CHAPTER XIX.
On the following morning, at the earliest gloaming, Quintus Claudiuswas conducted from the dungeons of the Tullianum to the undergroundcells of the Amphitheatre;[155] and with him were Cornelia and some ofthe other Nazarenes. About fifty were reserved for the last days of thefestival.
The procession of the condemned moved silently along the Via Sacra;as they passed through the arch of Titus and the yellow grey of theeastern sky fell upon their faces, they looked like a file of corpses.Cornelia was as pale as death, and her eyes looked larger than ever.Only Quintus seemed to have lost little of his handsome and elasticyouthfulness during these months of imprisonment.
The prisoners were all, without exception, calm and composed. Eventhose few who, when they first set out, had wept and lamented, soonrecovered their firmness when they saw that of their fellow-sufferers.
Cornelia herself was perfectly unmoved. Though she had no ground forthat happy assurance and sustaining comfort, which her companionsfound in their confident faith, she was invincible through herstolid contempt for life which, now that all hope was over, seemedto petrify her spirit and her senses. To live without Quintus wassimply impossible. If Fate would not relinquish this victim, if thedark sisters were inexorable to her overwhelming grief, she couldhave but one wish: to die with the man she loved. To be free fromthis torment, to vanish into nothingness; this was the one idea thatpossessed her soul. Even the horror of the last scene of all--thedishonor of standing as a spectacle to the gaping crowd, the agonizingpain under the fangs of the beasts--of all this she took no account.And so it came to pass that she, disbelieving and hopeless, she whoso lately tore her hair like one demented--now, on the road to death,bore herself as bravely as the staunchest confessors of the Redeemer;nay, more bravely than some. And the passing glance, a look from soulto soul, that she had exchanged with Quintus as they came out of theprison--the first for so many weeks--had only fanned this passionatedesire for annihilation and eternal rest to a fiercer flame.
That look had had a very different effect on her lover. Afterstruggling in the loneliness of a dark cell, and triumphing at lengthover all that could chain him to life; after a hundred victories overevery torture of mind and body, won in the glorious name of duty; thefervent Christian, who hoped confidently that the Son of God wouldsupport those who endured such dreadful torment through faith in hissufferings, and that he would, through these torments, work theirsalvation--this unwavering hero quailed as at a new grief, when hesaw the wasted form of the beautiful young girl. For the first time,since Caesar's message of impossible respite had been brought to him,the thought flashed through his brain: Three beasts! could it be hopedfor? But the flash vanished before it could dazzle him.--A gladiator'sshort blade and a Gaetulian lion! Verily it was only adding mockery tobrutality, if Caesar called this mercy!
Nevertheless the idea had found place in his mind, and though hisreason rejected it at once and absolutely, it haunted the background ofhis thoughts.
How greatly must Cornelia love him, if merely out of defiance, merelyto force him to recant, she could declare her adherence to the doomedsect, whom in her heart she scorned. What self-immolation, worthy ofthe highest crown. Or had a ray of that saving light fallen on herheart? Quintus felt it a duty to be sure on this point. Now, in theface of death, she could not deny the divine truth of the doctrine ofSalvation; if she still should do so, well, she must and should, atthat supreme moment, speak the truth--deny the faith, save her life andlearn to believe afterwards perhaps. He did not know, that Cornelia wasguilty also of attempting Caesar's life; that corrupt witnesses hadrepresented this deed, not as a desperate stroke for self-defence, butas an act of revenge for her uncle's exile, and that the verdict hadpronounced it a crime in the first degree.
When they reached the vaulted cells of the Amphitheatre, the victimswere relieved of their fetters and well supplied with food anddrink, that they might not appear too miserable in face of the finalcatastrophe; some, indeed, who refused to eat, were compelled to do soby force. After this they were left to themselves. The two exits fromthe vaults were barred and guarded on the outside.
Then many a heart-rending scene took place in those damp anddimly-lighted caverns; in every corner there was a group, whispering,praying, weeping.
On a stone bench near the chief entrance sat our worthy Diphilus, hiseyes fixed on his young wife, Euterpe, who was kneeling before him, herface hidden in his lap.
