Ten days later the strangest procession in the long history of Rome defiled along the Sacred Way. First came the sky-stone, in his triumphal car drawn by four white stallions; but this time they were led by priests from Emesa, for the Emperor was otherwise engaged.
Behind the sky-stone, with his numerous train of Syrian priests, came the stone which is the most authentic embodiment of Vesta. I fixed my eyes on the ground as she went by, as did every other man in the crowd; for we knew that it is unlawful for any but women to see her. I heard later from a friend who knew a Vestal that she is indeed a shapeless lump of rock; though not, I believe, a sky-stone fallen from heaven but rather the summit of some holy mountain. She is the material body of Vesta, her dwelling when she is on earth; but the goddess spends much of her time in the upper world, so with any luck she was absent while her material body was profaned. At least that was the earnest prayer of every Roman who understood the facts.
The Clarissima had discovered this rock, which of course had not been within the earthenware jar delivered earlier to the temple of the Sun-god. Vestals are not dedicated for life, and a few of them marry after their service is finished. It happened that an ex-Vestal was a member of the Clarissima’s assembly of matrons; in her excitement when she heard of the Emperor’s proposal this woman talked indiscreetly, and once the Clarissima knew that the stone existed her threats did the rest. Being a fool as well as a foreigner, the Clarissima never knew how this action of hers had dismayed the Romans.
Vesta brought a great dowry to her lord, jewels of antique form, the offerings of 900 years, and chests of gold so heavy that two brawny slaves could scarcely carry one of them. That was the aspect of the affair which had finally persuaded Eutychianus and the officials of the treasury; the desecration might be unpopular, but it would bring in a great sum of urgently-needed cash. Vesta herself was carried on a small plain litter made of untrimmed boughs, for everything connected with her is of set purpose primitive and simple. Her bearers were four of the Vestals, who are her only servants.
Behind Vesta came the Emperor, who wore the foreign robes of his high priesthood. Gordius drove him in a four-horse triumphal chariot, which made Gordius for ever after unpopular in Rome. With an odd lack of fitness for the occasion the Emperor had chosen as his escort the eunuch priests of Cybele; the Romans regard these creatures as at the same time comic and disgusting, and I heard hooting as they passed. Last of all came Aquilia Severa, the chosen Vestal, a relative of the house of the Divine Severus. She walked, veiled in bridal garments of the traditional colour and shape; but they were made of the loose homespun which the Vestals weave for themselves, her face was unpainted and she wore no jewellery. She was about ten years older than the Emperor, a lady of good birth who could endure the stares of the crowd with dignity; but I have seldom seen a less attractive bride.
I saw nothing more of the strange wedding; though like everyone else I heard about the dances, the exotic sacrifices, the incense, the Syrian vestments and Asiatic music which for three hours made up the marriage between Vesta, guardian of Rome, and Elagabalus the Sun-god of Emesa. In the course of the ceremony, though so unobtrusively that few noted the actual moment, Elagabalus the high priest married Severa the dedicated virgin. I could have been there, among the friends of the family who thronged what had been for centuries the temple of Capitoline Jupiter and was now the shrine of the little black sky-stone. The Augusta had pressed me to come. I made the excuse that it was my duty to mingle with the crowd and test the sentiments of the common people of Rome.
In fact I kept away because I was afraid, afraid of supernatural disaster. I did not expect Jupiter to avenge his eviction from his ancient home. No one nowadays fears Jupiter. The cult of the Olympians has become a part of good manners, with no sterner sanction; you are no more likely to be punished for an insult to Jupiter than for being rude in a drawing-room.
