_ NERO played and sang, in honor of the "Lady of Cyprus," ~ hymn
the verses and music of which were composed by himself. That
day he was in voice, and felt that his music really captivated those
present. That feeling added such power to the sounds produced
and roused his own soul so much that he seemed inspired. At last
he grew pale from genuine emotion. This was surely the first time
that he had no desire to hear praises from others. He sat for a time
with his hands on the cithara and with bowed head; then, rising
suddenly, he said, --
"I am tired and need air, Meanwhile ye will tune the citharae."
He covered his throat then with a silk kerchief.
"Ye will go with me," said he, turning to Petronius and Vinicius,
who were sitting in a corner of the hall. "Give me thy ann,
Vinicius, for strength fails me; Petronius will talk to me of music."
They went out on the terrace, which was paved with alabaster and
sprinkled with saffron.
"Here one can breathe more freely," said Nero. "My soul is moved
and sad, though I see that with what I have sung to thee on trial
just now I may appear in public, and my triumph will be such as
no Roman has ever achieved."
"Thou mayst appear here, in Rome, in Aehaea. I admire thee with
my whole heart and mind, divinity," answered Petronius.
"I know. Thou art too slothful to force thyself to flattery, and thou
art as sincere as Tullius Senecio, but thou hast more knowledge
than he. Tell me, what is thy judgment on music?"
"When I listen to poetry, when I look at a quadriga directed by thee
in the Circus, when I look at a beautiful statue, temple, or picture, I
feel that I comprehend perfectly what I see, that my enthusiasm
takes in all that these can give. But when I listen to music,
especially thy music, new delights and beauties open before me
every instant. I pursue them, I try to seize them; but before I can
take them to myself, new and newer ones flow in, just like waves
of the sea, which roll on from infinity. Hence I tell thee that music
is like the sea. We stand on one shore and gaze at remoteness, but
we cannot see the other shore."
"Ah, what deep knowledge thou hast!" said Nero; and they walked
on for a moment, only the slight sound of the saffron leaves under
their feet being heard.
"Thou hast expressed my idea," said Nero at last; "hence I say
now, as ever, in all Rome thou art the only man able to understand
me. Thus it is, my judgment of music is the same as thine. When I
play and sing, I see things which I did not know as existing in my
dominions or in the world. I am Caesar, and the world is mine. I
can do everything. But music opens new kingdoms to me, new
mountains, new seas, new delights unknown before. Most
frequently I cannot name them or grasp them; I only feel them. I
feel the gods, I see Olympus. Some kind of breeze from beyond the
earth blows in on me; I behold, as in a mist, certain immeasurable
greatnesses, but calm and bright as sunshine. The whole Spheres
plays around me; and I declare to thee" (here Nero's voice quivered
with genuine wonder) "that I, Caesar and god, feel at such times as
diminutive as dust. Wilt thou believe this?"
"I will. Only great artists have power to feel small in the presence
of art."
"This is a night of sincerity; hence I open my soul to thee as to a
friend, and I will say more: dost thou consider that I am blind or
deprived of reason? Dost thou think that I am ignorant of this, that
people in Rome write insults on the walls against me, call me a
matricide, a wife-murderer, hold me a monster and a tyrant,
because Tigellinus obtained a few sentences of death against my
enemies? Yes, my dear, they hold me a monster, and I know it.
They have talked cruelty on me to that degree that at times I put
the question to myself, 'Am I not cruel?' But they do not
understand this, that a man's deeds may be cruel at times while he
himself is not cruel. Ah, no one will believe, and perhaps even
thou, my dear, wilt not believe, that at moments when music
caresses my soul I feel as kind as a child in the cradle. I swear by
those stars which shine above us, that I speak the pure truth to
thee. People do not know how much goodness lies in this heart,
and what treasures I see in it when music opens the door to them."
Petronius, who had not the least doubt that Nero was speaking
sincerely at that moment, and that music might bring out various
more noble inclinations of his soul, which were overwhelmed by
mountains of egotism, profli-. gacy, and crime, said, -- "Men
should know thee as nearly as I do; Rome has never been able to
appreciate thee."
