its immodesty. We may be glad that we are not treated to a gladiatorial
combat, as has sometimes been the case in this same house.
After these entertainments have been concluded, an enormous dish is set
before us, and in it a great boar. On his tusks hang two baskets, one
filled with dates, the other with almonds. About him are little pigs
made of sweetmeats. They are presents which we are to carry away with
us; for it is always the custom for the men at a banquet to carry some
part of it home to those women of their families who have not been
present. To our great astonishment, when the servant makes a hole in the
side of this boar, as though to carve it, there fly out a number of
blackbirds, which continue to flutter about the room until they are
again captured.
While we are beguiling our time with wine and conversing with the ladies
present, a large and entire hog is brought upon the table. Whereupon our
host, having examined the animal closely, expresses it as his belief
that it has not been disembowelled by the cook. That officer being sent
for, he confesses that in his haste that part of the preparation had
truly been forgotten. He is ordered to be flogged, and the executioners
prepare to carry out the command upon the spot in the presence of us
all; but mercy is implored for him by the women, and his master contents
himself by ordering him to finish his work there upon the table. At
this, the cook takes a knife and cuts open the hog's belly, and there
immediately tumble out a heap of delicious sausages of various kinds and
sizes. This done, all the slaves cheer their master, and a present of
silver is made to the cook.
While we are discussing this and the various other interesting episodes
of the feast, we are startled by the ceiling giving a great crack, and,
as we gaze up in considerable alarm, the main beam opens in the middle.
A large aperture appears, from which descends a great disk and upon it
are hung many beautiful presents for the guests, also fruits of various
kinds which when touched throw out a delicious liquid perfume.
Thus, eating and conversing and viewing these wonders and the various
performances of the entertainers, the feast begun in the early evening
has endured until the night has grown late. Wine has been flowing
without stint, and its effect is to be seen among the company. The
ladies present have indulged with almost as great freedom as the men.
Tongues have become loosened and stories are told and allusions made
which might bring the blush to some cheeks, were they not already
flushed with wine. The feast is likely to end in a revel. Men take the
wreaths of flowers from the heads of the women and dip them in the wine,
which they then drink as a mark of gallantry. There is no longer need
for the actors and female entertainers; the male guests play the
buffoon, and matrons, throwing aside their robes, dance, though possibly
with less grace, certainly with no more modesty than did the
professional women who had been hired for that purpose.
Pranks are
played upon those who have fallen into an intoxicated stupor. Some are
roaring bacchic songs, some are loudly arguing concerning politics,
giving vent to opinions for which they may have to give an account to
the emperor on another day; some are brawling, while others are
conversing with the women in such unrestrained fashion as leaves no room
for wonder at the numerous matrimonial readjustments which are
characteristic of these times.
[Illustration 4:
_A ROMAN BANQUET
After the painting by Albert Baur
Around the tables, in place of chairs, are couches with an
abundance of soft pillow. These couches are placed on three sides of
the table; for it was the custom of the Romans to recline at their
meals. When this custom was first introduced from Asia, the
women did not think that it comported with their modesty to adopt
this new style, and until the end of the Republic they retained the
old habit of sitting at table.... After these entertainments have
been concluded, an enormous disk is set, and in it a great boar.
On his tusks, hang two baskets, one filled with dates, the other with
almonds. About him are little pigs made of sweetmeats; they are
presents to be carried away; it is the custom for men at a banquet
to carry some part of it to those women of their families who have
not been present..... when the servant makes a hole in the side
of this boar, as though to carve it, out fly a number of blackbirds,
which continue to flutter about the room until recaptured._]
These are some of the features of such banquets as those to which the
women of Poppæa's time were accustomed. We have drawn our description
principally from Petronius's inimitable account. Though in Trimalchio's
Feast there was, so far as it appears, no other woman besides his wife,
yet we know from other sources that the presence of women at such
entertainments was common. There is no evidence to the effect that they
were in the habit of leaving the _triclinium_ before the unrestrained
indulgence in wine had made their presence there entirely inconsistent
with any ideas of strict propriety; indeed, if the poets are to be
credited, it often happened that love making of an ardent nature was
carried on in the confusion which marked the termination of these
feasts.