Vesta is different. She is part of the ancient and miraculous beginning of the City of Rome. Her little round thatched hut stands as it stood in the days of King Romulus, and she has no home anywhere else on earth. To me chastity still matters, as once, a long time ago, it mattered to the Romans of Rome. I have never in my life seduced a virtuous woman, and the mistresses I have taken from time to time knew from the outset that it was only a business arrangement: the wife I have married in my exile came to me a maiden. (I don’t count rape in enemy country; you do that just because rape is wrong, and you want to do wrong to your enemies.) Vesta is the guardian of chaste family life. Now the Emperor had taken Vesta by force, to give her to his queer little bit of black stone from nowhere. If there is such a thing as luck, he was breaking the luck of Rome.
On a much lower plane, I thought he was also being unkind to Aquilia Severa. Vestals differ in their conduct, like any other group of human beings chosen at random. Their parents have vowed them to the goddess while they are too young to have minds of their own, and they know that the vow binds for thirty years only; some who began young have married after the vow was accomplished, and borne legitimate children. But Severa had been for fifteen years a model Vestal, genuinely doing her duty. She had grown used to virginity, and it was generally believed that she would stay on after her thirty years were up and become the chief Vestal. I suppose it was just because she was a genuine Vestal that the Emperor had chosen her; and perhaps because of her remote connexion with the family of the Divine Severus.
I could not avoid the festivities in the palace that evening; and indeed I did not wish to, for all the unlucky deeds had been done in the temple. There was a dinner of extraordinary magnificence, with literally hundreds of guests. In the huge banqueting hall part of the ceiling revolved, imitating the motions of the heavens; gouts of scent fell from it, mingled with rose-petals. The wainscoting of the walls, though patterned with coloured marbles and garnished with gems, had been arranged to slide by machinery as painted scenes slide in a theatre; for each of the seven courses the room completely changed in appearance. The food was magnificent and exotic, nightingales’ brains, larks’ tongues, elephants’ trunk, ostrich and giraffe. The wine was Falernian more than a hundred years old, mixed with a very small proportion of water.
But everything was most sedate. The Augusta and the other ladies of the household were present; even little Alexianus came in for a few minutes to drink the formal toast. The only entertainment provided was the reading of a long epithalamium by its author, a fashionable poet whose name I have forgotten.
Severa sat in a high chair at the head of the Emperor’s couch. He was most attentive, feeding her with dainties from his own plate. Unveiled, her cheeks flushed with wine, she looked more like a bride and less like a reluctant human sacrifice. She still seemed to me an odd choice for an Emperor who could choose from all the pretty girls in the world; but there was something attractive about her.
The stable boys were present, as usual. The Emperor suffered from the delusion that they were young men of exquisite sensibility, who would pine and fade away if they suspected that they were considered unfit for formal gatherings. But they had been placed all together at a group of tables in a corner, and I was not the only stalwart and influential courtier who had told them privately that they had better be quiet. They drank themselves to sleep without making any disturbance.
After the meal we drank for only an hour, listening in decorous boredom to the poet. Then the majordomo signalled us to rise as the Emperor prepared to leave his couch. To my surprise, for I had assumed that this second marriage would be a form like the connexion with poor little Paula, the Emperor conducted his bride to the marriage chamber. That night it was whispered all over the palace that, for the first time in his life, our young ruler had climbed into bed with a female. By dawn every steward was planning a new use for the apartments of Hierocles and the other boyfriends.
The same evening I was summoned to the Pincian gardens, where the Emperor was trying out a draft of Arabian colts. I enjoyed the atmosphere of those gardens. They were cr
owded with slaves, and favourites from a lowly station in life, and not one of them was afraid; a very rare condition in the pleasure-grounds of an Emperor. The colts were being galloped on a circular track; within it was a shorter track, where the well-trained carriage-girls could pull spectators fast enough to keep up with the horse-drawn chariots. We raced a little among ourselves; but not hard enough to distress our teams, for that would have angered the Emperor.
The charioteers were skilful, courageous, and considerate of their horses. It was fascinating to see how quickly the colts understood what was wanted from them. Soon they were pulling together without trying to kick one another, and stopping as they felt the bit. I noted that Hierocles was driving one of the chariots. He seemed not to have a care in the world.
