The squall had completely died away; the waves were still tossing and tumbling in the bay, but the streamers of the crowd of barks, which lay under the shore, hardly fluttered in the breeze, and the fishing-boats were putting out to sea in little fleets.
Gay and busy was the scene on the quays of Baiae; distinguished visitors from every part of the vast empire were driving, riding or walking on the lava-paved sea-wall, and the long roads round the harbor. Elegantly-dressed ladies in magnificent litters were borne by Sicambri in red livery, or by woolly-headed Ethiopians. Lower down a crowd of sailors shouted and struggled, and weather-beaten porters in Phrygian caps urgently offered their services, while vendors of cakes and fruit shrilly advertised the quality of their fragrant goods. Behind this bustling foreground of unresting and eager activity rose the amphitheatre of buildings that composed the town. Aurelius had been charmed with Panormus and Gades, but he now had to confess that they both must yield the palm in comparison with this, the finest pleasure-resort and bathing-place in the world. Palace was ranged above palace, villa beyond villa, temple above temple. Amid an ocean of greenery stood statues, halls, theatres and baths; as far round as the promontory of Misenum the shores of the bay were one long town of villas, gorgeous with the combined splendors of wealth, and of natural beauty.
The two ladies and their cortège proceeded for some distance along the shore of the harbor, and then turned up-hill in the direction of Cumae. In front walked eight or ten slaves who cleared the way; then came Octavia, her litter borne by six bronze-hued Lusitanians. Claudia shared her litter with Baucis, while Herodianus, Magus, Octavia’s rowers, and a few servants with various bundles followed on foot. Aurelius had mounted his Hispanian horse and rode by the side of the little caravan, sometimes in front, sometimes behind, and enquiring the way, now of Octavia and now of Claudia and Baucis.
“Our villa is quite at the top of the ridge,” said Claudia. “There, where the holm oaks come down to the fig gardens.”
“What?” cried Aurelius in surprise. “That great pillared building, half buried in the woods to the left?”
“No, no,” said the girl laughing; “the gods have not housed us so magnificently. To the right--that little villa in the knoll.”
“Ah!” cried the Batavian; the disappointment was evidently a very pleasant one. “And whose is that vast palace?”
“It belongs to Domitia, Caesar’s wife. Since she has lived separate from her imperial lord, she always spends the summer here.”
The road grew steeper as they mounted.
“Oh merciful power!” sighed the worthy Baucis, “to think that these fine young men should be made to toil thus for an old woman! By Osiris! I am ashamed of myself. To carry you, sweet Claudia, is indeed a pleasure--but me, wrinkled old Baucis! If I had not sprained my ribs--as sure as I live...! But I will reward them for it; each man shall have a little jar of Nile-water.”
“Do not be uneasy on their account,” said Herodianus, wiping his brow. “Our Northmen are used to heavier burdens!” Then, turning to Magus, he went on: “By all the gods, I entreat you--a draught of Caecubum! I am bound to carry this weary load,” and he slapped his round paunch, “this Erymanthian boar, like a second Hercules, to the top of the hill on my own unaided legs! and I am dropping with exhaustion.”
The Goth smiled and signed to one of the slaves, who was carrying wine and other refreshments.
“The wine of Caecubus,” said Herodianus, “is especially good against fatigue. Dionysus, gracious giver, I sacrifice to thee!” and as he spoke he shed a few drops as a libation on the earth and then emptied the cup with the promptitude of a practised drinker.
In about twenty minutes more they reached Octavia’s house; in the vestibule a young girl came running out to meet them.
“Mother, dear, sweet mother!” she cried excitedly, “and Claudia, my darling! Here you are at last. Oh! we have been so dreadfully frightened, Quintus and I; that awful storm! the whole bay was churned up, as white as milk. But oh! I am glad to have you safe again! Quintus! Quintus!...”
And she flew back into the house, where they heard her fresh, happy voice still calling: “Quintus!”
“My adopted daughter,” said Octavia, in answer to an enquiring glance from Aurelius.
“Lucilia,” added Claudia, “whom I love as if she were my own real sister.”
