Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Imperial Women
of Rome
Power, Gender, Context
z
MARY T. BOATWRIGHT
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1
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DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190455897.001.0001
1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2
To my family:
To those no longer with us—Boat and Billy, Bill, Jack and Dorsey,
and to the present and future—Paul, Sammy,
Joseph, Amelia, and Isaac.
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Table of Contents
Acknowledgments ix
Abbreviations xi
Map: The World of Rome’s Imperial Women xiv
Acknowledgments
Writing this book has been a great pleasure. Duke University’s generous
research funding enabled assistance from keen-eyed students including Melissa
Huber, Adrian Linden-High, Elizabeth Needham, Evangeline Marecki, Michael
Freeman, and Zihan Chu (my genealogical wizard), as well as supported the
book’s illustrations and maps. My department encouraged me to teach semi-
nars that improved my knowledge and understanding specifically and generally,
from Mack Zalin’s exploration of Alexander Severus to the stunning team-based
Claudium project by Adrian High, Katelin McCullough, Henrietta Miers,
Mariangela Morelli, and Crystal Terry. Most recently, a first-year undergraduate
seminar in 2019 on “Imperial Women of Rome” reminded me—yet again—of
the vital importance of clarity, conviction, and absurdity.
Many others have provided support, suggested different avenues to explore,
or reviewed parts of my work. Absolving all for my infelicities and omissions,
I thank here Richard Talbert, Eve D’Ambra, Judith Evans Grubbs, Emily
Hemelrijk, Tom McGinn, Corey Brennan, Clare Woods, Lucrezia Ungaro,
Cynthia Bannon, Jeremy Hartnett, and Kent Rigsby. Stefan Vranka has been a
patient and encouraging editor. Roger Ulrich generously provided the beautiful
image of Sabina as Ceres from Ostia, and Susan Wood helped locate a photo of
Matidia the Younger. I am grateful to countless others for guidance and interest
over the years.
I profited enormously from testing select topics in papers whose lively inter-
locutors encouraged me to refine or broaden my arguments. At the Classical
Association of the Midwest and South I presented “Domitia Longina and the
Criminality of Imperial Roman Women.” Signe Krag and Sara Ringsborg kindly
invited me to a conference in Aarhus, Denmark, on women and children on
Palmyrene funerary reliefs (part of the Palmyra Portrait Project), allowing me
to focus on the exemplarity of the imperial family. At the Women’s Classical
Caucus panel at the Society for Classical Studies I spoke on “Imperial Mothers
and Daughters in Second-Century Rome.” Lucrezia Ungaro’s gracious invitation
x
x Acknowledgments
Tolly Boatwright
Durham, NC
30 June 2020
xi
Abbreviations
For ancient literary works I follow the abbreviations of the most recent
Oxford Classical Dictionary other than using “HA” for Historia Augusta rather
than “SHA” for Scriptores Historiae Augustae, as the work is sometimes called.
Cassius Dio poses special challenges because of the fragmented status of his text,
and for convenience I use the book, chapter, and section numbering of the Loeb
edition by E. Cary, Dio’s Roman History (London and Cambridge, MA, 1914–27).
xii Abbreviations
If the Roman princeps was first among equals, what position and visibility
did an imperial woman have? Livia, Plotina, and a few other imperial women
are celebrated for unwavering support of their emperor and empire;1 Agrippina
the Younger and Julia Domna are branded as impudently attempting to assert
autonomy and exercise authority; a handful, most notoriously Julia the Elder and
Messalina, are luridly depicted as sexually insatiable and manipulative of their
exalted positions. Most, however, are more indistinct, as Faustina the Elder, a
cipher despite her numerous posthumous portrait coins; Sabina, chameleon-like
in her varied portrait statues and lack of presence; or Lucilla and Crispina, mere
wraiths overshadowed by Commodus. Considered over time and as a whole,
however, these and other women closely connected to the emperors illuminate
Roman history and afford us glimpses of fascinating and demanding lives.
From its informal and gradual establishment by Augustus (30s BCE–14 CE)
through the end of Severan rule (235 CE), the Roman empire oversaw Rome’s far-
flung and diverse peoples, religions, languages, and needs. The political system in this
period essentially centered on one man, the princeps, whose eminence and author-
ity were based on asserted Republican precedents and vaguely defined powers.
