Quintus Claudius: A Romance of Imperial Rome. Volume 1

  CHAPTER III.

  The second serious meal of the day, the coena[82] or supper had begun;the party had betaken themselves to the cavaedium,[83] where it wasnow beginning to grow dusk. This airy colonnade--the handsomest portionperhaps, of an old Roman house--was here very pleasingly decoratedwith flowers and plants of ornamental foliage. The arcades, whichsurrounded the open space in the middle, were green with ivy, whilean emerald grass-plot, with cypresses and laurels, magnolias in fullbloom, pomegranates and roses, filled up half the quadrangle. Twelvestatues of bronze gilt served to hold lamps, and a fountain tossed itssparkling jet as high as the tallest trees.

  For some time the party sat chatting in the dusk; then two slaves camein with torches and lighted the lamps of the twelve statues; two otherslighted up the arcades so that the painted walls and their purplishbackgrounds were visible far across the court-yard. A flute-player fromCumae now played to them in a tender mode; she stood in the entrance,dressed in the Greek fashion, with her abundant hair gathered intoa knot and her slender fingers gliding up and down the stops of theinstrument. Her features were sweet and pleasing, her manner soft andharmonious; only from time to time a strange expression of wearinessand absence of mind passed over her face. When she had done playing,she was conducted by Baucis to the back gate. She took the piece ofsilver which she received in payment with an air of indifference, andthen bent her way down the hill towards Cumae, which already lay indarkness.

  "Allow me to ask," said Herodianus to Quintus, "what is the name ofthis tunefully-gifted damsel?"

  "She is called Euterpe, after the muse who presides over her art."

  "Her name is Arachne," added Lucilia, "but Euterpe sounds morepoetical."

  "Euterpe!" breathed the worthy Herodianus. "Heavenly consonance! Is shea Greek?"

  "She is from Etruria, and was formerly the slave of Marcus CocceiusNerva, who freed her. She married in Cumae not long since."

  "As strictly historical as the annals of Tacitus," laughed Claudia.

  "I heard it all from Baucis."

  "Wretched old magpie!" exclaimed Quintus, intentionally raising hisvoice. "If she could not gossip, she would lose the breath of life."

  "By all the gods, my lord!" exclaimed Baucis, laying her hands on herheart, "you are calumniating me greatly--do you grudge me a littleharmless chat? All-merciful Isis! am I to close my lips with wax? No,by Typhon[84] the cruel! Besides, I must instruct the daughters of thehouse; it is for that that I eat the bitter crust of dependence in myold age. Oh! Baucis knows her duties; have I not taught Claudia tosing and play the cithara? Have I not taught Lucilia more than a dozenEgyptian formulas and charms? and now I add to this a little sprinklingof knowledge of the world and of men--and you call it gossip! You youngmen of the present day are polite, I must say!"

  "Then you sing to the cithara?"[85] said Aurelius, turning to Claudia."Oh, let me, I beg of you, hear one of your songs!"

  "With pleasure," said the girl coloring slightly. "With yourpermission, dear mother...?"

  "You know my weakness," replied Octavia. "I am always only tooglad to hear you sing. If our noble guest's request is not merelypoliteness...."

  "It is a most heartfelt wish," cried Aurelius. "Your daughter's voiceis music when she only speaks--in singing it must be enchanting."

  "I think so too, indeed," added Herodianus. "Oh, we Northmen areconnoisseurs in music. The Camenae visit other spots than Heliconand the seven hills of Rome; they have taken Trajectum too undertheir protection. Had I but been born in Hellas, where Zeus solavishly decked the cornucopia of the arts with such pure and idealperfection...."

  "Herodianus, you are talking nonsense!" interrupted the young Batavian."I am afraid that the old Falernian we drank at dinner, was too strongfor your brain."

  "I beg your pardon! that would be very unlike me. Since Apollofirst laid me in my cradle, temperance has been my most conspicuousvirtue...."

  A slave girl had meanwhile brought in the nine-stringed cithara and theivory plectrum; Claudia took them from her with some eagerness, put theribbon of the lute round her neck and sat upright on her easy-chair.She turned the pegs here and there to put the instrument in tune,struck a few chords and runs as a prelude, and began a Greek song--thedelightful Spring-greeting of Ibycus the Sicilian:[86]

  "Spring returns, and the gnarled quince[87] Fed by purling and playful brooks Decks its boughs with its rosy flowers Where, beneath in the twilight gloom, Nymph-like circles of maidens dance; While the sprays of the budding grape Hide 'mid shadowy vine leaves.