"And you forgive me?" she sobbed; "you forgive me for everything? OhI have been very wicked; I have been a miserable sinner, and do notdeserve that you should call me your wife."
Her husband gently stroked her hair, but he did not speak; he seemedlost in thought. She, however, sobbed incessantly: "Forgive me, ohforgive me!" Then clasping her hands, she prayed: "O God! All-mercifulFather, do not desert us! Have pity on Thy children for Jesus Christ'ssake! Almighty God, comfort us and have mercy on us!"
Presently she got up and sat down by the side of her speechlesshusband; she threw her arms round him and kissed him.
"Tell me," she whispered, and she shuddered, "what prayer shall I sayin the last awful moment, when they are tearing my limbs? But oh! it isimpossible; God can never leave us to die like this. No, He cannot, Hecannot. No earthly father would, why then should our Father in Heaven?Say, Diphilus, he will send us an angel to bear us away to the land ofjoy and peace? It is only to try us--say, Diphilus."
"My poor child," said Diphilus, and he broke into tears.
And then she began again, chattering in her sweet, silly way, till atlast, almost while she was speaking, her eyelids closed, and her headsank gently on his breast; she was asleep--and in a few hours her roundyoung limbs were to be mangled by beasts of prey.
There was another couple of senatorial rank there besides Quintusand Cornelia: the consul, Flavius Clemens,[156] a man of blamelesscharacter and the highest merit, and with him his noble wife. Both incalm and silent resignation had joined a group, that had gathered rounda girl of eight, who had sunk into a decline in consequence of her longimprisonment. Her father, an artisan from the Subura, had carried thepoor child in his arms from one prison to the other. She was now halfsitting and leaning against the wall, looking round her with large,ghastly-bright eyes, while her father held her hands and listened toher words as though they were a revelation from Heaven.
"Do not cry, father dear," she said coaxingly. "That good angel, thathas so often come to me, will not have your Cynthia torn by lions. Heis coming to fetch me away. There--there--where the wall is open andyou see the blue sky through--he is there in the sunshine."
A faint smile fleeted across the wasted face, transient and melancholyas the last rosy hue of an autumn sunset. She closed her eyes, butopened them again at once in rapt ecstasy.
"Good-night, father," she said with a sigh. "I am going first, up intothat bright and glorious heaven. When the time comes, and your heart isbreaking with terror and pain, remember me, father, and do not forgetthat I shall be praying to God to give you strength and courage tothe last. Oh father, I thank you too for having loved me so much, andfor having taught me to know the Saviour, and taken care of me in allyour trouble. And I thank you too, dear good friends, and I will prayto God for you all as well. What a glorious sight! I can see far, faraway into the gates of light. Yes, Angel of Hope, I am ready to followyou. Kiss me, father, once more, for He has got my hand--He is flying,dragging me up--up...." her arms fell into her lap, and she sigheddeeply. Then she lay still, as if she had gone to sleep.
"Cynthia, my child!" cried the father, and with a loud sob he pressedthe cold, slender hands to his furrowed face.
"She is dead!" he said. "God's mercy has spared her the worst."
The by-standers, who had so victoriously lived down their ownsufferings, stood deeply moved at the sight of the gentle, innocentcreature, that had been held captive like a criminal, and almostliterally tortured to death.
"It is well with her!" said F
lavius Clemens, clasping his weeping wifein his arms.
Calmer than all else, as it appeared, was the half-whispered dialoguebetween Quintus and Cornelia. Each was endeavoring to utter what wasbursting their hearts, but in as indifferent a tone and with as littlegesture as possible, so as not to attract the attention of theirfellow-prisoners.
"Listen, Cornelia," whispered Quintus, hardly daring to open his lips."You are here solely in the hope of urging me to recant. It is nottrue, that you are really condemned to death?"
Cornelia looked him in the lace with a bitter smile.