Caesar leaned more heavily on Vinicius's arm, as if he were
bending under the weight of injustice, and answered,
"Tigellinus has told me that in the Senate they whisper into one
another's ears that Diodorus and Terpnos play on the cithara better
than I. They refuse me even that! But tell me, thou who art truthful
always, do they play better, or as well?"
"By no means. Thy touch is finer, and has greater power. In thee
the artist is evident, in them the expert. The man who hears their
music first understands better what thou art."
"If that be true, let them live. They will never imagine what a
service thou hast rendered them in this moment. For that matter, if
1 had condemned those two, I should have had to take others in
place of them."
"And people would say, besides, that out of love for music thou
destroyest music in thy dominions. Never kill art for art's sake, O
divinity."
"How different thou art from Tigellinus!" answered Nero. "But
seest thou, I am an artist in everything; and since music opens for
me spaces the existence of which I had not divined, regions which
I do not possess, delight and happiness which I do not know, I
cannot live a common life. Music tells me that the uncommon
exists, so I seek it with all the power of dominion which the gods
have placed in my hands. At times it seems to me that to rcach
those Olympian worlds I must do something which no man has
done hitherto, -- I must surpass the stature of man in good or evil. I
know that people declare me mad. But I am not mad, I am only
seeking. And if I am going mad, it is out of disgust and impatience
that I cannot find. I am seeking! Dost understand me? And
therefore I wish to be greater than man, for only in that way can I
be the greatest as an artist."
Here he lowered his voice so that Vinicius could not hear him,
and, putting his mouth to the ear of Petronius, he whispered, --
"Dost know that I condemned my mother and wife to death mainly
because I wished to lay at the gate of an unknown world the
greatest sacrifice that man could put there? I thought that
afterward something would happen, that doors would be opened
beyond which I should see something unknown. Let it be
wonderful or awful, surpassing human conception, if only great
and uncommon. But that sacrifice was not sufficient. To open the
empyrean doors it is evident that something greater is needed, and
let it be given as the Fates desire."
"What dost thou intend to do?"
"Thou shalt see sooner than thou thinkest. Meanwhile be assured
that there are two Neros, -- one such as people know, the other an
artist, whom thou alone knowest, and if he slays as does death, or
is in frenzy like Bacchus, it is only because the flatness and misery
of common life stifle him; and I should like to destroy them,
though I had to use fire or iron. Oh, how flat this world will be
when I am gone from it! No man has suspected yet, not thou even,
what an artist I am. But precisely because of this I suffer, and
sincerely do I tell thee that the soul in me is as gloomy as those
cypresses which stand dark there in front of us. It is grievous for a
man to bear at once the weight of supreme power and the highest
talents."
"I sympathize with thee, O Caesar; and with me earth and sea, not
counting Vinicius, who deifies thee in his soul."
"He, too, has always been dear to me," said Caesar, "though he
serves Mars, not the Muses."
"He serves Aphrodite first of all," answered Petronius. And
suddenly he determined to settle the affair of his nephew at a blow,
and at the same time to eliminate every danger which might
threaten him. "He is in love, as was Troilus with Cressida. Permit
him, lord, to visit Rome, for he is dying on my hands. Dost thou
know that that Lygian hostage whom thou gayest him has been
found, and Vinicius, when leaving for Annum, left her in care of a
certain Linus? I did not mention this to thee, for thou wert
composing thy hymn, and that was more important than all
besides. Vinicius wanted her as a mistress; but when she turned
out to be as virtuous as Lucretia, he fell in love with her virtue, and
now his desire is to marry her. She is a king's daughter, hence she
will cause him no detriment; but he is a real soldier: he sighs and
withers and groans, but he is waiting for the permission of his
Imperator."
"The Imperator does not choose wives for his soldiers. What good
is my permission to Vinicius?"
"I have told thee, O lord, that he deifies thee."