Successful, evolving, and often self-contradictory, this principate was an unofficial
dynastic system. The second-century Appian saw Augustus’ changes as establishing
“a family dynasty to succeed him and to enjoy a power similar to his own” (App.
B Civ. 1.5), although Augustus’ apparent claim to have restored the Republic was
often repeated.2 Many others similarly recognized the significance of family, and
especially of the women related to the Roman princeps by blood or marriage.
1. For the dates and relations of these and other imperial women I discuss, see Appendix 1.
2. RGDA 34.1; Vell. Pat. 2.89.3; ILS 8393 = EDCS-60700127, lines 35–36; see Edmondson
2009, 197–202.
Imperial Women of Rome. Mary T. Boatwright, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2021.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190455897.003.0001
2
2 Imperi al Wo men of Ro me
their activities and visibility over time. These emerge more clearly from a compre-
hensive view spanning from the establishment of the principate in the 30s BCE
by Octavian, with his sister Octavia and his wife Livia, to its violent interruption
in 235 CE by the mutinous murder of Severus Alexander and his mother Julia
Mamaea.
The lives and experiences of imperial women were shaped by custom and
law, the exigencies and failures of the evolving new regime, and the person-
ality, health, and luck of the individuals themselves. The last is the hardest
to document and explore even for the best-attested women, although I signal
such fascinating particulars in the vignettes that open each chapter. The main
aim of my book, however, is to present chronologically the mores, laws, and
evolving structures of the most significant functions and venues of Rome’s
imperial women. Ch. 1, circling around Livia, probes the powers imperial
women were granted or thought to have. In Ch. 2 we turn to Roman law and
its impact on imperial women. Ch. 3 inspects, within the wider context of the
Roman family, the growing importance of the imperial family as an institu-
tion. Ch. 4 explores imperial women’s involvement in religious activities of the
principate: here, as throughout this book, I prefer the terms divus and diva to
“deified” or “divinized.”5 In Ch. 5 we survey the imprint imperial women made
on the capital city of Rome through their movements and presence as well as
by monuments associated with them. The briefer Ch. 6 looks at a related type
of public modeling, imperial women’s representation through sculpture and
relief. Ch. 7 explores the connections of our women to Rome’s military forces
and the provinces.
My substantive chapters thus begin and end with activities that Romans
considered most inappropriate for women—politics and the military—ones
with which imperial women’s visibility was most shocking. Furthermore, as the
Severan women were especially associated with Rome’s armed forces, the arc of my
book is generally chronological, starting with Livia and ending with the Severans.
Within chapters I also tend to proceed chronologically: although Rome’s deep-
rooted traditionalism means that women are often presented in timeless tropes,
one goal of my book is to evaluate change over time. We discuss those changes in
Ch. 8, my conclusions.
As we see repeatedly in this book, imperial women’s eminence was con-
tingent on their relationship to the emperor and the imperial house. This
5. For the term divus, see, e.g., Price 1987, 77; Woolf 2008, 242. This chapter is longer than oth-
ers because a traditional sphere of Roman women’s activity was religious, and because it also
reviews using coins as evidence.
4
4 Imperi al Wo men of Ro me
6. See, e.g., Hekster 2015 on emperors’ erratic practices regarding dynastic genealogies.
7. See, e.g., Wallace-Hadrill 1996; Winterling 1999; Pani 2003.
8. Cass. Dio 55.16.1–2; see Adler 2011a, 145; Purcell 1986, 93; Ch. 1 below. A different perspec-
tive is provided in Vitellius’ speech to the senate urging that marriage between uncle and niece
(Claudius and Agrippina) be allowed because an emperor’s wife helps the state by freeing his
mind from domestic cares (Tac. Ann. 12.5).
9. Cass. Dio 57.12.3. Later, when detailing the worsening relations of Agrippina and Nero
and reporting that Agrippina said to her son, “It was I who made you emperor,” Cassius Dio
adds “just as if she had the power to take away the sovereignty from him again” and notes
she was a private citizen (61.7.3; tr. Loeb). The concept of the imperial woman as “maker
of kings” may be reflected in Suetonius’ note, at the beginning of both Galba and Otho, of
the patronage of “Livia Augusta” for them when they were private citizens: Suet. Galb. 5.2,
Otho 1.1.