"Of urging you to recant?" she repeated slowly. "Alas! if anysufferings of mine could have softened your heart, we should never havecome to this! Why, you would see me torn to pieces ten times over bywild beasts, before you would yield a jot of what you call the truth.No, Quintus, it is quite true. You did not care to live with yourdevoted Cornelia--very good; then if you must suffer death, Corneliadies too. It is as simple as a nursery rhyme."
Quintus shuddered.
"But could any one condemn you?" he said. "You are not one of the sect."
"I pronounced myself guilty--and they believed me."
"Then you deceived your judges. Or has what was untrue become the truthby the force of conviction?"
Cornelia haughtily shook her head.
"My dearest," said Quintus, hardly able to control his grief, "you aredestroying my last hope of comfort. Ah Cornelia! if we could but havedied united in a common faith! But as it is, woe to us both, Cornelia;your death is in itself a sin."
"You alone are guilty of it."
"I!" cried Quintus, in utter despair; his voice spoke grief too greatfor words, and Cornelia's eyes humbly implored forgiveness.
"But how can I force my heart to submit?" she said as gently as anill-used child. "Can I wish to live, if you die? Or again, can Ibelieve what my reason condemns as a fable? Oh! I am not laughing atit, as I did when I first went to see you in prison! I feel now thatfaith is an invincible force, and gives bliss and strength even in thehour of death. And yet it seems to me a madness, a delirium of ravingfancy. No, I cannot believe, however much I may desire it. My faith inIsis made me strong too--and it was all a lie, foul and base treachery.Ah! Quintus, Quintus, you are sacrificing your young and promising lifefor a mere dream, a delusion, a shadow--throwing everything away for anempty bubble!"
"My poor Cornelia!" said Quintus deeply moved. "The greatest idea,that ever dawned in the mind of man, you call a delusion and adream. It is true, perhaps, that many of the aspects under whichwe shadow forth this great conception are petty and childish, forwe are but weak and helpless mortals. But the essential part, theliving principle which lies hidden behind these symbols, is true andperfect to all eternity. Poor, hapless Cornelia; how will you findcourage to look death in the face; you, forsaken, alone, without aSaviour--hopeless--speechless--when the Nazarene can joyfully murmurthe name of Jesus Christ? What prayer, what word of comfort can youfind to whisper in that awful moment?"
"Can you ask?" said Cornelia, looking into his eyes. "The last words,that my lips will utter, will be your name, my first, last, only love.My god, my saviour, is called Quintus Claudius."
Quintus could control himself no longer; the tears started to his eyes.He clasped her in his arms and covered her lips, cheeks and brow withpassionate kisses.
Thus they stood for a time in an oblivious embrace. Suddenly they heardthe roll of drums; a sudden terror fell upon the party of prisoners.This drumming was the signal for the fights in the arena to begin. Thescattered groups drew closer together; the flute-player had sprung upwith a scream. Some of the men began to bewail themselves and lamentloudly, but the consul presently succeeded in controlling this outburstof terror. In a firm, loud voice, he admonished his fellow-victims toemulate the example of the Redeemer, and to remain steadfast throughall their torments, so that the sight of their unshaken courage mightwin Him new disciples among the people. Then he told them how nobly theservants of the Lord had died under Nero; how even when burnt by slowfires, lighted by the hand of Caesar himself, with their latest breaththey proclaimed the truth in Christ Jesus. The prisoners listened withgrowing devotion to his enthusiastic appeal, and the vault was as stillas the catacomb used to be, when the little congregation met there fortheir Feast of Love.
When Flavius Clemens ceased, a strange sound fell on the ear; it wasthe clapping and applause of the spectators, which was heard only aslulled by distance, like the tramp of a horse's hoofs over a woodenbridge. The first scene of the bloody performance was over--a fightprobably, like that of yesterday, between two gladiators. The fatalmoment was drawing nearer and nearer.
Twice or thrice was this fearfully suggestive sound repeated, mixedwith confused shouts and wild laughter; heavy steps were heard in thecorridor and the principal entrance was unbarred.
The bravest quailed, paralyzed by terror, and stared with glassy eyesat the door, which opened slowly, creaking on its hinges. An armedsoldier stood on the threshold, and two others were visible on thesteps that led up to the arena.
