CHAPTER V.
The day of their departure came. Aurelius had hailed the idea oftravelling with his new friends with an eagerness, that had brought asaucy smile to the lips of the shrewd Lucilia. But he had neverthelesspreferred the more comfortable sea-voyage to a journey by land, and hehad urged it so pressingly and yet so modestly that Octavia, after somehesitation, had yielded.
The second hour after sunrise[113] had been fixed for their start,and before daybreak the slaves were already busied in packing thebaggage mules and preparing the litters in the forecourt. The noiseand bustle aroused Quintus, and being unable to get to sleep again herose, dressed for the journey, and went out to the pillared court,where Lucilia was overlooking the slaves at their work and urging thedilatory to haste in cheerful tones.
"Restless being!" said Quintus in Greek: "Are you pursued by the gadflyof Juno,[114] that you set all the house in an uproar in the darknessof dawn? You must be afraid lest Aurelius' vessel should row of withoutus."
"And do you complain of my carefulness?" retorted Lucilia. "Punctualityis the first virtue of a house mistress."
"Aha! and since Lucilia's ambitions aim at that high dignity...."
"Laugh away! A well-ordered home is very desirable for you; and it willbe a real mercy when you get married. Since you have lived alone, youhave got into all sorts of mischief. But what is it that you want here,you ugly Satyr? Do you not see that you are dreadfully in the way?There, now you are treading on the travelling-cloaks! I entreat youleave the room to the household gods!"
"What! I am in your way? That is your view of the matter; but it isyou who are really the spoil-peace, the eternally restless storm whohave so often come sweeping down on our idyllic calm. Of all thethings, which remind us here of Rome, you are the most Roman. Youhave nothing but your little snub-nose to redeem you a little. But, byHercules! when I see you bustling around here, I can picture to myselfall the fevered turmoil of the great city[115] with its two millioninhabitants. Well, I will taste the sea-breezes once more--once more,for a brief space, enjoy peace and quietness."
"How?"
"I will wait for sunrise at the top of the hill, where the roadturns down to Cumae. In Rome it rises through smoke and mist; whilehere--oh! how grandly and gloriously it mounts from behind the cone ofVesuvius...."
"And rises there through smoke and mist!" laughed Lucilia. "Well, makehaste and come back again, or we shall set off without you."
She turned once more to the slaves. Quintus wrapped himself in hisample lacerna,[116] waved his hand to her, and went out.
The high-road was absolutely deserted; he drew a deep breath. It wasa delicious morning. His wish to bid farewell, as it were, to the sunand air of Baiae was not affected; like all Romans he raved aboutthe sea.[117] Its shore was to him the one real _Museion_--as Plinythe younger[118] had once expressed it--the true abode of the Muses,where the celestial powers seemed nearest to him; here, if anywhere,while watching the waves, he found time and opportunity for self-studyand reflection. He had now been living with his family in their quietvilla ever since the end of April, and had spent many hours in seriousmeditation, in congenial literary pleasures and diligent study. Hehad once more learned the real value of retirement, which in Rome wasso unattainable. A long winter of dissipation had left him satiated,and Baiae's aromatic air, a simple existence in the bosom of hisfamily, and the spirit of Greek poetry had combined to restore hispalled senses and overexcited nerves. And now, as the moment of returnapproached, he was seized more and more with the old spirit of unrest.He felt that the omnipotent sway of that demon called Rome would draghim back again into the vortex of aimless tragi-comedy, and now a lastglance at the smiling and slumbering sea was a positive craving of hisheart.
He slowly climbed the hill. At about a hundred paces up, there was aspot whence he could see over the roofs of the tallest villas and downinto the valley. His eye, though his purpose was to look far away andacross the sea, was irresistibly riveted by an object that was quiteclose at hand. To his right a by-path led down towards the palace ofthe Empress, and the huge portico, with its Corinthian columns, gleamedpale and visionary in the doubtful light. But what attracted the youngman's attention was a little side-door, which slowly turned on itspivot[119] with a slight noise, letting a female figure in Greek dresspass out into the road. Quintus recognized Euterpe, the flute-player.Limp and weary she climbed the steep slope, her eyes fixed on theground, and as she came closer, Quintus could see that she had beenweeping bitterly.
