It was dark. In the dining-room of Cneius Afranius a small party had just risen from table. Six guests had shared the modest meal--men differing in age and position, but agreed in feeling, unanimous in their hatred of the imperial reign of terror, and alike in courage and strength of character. During the meal none but commonplace topics were discussed, convinced as Afranius was of the fidelity of his slaves; under Domitian’s rule, suspiciousness had risen to the dignity of a virtue. Even the commissatio--the friendly cup which, in accordance with time-honored custom, closed the meal--lent no impetus to the conversation. Each one was thinking of the discussion, that was now to follow.
They all went into the colonnade, if the small and unpretending court-yard deserved the name. Cneius Afranius, the son of a poor family of knightly rank of Gallia Lugdunensis, would probably have been obliged to start on his career in Rome as a mere lodger in hired rooms, but that a childless friend of his father’s had bequeathed to him a small legacy, which enabled him to purchase a little house, which had formerly belonged to a seaman, on the right bank of the Tiber, and in the midst of a very humble quarter. The situation was crowded and almost squalid, and the little villa was only rendered rather less unattractive, by the visible care bestowed on its arrangement by its new owner, and yet more by the pretty little garden in its peristyle. Afranius was very conscious of its defects, but they did not distress him. That painful sensitiveness, which torments many men in narrow circumstances, when intercourse with other men of greater wealth reminds them of their poverty, was unknown to him. And as his dress was always in the best style, though of plain materials, those who met him elsewhere than in his own house supposed him to be well-to-do; this impression was partly the result of his general appearance and demeanor. Aurelius, who had crossed his threshold today for the first time, thought as he entered the vestibule, that he must have made a mistake; it seemed impossible that the self-possessed, easy-mannered Afranius could live in so humble a dwelling.
The six men went slowly and in order from the dining room to the study. First came the tall figure of the grey-haired Marcus Cocceius Nerva, leaning on the arm of Ulpius Trajanus; Publius Cornelius Cinna followed with Caius Aurelius, and last came the host with an old centurion, who had long served in the wars in Germania and Dacia, and had lost his left arm in the service. Now, robbed by Domitian of a pension which had formerly been granted to him, he had for years earned his living wearily as a teacher in an elementary school kept by a retired physician, until Ulpius Trajanus had granted the veteran free quarters in his own house.
The slaves were now strictly enjoined to admit no one to disturb the party, and Momus, the confidential servant of Afranius, posted himself at the door of the room, that no eavesdropping intruder might come too near.
“My friends,” began Marcus Cocceius Nerva, when they were all seated, “we have met expressly to hold pregnant and momentous council. Our aim is to find the ways and means of at last carrying into effect the steps, which we have been deliberating on for many months. The reign of terror of Domitian has from the first been well-nigh unendurable, and now his outrages, his unblushing insolence, have reached a pitch at which our very blood curdles in our veins. Two days since, we all heard from Cinna of the incredible insults offered by Caesar to the most illustrious members of the Senate and of the knightly order; since then other outrages have come to our ears. If Titus once declared that he regarded a day as lost, in which he had done no good action, this, his degenerate brother, accounts each day as misspent, in which he has not trampled justice under-foot, and crowned tyranny with boastful insolence. You all knew Junius Rusticus; he was an excellent man, experienced in every branch of learning, generous, and of the loftiest morality. This illustrious philosopher was, yesterday, crucified. And why, my friends, why? Because he dared to assert that Paetus Thrasea, Nero’s noble victim, was a man of blameless character. For this, and this alone, Junius Rusticus died the death of the basest assassin.”
A gloomy murmur rose from the audience. All, with the exception of Aurelius, already knew the facts, but they sounded with renewed horror from the lips of the venerable man.
“Nor is this all,” Cocceius went on. “A second crime almost throws the murder of Rusticus into the shade. Not long since a man of fortune named Caepio, of the order of Equites, died here. His heiress was his niece, a young girl of about fourteen. However, a man was found, who would declare openly that in Caepio’s lifetime he had frequently heard him say, that Caesar was to inherit his fortune. On the strength of this lie, the property was unhesitatingly appropriated. The hapless girl, alone and inexperienced, fell into infamy. Sunk in wickedness, crushed by shame and sickness, a few days since she placed herself in the way, as Caesar was being borne to the Forum. She lifted up her hands to the throne on which he was carried, and cried in desperate accents for justice. She was seized by the body-guard, and flogged to death this morning.”