"Diphilus, the carpenter, and Euterpe, his wife!" cried the warden ina harsh voice. Diphilus had started up the instant he heard his namecalled. With his head bent forward, he fixed his gaze on the apparitionin the door-way as though he thought he might be dreaming. Euterpe hadcrept behind him; like a child threatened with punishment, she hidherself behind her husband's stalwart form.
"Come on!" said the man. "Make haste! The people are waiting."
"We are ready," said the carpenter.
"No, no, no!" shrieked Euterpe wildly. "I will be hewn in pieces,before I go up to that horrible blood-stained place. I cannot,Diphilus--no, not if the Lord himself were to appear and command me."
"Woman," said the man-at-arms, "give over whimpering and do not keep mewaiting. There is no help for you now; and besides," he added with ajeer, "the beasts will only be all the hungrier."
"Control yourself and pray to God," whispered Diphilus.
"I cannot, I cannot," sobbed Euterpe falling on her knees. "Why must Idie--and I am so young, and this world is a very pleasant one! Mercy,for Christ's sake have mercy! No, no, I am not a Christian. I aminnocent, indeed I am. I was misled--go and tell Caesar, tell the crueljudges. I cannot die, I will repent before the altar of Jupiter--onlylet me live, and my good honest Diphilus."
"Miserable, weak creature!" said Flavius Clemens, going up to thedistracted woman and stroking her hair with a pitiful smile. "God willforgive you for what you have said in your terror of death. It does notcome from your heart, and God is love."
Then turning to the man he said: "Is it not possible to give her alittle longer time? If we came first--I and my wife?"
"Impossible," said the man.
Meanwhile Diphilus had infused some little courage into the tremblingEuterpe. She got up, but her knees gave way. He took her up, more deadthan alive, and bursting into tears, clasped her in his arms.
The warden signed to his comrades; without saying a word they snatchedher from him. One of them, a red-haired Sicambrian, lifted up theslender form of the weeping woman, as if she were a mere plaything, andcarried her up the steps. The other two followed with Diphilus, whoheld himself bravely, and waved a farewell to those who remained behind.
The door fell to with a crash, and no sooner had the footsteps diedaway, than they heard the signal drum. Most of the prisoners fell ontheir knees at the horrible sound and raised their hands in passionatesupplication. Flavius Clemens, Quintus and Cornelia remained standing.
There was a breathless silence; lips moved but spoke not, only asuppressed sob now and then broke the deathly stillness. Suddenly aconvulsive shudder thrilled the worshippers, the dull roar of a lionwas heard; involuntarily every eye was more fervently raised and handswere clasped more tightly. Then there was a fearful shriek, shrill,despairing, piercing--and then again the wild applause, the clapping,shouting and laughter.
"That was Euterpe," whispered Quintus, pressing his face agains
t thewall.
Nearly two hours went by, before the vault was opened again. Theinterval was occupied by a series of combats on horseback in grandclassical style; and when the man next appeared he hailed twelve of theChristians at once.
It was strange, but the victims were now all calm and composed. The menand women, who at the first appearance of the messenger of death hadflinched and quailed, now only betrayed by their shortened breathing,that the door that stood open before them led to death, and not toliberty.
"The Lord give you strength!" cried Flavius Clemens as the door closedupon them, and the remaining handful looked at each other with a sadand wistful smile. Their number was greatly diminished; at every momentthe end drew nearer--nearer and more certain.
At noon the noble Flavius was led out to die, and a few minutes laterhis wife followed him. Then the rest, till at last only Quintus andCornelia were left in the subterranean vault.
"They have reserved us for the last," the girl began after a longand painful silence. "The most effective piece to conclude, as theconnoisseurs say. Oh! Quintus, the disgrace is worse than the dread ofdeath. Tell me, my dear love, you will not give the mob the triumphthey long for, to see you fight like a gladiator? You will obey thevoice of pride, which bids us rather turn the sword with calm dignityagainst our own breast?"
"I shall fight, Cornelia."
"Miserable man!" she groaned, hiding her face in her hands. "No worthyClaudius would say so! Or do you hope to be victorious over the lions?"