  Ruthless Eros doth disregard Spring's sweet tokens and hints of peace. Down he rushes like winter blasts-- Thracian storms with their searing flash-- Aphrodite's resistless son Falls on me in his fury and fire-- Racks my heart with his torments."

  Claudia ceased; the accompaniment on the cithara died away in softfull chords. Caius Aurelius sat spellbound. Never had he dreamed ofthe daughters of the fever-tossed metropolis as so simple, so natural,so genuine and genial. The strain almost resembled, in coy tenderness,those northern love-songs which he had been wont to hear from the lipsof Gothic and Ampsivaric maidens. In those, to be sure, a vein ofrebellion and melancholy ran through the melody and pierced through thecharm, while in this all was perfect harmony, exquisite contentment--anintoxicating concord of joy, youth and love. In this he heard theecho of the smiling waves below, of the glistening leaves, and ofheart-stirring spring airs.

  "A second Sappho!" exclaimed Herodianus, as his master sat speechless."I can but compare the sweetness of that voice with the lusciousFalernian we drank at dinner. That was a nectar worthy of the gods!Besides, indeed--the Hispanian wine--out there, what do you call theplace--you know, my lord--what is the name of it--that was delicioustoo--and seen against the light.... What was I saying? I had an aunt,she sang too to the cithara--yes she did, why not?--She was free to dothat, of course, quite free to do it--and a very good woman too was oldPris--Pris--Priscilla. Only she could not endure, that any one shouldtalk when she blew the cithara...."

  Octavia was frowning; Aurelius had turned crimson and nodded to hisGothic slave, who was standing aside under the arcade. Magus quietlycame up to Herodianus and whispered a few words in his ear.

  "That shows a profound, a remarkably profound power of observation!"cried the freedman excitedly. "In fact, what does music prove afterall? I play the water-organ,[88] and--hold me up, Magus. This floor isremarkably slippery for a respectable cavaedium. It might be paved witheels or polished mirrors!"

  "You are a very good fellow," muttered the Goth as he led him slowlyaway, "but you carry it a little too far...."

  "What? Ah! you have no sense of the sublime? You are not aphilosopher, but only a--a--a--a man. But, by Pluto! you need not breakmy arm. I--take care of that, that.... Will you let go, you misbegottenvillain!"

  But the Goth was not to be got rid of; he held the drunken man like aniron vice and so guided him in a tolerably straight course. When theydisappeared in the corridor leading to the atrium, Aurelius was anxiousto apologize for him, but Octavia laughed it off.

  "We are at Baiae,"[89] she said, "and Baiae is famous for its worshipof Bacchus."

  "It is impossible to be vexed with him," added Lucilia; "he is soexceedingly funny, and has such a confiding twinkle in his eyes."

  "I am only annoyed," said Aurelius, "that he should have disturbed usat so delicious a moment. Indeed madam, your voice is enchantment; andwhat a heavenly melody! who is the musician who composed it?"

  "You make me blush," said Claudia: "I myself put the words to music,and I am delighted that you should like it. Quintus thought itdetestable."

  "Nay, nay--" murmured Quintus.

  "Yes indeed!" said the saucy Lucilia. "It was too soft and womanly foryour taste."

  "You are misrepresenting me; I only said, that the air did not suit thewords. It is a man who is here complaining of the torments of love,whi
le what Claudia sings does not sound like a Thracian winter storm,but like the lamentations of a love-lorn maiden."

  "Nonsense!" laughed Lucilia. "Love is love, just as air is air!whether you breathe it or I, it is all the same."

  "But with this difference, that rather more of it is needed to fill mylungs than yours. However, for aught I care the song is perfect."

  "You are most kind, to be sure! And you may thank the gods that youhave nothing to do but to listen to it. I have no doubt, that at thedrinking-bouts of some of your boon companions the songs have a moreTitanic ring and roar."

  "You little hypocrite! Do you want to play the part now of a femaleCato? Why, how often have you confessed to me, that you would give youreyes to be one of such a party if only it were permissible!"

  "Mother," said Lucilia, "do not allow him to make a laughing stock ofme in this heartless way. 'If only I were a man,' you mean, not 'if itwere permissible.'"

  "Very good!" replied Quintus.

  Caius Aurelius now expressed a wish to hear Claudia sing a Latin song,and she selected one of which the words were by the much-admired poetStatius,[90] who at that time was, with Martial,[91] the reigningfavorite in the taste of the highest circles. With this the strangerseemed equally delighted.

  When Claudia had ended, he himself seized the instrument and plectrum,and with eager enthusiasm in a full, strong voice sang a battle-song.The powerful tones rang through the evening silence like the rush ofa mountain torrent. His hearers saw in fancy the swaying struggle--thecaptain of the legion is in the thick of the fray--"Comrades," criesone of the combatants, "our chief is in danger! Help! help for ourchief!--One last furious onslaught, and the battle is won!"

