, the gods themselves must bow down.”
Nero’s eyes filled with tears of sorrow.
“Be my witnesses,” he declared, “you who can confirm that this is the most burdensome moment of my life, when my personal feelings must give way for the State and the common good. I comply with what is politically unavoidable.”
Tigellinus’ hard face lit up and he raised his arm in greeting.
“Now you are a true ruler, Nero,” he said. “Trustworthy Praetorians are already on their way to Massilia. I have sent a whole maniple to Asia with the possibility of armed resistance in mind. I could not endure the thought of those who envy you using this opportunity to overthrow you and injure the fatherland.”
Instead of being angry at his high-handedness, Nero let out a sigh of relief and praised him as a true friend. Then he absentmindedly asked how long it took a courier to get to Pandataria.
Only a few days later, Poppaea Sabina asked me secretively, “Would you like to see the best wedding present I’ve had from Nero?”
She led me to her room, lifted a brown-flecked cloth from a willow basket and showed me Octavia’s bloodless head. Screwing up her delightful nose, she said, “Ugh, it’s beginning to smell and collect flies. My physician has ordered me to throw it away, but looking at this wedding present now and again convinces me more than anything else that I really am the Imperial consort.
“Just think,” she went on. “When the Praetorians came to put her in a hot bath so that her veins could be opened painlessly, like a little girl who has broken her doll, she cried, ‘I haven’t done anything.’ She was, after all, twenty years old. But she must have been backward in some way. Who knows with whom Messalina conceived her? Perhaps simply the deranged Claudius.”
Nero demantled that the Senate should decide on thank-offerings in the temples of the Capitoline for the averting of the danger to the State. Twelve days later, Faustus Sulla’s prematurely gray head arrived from Massilia and the Senate voluntarily decided to continue with the thank-offerings.
In the city a stubborn rumor spread that Plautius had started a rebellion in Asia. Civil war and a defeat in the East were considered so likely that the price of gold and silver began to rise and a number of people hurriedly sold both land and city apartments cheaply. I took the opportunity to make some very profitable deals.
When Plautius’ head eventually arrived from Asia after some delay caused by storms, public relief was so great that not only the Senate but also individual citizens made thank-offerings. Nero made the most of the situation and reinstated Rufus in his former office as Inspector for the grain trade and at the same time promoted him to Procurator for the State Grain Stores. Tigellinus weeded out the Praetorians and pensioned several off early to the veteran colony in Puteoli. For my part, I was at least five million sesterces richer after these events.
Seneca took part in the festive processions and thank-offerings, but many people noticed that his legs were unsteady and his hands trembled violently. He was already over sixty-five and had become considerably fatter, his face swollen and his cheekbones blue. Nero kept out of his way as much as possible and avoided being left alone with him so as not to have to listen to his reproaches.
But one day Seneca applied for an official audience. For safety’s sake, Nero gathered his friends around him, hoping that in spite of everything, Seneca would not accuse him in public. But Seneca made an elegant speech in his honor, praising him for his foresight and the determination with which he had preserved the fatherland from the dangers which had threatened it, dangers which Seneca’s own aging eyes had not been able to discern. After this meeting, Seneca ceased to receive anyone who wished to meet him, dismissed his guard of honor and moved out into the country to his beautiful estate on the road to Praeneste. He put forward his poor health as a reason and explained that he was occupied with a philosophical treatise into the pleasures of denial. It was said that he held to a strict diet and avoided people, so that he did not have much pleasure from his great wealth.
I was given the surprising honor of being appointed Praetor Extraordinary in the middle of a term of office. For this appointment I presumably had Poppaea’s friendship to thank, as well as Tigellinus’ opinion that I was a weak-willed man. Troubled by the atmosphere the political murders had created and the tension over Poppaea’s pregnancy, Nero felt the need to show himself as a good ruler by clearing up all the foreign lawsuits which had accumulated to an inexcusable extent at the Praetorium.
I think that Nero’s self-confidence was strengthened by an unexpected omen. During a sudden thunderstorm, a flash of lightning knocked a gold goblet out of his hand. I do not think the lightning in fact struck the actual goblet, but probably struck so near him that the goblet fell out of his hand. The event was hushed up, but it was soon generally known in the city and was interpreted, of course, as an ill omen.
But according to the Etruscans’ ancient lore of lightning, a person who is struck by lightning without being killed is holy and dedicated to the gods. Nero, who willingly believed in omens, now seriously began to regard himself as a holy man and tried for a while to behave accordingly, as long as the political murders still burdened his oversensitive conscience.
When I took up my appointment at the Praetorium, Tigellinus put at my disposal a room choked with a dusty collection of documents. All of them were lawsuits in which Roman citizens resident abroad were appealing to the Emperor. Tigellinus put some of them to one side.
“I have received considerable gifts to hurry these on,” he said. “Prepare them first. I have chosen you to help because you have shown a certain flexibility in difficult matters of some urgency and also because you yourself are so wealthy that your integrity need not be doubted. The other opinions expressed about you in the Senate at your appointment were not flattering. See to it then that rumor of our integrity is spread all through the provinces. If you are offered gifts, refuse them, although you may indicate that I as Prefect might possibly hurry the matter on. But remember that the final verdict of the Praetorium cannot under any circumstances be bought. Only Nero himself pronounces the verdict, guided by our advice.”
He turned to leave, but then added, “We have had a Jewish magician here under arrest for two years. He must be released, for during Pop-paea’s pregnancy she must not be exposed to any witchcraft. Poppaea favors the Jews all too much. I do not want to meet him myself. This Jew has already bewitched several of his guards among the Praetorians, to the extent that they are now useless as guards.”
My task was not quite so difficult as I had first thought. Most of the cases stemmed from Burrus’ day and were already marked with reports by a more knowledgeable lawyer than I. After Agrippina’s death, Nero had avoided Burrus and pushed the lawsuits to one side, to expose him to general dissatisfaction over the slowness of litigation.
Out of curiosity, I immediately went through the papers concerning the Jewish magician. To my surprise, I saw that they were about my old acquaintance Saul of Tarsus. He was accused of insulting the temple in Jerusalem, and to judge by the papers, he had been arrested there when Felix had been relieved of his office because he was Pallas’ brother. The new Procurator Festus had sent Paul to prison in Rome and I saw that he really had been under arrest for two years.
Nevertheless, he had permission to live freely in the city, while he himself paid for his guard, and among the documents was a statement from Seneca recommending his release. I did not know that Paul was wealthy enough to be able to afford an appeal to the Emperor.
Within two days I had sorted out a number of cases in which Nero could show his mildness and generosity, but with my knowledge of Saul-Paul, I considered it wisest to visit him in his quarters beforehand so that at the Imperial court he did not make the mistake of wasting Nero’s time with unnecessary talk. His release was already decided on.
Paul was living quite comfortably in two rooms he had rented in the house of a Jewish fancy goods merchant. He had aged considerably. His face was lined and he was even balder than before. According to the regulations he was, of course, in shackles, but his double guard of Praetorians allowed him to look after himself, receive guests and send letters wherever he wished.
Two pupils lived with him and he also had his own physician, a Jew called Lucas from Alexandria. As far as I could make out, Paul was quite well off, since he could afford such comfortable quarters and benevolent guards instead of the stinking communal cells of the public prison. The worst prison, the Mamertine carcer, would not have been in question for him, for he was not a State criminal.
In the documents he was naturally called Saul, which was his legal name, but to put him in a friendly mood I greeted him as Paul. He recognized me at once and returned my greeting so intimately that I thought it best to send my clerk and both lictors out of the room to avoid being suspected of recusance in the court.
“Your case is being attended to,” I told him. “It will be settled in a few days’ time. The Emperor is in a good mood before die birth of his heir. But you must control yourself when you appear before him.”
Paul smiled the smile of a man who has endured a great deal.
“I am commantled to preach the good message,” he said, “whether the moment is suitable or not.”
I asked him out of curiosity why the Praetorians considered him a magician. He told me a long story about how he and his companions had been shipwrecked on their way to Rome. The physician Lucas filled in the story when Paul grew tired. Paul assured me that the charge of insulting the temple in Jerusalem was a false one and without foundation, or at least due to a misunderstanding. Procurator Felix would have unhesitatingly released him if he had agreed to pay enough.
He had nothing but good to say of the Romans, for by taking him from Jerusalem to Caesarea they had saved his life. Forty fanatical Jews had sworn neither to eat nor drink until they had put him to death. But it was unlikely that they had starved to death, Paul said with a smile and without rancor. In fact he was grateful to his guards, for he was afraid that otherwise the faithful Jews in Rome would murder him.
I assured him that his fears were groundless, for during Claudius’ reign the Jews had had a sufficiendy stern warning and now avoided violence against the Christians within the city walls. Cephas had also had a calming influence in Rome and had persuaded the Christians to keep away from the Jews. I also added that this had been made much easier by the adherents of Jesus of Nazareth, who had now, thanks to Cephas, increased considerably in number and included very few circumcised Jews among them.
Both Lucas the physician and Paul looked sour when Cephas’ name was mentioned. Cephas had shown great friendliness to the prisoner and had offered the services of his best pupil and Greek interpreter, Marcus. Paul had evidently abused this confidence and sent Marcus on long journeys with letters to the assemblies he had founded and over which he still watched like a lion over its prey. This was probably why Cephas was no longer pleased to see the Christians in his own flock going to listen to Paul and his involved teachings.
Lucas told me that he had taken two whole years to journey around Galilee and Judaea, gathering information on the life of Jesus of Nazareth, his miracles and teachings from people who had heard him themselves. He had meticulous notes on it all in Aramaic and was seriously considering writing his own account of Jesus’ life in Greek to show that Paul knew it all just as well as Cephas. A wealthy Greek called Theophilus, whom Paul had converted to Christianity, had already promised to publish the book.
Inasfar as I could judge, they received handsome gifts from the Christian assemblies in Corinth and Asia, which Paul jealously guarded to keep them away from both the faithful Jews and other sects among the Christians. I saw that his time was filled with writing admonitory letters to them, since he did not have many followers in Rome.
I also had a feeling that he would have liked to remain in Rome after his release, but I knew only too well of the everlasting disturbances that occurred wherever he appeared. In gaining his release, which was sure to be granted, I should also be drawing the wrath of the Jews on my head, and the disunited Christians would also be at each other’s throats if he stayed in the city. So I made a cautious suggestion.
“There is not room for two cocks on the same dunghill,” I said. “For your own sake and for mine as well, it would be best if you left Rome as soon as you are released.”
Paul’s face clouded, but nevertheless he admitted that Christ had made him into an eternal wanderer who could never stay in the same place for long. Thus, to him, his imprisonment had been a testing time. He had been commantled to make everyone into disciples of Christ and was now thinking of going to the province of Baetica in Iberia, as he had earlier planned. There were several harbor towns there of Greek origin in which Greek was the main language. I urged him to travel as far as Britain if necessary.
But of course, despite my well-meaning request, Paul was unable to keep his mouth shut when he was eventually brought before Nero in the Praetorium. Nero was in a good mood and as soon as he saw Paul, he exclaimed, “Oh, the prisoner is a Jew, is he? Then I must release him. Otherwise Poppaea will be angry. She’s in her last month now and she respects the god of the Jews more than ever.”
Nero benignly allowed the water clock to be set up to measure the length of the speech for the defense and then became completely absorbed in the papers of the cases that were to follow. Paul considered himself fortunate to have this chance of clearing himself of all the charges and asked Nero to listen with patience, since the customs and religious disputes of the Jews were perhaps not familiar to him. He began from Moses and also told his own life history, describing how Jesus of Nazareth had appeared to him in the form of Christ after he had been persecuting the holy Jesus.
I slipped a report to Nero which Procurator Festus had attached to the case papers, in which he explained that he personally considered Paul a harmless fool whom too much learning had made weak in the head. King Herodes Agrippa, who understood the beliefs of the Jews best, had also suggested that Paul should be released. Nero nodded, pretending to be listening, although I do not think he understood a word of what was said.
“So I could not prevent myself from obeying the heavenly vision,” Paul said once again. “Oh, if only your eyes could be opened and you could be turned from the darkness to the light and from Satan’s kingdom to the kingdom of God. If you believed in Jesus of Nazareth then your sins would be forgiven and you would. have an inheritance among holy men.”
At that moment the water clock tinkled and Paul had to stop.
“My good man,” said Nero firmly, “I do not by any means wish you to include me in your will. I am not out to acquire the inheritance of others. Such things are but slander. You can tell the other Jews that too. You would be doing me a service-if you would take the trouble to pray to your god for my wife Poppaea Sabina. The poor woman seems to put great trust in the same god you have so convincingly just told me about.”
He ordered Paul’s shackles removed and said that they should be sent as a votive gift to the temple in Jerusalem as evidence of his good will toward the Jewish faith. I imagine the Jews were quite annoyed. For the costs. of the case, Paul himself as the appellant was responsible.
In a few days we cleared up a vast heap of unsetded lawsuits. Most of the verdicts were acquittals. The only cases left were those in which Tigellinus considered it financially advantageous that the defendant should die of old age before any verdict was pronounced. Two months later, I was relieved of my office as Praetor, my industry and incorruptibility were praised in public and I was no longer so abused behind my back as before.
Paul’s case was not one of great importance, but the trial became historically significant because of the murder of Pedanus Secundus, which caused a sensation all over Rome. Only two months later, he was brutally murdered with a dagger by one of his own slaves as he lay in his own bed. The real reason for the murder was never discovered, but I can honestly say that I do not believe my father-in-law was involved in any way.
Our old laws prescribed that if a slave murders his lord, all the slaves Under the same roof shall be put to death. This is a necessary law dictated by long experience and the demands of public security. But Pedanus had over five hundred slaves in his household and the people began to protest and obstruct their passage to the place of execution. The Senate had to be summoned to deal with the matter. The most astonishing thing, and also the clearest evidence of the decay of our customs, Was that several senators seriously wished to obstruct the law in this case. Several of Seneca’s friends said openly that in their view a slave was also a human being and that it would not be proper to punish the innocent alongside the guilty. Senator Pudens and my own father rose to their feet and opposed such cruelty. Even the slave was excused on the grounds that he had only avenged old injustices.
It was then said, with some justification, that in that case who could feel themselves safe in their own houses if Pedanus’ slaves were to be pardoned? Our forefathers had laid down the laws and had, with good reason, mistrusted even slaves born in the household and attached to their masters since childhood. Nowadays there were also slaves from wholly differing peoples with alien customs and alien gods.
Now, for the first time, it was openly intimated that in the Senate itself there were men who had secretly gone over to an alien religion and who were now trying to defend their fellow believers. At the vote, fortunately for Rome, the adherents to the law were victorious.
The crowds that had gathered about Pedanus’ house picked up stones and threatened arson. The Praetorians had to be called out to help the city police, and Nero made a stern proclamation. A double line of soldiers flanked the streets along which the five hundred were driven to the execution place.
Stones were thrown and insults shouted, but there was no real riot. A considerable number of Pedanus’ slaves seemed to be Christians, for other Christians mingled in the crowd, warning people against violence and explaining that their teaching did not allow evil to be met with evil.
One good thing about all this was that my father-in-law, Flavius Sa-binus, retrieved his office of Prefect. The Senate and the people were given something else to talk about; Poppaea’s pregnancy began to arouse a certain compassion among fainthearted people.
Nero wanted his child to be born in Antium, where he himself had been born. Perhaps he thought that such a happy event would cleanse the estate he had inherited from Agrippina of its sorrowful memories. Certainly he considered Rome in the heat of summer and with its many smells an unhealthy place for the delivery.
Before Poppaea went to Antium, I had the pleasure of meeting her again. Pregnancy had not spoiled her beauty, and her eyes had a gentle brilliance which gave her a mild and feminine expression.
“Is it true,” I said carefully, “that you’ve begun to worship the Jewish god? That’s what they say in Rome. They say you’ve made Nero favor the Jews at the expense of others.”
“You must admit,” replied Poppaea, “that the Jewish prophecy has come true. When things were at their most difficult for me, in order to secure my position I promised always to respect their god, who is so powerful that there is not even an image of him. And Moses too. I’d never even dare go to Antium for the delivery of our child if I couldn’t take a Jewish physician with me. I’m taking several wise old Jewish women, too, and of course a trained Greek and Roman physician as well, for safety’s sake.”
“Have you heard mention of Jesus of Nazareth, too?” I asked. “The king of the Jews?”
“I know there are several different kinds of holy men among the Jews,” said Poppaea. “They have strict laws, but a devout woman in my position doesn’t have to bother about the laws so much as long as I just acknowledge the horned Moses and don’t drink blood.”
I realized that her ideas about the Jewish faith were just as vague as those of most other Romans, who quite simply could not imagine a god without an image. A weight fell from my heart. If Poppaea had known that the Jews hated Paul like the plague, she would hardly have thanked Nero and me for releasing Paul to continue causing bitter dissension among the Jews.
So Poppaea went to Antium and I hoped her child would be born soon, for Nero was a trying companion during the period of waiting. When he sang, he had to be congratulated. When he drove his chariot, he had to be praised for his skill. He began meeting Acte again in secret and had temporary relations with noble ladies who were not very particular about the sanctity of marriage. Tigellinus introduced him to his favorite boys. When we discussed this, Nero pointed to the example of the Greeks and justified his actions.