5
his “house” and the state (Tac. Ann. 13.4; see Ch. 3).10 Although the promise was
made to distinguish his future actions from those of Claudius, Nero could not
keep it (see, e.g., Ch. 2).
The evolving principate meant that no emperor could be isolated from the
imperial house and imperial women: even the short-lived principate of Nerva in
96–98, when the emperor was sixty-six to sixty-eight years old, saw a dedication
or statue honoring his “imperial” mother (see Ch. 3). The importance of women
for the imperial image and for legitimacy is reflected in other ways. Although
reportedly estranged from his wife Sabina, Hadrian removed from imperial serv
ice the praetorian guard prefect Septicius Clarus, the imperial secretary (and
biographer) Suetonius Tranquillus, and others, because they had interacted with
Sabina more casually than reverence for the imperial court demanded. If we can
believe the fourth-century source for this event, what provoked the emperor was
no personal affront to Sabina or Hadrian himself, but rather the slight to dynastic
courtly protocol.11 Emphasizing a different aspect of the close-knit dynastic sys-
tem of the second century, Marcus Aurelius allegedly averred that if he divorced
Faustina the Younger, his wife and the daughter of his predecessor Antoninus
Pius, he would have to give back her dowry—that is, the empire.12 My book
recounts many other acknowledgments of women’s importance to the imperial
house and imperial stability.
Yet we also see numerous criticisms of imperial women on various grounds,
in fact disproportionately to the general scarcity of evidence for these women. As
the above examples suggest, most literary information about imperial women is
presented to illustrate imperial men and their decisions, not the women them-
selves.13 Rome’s patriarchal order was emphasized particularly strongly in the
imperial house. A woman’s failings reflected on her husband, father, or another
10. non enim se negotiorum omnium iudicem fore, ut clausis unam intra domum accusatoribus et
reis paucorum potentia grassaretur; nihil in penatibus suis venale aut ambitioni pervium; discre-
tam domum et rem publicam. When Nero acted to reduce Agrippina’s power he removed her
from his house (domus) and transferred her to the one Antonia had owned (Tac. Ann. 13.18).
11. HA, Hadr. 11.2: familiarius se tunc egerant quam reverentia domus aulicae postulabat.
Scholars debate the particulars of this incident, usually assumed as 122 and in Britain: see esp.
Birley 1997, 138–41, and 333 n.26; Fündling 2006, 581–88.
12. HA, Marc. 19.8–9. See Wallinger 1990, 47–51. Burrus earlier expressed the idea when trying
to restrain Nero from divorcing Octavia, Claudius’ daughter (Cass. Dio 62.13.2).
13. For instance, a passage emphasizing Domitian’s vicious unpredictability notes incidentally
that Julia, the daughter of Titus, nominated Lucius Julius Ursus as consul for 84 CE (Cass.
Dio 67.4.2). Similarly, the report that Vitellius’ wife Galeria Fundana saved the consul Galerius
Trachalus from execution in 68 stresses not her bravery, but rather the savage volatility of the
early Vitellian reign when no effective emperor had control (Tac. Hist. 2.60.2).
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6 Imperi al Wo men of Ro me
man responsible for her: for instance, Messalina’s sexual escapades serve to under-
line Claudius’ lack of control. Further, imperial women’s propinquity to the most
powerful man in Rome apparently caused others to view them distrustfully and,
as we see in Ch. 1 and elsewhere, unusually targeted some women as peddling
influence and imperial favors. Despite such biases and other source problems,
discussed further later and in individual chapters, enough evidence remains for
Rome’s imperial women to allow us to trace, over time, the actions and roles of
various ones in various contexts, and to illuminate a number of different fea-
tures of the principate. Sir Ronald Syme once wrote, seemingly in remorse for
the topic, “Women have their uses for historians” (Syme 1986, 169). My study, in
contrast, examines imperial women as worthy subjects in themselves, as well as
for the insight their reported activities provide for the history of imperial Rome
as a whole.
My chapters open with a vignette about a particular imperial woman or
women engaged in some activity or situation relating to that chapter’s larger
issues, to remind us that these were real individuals in heady circumstances and
under intense scrutiny and pressure. My focus on those at the top of Rome’s cen-
ter of power, however, means less attention to other aspects of the principate.