Aurelius, who had sprung from his horse, throwing the bridle to his faithful Magus, was on the point of conducting Octavia into the atrium, when a youth of remarkable beauty appeared in the door-way and silently clasped this lady in his arms. Then he pressed a long and loving kiss on Claudia’s lips, and it was not till after he had thus welcomed the mother and daughter, that he turned hesitatingly to Aurelius, who stood on one side blushing deeply; a sign from Octavia postponed all explanation. The whole party entered the house, and it was not till they were standing in the pillared hall, where marble seats piled with cushions invited them to repose, that Octavia said to the astonished youth with a certain solemnity of mien:
“Quintus, my son, it is to this stranger--the noble and illustrious Caius Aurelius Menapius, of Trajectum, in the land of the Batavi--that you owe it that you see us here now. He took us on board his trireme, for our boat was sinking. I declare myself his debtor henceforth forever. Do you, on your part, show him all the hospitality and regard that he deserves.” Quintus came forward and embraced Aurelius.
“I hope, my lord,” he said with an engaging smile, “that you will for some time give us the honor of your company and so give us, your debtors, the opportunity we desire of becoming your friends.”
“He has already promised to do so,” said Octavia.
Lucilia now joined them, having put on a handsomer dress in honor of the stranger, and stuck a rose into her chestnut hair; she sat down by Claudia and took her hand, leaning her head against her shoulder.
“But tell us the whole story!” cried Quintus. “I am burning to hear a full and exact account of your adventure.”
Octavia told her tale; one thing gave rise to another, and before they thought it possible, it was the hour for dinner--the first serious meal of the day, at about noon--and they adjourned to the triclinium.
Under no circumstances do people so soon wax intimate as at meals. Aurelius, who until now had listened more than he had spoken, soon became talkative under the cool and comfortable vaulted roof of the eating-room, and he grew quite eager and vivacious as he told of his long and dangerous voyage, of the towns he had visited, and particularly of his distant home in the north. He spoke of his distinguished father, who, as a merchant, had travelled eastwards to the remote lands east of the peninsula of the Cimbri and to the fog-veiled shores of the Guttoni, the Aestui and the Scandii; indeed Aurelius himself knew much of the wonders and peculiarities of these little-visited lands, for he had three times accompanied his father. Many a time on these expeditions had they passed the night in lonely settlements or hamlets, where not a soul among the natives understood the Roman tongue, where the bear and the aurochs fought in the neighboring woods, or eternal terrors brooded over the boundless plain.
These pictures of inhospitable and desert regions, which Aurelius so vividly brought before their fancy, were those which best pleased his hearers. Here, close to the luxurious town, and surrounded by everything that could add comfort and enjoyment to life, the idea of perils so remote seemed to double their appreciation. When they rose from table the ladies withdrew, to indulge in that private repose which was customary of an afternoon. Lucilia could not forbear whispering to her companion, that she would far rather have remained with the young men--that Aurelius was a quite delightful creature, modest and frank, and at the same time upright and steady--a rock in the sea on which the Pharos of a life’s happiness might be securely founded.
“You know,” she added earnestly, while her eyes sparkled with excitement from under her thick curls, “Quintus is far handsomer--he is exactly like the Apollo in the Golden House by the Esquiline. But he is also like the gods, in that he is apt to vanish suddenly behind a cloud, and is gone. Now Aurelius, or my soul deceives me, would be constant to those he loved. It is a pity that his rank is no higher than that of knight, and that he is so unlucky as to be a native of Trajectum.”
“Oh! you thorough Roman!” laughed Claudia. “No one is good for anything in your eyes, that was not born within sight of the Seven Hills.”
She put her arm round her gay companion, and carried her off half-resisting to their quiet sleeping-room.
Neither Quintus nor Aurelius cared to follow the example of the ladies--not the Roman, for he had slept on late into the day--nor the stranger, for the excitement of this eventful morning had fevered his blood. Besides, there was the temptation of an atmosphere as of Paradise, uniting the glory and plenitude of summer with the fresh transparency of autumn. During dinner Aurelius had turned again and again to look through the wide door-way at the beautiful scene without, and now he crossed the threshold and filled his spirit with the loveliness before him. Here was not--as in the formal gardens of Rome--a parterre where everything was planned by line and square; here were no trained trees and hedges, circular beds or clipped shrubs. All was free and wholesome Nature, lavish and thriving vitality. The paths alone, leading from the villa in three directions into the wood, betrayed the care of man. The whole vegetation of the happy land of Campania seemed to have been brought together on the slope below. Huge plane-trees, on which vines hung their garlands, lifted their heads above the holm-oaks and gnarled quinces. The broad-leaved fig glistened by the side of the grey-green olive; here stood a clump of stalwart pines, there wide-spreading walnuts and slender poplars. Below them was a wild confusion of brush-wood and creepers; ivy, periwinkle and acanthus entangled the giants of the wood with an inextricable network. Maiden-hair hung in luxuriant tufts above the myrtles and bays, and sombre evergreens contrasted with the brilliant centifolia. In short the whole plant-world of southern Italy here held an intoxicating orgy. Quintus seemed to divine the thoughts of the young Northman, and put his hand confidingly through his guest’s arm, and so they walked on, taking the middle path of the three before them, and gently mounting the hill.