“When the goblet was knocked from my hand,” he argued, “I became a holy man. It was an omen that I shall be proclaimed a god after my death. The gods are bisexual. I shouldn’t feel myself completely godlike if I could not love handsome boys for amusement. Anyhow, Poppaea prefers me to play about with boys, if I must, rather than with ambitious women. Then she feels she needn’t be jealous and always afraid I’ll go and make someone pregnant by mistake.”
I saw my son Jucundus only seldom. Barbus had moved from my house and settled at Tullia’s, as he considered himself the boy’s mentor. This was necessary, because Tullia spoiled Jucundus and let him do whatever he wanted. He became more and more of a stranger to me.
I was tolerated in my wife Sabina’s house only when she wanted money. Little Lausus was a stranger. He was surprisingly dark-skinned and curly-haired. I felt no desire to take him in my arms and play with him and Sabina reproached me and said I was an unnatural father.
I remarked that the boy seemed to have more than enough fathers to play with among the animal trainers. This was true. If I ever expressed a desire to see the boy, Epaphroditus at once appeared and came forward to show how much Lausus preferred him. Sabina turned pale with rage and demantled that at least in the presence of others I should not make such unsuitable jokes.
She had her own circle of friends among the noble ladies who took their children with them to see the animals and the bold tricks of the animal trainers. It was fashionable in noble households to keep gazelles and leopards, and I had a great deal of trouble with unscrupulous rogues who contravened my sole rights and imported these animals into the city to sell at lower prices. Wild British bloodhounds were also brought to Rome and I received good prices for their puppies.
In the end, Poppaea gave birth to a well-formed daughter, and Nero was just as delighted as if he had had a son. He smothered Poppaea with presents and behaved in every way like a young father dazed with happiness.
The whole of the Senate went to Antium to present their good wishes, as did everyone who thought himself of importance in Rome. The river boats and the ships from Ostia were packed. The wretched road from Aricia to Antium was so choked with vehicles and sedans that the traffic moved intolerably slowly. One of my freedmen made a fortune by setting up temporary accommodation and catering places along the roadside.
The infant was given the name of Claudia and also the name of honor, Augusta. At the wine-goblet ceremony some simple-minded person happened to suggest that Poppaea Sabina should be honored in the same way and no one dared oppose the suggestion, as Nero himself was present. Poppaea Sabina sent some sacred articles of gold as a thank-offering to the temple in Jerusalem and her Jewish physician received Roman citizenship.
For my part, I had been prepared well ahead. During the days of thanksgiving, we arranged such a brilliant display of animal fights in the wooden theater that in the eyes of the people, they for once outshone the races in the great circus, although I say it myself. The Vestal Virgins honored my displays with their presence and I heard people say that I had developed the training of wild animals to a fine art.
Sabina drove around the arena dressed as an Amazon in a gilded chariot drawn by four lions, receiving on my behalf the overwhelming applause of the spectators. With tremendous difficulty, I had managed to acquire some giant hairy apes in place of the ones that had died. I wanted to have them when they were quite small, and they were reared and trained by yellow-skinned dwarfs who in darkest Africa live with the giant apes.
These apes could use stones and cudgels when they fought against each other. The most teachable of them were dressed as gladiators, and some of the spectators thought they were men and not animals. There were quarrels about it in the stands, which ended in a brawl in which one citizen was killed and a dozen or so injured. So the whole performance was as successful as one could have wished for.
This time I at last received compensation for the money I had laid out and lost. Seneca no longer kept his miserly eye on the State treasury nnil Nero neither understood finance nor was entirely clear on the difference between the State treasury and the Emperor’s fiscus. So I charged them both and, with the help of my freedmen, put the money into apartments in Rome and land in Caere.
But Nero’s happiness as a father did not last long. It was a wet autumn and the Tiber rose alarmingly, its poisonous vapors spreading a throat infection all over the city which was not fatal for adults but from which infants died in great numbers.
Even Nero sickened of it, became so hoarse that he could hardly say a word and feared that he had lost his singing voice for ever. Sacrifices of atonement for his voice were made in all the temples, both by the State and by individuals. But hardly had he begun to get better when his daughter fell ill and died within a few days, in spite of the doctors’ efforts and intercessions by the Jews. Poppaea was dazed with lack of sleep and grief and furiously accused Nero for embracing and kissing his child all day and every day, in spite of his sore throat.
Nero was under the superstitious impression that the public and private sacrifices had not been sufficient to appease the gods and save his voice. The gods had also demantled his daughter. This strengthened his conviction that it was intended that he should become the greatest artist of his time, and this lessened his grief.
The shaken Senate immediately bestowed the rank of goddess on Claudia Augusta, with the accompanying cushion at her funeral. They also decided to build a temple in her honor and formed a special pontifex priesthood for the purpose. Nero was secretly convinced that it was in fact his voice which was to be worshiped in the new temple and that the sacrifices would make his voice even finer.
So the new priesthood had a special secret ritual, over and above the official sacrifices, which was not allowed to be revealed to outsiders. Nero’s voice did in fact become much stronger, just as it had after Agrippina’s death, and it now sounded both resonant and as sweet as honey so that audiences were deeply moved. I myself was not deeply moved when I heard him, but I am just repeating what more knowledgeable judges than I assured him.
Nero put on weight and let his cheeks and chin fill out when he was told that the strongest tenor voices needed plenty of flesh on the bones to withstand the strain of singing. Poppaea was only too pleased that he spent his time on singing exercises rather than on more dissolute activities.
After the death of his daughter, Nero concentrated all winter on training his voice, to the extent that matters of State became merely an unnecessary worry to him. He neglected the meetings of the Senate because he was afraid of catching cold on the icy floor of the Curia. When he arrived at a meeting, he came with his feet wrapped in wool and usually on foot, and he always rose humbly from his place when the Consul addressed him. After his first sneeze, he left hurriedly, leaving important matters to be settled in the Senate committees.
One day during the winter, shortly before the feast of Saturnalia, Claudia said that she must see me, for she had an important matter to discuss which was for my ears alone. When I had completed my daily business with my clients and freedmen, I allowed her to come into my room, fearing that once again she was going to start talking about repentance and Christian baptism.
But Claudia was wringing her hands.
“Oh, Minutus,” she wailed, “I am prey to contending feelings. I am flung hither and thither and feel like a piece of chewed string. I’ve done something which I’ve not dared tell you about. But look at me first. Do you think I have changed in any way?”
To be honest, she had at times been so repugnant to me because of her intolerable chatter and her Christian knowingness, that I had not even wanted to look at her. But warmed by her submissiveness, I now looked at her a little more closely and saw to my surprise that the sunburn from her time as a slave had vanished from her soft-skinned face. She was well dressed and her hair was set in the latest Greek fashion.
I clapped my hands together in surprise and cried with genuine flattery, “You look like the most noble of Roman ladies with your figure and fine posture. I suspect you’ve been bathing your face in ass’s milk in secret.”
Claudia flushed deeply.
“It’s not from vanity that I’ve looked after my appearance,” she said hurriedly, “but because you have entrusted me with your large household. Modesty and unpretentiousness are a woman’s best adornment, but your clients and the meat traders of the Basilica don’t wish to believe that. What I meant was, do you see any resemblance to Emperor Claudius in my face?”
“No, of course not,” I said at once, to calm her. “You needn’t worry about that. Old man Claudius’ looks were nothing to boast about. But you’ve grown into a beautiful woman, especially now you’ve had your eyebrows plucked.”
Claudia was obviously disappointed by my words.
“You’re wrong, I’m sure,” she said sullenly. “Aunt Paulina and I have secretly been to-see my younger half sister, Antonia, out of pity for her lonely existence. Claudius had her first husband murdered and Nero her second, so no one dares to be seen with her now she has returned from Massilia. Her sufferings have taught her to see things from another viewpoint now. She offered us mead and fruit tart and gave me a gold hairnet. As things are now, she would perhaps be prepared to acknowledge me as her legal sister. She and I are the only genuine Clau-dians left.”
I was appalled when I saw that because of her feminine ambitions she was still attached to her imaginary vanities. She looked at me with her strangely glowing eyes, sighing deeply so that her full bosom rose, and then she seized my hand in both hers so I backed away in alarm.
“What is it you really want, unhappy Claudia?” I asked.
“Minutus,” she said, “you must know yourself that your life cannot go on as hitherto. Your marriage to Sabina is no real marriage. You are stupid if you’ve not grasped that. All Rome laughs at it. In your youth you made a certain promise to me. Now you are a grown man, the age difference between us is no longer as great as it seemed then. In fact it is scarcely noticeable. Minutus, you must separate from Sabina for your own standing’s sake.”
I felt like a wild animal trapped in a corner of the cage and threatened with red-hot irons.
“You can’t be serious,” I protested. “The Christian superstition must have confused your head. I’ve been afraid of this for a long time.”
Claudia stared at me. “A Christian must eschew all surface life. But Jesus of Nazareth himself is supposed to have said that a man who looks at a woman with desire commits adultery with her in his heart. I heard that quite recently. This knowledge is like a festering sore in my heart, for I realize that it is also so for a woman. So my life is becoming intolerable for me when I see you every day and cannot do so without feeling desire in my heart. At night I twist and turn without rest in my bed and I bite my pillow with yearning.”
I could not help but be flattered by her words. I looked at her with quite new eyes.
“Why have you said nothing before?” I asked. “Out of sheer mercy I would have come and slept with you any night. But such a thought never occurred to me because of your own disagreeable attitude.”
Claudia shook her head violently.
“I don’t need your mercy,” she said. “I should be committing a sin if I went to your bed without the bonds of marriage. To suggest such a thing shows how you’ve hardened your heart and how little you value me.”
I could not in all decency remind her of how low she had sunk at the time when I had found her, and her ideas were so insane that I was struck dumb with alarm.
“Antonia,” she went on, “would swear the most sacred oath before the Vestals that I am the legitimate daughter of Claudius and of the same blood as she. She’s almost certain to be willing to do that, if only to annoy Nero. Then a marriage with me would not be entirely worthless to you. If we had a child, the Vestals would know of his noble descent. If the situation changes, a son of ours could rise to the highest office in Rome. Antonia is very sad that she was childless in both her marriages.”
“How can a dead tree put out new shoots?” I cried. “Remember what you’ve been through.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me as a woman,” said Claudia indignantly. “My own body tells me that each month. I’ve told you, I am cleansed of my past. You too could convince yourself of that if you only wished to.”
When I tried to flee from the room, she seized hold of me and I do not know how we came to touch each other as we struggled together, but old wounds irritate and I had not slept with a woman for a long time. Within a short time we were kissing, and once Claudia had me in her arms, she lost control of herself completely. Afterwards she did cry, but nevertheless held on to me hard.
“My lack of virtue shows that I am of the depraved Claudius’ blood,” she said, “but now you have once again caused me to sin, you must make amends. If you are a man, at least you’ll go straight to Sabina and speak to her about a divorce.”
“But I have a son with her,” I protested. “The Flavians would never forgive me. Sabina’s father is the City Prefect. My position would be untenable in every way.”
“I don’t want to defame Sabina,” said Claudia quietly, “but there are Christians among the employees at the menagerie and Sabina’s loose way of life there is a subject of general conversation.”
I had to laugh.
“Sabina is a cold and sexless woman,” I said contemptuously and confidently. “I should know best. No, I couldn’t find a single tenable reason for divorce, for she doesn’t mind in the slightest if I satisfy myself with other women. And more than anything else, I know that she would never part from the lions in the menagerie. She’s more fond of them than she is of me.”
“But nothing need prevent her staying on at the menagerie,” said Claudia. “She’s got her own house there, which you seldom go to nowadays. You can be friends, even if separated. Tell her that you know everything, but you want a divorce without a public scandal. The boy can keep your name, as you once legitimatized him in a weak moment and now can’t retract.”
“Are you trying to imply that Lausus is not my son?” I said. “I didn’t think you were so wicked. Where is your Christian good will?”
Claudia lost her temper completely.
“Every single person in Rome knows he’s not your son,” she shrieked. “Sabina has slept with animal trainers and slaves and probably with the apes too, and she’s involved other noble ladies in her depravity. Nero laughs at you on the sly, not to speak of your other nice friends.”
I picked up my toga from the floor, swept it around me and arranged the folds as carefully as I could with my hands trembling with rage.
“Just to show you how much your malicious talk is worth,” I said, “I’ll go and speak to Sabina. Then I’ll come back and have you beaten for being a bad housekeeper and a poisonous gossip. You can go to your Christians in the same slave rags you came here in.”
I rushed straight off to the menagerie with my toga flapping, as if pursued by furies, so that I neither saw the crowds in the street nor returned any greetings. I did not even have myself announced to my wife, but just burst straight into her room without taking any notice of the efforts of the slaves to stop me.
Sabina freed herself from the arms of Epaphroditus and rushed up, raging like a lion and her eyes flashing.
“What a way to behave, Minutus!” she cried. “Have you lost the last shreds of your reason? As you saw, I was just taking a mote out of Epaphroditus’ eye with my tongue. He’s half blinded and can’t begin training the lion we’ve just got from Numidia.”
“I saw with my own eyes,” I snapped back, “that it was more likely he was looking for a certain place in you. Fetch my sword and I’ll kill this shameless slave who has spat on my marriage bed.”
Hiding her nakedness, Sabina hurried over to shut the door and order the slaves to go away.
“You know we always wear as little as possible when we’re practicing,” she said. “Flapping clothes only irritate the lions. You saw wrong. You must beg Epaphroditus’ pardon at once for calling him a slave. He received his freedman’s stave a long time ago, and his Roman citizenship too, from the hand of the Emperor himself for his exploits in the amphitheater.”
Only half convinced, I went on calling shrilly for my sword.
“I here and now demand an explanation from you for the shameful rumors about you going around Rome,” I said. “Tomorrow I shall appeal to the Emperor for a divorce.”
Sabina stiffened and looked meaningly at Epaphroditus.
“Strangle him,” she said coldly. “We’ll roll him up in a rug and take him out to the lions’ cages. Others besides him have had accidents playing with the lions.”
Epaphroditus approached with his huge fists outstretched. He was very powerfully built and a whole head taller than I. In the middle of my righteous rage, I began seriously to fear for my life.
“Now, don’t misunderstand me, Sabina,” I said hastily. “Why should I want to insult the father of my son? Epaphroditus is a citizen and an equal. Let us settle this between us. I’m sure none of us wants a public scandal.”
“I’m a hard man,” said Epaphroditus appeasingly, “but I don’t really wish to kill your husband, Sabina. He has always overlooked our relationship and he probably has his own reasons for wanting a divorce. You yourself have many a time sighed for your freedom, so be sensible now, Sabina.”
But Sabina mocked him.
“Are your knees shaking at the sight of a lame old battle-scarred ruin, you great man, you?” she said scornfully. “Hercules save us, the best thing on you is greater than your courage. Don’t you see it’d be better simply to strangle him now and inherit what he’s got, than be disgraced for his sake?”
Epaphroditus avoided my eyes and carefully grasped my neck in such an iron grip that it was pointless to struggle. My voice choked and everything began to swim before my eyes, but I tried to indicate that I wished to bargain with them over whatever my life was worth. Epaphroditus slackened his grip.
“Naturally you can keep your property and your position in the menagerie,” I managed to croak, “if we separate like sensible people. My dear Sabina, forgive my hasty temper. Your son will bear my name and receive his share of the inheritance from me in time. Because of the love which once bound us together, I don’t wish to make you guilty of a crime, for in some way or other you would be found out. Let us have some wine brought in and take a conciliatory meal together, you and I and my foster brother-in-law, the strength of whose limbs I have the greatest respect for.”
Epaphroditus suddenly burst into tears and embraced me.
“No, no,” he cried. “I could not possibly strangle you. Let us be friends, the three of us. It will he a great honor for me if you really wish to eat at the same table with me.”
I too had tears of pain and relief in my eyes.
“It’s the least I can do,” I exclaimed. “I have already shared my wife with you. So your honor is also mine.”
When Sabina saw us embracing so intimately, she also came to her senses. We had the best the house could provide brought out, drank wine together and even called in the boy so that Epaphroditus could talk to him and hold him in his arms. Now and again a cold shiver went down my spine as I thought of what might have happened because of my own stupidity, but then the wine calmed me again.
When we had drunk a good deal, I was seized with melancholy.
“How could everything end like this?” I asked Sabina, “when we were so happy together at first and I was so blindly in love with you?”
“You’ve never understood my inner nature, Minutus,” said Sabina. “But I don’t reproach you for it and I regret my wicked words that time I insulted your manhood. If only you’d blacked my eye occasionally as I did to you the first time we met, if you’d whipped me sometimes, then everything might have been different. Do you remember how I asked you to take me by force on our wedding night? But there’s nothing in you of the ravisher’s wonderful overwhelming masculinity, that does as it likes however much one struggles or kicks or bites or threatens to scream.”
“I’ve always thought,” I said, dumbfounded, “that what a woman wants of love more than anything else is tenderness and security.”
Sabina shook her head pityingly.
“That delusion,” she replied, “only goes to show how childish you are when it comes to understanding women.”
When we had agreed on necessary financial measures and I had repeatedly praised Epaphroditus as a man of honor and the greatest artist in his line, I walked to Flavius Sabinus’ house, fortified by the wine, to inform him of the divorce. To be honest, I was almost more frightened of his anger than of Sabina.
