An Historical Débutante

Poppaea, the Wife To-be of Nero, is Taught a New Step Known as the Attic Toddle

JULIAN FRANCIS THOMPSON

I

THE rise of the curtain discloses the in~ terior of a slave market in the fashionable retail shopping district of Rome, in the year A.D. 47. It is an open arcade. Through large arches in the rear, the passing crowds in the street can be clearly seen. The proprietor and several sales persons move about among the wares kicking and whipping them into marketable positions. Suddenly, in the street, arises a great hullabaloo of shouting, cursing and running. Pedestrians fly to right and left. Slaves and freedmen; Nubians huddle together against the houses or dart into doorways. Then with a great clatter and roar there draws up in front of the market a snorting, six horse power, chummy roadster-chariot, driven by a mere slip of a girl. Some of her entourage of slaves, servants and out-runners hasten to help her to the street, while others kick into the gutter a handful of citizens who have been killed by her horses.She enters the market clad in a smart sport suit consisting of a pink silk slip and a pair of golden sandals; but, being very 1modest, she wears a veil across the lower half of her face. This is none other than Poppaea Sabina, sixteen year old millionairess and the most beautiful debutante in all of Rome. She approaches the slave dealer, who prostrates himself.

POPPAEA: Good morning, I have tons of shopping to do, can you wait on me right away ? (She does not wait for his reply) It's such a bore. One of my slaves spilled my Quelques Fleurs this morning and when I threw the Social Register at him he was too lazy to duck and it blinded him. But I don't suppose that's surprising, is it? It nearly blinds me when I see the sort of people who get their names in it nowadays. Have you any nice fresh slaves this morning?

THE SLAVE DEALER: Certainly, madame. Males are on this floor. Females are in the basement.

POPPAEA: That's a very good place for them. What have you new in males ?

THE SLAVE DEALER : Do you want him for any particular purpose?

POPPAEA: Well, first of all, he must positively be able to dance,—and he must be very decorative. Have you any with straight noses ? I really don't suppose I need another, but father lets me have twenty, so I take what I like. It's the best system. Then, if I ever run over my allowance, I sell a slave.

THE SLAVE DEALER : Madame is wise. If you will just step to this counter. These standing here,—stand up, damn you—are all strong, well set up fellows. I have been holding them to be used as murderers; there is such a brisk demand for them now in Rome.

POPPAEA: Well, of course, I shall want handsome ones. (She points to one of them) You there! Do you know any of the new Greek dances?

SLAVE: Alas, no! But I am obedient and strong. I have rowed in a galley for fifteen years.

POPPAEA: By Venus, I should think you would be strong. (She starts pinching his arms, and speaks to the dealer) Mother tells me always to pinch their arms to see if they are strong. The fat ones get discouraged so quickly, you know. (She glances at the slave's back. Through his tunic is seen a terribly scarred back. She turns on the dealer) Worm! You're trying to pass off damaged goods on me. Look at his back where they've beaten him. You know I don't want any secondhand slaves.

THE SLAVE DEALER: (fawns) I'm sorry, madame. He hid it from me. Get out of here, you miserable pretender. (He kicks the slave back) Of course I know you don't want that class of goods. Now here's one— (He draws out another).

POPPAEA: I suppose you're a galley slave too. Can you do the latest Greek dances?

SLAVE: NO, madame, but I can serve you in other ways. When the Romans captured my home I was a college professor. I can speak five languages.

POPPAEA: What's that to me, I only speak one.

SLAVE: I could teach you the other four.

POPPAEA: Not if I heard you first, you couldn't (to dealer) Now really, you know, if you can't do better than this I'll have to trade somewhere else. Anyone who has had time to learn five languages is too old for me. These are all shop-worn. I'll bet you've had every one of them a year. (She starts out)

THE SLAVE DEALER: Ah! Now I underA stand! I have exactly what you want. He is twenty-two years old and quite fresh. In fact, he's one of the freshest I've ever had. I doubt if he has ever been a slave before. Probably captured in some new conquest. And as he came to us with a new consignment from Greece this morning he may know some of their dances. (A beautiful, insolent youth is brought forward. Poppaea is roused from her boredom by his easy grace and splendid carriage. He returns her admiring gaze. The dealer rattles on) He is in excellent condition and should last you a long time if you take good care of him. But, of course, he's very expensive,— five thousand sesterces!

POPPAEA: (to the slave) What is your name ?

THE SLAVE: Rufrius.

POPPAEA: Can you dance?

RUFRIUS: That depends on who wants to buy me.

POPPAEA: (angrily) I am thinking of

buying you. (She drops the veil from her face) What can you do?

RUFRIUS: (overcome by her beauty) lean make love!

POPPAEA: In the Greek or the Roman fashion?

RUFRIUS: Roman, Calydonian, Bythinian, Egyptian—it's all one to me. I attended prep school at Lampsacus. I took post graduate honours at the Collegium Amatorium in Corinth. Since then—

POPPAEA: (raises her veil and turns to the dealer) You may send this one up to the Palace on approval.

