The Lives of the Twelve Caesars, Volume 06: NeroSuetonius
History
The Lives of the Twelve Caesars, Volume 06: Nero
Suetonius
Emperors -- Rome -- Biography -- Early works to 1800; Rome -- History -- Empire, 30 B.C.-284 A.D.
XLVIII. But this furious impulse subsiding, he wished for some place of
privacy, where he might collect his thoughts; and his freedman Phaon
offering him his country-house, between the Salarian [626] and Nomentan
[627] roads, about four miles from the city, he mounted a horse, barefoot
as he was, and in his tunic, only slipping over it an old soiled cloak;
with his head muffled up, and an handkerchief before his face, and four
persons only to attend him, of whom Sporus was one. He was suddenly
struck with horror by an earthquake, and by a flash of lightning which
darted full in his face, and heard from the neighbouring camp [628] the
shouts of the soldiers, wishing his destruction, and prosperity to Galba.
He also heard a traveller they met on the road, say, "They are (377) in
pursuit of Nero:" and another ask, "Is there any news in the city about
Nero?" Uncovering his face when his horse was started by the scent of a
carcase which lay in the road, he was recognized and saluted by an old
soldier who had been discharged from the guards. When they came to the
lane which turned up to the house, they quitted their horses, and with
much difficulty he wound among bushes, and briars, and along a track
through a bed of rushes, over which they spread their cloaks for him to
walk on. Having reached a wall at the back of the villa, Phaon advised
him to hide himself awhile in a sand-pit; when he replied, "I will not go
under-ground alive." Staying there some little time, while preparations
were made for bringing him privately into the villa, he took up some
water out of a neighbouring tank in his hand, to drink, saying, "This is
Nero's distilled water." [629] Then his cloak having been torn by the
brambles, he pulled out the thorns which stuck in it. At last, being
admitted, creeping upon his hands and knees, through a hole made for him
in the wall, he lay down in the first closet he came to, upon a miserable
pallet, with an old coverlet thrown over it; and being both hungry and
thirsty, though he refused some coarse bread that was brought him, he
drank a little warm water.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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