“I have long noted that all was not well with your marriage,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “But I do hope you’ll not let the divorce influence the mutual respect and friendship which has developed between us two. I’d be in a dilemma, for instance, if you foreclosed the loan you have made me. We Flavians are not so wealthy as one might wish. My brother Vespasian is said to be supporting himself by dealing in mules. As Proconsul in Africa, he became poorer than ever. The peo-pie there seem to have bombarded him with turnips. I’m afraid he’ll be forced to leave the Senate if the Censor notices he is not fulfilling the conditions of wealth.”
Nero had unexpectedly gone to Naples after taking it into his head that Naples was the place for his first great public appearance as a singer, since the audience there is of Greek descent and thus more sympathetic to art than the Romans. Despite his artist’s self-confidence, Nero was panic-stricken before every performance and trembled and sweated to such an extent that he had to have his own paid applauders who could lead the audience in the first liberating rounds of applause.
I hurriedly traveled after him, which was necessary anyway to my office. The lovely theater in Naples was full to bursting and Nero’s splendid voice sent the audience into ecstasies. Several visitors from Alexandria were especially noticeable, for they expressed their delight in their own countrymen’s way by clapping rhythmically.
In the middle of a performance the theater was shaken by a sudden earth tremor. Panic began to spread in the audience, but Nero continued to sing as if nothing had happened. He received much praise for his self-control, for the audience took courage from his fearlessness. He himself told me afterwards that he had been so absorbed in his singing that he had not even noticed the tremor.
He was so delighted with his success that he appeared at the theater for several days running and finally the city council had to bribe his singing tutor to warn him against overstraining his incomparable voice, for the daily life of the city and trade ai\d sea-trade were being disrupted by his appearances. He rewarded the Alexandrians for their sound judgment by giving them presents as well as Roman citizenship, and he decided to go to Alexandria as soon as possible and appear before a public which was worthy of him.
When at a suitable moment I praised his brilliant artistic success, Nero asked me, “Do you think that if I weren’t the Emperor, I could support myself as an artist anywhere in the world?”
I assured him that as an artist he would certainly be both freer and in some ways wealthier than as Emperor, for as Emperor he had to fight for every Sta’te grant with his miserly Procurators. I said that it was my duty after my time as Praetor to pay for a theater performance for the people, but that in my opinion, there was no sufficiendy good singer in Rome. So with a feigned shyness, I made a suggestion.
“If you would appear at a performance,” I said, “which I would pay for, then my popularity would be assured. I’d pay you a million sesterces as a fee and naturally you can choose the play yourself.”
As far as I know, this was the highest fee ever offered any singer for a single performance. Even Nero was surprised.
“Do you really mean that you consider my voice worth a million sesterces,” he asked, “and that you’ll win the favor of the people with its help?”
I told him that if he would agree, it would be the greatest mark of favor I could think of. Nero frowned and pretended to meditate on his many duties.
“I must appear dressed as an actor,” he said finally, “with cothurni on my feet and a mask on my face. But to please you, I can of course have the mask made to look like myself. Let us test the artistic tastes of Rome. I won’t announce my name until after the performance. I’ll accept your invitation on those conditions. I think I’ll choose the part of Orestes, for I’ve long wanted to sing that. I should think the pent-up strength of my feelings would shake even the hardened audiences of Rome.”
His vanity as an artist drove him expressly to perform this role of a matricide, to allow his own feelings to run high. In some ways I understood him. By writing an amusing book, I had freed myself of my experiences as a prisoner which had driven me to the borders of insanity. For Nero, the murder of Agrippina had been a perturbing experience of which he was trying to free himself by singing. But I was afraid that I had exposed myself to considerable danger by inviting him to do this. It could happen that the audience would not recognize Nero and would not show their appreciation sufficiently.
Worse could happen too. A mask resembling Nero in the part of a matricide might result in the audience misunderstanding the intention. The performance might be taken as a demonstration against Nero and it could sweep the audience away with it. Then I would be lost. Other people might begin to believe the rumors about Nero, and then the result would be a riot with many people killed.
So there was nothing else to do but secretly to spread it about that Nero himself was thinking of appearing as Orestes in my theater performance. Many of the more old-fashioned members of the Senate and the Noble Order of Knights refused to believe that an Emperor would degrade himself to the level of a professional jester and thus knowingly make a fool of himself. The choice of program also made them look on the rumor as an ill-considered joke.
Fortunately Tigellinus and I had mutual advantages to be gained in this matter. Tigellinus ordered a cohort of Praetorians to keep order in the theater and applaud at certain times in the performance, carefully following Nero’s own professional applauders’ example. Several young knights who understood music and singing and would not make the mistake of applauding in the wrong places were appointed leaders of the groups. All the applauders had to practice humming with delight, clapping with cupped hands so that it echoed, making loud claps and sighing wistfully in appropriate places.
Rumors of a political demonstration brought a huge audience who otherwise would hardly have bothered to honor my office of Praetor with their presence. The crowd was so immense that several people were trampled underfoot at the entrances, and some of the older senators’ powerful slaves had to fight their way through to carry their masters to the Senate’s seats of honor. It was just like one of the best days at the races.
Nero himself was so nervous and tense that he was violendy sick before the performance and kept dosing his throat with drinks recommended by his tutor to strengthen his vocal cords. But I must admit he gave a brilliant performance once he was onstage. His powerful voice rang through the theater into a good twenty thousand pairs of ears. He was so engrossed in his cruel role that some of the more sensitive women fainted from emotion in the crush.
The humming, the sighs and clapping came in the right places. The usual audience joined willingly in the applause. But when Nero rushed onto the stage at the end with bloodstained hands, the sounds of loud catcalls, crowing and uproar came from the seats of senators and knights and not even the loudest applause could drown it. I thought my last moment had come when, with shaking knees, I staggered backstage to accompany the unmasked Nero on to inform the people that it had been the Emperor himself who had appeared before them. But to my great astonishment, Nero was weeping with joy as he stood there, drenched with sweat and his face distorted with fatigue.
“Did you notice how I got the crowd with me?” he said. “They catcalled and crowed at Orestes to bring the penalty for matricide down on his head. I don’t think such complete entering into the spirit by an audience has ever happened before.”
Wiping the sweat away and smiling triumphantly, Nero stepped forward to receive the applause, which swelled to thunderous proportions when I announced that it had been the Emperor in person performing in the play. The crowd shouted as one man that he should sing again.
I had the honor of taking Nero’s cittern to him. He sang willingly and accompanied himself to show his skill on the cittern until it grew so dark that one could no longer discern his face. Not until then did he reluctantly finish, but he had it announced that he would appear before the people in future, should they so wish it.
When I handed him the money order for one million sesterces, I told him I had arranged for a thank-offering to be made to his own genius, to his dead daughter and also, for safety’s sake, to Apollo.
“Though I think you’ve already surpassed Apollo and no longer need his support,” I added.
While he was still overflowing with joy, I made a passing request that he should quietly dissolve my marriage, on the grounds of irreconcilable incompatibility between Sabina and myself, who both wished for a divorce and had our parents’ approval of it.
Nero said with a laugh that he had long since realized that it was only from sheer depravity that I had for so long continued my strange marriage. He asked inquisitively if it were true that Sabina had sexual intercourse with the giant African apes, as it was said in the city, intimating that he himself would have no objection to watching such a performance in secret. I asked him to consult Sabina directly on the matter, since she and I were so hostile that we did not even wish to speak to one another. Nero asked that, divorce notwithstanding, I should allow Sabina to continue to perform in the amphitheater for the entertainment of the people. I received the divorce papers the following morning and did not even have to pay the usual fee for them.
My reputation became one of a bold and unscrupulous man, as Nero’s performance as Orestes aroused surprise and endless discussion. At this time, Nero’s enemies began to invent ugly stories about him founded on the same basis he himself had used when he had announced Octavia’s adultery: “The greater the lie, the more easily it will be believed,” he had said.
This was a truth which turned back on himself, for the more shameless the invention about Nero, the more willing the people were to believe it. True accounts of his many good deeds aroused little interest.
Not that Rome’s rulers had not lied to the people before. The god Julius was forced to establish a daily written proclamation to counteract his lack of esteem, not to mention the god Augustus whose handsome burial inscription fails to mention innumerable crimes.
By staking my life to acquire a divorce, I nevertheless landed myself in a dilemma. The divorce offered relief in that I was free of Sabina’s domination. But naturally I could not even consider marrying Claudia. In my own opinion, she exaggerated absurdly the significance of the bagatelle that we had happened to sleep together by chance attraction in the days of our youth.
I told her straight out that I did not consider that a man had to marry every woman who of her own free will fell into his arms. In that case, no sane relationship between human beings would be possible. In my opinion, what had happened was neither sinful nor degrading to her.
Not even Christ himself during his life on earth had wished to judge an adulteress, for he said that those who accused her were as guilty as she was. I had heard this said of him. But Claudia was angry and said that she knew the stories about Christ better than I did, having heard them from Cephas’ own mouth. She had fallen once and sinned with me, so she was sinful and felt even more sinful every time she saw me.
So I tried to avoid her as best I could, so that she would not be forced to see me too much. I devoted my time to new business deals to further my own position and calm my fears. One of my freedmen made me realize that the really great fortunes lay in the grain trade and the importation of cooking oil. Compared with these fundamental needs, silk from China, spices from India and other luxury goods for the rich nobility are mere trivialities. Thanks to my dealings in wild animals, I already had good trade connections with Africa and Iberia. Through my friendship with Fenius Rufus, I received a share in the grain trade, and my freedman himself traveled to Iberia to set up a buying office for olive oil.
In connection with these matters, I often visited Ostia and I saw that a whole new and beautifully built town had grown up there. I had long been irritated by Claudia’s accusations that I made criminal profits out of my tenements in Subura and on the circus side of Aventine. She considered that the tenants there lived in inhumanly crowded, dirty and unhealthy conditions. I realized that the poor Christians had been complaining to her to have the rents lowered.
If I had lowered the rents, the rush to my properties would have been even greater and all the other landlords would have angrily accused me of unfair undercutting. I could also see that the buildings were in wretched condition and to repair them would have meant great expenditure at a time when I needed all my ready money and had to apply for loans to finance my grain and oil enterprises. So I made a swift decision, sold a great many blocks of tenements all at once and instead bought several cheap empty sites on the outskirts of Ostia.
But Claudia reproached me bitterly and said that I had put the tenants in an even worse position than before. Their new landlords made no repairs but simply raised the rents to retrieve the huge sums they had paid me for the buildings. I told Claudia that she had not the slightest grasp of finance, but just wasted my money on charity which did not bring in anything, not even popularity. The Christians consider that it is natural to help the poor and they themselves thank only Christ for the help they receive.
Claudia on her part reproached me for wasting enormous sums of money on godless theater performances. She did not even differentiate between drama and animal displays in the amphitheater and she would not even listen to me when I tried to explain that it was my duty because of my rank of Praetor and my father’s position as senator. The favor of the public was necessary for a man in my position. The Christians are mostly slaves and rabble without citizenship.
I could not silence Claudia until I told her she was obviously not a genuine Claudian. Her father had been so passionately fond of displays in the amphitheater that he would not even go and take a meal while the wild animals tore the condemned to pieces, although respectable people usually went out for a meal at that time and left the amphitheater for a while. Nero, who was more humane, had early in his reign forbidden the throwing of the condemned to the animals and no longer allowed the professional gladiators to fight to the last drop of blood.
I admit that I occasionally used Claudia’s womanly weakness to silence her eternal talk. I closed her mouth with kisses and caressed her until she could no longer resist the temptation and laughingly threw herself into my arms. But afterwards she was more melancholy than ever and even threatened me with the anger of her half-sister Antonia if I did not expiate my sins by marrying her. As if Antonia’s anger had any political significance any longer.
When we were together in this way, I gave no thought to taking precautions. I knew about Claudia’s experiences in Misenium even if I did not wish to think about them, as I had been in some way responsible. But if I thought about it at all, it was in terms of the proverb which says that no grass grows on public ways.
So my surprise and horror were all the greater when on my return from Ostia one day, Claudia took me secretively to one side and with her eyes shining with pride, whispered in my ear that she was pregnant by me. I did not believe her and said she was a victim of her imagination or of some woman’s sickness. I hastily summoned a Greek physician who had studied in Alexandria, but did not even believe him when he assured me that Claudia had not been wrong. On the contrary, he said, her urine had swiftly caused a grain of oats to germinate, a sure sign of pregnancy.
When I returned home to my house on Aventine one evening, in a reasonable mood and quite unsuspecting, I found in my own reception rooms both Claudius’ daughter, Antonia, and old Paulina, whom I had not seen since my departure to Achaia. She had grown very thin from so much fasting and was still dressed in black as before. Her old eyes shone with a supernatural brilliance.
Antonia presumably felt uncomfortable meeting me, but she retained her haughty poise and held her head high. While I was wondering whether I should offer belated condolences for her husband’s sudden departure, Aunt Paulina suddenly spoke.
“You have neglected your duty to Claudia,” she said sternly. “In the name of Christ, I demand that you immediately undergo legal marriage with her. If you have no fear of God, then you shall fear the Plautians. The reputation of the family is at stake.”
“I cannot admire your behavior toward my half sister,” added Antonia. “Neither would I wish for such an undesirable husband for her. But she is pregnant because you have seduced her, and so it can’t be helped.”
“Do you believe that insane story of her descent too?” I said in surprise. “You, who are a sensible woman. Claudius never legitimatized her.”
“That was for political reasons,” said Antonia. “My father Claudius separated from Plautia Urgulanilla in order to marry my mother, Aelia, who was Sejanus’ adoptive daughter, as you know. Claudia was born five months after the divorce and out of consideration for my mother, Sejanus considered it unsuitable to give her the legal position of daughter of the Emperor. You know how influential Sejanus was then. It was to win his favor that Claudius married my mother. I remember that she many a time deplored my father’s behavior. But there was much talk about Claudia’s mother. I was much too proud even to acknowledge Claudia as my half sister in secret. But there is little left of my pride and so I feel the need to make good the injustice I did Claudia.”
“Have you too become a Christian?” I asked sarcastically.
My question made Antonia blush.
“I am not yet initiated,” she said, “but I allow the slaves in my house to worship Christ. I understand you do the same. And I do not wish the ancient line of Claudians to die out with me. I am prepared to adopt your child if necessary, if you are not content with less. It might give Nero and Poppaea something to think about.”
I realized she was doing this more from hatred for Nero than from love of Claudia.
“On her deathbed,” put in Aunt Paulina now, “Urgulanilla swore the most solemn oath that Claudia was truly Claudius’ daughter. I was not a great friend of Urgulanilla, because of her depraved life in later years. But I do not believe any woman on her deathbed could perjure herself on such a serious matter. The difficulty from the very beginning has been that you who are of the Noble Order of Knights did not consider that you could marry a bastard. For the same reasons and for fear of Claudius, my husband refused to adopt Claudia. But in fact Claudia is legally both a Roman citizen and was born in wedlock. That would be incontestable if she hadn’t been the Emperor’s daughter.”
Claudia now burst out weeping.
“I don’t think my poor father even really hated me,” she cried. “In his weakness he was probably so influenced by the luckless Messalina, and then by the wicked Agrippina, that he dared not acknowledge me as his daughter even if he had wished to. In my heart, I have forgiven him that.”
When I in all seriousness considered the legal complications of the matter, I remembered how ingeniously I had made Jucundus into a Roman citizen by birth.
“Claudia was forced to live hidden in a country town for many years,” I said thoughtfully. “It would not be utterly impossible to have her name put on the roll of citizens in some distant town as daughter of a deceased father A and mother B, if one chose a town in which, for instance, a fire had destroyed the archives. There are millions of citizens in many different countries, and we all know that several unscrupulous immigrant Romans maintain they possess citizenship without being charged, because these things are nowadays difficult to prove otherwise. In that way, I should be able to marry Claudia.”
“Don’t try any alphabets on me,” said Claudia angrily. “My father was Tiberius Claudius Drusus and my mother was Plautia Urgulanilla. But thank you for agreeing to marry me. I accept your word as a proposal. And I have two respected witnesses to your suggestion.”
Paulina and Antonia hurried smilingly to congratulate me. I realized I had fallen into a trap, although I had really only been speaking theoretically about a legal problem. After a brief struggle, we agreed to draw up a document referring to Claudia’s descent, and this Antonia and Paulina would deposit as an unconditionally secret paper in the archives of the Vestals.
We decided that the wedding would take place quietly without sacrifices or festivities, and in the citizens’ roll Claudia’s name would go down as Plautia Claudia Urgulanilla. It was left to me to see to it that the registration authorities did not ask any unnecessary questions. Claudia’s position would in itself not change, for she had already managed my household for a long time.
I agreed to everything with a heavy heart, for I could hardly do otherwise. I was afraid I had now involved myself in a political intrigue against Nero. Aunt Paulina almost certainly had no such idea, but with Antonia it was different.
“I am several years younger than Claudia,” she said finally, “but Nero will not permit me to marry again. No man sufficiently noble would dare to marry me if he remembers what happened to Cornelius Sulla. Perhaps everything would have been different if Sulla had not been such a fumbling idiot. But he could not help himself. So I am glad on Claudia’s behalf that she as an Emperor’s legal daughter may marry, even if in secret. Your cunning, my dear Minutus, your unscrupulous-ness and your wealth will perhaps compensate for the other qualities I should have wished to see in Claudia’s husband. Remember that you are binding yourelf to both the Claudians and the Plautians by this marriage.”
Paulina and Claudia asked us to pray together with them in the name of Christ for the blessing on our marriage. Antonia smiled contemptuously.
