“She is resigned. She also will not leave her palace. But when my father died the whole city put on mourning. Now the death of the emperor’s son causes only an extra meeting of the Senate.”
“Thy father was idolized by the people,” said Agrippina, proudly. “Hast thou forgotten the encomium that was pronounced when his body was reduced to ashes? I taught thee the words. Let me hear thee say them.”
The youth thought a moment and then began: “He was as graceful as Alexander the Great; of equally illustrious descent; in years the same; both fell victims to the machinations of their countrymen, in the midst of foreign nations; but Germanicus was gentle towards his friends, moderate in his pleasures; the husband of one wife; his children legitimate. Had he been sole arbiter of his destiny, had he possessed the sovereignty and the title of royalty, he would have surpassed Alexander in military renown as greatly as he surpassed him in clemency, in moderation, and in all other virtues.”
“Thou hast the best memory of all my sons!” said Agrippina, smiling sorrowfully.
“Where will they bury Drusus, my mother?” asked the lad.
“In the mausoleum destined for our remains,” replied Agrippina, “among the ashes of Marcellus, Octavia, my father, Agrippa, thy great-grandfather, the Divine Augustus, my brothers Caius, Lucius, and Agrippa, and thy noble father.”
“Ay, my mother; but Drusus belongs not to the Julian family.”
“As husband to Livilla, my son, his ashes will have that distinction.”
“Although I was but a child of nine,” said Drusus, thoughtfully, “when I went with Nero to meet thee, at Terracina, carrying the ashes of my dear father, yet clearly do I remember that day.”
“’Twas the saddest day of my voyage home,” she sadly replied. “At Brundusium, O my son, the country round about poured forth its people so that the wharves, the buildings, and the temples of that city were black with crowds clad in mourning robes. In that dense throng were friends and relatives, as well as officers and soldiers who had served under thy father in many campaigns. When the bireme that bore thy father’s remains floated into the harbor of that great city, a simultaneous groan arose from that multitude. As I walked from the bireme, carrying the urn that contained the ashes of thy father, and followed by Caligula and the babe Julia, in the arms of her nurse, men wept like women, women like children. The journey from Brundusium to Terracina was one long lament.”