Poppæa had married an imperial actor. Even at so late a period as the
days of Julius Cæsar, a citizen lost his civic rights by appearing on
the stage; but now the whole Roman Empire bent in fulsome adulation
before a crazy ruler who strained a wretched voice to sing _Canace in
Labor_. The Forum had become silent; the temples were frequented, but
with little faith or sincerity on the part of the worshippers. The
public life of Rome centred in the theatre and the circus. "After the
market place has been designed," says Vitruvius, "a very healthy spot
must be chosen for the theatre, where the people can witness the dramas
on the feast days of the immortal gods." In the days of Nero, the Roman
people did not wait for a religious motive in order that they might
indulge in shows which were certainly morally unhealthy, however
salubrious may have been the site of the theatre. The most popular and
best remunerated public servants were actors and actresses, dancing
women and female musicians. Mommsen, commenting on the condition of
theatrical art at an earlier time than that of Nero, says: "There was
hardly any more lucrative trade in Rome than that of the actor and the
dancing girl of the first rank. The princely estate of the tragic actor
Æsopus amounted to two hundred thousand pounds sterling; his still more
celebrated contemporary Roscius estimated his annual income at six
thousand pounds, and Dionysia the dancer estimated hers at two thousand
pounds." Later he adds, as indicating what was popular at the time: "It
was nothing unusual for the Roman dancing girls to throw off at the
finale the upper robe and to give a dance in undress for the benefit of
the public."
There is in existence an epitaph of a girl named Licinia Eucharis, who
is reputed to have been the first female to appear on the public Greek
stage in Rome. She died at the age of fourteen; but, notwithstanding her
tender years, she was "well instructed and taught in all arts by the
Muses themselves."
The theatrical displays of the Romans had always been characterized by
vulgarity and coarseness. The ancient Atellan farces were as full of
obscenity as were the fescennine songs of broad allusions. This being
so, even in the days when the Roman people deified chastity, it
naturally follows that unbounded license must have prevailed in the
degenerate days of the Empire. The surfeited taste of the licentious
populace was gratified by hordes of women as well as men, who strove to
give new piquancy to their exhibitions by the shamelessness of their
performances.
There is some evidence, however, to show that now and again there was an
actress who endeavored to "elevate the stage." Horace reports that when
Arbuscula was hissed by the people, though doubtless she was giving a
good performance, she had the courage to retort: "It is enough for me
that the knight Mæcenas applauds"; but such a spirit was unusual, and
the Roman theatre continued to deteriorate. As is always the case in
such matters, the demand created the supply; but the supply also renewed
and strengthened the taste from which sprung the demand.
Watching some
gladiators who had been condemned to mortal combat, a Roman argued with
Seneca that they were criminals and deserved their fate.
"Yes," answered
the philosopher; "but what have you done that you should be condemned to
witness such an exhibition?"
The moralist's stricture on their amusements was not concurred in by the
great mass of his female compatriots. Patrician and plebeian, rich and
poor, the women of Rome craved the realistic scenes of the theatre and
the terrible excitements of the circus with as much avidity as did the
men. Augustus had ordered that women should not be present at the
exhibitions of wrestlers, and that they should only be allowed to
witness gladiatorial combats from the upper and remote part of the
theatre; but in the days of Nero, the sex was placed under no such
restrictions. Augustus also severely punished an actor who allowed a
married woman, dressed as a boy, to wait upon him at table; but
afterward it became common for patrician ladies to be the paramours of
gladiators and pantomimists, with no fear of punishment save the
immortal lashings of the poetic satirists. These lashings, it is
evident, had no deterrent effect; despite the sarcasms of Juvenal, the
Ælias and Hispullas continued to be enamored of tragic actors. Hippia,
though the wife of a Senator, accompanies a gladiator to Alexandria. She
dines among the seamen, walks the deck in a rolling sea, and delights to
take a hand at the ropes. What was the attribute that captivated her?
Sergius was not handsome; "but then, he was a swordsman.
The sword made
its wielder as beautiful as Hyacinthus. It was this she preferred to her
children, her native land, and her husband. It is the steel of which
women are enamored. This same Sergius, if he were discharged from the
arena, would be no better than her husband in her eyes."
In the times of the most dissolute emperors, the people of Rome lived
chiefly to attend the theatre and the circus; after bread, all they
asked for was shows. There were theatres in Rome capable of seating
eighty thousand persons. We may imagine such a concourse waiting while
Nero dines in their presence in the imperial box, and allays their
impatience by shouting: "One more sup, and then I will present you with
something that will make your ears tingle." But it is likely that the
Roman ladies of noble birth were wont to hear the announcement of Nero's
performances with little anticipatory pleasure. They dared not absent
themselves, for there were spies who would report to the emperor their
failure to attend; and, being present, they were compelled to submit to
the infliction of the whole of the wretched exhibition; for on such
occasions the doors were absolutely closed against all egress. So
thoroughly was this rule carried out that there are reports of infants
having been born in the theatre while Nero was displaying his skill as
an actor. More than that, it was never known when or under what
circumstances the lightning of his malicious displeasure would fall upon
some unlucky head. Once, when he was playing and singing in the theatre,
he observed a married lady dressed in the shade of purple which he had
prohibited. He pointed her out to his officers, and she was not only
stripped of her raiment, but her property was also practically
confiscated by means of fines.