“A name is a name,” she said, “if you believe in the power of it. I myself support him because I know how bitterly the Jews hate him. The Jews are in favor at the court at this moment to an intolerable degree. Poppaea helps them into office and Nero showers insane gifts onto a Jewish pantomimic, although he insolently refuses to appear on Saturdays.”
The proud Antonia in her bitterness obviously had no thought for anything but opposing Nero by every means. Even if she had no influence, she could be a dangerous woman. I thanked my stars that she had had the sense to come to my house after dark in a sedan with drawn curtains.
But I was so oppressed that I humbled myself to the extent of taking part in Christian prayers and praying for forgiveness of my sins. I thought that I needed all the heavenly help I could get in this matter. Cephas and Paul and several other holy Christian men had been able to perform miracles on the strength of the name of Jesus of Nazareth. I went so far that together with Claudia, after our guests had gone, I drank from my father’s goblet before we went to bed, for once reconciled with each other.
After that we slept together as if we were already married, and no one in the household took much notice. I cannot deny that my vanity was flattered by sharing my bed with the daughter of an Emperor. So I was attentive to Claudia and submitted myself to her caprices during her pregnancy. The result was that the Christians got a firm foothold in my house. Their cries of praise echoed from morning to night so loudly that our nearest neighbors were disturbed.
Book IX
Tigellinus
No rain had fallen for a long time, apart from thunderstorms, and Rome was tormented by the heat, the dirt, the smell and the dust. In my garden on Aventine, the leaves on the trees were covered with dust and the grass rustled dryly. Aunt Laelia was the only person to enjoy the heat. She, who because of her age was usually cold, had herself carried out into the garden where she sniffed with an experienced air.
“Real fire weather in Rome,” she said.
It was as if for a moment her head had cleared. She began to relate for the hundredth time the story of the fire which had ravaged the slopes of Aventine many years ago. My father’s banker had bought the burned-out sites cheaply and had had the apartments built on them which provided me with the whole of the income required for the Order of Knights, until I sold them the previous winter.
When I sniffed the air I could smell the smoke, but it did not worry me, for I knew that the fire brigades in all sections of the city would be on the alert in this heat, and that it was forbidden to light a fire unnecessarily. It was not even windy. The air was still and suffocating from the early hours of the morning onward.
From somewhere far away came the sound of horn signals and a curious murmuring, but not until I was on my way into the city did I see that the side of the great race-course facing Palatine was in flames. Huge clouds of smoke were billowing up from the wax, incense and cloth booths. These highly inflammable small buildings had no firewalls at all, so the fire had caught on and spread like lightning.
People were seething like ants all around the fire. I thought I saw fire brigades from at least three sections of the city clearing wide firebreaks to stop the raging sea of flames from spreading. I had never seen such a large fire before. It was an oppressive sight, but nevertheless did not worry me overmuch. In fact, I thought that the fire brigade from our part of the city should not have gone down there, but should have stayed and guarded the slopes of Aventine.
I sent one of my men to warn Claudia and the household, and on the way to the menagerie I looked in at the City Prefecture to ask how the fire had started. A messenger had been sent on horseback to fetch my former father-in-law back from his country estate, but his next-in-command seemed to have things well in hand.
He blamed the Jewish small traders and the circus people in the shops at the Capua gate for carelessness, but he was confident that their highly inflammable goods would burn up quite quickly. In fact he considered keeping order a much more difficult task than confining the fire, for slaves and other rabble had at once hurried to the spot to make the most of the opportunity by plundering the circus shops.
After inspecting the menagerie, which was suffering badly from the heat, and consulting the veterinary physician on the preservation of our perishable meat supply, I ordered extra rations of water given to all the animals and saw that water was poured over their cages. I spoke to Sabina in all friendliness, for since our divorce we had been on much better terms than before.
Sabina asked me to go at once to the superintendent of the waterworks to ensure that the water supplies to the menagerie were not cut because of the fire. I assured her that there was no need to worry, for all the heads of noble households would probably be there already on the same errand, to ensure the watering of their gardens in the hot weather.
At the waterworks they told me that the blocking of the aqueducts could certainly not be revoked without a decision from the Senate or an Imperial command. The usual water-rationing would thus remain unchanged, for the Senate could not be summoned together for several days since it does not meet during-the summer unless the State is threatened. Nero was in Antium at the time.
Feeling in a better mood, I went up to the Palatine hill, walked past the empty palace buildings and joined the crowd of spectators gathered on the slope facing the race-course. They were mostly slaves, servants and gardeners from the Imperial household. No one seemed worried, although the whole of the hollow below us was one great burning, billowing furnace.
The fire was so violent that it formed whirlpools in the air, and the hot blast constandy blew across our faces. Some of the slaves indifferently stamped out smoldering patches of grass and someone swore when a spark burned a hole in his tunic. But the watering apparatus was working in the gardens and no one looked very concerned. There was nothing to be seen in the watchers’ expressions except excitement over the spectacular scene before them. When I tried to look across to Aventine through the swirling smoke, I noticed that the fire had spread to the slope and was slowly but surely beginning to eat its way up toward my own part of the city. I suddenly made haste. I told my following to go home by themselves and then borrowed a horse from Nero’s stables, as I saw a messenger galloping along the via Sacra over by the forum.
There the most cautious were already bolting and barring their shops and only in the large market halls were housewives still making their purchases as usual. I was able to make my way back to my own house by a roundabout route along the banks of the Tiber, and on the way I saw many men slinking along in the smoke, carrying either plunder or things they had rescued from near the race-course.
The narrow streets were packed with anxious crowds of people. Mothers in tears were calling their children, while heads of households stood anxiously outside their doors and uncertainly asked each other what they should do. No one is particularly willing to leave his house empty during a big fire, for the city police would then find it impossible to keep order.
Many people were already saying that the Emperor should return from Antium. I too began to feel that emergency measures were now necessary. I could only thank my good fortune that my menagerie lay on the outskirts of the city on the other side of Mars field.
When I arrived home, I immediately ordered sedans and bearers out and told Claudia and Aunt Laelia to go to the fourteenth district of the city on the other side of the Tiber with the household staff. As many of our most valuable possessions as could be carried would have to be taken too, for there were no vehicles available during the day.
Only the doorkeeper and the strongest of the slaves were ordered to remain behind to protect the house from looters. I left them weapons because of the unusual circumstances. But it was important that they all hurry, for I guessed that others would soon follow suit and the narrow streets of Aventine would be choked with refugees.
Claudia protested violendy and said she first had to send a warning to her Christian friends and help the weak and old among them to flee. They were redeemed by Christ and so worth more than our gold and silver vessels, she said. I pointed at Aunt Laelia.
“You’ve an old person there to protect,” I cried. “And you might at least give a thought to our unborn child.”
At that moment Aquila the Jew and Prisca came panting into our courtyard, sweat pouring from them as they carried their bundles of goat-hair cloth. They begged me to allow them to leave their possessions in the security of my house, for the fire was already approaching their weaving-sheds. Their shortsighted foolishness angered me, for Claudia, trusting them, said there was almost certainly no danger to us yet. Aquila and Prisca could not go over to the Jewish part of the city on the other side of the Tiber, for the Jews knew them by sight and hated them like the plague.
During all this talk and women’s chatter, much valuable time had been lost. Finally I was forced to slap Aunt Laelia and forcibly push Claudia into a sedan. So eventually they all set off and just in time, for then some Christians with smoke-blackened faces and burns on their arms came rushing in to ask after Aquila.
With their arms raised and their eyes staring, they cried that with their own ears they had heard the earth and the sky rend asunder and knew that Christ in accordance with his promise was about to come down to Rome. So all Christians should throw down their burdens and assemble on the hills of the city to receive their Lord and his new kingdom. The day of judgment had come.
But Prisca was an experienced, sensible and restrained woman and she would not believe such news. In fact she cried out to the newcomers to be silent, for she herself had had no such vision and anyhow, the only clouds in sight in the sky were clouds of smoke.
I also assured them that although Rome appeared to be threatened by a great misfortune, a fire in two or three sections of the city did not mean the ruin of the whole city. Those who were frightened were mosdy poor and were used to believing-people of higher standing. The narrow red band on my clothes convinced them that I knew more about the situation than they did.
I thought that the time had now come to call out the Praetorians and declare a state of emergency. I was not knowledgeable in that quarter, but common sense told me that it would be necessary to clear as wide a fire-break as possible across the whole of Aventine, without sparing the houses, and then light counter-fires to dispose of the buildings which were doomed anyhow. It must be considered as only human nature that I calculated my own house in the area which could be saved.
I rode off to consult the triumvirate in my part of the city and said that I would take the responsibility for any measures taken, but in their anxiety and obstinacy they shouted back that I should mind my own business, for there was no real emergency yet.
I rode on to the forum, from where one could see only the clouds of smoke above the rooftops and I was ashamed of my exaggerated anxiety, for everyone seemed to be behaving much as usual. I was calmed by assurances that the Sibylline books had been taken out and the college of High Priests was hastening to find out to which god one should first make sacrifices in order to stop the fire spreading.
A jet-black garlanded bull was led into the Volcanus temple. Several old men said that, to judge from previous experiences, it would be better to make offerings to Proserpina as well. They said confidently that the guardian spirits and ancient household gods of Rome would not allow the fire to spread too far, once infallible evidence had been found in the Sibylline books on how and why the gods had been angered.
I think the fire could have been limited if definite and ruthless measures had been taken that first day. But there was no one who dared take the responsibility, although Tigellinus’ second-in-command did in fact on his own responsibility send two cohorts of Praetorians to clear the most threatened streets and to keep order.
Prefect Flavius Sabinus arrived that evening and at once ordered all the fire brigades to protect Palatine, where crackling flames were already dancing in the tops of the pine trees in the garden. He demantled battering-rams and siege-machinery, but they were not put to use until the next day, when Tigellinus returned from Antium and with the Emperor’s authority firmly took command. Nero himself did not want to interrupt his holiday because of the fire and did not consider his presence in the city necessary, although the frightened crowds were calling for him.
When Tigellinus saw that it was going to be impossible to save the buildings on Palatine, he considered it time for Nero to return and calm the people. Nero was so anxious about his Greek works of art that he rode all the way from Antium without a pause. Senators and important knights also came in great numbers from their country places. But Tigellinus’ authority could not bring them to their senses and every one of them thought only of his own house and valuables. Against all the regulations, they brought with them ox-teams and carts, so that the streets became more choked than ever.
Nero set up his headquarters in the Maecenas gardens on the Esquiline hill, and he showed inspired resolution in the moment of danger. Flavius Sabinus could do little but weep from then on. As I was piloting refugees, I myself had once been surrounded by the fire and had received several burns.
From the Maecenas tower, Nero could see the terrible extent of the fire for himself, and he marked on a map the threatened areas which according to Tigellinus’ advice had to be evacuated at once and burned as soon as the fire-breaks were ready. The measures were now more coordinated and the patricians were driven out of their houses, battering-rams began to pound the dangerous cornshops to pieces, and neither temples nor fine buildings were spared where the fire-breaks had to run.
Nero thought it more important to save human lives than treasures, and he sent out hundreds of heralds to pilot the thousands of refugees to those areas which it was hoped would be spared. Those who tried to remain in their condemned houses were hunted out by armed men, and the transporting of furniture and other bulky articles was forbidden in the narrow alleys.
Nero himself, smoke-stained and soot-flecked, hurried together with his life guard from place to place, calming and giving instructions to the anxious people. He might take a weeping child into his arms and hand him to his mother, as he told people to seek safety in his own gardens on the other side of the river. All public buildings by Mars field were thrown open as quarters for the refugees.
But the senators who tried to save at least their family masks and household gods could not understand why soldiers chased them out of their own houses with the flats of their swords and then set fire to the building with torches.
Unfortunately this huge fire gave rise to a violent wind which flung flames and sparks right over the cleared protective area, the width of a whole stadium. The firemen, exhausted after several days’ exertions, could not stop the fire from spreading and many of them collapsed from exhaustion at their posts in the duty-chain and fell asleep, to be consumed by the flames.
Another and even wider fire-break was cleared to protect Subura, but Tigellinus was no more than human and was tempted to spare the ancient trees in his own garden, so the fire, which on the sixth day had almost died down, flared up again in them and spread to Subura, where it rushed through the tall, partly timbered buildings with such speed that the people in the upper stories did not even have time to get down to the street. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, were burned alive.
This was when the rumor began that Nero had had the city set on fire deliberately. The rumor was so insane that there were at once people who believed it. There were, after all, innumerable witnesses who had themselves seen soldiers with torches setting buildings on fire. The general confusion due to lack of sleep and the exertions of the people was so great that some people also believed the rumor the Christians had spread about the day of judgment.
Of course, no one dared to tell Nero about this allegation. Excellent actor that he was, he retained his calm and while the fire was still raging, he summoned all the best architects in Rome to plan the rebuilding of the city. He also saw to it that food supplies were brought in to the needy in Rome. But on his daily round of inspection of the extent of the fire, at which he made encouraging promises to those who had lost everything, there were more and more threatening cries, people threw stones at the Praetorians and some distracted people blamed Nero for the destruction of the city.
Nero was deeply offended, but kept a good face.
“The poor people must have lost their senses,” he said with compassion.
He turned back to the gardens of Maecenas and finally gave the order for the aqueducts to be opened, although this would mean a drought in the remaining parts of the city. I hurriedly rode to the menagerie to tell them to fill all the water-tanks in time. At the same time I ordered that all the animals should be killed if the fire spread as far as the wooden amphitheater. Such an event seemed impossible just then, but with my eyes smarting and my burns stinging, I was prepared to reckon on the total destruction of the city. I could not endure the thought of the animals getting free and roaming among the homeless and fleeing people.
That evening I was awakened from the deepest sleep I had had for a long time by a messenger summoning me to Nero. As soon as I had gone, Sabina issued a counterorder to the effect that anyone who tried to harm the animals would be killed on the spot.
As I walked to the gardens through the city illuminated by the flames, a wet mantle wrapped around my head for protection, a feeling that the end of the world had come predominated in my tired mind. I thought of the terrible prophecies of the Christians and also of the undent philosophers of Greece who had maintained that all things had once sprung from fire and would perish by fire,
I met some shouting babbling drunks who, for want of water, had slaked their thirst in an abandoned wine shop and were dragging women along with them. The Jews, packed in tight crowds, were singing hymns to their god. At one street corner I bumped into a confused man who, his beard reeking, embraced me, made the secret signs of the Christians and demantled that I should do penance and repent, for the day of judgment had come.
At the Maecenas tower, Nero was waiting impatiently for his friends. To my surprise, he was dressed in the long yellow cloak of a singer and had a wreath on his head. Tigellinus was standing respectfully beside him, holding Nero’s cittern.
Nero needed an audience and had sent messages to all the highly placed people he knew were in Rome. He had also ordered a thousand Praetorians to come and they were eating and drinking, seated on the grass under the well-watered trees in the gardens. Below us, the burning parts of the city glowed like crimson islands in the darkness, and the great swirls of smoke and fire seemed to reach right up into the sky.
Nero could wait no longer.
“In front of us lies a sight such as no mortal man has seen since the destruction of Troy,” he said in ringing tones. “Apollo himself has come down to me in a dream. When I awoke from this dream, stanzas came welling out from my heart as if in divine madness. I shall sing to you a verse I have composed on the burning of Troy. I think these stanzas will reverberate through the years to come and will make Nero immortal as a poet.”
A herald repeated his words as Nero climbed up the tower. There was not room for many people but naturally we did our best to get as near to him as possible. Nero began to sing, accompanying himself. His powerful voice rang out high above the sound of the fire and reached his hearers in the surrounding gardens. He sang as if bewitched and his poetry secretary supplied him with stanza after stanza which had been dictated during the day. But during the song, Nero composed new ones and another scribe was kept fully occupied writing more and more stanzas.
I had been to the theater to hear the classical drama often enough to know that he was quoting freely and had changed well-known verses either unconsciously in the moment of inspiration or using the license an artist is entitled to in such things. He sang for several hours on end. The centurions were hard put to keep the exhausted Praetorians awake with their batons.
But the experts kept saying that they had never heard such brilliant singing against such a splendid background. They applauded loudly in the intervals and said that what they had just experienced would be something to tell their children and grandchildren in times to come.
In the back of my mind, I wondered if Nero could possibly have become mentally deranged to choose to perform on a night like this. But I comforted myself with the thought that he had probably been deeply hurt by the accusations made by the people and so had transferred his great burden to artistic inspiration to relieve his feelings.
He stopped when the smoke forced him to and he began to cough and blow his nose. Then we took the chance to call out as one man, begging him to preserve his divine voice. But afterwards he was still scarlet in the face and radiant with sweat and triumph, promising to continue the following evening. Here and there on the edges of the fire, great clouds of steam rose into the sky as the aqueducts were opened and the water poured out into the smoking ruins of the city.
Tullia’s house on Viminalis lay quite near at hand, so I decided to go there and get a little sleep during the hours of the morning. I had not been worried about my father hitherto, for their house was safe for the time being. I did not even know whether he had come in from the country or not, but I could not see him among the other senators in Nero’s audience.
I found him alone, guarding his almost abandoned house, his eyes inflamed by the smoke. He told me that Tullia, with the help of a thousand slaves, had on the first day of the fire moved all the articles of value from the house out to a country property.
