  While Paul in chains is writing to Christian churches letters characterized at once by the sublimest reaches of spiritual vision and by the most painstaking condescension to details of practical precept, Simon the sorcerer, with Felix and Drusilla, plots the apostle's death. Simon proceeds by indirection, having it in mind to bring about the death of Felix also. This he accomplishes, with the collusion and complicity of Drusilla. But first, at Drusilla's instance, he procures for her in company with her husband an audience with Nero, of which PoppÆa, the emperor's favorite, is secretly an observer. PoppÆa notices the impression made on her sovereign by Drusilla, and she is openly present at a subsequent hearing granted by Nero to the beautiful Jewess, during which the latter accuses Paul, together with other crimes, of instigating the murder by poison of Felix. Nero throughout displays, with much license, his reckless and frivolous character. DRUSILLA AND NERO. That Phrygian slave did not companionless His way ColossÆ-ward pursue; he went By Tychicus accompanied, who bore Another letter written from the lips Of Paul to the Colossian church at large. This gloried and exulted in sublime Prophetic visions of far future things— Things future far and other quite than these. Paul's hand was manacled, but not his soul; That, given the freedom of the universe, Ranged as at will on wing omnipotent Through all the heights and depths of space and time, And saw unutterable things, which he Seeking to lade upon expression made The very pillars of expression bend And sway and totter, like to sink, beneath The burden insupportable they bore. Great soul and free, free in a body bound, So soaring those empyreal altitudes On a strong-breasted gale of power divine Inspiring and enabling him, who took Undazzled, like an eagle in full gaze Upon the sun, insufferably bright Glimpses of heavenly glory, he yet deigned— Nay, he ascended but to condescend The mightier by his lofty lowliness, From exaltation such beheld come down!— Deigned to the level of the mean degree Of men that needed to be counselled thus: "Lie not one to another, seeing ye Have put off the old man that late ye were, Him with his deeds, and the new man put on, The man made new through knowledge to become Once more the image, long so far defaced, Of that God who at first created him. Put ye on, therefore, as elect of God To be His holy and belovÉd, all Sweet meltingness of heart, kindness and love, A lowly mind most meek, long-suffering, Forbearing one another, and should ever, But that be far! some man among you have As Christ forgave you once, forgive so ye; And over all these vestments of the soul, Completing them and binding them secure, Put ye on love, girdle of perfectness. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts. "Ye wives, to your own husbands subject be, So yielding as befits you in the Lord. Ye husbands, love your wives and nourish not Against them any bitterness of heart. Children, obey your parents in all things, For this well-pleasing is unto the Lord. Fathers, good heed give ye not to provoke Your children unto wrath, lest they lose heart. Servants, your masters in the flesh obey, Not with eye-service as men-pleasers, this, But single-heartedly as fearing God. And whatsoever be the thing ye do, Heartily do it, as if doing all For the Lord Christ in heaven and not for men; Knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive Guerdon of that inheritance reserved For your true bond of service is to Christ. Due recompense receive; and with the Lord Is no respect of person or degree. Ye masters, to your servants what is just And equal render; for a Master ye, Ye also, have who watcheth from the heaven." While Paul with tongue or pen such things discoursed, Things heavenly and things earthly intermixed (Yet so as earthly things to raise to heaven, Like the sea lifted skyward by the moon), Simon the sorcerer, with the guilty pair, His master and his mistress, otherwise Was busy, plotting the apostle's death. Plot within plot there was; the sorcerer sought The death of Felix too, for hate of him. To compass this, he fed Drusilla's mind With bitter poison and with poison sweet; The bitter, of innuendo to inflame Her jealous rancor more against her spouse; The sweet, of flattery ever interfused In casual hint dropped, whisper by the way, No recognition sought, still less reply, But inly working to inebriate Her pride of beauty and her sense of power, Till she should dare whatever need be dared Of danger or of crime to clear her way To