  The two girls shrank closer to each other.

  As the notes slowly died away, a figure appeared high above them in themoonlight, leaning over the parapet of the upper story.

  "By the gods! my lord!" cried Herodianus, "I am coming!--If only I knewwhere Magus has hidden my sword! Hold your own, stand steady, and wewill beat them yet!"

  The party burst out laughing.

  "Go to bed, Herodianus!" shouted his master. "You are talking in yourdreams!"

  "Apollo be praised then!" stuttered the other, "but I heard you withmy own ears, shouting desperately for help." And with these wordshe withdrew from the parapet, still muttering and fighting the airwith his arms; and Lucilia declared that she should positively die oflaughing if this extraordinary sleep-walker went through any fartheradventures. The moon was already high in the sky, when the partyseparated. Quintus led his visitor to the strangers' rooms, wished himgoodnight, and went to his own cubiculum[92] where his slaves stoodyawning as they waited for him. For a time, however, he paced his roomin meditation; then pausing in his walk, he looked undecidedly throughthe open doorway and asked: "What is the hour?"

  "It wants half an hour of midnight," replied Blepyrus, his body-servant.

  "Very good--I do not want to sleep yet. Open the window; the air hereis suffocating. Blepyrus, give me my dagger."

  "The Syrian dagger?"

  "A useless question--when do I ever use any other?"

  "Here, my lord," said Blepyrus, taking the dagger out of a closet inthe wall.

  "It is only as a precaution. Lately all sorts of wild rabble havehaunted Baiae and the neighborhood. I am going to take a walk for anhour or so," and he went to the door. "But mind," he added, "this lateexpedition is a secret."

  The slaves bowed.

  "You know us, my lord!" they said with one accord.

  Quintus went out again into the arcades. The colonnaded court laywhite and dream-like in the moonshine, the shadows of the statues fellblackly sharp on the dewy grass-plot and the chequered outlines of themosaic pavement. Quintus hastened noiselessly to the postern-gate,which led from the peristyle into the park; he pushed back the bolt andwas out on the terrace. Complete silence reigned around; only the verytops of the trees bent to the soft night-breeze. Quintus looked downupon Baiae. Here and there a light twinkled in the harbor; otherwiseit was like a city of the dead. Then he looked down the black darknessof the shrubbery paths into the wilderness and seemed to waver, buthe drew a little letter out of the belt of his tunic and studied it,meditating.

  "In fact," said he to himself, "the whole affair wears the aspect of amad adventure; it would not be the first time that malice had assumedsuch a disguise! But no! Such a scheme would be too clumsy; whatwarranty would the traitor have, that I should come alone? Besides, ifI have any knowledge of love-intrigue, these lines were undoubtedlywritten by a woman's hand."

  He opened the note,[93] which was written on pale yellow Alexandrianpaper with the finest ink. The red silk that tied it was sealed withyellow wax, and bore the impression of a finely-cut intaglio. Thehandwriting betrayed practice, and the whole thing looked as if ithad come from the hands of a cultivated and distinguished fine lady.The contents answered to this supposition; the style was marked byaristocratic affectations and rhetorical grace, while it revealed thatvein of eager, jealous passion, which stamps the Roman woman to thisday.

  "There is no doubt about it," muttered Quintus, when he had once morecarefully examined every detail. "This is in hot earnest, and shecommands me to meet her with the assurance of a goddess. And withall her domineering confidence, what sweet coaxing--what invitingtenderness! It would be treason to the divine influences of Venus tohesitate. Nay, fair unknown!--for you must surely be fair--beautiful asthe goddess whose inspiration fires your blood! Nothing but beauty cangive a woman courage to write such words as these!"

  He replaced the note in his bosom and took the same path that he hadtrodden a few hours since with Aurelius; listening sharply on each sideas he got farther into the thicket, and keeping his hand on his dagger,he slowly mounted the hill. All nature seemed to be sleeping, and thedistant cry of a night-bird sounded as if in a dream. Before long hehad reached the spot where the path turned off to the pavilion. Thelittle temple stood out in the moonlight as sharply as by day againstthe dark-blue sky, like an erection of gleaming silver and snow; thelight seemed to ripple on the marble like living, translucent dew--and,in the middle, the goddess sat enthroned!--a tall form robed in white,her face veiled, motionless as though indeed a statue. Quintus pausedfor an instant; then he mounted to the top and said bowing low:

  "Unknown one, I greet thee!"

