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156 DAKKNESS AND DAWN
grand temple had been reared in his honour on the Coelian
hill ; priests
his divinity.
and priestesses had been appointed to worship
He knew very well that this might be regarded
as a conventional officialism ;
but that the writer of this book
should thus openly laugh in the face of Rome, her religion,
and her Empire ;
that he should class Claudius with two
miserable idiots like Augurinus and Baba; that he should
brutally ridicule his absence of mind, his slavering lips, his
ungainly aspect, and represent the Olympian deities in consultation
as to whether he was a god, a human being, or a seamonster
this seemed to him an act of shameless hypocrisy.
He had seen how the Romans prostrated themselves in the
dust before his father in his lifetime, as it were to lick his
sandals ;
how Seneca himself had blazoned his earthly godship
in paragraphs of sonorous eloquence. Yet here, on the table
of his successor and adopted son, was a satire replete in every
line with enormous slanders. And who could have "written
it? Britannicus could think of no one but Seneca; and all
the more since the marks on the manuscript showed that
Nero had read it, and read it with amused appreciation.
When Nero entered he found Britannicus standing by the
table transfixed with auger. His cheeks were crimson with
shame and indignation. Panting with wrath, he was unable
even to return the greeting of Nero, who looked at him with
astonishment till he saw the scroll from which he had been
reading. Nero instantly snatched it out of his hand. He
was vexed that the boy had seen it. It had not been intended
for his eyes. But now that the mischief was done he thought
it better to make light of it.
'
'
Oh,' he said, I see that you have been reading that foolish
satire. Don't be in such a state of mind about it. It is
meant for a mere jest.'
' '
A jest
! exclaimed Britannicus, as soon as he found voice
to speak. * It is high treason against the religion of Rome,
against the majesty of the Empire.'
'
'
Nonsense ! said Nero, with a '
shrug of his shoulders.
I don't mind it, why should you ? You are but a boy.
Leave such matters to those who understand them, and know
more of the world.'
'
Why do you always treat me as a child '
? asked Britannicus
indignantly. I am nearly fifteen years old. '
'
I arn
If