"Good morning, all hail!" he cried, when the young woman was within afew steps of him. Euterpe gave a little cry.
"It is you, my lord!" she said with a faint smile. "Returning so latefrom Cumae?"
"No, my good Euterpe. I am up not late, but early. But what in theworld have you been doing at this hour in Domitia's palace? Has shebeen giving a feast? You do not look as if you had gathered a harvestof gold or flowers."
"Indeed, my lord, no!" replied Euterpe, again melting into tears."I have been to visit a friend, who is suffering terribly. Down inBaiae, where I was playing at night in the house of the wealthyTimotheus, Agathon the seer gave me herbs and salves--they cost me aheavy sum--and since then I have been in there.... Oh! his wounds arehorrible.... But what am I talking about! He is only a slave, my lord;what can Quintus Claudius care...?"
"Do you think so?" said Quintus, interrupting the agitated speaker."But I am not made of stone; I know full well, that though among slavesthere is many a scamp, there are also worthy and excellent men. And if,to crown all, he is the friend[120] of so charming a creature...."
"Nay, my lord, you will have your jest--but if you could only see him,poor Eurymachus! If you could know how faithful he is, and how noble!"
"Well, I call that being desperately in love!"
Euterpe colored. "No," she said modestly. "I can accuse myself of manysins, but Eurymachus--no evil thought ever entered his mind."
"Is love a sin then?"
"I am married."
"Here--you were not wont to be so strict!"
"And the greater pity! If I had always known Eurymachus, as I know himnow...."
"Indeed! and how do you know him now?"
"He has opened my eyes; I know now how deeply I have sinned...."
"He is a philosopher then, who converts fair sinners from their evilways?"
"He is a hero!" exclaimed Euterpe with enthusiasm.
"You do not stint your praise. Does he belong to the Empress?"
"To her steward, Stephanus. Ah! my lord, he is a tyrant...."
"So they say."
"How he treated the poor fellow! It beats all description. For onesingle word he had him flogged till he was raw, and then tied him upin the park in the noontide sun. The gnats and flies...." But at thewoman's last words Quintus had gone nearer to her.
"Listen," he said hurriedly: "I believe I know your Eurymachus--a paleface with a dark beard--quiet, contemning pain--standing by the stakelike a martyr...."
"You saw him?" cried Euterpe, smiling through her tears. "Yes, it washe indeed. No one else has that extraordinary power of defying everytorment. Now he is lying half-dead on his bed; his whole back is onedreadful wound, and yet not a complaint, not a word of reproach!Fortunately the gate-keeper is my very good friend. He sent me amessage; otherwise very likely Eurymachus might have died in hismisery, without my knowing it. But I hope, I hope the charm may savehim."
"Listen, child," said Quintus after a pause: "You shall see, that Iknow how to value courage, even in the person of a slave. Here, takethis gold and spend it for the benefit of the sufferer, and by and bye,when he is well again, write to me in Rome; then we will see what canbe done next."
"Oh, my lord!" cried the flute-player vehemently, "you are like thegods for graciousness and kindness. Do I understand rightly, that wemay hope from your goodness...."
"Understand all you please," interrupted the youth kindly. "The chiefpoint is, that you should remind me
of it at the right moment. In Romea man forgets his nearest relations."
"I will remind you," said Euterpe, radiant. "Sooner should I forget toeat and drink. About the middle of next month I am going to the capitalwith Diphilus, my husband. He is a master-carpenter, and will have workto do on the grand erections for the Centenary Festival. If you willallow me, I will myself remind you in person."
"Do so, Euterpe."
"Oh, my lord! I thank you from the bottom of my heart. The man who isprotected by Quintus Claudius, is as safe as a child in its cradle."
Joy lent so sweet an expression to the young creature's face, thatQuintus was irresistibly moved to stroke her cheek, and in the excessof her delight she submitted to the caress, though, as we know, she hadvowed henceforth to give Diphilus no cause for complaint.