I cannot address fundamental topics such as the vast numbers of enslaved and
freed, even those serving imperial women; imperial relations with provincials
and the poor; and administrative and military hierarchies below the very highest
level, especially in the provinces. Such topics appear occasionally—for example,
Ch. 7 includes a section on the provincial travels of imperial women—but it
would be a different, less focused book to have explored them as well as imperial
women. Nonetheless, the book as a whole should contribute to our understand-
ing of larger-scale structures and changes in the principate, even while it brings to
life some of the intriguing women who witnessed Rome’s history in the making
even if they did not personally direct the course of events.
Tacitus and other Roman historians appear frequently in what follows, but
I turn also to legal codes, coins, inscriptions, and other sources less familiar to
the general reader. The literary accounts are usually inadequate and often ten-
dentious.14 Generally, what interested most ancient historians of the principate
were the emperor, the men around him, and political and military affairs, and
they were generally indifferent to women and children, especially girls.15 Even
14. A further complication is the restricted access to information Cassius Dio laments for the
principate (53.19).
15. The rare reports about a child usually presage the later behavior of a notable man, as when
Suetonius details Nero’s childhood and musical training (Nero 6, 20).
7
16. Fast. Praen. ad 23 April = EDCS-38000281; Tac. Ann. 3.64.2; discussed further in Ch. 5.
17. See, e.g., the jealousy and animosity of Livia, Agrippina the Elder toward Munatia Plancina,
and Messalina: Tac. Ann. 2.43, 11.1, and 11.3; Cass. Dio 58.22.5; Ch. 2 below.
18. A good instance is Tac. Ann. 13.19: after Nero snubbed Agrippina late in 54 no one visited
her other than a few women, “unclear whether from love or hate,” then exemplified by a long
discussion about one such visitor, Junia Silana, and her insults from Messalina and Agrippina.
19. My index also references each site by grid square on my map. I follow the same identifying
principle about toponyms in Appendix 3, but cannot include all those sites on my map. In a few
instances I also use modern terms, such as the Balkans.
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8 Imperi al Wo men of Ro me
chapter. Appendix 1, “Imperial Women and Their Life Events,” notes full names
and information for the imperial women discussed in my book;20 Appendix 2
presents four genealogical trees: the Julio-Claudian Family, the Flavian Family,
the Second-Century Imperial Family, and the Severan Family. Appendix 3 is a
chronological list of consecrated imperial women with the major references for
the cult of each, which is complemented by a short, unreferenced list of conse-
crated imperial men until 235 CE.
I have adopted the following conventions for dates and names. Unless other-
wise remarked, all dates are CE, that is “from the Common Era,” and in passages
that might otherwise be confusing I note BCE (Before the Common Era) and/
or CE. Other than in Appendix 1 I use the names by which my subjects are gen-
erally known, including familiar renditions such as Julia and Gaius (rather than
Iulia and Caius). This can pose a challenge: for example Livia, Augustus’ wife and
prototypical imperial woman, had the full name “Livia Drusilla,” which officially
changed to “Iulia Augusta” ( Julia Augusta) after Augustus’ testamentary adop-
tion of her in 14 CE. Unless the discussion might become unclear I use the name
chronologically appropriate to the argument at hand, a practice I use when refer-
ring to Rome’s first emperor now known as Octavian (Gaius Julius Octavianus)
during his rise to power in the 40s and 30s BCE, but as Augustus (Imperator
Caesar Augustus) after consolidation of that power in 27 BCE. Otherwise I use
the commonly accepted names for emperors—for example, Vespasian, rather
than “Imperator Titus Flavius Vespasianus Caesar,” and Severus Alexander, rather
than his birth name “Bassianus Alexianus,” or “Imperator Caesar Marcus Aurelius
Severus Alexander Augustus, son of Publius,” his name often cited in inscrip-
tions from his reign. I generally use the full name the first time an individual is
mentioned in a chapter, but thereafter the person’s more common referent or a
shortened form. Ch. 2, for example, begins by discussing the wife of Domitian
as “Domitia Longina,” but then usually refers to her as Domitia. Severan women
appear as Julia Domna, Julia Maesa, Julia Soaemias, and Julia Mamaea when first
introduced in a chapter, but thereafter usually as Domna, Maesa, Soaemias, and
Mamaea. Other than in tables where space is at a premium, I use “the Elder” and
“the Younger” rather than “I” and “II” (or maior and minor).