“Death to her murderer!” cried Cinna, shaking his fists in the direction of the palace. “The fate of this poor child may fall on you, O Nerva! on you, Ulpius Trajanus, on you, Cneius Afranius. In the empire of this tyrant there is but one law: the mad whim of a blood-hound.--To-day his Falernian has gone to his head--a beck, a nod, and the daughters of our noblest families are stolen for his pleasure. To-morrow he has eaten and is full--he must be amused, and Rome breaks out in flames. Ah! hideous, bottomless pit of disgrace! Decide as you will, my resolution is taken. In the Senate, in the Forum, in the theatre--meet him where I may--I will kill him.”
“Be easy, my dear friend,” said Cocceius. “You are the last man, who would ever be allowed to get near enough. The suspicious tyrant, who has the walls of his sleeping-room lined with mirrors, so that he may see what is going on behind him--he will know how to protect himself from Cinna. Besides, never let us stain our just cause with unnecessary bloodshed! The goal, that glimmers before us, can be reached without the murder of Caesar. If the revolted nation brings him presently before the judgment-seat of the Senate, he will be legally condemned to death, and then he may meet the fate he has merited a thousand times over. But we, whose purpose it is to open an era of freedom and justice, must, whenever it is in any way possible, keep our hands clean. We are conspirators against his throne, but not his executioners.”
Muttered words of approbation assured the orator, that he spoke the feelings of his friends. Even Cinna agreed.
“You are right,” he said frowning. “You are always clear and logical, when my heart seethes with rage. It is well, my worthy colleagues, that you did not put me at your head. I am good in action, or where energetic decision is needed; but in the history of the world well-meditated plans and calm resolve weigh heavier in the scale.”
“And their union will suffice to break our bonds,” added Afranius. “But I must confess I am burning to know how Ulpius has solved the problem.--I know how I should solve it....”
“Well?” asked Ulpius Trajanus. “You have always been the silent member at our meetings. Perhaps I may be able to avail myself of what you have to suggest, to strengthen my own web.”
“What I have to say is very little, but it seems to me all the clearer and more simple for that very reason. Rage, hatred, and desperation are fermenting in every soul The fuel is piled, nothing is needed but the spark. Let us fling the spark in among the masses. Let us boldly and unreservedly call the people of Rome to open rebellion.”
“Moderation!” exclaimed Cocceius Nerva. “Wildly as our hearts may throb, let us take no step which calm wisdom cannot approve! We must not act from sentiment! You are in error, Afranius, if you think that the populace, which clamors for bread and the Circus, will ever feel any enthusiasm for liberty. What has this rabble of idlers, this self-interested mob, that lives on the largesse of the State, to fear from Caesar? Lightning blasts oak-trees, but not the brushwood that cumbers the ground. Whether Titus or Domitian rules, whether the Senate is respected or insulted--it is all the same to the herd, so long as there are wrestling, running, and fighting to be seen. They would sell themselves bodily to the first Barbarian, who would buy them, so long as they had bread and amphitheatres, and a Sicambrian is just as good in their eyes as the direct descendants of Romulus. Alas! my friends, when I look out on the scene of confusion I am seized with sudden terror, and the outlook on the future waxes dim before my eyes. This indifference and want of patriotism is spreading on all sides; it has even tainted the army.--If some change for the better does not soon appear, it may well happen that this haughty city may ere long crumble into ruins--aye, my friends, into ruins--destroyed and sacked by the insolent rout of Germanic tribes, who are already thundering at our gates. They will overcome the small remains of our virtue with the sword, and the vast host of our crimes with their gold.”
He ceased; an expression of deep grief clouded his handsome features. Then, turning to Afranius, he said: “And so what I meant to say was, that the mob of the capital must, come what may, be kept out of the game.”
“You say the mob,” said Afranius, “but there is a class closely allied with the mob which, though small in number, is all the greater in force, high-mindedness, and dignity. Believe me, even among the third estate--among the fishermen and dealers, the artisans and handicraftsmen, there still are Romans to be found.”
“Very possibly. But large schemes cannot take account of so small a factor. The very way in which the State has developed, has thrown the chief power into the hands of the troops, and he who is master of the soldiery, is master of Rome and the Empire. You know how completely the legions in the provinces are dependent on the impression of an accomplished fact. It can scarcely be expected, that any single division of the army outside the walls of Rome will take up arms for Domitian, if once we have the metropolis in our power. We can gain over the Praetorian guard with a word. Ulpius, my beloved son, make known to us now, what you have attempted and achieved in this direction.”
Ulpius Trajanus leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms over his breast. His noble and frank countenance, stamped in every feature with generous honesty, suddenly grew anxious and grave. Lucilia had been right when she said incidentally, that Ulpius Trajanus reminded her of Caius Aurelius. Although considerably older and of a dark southern type, the Hispanian, like the young Northman, had that look of genuine human benevolence, which lends a bright and harmonious expression to any features.