"I hope nothing, for I know that the short dagger is little better thana toy. But so long as my arm can wield it, I have no right to drop itout of self-conceit. If Providence has so willed, even that puny weaponwill avail to fell the foe...."
"You are mad--or rather, I see now your creed is indeed the creed forslaves. It treads the pride of man into the dust."
"True pride is that, which raises a man above all prejudice--whichteaches him to despise scorn and look down on contempt. I know but onelaw--that of duty. But you, Cornelia, once more I implore you...."
The rattle of the bolts interrupted him; the dreadful moment had come.
For one second, breathless and with his eyes closed, he leaned againstthe wall. Then he stood calm and defiant Cornelia flung her arms roundhis neck.
"Say not another word, my own dearest love," she said, with passionatedevotion. "I too know the duty of a true and loving heart. I follow youjoyfully, and my last breath is yours. Now be yourself, all yourself,and never think again about me. If I were to be left alone in theworld--then indeed I might claim your tears; but, as it is, death curesevery ill."
Quintus felt that Cornelia was equally right from her own point ofview, as he, as a Christian, was from his. He kissed her once moreon the white and trembling lips, which in happier days had spoken somany a fond and tender word, blessed her for her heroic faithfulness,swearing that in that other unknown land, where they would presentlymeet again in glory, he would yet save the soul that was one with hisown.
Then he took her hand, and led her up the steps.
The little gate-way was thrown open, and they slowly stepped out onto the arena. Whether it was the intense daylight after the dismaltwilight of the dungeon, or their own tension of nerve and sense--theysaw nothing; neither the endless ranks of seats, the thousands of headsthat filled the Amphitheatre to the top-most course, nor Caesar in hisgold-embroidered pulvinar. Everything swam before their eyes in a greymist, a blank chaos. They were alone, together, in the midst of thisvast multitude. At their feet spread the arena with its yellow sands,like an island in an ocean.
Cornelia tottered; she would probably have lost consciousness if thehard rattle of the drum, and immediately after the loud voice of themaster of the ceremonies proclaiming the names of the victims, had notstartled her into life again.
A servant came up to Quintus, and handed him the short dagger-likesword.
"Be sure to throw it," he whispered stealthily in his ear.
Quintus, who recovered an unhoped sense of self-protection as soon ashe felt himself armed, looked enquiringly in the fellow's face.
"If you value your life," the slave repeated, "throw at him, throw theknife." And he withdrew to his place behind the parapet.
What could he mean? No doubt, if Quintus were close to the lion, evenin the event of his striking a fatal blow, it might be consideredcertain that in his very death-struggle the beast would mangle him.Still, a stab must be surer to hit than a throw; besides which he mightbe able to stab twice, he could not repeat the throw. The suggestionthen must be the malicious trap of some enemy, or at best the brutaljoke of a ruffian.
The doors at the farther end of the arena were now flung open, and anenormous lion, all tawny gold, his wide head loaded with a thick andflowing mane, came calmly and majestically out on to the arena. A largeblack lock of hair hung over his eyes.
Quintus at once recognized that very beast, which had flung itselfso furiously against the bars of its cage as it stood on the quay atOstia. He clutched the handle of his weapon with a convulsive grip; itsuddenly felt so small, so ineffectual, that he thought the spectatorsthat sat watching must laugh at the absurdity.
Cornelia was standing a few paces to one side of Quintus, as pale andmotionless as a marble goddess.
The lion came deliberately towards them, and Quintus fixed his eyesteadily on the glaring eye of the foe. Suddenly the brute seemed tohesitate. Could he have recognized the face, which had before so rousedhis ferocity? He lashed his flanks with his sweeping tail, and foamingslaver dripped from his jaws. The muscles of his huge paws twitchedto strike--and now he crouched to spring. Every sinew was strained,and the next instant he flung himself straight at Quintus. At the samemoment Cornelia had thrown herself in the line of the brute's attack,while Quintus started aside. The girl's unexpected movement may havestartled the beast; he sprang short, and fell on the ground very nearto Quintus, and as he fell the sword pierced his shoulder with suchforce, that it went up to the hilt.