When referring to primary sources, I quote Latin and Greek mainly when
making an argument about the content, bias, or reliability of a passage. When cit-
ing inscriptions I generally provide the original reference in Corpus Inscriptionum
Latinarum (CIL) or the like, supplemented whenever possible with the
20. Since there I also give references to FOS or another prosopographical source, I do not
repeat such references when discussing an individual in the narrative.
9
21. Metcalf 2012, 3–11, provides an excellent introduction to numismatics. RIC is the reference
used in OCRE or Online Coins of the Roman Empire, http://numismatics.org/ocre/.
22. See, e.g., Hekster 2015, 6, 30–32. That the imperial mint for gold and silver was established
first at Lugdunum (modern Lyon, France) around 14/12 BCE (Strabo 4.192) is immaterial to
my argument.
23. I use the term “exemplarity” in this book to mean deliberate showcasing as a model rather
than typicality or worthiness as a model.
10
1. For instance, Tacitus concludes the section with vetus mos fuerit (2.34), comparing Urgulania’s
arrogance to earlier womanly deference even of the high-placed Vestal Virgins.
2. In brief for Piso, see PIR 2nd ed. C 290; for Plautia Urgulania, PIR V 684; RE Suppl.
9.1868-9 (Hanslik). Her granddaughter, Plautia Urgulanilla, was Claudius’ first wife, married
almost certainly before 14 CE and divorced 24–27 (FOS #619). For Tacitus’ passage, see, e.g.,
Goodyear 1981, 293–95 ad loc., and Barrett 2002, 165–67.
3. Part of her official name after her testamentary adoption by Augustus in 14. See more later.
4. quamquam Augusta se violari et imminui quereretur. Goodyear 1981, 293–94 clarifies the
legal situation and Urgulania’s provocation (had she stayed in her own house, she would have
been safe from his threats); he also notes imminuo as “peculiarly Tacitean.”
Imperial Women of Rome. Mary T. Boatwright, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2021.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190455897.003.0002
1
last “Augusta” ordered that the disputed money be given to Piso. Two books later,
when reporting a trial against Piso for maiestas in 24 CE (Ann. 4.21),5 Tacitus
recalls the incident by noting that Piso earlier “had dared to drag Urgulania into
court, scorning the power of the Augusta, and to rouse Urgulania out from the
house of the princeps” (Ann. 4.21.1).6
In these two passages Tacitus credits Julia Augusta, the prototypical impe-
rial woman in Tacitus and others, with “power” (potentia, 4.21.1) as he factually
reports that her friendship had raised Urgulania “above the laws” (2.34).7 Julia
Augusta’s reported complaint, that she was being “violated” and diminished by
Piso’s actions (2.34), uses a particularly strong verb (violare) and echoes the lan-
guage of offenses against maiestas,8 an association underscored by the passages’
repeated references to the imperial house (domum Caesaris, 2.34; domo principis,
4.21: see Ch. 2 and Ch. 3). Tacitus’ narrative thus highlights “power” associated
with this first imperial woman, even though he does not detail what that power
was or how she had gained it.
Most readers of this and analogous passages of Tacitus and other Roman
historians have noted the striking ways in which ancient authors remark on and
narrate women’s proximity and claims to power, termed potentia, imperium, dom-
inatio, exousia, or some other word.9 S. Benoist (2015), J. Ginsburg (2006), and
F. Santoro L’Hoir (1994) are only a few of the many who have illuminated various
ways in which ancient authors convey that women’s power was dangerous and an
inversion of proper norms. I do not need to make those arguments again. Rather,
this chapter aims to distinguish the power or powers an imperial woman could
and did command individually, institutionally, or both. Certainly by the begin-
ning of the second century, when Suetonius reports Tiberius’ taunt to Agrippina
the Elder, “If you do not rule, my daughter, do you think you’re being injured?”
(Suet. Tib. 53.1), it was generally assumed that imperial women desired domina-
tion and would arrogate it whenever possible.