Yet doubtless the fact that they were afforded the strange privilege of
witnessing the acting of an emperor did serve to arouse the interest of
the blasé Roman populace. Legitimate histrionic art had become for them
tiresome, as it always does where luxury and pampered idleness tend to
blunt the artistic conscience. Nothing less than libidinous vaudeville,
in which matrons of noble birth were by bribes or threats induced to
take part, could create the least sensation. Realistic performances were
more popular still. The actors in these were found in the dungeons,
therefore they were not costly and required little training. A much
truer idea of agony is obtained by watching a man really suffer than by
seeing it mimicked by an actor; and if the piece to be staged includes a
death, why not provide the audience with the opportunity of seeing a
criminal die in the manner designated? These were the scenes to which
the women of Rome grew accustomed, with the result that, for the
evil-disposed, bloodshed was no more than a pastime, while for the
better-natured it at least enabled them to look upon their own death
with diminished terror. But the favorite exhibition with the Roman
populace was the sanguinary gladiatorial encounter. Ten thousand men
were constantly kept and trained, that the people might witness their
combats to the death with each other or with ferocious animals. These
combats were to be seen in greater perfection at a later day than that
of Poppæa, in the Colosseum--the most stupendous show place ever erected
by man, and in which was exemplified the most enormous wickedness that
has disgraced the name of humanity. In the central space was "the sand,"
the arena, often red and soaked like a battlefield with human blood.
Around this was a gilded fence to prevent the animals or the more
desperate men from rushing with deadly hate upon the unfeeling audience.
Behind that stood the marble _podium_, on which were placed the imperial
seats and those of the nobility. Then came, tier above tier, the seats
of the commoner people, who ofttimes made the vast edifice resound with
their roar--more dreadful than that of the forest king:
"To the lions!"
In the front seats and behind them sat women, beautiful of face but
hardened in disposition, who, when a man was mortally wounded, cried:
"_hoc habet_ [he has it!]" with an excitement as unsympathetic as that
which delighted their male companions; and who, when an unfortunate
combatant lowered his arms in token of defeat, were as likely to point
their thumbs downward, in sign that the unfortunate man was forthwith to
be despatched, as to raise them in token of mercy.
So long as Petronius, the man of taste, was the
"arbiter" of Nero's
amusements, the people of Rome were not called upon to witness the most
outrageous examples of imperial depravity. Yet it must be confessed
that, if the women described in the _Satyrikon_ are to be accepted as
being typical of the majority of the Roman ladies, their morals could
not suffer much by the influence even of a Nero.
Tigellinus incited the
emperor to greater lengths of profligacy than he otherwise would have
reached. Tacitus describes the feast given by Tigellinus, for which "he
built, in the lake of Agrippa, a raft which supported the banquet, which
was moved to and fro by other vessels drawing it after them. He had
procured fowl and venison from remote regions, and fish from far-off
seas. Upon the margin of the lake were erected brothels, filled with
ladies of distinction, and over against them other women whose
profession was apparent by the scantiness of their attire. As soon as
darkness came on, the surrounding dwellings echoed with the music, and
in the groves brilliant lights revealed everything that was obscene and
improper."
During the reign of the dissolute emperors, the virtue of women was but
little respected. Nero denied that any person was sincerely chaste. If a
woman of any social prominence in those days desired to retain her
honor, her beauty was her greatest misfortune. No ties or obligations,
not even the sanctity of the Vestals, were respected by the lustful
tyrants. If a man rejoiced in a beautiful and modest wife, she might
any day be requested to appear at the palace; and the husband, if he
would preserve his life, was compelled to bear the dishonor in silence.
Occasionally, however, there was a woman who showed more spirit;
Mallonia publicly upbraided Tiberius for his wickedness, and then went
home and killed herself. But the condition of morals was such that there
were a great many wives and husbands who did not regard such tyranny
with any special degree of horror. Piso, who was put to death for his
conspiracy against Nero, had robbed his friend Domitius Silius of his
wife, who was, the historian informs us, a depraved woman and void of
every recommendation but personal beauty; but "both concurred, her
husband by his passiveness, she by her wantonness, to blazon the infamy
of Piso."
Among these characters there was but little of that chaste love which
glorifies the marriage bond. Poppæa could have had no regard for the
despicable Nero; her sole concern was that she might be empress, and
maintain herself in that exalted position. The emperor prized nothing in
his wife except her incomparable beauty; and he placed her beside
himself on the throne only because it was necessary that Cæsar should
have legitimate heirs.