“I can see,” said Quintus, “that you are a lover of Nature; I quite understand that a garden at Baiae must seem enchanting to you, who came hither from the region of Boreas himself, where the birch and the beech can scarcely thrive. But you can only form a complete idea of it from the top of the hill; we have built a sort of temple there and the view is unequalled....”
“You are greatly to be envied,” said Aurelius. “And how is it that Titus Claudius, your illustrious father, does not enjoy himself on this lovely estate, instead of living in Rome as I hear he does?”
“As priest to the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus he is tied to the capital. The rules forbid his ever quitting it for more than a night at a time. Dignity, you see, brings its own burdens, and not even the greatest can have everything their own way. Many a time has my father longed to be away from the turbulent metropolis--but no god has broken his chains. Unfulfilled desires are the lot of all men.”
He spoke with such emphasis, that the stranger glanced at him.
“What desire of yours can be unfulfilled?”
A meaning smile parted the Roman’s lips.
“If you are thinking of things which gold and silver will purchase, certainly I lack little. Everything may be had in Rome for money; everything--excepting one thing; the stilling of our craving for happiness.”
“What do you understand by that?”
“Can you ask me? I, here and as you see me, am a favorite of fortune, rich and independent by my grandfather’s will, which left me possessed of several millions at an early age--as free and healthy as a bird--strong and well-grown and expert in all that is expected of a young fellow in my position. I had hardly to do more than put out my hand, to acquire the most influential position and the highest offices and honors--to become Praetor or Consul. I am well received at court, and look boldly in the face of Caesar, before whom so many tremble. I am betrothed to a maiden as fair as Aphrodite herself, and a hundred others, no less fair, would give years of their lives to call me their lover for a week--and yet--have you ever felt what it is to loathe your existence?”
“No!” said Aurelius.
“Then you are divine, among mortals. You see, weeks and months go by in the turmoil of enjoyment; the bewildered brain is incapable of following it all--then life is endurable. My cup wreathed with roses, a fiery-eyed dancer from Gades by my side, floating on the giddy whirl of luxury, as mad and thoughtless as a thyrsus-bearer at the feast of Dionysus--under such conditions I can bear it for a while. But here, where my unoccupied mind is thrown back upon itself....”
“But what you say,” interrupted Aurelius, “proves not that you are satiated with the joys of life, so much as--you will forgive my plainness--that you are satiated with excess. You are betrothed, you say, and yet you can feel a flame for a fiery-eyed Gaditanian. In my country a man keeps away from all other girls, when he has chosen his bride.”
“Oh yes! I know that morality has taken refuge in the provinces,” said Quintus ironically. “But the youth of Rome go to work somewhat differently, and no one thinks the worse of us for it. Of course we avoid public comment, which otherwise is anxiously courted--but we live nevertheless just as the humor takes us.”
Aurelius shook his head doubtfully.
“Well, well,” said Quintus. “You good folks in the north have a stricter code--Tacitus describes the savage Germanic tribes as almost equally severe. But Rome is Roman.--No prayers can alter that; and after all you get used to it! I believe Cornelia herself would hardly scold if she heard.... Besides, it is in the air. Old Cato has long, long been forgotten, and the new Babylon by the Tiber wants pleasure--will have pleasure, for in pleasure alone can she find her vocation and the justification of her existence.”
“And does your bride live in the capital?” asked Aurelius after a pause.
“At Tibur,” replied Quintus. “Her uncle, Cornelius Cinna, avoids the neighborhood of the court on principle. The fact that Domitia resides here is quite enough to make him hate Baiae--although, as you know, Domitia has long ceased to belong to Caesar’s court.”
