Among the guests that night was the young king Herod Agrippa II. He sat in a conspicuous position at the highest table. As a boy he had been at Rome, but this was the first time that he had been present at any public gathering for many years. He had only just arrived on a mission from Palestine. He had inherited Chalcis, the little kingdom of his uncle Herod, but he was anxious to add to this domain the city of Tiberias and part of Galilee, where Herod Antipas had ruled, and this year the Emperor granted his wish. Nero had entrusted him to the care of Gallio, with whom he was eagerly conversing in Greek, and whom he overwhelmed with multitudes of questions. They spoke low, and, as they reclined at the banquet side by side, there was little chance of their being overheard, though their conversation was often of that kind which was the more interesting from its being somewhat dangerous. ‘How gay Cæsar’s guests must be,’ said Agrippa; ‘they are all smiles!’ ‘It is with many of them the fixed smile of a mask,’ said Gallio. ‘They smile to hide their misery.’ It was necessary for the success of Agrippa’s mission that he should stand well at Rome, and know something about the chief members of Roman society. He therefore asked Gallio the names and history of some of the guests. We will follow his pointed fingers, and perhaps the answers of Gallio may enable us to realise something more of the condition of things in pagan Rome. For Gallio did not spare a single reputation. He did not require to invent. Malignity had no need to search with candles. She only had to tell the truth, and there were few guests there whose reputation did not wither at her breath. Agrippa first wanted to know something about the ladies who were present, and Gallio drew caustic sketches of Poppæa, on whom Nero’s eyes were constantly fastened, and of Calvia Crispinilla. Agrippa’s attention was next attracted by Domitia Lepida, whose _tutulus_, or conical head-dress, it was the exclusive task of a slave-maiden to adorn. ‘That lady,’ said Gallio, ‘is the Emperor’s aunt. She used to neglect him, but now that he is Emperor she worships the very ground on which he treads.’ ‘And who is that lady in the sea-green Coan dress whose hair seems to be powdered with gold dust?’ ‘That is Junia Silana, nominally a bosom friend of Agrippina, really her deadliest enemy. Observe that lady near her, whose grey hairs are so elaborately dyed, and her cheeks so thickly rouged, and who is dressed with such juvenility. She is Ælia Catella. Would you believe that, though she is nearly eighty, she still dances?’ ‘O tempora! O mores!’ said Agrippa. ‘That exclamation sufficed for Cicero a hundred years ago; but he would want stronger expletives now.’ ‘I will give you Horace for your Cicero. Did he not sing-- ‘“What has not cankering Time made worse? Viler than grandsires, sires beget Ourselves, yet baser, soon to curse The world with offspring baser yet.”’