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40 DARKNESS AND DAWN
Yet he might have been so !
happy His mother, Helvia,
was a woman who, in the dignity of her life and the simplicity
of her desires, set an example to the matrons of Kome, multitudes
of whom, in the highest circles, lived in an atmosphere of
daily intrigue and almost yearly divorce. His aunt, Marcia,
was a lady of high virtue and distinguished ability. His wife,
Paulina, was tender and loving. His pretty boy, Marcus,
whose bright young
life was so soon to end, charmed all
by his
mirthfuluess and engaging ways. His gardens were exquisitely
beautiful, and he never felt happier than when he laid aside his
cares and amused himself by running races with his little
slaves. His palace was splendid and stately, and he needed
not to have burdened himself with the magnificence which
gave him no pleasure and only excited a dangerous envy. It
would have been well for him if he had devoted his life to
literature arid philosophy. But he entered the magic circle of
the Palace, and with a sore conscience was constantly driven
to do what he disapproved, and to sanction what he hated.
Short as was the time which had elapsed since the death of
Claudius, he was already aware that in trying to control Nero
he was holding a wolf by the ears. Some kind friend had
shown him a sketch, brought from Pompeii, of a grasshopper
driving a griffin, and he knew that, harmless as it looked, the
griffin was meant for himself and the grasshopper for Nero.
Men regarded him as harnessed to the car of the frivolous
pupil whom he was unable to control.
He was sitting in his study one afternoon, and the low wind
sounded mournfully through the trees outside. It was a room
of fine proportions, and the shelves were crowded with choice
books. There were rolls of vellum or papyrus, stained saffroncolour
at the back, and fastened to sticks of ebony, of which
the bosses were gilded. All the most valuable were enclosed
in cases of purple parchment, with their titles attached to
them in letters of vermilion. There was scarcely a book there
which did not represent the best art of the famous booksellers,
the Sosii, in the Vicus Sandalarius, whose firm was as old as
the days of Horace. A glance at the library showed the taste
as well as the wealth of the eminent owner the ablest, the
richest, the most popular, the most powerful of the Roman
senators.
They who thought his lot so enviable little knew that his