Aurelius was silent. Often had his worldly-wise father warned him never to speak of affairs of state or even of the throne, excepting in the narrowest circle of his most trusted friends; under the reign of terror of Domitian, the most trivial remark might prove fateful to the speaker. The numerous spies, known as delators, who had found their way everywhere, scenting their prey, had undermined all mutual confidence and trust to such an extent that friends feared each other; the patron trembled before his client, and the master before his slave. Although the manner and address of his host invited confidence, caution was always on the safe side, all the more so as the young Roman was evidently an ally of the court party. So the Northman checked the utterance of that fierce patriotism, which the hated name of Domitian had so painfully stirred in his soul. “Unhappy Rome!” thought he: “What can and must become of you, if men like this Quintus have no feeling for your disgrace and needs?”
The next turn in the path brought them within sight of the little temple; marble steps, half covered with creepers, led through a Corinthian portico into the airy hall within. The panorama from this spot was indeed magnificent; far below lay the blue waters of the bay, with the stupendous bridge of Nero; farther away lay Baiae with its thousand palaces and the forest of masts by Puteoli; beyond these, Parthenope, beautiful Surrentum, and the shining islands bathed by the boundless sea; the vaporous cloud from Vesuvius hung like a cone of snow in the still blue atmosphere. To the north the horizon was bounded by the bay of Caieta the Lucrine lake and the wooded slopes of Cumae. The foreground was no less enchanting; all round the pavilion lay a verdurous and luxuriant wilderness, and hardly a hundred paces from the spot rose the colossal palace of the Empress, shaded by venerable trees. The mysterious silence of noon brooded over the whole landscape; only a faint hum of life came up from the seaport. All else was still, not a living creature seemed to breathe within ear-shot....
Suddenly a sound came through the air, like a suppressed groan; Aurelius looked round--out there, there where the branches parted in an arch to form a vista down into the valley--there was a white object, something like a human form. The young foreigner involuntarily pointed that way.
“Look there, Quintus!” he whispered to his companion.
“That is part of the Empress’s grounds,” replied the Roman.
“But do you see nothing there by the trunk of that plane-tree? About six--eight paces on the other side of the laurel-hedge? Hark! there is that groan again.”
“Pah! Some slave or another who has been flogged. Stephanus, Domitia’s steward, is one of those who know how to make themselves obeyed.”
“But it was such a deep, heartrending sigh!”
“No doubt,” laughed Quintus; “Stephanus is no trifler. Where his lash falls the skin comes off; then he is apt to tie up the men he has flogged in the wood here, where the gnats....”
“Hideous!” cried Aurelius interrupting him. “Let us run down and set the poor wretch free!”
“I will take good care to do nothing of the kind. We have no right in the world to do such a thing.”
“Well, at any rate, I will find out what he has done wrong. His torturer’s brutality makes me hot with indignation!”
So speaking he walked straight down the hill through the brushwood. Quintus followed, not over-pleased at the incident; and he was very near giving vent to his annoyance when a swaying branch hit him sharply on the forehead. But the native courtesy, the urbanity or town breeding, which distinguished every Roman, prevailed, and in a few minutes they had reached the laurel-hedge. Quintus was surprised to find himself in front of a tolerably wide gap, which could not have been made by accident; but there the young men paused, for Quintus hesitated to trespass on the Empress’s grounds.
The sight which met his eyes was a common one enough to the blunted nerves of the Roman, but Aurelius was deeply moved. A pale, bearded man, young, but with a singularly resolute expression, stood fettered to a wooden post, his back dreadfully lacerated by a stick or lash, while swarms of insects buzzed round his bleeding body.
“Hapless wretch!” cried Aurelius. “What have you done, that you should atone for it so cruelly?”
The slave groaned, glanced up to heaven and said in a choked voice:
“I did my duty.”
“And are men punished in your country for doing their duty?” asked the Batavian frowning, and, unable any longer to control himself, he went straight up to the victim and prepared to release him. The slave’s face lighted up with pleasure.
“I thank you, stranger,” he said with emotion, “but if you were to release me, it would be doing me an ill-turn. Fresh torture would be all that would come of it. Let me be; I have borne the like before now; I have only another hour to hold out. If you feel kindly towards me, go away, leave me! Woe is me if any one sees you here!”
Quintus now came up to him; this really heroic resignation excited his astonishment, nay, his admiration.
“Man,” said he, waving away the swarm of gnats with his hand, “are you a disciple of the Stoa, or yourself a demi-god? Who in the world has taught you thus to contemn pain?”
“My lord,” replied the slave, “many better than I have endured greater suffering.”