At this moment a magnificent litter, borne by eight gigantic negroes,appeared on the highest level of the road. It was escorted by fourmen-at-arms, and in it, leaning on the purple cushions and onlyhalf-veiled, reclined Domitia. The seething fever of her passion andanger had driven her to seek the air soon after midnight, and for hoursthe slaves had to carry her about the wooded ravines of the landwardside of the hills, or along the deserted roads, until, wearied outat last, she was fain to turn homewards. Quintus, somewhat abashed,withdrew to one side; not so quickly, however, but that Domitia hadobserved his light caress of Euterpe. She turned pale and lookedaway. The young man, who made ready to bow to the Empress, remainedunnoticed, and Euterpe stood as if turned to stone.
Quintus looked coolly after her as she was borne away, and shrugged hisshoulders; then he took Euterpe by the hand.
"It is a bargain then," he said in distinct tones. "You will find me inRome! Now, farewell--till we meet again."
He turned towards home; sea and sunrise were alike forgotten. Euterpehurried down to Cumae, and disappeared behind the ridge at the sameinstant as the Empress within the Corinthian portico of the palace.
In a few minutes the Claudia family were sitting in the triclinium totake a slight breakfast before starting. Octavia was thoughtful; herhusband's letter had made her anxious. She knew how stern a view TitusClaudius took of his duties, and how much would devolve upon him inthese agitated times. Claudia too was graver than usual. Only Aureliusand Lucilia looked bright and contented.--Lucilia, warm and rosy fromher busy exertions in the court-yard and atrium--and in her excitementshe would not give herself time to do more than drink a cup of milk andswallow a morsel of sesame-cake.[121]
The respectable Herodianus too, against his custom, was silent. Whatcould be so absorbing to that simple and garrulous nature? From time totime he frowned and stared at the ceiling, moving his lips in silentspeech like a priest of the Pythian oracle. The honey, generally hisfavorite dainty--he left untouched; the egg he was about to empty witha spoon[122] broke under his fingers. Aurelius was on the point oftaking the matter seriously, when the mystery found a natural solution.When, presently, Blepyrus appeared to announce that it was time tostart, the ponderous ponderer rose, went to the door, and began toexclaim with terrible pathos a valedictory poem of his own composition.It was based on the model of the world-renowned Hymenaeus[123] ofCatullus;[124] and its climax was the most extravagant refrain, thatthe Muse of occasional verse ever hatched in mortal brain.
For a few minutes the party listened in respectful silence to thecadences of this solemn effusion; but as it went on and on, apparentlyendless, Lucilia, who from the first had had great difficulty inkeeping countenance, broke into a fit of laughter, and Aureliusgood-naturedly put a stop to the freedman's recitation.
"I mean no offence, my excellent Herodianus; but though poetry issaid to be the mirror of reality, it must not interfere too much withthe progress of real events. Twelve times already have you resolutelyasserted: 'Far must we wander, far from hence!' but our feet are stillrooted to the spot. You may give us the rest of your poem on board thevessel, but for the present make way and take this ring as the prizefor your effusion."
Herodianus, who had at first been half inclined to take theinterruption in ill-part, felt himself fully indemnified by hismaster's gift, but his gaze lingered for a while in silent protest onLucilia. However, he presently joined the rest of the party, who weremounting their horses or settling themselves in litters, and soon theywere all fairly in motion.
They went down the hill in a long file. Baiae, now in full sunshine,seemed to nestle in a golden shell; the sea was as smooth as a mirror,and the clear atmosphere promised a prosperous voyage. They soonreached the stone quay, where the motley crowd of the harbor wasalready at high tide of noise and bustle. There lay the proud triremebefore their surprised eyes, gaily dressed out like a bride waitingfor the bridegroom. Long garlands of flowers floated from the spars,tied with purple knots and blue streamers; magnificent carpets fromAlexandria and Massilia hung from the poop, and the crew were alldressed in holiday garments. When they had got into the boats and werefast approaching the vessel, strains of music were heard greeting thevisitors. Claudia colored deeply; she recognized her own song--thatimpassioned address to the Spring, which she had sung the first eveningin the peristyle.