What was this? What an unheard-of stroke of skill! The knife hadhardly hit the lion, when he sank limp and helpless; he shuddered witha tremendous convulsion, and then rolled over stark and stiff in thesand.--He was dead.
Quintus could not believe his eyes--some demon, he thought, must havetricked his excited senses. How was it possible? One of these monstrousbeasts, in whose side half a dozen of lances would sometimes be broken,before their tenacious vitality was spent--and this sudden death hadresulted from a single stroke, though, it is true, a shrewd one?
But the uproarious applause of the crowd gave him no time to meditateupon the miracle.
"Mercy for Quintus Claudius!" was shouted in a thousand voices, andfrom every side.
"Caesar, release him! Pardon for Quintus Claudius!"
Pale as death, his lips set, his brows knit, Caesar sat impassible inthe midst of the storm. Clodianus went up to him and, with a meaningsmile, whispered something in his ear. Caesar angrily shook hishead.[157]
"Pardon for Quintus Claudius! Pardon for his betrothed!" rangout incessantly, and louder than before, from every part of theAmphitheatre.
"My lord and husband," said Domitia, bowing with dignified andwell-feigned indifference to her frowning sovereign, "your clemencywill save him?"
"Never!" cried Domitian, rising from his seat.
He signed to the herald, and the tumult was hushed.
"Romans!" said Caesar in a voice like distant thunder. "You aredemanding mercy for a man, who pronounced his own sentence of death.He had his life in his own hands. One word, one single word ofrecantation, and he was free. His obstinacy refused to speak the word.Romans, Caesar pardons none but those who repent."
"None but cowards!" shouted a voice from the top-seats.
"Pardon for Quintus Claudius!" the shouting began again--the buildingseemed to tremble at the terrific uproar.
"Quintus," murmured Cornelia, closing her eyes, "speak the word,that will set you free! You will not escape your fate a second time
.Quintus, if ever you loved me...."
A melancholy smile and a look of utter devotion were the only response.
Again Clodianus made some remark, in an undertone, to the wrathfulsovereign, and once more the herald commanded silence.
"I am merciful and kind," said Caesar. "I am always glad to fulfil thedesires of my beloved Romans, so far as it is possible. But here I ambound by duty. The utmost I can grant is a reprieve. For this day thecriminal is respited from carrying on the struggle. He may have timeto recover himself and collect his strength; then victory may crownhis efforts a second and a third time. Then, my faithful Romans, yourheart's desire will be fulfilled, and the object of your sympathy willbe free!"
A murmur of discontent rose from the disappointed people; however, theyfelt that any farther insistence would be useless, if not rash. Theyhad not failed to observe that, at the very beginning of the tumult,Domitian had beckoned the commander of the body-guard to his side,and when he was in this frame of mind some violent measures on theEmperor's part were only too probable.[158]
"Good counsel prevails over revenge," said the voice from the uppercircle.
The master of the ceremonies hastened to lead Quintus and Corneliaaway. The dead lion, which lay with its long blue-black tongue hangingout of its foaming jaws, was dragged off through one of the gates, andthe arena hastily strewn with fresh sand. A fight between a littlegirl of thirteen and a dwarf[159] soon put the incidents of Quintus'struggle out of the heads of the spectators, and by the end of the day,when the whole arena was flooded with water and a magnificent navalfight was performed,[160] few indeed remembered the brave youth and hispale, beautiful companion.
Few--but still some did.
First of these was Caesar, who swore that he never would consent tosave the life of a man, whom Cornelia would follow to death rather thanenjoy the favors of Caesar. All the emptiness and nothingness of hisexistence had come home to his conscience, as he looked on at that lifeand death fight. He, who was only hated and feared, felt at that momenta wild hunger for love and constancy; but this impulse, in itselfso purely human, at once assumed, in his degraded soul, the form ofaggravated vindictiveness.
Then, there was Domitia. Her hatred, which had long been dying out,broke down altogether under the impression of what she had justwitnessed--even her hatred for Cornelia, her happy and envied rival,over whose death in lingering torment the rancorous Empress had so longgloated in fancy.