Jucundus, who had had his boy’s hair cut in the spring and had a narrow red border on his tunic, had run off to look at the fire with his friends from the Palatine school. Both his feet had been badly burned when a stream of molten metal had suddenly poured down a slope from one of the burning temples. He had been carried home and Tullia had taken him with her into the country. My father thought he would be a cripple for life.
“Then your son at least won’t have to do military service,” he added, stammering a little, “and spill his blood in the deserts of the East somewhere beyond the Euphrates.”
I was surprised to see that my father had been drinking too much wine, but I realized that he was very shaken by Jucundus’ accident. He saw me looking at him.
“It doesn’t matter that I am drinking wine again for once,” he said angrily. “I think the day of my death is approaching. I am not grieving over Jucundus. His feet were much too swift and had already taken him along dangerous paths. It is better to find the kingdom of God as a cripple than to let your heart be destroyed. I myself have been a spiritual cripple ever since your mother’s death, Minutus.”
My father was already well over sixty and he liked to return to the past in his memories. One thinks about death much more at his age than mine, so I did not take much notice at the time.
“What were you muttering about the deserts of the East and the Euphrates?” I asked him.
My father took a large gulp of the dark wine in his gold goblet and then turned to me.
“Among Jucundus’ school friends,” he said, “are the sons of kings from the East. Their parents, who are friendly to Rome, consider the crushing of Parthia absolutely vital to the East. These youngsters are more Roman than the Romans themselves, and Jucundus will soon be the same. In the Senate’s Eastern committee the question has been brought up many times. As soon as Corbulo has achieved peace in Armenia, Rome will have support there and Parthia will be caught between the two.”
“How can you think about war now when Rome is suffering a disaster?” I cried. “Three whole sections of the city lie in ruins and six others are still burning. Ancient landmarks have vanished in the flames. The Vesta temple has been burned to the ground, the tabularium too, with all the law tablets. Rebuilding Rome alone will take many years and will cost such an enormous amount that I can’t even imagine it. How can you think that a war is even possible at all?”
“Just because of that,” my father said thoughtfully. “I neither see visions nor have revelations, although I have begun to have such premonitory dreams that I must think about their contents. But dreams are dreams. Speaking logically, I think the rebuilding of Rome is going to mean heavy taxation in the provinces. This will arouse discontent, for the wealthy and the merchants usually let the people pay the taxes. When this discontent spreads, the government will be blamed. According to the greatest statesmanship, a war is the best way to provide an outlet for internal discontent. And when the war has once started, there is always money to keep it going.
“You yourself know,” he went on, “that in many quarters there are complaints that Rome has grown weak and that her warlike virtues have vanished. It is true that the young laugh at the virtues of their forefathers and perform parodies of Livy’s historical tales. But they still have wolf blood in their veins.”
“Nero does not want war,” I protested. “He was even prepared to give up Britain. Artistic laurels are all he strives for.”
“A ruler is always forced to follow the will of the people when necessary, otherwise he won’t stay long on his throne,” said my father. “Of course the people don’t want war, but bread and games in the circus. But underneath it all, powerful forces lie hidden who think they’ll do well out of war. Never before in history have such huge fortunes been made as are being made by individuals today. Freed slaves live more sumptuously than noblemen in Rome, for no traditions bind them to care for the State more than themselves. You don’t yet know, Minutus, what enormous power money has when it is combined with more money to reach its own objectives.
“Talking of money,” he said suddenly, “there are fortunately some things which are worth more. You have your mother’s wooden goblet in safekeeping, I suppose?”
I felt violently agitated, for during my quarrel with Claudia I had completely forgotten about the magic goblet. As far as I knew, my house had long since been lost and the goblet with it. I rose at once.
“My dear father,” I said, “you are more drunk than you know. It would be best if we forgot your fantasies. Go to bed now, for I must go back to my duties. You’re not the only one being attacked by furies tonight.”
In the mawkish way drunkards have, my father appealed to me not to forget his presentiments when he was dead, which would not be long now. I left his house and headed toward Aventine, skirting the edges of the fire. The heat forced me to cross the bridge into the Jewish section of the city and then have myself rowed back across farther up-river. Everyone who owned a boat was making a fortune ferrying refugees across the Tiber.
To my surprise, the Aventine slope on the river side seemed still quite untouched. Several times I went astray in the clouds of smoke, and among other things I saw that the Moon temple and its surroundings were nothing but smoking ruins. But just beside the fire area, my own house stood unscathed. There was no other explanation except that the wind, which elsewhere had had such a devastating effect, seemed to have kept the fire away from the top of Aventine although there was not even a proper fire-break. Only a few houses had been deliberately demolished.
The eighth morning of the fire dawned on the desolation. Hundreds of people lay tightly packed in my garden-men, women and children. Even the empty water-tanks were full of sleeping people. Taking long strides over them, I reached the house, into which no one had dared to go although the doors were wide open.
I rushed to my room, found the locked chest and at the bottom of it the wooden goblet in its silk cloth. When I took it in my hands, I was seized in my exhaustion with superstitious fear, as if I really were holding a miracle-performing object. I was struck by the terrible thought that the secret goblet of the Goddess of Fortune, for which my father’s freedmen in Antioch had also shown such respect, had protected my house from the fire. But then I could not think anymore, and with the goblet in my hand, I sank onto my bed and at once fell sound asleep.
I slept until the evening stars came out and was awakened by the Christians’ songs and loud cries of joy. I was so dulled by sleep that I angrily called for Claudia to tell her to be quieter. I thought it was morning and that my clients and freedmen were waiting for me as usual. Not until I had rushed out into the courtyard did I remember the desolation and everything that had happened.
The flaring lights in the sky showed that the fires were still raging in the city, but nevertheless the worst seemed to be over. I picked out my own slaves from the crowd and praised them for their courage in remaining behind to risk their lives guarding my house. I urged the other slaves to go and find their masters at once to avoid being punished for desertion.
In this way I managed to reduce the crush in my garden a little, but several small traders and craftsmen who had lost everything they possessed begged to be allowed to stay for the time being, since they had nowhere to go. They had their old people and infants with them and I had not the heart to turn them out into the smoldering ruins of the city.
Part of the temple on the Capitoline could still be seen, its colonnade still undamaged against the flaring light of the sky. Where the ruins had had time to cool, people were risking their lives searching for melted-down metals. The same day, Tigellinus issued an order for the burned-out areas to be barricaded off by soldiers to avoid disorder in the city, not even the owners being permitted to return to the ruins of their houses.
In the menagerie my employees were forced to use spears and bows and arrows to keep the crowds at a distance from our water-tanks and provision stores. Several antelope and deer which had been free in their enclosures were stolen and slaughtered, but no one had dared touch the bison.
As all the thermal baths had been destroyed by the fire, Nero crowned his second poetry reading by bathing in one of the sacred pools. It was a risky venture, but he put his trust in his swimming ability and his physical strength, for the polluted water of the Tiber would not do for him. The people did not approve of this and whisperingly accused him of sullying the last of the drinking water, after first setting fire to Rome. He had, of course, been in Antium when the fire had broken out, but who among those who wished to stir up the people would take the trouble to remember that?
I have never admired Rome’s strength and organizing ability more than when I saw how swiftly her inhabitants were helped and how purposefully the clearing work and rebuilding of the city were undertaken. Cities from far and near were ordered to send household goods and clothes. Temporary buildings were erected for the homeless. Grain ships which were empty had to load up with rubble and unload it onto the swamps of Ostia.
The price of grain was lowered to two sesterces, the lowest anyone had ever heard of. I was not affected by this, for the State had guaranteed the grain merchants a higher price. Former hollows in the ground were filled in and slopes leveled. Nero himself took possession of the whole of the area between Palatine, Coelius and Esquiline, where he wished to build a new palace, but otherwise sites and wide streets were marked out in the ruined areas regardless of earlier plans of the city. Loans from the State treasury were granted to those who were able and wished to build their houses according to the new building regulations, while those who did not consider they were able to build within a definite time limit lost their right to do so later.
All houses had to be built of stone and the maximum height was three stories. The houses had to have a shady arcade facing the street and every courtyard had to have its own water cistern. Water supplies were arranged so that the wealthy could no longer use as much as they wished for their gardens and baths.
Naturally these necessary compulsory measures aroused general bitterness, and not only among the nobility. The people complained as well about the new wide and sunny streets, which though healthier than the former winding alleys gave no shade or cool in the heat of the summer, nor hiding places for lovers at night. It was feared that when lovers were driven indoors within four walls, then premature forced marriages would become much too numerous.
Cities and wealthy individuals in the provinces naturally rushed to send voluntary gifts of money for the rebuilding of Rome. Nevertheless, these did not go very far, and the result was increased taxes which drove both cities and individuals almost to the verge of bankruptcy.
The rebuilding of great circuses, temples and theaters according to Nero’s brilliant plans seemed destined to impoverish the entire world. And then his plan for a colossal building on a scale never before imagined was made public, and when it was possible to see what huge areas he intended to keep for his own use in the center of the city, the people’s discontent was finally aroused. He was to take over the whole of the area where the grain shops which had been knocked down by battering-rams had stood, so it was even easier to believe that he himself had set the city alight to acquire space for his Golden Palace.
Toward the autumn, several tremendous thunderstorms washed the worst of the soot from the ruins, and day and night, teams of oxen hauled building stone to Rome. The continuous noise and thumping from the building activity made life intolerable, and to hasten the work, even the traditional feast days were not celebrated. The people, used to entertainments and processions, free meals and circus shows, thought their lives had become dreary and outrageously strenuous.
The widespread destruction, the fear and the danger caused by the fire remained like a thorn in the side of every citizen. Even men of Consul rank related publicly how they had been turned out of their houses and how drunken soldiers, acting on instructions from the Emperor, had set fire to their properties before the fire had come anywhere near them.
Others told of how the Christian sect had demonstrated their joy quite openly and had sung hymns of thanksgiving during the fire, and ordinary people did not see any difference between Christian and Jew. Indignant references were made to the fact that the Jewish section of the city on the other side of the Tiber had been spared from the fire, as had certain other areas inhabited by the Jews in the city itself.
The isolation of the Jews from other people, their ten independent synagogues and the jurisdiction which their Council had over their own tribes, were things which had always irritated the people. The Jews did not even have to have an image of the Emperor in their prayer-houses, and innumerable accounts of their magic became common.
Although Nero was thus blamed, both openly and under cover all over the city, for being the original cause of the fire, the people realized only too well that as Emperor he could not be punished. To blame him gave everyone a malicious pleasure, but the misfortune Rome had endured was so great that some other expiation of guilt was demantled as well.
Members of noble and ancient families who had lost their souvenirs of the past as well as their wax death masks were Nero’s chief accusers. They received support from the newly rich, too, who feared they would lose their fortunes in taxes. The people, on the other hand, appreciated the speed and care with which their sufferings had been alleviated. Nor did they have to pay for this help.
Traditionally, the people looked upon the Emperor, who was also the people’s tribune for life, as the protector of their rights against the nobility, and his person as inviolable. So it was only malicious pleasure that was felt when the wealthy had to give up their city sites to the Emperor and had their privileges circumscribed. But the rancor against the Jews and their special position was of old standing.
It was said that the Jews had prophesied the fire. Many people remembered how Claudius in his day had banished the Jews from Rome. It was not long before it was implied for the first time and then said openly that it had been the Jews who had started the fire so that their own prophecy would be fulfilled and they could make capital out of the people’s distress.
Such talk was, of course, very dangerous, so several distinguished Jews turned to Poppaea to explain to her, and through her to Nero, the great difference between Jews and Christians. This was a difficult task, for Jesus of Nazareth was a Jew in any case, and the teaching that he was Christ had been spread through the meditation of Jews. The core of the Christians in Rome still consisted of Jews who had separated from the synagogues, even if the majority of Christians were no longer circumcised.
Poppaea looked upon herself as a devout woman, respecting the temple in Jerusalem and knowing the sacred legends of Abraham,
Moses and other holy Jews. But for safety’s sake, the Jews had said little to her about the Messiah who was prophesied in the scripts. Now she became confused by their expositions, so she summoned me to her rooms on Esquiline to give her a comprehensive explanation of what the Jews really wanted.
“They want you to settle their disputes,” I said in jest.
But the Jews were indignant.
“This is no joking matter,” they said. “The Christ of the Christians is not the Jewish Messiah. A curse on those who acknowledge him as Christ. We will have nothing to do with them, whether they are circumcised or not. It was these Christians who prophesied the day of judgment and sang thanksgivings during the fire. Their crimes are not ours.”
“The Christians are not criminals,” I said hurriedly. “They are humble and perhaps slightly foolish people. Presumably more stupid than you are. Don’t the Jews believe in the ultimate judgment and the kingdom of a thousand years?”
The Jews looked sadly at me and, after consulting together, they spoke again.
‘We do not talk with dogs on such matters,” they said. “All we wish to do is to give an assurance that the guilt of the Christians has nothing to do with the Jews. We are prepared to believe any evil of them.”
I thought the conversation was taking an unpleasant turn.
“I can see in your troubled eyes, Poppaea, the signs of a headache coming,” I said hurriedly. “Let us briefly summarize the matter. The Jews deny all connections with the Christians. They look upon themselves as devout. They believe ill of the Christians, good of themselves. That is all.”
When I saw the bitter countenance of the Jews, I went on: “Perhaps there are among the Christians some former criminals and rogues who have reformed and have had their sins forgiven. Their king is said to have come especially to seek out the sinful and not the proud. But in general the Christians are meek and peaceable, they feed the poor, help widows and comfort prisoners. I. know nothing evil of them.”
Poppaea was curious.
‘What is this guilt they mention?” she asked. “There’s something suspicious in all this which I don’t understand.”
“You must have heard the absurd rumors that have been spreading among the people about the cause of our national disaster,” I said sarcastically. “I think the Jews are now trying to explain in a roundabout way and somewhat belatedly that it was not they who set fire to Rome, They consider that such a statement would be as irrational as to accuse the Emperor of the same thing,”
But my sarcasm was wasted. Poppaea was much too afraid of the magic of the Jews. Her face brightened at once.
“Now I see!” she cried. “Go in peace, you holy men. I shall not allow anyone to suspect you of anything evil. You did right to inform me that you do not acknowledge the Christians as Jews.”
The Jews blessed her in the name of their god Hallelujah and they left.
“You realize that they hate the Christians out of envy,” I said when they had gone. “The Christians have won over many of their adherents and both Jerusalem and the synagogues have thus lost many gifts.”
“If the Jews have reason to hate the Christians,” said Poppaea, “then the Christians must be both dangerous and harmful. You yourself said that they are criminals and rogues.”
And she would not listen to any more explanations, for there would be no room for them in her lovely head. I think she went straight to Nero and told him that it was the dangerous Christian sect who had set fire to Rome and that the sect consisted of nothing but criminals.
Nero was pleased to hear this and at once ordered Tigellinus to see what could be found to substantiate this accusation. But the Jews were not to be involved in the investigation, for their faith had only apparent similarities to the dangerous teachings of the Christians.
An investigation of this kind should have been undertaken by the City Prefect, but Nero put more trust in Tigellinus. In addition, the Christian faith stemmed from the East and its adherents were mostly immigrants from the East. Tigellinus was not interested in religious matters. He simply obeyed orders and turned to the lowest orders in Rome in his researches.
This was not a difficult task. In a single afternoon his minions rounded up about thirty suspected men who willingly admitted that they were Christians and were very surprised when they found themselves immediately arrested and taken to the dungeons of the Praetorium. They were sternly asked whether they had set fire to Rome the previous summer, and this they denied emphatically. Then they were asked whether they knew any other Christians. In all innocence, they gave as many names as they could remember. All the soldiers had to do was to go and fetch the men and women from their homes, and they came without protest.
By nightfall, about a thousand Christians had been rounded up, mostly people from the lowest classes. The soldiers said that all they had had to do was to go into any crowd and call out a question as to whether there were any Christians there, and then these madmen just gave themselves up to be arrested.
Tigellinus was worried by the large numbers of people he had to interrogate. As there was not room for them all, he thought it best to thin them out a little. At first he released all Jews who could show that they were circumcised. He spoke firmly to two members of the Noble Order of Knights who had come with the crowd, and then released them for what he thought was a sensible reason, that one could hardly accuse a Roman knight of setting fire to the city.
Several more well-to-do citizens, upset by the kind of people they had landed among, said they were sure it was all some mistake and offered the Prefect gifts to clear up the misunderstanding. These Tigellinus willingly released, for he thought the branded criminals and deserter slaves were the most guilty. He wished to undertake a thorough weeding out of the whole of the underworld of Rome which now after the fire was making the city unsafe at night. Such was his conception of the Christians.
At first the prisoners were calm, appealing in the name of Christ as they talked among themselves and not understanding what they were accused of. But when they saw people being sorted out and released at random and when they heard from others that everyone was being asked whether they had taken part in setting fire to Rome or knew anything about it, they began to be frightened and even distrust each other.
The separating of the circumcised from the rest roused the suspicion that the followers of Jacob, the supporters of Jerusalem, had had something to do with the matter. These people had always kept themselves apart from the Christians, following their own Jewish customs and looking on themselves as more devout than others. Violent disputes also broke out between the supporters of Cephas and those of Paul. The result was that the remaining prisoners were encouraged to denounce Christians of other kinds as much as possible. Even those who kept calm were drawn into this envy and vengefulness, and they too denounced others. There were also some who reasoned sensibly and considered it would be best to denounce as many people as possible, and highly placed people as well.
The more we are, they thought, the more impossible it will be to hold a trial. Paul was released. Tigellinus will soon come to his senses when he sees how many and how influential we are.