When the horses had done enough the Emperor sent for me. He made me sit beside him on a marble bench, and ordered the stable boys to withdraw out of hearing. ‘I want your advice, Duratius,’ he began with his usual frankness, ‘ because you are the only normal man among my intimate friends. It would be no use consulting Gordius on a point of this kind. It’s about my marriage. The Sun-god inspired me to marry, because it’s obvious that any child born of a union between a Vestal and the high priest of Ernesa will be something more than a mortal. Moreover, it’s my duty to beget a son as soon as I can, to settle the succession. And besides all that I want a son, because fatherhood will be a new experience and my aim is to taste every experience open to mankind before I am called to join my predecessors among the gods. As you know, women don’t attract me. But there’s nothing wrong with Severa in particular, and last night I went to bed determined to do my best. Yet she is still a virgin. Now what do you advise.’
‘I have never experienced your trouble, my lord,’ I answered cautiously, ‘and I am not a physician. But certainly you ought not to despair after a single night. All the same, it might be prudent to prepare your mind for a disappointment. A union between the priest-king of Emesa and a Vestal of Rome should, as you say, produce a god. But sometimes the great gods are jealous of too many newcomers. You yourself will join them when your reign is ended, as you have just reminded me. Perhaps they don’t want to see Olympus swamped with your descendants. In short, if the lady Severa should continue barren blame the enmity of heaven, not any shortcomings in your own physical equipment.’
That was the best I could do on the spur of the moment; and not a bad effort when you consider my difficulties. There were so many truths that I dared no mention. The Emperor was manly enough with his boy-friends, according to the frank gossip of those low creatures; if something held him back from the terrible crime of deflowering a Vestal it might be holy awe, or even the direct intervention of the goddess. His fancy that the sky-stone had inspired him to perpetrate this wicked marriage was almost certainly mistaken, for the sky-stone was in general a kindly and virtuous god. But these were not suggestions that I could make to his face.
‘You are not very helpful,’ he said moodily. ‘I thought a proper man would tell me exactly what to do. I shall try again, of course, but I can’t try harder than I did last night. Perhaps Gordius and Hierocles were right after all. They told me the plan couldn’t really have come from the Sun-god. Do you think I may have been bewitched?’ he added, his face brightening as he clutched at this straw.
‘Can a witch harm the high priest of Elagabalus?’ I answered, anxious to scotch the idea. ‘If you have been bewitched you must endure it. The police are not to be trusted when it’s a question of discovering witches. Blackmail tempts them, or they work off old grudges. Remember your vow never to punish one of your subjects without due process of law.’
‘No, I won’t set the police to hunt witches. That vow of mine still binds. Besides, I hate cruelty, it makes me shudder just to imagine it. I shall persevere with my bride, and perhaps make discreet inquiries into how other men manage it. I’m quite sure the Sun-god would never deceive me with a false inspiration. He wanted to marry Vesta, and that made it right for me to marry a Vestal. But there’s always the chance that he may change his mind. In some ways he is strangely inconstant. After countless generations I am the first of his priest-kings whom he has chosen to be Emperor of the Roman People.’
I murmured agreement and the Emperor strolled off the chat with Gordius. He felt better after telling me his troubles, but he never cared to talk for long on one subject. I was very much relieved. He was evidently trying to find some dignified way to save his face if the marriage should prove intolerable.
During the next month curious stories of the Emperor’s inquiries were current in the palace. I cannot vouch for their accuracy; he was beginning to think of me as a respectable elderly adviser, from whom some activities should be hidden. It was said that he sent police agents into the public baths, to pick out the men with the largest sexual organs; these were then brought to the palace, and commanded to demonstrate their prowess. Another story was that, to find out about the nature of women, the Emperor himself visited a bath reserved for females; he soothed the frightened matrons by claiming that he was in part female himself, and displayed his depilated body to prove it. This second story sounds more plausible than the first. In sexual matters the Emperor’s curiosity was unbounded, and in spite of the girls who drew his garden carriages, he knew very little about the nature of women. But both may be slanders. At that time slander was busy.