empire hoped over the emperor. At length the double venom took effect Such on Drusilla's fierce aspiring mind, That Simon ventured on these words to her: "Ill sleeper is thine husband, O my liege! I overhear him oft in troubled dream Belching forth broken voices of unrest. He sleeps like Ætna or Vesuvius, Say like Enceladus with Ætna piled— Thou knowest their fable of that giant old. I hope he never will by evil chance Work his wife harm unmeant in his nightmares! Such weight, such strength, are monstrous in such throes!" Drusilla was as deep as Simon; she Well enough guessed whither he tended so. She made her face an utter vacancy, And listened all as if she listened not, With his approaches neither shunned nor met: "At least, madam, thine own rest needs must be Disturbed: it would be easy to compose Thine husband to a sounder sleep." He paused, And she made answer quite as from the point, But Simon did not miss the relevance: "Simon, my lord is still postponed at court, Has had no hearing of the emperor: Reason enough that he should restless be. Procure he have his audience soon, and then— Simon, what thinkest thou? Would it not be well That I attend him when he pleads his cause? Thou knowest I have some gift of eloquence, The woman's, and thy master is but man, And somewhat slow of speech—if thick of wit Too, that becomes me not to say to thee. I feel that I might help our common cause By being in presence with the emperor Myself, as loyal sponsor for my spouse." "Excellent," Simon said; "and no doubt I, Permitted to make proffer such as this From queen Drusilla, shall with ease contrive An early audience with his majesty." But neither token gave with lip or eye. Simon bethought him of the beautiful Wanton, PoppÆa, with the emperor Precariously omnipotent by her charm. To her, in manner suiting such as he, He wormed at length his way and fawning said: "I have some little skill in certain arts Called by the people magic, and I fain Thus offer thee my services. I thought I might amuse a tedious idle hour For his imperial majesty and so Perhaps, I know not how, but thou shouldst choose, Serve thee, the wonder of the woman world. Nay, this presumes amiss; I crave thy grace, Forgive me, thou who art already queen And empress of the earth, and canst not need Service from any. I am all confused Before thee, like one dazzled by the sun. "It is my foolish vanity, I feel, Nothing but that; but here am I in Rome, And it would be the triumph of my life— Just a JudÆan magian as I am— With a few rather pretty tricks I know. I on occasion have even awed a mind Open to superstition (as most minds Are sometimes, aye, the wisest among men, Let witness the great Julius) with my art. If ever the fair sovereign of his breast Should in aught wish him more amenable, Thou mayst trust me, and I should not despair To move his mind as thou mightst signify." Not quite at venture Simon drew his bow Thus, for from common fame he knew how keen That very moment was PoppÆa's wish, As yet denied to her imperious suit, To supersede Octavia in her right And be the consort of the emperor. The wily sorcerer warped his sinuous way: "Here I have seemed to sue thee for myself; But, sooth to say, I plead another's cause. Wilt thou not see Drusilla? Jewess, who, Declined from royal fortune and degree, Now seeks a hearing from the emperor For her lord Felix, late in Palestine Under some cloud of doubt at Rome. Beseech Thee, give my liege Drusilla speech with thee. She too is fair, if not as thou, yet fair. She fain, I think, would meet the emperor In person, that her tears might touch his heart." Subtle insinuation was conveyed By Simon saying this, which the quick sense Of the imperial favorite caught; she said: "It does not need thy lady fair should first Wait upon me; without that, she shall have Her wished access and opportunity. When her lord Felix presently is called To hearing, let Drusilla with him come. Her privilege she will find before prepared; So much I freely undertake for her." PoppÆa had her reasons and her scheme; And, as for Simon, he said to himself: "Whichever woman prosper, I am sped." Drusilla girded up both mind and will To meet her one imperial chance aright. Went she, her peerless beauty wielded all With absolute command infallible— Like a bright weapon edged and tempered true Seen wielded in the perfect swordsman's hand. Slack heed the youthful emperor paid him Still struggling to support his truculence; His gaze fixed undisguisedly on her. PoppÆa from behind a screen set nigh Saw and heard all; not unsuspected quite Of