  Simon, sent by Drusilla to the emperor, finds it impossible to reach the imperial presence without help from PoppÆa, who grants him her favor only on condition that he will serve her wish at need. The crafty sorcerer buys his way with the necessary promises. Nero flouts Simon with disdainful irony and sarcasm, which excites the sorcerer's resentment. This feeling he dissembles, while he counsels the unfaithful imperial husband how to rid himself of his young empress Octavia—the sorcerer being all the time in doubt whether it is with Drusilla or with PoppÆa that the emperor, who speaks darkly, would supplant her. Nero at length dismisses Simon, bidding him tell his mistress the emperor's desire to pay her a secret visit. This message the sorcerer gratifies his own spleen by conveying to Drusilla in terms the most offensive to her pride. She bursts out in violent anger and spurning; but Simon shows his mistress how she may salve in a measure the hurt to her dignity, and at the same time serve her hatred of Paul, by making it a condition of her complaisance that the emperor shall first put the apostle and his companions to death. The sorcerer returns with her reply to Nero, who again, and even more deeply than before, stirs the Jew's heart to deadly hatred. Simon plots a wild scheme to have his revenge. Meantime with change in certain officers of the government the aspect of affairs grows threatening for Paul and his fellow-Christians. Onesimus and Syrus are arrested and hurried away to suffer on the rack. NERO AND SIMON. class="i0">With first obeisance to PoppÆa paid(And blithe report to her of progress good Toward what she wished—wanting, he cheerly thought, But one more audience to attain the goal) Simon betook him to the emperor, Who greeted him with: "Well, what, pander? Speak! No parley, no ambages; great affairs Are now engaging me. Is all arranged? What is the night appointed? O, I see Broad written over all thy countenance, Palter, pretext, delay, to tantalize Forsooth and tease a lover's eagerness. But I am in no mood to be played with; Thou balkest me at thy peril; speak, man, speak! What message does the fair Drusilla send?" Simon came hating with a perilous hate, Hate perilous to himself, the emperor For all the scorning poured before on him; Now, at such words of scorn more bitter yet, His fierce resentment almost overbore His fear; it threatened to burst out in flame. To smother it—as yet; the deeper burned It in his bosom, forced to smoulder there. His hatred and his fear together made His wit clear, swift, and ready to command. He dared not fence, and so he answered fair— At some cost to his mistress, more than he Foreshadowed in obtaining her consent: "My lady agrees, but does not fix the time." "Agrees, of course agrees," grossly replied Nero; "but when, thou paltering rascal, when?— That is the point thou knowest, and she knows." "Lady Drusilla begs the emperor Will," wily Simon said, "do her the grace To choose his own time; his choice will be hers." "Beyond just expectation complaisant!" With a placated grin, the emperor said. Simon made thrifty haste not to let slip His favorable chance precarious; He spoke: "Aye, when thy gracious majesty Shalt have appointed death deserved for Paul And for the pestilent crew his company, And shalt have signified to her thy leave To see the sentence visited on them— Of vengeance on the emperor's enemies Shall brighter than that day to her be made If she may welcome then as visitant Him who shall so have pledged her his regard." "Ah, so she makes conditions after all," Clouding his brow, but lightly, Nero said. "A woman is a woman," Simon replied, "And queen Drusilla is high-spirited Doubtless beyond the common; humor her, I pray thee, in this trifle; thou wilt note How that, in seeming so to save her pride Somewhat, her dignity, her modesty, She really seeks to serve a public end Of justice and of good imperial fame." "Thou makest her worthy of a throne indeed," The emperor with indulgent sarcasm said, "With her wise forecast and expansive views." "Faith toward the person of the emperor— Faith, and perhaps some nearer sentiment— Inspires her to be large in statesmanship," Said Simon—eased a moment in his mind To be diplomatist in honeyed lies. "Tell her I will consult my oracle," Nero maliciously replied; "and say My oracle is a lady, hence will know Better than I should dare pretend I can What would be fit in such peculiar case. As fountain prime of justice to my realm, I own I have some scruples in this thing— Whether it were ideal right and good To barter sentences of life and death Simply that I may please a lady fair, And be a favored suitor at her court. "But I perhaps will toss a die and see What chance will say; chance is a prudent god, And, in his seeming-random way, is right As oft as wisdom with his reasons weighed: Besides I can keep on throwing, till the turn Pleases my fancy of the moment. Go, Solemn ambassador from court to court, Report what I have said, but give a wink At end to mean thou guessest all is well." Simon, retiring, soon PoppÆa sought, And, with dark hint and indirection, told How he had dropped into the emperor's ear Would quickly spring and blossom and bear fruit To the advantage of her dearest wish: It would but need attaint Octavia's faith As consort of the emperor, and so, By open operation of the law, Set her aside and leave him lorn of wife. The acclamation of the people then Would join the emperor's own desire to fill Octavia's vacant room with—whom but one? But would PoppÆa help him in one thing? He greatly wished to give the emperor proof Of what he could accomplish in his art Of conjuring with weird supernatural powers; He thought his weight as intermediary In her behalf would be increased thereby. PoppÆa, promising to stir up the mind Of Nero to a proper appetite For Simon's thaumaturgy, let him go. While such fruits in the dark were growing ripe, Things in the open looked the self-same way. Stephen, who daily scouted in the world Without of Rome, its rumor, its event, "Burrus is dead, that just man; how he died, Whether of sickness, poison, suicide, No man can say—or rather all men say, Some, one thing, some, another; doubtful all. But two men take his place in prefecture, One, Tigellinus—baser none than he: |
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