  "And I thee, Quintus Claudius!" answered a voice that was tremulouswith agitation.

  "You, madam, have commanded, and I, Quintus Claudius, have obeyed. Now,will you not reveal the secret I am burning to discover?"

  The veiled lady took the young man gently by the hand and drew himtenderly to a seat.

  "My secret!" she repeated with a sigh. "Can you not guess it? Quintus,divinest, most adorable Quintus--I love you!"

  "Your favors confound me!" said Quintus in the tone of a man to whomsuch phrases were familiar. His unknown companion threw her arms roundhim, leaned her head on his shoulder, and burst into tears.

  "Oh, happy, intoxicating hour!" she breathed in a rapturous undertone."You, the noblest of men, my idol, whom I have thought of so long,watched with such eager eyes--_you_, Quintus, mine--mine at last! It istoo much happiness!"

  Quintus, under the stormy fervor of this declaration, felt an uneasymistrust which he tried in vain to repress. This despotic "mine--mine"gave him a sensation as of the grip of a siren. He involuntarily rose.

  "My good fortune takes my breath away!" he said in flattering accents;doubly flattering to atone for the hasty impulse by which he had stoodup. "But now grant my bold desire, and let me see your face. Let meknow who it is, that vouchsafes me such unparalleled favors."

  "You cannot guess?" she whispered reproachfully. "And yet it is said,that the eyes of love are keen. Quintus, my beloved, Fate denies us allopen and unchecked happiness; it is in secret only that your lips mayever meet mine. But you know that true love mocks at obstacles--naymore, the flowers that blossom in the very valley of death are thosethat smell sweetest."

/>   Quintus drew back a step.

  "Once more," he insisted, "tell me who you are?"

  The tall figure raised a beautiful arm, that shone like Parian marblein the moonlight, and slowly lifted her veil.

  "The Empress!"[94] cried Quintus dismayed.

  "Not 'the Empress' to you, my Quintus--to you Domitia, hapless, devotedDomitia, who could die of love at your feet."

  Quintus stood immovable.

  "Fear nothing," she said smiling. "No listener is near to desecrate theperfect bliss of this moonlit night."

  "Fear?" retorted Quintus. "I am not a girl, to go into fits in athunder-storm. What I resolve on I carry out to the end, though the endbe death! Besides, I know full well, that your favors bloom in secretplaces--as silent and as harmless as the roses in a private garden."

  Domitia turned pale.

  "And what do you mean by that?" she asked shuddering.

  "You live far away from Caesar, your husband; you are served by spies;your palace is a labyrinth with a hundred impenetrable chambers...."

  "Indeed!" said Domitia, controlling her excitement. "But still, I sawyou start. What dismayed you so much, if it was not the suspicion ofdanger?"

  "You know," answered the young man hesitating, "that I am one of thosewho are ranked as Caesar's friends.[95] A friend--though merely anofficial friend--cannot betray the man he is bound to defend."

  Domitia laughed loudly.

  "Fine speeches, on my word!" she exclaimed scornfully. "Friendship,for the executioner who cuts your head off! Fidelity to a bloodthirstyruffian! No, Quintus--I know better. You are staunch, but not fromfidelity--from prudence!"

  Quintus struck his breast proudly with his hand.

  "You force me," he said, "to speak the truth, in spite of my desire tospare you. You must know then, that Quintus Claudius thinks better ofhimself than to stoop to be the successor of an actor!"

  "Mad fool! what are you saying...."

  "What I was bound to say. You thought I was afraid; I am only proud.No, and if you were Cypris[96] in person I should disdain you no less,in spite of every charm. Never will I touch the lips, that have beenkissed by a buffoon--a slave."[97]

  Domitia did not stir; she seemed paralyzed by the fury of thisattack.--At last, however, she rose.

  "You are very right, Quintus," she said. "It was too much to expect.Go and sleep, and dream of your wedding. But the gods, you know, areenvious. They often grant us joys in our dreams and deny the reality.But now, before you go, kneel to the Empress!" and as she spoke astiletto flashed ominously in her hand. Quintus, however, had withequal swiftness drawn his dagger.

  "Fair and gently!" he said drawing back. "The honor of being stabbed bythe fair hand of Domitia is a temptation no doubt...." She colored anddropped the weapon.

  "Leave me!" she said, going to lean against the balustrade. "I do notknow what I am doing; my brain is reeling. Forgive me--forgive me!"Quintus made no reply, and casting a glance of furious hatred at himshe hurried down the steps, glided through the gap in the brushwoodinto the deserted park, and vanished among the shrubs.

  Quintus stood looking after her.