the alert Drusilla wise as she In arts of ambush for waylaying words Or looks meant to be private: Nero knew PoppÆa was there. Drusilla triumphing Joyed in her heart to have her rival see How easy usurpation was when one Appeared whose very birthright was to reign: Nero was willing those eavesdropping ears And eyes should witness what would madden them; He took a wanton mischievous delight In teasing that fierce heart to jealousy. This, too much drunken with her glorying, In measure of the conquest she had won. The emperor made the hearing short; dismissed Felix dismayed and from his truculence Completely broken—to his servile state Remanded, as in spirit so in mien. Yet did not Nero so his cause conclude: He said frankly to Felix: "Go, my lord, Thy way; I shall not need to see thee more. Let thou this lady at next summons come Without thee; she shall better plead thy cause." Sentence of death the emperor had pronounced, Not meaning it, upon that wretched man. Felix resumed his truculence, alone Returning with Drusilla; he had felt— Insensate as he was, could not but feel— Her separation of herself from him In the imperial presence, and he now Fiercely upbraided her. But she was soft Replying; with indignant tenderness Purged herself clear of all but loving guile Practiced reluctantly in his behoof— His, sole, her husband, father to her son!— Felix could not resist the witching wiles Of fondness and of faithfulness she plied, And he became a plaything in her hands Trusting alike her loyalty and wit. She presently told Simon: "Full come now The time is that thy master should enjoy Sleep undisturbed with dreams. Compound for me The quieting potion that thou toldst me of. See that thou make it strong enough; thy lord Is not a puny weakling to be soothed With what might still a crying babe; and I— Nay, thou, thou thyself, Simon, shalt commend His opiate to his lips." The sorcerer shrugged His shoulders and demurred: "O liege, nor thou, Nor I, with our own hands, should to his lips Present the potion. Let a trusted slave Bear it unto his master's bath to-night, And say: 'His queen unto lord Felix sends Health and the promise of more quiet sleep.' The draught is drastic—for a lullaby— Indeed disturbing in its first effect; But safe sleep it will bring whoever drinks." Drusilla made her tone expressionless In asking; and in like wise Simon said: "Not too much, lady—let me be the judge, Or thee who lovest him equally with me." Drusilla summoned Syrus, and said to him: "Thou lovest thy master and thy mistress well— Better, I think, of late than once thou didst." "My master and my mistress both I love So as, I trust, to serve them faithfully," The slave, a little hard bestead, replied. "Aye, I have noted thy true love for us; Be sure, lad, thou shalt nothing lose thereby," Drusilla wheedlingly resumed; whereat Syrus could not refrain himself from saying In so much spurning of the sense implied: "Yea, noble lady, none can ever lose Aught by obeying Christ the Lord in heaven." "What meanest thou, boy?" Drusilla sharply said. "Lord other than lord Felix hast thou then?" Syrus was sorry he had gone so far; Yet loyalty to Jesus and to Paul With instinct of unquenchable revolt From Felix and Drusilla both alike, Buoyed him and kept him firm in that assay. "Yea, madam," he replied, "I have a lord, Christ Jesus, crucified once, but alive Now and ascended far above all height By the right hand of God in heaven set down." 'That is of Paul, that surely is of Paul!' Drusilla reasoned; then, with threatening brow, To Syrus: "Whence these things to thee? The truth— Thou hast heard Paul, and learned such lies from him?" "I have heard Paul, yea, madam, and have learned From him such truth as makes me true to thee Beyond what ever I had been before." "Aye, aye, no doubt," Drusilla, musing, sneered. A light broke in upon her mind; she said: "That precious runaway, Onesimus, He, I suppose, heard Paul, and got himself Puffed up with these same notions of a lord In heaven, which set him feeling free of us. Tell me, what knowest thou of Onesimus? Thou rogue, for verily I believe thou knowest." Shrewd as he was, Syrus conceived a hope, A sudden simple hope that if the truth, The beautiful mere truth, were told her now, Drusilla, yea, Drusilla even, would feel Its power. So he rehearsed the history, How that Onesimus, induced by Paul, Had gone back to his master at ColossÆ; How that his master, for the love of Paul Who had erst won him to the love of Jesus, Had bidden Onesimus return to Rome There in his stead to minister to Paul; How that