In ten minutes the Batavia had weighed anchor and was being rowed inmajestic style past the quays and mole. Quintus, Claudia and Lucilialeaned silently over the side, while Aurelius sat under the awning withOctavia, talking of Rome. Beautiful Baiae sank farther and farther intothe background with all its palaces and temples. Still, above thetrees, a corner of the snug villa they had left was visible, and tothe left Domitia's palace. Then the vessel shifted its course, and theshining speck grew smaller and smaller till it was lost to sight.
Claudia wiped away a stealing tear, while Lucilia in a clear, ringingvoice shouted across the waters:
"Farewell, lovely Baiae!"
FOOTNOTES:
[113] THE SECOND HOUR AFTER SUNRISE. The Romans divided the day, from sunrise to sunset, into twelve hours. These were of course shorter in winter than in summer. The events spoken of in this chapter are supposed to have taken place about the time of the equinox, so 'the second hour' would be between seven and eight. The night, between sunset and sunrise, was likewise divided into four vigils or watches of three hours each.
[114] THE GADFLY OF JUNO. The jealous queen of heaven, Hera, (called by the Romans Juno) transformed the beautiful daughter of Inachus, Io, who was beloved by Jupiter, into a cow, and ordered her to be persecuted by a gadfly.
[115] THE GREAT CITY. The population of Rome, under the emperors, was a little less than two millions, but largely exceeded one million. There are no exact statements; but calculations have been made from different standpoints, which give about the same result. The most important points to be considered here, are first the extent of surface occupied by imperial Rome, and secondly the estimates of ancient writers concerning the consumption of grain, which in the time of Josephus amounted to 60.000,000 bushels yearly. Here too, may be mentioned the somewhat hyperbolical passage, Arist. _Encom. Rom._ p. 199, where it is asserted that Rome would fill the whole width of Italy to the Adriatic Sea, if the stories of the houses, instead of being piled one above another, had been built on the ground.
[116] LACERNA. A light woollen cloak, worn either in place of the toga or tunic, or, which was more customary, as an outside wrap over the toga. White lacernae were the most elegant.
[117] HE RAVED ABOUT THE SEA. The Romans' love for the sea is proved by many passages in their literature, but still more by the ruins of their villas and palaces, which bordered its most beautiful shores, and were praised by contemporaries for their views, (Friedlander, _Sittengesch._, II, p. 129).
[118] PLINY THE YOUNGER. C. Plinius Caecilius Secundus, a nephew and adopted son of the older Pliny, was born A.D. 62, at Novum Comum, now Como, on the Lake Larius, Lake of Como, on the banks of which he had
several villas. (_Ep._ IX. 7.) He died about the year 114. A clever writer, a skilful statesman, an enthusiast for everything good and beautiful, he possessed an amiable character, but cannot be wholly absolved from the reproach of self-sufficiency. His writings, especially his letters, are an important source of information concerning the social conditions of that period. The passage in Pliny to which allusion is here made, runs: "Oh, sea! Oh, strand! Thou beloved Museion! How much ye compose and create for me!"
[119] ON ITS PIVOT. Doors were not usually hung on hinges, as with us, but had on their upper and lower edges wedge-shaped pivots (_cardines_) which fitted into corresponding depressions in the threshold and upper part of the frame.
[120] FRIEND. Quintus would speak of Eurymachus as the 'friend' of Euterpe with intentional double meaning, half in the usual honest sense, but partly too in the sense which the feminine form, _amica_, had acquired in the course of time; a signification so ambiguous, that the bluntest frankness was better.
[121] SESAME CAKE. _Sesamum_ [Greek: sesamon] was a plant with pods, from whose fruit was obtained a savory meal or oil.
[122] THE USE OF SPOONS was not so general in Rome as with us, but was certainly customary for eating eggs in good society.
[123] HYMENAEUS. A well-known poem by Catullus; the burden is: "_O Hymen, Hymenae!_" (Carmen 61, _Collis o Heliconis_.)
[124] CAIUS (OR QUINTUS) VALERIUS CATULLUS was a native of Verona (B.C. 77) and died at the age of thirty. His works were most popular at the period of our story. Martial frequently compares himself with Catullus as a recognized classic, and in one passage hopes that he may one day be esteemed as second only to Catullus. Herodianus takes one of Catullus's poems as a model, just as a worthy citizen of Germany, who wished to essay lyric poetry, might copy Schiller.