During the night, whole families and relatives had been arrested in this way all over Rome, so swiftly that the Praetorians could only just keep up.
Tigellinus received a gloomy awakening in the morning after his night of wine and boys. His eyes were met by the sight of the Praetorians’ huge parade ground filled with well-dressed people humbly sitting in families on the ground. Long lists of people who had been denounced were shown to him and he was asked whether house searches and arrests were also to be made of people with the rank of senator and Consul.
At first he did not believe all these reports, but said that the Christian criminals had out of sheer ill-will accused honorable citizens. So he walked threateningly around the parade ground with his whip in his hand, asking here and there: “Are you really Christians?” All of them admitted gladly and trustfully that they believed in Christ.
They were such respectable and innocent people that he did not have the nerve to give them as much as a flick of his whip, but decided that some kind of fearful mistake had been made. He and his colleagues calculated with the help of their lists that there were about twenty thousand people from all walks of life still waiting to be arrested. To punish that number seemed insane.
Rumors about the mass arrests of Christians had of course spread all over Rome. Tigellinus was soon besieged by hordes of envious and malicious people who all wished to tell him that with their own eyes they had seen the Christians gathering on the hillsides during the fire, singing songs of praise and predicting the fire which was about to fall on the city from the sky.
In the Praetorium, complete chaos reigned. The people who had been billeted in emergency housing on Mars field took the opportunity to break into homes they knew were Christian, mistreat others and plunder their shops, without differentiating between Christian and Jew.
Unhindered by the police, excited crowds arrived at the Praetorium dragging bloodstained and ill-treated Christians and Jews with them to have them charged, now they had heard that the fire-raisers had been exposed. Tigellinus still had sufficient wits left to speak firmly to these people, forbidding them to take the law into their own hands regardless of their understandable rage, and he assured them the Emperor would punish the guilty in a way that their terrible crimes deserved.
Then he sent the Praetorians out to restore order in the city. During these violent hours of the morning, the Christians were more secure within the walls of the Praetorium than they would have been in their own homes.
Since early in the morning, frightened refugees had been gathering in my house and garden on Avendne, in the hope that my rank and position would give them some security. The neighbors behaved threateningly by shouting epithets and hurling stones over the garden walls. I dared not arm my slaves, or the Christians would have been accused of armed resistance as well, so I ordered the entrance to be guarded as closely as possible. I had been put in an unpleasant position. The only fortunate thing was that Claudia had finally agreed to go with the servants to my country property in Caere, to give birth to our child there.
My anxiety over her made me sensitive and not willing to be too hard on her beloved Christians, in case I brought misfortune on her delivery. After thinking over the various possibilities, I spoke to them seriously and advised them to leave the city at once, for it was evident that some stern indictment of the Christians was coming.
But the Christians protested that no one could prove that they had done anything wrong; on the contrary, they had tried to avoid all vices and sins and lead a quiet life. They had in their human weakness perhaps sinned against Christ, but the Emperor or the State they had not injured in any way. So they wished to appoint lawyers who would defend their imprisoned brothers and sisters, and they themselves wished to take food and drink to them in their distress. At that time it was still not clear what an enormous number of people had been arrested during the night.
To be rid of them, I finally promised them money and a refuge at my properties in Praeneste and Caere. But they would not agree until I had promised to go to Tigellinus myself and defend the Christians as best I could. I had held the rank of Praetor and the Christians would find me much more use to them than they would the somewhat dubious poor-lawyers. Finally they left my house hesitantly, still talking loudly together, so that my garden became deserted.
Meanwhile the arrested Christians on the parade ground had had time to organize themselves and gather around their leaders, who after consulting each other decided to forget their internal differences and put their trust in Christ alone. He would be sure to send his spirit to defend them. They were all frightened by the cries of pain which could be heard coming from the dungeons and they consoled themselves in their anxiety with prayers and songs of hope.
Among them were several people who knew the laws and went from man to man and woman to woman, comforting them by telling them of the Imperial precedent in Paul’s case. The most important thing now was that no one, even if threatened with the worst forms of torture, should confess to being guilty of fire-raising. Such a false confession could be devastating to all Christians. Persecution and suffering for the sake of the name of Christ had been foretold. They could acknowledge Christ, but nothing else.
When I arrived at the Praetorium, I was astounded by the number of people who had been arrested. At first I was reassured, for not even a madman could believe that all these people had committed arson. I met Tigellinus at an appropriate moment, for he was temporarily completely confused and had no idea what to do. In fact he rushed up to me and shouted at me that I had given Nero an inaccurate account of the Christians, for hardly any of them seemed to be criminals.
I denied this emphatically and told him I had never said a single word to Nero about the Christians.
“I know nothing but good of them,” I said. “They are quite harmless and at their worst squabble amongst themselves on questions of faith, but they never have anything to do with State matters or even the people’s entertainments. They don’t even go to the theater. It’s madness to accuse such people of the burning of Rome.”
Tigellinus gave me a frightening grin, unrolled one of his lists and read out my own name.
“You must know all about it,” he said scornfully, “as you’ve been denounced as being a Christian. Your wife too, and all your household, but no names mentioned.”
I felt as if a heavy cloak of lead had fallen over me and I could not speak. But Tigellinus burst out laughing and hit me with the scroll.
“You don’t think I take such reports seriously, do you?” he said. “I know you and your reputation. And even if I should suspect you, I could never suspect Sabina. Whoever reported you didn’t even know you’d divorced her. No, they’re hardened criminals who out of sheer ill-will wish to demonstrate that noble circles in Rome have also been drawn into their superstition.
“But the conspiracy seems to be surprisingly large after all,” he went on. “What puzzles me most is that they all voluntarily and gladly admit that they worship Christ as their god. I can only imagine that they’ve been bewitched. But I must put an end to such witchcraft. When they see that the guilty are punished, I’m sure they’ll be frightened and quickly denounce this madness of theirs.”
“Perhaps you’d be wise,” I said carefully, “to destroy your lists. What do you mean by the guilty?”
“You’re probably right,” said Tigellinus. “Believe it or not, there are both Consuls and senators reported as alleged Christians. It would be better to keep such insults secret, otherwise our men of standing will be shamed in the eyes of the people. I don’t think I’ll even say anything to Nero about such insane things.”
He looked at me penetratingly, with a cheerful glint in his ruthless eyes. I guessed he would keep the lists and use them for blackmailing people, for of course every important man in Rome would be prepared to pay anything to prevent that kind of stain on him. Again I asked him what he had meant by the guilty.
“I’ve more than enough confessions,” he boasted.
When I refused to believe it, he took me down into the cellars and showed me, one after another, his whimpering and half-dead victims.
“Of course, I’ve only had branded criminals and deserting slaves tortured, as well as one or two others I thought were holding something back,” he explained. “A thorough beating was enough for most of them, but as you see, we’ve had to use red-hot irons and iron claws in some cases. They’re pretty tough, these Christians. Some of them died without confessing anything, but just shouted for help from Christ. Some confessed as soon as they saw the instruments.”
“What did they confess?” I asked.
“That they had set fire to Rome on orders from Christ, of course,” said Tigellinus insolently, looking straight at me. But when he saw my disapproval, he added: “Or whatever you like. One or two vaguely admitted to setting fire to houses together with the soldiers. I haven’t in fact discovered anything more criminal or conspiratorial than that. But several men who otherwise look quite worthy have voluntarily admitted that they thought that their god had punished Rome with the fire because of the city’s sins. Isn’t that enough? And others have told me that they had expected to see their god come down from the sky as the fires were burning, to judge all those who do not acknowledge Christ. That sort of thing sounds like a secret conspiracy against the State. So the Christians must be punished for their superstition, no matter whether they set the fire going with their own hands or whether they had unknowingly agreed to the whole cruel plan.”
I pointed to a young girl who lay bound with leather straps on a bloodstained stone bench. Her mouth was bleeding and her breasts and limbs were so torn by the iron claws that she was clearly dying from loss of blood.
“What has that innocent girl confessed to?” I asked.
Tigellinus rubbed the palms of his hands together and avoided my eyes.
“Try to understand me a little,” he said. “All morning I’ve had to work with dreadful coppersmiths. I must get at least a little pleasure out of all this. But I was really curious to know what she had to confess as well. Well, I got nothing out of her except that some great man or other would soon appear and judge me and throw me into the fire as a punishment for my evil doings. A vengeful girl. They all seem to talk about fire for that matter, as if they were especially attracted to it. There are people who find pleasure in watching fires. Otherwise Nero would hardly have chosen just that night to sing from the Maecenas tower.”
I pretended to look more closely at the girl, although it made me feel sick to do so.
“Tigellinus,” I said deliberately, “this girl looks like a Jewess.”
Tigellinus was appalled and gripped my arm.
“Don’t tell Poppaea, whatever you do,” he said. “How in all the names of the underworld could I tell a Jewish girl from an ordinary one? They’ve no signs of recognition on their bodies as the men have. But she was definitely a Christian. She wouldn’t denounce her madness, although I promised to let her go alive if she abandoned such superstitions. She must have been bewitched.”
Fortunately, after this dreadful incident Tigellinus decided to stop torturing his victims and had them brought back to life again so that they could go through with the punishment the Emperor meted out to them for arson. We went back to his own private interrogation room, where he was told that Senator Pudens Publicola, an old man of the Valerian family, had arrived together with an elderly Jew and was demanding loudly to speak to Tigellinus.
Tigellinus, unpleasantly surprised, scratched his head and looked helplessly at me.
“Pudens is a mild and silly old man,” he said. “What can he be angry with me about? Perhaps I’ve gone and arrested one of his clients by mistake. Stay here and help me, as you know about the Jews.”
Senator Pudens came in with his white old head trembling with rage. To my surprise, it was Cephas who was with him, his worn shepherd’s stave in his hand and his bearded face red with agitation. The third was a youth called Cletus, pale with fear, whom I had seen once before acting as interpreter for Cephas.
Tigellinus rose and began greeting Pudens respectfully, but the old man rushed up to him, aimed a kick at him with his purple boot and began abusing him.
“Tigellinus, you damned horse dealer, fornicator and pederast!” he shouted. “What do you think you’re up to? What are these false accusations against the Christians? How far do you think you can go with your insolence?”
Tigellinus humbly tried to explain that he never mixed his private life with his office of Praetorian Prefect. He was not the only pederast in Rome and he was not in the least ashamed that he had been a horse› breeder during the days of his exile.
“So stop insulting me, my dear Pudens,” he said. “Think of your dignity and that you are addressing me as a civil servant and not a private individual. If you have any charge to bring, I will listen with patience to your case.”
Cephas raised his arms and began to speak loudly in Aramaic without even looking in my direction, as if he had turned to a stranger in the same room. Tigellinus followed the direction of Cephas’ gaze.
“Who is this Jew?” he said. “And what is he saying and who is he talking to? I presume it is not sorcery, and that someone has seen to it that he has no magic charms or dangerous amulets.”
By pulling at Tigellinus’ arm, I managed to get him to listen to me.
“He’s the leader of the Christians,” I explained, “the famous Cephas. He’s supposed to have raised people from the dead and performed miracles which make Simon the magician. in his time seem like a beginner by comparison. He’s been under Senator Pudens’ protection ever since he cured the senator’s illness.”
Tigellinus stuck out two fingers like horns to ward off the evil spirits.
“He is a Jew,” he said firmly. “I’ll have nothing to do with him. Tell him to cease his sorcery and go away and take his magic stave with him. Otherwise I’ll be angry.”
Senator Pudens had by this time calmed down.
“The much respected Cephas,” he said, “has himself come to answer for all the accusations you have invented against the Christians. He asks that you release the others and take him instead. He is their shepherd. All the others, from the smallest to the greatest, are but his sheep.”
Tigellinus started back against the wall, his brown face turning pale and his lips trembling.
“Take him away,” he said uncertainly, “before I have him whipped. Tell him it would be best if he left the city altogether. On the Emperor’s orders, I am investigating the Christian conspiracy to destroy Rome. Fire-raisers have already confessed, but I must admit that many respectable Christians perhaps did not know about this terrible plan. Perhaps that old magician with his unpleasant stave did not know either.”
Pudens listened with his mouth open and the loose skin around his chin quivering. Then he shook his head.
“Everyone knows,” he said reproachfully, “that it was the Emperor himself who set fire to Rome to get the sites between Coelius and Esquiline for his mad building plans. But Nero is greatly mistaken if he thinks he can put the blame on innocent people. May he guard against the anger of the people if this becomes known.”
Tigellinus looked around in fear that the walls might be listening.
“You’re an old man, Pudens,” he then said warningly. “Your head is confused. Don’t even let such gossip pass your lips in jest. Or are you a Christian yourself and involved in it all through your muddleheaded-ness? Be careful. Your name is on the lists, though naturally I don’t put much store by such accusations. A member of the Senate can’t be a Christian.”
He tried to laugh but stared steadily at Cephas, starting every time Cephas made a movement. Pudens remembered his rank and position and realized he had gone too far.
“Well, perhaps there are fanatics and zealots among the Christians,” he said, “and even false prophets too. Perhaps a wolf has managed to get among them in sheep’s clothing. But Cephas will answer for them all at the public trial. I only hope he doesn’t, at the behest of the spirit, speak words which frighten Nero himself.”
Tigellinus also calmed down a little.
“I bear you no ill-will,” he said. “I’m always ready to meet people half way. But your Jewish magician cannot answer for others in this case. He has the same rights and special position as all the other cursed Jews. Nero has expressly forbidden me to drag the Jews into this, for not even Hercules himself would be able to tell the faithful Jews from the heretics in their Aegean stables. I think Rome would be a considerably better city without the Jews. But that is just my personal opinion and is neither here nor there. I must obey the Emperor.”
I briefly explained Tigellinus’ legal view to Cletus and he translated it for Cephas, whose face again began to turn red. At first Cephas tried to talk in a controlled manner but then he became so excited that he started thundering out his words. Cletus tried to interpret and I too intervened with my views and Pudens spoke according to his own lights, so that at one time we were all talking at once and no one could make out what the other was trying to say.
Finally Tigellinus raised both hands, as if fending us off, and demantled silence.
“Enough,” he said. “Out of respect for your white hairs, Pudens, and to win the favors of this powerful magician, I am willing to release ten or twenty, or shall we say a hundred Christians whom he may select himself. He can go out on to the parade ground and choose. I have too many Christians anyhow and shall be only too glad to be rid of some in a sensible way.”
But Cephas did not approve of this reasonable suggestion, although’ he gave it some thought. He stubbornly insisted that it was he who should be arrested and all the others set free. It was a senseless demand, but on thinking it over, I realized it was a wise one from his point of view. If he picked out one or two hundred people at his own discretion from that huge crowd, it would cause worse suspicion than ever among the Christians and at a moment when the spokesmen for the different sides had come to some measure of agreement.
Our negotiations reached deadlock, and finally, in spite of his fear of magic, Tigellinus lost patience when he saw that his authority was being undermined. He rushed out of the room and we could hear him barking out an order to the guards on duty to drive the presumptuous Jew out of the camp area with a scourge.
“But don’t use more violence than necessary,” he said, “and under no circumstances may you lay as much as a little finger on Senator Pudens. He is a Publicolian.”
But Tigellinus found it difficult to make the Praetorians obey, for some of them had heard Paul speak when they had been guarding him and had felt respect for the Christians ever since. Now they warned their friends, and Tigellinus could not make them take the responsibility, for he himself was horribly afraid of Cephas’ reputation for magic. Even the centurion in the Praetorium warned him seriously against touching such a holy man.
Finally Tigellinus was forced to promise a whole month’s extra pay to whoever would drive Cephas out of the camp and ensure he stayed outside the walls. In this way he managed to find five rough men who bolstered each other’s courage by saying that they did not fear the forces of the underworld. After tossing back a measure of wine each, they crowded into the interrogation room and began to drive Cephas out with rough lashes from their scourges.
Pudens could not interfere, for not even a senator has the right to countermand a military order. He could do nothing but abuse and threaten Tigellinus, who for safety’s sake kept at a distance and urged the Praetorians on with loud cries.
The lashes of the lead-tipped whip-thongs crashed down on Cephas’ head and shoulders, but the towering old man only straightened his broad shoulders, smiled gently, blessed the soldiers and asked them to strike harder, for it was a joy to him to suffer in the name of Christ.
To lighten their task he took off his coarse cloak, and so that it would not become spattered with blood, handed it to Senator Pudens to hold. Pudens would have been pleased to hold it, but naturally I could not let him do that because of his rank so I took the cloak over my arm instead.
Crazed with fear, the soldiers lashed at Cephas as hard as they could and accidentally injured each other with their blows. The blood flowed down Cephas’ face and into his gray beard, his tunic soon disintegrated into rags, and blood spattered onto the floor and walls so that Pudens and I had to draw back. But the harder the soldiers whipped him, the more blissfully Cephas smiled, occasionally crying out with pleasure and bidding Christ bless them for furnishing him with such great joy.
As Tigellinus watched the cruel scene, he was more than ever convinced Cephas was a terrifying wizard, even worse than Apollonius from Tyana, for he did not even feel physical pain. He shouted at the soldeirs to throw down the scourge and carry Cephas out.
They were afraid to touch him, but the whole affair had begun to affect their honor as soldiers. Encouraged by the laughter and jeers of their friends, they swore loudly and grabbed hold of Cephas, making him lose his balance although he struggled like a bull, while avoiding striking or hurting the soldiers.