Onesimus had gladly come, And was that moment gratefully with Paul. Drusilla listened, but she gave no sign; She had in truth been listening absently, Absorbedly considering what fresh proof To purpose against Paul perhaps was here. She said to Syrus: "Aye, a pretty tale To entertain thy mistress' ear withal! Why never can you people tell the truth? You always seem to think you must contrive Well, well, it is your way. But now, my lad, Be ready, when thy master to his bath Shall presently repair, bring me prompt word. An errand I shall have for thee to him That as thou lovest him thou wilt love to do." Syrus, as bidden duly coming, heard: "Take this, my lad, let not a drop be spilled, And bearing it to thy master say to him, 'Thy lady sends a sleeping-draught to thee, And with it wishes health and placid sleep.'" Syrus, deep scrupling, 'Fair is this, or foul?' Yet found no way not to fulfill the word. Felix said: "This is strange. What sayest thou, boy? Thy mistress sends me this? Thou liest, thou wretch! This is thine own work; thou wouldst do me dead; Drink it thyself, thou varlet, and go sleep. Thou wilt not? Nay, but yea thou wilt, thou shalt; Now, let me see thee drink it every drop." Gave Syrus back the chalice. "Let me call My mistress; thou shalt hear from her own lips Whether she did not send this draught to thee, Charging me not to waste one precious drop. I know I should offend by drinking it. But thou mightst take it somewhat heedfully, Trying it drop by drop at first to prove Its virtue and its fitness to thy case." So Syrus pleaded; and his master said: "That is not spoken like a poisoner. But so thou darest, rascal, cast a doubt On what thy mistress sends in love to me? Thou shalt pay dear for that; for I shall tell Her thou presumedst to advise to me A care, forsooth, how I partook her cheer. Here, give it me, and I will toss it off— One swallow—there!—and lay me down to sleep." Drusilla, soon thereafter called again To audience with the emperor, high in hope Went radiant with her beauty; but was vexed To find PoppÆa seated by his side She sat resplendent in her robes of state, As queenly in her person and her port; Yet of a soft delicious loveliness That took Drusilla captive by its charm. Aspiring as she did to rival her Drusilla thought involuntary thoughts Of admiration mixed with jealousy: 'No wonder that she sits there throned by him, Imperial lovely creature that she is! That bloom of youth and beauty on her cheek! The tempting undulation of repose Suggested underneath the graceful folds Of vesture that flow down the supple limbs And softening into curves of lusciousness The statuesque perfection of her form! But pampered with what pains of luxury! They say five hundred asses follow her Wherever she makes progresses abroad And spend their milk to brim a bath for her, That her sweet flesh and delicate lose not That melting softness and that lucency!' 'The wanton!'—so she virtuously thought. PoppÆa was all graciousness; she bade Drusilla trust her friendship utterly. She had had herself her sorrow; whereat tears Orbed large her lucid eyes and fairer made. She quoted Dido out of Virgil, saying, "'Myself not inexperienced in distress, I learn to succor who are miserable.' My Otho—but that wound is yet too fresh! Why had lord Felix died so suddenly? He had no need to die so—if he took His own life rashly in despair; his cause Was far from lost—in fact, was safe enough—" "His brother Pallas," Nero interposed, "Had seen to that; but there were reasons of state Why his acquittal should not yet transpire." "Indeed I comforted my spouse with hope All that I could," Drusilla wiped a tear Responding, "and it was not suicide, I think now, but a prompted murder base." "Murder is rampant everywhere in Rome," The Rhadamanthine Nero sadly said; "But we think little of it till it stalks Into the sacred circle of our own And strikes down husband, mother, ruthlessly!" In tacit token of sweet sympathy. 