Shortly after the beginning of the naumachia Domitia quitted theamphitheatre and returned to the palace, where her steward met her.
"Is my Lady and Mistress content?" he inquired in abject tones.
"Content?" repeated Domitia. "And is it any merit of yours if he wonthe victory in an unequal fight?"
"Madam," said Stephanus, "the time was short, and every effort to moveCaesar failed. I used the only means, that lay within my power. Or didyou really suppose, that a Gaetulian lion could be killed like a harewith a nip of the hunter's fingers? The dagger was poisoned."
"Ah! I understand...." She would have said more, but Polycharma rushedbreathless into the room.
"I want Stephanus--a messenger from the amphitheatre...."
"Bid him come in," said the Empress.
A young man handed a note to the steward. Stephanus turned pale as heread it, and he closed his eyes as if blinded by a flash.
"Go, it is well," he stammered, and he crushed the letter in his hand.
"What has happened?" asked Domitia.
"Madam--the worst that can happen. The master of the ceremoniessuspects--the trick is discovered."
The Empress flushed crimson.
"Then you no longer have Quintus alone to save, but yourself too,Stephanus. Your life is at stake as well as his. Remember, consider thereward that awaits you! Let Rome perish if need be, but prevent thatlast, worst...."
"You command, and I obey."
FOOTNOTES:
[155] THE UNDERGROUND CELLS OF THE AMPHITHEATRE. The greater part of what in our theatres we call "behind the scenes," was underground in the Roman amphitheatre; especially the cages for wild beasts, and cells for condemned criminals. The subterranean rooms in the Flavian amphitheatre are still visible.
[156] THE CONSUL FLAVIUS CLEMENS AND HIS NOBLE WIFE. The wife of the consul Flavius Clemens was a relative of Domitian. According to Dio Cassius (LXVII, 14) she was called Flavia Domitilla, According to this historian, she was not condemned to the wild beasts, but only to exile at Pandataria. How near Flavius Clemens originally stood to the emperor's person, appears from the narrative of Suetonius (_Dom._ 15,) where it is said, that the emperor publicly designated the two sons of his cousin Flavius Clemens, then little boys, to be his successors, and therefore gave one the name of Vespasianus and the other that of Domitianus, in place of the one hitherto borne. Besides, according to Suetonius, the Christianity of Flavius Clemens is not so clearly shown as my story supposes. See also note 137, Vol. I, and note 131, Vol. II.
[157] CAESAR ANGRILY SHOOK HIS HEAD. Usually the emperors had endeavored to heed the publicly-expressed wishes of the people. Only Domitian and a few others were an exception. Thus Suetonius (_Dom._ 13) states that Domitian, when the audience at the combats in honor of the Capitoline Jupiter, asked for the reinstatement of Palfurius Sura, who had been expelled from the senate and now crowned as orator, did not even vouchsafe an answer, but through the mouth of the herald unceremoniously ordered silence. The compliance with the demands of the audience at the circus, who required the recall of the empress, described in this story (note 148, Vol. I.) does not contradict this trait of character, for there the emperor was bound by an express promise.
[158] SOME VIOLENT MEASURES ON THE EMPEROR'S PART WERE ONLY TOO PROBABLE. Dio Cassius, LXVII, 8, gives us a striking example of such violence towards the spectators at public games. A terrible storm arose during a brilliant performance in the circus. The wind howled, the rain poured in torrents, but no one ventured to leave the place, even for the short time necessary to get a cloak. The emperor himself, on the contrary, constantly changed his upper garment. "Many" writes Dio Cassius, "took cold and died."
[159] A FIGHT BETWEEN A LITTLE GIRL OF THIRTEEN AND A DWARF. See note 177, Vol. I. Also Dio Cass., LXVII, 8.
[160] A MAGNIFICENT NAVAL FIGHT WAS PERFORMED. The sea-fights (_naumachia_) took place either in basins and ponds, specially dug for the purpose, or in the arena itself, which by means of the high state of perfection attained by the Romans in the science of hydraulics, could be flooded in a few moments.