Few princes, it is true, ever equalled Nero. He and his mother had poisoned Junius Silanus, the pro-consul of Asia; subsequently the young emperor made away with Agrippina, and the senate applauded that horrible crime, which was only the prelude to outrageous enterprises which astonish the historian who narrates them.
The Flamen was, indeed, bound to offer up solemn thanksgivings to Jupiter for having hitherto restrained the crowned monster from the commission of evil which afterwards marked his flagitious career.
It was the 64th year of the Christian era. The emperor had passed some time at Naples, whence it was thought he would go into Greece; but suddenly changing his project, he returned to the capital of the world, to prepare, it was said, a spectacle of unheard-of splendour, and such as Nero alone could conceive.
One of his ancient freed-men, Caius Domitius Seba, resolved to celebrate the return to Rome, and the tenth anniversary of the reign of his master, who was now become his patron and friend. That man possessed immense riches, a formidable credit at court, and an insolence which had struck so much terror into the souls of the proudest families of the empire, that they had long since humbled themselves before him.
So that it was no sooner whispered among the Roman aristocracy that the magnificent Seba intended to give a banquet, than one and all became anxious to be numbered with the guests of Cæsar’s favourite.
However, days past, the time for the nocturnal festival approached, and the Invitor had not made his appearance.
Among the Hebrews, nothing was more simple and unsophisticated than an invitation to dinner;[XXXV_1] but, with the Romans, etiquette required that the amphitryon should send one of his servants to each person who was to participate in his pompous hospitality. This servant, who was generally a freed-man, went from house to house, and indicated, with exquisite politeness, the day and precise hour of the banquet.[XXXV_2]