'Such acting! Can I hope to equal it?' Drusilla, not a little dashed in spirit, Said to herself; 'yet let me not despair.' "Madam, thy husband's death must be avenged," So Nero, with imperial complaisance But in a manner to dismiss the theme. Accepting the dismissal meant, and yet Attaching to her dutiful reply A hint to tempt him on, Drusilla said: "I thank thy majesty for saying that; And the same stroke will many crimes avenge." Had she achieved her wish? She could not guess. Nero, as if with shift of aim, inquired: "Thou art late arrived in Rome from Palestine; What dost thou chance to know of this man Paul, Prisoner here, like thyself Jew in blood?" "I thank thee too that thou hast asked me that," Drusilla with judicial candor said; "Aye, Paul is of one kindred with myself, I blush to say it; he is a renegade, I pray thee judge thou not our race from him." "But our sage Seneca, my schoolmaster," Smiled Nero with imperial pleasantry, "Speaks otherwise of Paul. I bade him go Visit the Jew philosopher in chains And sound him of the depth of wisdom his. He brought me back a wonderful report; 'A little transcendental,' so he said, 'Too much of Oriental mysticism, But sane at bottom, and a man of worth.' Tell us about Paul. I should be much pleased To put to blush my old oracular Smug Seneca with proof that he for once At least mistook; a fine old gentleman Is Seneca, but too infallible; In fact, intolerably infallible. I cannot stand infallibility— Except my own and thine of course, my dear PoppÆa! When they come to deify Us, we shall have to be infallible. That is, supposably: I will inquire Of Seneca; he is my arbiter, Know, madam, in these minor points, as is In those more serious points of etiquette." Drusilla masked amazement, listening keen While this young portent of an emperor Let play his humor of hilarity. Eccentric and incalculable curves Of orbit, pure caprices of career, Might seem to be the movement of his speech; But always, from whatever apogee, It failed not its return to bitterness: The playful tiger gnashed his ravin fangs. Still turning toward Drusilla, he went on: "Behooves, lady, thine emperor of the world Should be well schooled in all things; I abound In tutors at my elbows to nudge me; Old Burrus there, I have not mentioned him— No disrespect intended—what thinkest thou? Schoolmasters and schoolmistresses and all, Is there not risk they overstep the bound? So few know where, just where, the limit is. My own dear mother—to her ashes peace!— Sacred as was her right, if she had lived Might yet have come to manage overmuch." PoppÆa even, in her victorious calm Of conscious power beside him, winced at this As at slant notice served upon herself; And poor Drusilla hugged a shudder down. But Nero rattled on licentiously: "What was I saying? Aye, 'infallible'"— And toward PoppÆa now his eye he turned— "We two shall have to be infallible— I take it so—when they make gods of us. What a bore that, to be infallible! Bore to be anything because one must! Let us take it as a joke and not be bored— Uproarious joke, my dear, for me and thee To pose as gods, while we hold both our sides Lest we split laughing and upset mankind! "But for the present here is help arrived, Welcome, while we stay only mortals yet, To make that old prig of a Seneca Come down once from his magisterial throne." Wherewith he to Drusilla spoke once more: "Madam, we listen, tell us about Paul." Besides that menace slanted in his words, The gamesome emperor hurt Drusilla sore Accord and understanding knit between Himself and this PoppÆa; worse to bear, PoppÆa's easy air of affable— A condescension equal to his own Toward her, Drusilla, air as of a queen Deigning her scepter toward a suppliant! Drusilla would have felt it like a touch Of tonic to her blood, could she have found One least hint that PoppÆa in her heart Hated her: but PoppÆa far too well Was mistress of her part; she sweetly smiled Exquisite discomposure on her foe. With sheer exertion of her will, or helped Only with the delight to injure Paul— Daunted, yet with a front of dauntlessness— Drusilla entered on her perjury. By the reaction of her eloquence Upon herself reflected from the fixed Admiring heed she won, she plucked up heart Of buoyance to be brilliant more and more As she went on and told the emperor, Him chiefly, and at length not her at all, He at Jerusalem had raised a mob And tumult of his outraged countrymen Against himself; they, out of loyalty, Would then and there have rent him limb from limb, But that the chiliarch intervened to save The wretch from violence—not of the law, Though well deserved—and under escort thence Sent him to her lord Felix, governor At CÆsarea, to be held and judged. Felix, who was the heart of lenity, Not bearing to condemn him for his crimes, Postponed his trial, until Festus came Successor to her husband dispossessed Of kingdom for his too much clemency— Fault, yet a noble fault, and CÆsar-like ('My Otho!' thy word, madam; 'my Felix!' mine)— Then Festus on the point to sentence him Was thwarted by the culprit's hardihood; Desperate hardihood seeking reprieve At least fro |
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