“My friends,” began Ulpius Trajanus, coloring a little; “I can as yet, to my great regret, report nothing decisive. I came hither not to announce a success, but to hear what you had to say. Within the last few months many new recruits have joined the ranks of the Praetorians; magnificent gifts of money are distributed every week to the officers and men. Norbanus, the officer in command, is loaded with favors, so it would be difficult to find an opening--! Indeed, I am firmly convinced that Norbanus, who is an honest man, places the welfare of the country far above any other consideration; however, up to this moment, all my efforts to fathom him have been in vain. He speaks out more frankly than many others, it is true, but his openness always bears upon trifling matters. He instinctively knows the limits of discretion. It would be waste of words to tell you of every detail. I have given myself no rest from labor or vigilance, and it is not my fault if the rock repeatedly rolls back into the gulf.”
“Promise him the consulate,” muttered Cinna frowning; “trip him up, trample on him, hold the dagger to his breast....”
“The dagger’s point might only too easily be turned upon us,” said Trajanus smiling.
“He is right, Cinna,” Nerva threw in. “It is precisely his self-command and coolness, that fit him for the part assigned to him, and he must play it to the end in the spirit of those who have trusted him.”
“But self-command must come to an end and issue at last,” said Afranius, leaning his round chin on his hand. “I have no thought of even hinting a reproach to our worthy Ulpius; I only mean, that if Lucius Norbanus persists in the part of the mysterious oracle, and Trajanus waits for the spirit to move him, without giving it a helping hand, our work of redemption will remain in the clouds. Besides, nothing is more dangerous than a long-planned conspiracy. Before you can turn round the palace will have caught wind of it, and by the day after to-morrow, the splendid museum of Domitian’s victims will be increased by a few valuable specimens.”
Cornelius Cinna nodded assent.
“Excess is mischievous in anything, even excess of caution,” he said eagerly. “We must strike now, if not with the aid of the body-guard, why, then without it--or, if need be, against it. There are troops enough in Gallia Lugdunensis, to defeat the few cohorts of Norbanus. Cinna is thought highly of by the legions, and I myself have many devoted allies among the officers; while not a few of the soldiers will remember, that I have always been a friend and supporter of the third estate.”
“I can answer for that,” said the old centurion, who had till this moment sat silent in his easy-chair. “Nor am I altogether devoid of adherents, though I cannot compete with Cinna. I should think it would not be difficult....”
“Enough!” interrupted Cocceius Nerva with a friendly wave of his hand. “I see that your opinions are divided. Allow me to make a suggestion. The danger of discovery does not seem so imminent, as to compel us to forego all attempt to rely on the support of Rome. Let us separate in the firm determination, to prepare and meditate everything that can help us towards our goal. I am chiefly thinking of Caius Aurelius, who made friends so rapidly with Norbanus, and who is regarded with less suspicion at the palace than Ulpius Trajanus. We will meet again fourteen days hence, here, in the house of Afranius, and at the same hour. If in the meanwhile our plan has made no progress, we will give up the City of the Seven Hills, and set to work in Gallia Lugdunensis.”
This proposal was unanimously agreed to.
“Yet one thing more. It is quite possible, that in the course of these fourteen days events might occur, on which it is impossible to reckon beforehand. I am perfectly convinced, that not a soul in the palace suspects anything as yet; but spies are innumerable, and an accident, a heedless word, a glance, a gesture, might betray us. Just at this time fresh suspicions have been roused in Caesar’s court. Let us be ready to fly at a moment’s notice.”
“To fly!” exclaimed Cinna. “Is that the road to victory?”
“I only say in the worst extremity....”
“That would indeed be the worst! Do you already know of any mischief? Do you know, that a spy has already betrayed us?”
“No, my dear Cinna, I know nothing; I was only considering possibilities.”
“But that possibility is exactly what is not to be borne! I feel now, twice as strongly as before, that our only safety is in action.”
“But can you act?” asked Cocceius. “Is Norbanus our ally? Are the legions under your command? If so, act, and at once, Cinna! Stand up on the platform in the Forum, and proclaim that Domitian is deposed.”
“You are very right,” snarled Cinna. “Right as usual! but what is to happen if the possibility becomes a fact? When flight has dispersed us to all the four winds...?”
“Then, my friend, the essential point is to agree on a spot, where we may all quietly meet again. Let that spot be Rodumna, the native town of Afranius. It is in every respect favorable--at only a short distance from Lugdunensis, and yet so small as to be out of the turmoil of the world. There will we meet, rouse the legions to our support, and march upon Rome!”