THE SLAVE DEALER: (prostrates himself) Yes, madame,—but you will remember the price—

POPPAEA; Oh, forget the price. If I decide to keep him, charge him to pater; P. Cornelius Scipio, XXIII Appian Way, apartment IV. Ring bell No. 9. (She turns on her heel, mounts her chariot, picks up the reinsr opens the exhaust wide and gives her the gas)

II

WEEK later. The scene disclosed is the interior court of a Roman home of great magnificence. In the center of the court is a purple pool, fragrant with lotos flowers. At the side of the pool are a table and chairs. On the table a decanter of wine and glasses. In the background, seated on the floor, three slaves are playing Roman Jazz on stringed instruments. Poppaea and Rufrius have been dancing together for hours. He is teaching her the Attic Toddle. Finally they stop, breathless. Then Rufrius gathers her slowly into his arms and attempts to kiss her. After a moment she pushes him away.

POPPAEA: (dreamingly) You know, dear, you are the most expensive slave Ihaveeverhad.

RUFRIUS: (smiling) Yes, I am rather,—dear.

POPPAEA: And you will obey all of my orders ?

RUFRIUS: Of course.

POPPAEA: Then, you are going to be married to me to-morrow.

RUFRIUS: And what will Rome say,— marrying your slave?

POPPAEA: I should worry, what Rome says! (They kiss and the Roman jazz plays on. At this juncture Poppaea's mother, Sabina, enters and stops in horror at the sight of her daughter in the arms of a mere slave)

SABINA : Poppaea!

POPPAEA: (looks up at her mother) Is that you, mater? Yes, to be sure it is. (turns back to Rufrius)

SABINA: Poppaea! Are you mad, kissing a slave! This must stop!

POPPAEA: (patiently turns to her mother so that she may reason gently with her) It's not going to stop, mater. It has just started.

SABINA: (hurls herself at the pair and tears them apart) It is going to stop, I tell you. All Rome is talking about you and your slave. You were seen alone with him in a box at the Coliseum watching the gladiators yesterday.

POPPAEA: Yes. It was frightfully dull. I was bored stiff. They had a lot of starved martyrs there and they wouldn't put up any fight at all. They actually stood and let the gladiators hack them to pieces.

SABINA: (enraged) Last week your father had to pay to bury all those citizens your horses killed in the street.

POPPAEA: That's just like our city departments. Why don't they have an efficient traffic squad ?

SABINA: You've kept those slaves playing jazz for you now, day and night, until their fingers are bleeding and worn to the bone.

POPPAEA: Yes, mater. And when their fingers are completely gone I'll sell those musicians and buy some new ones. Besides, the nearer the bone the sweeter the meat.

SABINA: (in a towering rage) I've forbidden your father to pay for this slave. You're going to send him back to the dealer at once.

POPPAEA: NO, mater, I'm going to marry him at once.

SABINA: (sinks in a chair in despair) By all the gods! (She covers her face with her hands) To think that I should see my family socially disgraced!

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POPPAEA: Perhaps I can arrange it so that you won't, dearie. (While her mother rocks to and fro with her face covered, Poppaea quickly opens the top of her signet ring and empties some powder from it into a wine glass. Then she pours in some wine and takes the glass to her mother) Here, mater, have your five o'clock Falernian and brace up. (Sabina takes the glass automatically. Poppaea continues, nonchalantly) You see, mater, I love Rufrius and I insist on marrying for love, at any rate, for my first husband. Another time I'll be willing to marry for some better reason.

SABINA: (drains the glass and hurls it in anger on the floor, where it breaks into the usual thousand pieces) So long as I live you will not marry him!

POPPAEA: NO, mater, probably not. You've just had a nice drink of hemlock and you'll be dead in a few minutes.

SABINA: (in horror) What! Horrors! Unnatural child! You've murdered your mother!

POPPAEA: Yes, cara mater. When a modern mother tries to tell her debutante daughter what she can or cannot do, somebody has got to die!

SABINA: (shouting) Help! Help! Murder! My feet are going to sleep! I am dying! Murderer! (A number of slaves come rushing in and carry her out shrieking. Rufrius and Poppaea stand smiling at each other until the screams of agony die out)

RUFRIUS: (tenderly) Darling! You were willing to murder your mother for the sake of your slave.

POPPAEA: Yes, my beloved!

RUFRIUS: (with a smile) But it's all rather a joke, you know. Asa matter of fact, I'm really a Roman gentleman and my father has made millions running a gladiatorial supply company.

POPPAEA:(dreamily) You poor fish, don't you think I knew that? Do you think I'm enough of an idiot to marry a real slave ? I recognized you from the first. You're Rufrius Crispinus. I've seen your picture lots of times in the rotogravure section of "Rus et Urbe."

RUFRIUS: But you needn't have murdered your mater, then.

POPPAEA: Oh, well, she had to die some day. And I wanted to show you, by some really grand gesture, how much I loved you. But, tell me, dear, how did you happen to go to that awful slave market?

RUFRIUS: (smiling) Well, that's rather a joke, too. You see, I am at college in Athens. And, one night, a couple of weeks ago, a bunch of us students got frightfully tight, and the last I remember we were walking arm in arm down the Via Primrosa.

POPPAEA: Oh, yes, I know; some of that rah rah stuff,—Aristophanes' frogs, all over again,—Brek e ke kex koex koex,—then what happened?

RUFRIUS: That's all I remember.

When I woke up I was in a galley, chained to an oar. Luckily, I found we were bound for Rome. I thought I'd see what would happen—and, just then, you came along.

POPPAEA: Kismet! (They kiss again)

A SLAVE: (enters) Excuse me, Poppaea Sabina, but the slave dealer wants to know if you have decided to keep the slave sent on approval.

POPPAEA:(raising her head from Rufrius' shoulder) Tell the dealer that I've found a very good place for him, and that, thus far, his work is very satisfactory.