After a month the high priest of the Sun-god announced officially to the Senate that Elagabalus had made a mistake. (Some Senators, unfamiliar with his phraseology, thought he was referring to himself, and nearly fainted at the idea of an Emperor publicly admitting a mistake.) The god did not get on with Vesta, who was too rough for his tender nature. Instead he would marry Astarte, whose Syrian ritual resembled his own.
That same afternoon Vesta was returned to her round thatched hut, with her sacred things and her jewellery; but her money had been spent on the army. With the goddess went the Vestal Aquilia Severa, still a virgin and therefore still competent for her old duties.
12. The Emperor Untrammelled
The Emperor had held the Purple for more than three years, and was approaching his seventeenth birthday; an astonishing achievement when you consider it in cold blood. His self-confidence had increased, and he no longer looked to his grandmother for advice. But the ladies of the imperial household still enjoyed great influence, especially in the many branches of administration which bored the Emperor. The Augusta, in partnership with the famous lawyer Ulpianus, looked after the civil service. The Clarissima saw to it that a succession of handsome young officers held well-paid and unexacting posts in Rome. The lady Mamea interested herself in scholarship; she was the only member of the family who sought to please the opinion of conventional Rome, and in the Senate she had many devoted friends.
Alexianus, nearly thirteen years of age, was heir presumptive to the Purple. But to be heir to a healthy young man four years his senior was not so promising as it sounded; there was no reason to suppose that he would outlive his cousin. Outside the palace the public were inclined to forget Alexianus, though his mother saw to it that the court and particularly the Senate were frequently reminded of him.
The Emperor’s main interest was chariot-racing. The Green faction was practically managed from the palace, though the Emperor was sportsman enough to allow the Blues a fair chance. Chariot-racing involved looking after the stable boys who had followed him from Nicomedia. His other hobby was making life unpleasant for pompous Senators; occasionally he was able to combine the two pastimes.
He promoted Gordius and Protogenes to the Senate, endowing them with the necessary income from his privy purse. Gordius was in addition Praefect of the Watch, in charge of the uniformed police of Rome; he was as competent as some other policemen I have known, but the nobility felt insulted when they had to obey his traffic regulations. One of the lesser stable boys, a fellow known as Claudius the Barber, was made Praefect of the Corn Supply, which he managed very well. Under his administrati
on there was plenty of corn in Rome, though perhaps it cost the taxpayer more than was necessary.
By restoring Vesta to her hut and dismissing Aquilia Severa the Emperor had regained his popularity with the middle classes. I myself could serve him with a more tranquil mind now that he was no longer under the displeasure of the gods. The soldiers regarded him with affection. He was doing to the Senators, mostly retired senior officers, what every ranker would like to do to senior officers.
He had never executed a Senator save after lawful trial; he had never even confiscated a Senator’s wealth, or sent him into exile. All the same, he found ways to make life extremely unpleasant for those overbearing nobles.
The worship of the sky-stone continued, though now the Emperor rarely attended in person. The great annual festival of Elagabalus was a splendid opportunity to compel curule magistrates to dance publicly in his honour.
At the same time, the Emperor kept his friends among the younger gentry. Some of his private dinners seemed to take in the whole city of Rome. At one of them there were twenty-two courses, each eaten in a different private mansion; after each course a fresh troupe of dancing-girls entertained the guests, and everyone present was clothed in green silk.
People came gladly to these parties even though they might end in undignified riot; because you never knew what you might draw in the Emperor’s lottery. Little presents distributed by lot are an old tradition of Roman dinners, though I have never encountered the custom in the provinces. But instead of the usual bag of sweets or jar of wine, the Emperor’s gifts were on an imperial scale. The climax of any feast at which he was host was the drawing of the lottery tickets.
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