CHAPTER XLV
POPPÆA VICTRIX
‘On that hard pagan world disgust
And secret loathing fell;
Deep weariness and sated lust
Made human life a hell.’
Matthew Arnold.
Not long after the arrival of Paul at Rome, Burrus died. He was seized with inflammation of the throat, and Nero, under the pretence of solicitude, betrayed an ill-concealed satisfaction. He had not dared to get rid of Burrus, whom the Prætorians loved; but he fretted under the restraint of the soldier’s presence, and resented an influence which endeavoured to exert itself for good. Nero could not mistake the innuendos of Tigellinus, that this was a good opportunity to set himself free. He promised to send Burrus a remedy recommended by his own physician. The remedy was a poison. Burrus perceived the fact too late. When Nero came to visit his sick bed, he turned away from him, with undisguised aversion.
‘How are you, Præfect?’ asked the Emperor, taking his hand as it lay on the coverlet.
Burrus hastily withdrew his hand. The question recalled to him the scene of the death of Scipio, the father-in-law of Pompey, who, seeing his ship in the possession of the enemy, stabbed himself, and on hearing the question, ‘Where is the general?’ answered, ‘The general is well.’ Burrus remained silent, but when the Emperor once more asked how he was, answered, ‘I am well.’ They were the last words he spoke, and every good man in Rome mourned the loss of one of the few virtuous men of whom the state could yet boast.
Nero might have bestowed the vacant command on the best soldier of his time, the brave and honest Corbulo, who had supported the fame of Roman courage on so many a hard-fought field.