  "One foe the more!" said he to himself. "Well, what does it matter?Either to be made an end of by the knife of an assassin--or to live on,my very soul sickened with it all.... Pah!"

  And he made his way homewards, singing a Greek drinking-song as he went.

  FOOTNOTES:

  [82] COENA. The second and last principal meal after the day's work was over. Under the emperors the coena began about half-past two o'clock in the afternoon, in winter probably somewhat later. It corresponded in its relation to the other hours of the day, to the "diner" of the French, for the Romans were early risers, and even among the aristocratic classes day began at sunrise.

  [83] CAVAEDIUM or peristyle was the name given to the second court-yard of the Roman house, which was connected with the first or atrium by one or two corridors. The dining-room, as well as the study of the master of the house, were in the cavaedium. The space between the latter and the atrium, called the tablinum, contained the family papers; it was the business office.

  [84] TYPHON. The evil genius who killed Osiris. (See note 32, vol. 1.) The Greeks regarded him as a monster of original evil, the personification of the Simoom and other destructive hot winds, or of the primeval force of volcanoes.

  [85] CITHARA ([Greek: kithara]). A favorite musical instrument. The strings, usually of gut, were sounded by means of a _plectrum_ ([Greek: plektron]) of wood, ivory, or metal. Music was as common an accomplishment among ladies of rank then as now, and they often composed both the words and airs of their songs. Statius tells us that his step-daughter did so, and Pliny the younger says the same of his third wife.

  [86] IBYCUS OF RHEGION in Lower Italy (B.C. 528). A distinguished lyric poet, who is the hero of a well-known poem by Schiller. Few of his numerous lyric compositions remain to us. We here give a translation of Emanuel Geibel's admirable German version of his Spring-greeting. (_Classisches Liederbuch_, p. 44.)

  [87] QUINCE. Cydonia is the modern botanical name of the quince, called by the Greeks and Romans the Cydonian apple, after Cydonia, in the island of Crete.

  [88] WATER-ORGAN (_Hydraulus_, [Greek: hydraulos]). A musical instrument mentioned by Cicero, Seneca and others. Ammianus observes: "Water-organs and lyres are made so large, that they might be mistaken for coaches."

  [89] BAIAE was considered from ancient times friendly to Bacchus. (Sen. _Ep._ 51).

  [90] STATIUS.--P. Papinius Statius, born in Naples, A.D. 45, and died A.D. 96, was a lyric and epic poet, often artificial in style, but possessed of a brilliant imagination. His principal works are the epic poem "Thebais," in which he treats of the battle of the sons of Oedipus before Thebes, and the Silvae (woods), a collection of short poems. He also commenced an epic poem "Achilleis."

  [91] MARTIAL. (See note 100, vol. 1.)

  [92] CUBICULUM. A sleeping-room. The _cubicula_ were located in the atrium, peristyle, and upper stories.

  [93] NOTE. The Romans wrote their letters either on wax-tablets, (See note 10, vol. 1.) or on paper (_papyrus_, _carta_), using in the former case the stylus, in the latter a reed-pen and Indian ink. When the letter was finished, the wax-tablets were laid one above the other, and the papyrus folded several times. A string was then wound around the whole and the ends sealed.

  [94] THE EMPRESS DOMITIA. The emperor's wife was Domitia Longina, the daughter of Corbulo, and formerly the wife of Aelius Lamia, (Suet. _Dom._ 1).

  [95] CAESAR'S FRIENDS. Among the "friends (_amici_) of the emperor," were included those persons, who not only regularly shared the social pleasures of the sovereign, but were invited to consult with him on all important government business. Within this group of friends there were of course inner, outer, and outermost circles. Quintus, who had little intercourse with the court, can only be included in the outermost circle of all, and even there more on account of his father, who was one of the emperor's most intimate "friends," than by virtue of his own relations with the palace. He of course had a right to appear at court, like all persons of his rank, even without a special "relation of friendship" to the emperor. When inner and outer _circles_ of friends are mentioned, this must not be confounded with the different _classes_ of friends. Belonging to the first or second class implied a distinction of _rank_. Of course, in this sense, Quintus could only be numbered among the first class (_primi amici_).

  [96] CYPRIS. A name given to Aphrodite, the goddess of love, from the island of Cyprus, the principal seat of her worship.

  [97] A SLAVE. Domitia had been the mistress of P
aris, a slave and actor. When Domitian discovered it, he wished to sentence the empress to death, but at the intercession of Ursus, changed the decree to exile. Paris was massacred in the open street. (See Dio Cass. LXVII 3; Suet. _Dom._ 3.) Quintus calls Paris a buffoon out of contempt, for the profession of "player" was regarded by the ancient Romans as degrading.