"All the more may he be certain of permission. That is a comely
maiden, but too narrow in the hips. The Augusta Poppaea has
complained to me that she enchanted our child in the gardens of
the Palatine."
"But I told Tigellinus that the gods are not subject to evil charms.
Thou rememberest, divinity, his confusion and thy exclamation,
'Habet!'"
"I remember."
Here he turned to Vinicius, -- "Dost thou love her, as Petronius
says?" "I love her, lord," replied Vinicius.
"Then I command thee to set out for Rome to-morrow, and marry
her. Appear not again before my eyes without the marriage ring."
"Thanks to thee, lord, from my heart and soul."
"Oh, how pleasant it is to make people happy!" said Nero. "Would
that I might do nothing else all my life!"
"Grant us one favor more, O divinity," said Petronius: "declare thy
will in this matter before the Augusta. Vinicius would never
venture to wed a woman displeasing to the Augusta; thou wilt
dissipate her prejudice, O lord, with a word, by declaring that thou
hast commanded this marriage."
"I am willing," said Caesar. "I could refuse nothing to thee or
Vinicius."
He turned toward the villa, and they followed. Their hearts were
filled with delight over the victory; and Vinicius had to use
self-restraint to avoid throwing himself on the neck of Petronius,
for it seemed now that all dangers and obstacles were removed.
In the atrium of the villa young Nerva and Tullius Senecio were
entertaining the Augusta with conversation. Terpuos and Diodorus
were tuning citharae.
Nero entered, sat in an armchair inlaid with tortoise-shell,
whispered something in the ear of a Greek slave near his side, and
waited.
The page returned soon with a golden casket. Nero opened it and
took out a necklace of great opals.
"These are jewels worthy of this evening," said he.
"The light of Aurora is playing in them," answered Poppaea,
convinced that the necklace was for her.
Caesar, now raising, now lowering the rosy stones, said at last, --
"Vinicius, thou wilt give, from me, this necklace to her whom I
command thee to marry, the youthful daughter of the Lygian king."
Poppan's glance, filled with anger and sudden amazement, passed
from Caesar to Vinicius. At last it rested on Petronius. But he,
leaning carelessly over the arm of the chair, passed his hand along
the back of the harp as if to fix its form firmly in his mind.
Vinicius gave thanks for the gift, approached Petronius, and asked,
-- "How shall I thank thee for what thou hast done this day for
me?" "Sacrifice a pair of swans to Euterpe," replied Petronius,
"praise Caesar's songs, and laugh at omens. Henceforth the roaring
of lions will not disturb thy sleep, I trust, nor that of thy Lygian
lily."
"No," said Vinicius; "now I am perfectly at rest."
"May Fortune favor thee! But be careful, for Caesar is taking his
lute again. Hold thy breath, listen, and shed tears."
In fact Casar had taken the lute and raised his eyes. In the hail
conversation had stopped, and people were as still as if petrified.
Terpnos and Diodorus, who had to accompany Caesar, were on the
alert, looking now at each other and now at his lips, waiting for the
first tones of the song.
Just then a movement and noise began in the entrance; and after a
moment Caesar's freedman, Phaon, appeared from beyond the
curtain. Close behind him was the consul Lecanius.
Nero frowned.
"Pardon, divine Imperator," said Phaon, with panting voice, "there
is a conflagration in Rome! The greater part of the city is in
flames!"
At this news all sprang from their seats.
"O gods! I shall see a burning city and finish the Troyad," said
Nero, setting aside his lute.
Then he turned to the consul, -- "If I go at once, shall I see the
fire?"
"Lord," answered Lecanius, as pale as a wall, "the whole city is
one sea of flame; smoke is suffocating the inhabitants, and people
faint, or cast themselves into the fire from delirium. Rome is
perishing, lord."
A moment of silence followed, which was broken by the cry of
Vinicius, -- "Vce misero mihi!"
And the young man, casting his toga aside, rushed forth in his
tunic. Nero raised his hands and exclaimed, -- "Woe to thee, sacred
city of Priam!" _