5. Martin and Woodman 1989, 152 ad Ann. 4.21.2 remark that Tacitus’ term in the passage,
adversum maiestatem, is “most unusual” and Tiberii is probably to be supplied.
6. spreta potentia Augustae trahere in ius Urgulaniam domoque principis excire ausus est.
7. For Tacitus’ use of potentia, auctoritas, dominatio, and other such terms with women, see
Santoro L’Hoir 1994. In 2.34 Tacitus credits Urgulania also with potentia.
8. E.g., Barrett 2002, 166 and note 65. Velleius uses violare and cognates when holding that
Augustus’ house was defiled by the adulterous Julia the Elder (2.100.4–5), and Tacitus later
uses violata maiestas when discussing the adulteries of Augustus’ daughter and granddaughter
(Ann. 3.24.2): see Ch. 2.
9. Such as Tac. Ann. 12.7, his signal passage on Rome’s complete upheaval by Agrippina the
Younger’s marriage to Claudius and devotion to domination (dominatio) and money: see Ch. 5.
12
12 Imperi al Wo men of Ro me
Much of this chapter revolves around Livia, who spent over sixty years next to
an emperor, first her husband and then her son. When Octavian took and con-
solidated power in the 30s and 20s BCE, Livia was simply his aristocratic second
wife, one of a number of women known from the highest ranks of Republican
Rome.10 But she became extraordinarily eminent in Rome, as Cassius Dio
remarks two centuries later while discussing Tiberius’ accessibility and modesty
at the time of his accession in 14 CE:
No documented letters from Tiberius bear also her name, and no known commu-
nications are addressed to both alike.12 It is vital to keep actual behavior distinct
from alleged arrogance and assertiveness as reported by Cassius Dio, Tacitus, and
others. Cassius Dio’s assessment directly compares Livia to “women of former
days,” so we start there.
A few earlier and contemporary women are noted for direct or indirect
involvement in the turbulent political events. In many cases they were held to
10. See Perkounig 1995. Livia maintained friendships with other women besides Urgulania,
such as Mutilia Prisca (Tac. Ann. 4.12). In contrast, Agrippina the Younger’s isolation is noted
(Tac. Ann. 13.19).
11. Excerpts from Cassius Dio’s Claudian history repeat for Agrippina a similar report, that
she used to greet in public all who desired it and this was entered in the records (60.33.1). This
boldness is greater than that of Julia Augusta, since Agrippina was in public. See Ch. 5.
12. The few surviving communications concerning both parties, such as the letter about reli-
gious honors from Gytheion (Gytheio, Greece), go to Tiberius, who responds that the peti-
tioners can contact Julia Augusta (see Ch. 4).
Another random document with
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“If I do not hurry and find Globicephalous, this house of safety may
become a house of death,” Pinocchio began to think after lying still a
long time. “Perhaps if I try I may be able to walk around like a hermit
crab. Let me see.”
Slowly the marionette stuck out first one leg, then another; then his
arms came out, and lastly his head appeared. Holding the shell with
both hands he tried to walk around.... Impossible. After a few steps
he was exhausted.
“Too bad! It is so comfortable here! If only I had a horse! ’Twould be
like riding in a carriage!”
While he was thinking thus, he saw not far away four fish like the
ones he had seen under the hammerhead. An idea flashed through
his head.
“Oh, if I only could!... The horses!...” he whispered.
Trying very hard, he succeeded in dragging himself near them. The
fish were very busy. They were looking for small crabs to eat, and
paid no attention to him. Trembling in every limb, Pinocchio went on.
As soon as he was near them, he bent over slowly. How kind the
little fish were! As soon as they felt the shell on their heads they
stuck to it. Just what Pinocchio wanted! In a moment he felt himself
rising in the air, or rather in the water. The remoras were strong and
pulled him along swiftly.
“Hurrah! Here I am in a flying machine!” screamed Pinocchio,
clapping his hands. “I feel like a prince, and not even a king has a
carriage like mine! Hurrah!”
CHAPTER IX
Pinocchio forgot all his troubles, and was full of fun and mischief.
Grasping a long thin seaweed and using it as a whip, he went gaily
along.