They managed to carry him out through the arcade to the marble steps. There he struggled free from their grip and promised to walk of his own accord to the gateway if they scourged him all the way. The soldiers willingly let. him go, saying that their arms were paralyzed by his strength and their lashes with the scourge had lost their sting.
The arrested Christians rushed up unhindered to Cephas, jubilantly crying out his name and kneeling in long lines on each side of his path in respect for him. He told them to endure in their distress, smiling joyously as he raised his arms in blessing and cried out the name of Christ. The prisoners were seized with devout trust and courage as they watched the bleeding Cephas being whipped out of the camp, and lost their mistrust of each other.
Cephas was determined to stay outside the gateway and wait there, neither eating nor drinking, but Pudens finally persuaded him to give way, handing him over to his following and telling them to take him swiftly and secretly back to his house. He allowed Cephas to use his private sedan for this purpose, although Cephas would have preferred to go on foot, but he was swaying from emotion and loss of blood. Pudens turned back once again to negotiate with Tigellinus in a reasonable Roman manner.
When Tigellinus saw the Christians loudly murmuring and joyously crowding into the Praetorium courtyard, he came to his senses and ordered them to be driven back to the enclosure on the parade ground, giving orders to the nearest prisoners to clean the spots of blood from the floor and walls of the private interrogation room.
The Christians looked at each other in bewilderment, for they had neither brushes nor water vessels. Tigellinus burst out laughing. “You can lick the floor if you want to, for all I care,” he said. “All that matters is that it is clean.”
So the Christians knelt down and carefully wiped off every drop of blood with their clothes and kerchiefs, for they considered that it was consecrated to their god and reminded them of the suffering of Christ.
Being a sensible man, Pudens tried to save what he could and boldly appealed to Tigellinus to stand by his promise that a hundred Christians were to be selected from among the prisoners. Tigellinus wished to be in his favor because of his reputable descent and promised this willingly.
“As far as I am concerned, you can take two hundred if you want to,” he said. “From those who deny that they had anything to do with setting fire to the city.”
Pudens went out quickly to the parade ground before Tigellinus had time to regret his promise, which he had made out of sheer relief. But Tigellinus stopped to think sufficiently long to call out after him, “That’ll be one hundred sesterces in my private purse for every one of them.”
He knew that Pudens was not a wealthy man and hardly managed to keep himself above the income limit for senators. Emperor Claudius had once in his day put down the difference from his own pocket so that Pudens would not have to leave the Senate on the grounds of poverty. So Tigellinus did not think he could press him for a larger sum.
From the many Christians, Pudens chose men who he knew had been close to Cephas, and women who had children at home or else were in a hurry to get back to their households. He thought it unnecessary to select any girls as he presumed they would not be charged with arson, and none of the women was threatened with danger or punishment, as no legal jurisdiction was possible in view of the meager evidence.
So he contented himself with consoling and encouraging his own friends among the Christians and assuring them that they as respected men would be certain to be released. There was no great crush around him, and in fact some of the people he picked out refused to leave their fellow believers, preferring to share their trials.
Anyhow, Pudens took over two hundred people to be released and bargained with Tigellinus so that in the end the latter looked between his fingers insofar as the final total was concerned, and contented himself with a token sum of only ten thousand sesterces for the lot.
I was so moved by his compliance that I asked if I too might redeem some people whom I recognized as members of Paul’s following in Rome. I thought it was important that some of Paul’s followers should also be released, for the sake of unity among the Jews, else there might be malicious talk afterwards if those in Cephas’ favor received preferential treatment.
These people considered Paul’s teaching unnecessarily involved, while they who used to listen to Paul glorified in understanding the divine mysteries better than others. I felt content and was pleased at the thought of boasting to Claudia of how I had helped the Christians in their distress without gain to myself.
Tigellinus did not even demand redemption fees for them, for he needed my help for an impartial account of the Christian superstition at the court. He also held me in some respect because I had shown no fear of Cephas and had remained in his presence. He expressed his gratitude over this in a few reluctant words.
He himself still retained a healthy fear of Cephas, for the soldiers who had seized Cephas had completely lost the use of their arms. They complained pitifully of their paralysis, which they said was due to the Prefect’s orders to lay hands on a magician. I think they deliberately exaggerated their troubles to get more money. At least, I did not hear later that they had suffered any lasting consequences.
Tigellinus now considered himself ready to put the matter before Nero. He asked me to go with him, for I had shown myself knowledgeable and personally knew the Christians. He thought it was clearly my duty, for I had misled Nero by giving Poppaea inaccurate information about them. He also thought it would do no harm that I personally felt compassion for the Christians and did not wish to believe all the evil he thought he had found as a result of his interrogations. In this way the presentation would be more impartial.
We rode to Esquiline, for to speed the building work after the widening and straightening of the streets, both vehicles and horses were now permitted within the city walls in the daytime. Nero was in the best of moods. He and his suite had just enjoyed a good meal, drunk wine and had cooled themselves with a cold bath to be able to continue eating and drinking until the evening-an occasional habit of his.
He was enormously pleased with himself for discovering what he thought a politically excellent method of diverting the people’s attention from himself to the Christian criminals and thus silencing evil gossip. He was not at all disturbed by Tigellinus’ report on the huge number of detained Christians, for Nero adhered to his idea that they were nothing but loose people, rabble and criminals.
“It’s just a matter of finding a punishment to fit the tearfulness of their crime,” he said. “The more severe their punishment, the more people will accept their guilt. At the same time we can arrange plays and shows for the people of a kind which no one else has ever offered. We can’t use the wooden amphitheater, for the cellars there are still in use as emergency housing, and the great circus lies in ashes. It’ll have to be my circus on Vatican. It’s a bit cramped, of course, but we can arrange festivities for the people and a free feast in the evening in my gardens alongside, below Janiculus.”
I was not sure what he had in mind, but was bold enough to remark that first it would be necessary to hold a public trial and that probably not many people could be charged with arson on the evidence at present available.
“Why public?” asked Nero. “The Christians are criminals and slave runaways without citizenship. There’s no need for a hundred-man college to sit in judgment on such people. A decree by the Prefect will do.”
Tigellinus explained that a surprising number of the arrested people were citizens and no charge could be brought against them except that they had admitted to being Christians, and that it was difficult for him because he could not keep five thousand people on the Praetorium parade ground for several days.
The arrested citizens also seemed to have sufficient funds to be able to prolong the trial by appealing to the Emperor, even if they were sentenced in the ordinary court. So the Emperor must decide beforehand whether confessing to being a Christian was sufficient grounds to be sentenced by the court.
“Did you say five thousand?” said Nero. “No one has ever yet used so many people at once in a show or even in the greatest triumphs. I think it would be enough with just one show. We can’t have a people’s feast lasting several days. That would just delay the building work even more. Would you be able to have them marched immediately through the city to the other side and lodge them in my circus? Then the people will have a preview of the show and can give expression to their anger over these terrible crimes. As far as I am concerned, they can tear a few of them to pieces on the way, as long as you see to it that there is not too much disorder.”
I saw that Nero still had no real conception of the whole matter or its proportions.
“Don’t you understand?” I said. “Most of them are respectable and honorable people, girls and boys among them, whom no one could suspect of any evil. Several of them wear togas. You’re not seriously thinking of letting the people insult the Roman toga?”
Nero’s face clouded and he peered at me for a moment, while his thick neck and fat chin stiffened.
“You obviously doubt my powers of understanding, Manilianus,” he said, showing his displeasure by using my surname. But then he burst out laughing as he immediately had another idea. “Tigellinus can have them marched through Rome naked,” he suggested, “and then the people will have even more fun and no one will know who is respectable and who isn’t.”
Then he shook his head.
“Their apparent innocence,” he went on, “is only on the surface. My own experience has taught me to doubt those who mask their evil with external piety and virtuous habits. I know so much about the Christian superstition that the severest punishment is too mild for their ill deeds. Do you want to hear?”
He looked around inquiringly. I knew it was best to keep silent when he wished to speak, so we all asked him to continue.
“The Christian superstition,” said Nero, “is so shameful and horrifying that such a thing could only have originated in the East. They practice horrible magic and threaten to burn up the whole world one day. They recognize each other by secret signs and they assemble in the evenings behind locked doors to eat human flesh and to drink blood. For that purpose they collect children which people have left in their care and sacrifice them at their secret meetings. When they’ve eaten and drunk, they fornicate together in every natural and unnatural form. They even have intercourse with animals, at least with sheep, according to what I have heard.”
He looked triumphantly around. I think it annoyed Tigellinus that Nero in this way had forestalled him before he himself had had time to present his summary of the results of his interrogations. Perhaps he also felt the need to speak on his own behalf, for anyhow he spoke now with contempt.
“You can’t try them simply for fornication,” he said. “I know people quite near here who also assemble behind locked doors to fornicate together.”
Nero burst out laughing.
“It’s quite another matter,” he said, “if people assemble in full agreement for their own pleasure and to study such pastimes. But don’t tell Poppaea everything, for she isn’t quite so tolerant as one might wish. But the Christians do such things as a kind of conspiracy in honor of their god, hoping for all kinds of advantages over other people. They think anything is permissible to them, and the day they come to power, they’ll judge everyone else. That’s an idea which could be politically dangerous if it weren’t so ridiculous.”
We did not join in his somewhat strained laughter.
“The cellars under the Vatican circus are much too small for five thousand people,” Tigellinus put in then. “I still think that it’s unnecessary to drag citizens into the matter. I suggest that I am allowed to release all those who honesdy give an assurance that they will disclaim the Christian superstition and who are otherwise honorable citizens.”
“But then there won’t be many left to punish,” protested Nero. “Obviously they’ll all do that if they’re given the chance. They are all part of the conspiracy in the same way, even if they didn’t take a direct part in the burning. If I think there are far too many, which seems very unlikely when one thinks of the fearful crime they’ve committed, then I’ll let them draw lots among themselves. That’s what they do in war when a legion has suffered an ignominious defeat. Corbulo was given permission to have every tenth man executed in Armenia, with the help of lots. They turned out to be heroes and cowards alternately. I suggest that you draw lots for every tenth person to be set free. They’ll presumably be sufficiently frightened by the others’ punishment for the Christian superstition to vanish from Rome forever.”
Tigellinus remarked that no one had yet accused him of exaggerated mildness in his office.
“My views are purely practical,” he said. “To execute five thousand people in an artistic way, as you wish to, is not possible in a single day in that cramped circus of yours, even if we filled all the gardens with crucifixes. I wash my hands of the whole affair. If you do not wish for an artistic show, then of course a mass execution can be arranged although I suspect it won’t be much of a pleasure to the people. They’ll get bored. There’s nothing so monotonous as continuous executions all day long.”
We were all so appalled by his comments that no one said a word. We had all imagined something like twenty or so of the Christians being executed in some cruel way and the rest performing in some kind of show.
Petronius shook his head and said hastily, “No, my lord, that would not be in good taste.”
“I don’t want you, and perhaps myself too, accused of ignoring the rights of citizenship,” went on Tigellinus. “We must strike while the iron is hot. This is a matter of some urgency. I have ten or so genuine confessions but they’ll not suffice for a public trial, and all those who have confessed won’t be of any use any longer to show in public.”
He was troubled by our looks, and added irritably, “Some of them died trying to escape. That often happens.”
Again I had the feeling of a heavy cloak falling over me, but I had to speak out.
“Imperator,” I said, “I know the Christians and their customs and habits. They are peaceful people who keep to themselves without interfering in matters of State, and they avoid all evil things. I know nothing but good of them. They are foolish perhaps in their belief that a certain Jesus of Nazareth, whom they call Christ and who was crucified during Pontius Pilate’s procuratorship in Judaea, will come and free them of all sin and give them eternal life. But foolishness in itself is not an offense.”
“That’s it, that they believe they’ll be forgiven their worst crimes because everything is permissible for them,” said Nero impatiendy. “If that isn’t dangerous teaching, then I should like to know what is a danger to the State.”
Some said hesitantly that the danger from the Christians was perhaps exaggerated by rumors. If some of them were punished, then the others would be frightened and disclaim their superstition.
“In fact they hate all mankind,” protested Tigellinus triumphantly, “and believe that their Christ will appear and condemn you, my lord, and also me and my immorality, to be burned alive as punishment for our evil deeds.”
Nero laughed and shrugged his shoulders. To his credit, it must be said that he did not mind abuse directed at his own personal weaknesses but used to treat those who composed malicious verses about him with good humor.
But he looked up quickly when Tigellinus turned to me reproachfully and said, “Wasn’t it you, Minutus, who said that the Christians don’t even like theatrical performances?”
“Do they hate the theater?” said Nero, rising slowly to his feet, for abuse of his singing he would not tolerate. “In that case, they are truly enemies of mankind and deserve all punishment. We’ll charge them with arson and with being enemies of mankind. I don’t think anyone will come to their defense.”
I rose, my knees trembling violently.
“My lord,” I protested stubbornly, “I have myself occasionally partaken in the Christians’ sacred meals. I can swear on oath that nothing improper happened at them. They took wine, bread and other ordinary food. They say that these represent the flesh and blood of Christ. After the meal, they kiss each other, but there is nothing wrong in that.”
Nero waved my words away as if brushing off a fly.
“Don’t annoy me, Manilianus,” he said. “We all know that you’re not exactly a genius, even if you have some good qualities. The Christians have pulled wool over your eyes.”
“Exactly,” said Tigellinus. “Our Minutus is much too credulous. The Christian magicians have distorted his eyes. I myself was in some considerable difficulties during the interrogations. Outwardly they show a meek face, seem respectable and entice the poor by offering them free meals. But whoever pursues their mysteries exposes himself to their magic.”
The only thing we achieved was that Nero realized that two or three thousand prisoners would suffice for his show, and he gave Tigellinus authority to release those who disclaimed their superstition as long as there would be sufficient members left for a trial.
“Let us meanwhile think up something pleasant to amuse the people,” he suggested. “Tigellinus, you must see to it that there are also some healthy girls and youths for the theater performance and not just branded slaves.”
When I went back to the Praetorian camp with Tigellinus, I thought that Nero was considering some funny and shameful theater performance as a punishment for most of the Christians, and then releasing them after a few had been executed to satisfy the people.
Tigellinus said nothing. He had his own plans, although I did not know it at the time.
We went out on to the parade ground. The prisoners were exhausted by the sun, for it was a hot autumn day. They had received food and water from the city, but it had not sufficed for them all. Many who were hungry and thirsty asked to be allowed to provide themselves with food, as the laws and custom permitted.
When Tigellinus caught sight of a respectable man in a toga, he stopped and spoke to him in a friendly way.
“Did you take part in setting Rome on fire?” he asked, and on receiving a negative reply, he said, “Have you been punished for any shameful crime before?” When he had received a satisfactory reply, he then cried out delightedly, “Good! You look like an honorable man. You can go free if you promise to disclaim the Christians’ pernicious beliefs. I suppose you’ve got a hundred sesterces to pay for the costs of arrest?”
But he was unpleasantly surprised, and to tell the truth, I was surprised too, to hear one after the other calmly reply that they could not deny Christ, who had saved them from their sins and called them to his kingdom. Otherwise they said they would be glad to go home and pay fifty, a hundred, or even five hundred sesterces to cover the expense they had caused the State.
Finally Tigellinus was in such a hurry to achieve something that he turned a deaf ear and muttered the question: “You forswear Christ then, don’t you?” and answered every denial with a hasty: “Good, then you can go.” He even ceased demanding bribes, as long as the more respectable prisoners would agree to go away. But many of them were so stubborn that they secredy turned back to the parade ground and hid themselves among the other Christians.
Meanwhile Tigellinus had the Praetorians on duty in die city spread it about that he was thinking of having the people responsible for the fire of Rome marched right through the ruins along the via Sacra to the other side of the river, where they would be detained in Nero’s circus. He let it be known to the guards that he had no objections if one or two prisoners were allowed to escape into the crowd on the way. Some of the older people and the weaker women complained that it was a long way, but Tigellinus swore jestingly that he could not provide sedans for everyone for every little promenade.
A howling mob assembled along the road and threw dirt and stones at the Christians, but the procession turned out to be so unimaginably long that even the worst troublemakers’ tired long before the end was in sight. I myself rode back and forth along the procession and saw to it that the Praetorians did their duty and protected the prisoners from the crowd.
Some of them struck the prisoners so hard that they remained lying on the ground in their own blood, but when we reached the via Sacra and the sky turned red and the shadows lengthened, a strange silence descended on the crowds along the wayside. It was as if the whole city had for one moment fallen into a ghost-like silence. The Praetorians looked anxiously around, for among them a rumor had spread that the sky would open and Christ would step down in his glory to protect his people.
Exhausted from hunger, thirst and lack of sleep, many of the Christians sat down on the edge of the road when their legs would no longer carry them, but they were not pestered any longer. They called out after the others, begging not to be left behind and deprived of their share of Christ’s joy. So the more enterprising among the Christians hired some of the wagons used to cart rubble and building stone, and then put those who had fallen by the wayside into them. Soon the procession was being followed by a hundred or so carts so that no one need be left behind. Tigellinus did nothing to stop this, but he swore that the Christians were more obdurate in their superstition than he ever would have imagined.
He made a mistake when he led the procession across Aesculapius island and the Jewish part of Vatican. Dusk had already fallen and when the crowd following the procession saw the Jews, they again became unruly, began to ill-treat them and break into Jewish houses for loot. Tigellinus had to order most of the procession’s escort to restore order, so the stream of Christians had to make their own way to the circus on Vatican.