As to the character of Poppæa, Josephus credits her with being very
religious, and Tacitus says that she was much given to consulting with
soothsayers and eastern charlatans. Yet it may have been that,
notwithstanding her wild profligacy and shameless ambition, Poppæa felt
the vacuity of the glittering show by which she was surrounded, and that
at times a restless conscience compelled her to grope among the tangled
mysteries of the spiritual life. At the same time, it has been
suspected--and the suspicion is not totally without warrant--that the
Roman Jews, in their bitter animosity against the Christians, were
aided by the empress in instigating that persecution which rendered the
reign of Nero so superlatively infamous.
It was rare for an imperial consort to come to other than a violent end;
and Poppæa was no exception to the rule. Her death was the act, though
unpremeditated, of her husband. One day, she found fault with him for
returning later than she desired from a chariot drive.
Angered by her
upbraidings and brutal by nature, he kicked her, and, being in a
condition of pregnancy at the time, she shortly afterward died of the
blow. It is said that her body was not consumed by fire, as was the
custom of the Romans, but embalmed in Jewish fashion and placed in the
tomb of the Julian family. She was, however, given a splendid funeral;
and there is no stronger witness to the terrible moral apathy which
characterized the times than the fact that her murderous husband
delivered on the occasion a laudatory oration. From the rostrum, he
magnified "her beauty and her lot, in having been the mother of an
infant enrolled among the gods." There being nothing else in her
character to extol, he treated her gifts of fortune as having been so
many virtues. It is impossible to doubt that the ancient historian is
correct when he asserts that though the people were obliged to put on an
appearance of mourning, they could but rejoice at the death of this
woman, when they remembered her lewdness and her cruelty; and although,
as Pliny tells us, all Arabia did not produce in a whole year as many
spices as were consumed at the funeral of Poppæa, there was no incense,
material or eulogistic, by which it was possible to overcome the evil
odor of her life.
The reign of Nero was typical of other ages that were to follow. The
Roman people were to drink still deeper of the dregs of servility, and
they were to become yet more morally apathetic, before they would awaken
to better things. Poppæa was simply a woman of her time, and she was
followed by generations of women, both of high and low degree, who were
like-minded with herself. Imperial prostitutes and plebeian courtesans
run riot through all the long drawn out decadence of the Roman Empire;
but, although a veritable picture of the Roman woman could not be given
without the inclusion of such types as those delineated in this and the
preceding chapter, we will at least spare ourselves and the reader
further recital of vice and crime by confining the exemplification to
this one period. We have not refrained from including the worst features
and employing the darkest colors that history warrants, in order that,
to use the expression of Tacitus, we may not have to repeat instances of
similar extravagance.
Although Nero was a monster of iniquity, he was not denied the
disinterested love of women. That strange, strong passion which holds
woman's heart to the most unworthy objects and feeds itself with
idealizations made the name of Nero dear to some when it was execrated
by all the world besides. And when at last he was driven from the
throne, and, uttering the words: "I yet live, to my shame and disgrace,"
drove the suicidal dagger through his throat, there were women who
tenderly cared for that body which sycophantic courtiers extolled while
it lived and neglected when it was dead and powerless.
His nurses Ecloge
and Alexandra, who had cared for him when he was an innocent boy, and
that Acte who had been his first love and who had never entirely lost
her influence over him, laid his ashes in the tomb of his fathers, and
grieved over a death which gave to the world at large great cause for
rejoicing.
XI
GOOD WOMEN OF NERO'S REIGN
The immoralities which characterized the reigns of some of the first
emperors must be considered as abnormal outbreaks rather than as
permanent conditions. The element of corruption is always present in the
social body. As a rule, it reveals itself only to those who look for it
in the slums and prisons and criminal haunts, but at times and under
certain conditions it breaks out with excessive virulence, and, to adopt
a Biblical figure, there seems to be no soundness in the whole body.
Such conditions were present during the period we have been studying.
Many circumstances combined to bring all the corruption and immorality
which are usually veiled or disguised into prominent view and to make
them fashionable. The accidents of birth placed upon the imperial throne
men who were morally insane; consequently, the evil-disposed found
themselves in a paradise of crime, while the ambitious, the covetous,
and the cowardly were enabled to gain their ends and preserve their
safety only by becoming caterers to and companions in their masters'
lusts.
It is very easy, however, for a student of history to encourage an
exaggerated idea of Roman depravity, even as it was in the days of
Messalina and Poppsea. Whence do we obtain our picture of the Rome of
those times? Partly from historians; but very largely from such writers
as Juvenal, Petronius, and Apuleius. The historians confined their
accounts to the prominent people of their times, and it not unfrequently
happened that the most prominent and successful were the least