The history of Alcmaeon was a sad one. His father had been wealthy, but had lost his patrimony when Antony marched through Greece to fight Octavianus. With what little he had left he moved with his wife to Brundusium, a great seaport town in Italy, where Alcmaeon was born. They lived there until Alcmaeon grew to manhood and married. After the death of his father Alcmaeon took his mother and his wife, Hera, and moved to Rome, where he rented a small house outside the city, on a little road that crossed the Appian Way.
As there was more demand for Greek teachers in Rome than in Brundusium, he soon found employment in one of the schools. But his life was again saddened by the death of his mother. Her delicate constitution could not brave the fever that hovered over the suburbs of the city. Soon after this second loss his daughter, Psyche, was born, and in the following year Gannon. With their coming a new era began for Alcmaeon. After his day’s work at school he hastened home in joyful anticipation of seeing the smiling faces of his children. How it pleased him to watch his little ones grow, day by day! With what delight he taught their baby lips to speak the language of his fatherland! How he loved to put them to sleep, while Hera removed the remains of the evening meal! During this, the children’s hour, he would tenderly take them into his arms for a frolic, and gradually quiet them until their eyelids grew heavy and closed in sleep. Then he would gently put them to bed, and softly kiss them good-night.
When the position as secretary to Sejanus was offered to Gannon, the lad nearly danced with joy. His young heart beat stronger and faster as he broke the news to his family. With such an opportunity he thought he might advance, by diligent application, until he should occupy a post of high honor. He thought that the prayers of his parents, as well as his own, were at last being answered; that through him the fortunes of his family were to be restored. He told his parents that he would take them back to dear old Greece; that they should live once more in the country where, as Alcmaeon said, “The music of soul-stirring phrases and glorious ideas was forged by great men on the anvils of poetry and philosophy.” He worked earnestly and diligently, and progressed steadily, until he was trusted with communications to carry to the emperor. He so promptly responded to every summons, and so cheerfully carried out the orders of Sejanus, as to win the favor of that sternest of masters. His proud and graceful bearing and refined manners greatly aided in his advancement. Chiefly because of these advantages, he had been chosen to carry letters from his master to Livilla, the wife of Drusus and the daughter-in-law of Tiberius.
His situation, however, was not one of unalloyed happiness. His promotion engendered little jealousies and quarrels. At first the other secretaries in the office of Sejanus treated Gannon contemptuously. They watched his advancement invidiously, and one of them, named Alvus, who had previously been employed to carry letters to Livilla, quarrelled with him. Words led to blows, and, although Gannon fought bravely, he was badly beaten. However, the secretaries understood that they could not intimidate him. But there was continual friction, until, one day, Alvus fell ill. With no feeling of resentment towards Alvus, Gannon performed not only his own work, but also that of his sick associate. By this generous act, by other favors, and by the ingenuous manner in which he taught his companions to ornament their speech with Greek words, a fashion of the day, he completely won their friendship.
When Gannon carried the first letter to Livilla, he looked upon that event as the most important in his life. He impatiently awaited his night of freedom, so that he could describe to his family the magnificent palace on the Esquiline Hill. When the night finally came, he hurried home. On his arrival the evening meal was ready, and his family were awaiting him.
“Hail, father, and thee, mother, and thee, Psyche!” he cried joyfully, as he entered the house.
“Art thou not late, my son?” asked Hera.
“Ay, mother. We are always busy at the camp. To-day many letters came from Greece.”
He lovingly kissed his family. His happy talk and gay spirits affected them as a flood of light brightens a darkened room.
“Art thou not hungry, my son?” asked Alcmaeon.