I heard the men and women at the head of the procession ask one another whether they were going the right way. Some went astray in the darkness of Agrippina’s gardens, but toward the morning, everyone had somehow found his way to the circus. It was said that not a single Christian had run away, but I find that hard to believe. As darkness fell and the fights raged in the fourteenth sector of the city, it would have been a simple matter for anyone to slip away home.
Naturally there was not enough room for that number of people in the cellars and stables, and many had to lie down on the arena sand. Tigellinus allowed them to make up beds from the hay store and he had the water pipes in the stables opened for them. This was not from consideration, but because he as a Roman was responsible for the Christians.
Some children who had lost their parents and some girls whom the Praetorians had singled out of the crowd to defile, thus fulfilling the demands of Roman law that no virgin can be condemned to physical punishment, I sternly commantled to go home, in the name of Christ, for otherwise they would not have obeyed me. I was not the only one who in the confusion was forced to appeal to Christ. I overheard the Praetorians in charge of the queues for water clumsily giving their orders in the name of Christ. Otherwise they would never have kept any order at all.
Depressed, I returned to Tigellinus and we again reported to Nero on Esquiline.
“Where have you been?” Nero said impatiently when he saw me. “Just when I needed you for once. Tell me what you’ve got in the way of wild animals in the menagerie?”
I told him the choice was very limited, for we had been forced to reduce the number of animals because of the water and fodder shortages caused by the fire. For hunting game, I explained unsuspectingly, I had virtually nothing except Hyrcanian bison and harrier hounds. Sabina had her lions, of course.
“But,” I said gloomily, “with the crushing new water taxes, I don’t think we’ll be able to increase our stock of animals.”
“During my reign,” said Nero, “I have been accused of being too mild and of widening the gap still further between the people and the former great virtues of Rome. So for once, they will have what they want, however distasteful I personally think it is. But the Christians’ terrible crime and their enduring hatred of mankind justify it. So they’ll go to the wild animals. I’ve already gone through the myths to find ideas for suitable tableaux. Fifty virgins can be the Danaides and fifty youths their menfolk. Dirce was the one who was tied to the horns of a bull.”
“But,” I protested, “during your reign, not even the worst criminals have been condemned to the wild animals. I thought we’d finished with that kind of barbaric custom. I’m not prepared for that sort of thing. I haven’t the necessary wild animals. No, I refuse to consider it.”
Nero’s neck swelled with rage.
“Rome is mistaken if she thinks I’m afraid to see blood in the sand,” he cried. “You will do as I say. Whoever represents Dirce shall be tied to the horns of the bison. The hounds can tear a hundred or so to pieces.”
“But, my lord,” I said. “They are trained to hunt only wild animals. They won’t touch human beings.” After a moment’s thought, I added cautiously: “Of course, we could arm the prisoners and let them hunt the bison with the hounds. Even experienced hunters can lose their lives in that kind of hunting. You’ve seen that for youself.”
Nero stared at me and then his voice became dangerously quiet.
“Are you defying my wishes, Manilianus?” he said. “I think I have made it quite clear what kind of display I wish from you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow!” I cried. “You are out of your mind, my lord. There isn’t time.”
Nero raised his great head and looked at me.
“Nothing is impossible for Nero,” he said boastfully. “Tomorrow is Idus day. The Senate assembles at dawn, and I shall inform it that the fire-raisers have been exposed. As soon as the entire Senate has had time to get to the circus, the displays will begin. My decision in a case like this is a legally valid verdict and a trial will not be necessary. My learned friends here are in agreement on that. Only out of respect for the Senate and to put an end to certain evil rumors once and for all, shall I make this statement to the Senate and invite them to the circus and then they can see with their own eyes that Nero is not afraid of blood.”
“I’ve no wild animals for the purpose,” I said curtly, prepared at the same time to receive a goblet thrown at me or a kick in the stomach. Such actions were of no importance, for as long as Nero could find an outlet for his rage in physical violence, he would calm down and soon be placated.
But this time he turned quieter than ever, and, pale with anger, he stared at me.
“Was it not I who once appointed you superintendent of the menagerie?” he asked coldly. “Are they your animals or mine?”
“The menagerie is unquestionably yours even if I have spent a great deal of money of my own on the buildings there,” I said. “This I can prove. But the animals are my own personal property. In the State accounts and in your own accounts you can see for yourself that I have sold the necessary animals to the hunting games, and for the displays of trained animals I have debited a fee in accordance with the value of the show. I neither sell nor hire out my wild animals for what you now want them. Neither you nor even the Senate can force me against my will to hand over my private property to satisfy a merciless whim of yours. Roman law secures that right. Am I not correct?”
The lawyers and the senators nodded uneasily. Nero suddenly smiled at me in a wholly friendly manner.
“We were just discussing you too, my dear Minutus,” he said. “I defended you as best I could, but you are very much involved in the Christian superstition. You know much too much about it. Also, last summer during the fire, you stole a valuable and irreplaceable horse from my stables on Palatine and never returned it. I have not reminded you of this, for Nero is not small-minded whatever else can be said of him. But is it not strange that your house alone was spared in Aventine? It is also said that you have remarried without telling me. Don’t be afraid. There are many reasons for keeping a marriage secret. But I rather mind when it is said of a friend of mine that his wife is a Christian. And you said yourself that you have taken part in their secret meals. I hope that here among friends you can immediately clear yourself of such tiresome charges.”
“Gossip is gossip,” I protested desperately. “One would think that you at least, yes, you more than anyone, my lord, would despise unfounded slander. I did not think you ever listened to such things.”
“But you force me to, Minutus,” said Nero mildly. “You put me, as your friend, in a very difficult position. It is politically necessary to punish the Christians swiftly and thoroughly. Or would you prefer to accuse me of setting fire to Rome, as certain senators, owing to an inherited envy, are doing behind my back? You oppose the punishment I wish for the Christians. You must know that your reluctance is of a political nature. I cannot see it as anything else but a demonstration against myself as regent. You presumably don’t wish to force me, your friend, to condemn you as a Christian, naturally not to the wild animals, but to lose your head because you are an enemy to mankind and to me. That would presumably be the only way to acquire your property legally for the State. Do you really love the Christians and your wild animals more than myself or your own life?”
He smiled, pleased with himself, knowing he had trapped me. For the sake of form, I still hesitated, but I thought quickly as I did so. In my defense, I must plead that I was thinking more of Claudia and my unborn child, that is you, Julius, than myself. At least, I gave some thought to you both.
Finally I gave in.
“We could, of course,” I said, “dress some of the prisoners in bearskins and wolfskins. Perhaps the hounds would attack them if they smelled the scent of wild animals. But you don’t give me much breathing space, my lord, to arrange a good display.”
They all burst into relieved laughter and no further mention was made of my connection with the Christians. Perhaps Nero had wished only to frighten me and not deliberately threaten me. But he had commantleered my animals all the same, for the menagerie’s accounts would not stand up to a thorough scrutiny as I had debited my expenditure to both the State treasury and to Nero’s own fiscus, as far as their resources would go.
I think that Nero would in any case have had my animals at his disposal whatever had happened to me. So I still consider I did the only possible thing. I cannot see what good it would have done the Christians or myself if from sheer obstinacy I had allowed my head to be cut off. When I made the decision, of course I had no idea of my father’s intentions in connection with this deplorable story.
It would have been useless to resist. By the time the evening stars were out, Nero had already had his heralds announce the feast day in the remaining parts of the city and had called the people to a spectacle in the circus on Vatican. The procession of Christians had not then reached there.
I was in such a hurry to get to the menagerie that we had time only to outline the main points of the program. That same night I still had to find time to select the animals and have them ferried across the river, which was no easy task, even if I say so myself. I had the alarm sounded at the menagerie at once and had torches and large bowls of oil lit, so that the whole area was as clear as daylight.
The animals naturally grew even more uneasy than the people when they were awakened from their sleep by the flickering lights and the general clamor. But the rumble of carts and ox-drawn sledges mixed with the bellowing of the bison, the trumpeting of the elephants and the dull roar of the lions made such a noise that it could be heard all the way to Mars field, and the people there rushed out of their temporary dwellings in the belief that the fire had broken out again.
In addition to our own vehicles, I requisitioned the strong wooden ox-sledges which day and night dragged building stone from the quarries outside the city. I had their loads emptied on the spot. Tigellinus put a cohort of Praetorians at my disposal, whom I bribed with money and wine to work at top speed, although they were tired out after twenty-four hours’ continuous duty.
My worst obstacle was, of course, Sabina, who rushed at me with reproaches, straight from Epaphroditus’ bed.
“Are you mad?” she shouted. “What are you doing? What do you mean by this?”
She did not wish under any circumstances to allow her trained lions to take part in Nero’s show, for all her long and patient training would be wasted if such lions were allowed to tear a person to pieces just once.
Fortunately Epaphroditus was more sensible and realized the urgency of the matter, and he himself helped cage three untamed lions which had arrived from Africa two months before. The worst of it was that the animals had all had their evening meal and were much too satisfied. Several old slaves who could still remember Emperor Claudius’ great wild animal displays fifteen years earlier shook their heads worriedly and said the animals would not be much use.
We had no transport cages for the Hyrcanian bison, for they were usually driven along a stout enclosure and an underground tunnel to the stables in the wooden amphitheater. We had to catch them and tie them up in their grazing enclosure. When one thinks that there were thirty or so of them and capturing them took place partly in the dark, with the animals bolting in all directions and butting each other in their excitement over the noise and the flaring torchlight, then I think I deserve some respect for accomplishing the task before dawn.
To set an example, I had to help too, after two inexperienced Praetorians had been gored to death and several others trampled so that they were crippled for life. I myself was trodden on once and had several grazes, but did not break any bones or notice the pain in the rush. One of the bears paralyzed my arm with a blow, but it only pleased me to feel the tremendous strength of these beasts.
I had had tailors and shoemakers all over the city routed out of their beds. We happened to have enough wild animal pelts, for it had become unfashionable to use skins as bedcovers and wall-hangings since Greek refinements had made headway in noble households. This had caused me considerable financial losses, but now I thanked Fortuna that I had plenty in my stores.
When the day dawned, complete chaos reigned in Nero’s circus, as the theater people came with their costumes, soldiers put up poles and slaves built sheds and leafy huts all round them. Whole houses were speedily constructed on the sand in the area, and I had a block of stone hauled into the middle of the arena.
It was impossible to stop the violent quarrels which arose, for each person looked upon his own task as his part in the preparations and as the most important. The worst were the Christians, who were lying all over the place or were wandering inquisitively about, getting in everyone’s way.
The circus was extremely cramped. I was forced to use all the cellars and stables and hastily strengthen the walls for my animals, for the circus had been used only for races. The strongest of the Christians were put to work and the others driven up onto the spectators’ stands. There were not enough privies for such a huge number of prisoners and in the end they had to hurry around cleaning and scrubbing all the passages they had soiled. In spite of this, we still had to burn incense everywhere and use great quantities of perfume to make the Imperial box and the senators’ seats presentable. I admit that my animals were partly responsible for the unpleasant smell, but I myself was so used to the stench of wild animals that I did not notice it any longer.
The Christians were made uneasy by the general confusion and gathered in groups to pray and praise Christ. Some of them jumped about and danced in ecstasy, with their eyes rolling. Others spoke in tongues which no one understood. When they saw this, many Praetorians said that it was Nero’s first sensible measure as Emperor to eradicate such witchcraft from Rome.
But even the most sensible Christians did not yet know the fate that awaited them, and they watched all the preparations in surprise. Some who knew me by sight came innocently up to me in the middle of all the rush to ask how long they would remain under arrest and when the trial would begin. They considered they had many important matters to arrange and see to in their work. I tried in vain to explain to them that the verdict had already been pronounced and that it would be best if they prepared themselves to die courageously in different ways and in honor of Christ, to make a memorable spectacle for the Senate and the people of Rome. But they just shook their heads and did not believe me.
“You’re just trying to frighten us for fun,” they said. “Such things cannot happen in Rome.”
They did not even believe me when they had to strip and the tailors and shoemakers hurriedly began to sew them into animal skins. On the contrary, some of them laughed and gave advice to the sewers. Young boys and girls growled and pretended to claw at each other after being dressed in a panther skin or a wolfskin. So great is human vanity, that they even competed for the most beautiful pelts when they saw that they were going to be forced to wear them. They did not realize why, although they could hear the continuous howling of my harrier hounds in the cellars.
When the theater people selfishly began to select the most beautiful and attractive people for their own purposes, I thought I had better look after my own interests and had the thirty most beautiful women selected for me for the Dirce number. While the Danaides and their Egyptian bridegrooms were being dressed in their costumes, I managed to collect what I thought was a satisfactory supply of women ranging from sixteen to twenty-five years of age, and had them taken to one side, so that no dishonest theater people could come and snatch them from me.
I think the Christians first realized the truth when the first rays of sunlight began to fall across the sand and the soldiers began to crucify the worst criminals. I had been forced to use the beams and planks that had been brought for the purpose to strengthen the walls of the stables, but even so it was no use putting up crosses too near each other on the sand, for they would only have obstructed both the view and the displays.
Tigellinus had to hurry off to the Senate. Hastily, I decided that only fourteen crosses, one for each sector of the city, should be raised in the arena. On each side of the entrances there would be space for more crosses, but beyond that they would have to be content with nailing as many as there was room for to the wooden fencing which ran around the race-course.
To make more room, Tigellinus had sent a thousand men and a thousand women under guard to Agrippina’s gardens, where Nero was to invite the people to a meal in the evening. But the people would have to be offered something during the show too, for the Vatican circus is so far from the city itself that one could not expect the people to go home for their midday meal. Thanks to the excellent organization in the Imperial kitchens, innumerable food hampers now began to arrive as quickly as the men could carry them, one basket per ten spectators, special baskets with wine and roast chicken for the senators, and two thousand baskets for the Noble Order of Knights.
I thought that it was unnecessary to have so many Christians nailed to the fencing around the arena, using so many expensive nails. In addition I was afraid that the cries from the crucified would disturb the displays, although at first, perhaps from nothing but surprise, they were astonishingly quiet. I do not say this from envy. It becomes monotonous, watching the crucified writhing about when there are so many of them. So I was not in the least afraid that the crowd’s attention would be distracted from my animals to the advantage of Tigellinus’ innovation.
But when a thousand people scream with pain, it is a sound which drowns the best bear growls and even the roaring of lions, not to mention the heralds’ explanations of the mimes, I thought I acted correctly when I assembled some of the leading Christians and sent them around to ask the crucified people to be quieter during the show, or at most cry out in the name of Christ so that the people would know for what they were being punished.
The Christian teachers, several of whom were already sewn into animal skins, understood their task exactly. They spoke to the groaning people and assured them that theirs was the greatest honor, for they were being allowed to die on the cross as Jesus of Nazareth had done. Their trials were to be short compared with the eternal salvation which awaited them in the kingdom of Christ. That very evening they would be in paradise.
The teachers spoke so convincingly that I had to smile. But when with even greater fervor they began to tell the crucified people that this day was the day of greatest joy, in which the innocent were to be allowed to suffer to the glory of Christ and as his witnesses ascend to heaven, I began to bite my lips.
It was as if these teachers seriously envied the fate of those who had been crucified. I could not look on all this as anything else but a display. So I remarked quite brusquely that as far as I was concerned, they could exchange their own brief agony for the lengthy agony of crucifixion if they liked.
But so incurable was their blindness that one of them tore off his bearskin and begged me for the honor of being crucified. I could do nothing else but comply and ordered the Praetorians to crucify him in one of the intervals.
The Praetorians, annoyed at this extra work, struck him several times, for their arms were numb and aching from, driving in so many coarse nails with heavy hammers. I had nothing against their beating him, for the law prescribes that those who are to be crucified are first scourged out of mercy so that they die sooner on the cross. But unfortunately we had no time to scourge the Christians. The most indulgent of the Praetorians contented themselves with poking them here and there with the points of their spears to give the blood some outlet.
And still I must admire the Roman ability to organize, thanks to which Nero’s command, which had seemed quite absurd, could be carried out so admirably. When in the bright morning the people began to stream through the circus entrances and the roads outside were white with the crowds, all the spectators’ stands were clean, the buildings ready in the arena, the performers dressed, the order of events decided, the roles allocated and the crucified in their places, jerking and whimpering quietly.
The howls of the hounds and the bellowing of the bison sounded promising to the ears of the crowd. While the most eager among them fought for the best seats, everyone who came quietly through the gates was given newly baked bread and a morsel of salt, and anyone who wished could have a mug of diluted wine.
I felt great pride in Rome as I hurriedly washed myself and changed into my red-bordered festive costume beside a pile of hay in the stables. The ever-increasing hum of contentment coming from a crowd waiting with tense expectation makes a deep impression. After drinking a couple of mugs of wine, I realized that one of the reasons for my joyful pride was the joyousness of the Christians. They exhorted each other not to weep and assured each other that it was better to laugh in an ecstasy of joy as they waited to be allowed to witness at the gates of the kingdom of Christ.
As the wine rose pleasantly to my weary head, I was all the more convinced that this show, at least as fax as I was concerned, could not but succeed. I should scarcely have felt so calm and proud of what I had arranged, had I known what was happening at the same time in the Curia. When I think about it now, I am seized with such sorrow and oppression that I must begin a new’book in order to be able to tell you about it without agitation.