“Up, up, my little horses! Trot, trot,—gallop, gallop,” he
sang at the top of his voice.
The fishes obeyed him well and in a short time they
had gone a long way. Pinocchio soon became so bold
that he whipped a dory which was passing by, pulled a
horrible bullhead by the tail, and slapped a red mullet
that was studying him with interest.
Meanwhile the horses ran and ran, wherever they
wished. Soon Pinocchio saw that they were near the surface of the
water.
“‘Up, Up, my Little Horses!’”
“When I reach the top, I shall be able to see where I am. I will then
swim to the coral reef and find Globicephalous,” he thought.
But on the surface of the water such a surprise was awaiting him that
he forgot all about coral reefs or dolphins.
All around him mushrooms were hanging. They were of all shapes
and sizes, and of a hundred beautiful colors. Some had round
heads, which looked like soap bubbles. Some looked like inverted
glass bells; others like brightly colored umbrellas. Still others seemed
to be made of emeralds and sapphires. From all of them, long
beautiful silvery threads hung down into the water. The waves
moved them about, and the sun playing with them made them look
like so many rainbows.
Pinocchio was amazed at so much beauty. As far as eye could reach
he could see only these beautiful objects. It was a sight to arouse
wonder in any one.
“I wish some one were here to tell me what those wonderful things
are!” he thought.
What so attracted Pinocchio were medusæ. They also are animals
belonging to the zoöphytes.
These medusæ have no solid parts and cannot live out of the water.
If taken out and left in the sun they dry up and soon nothing is left of
them. Some of them are as small as a penny, and others are very
large.
“If I could only take one,” sighed Pinocchio, hanging way out of his
shell in his efforts to touch them.
His four horses, as if to satisfy him, came near to the medusæ in
order to eat a few. The marionette tried to imitate them, but he had
no sooner touched them than he let go very quickly.
“Oh, oh!” he cried, shaking his hands, “they prick like so many
nettles.”
He did not know it, but he had used the right words. In fact,
fishermen often call medusæ sea nettles.
“My dear mushroom rainbows,” he said, bowing low, “you may be
very beautiful, but you are not for me. Good-by.”
Just then the fishes reached the
surface of the water. But they did not
stay there long. A fearful storm was
rising. Great black clouds hung low,
almost touching the water.
The waves were white and ragged
and lashed angrily. The medusæ had
disappeared. Very gladly Pinocchio
cuddled in his shell, and very happy
he was when he found himself again
at the bottom of the sea.
There all was calm. For, strange to
say, even though the most terrible
tempest may rage on the sea, deep
down in it the water is always calm.
“How lucky it is that I did not start to
swim,” thought Pinocchio. “I should have been killed surely.”
On and on the fishes went. But finally they became tired and stopped
near a rock. Here were some of the most beautiful shells imaginable.
After resting awhile the fish continued their journey. Pinocchio went
along happily.
For a time he seemed to have forgotten what danger he was in. He
let himself be carried along without a thought of the future.
The party was now passing through the midst of a great number of
eels. Who does not know an eel? Even Pinocchio knew them.
He might, however, have very easily mistaken a common eel for a
conger eel, or for a burbot, sometimes called ling. It was this
ignorance of his which led him into trouble.
To him the eels were all alike. So he pulled the tail of one, pinched
another’s round body, or shook a third one by the nose. The poor
things turned and struggled. But this only afforded greater fun for
Pinocchio.
But, oh! He had no sooner touched a large red eel’s tail, than he
gave a scream of pain. His shouts of laughter were changed to
moans, and in his struggles the marionette fell out of the shell and
tumbled on the sand.
“Help! Help! I am dying! Some one has killed me!” howled Pinocchio,
so loudly that he could have been heard a mile away.
“Who is howling so? What is happening down there?” a deep voice
called.
Pinocchio heard nothing. He could only think of his pain, and
scream. He made such a noise that even the deaf could hear him.
“Well, may I know what has happened?” called the same voice,
nearer now. “Why, it is Mr. Pinocchio!”
The words were uttered by a large dolphin with a head as round as
an electric light globe. That dolphin was Globicephalous.
“You mean I was Pinocchio. Now I am dead, so I am no longer
Pinocchio.”
“Why, what has happened to you?”
“‘Help! Help! I am Dying!’”