“Good, good!” cried Cornelius Cinna.
“Rodumna!” echoed the rest.
Nerva rose.
“One word!” implored Caius Aurelius.
Nerva, who had already grasped their host’s hand in leave-taking, turned enquiringly to the young man.
“Worthy friends,” the Batavian went on. “Allow me to say, that down at Ostia lies my trireme. The captain and the crew are all men, whom we may blindly trust. If anything should occur to drive us hence, we could not do better than meet on board my bark and reach Gallia by sea.”
“That is a good idea,” said Nerva. “But still one question arises. Does any one in Rome know of the existence of this trireme?”
“Hardly a soul. The high-priest’s family, it is true, were on board with me, when I came from Baiae. But here, in Rome, where there is so much to distract the attention, so trivial a circumstance would scarcely dwell in their minds.”
“But the slaves!” cried Cinna. “If you are suspected at the palace, they have been cross-examined ere now....”
“I do not honestly believe, that I have been considered worthy of so much attention at the palace.”
“And even if it were so,” Nerva added, “there is a way of escape. To-morrow morning, spread a report among your friends and acquaintances, that your vessel is on the point of starting to return to Trajectum. Go to Ostia yourself, and let her set sail with all ceremony; then, at night, when she is well out at sea, order the captain, instead of steering southwards, to make a detour to the left and sail past the islands of Pontia and back to Antium, as if he had come direct from Messana. There he may wait till we need him. By the Appian Way and Aricia and Lanuvium, it is not more than twice the distance to Antium, that it is to Ostia. Give your captain the name of Rodumna as a password; whoever goes on board with that token is to be received unquestioned. What do you think of my plan?”
“Nothing could be better arranged, it seems to me,” exclaimed Cinna. “In this way we need neither fit out a vessel for ourselves, nor yet travel by land. The one would excite suspicion, and the other would be both dangerous and expensive. So let it stand: if the situation should seem in any way perilous, we meet on board the trireme in the harbor of Antium.”
The conspirators rose and slowly dispersed.
FOOTNOTES:
GALLIA LUGDUNENSIS. Lugdunian Gaul (Gallia Lugdunensis, so called from the principal city Lugdunum, now Lyons) extended from the Seine (Sequana) to the Garonne (Garumna) and westward to the Atlantic Ocean. On the south, it was separated from the Mediterranean by Narbonensian Gaul.
BEQUEATHED TO HIM A SMALL LEGACY. Legacies bequeathed by childless persons to those not connected by ties of blood, played a very important part in the society under the emperors. Legacy-hunting thrived greatly in consequence of its frequent occurrence.
IN THE MIDST OF A VERY HUMBLE QUARTER. The right bank of the Tiber, in the (14) district, which bore the name “Trans Tiberim,” was inhabited exclusively by tradesfolk, sailors, etc.
TITUS. The brother and predecessor of Domitian.
THE FLAVII had come into possession of the government with Vespasian, the father of Titus and Domitian. The latter’s full name was: Titus Flavius Domitianus Augustus.
JUNIUS RUSTICUS. See Suet. Dom. 10; Dio Cass. LXVII. 13.
CAEPIO. Suet. Dom. 9, mentions a man of this name.
CAESAR WAS TO INHERIT HIS FORTUNE. See Suet. Dom. 12: “Estates to which the emperor had no claim were seized, if only some one could be found to declare he had heard the dead man, during his life-time, say that the Caesar was to inherit his property.”
THE DAUGHTERS OF OUR NOBLEST FAMILIES ARE STOLEN. That this was really to be expected, is proved by the incredible description Dio Cassius gives us of Nero’s conduct, (LXII, 15.)
THE SUSPICIOUS TYRANT WHO HAS THE WALLS OF HIS SLEEPING-ROOM LINED WITH MIRRORS. See Suet, Dom. 14.
THERE ARE TROOPS ENOUGH IN GALLIA LUGDUNENSIS. True, nothing is expressly stated concerning this fact in the reign of Domitian; but as it was the case under Nero, this extremely probable opposition certainly scarcely involves a license. The liberty I take in the treatment of the conspiracy itself, is much greater. Strictly speaking, it was only a revolution in the palace. Considerations more important to the novelist than strict historical accuracy, compel me here to deviate from the accounts of Suetonius and Dio Cassius.
RODUMNA on the Liger, (now the Loire). Called at the present day Roanne.
ISLANDS OF PONTIA. Now Isole di Ponza, opposite the Gulf of Gaeta.