Yes, that mischief maker, seeing the eel again, thought he would
play a trick on the poor dolphin.
Tursio, hearing the screams, had come nearer.
“The electric eel! You poor boy! How you must suffer!”
“Luckily the eel was asleep, so I had no great shock.”
“Yes, luckily. When it is asleep, it does not hurt much.”
“But how did you ever get near him?”
“Why, Pinocchio—” and then he stopped. Why should he tell? But he
was too late.
“Oh, that Pinocchio. Well, remember, marionette, usually one gets
paid in his own coin. Now you look tired. Stop stretching yourself and
go to sleep.”
“Very well, Mr. Tursio,” came meekly from Pinocchio. “But may I ask
a favor of you?”
“What is it?”
“Seeing that we are near the island, may I sleep there to-night? I
found a small cave there this morning, and it looked comfortable.
May I, Mr. Tursio?”
“Why, surely, my boy.”
“Thank you. But will you please sleep near? I should feel better if I
knew you were near.”
“Very well, my lion tamer.”
Globicephalous then took Pinocchio on his back and rose with him to
the surface.
“I wonder what those two dolphins are talking about,” he thought,
seeing Tursio and Marsovino whispering together.
Tursio seemed little pleased. Marsovino was begging for something.
Finally the good old dolphin smiled an unwilling “yes” to his pupil.
“It may teach him a lesson,” Pinocchio heard Tursio say, and he
wondered at the words. Soon he forgot all about them.
“Good-night,” he called, jumping on land and disappearing into the
cave.
He gathered some seaweed and made a soft bed.
“This is very good,” he said, lying down. But soon he found out that
he could not sleep.
He could not understand why. He was so tired, after two nights of
sleeplessness, but still his eyes would not close. Everything around
him was so quiet that he began to be frightened. He got up and
looked out on the sea. It was as black as ink, oh! pitch-black.
“How horrible the sea is at night,” grumbled the marionette.
“‘Good-night,’” he called.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he wished them in
again. As if the waves had taken offense at his remark, they were
suddenly turned into fire. It seemed as if millions of stars had fallen
into the sea.
Pinocchio ran out of the cave. As far as eye could reach there was
nothing but this fiery sea. The bright, shiny water rose and fell in
silvery waves. Millions of sparks were thrown up into the air and fell
back again.
“Oh! the sea is on fire,” shouted Pinocchio, and that O-o-o-o-h was
the longest that had as yet come from his mouth. “And then Mr.
Tursio tells me he is not a wizard.”
He could hardly be blamed, poor ignorant little marionette. That
scene certainly belonged more to fairyland than to real life.
It was the phosphorescence of the sea that attracted Pinocchio’s
attention. Sometimes this is so wonderfully beautiful that seen once,
it can never be forgotten.
“‘Oh! the Sea is on Fire.’”
Our wooden hero was so awe-struck at first that he could only stand
and gaze at it. Finally he gathered courage, and went nearer and
nearer the water. And when a wave touched his feet, he jumped
back for fear of being burned. But he found the water was just as
cool as before.
“Why, this fire does not burn! How queer! What can it be?”
In his ignorance he could not answer, but I shall answer for him.
The phosphorescence of the sea is produced by millions of very tiny
zoöphytes, so small that they cannot be seen with the naked eye.
These minute zoöphytes have a sheen like fireflies. When they light
up all together, they make the ocean look like a sea of molten gold.
While Pinocchio was still gazing, the fire went out just as quickly as it
had come. The night was again as dark as ink. This was not much to
the marionette’s taste, so he started back to his cave. Glancing
toward the sea again, it seemed to him that the dolphins were not in
the same place.
“I hope I’ll be able to sleep now,” he thought. “I am so tired.”
But he had hardly reached the mouth of the cave when, with a
shriek, he turned and fled. Why?
An awful, a horrible monster was hanging at the mouth of the cave. It
was more than a yard long, and with a mouth like an oven. On its
head were two long horns; and its body was shining in the night,
frightful in its shape and color. Can you imagine Pinocchio’s fright?
“A dragon!” he shrieked. “A dragon in my cave! Help! Help!”
Running madly toward the sea, he never stopped until he reached
the dolphins.
“‘A Dragon!’ he shrieked.”