“Greater suffering--yes, but to greater ends. A Regulus, a Scaevola have suffered for their country; but you--a wretched slave, a grain of sand among millions--you, whose sufferings are of no more account than the death of a trapped jackal--where do you find this indomitable courage? What god has endowed you with such superhuman strength?”
A beatific smile stole over the man’s drawn features.
“The one true God,” he replied with fervent emphasis, “who has pity on the feeble; the all-merciful God, who loves the poor and abject.”
A step was heard approaching.
“Leave me here alone!” the slave implored them. “It is the overseer.”
Quintus and Aurelius withdrew silently, but from the top of the copse they could see a hump-backed figure that came muttering and grumbling up to where the slave was bound, released him presently from the stake and led him away into the gardens. For a minute or two longer the young men lingered under the pavilion and then, lost in thought, returned to the house. Their conversation could not be revived.
FOOTNOTES:
LAVA BLOCKS. The usual material for pavements in central and southern Italy.
SICAMBRI. A powerful German tribe, occupying in the time of Caesar the eastern bank of the Rhine, and extending from the Sieg to the Lippe.
RED LIVERY. The usual costume of the litter-bearers in the time of the emperors.
WOOLLY-HEADED ETHIOPIANS. The name Ethiopian Αἰθίοπες in its more restricted sense, applies to the inhabitants of Upper Egypt; in a more general meaning to the whole population of North-eastern Africa, and South-western Asia. According to Herodotus (VII, 70) the Ethiopians dwelling in the East had smooth, those in the West woolly hair.
BATHS (thermae, θέρμαι, that is “warm baths”) were public bathing-establishments on the grandest scale, modelled after the Greek wrestling-schools. See Becker, Gallus III, p. 68 and following.
CUMAE (Κύμη) now Cuma, the oldest of the Greek colonies in Italy, beyond the mountain range that bounds the bay of Baja on the west; it is only a few thousand paces from Baja.
IN FRONT WALKED EIGHT OR TEN SLAVES. Such a vanguard was customary among people of distinction, even when they went on foot.
LUSITANIANS. A people living in the region now known as
Portugal, between the Tagus (Tajo, Tejo) and Durius,
(Duero, Douro.)
CAECUBUM. A district on the shores of the bay of Gaeta, famous for its wine. See (Horace Od. I, 20, 9 and I, 37, 5) where it is said, that it would be positively sinful to bring Caecubian wine from the cellar with other kinds on ordinary occasions (antehac nefas depromere Caecubum cellis avitis, etc.).
ERYMANTHIAN BOAR. So called from Mt. Erymanthus in Arcadia, where the animal lived until slain by Hercules.
DIONYSUS. A surname of Bacchus.
LIBATION. Wine poured as an offering to the gods.
VESTIBULUM. The space in front of the house-door (fores) which in the time of the imperial government was frequently covered with a portico.
ADOPTED DAUGHTER. The adoption of a child in ancient Rome was regulated by very strict laws. Adoption in its narrower sense (adoptio) extended to persons who were still under paternal authority; with self-dependent persons the so-called arrogatio took place. With women this last form was entirely excluded.
ATRIUM. From the door of the house a narrow passage (ostium) led to the first inner court, the atrium, so-called because this space, where the hearth originally was, was blackened by the smoke (ater). The atrium, which in the more ancient Roman houses possessed the character of a room with a comparatively small opening in the roof, and afterwards resembled a court-yard, was at first the central point of family life, the sitting-room, where the industrious house-keeper sat enthroned among her slaves. When republican simplicity gave way to luxury, the atrium became the hall devoted to the reception of guests, and domestic life was confined to the more retired apartments.
TRICLINIUM, (triple couch) really the sofa on which three, and sometimes even more persons reclined at table; the name was also given to the dining-room itself, which comprised the second inner court-yard, the so-called peristyle or cavaedium.
CIMBRIAN PENINSULA, now called Jutland.
GUTTONI. A German race on the lower Vistula.
AESTUI. A German race living on the coast of Revel.
SCANDII. Inhabitants of southern Sweden.
THE SENSE OF CONTRAST was a conspicuous trait in Roman character. They were wont to heighten their appreciation of the joys of life by images of death, and the dining-room was intentionally placed so as to afford a view of tombs.
THE GOLDEN HOUSE (domus aurea). The name given to the magnificent palace of Nero, which extended from the Palatine Hill across the valley and up again as far as the gardens of Macaenas on the Esquiline. It contained an enormous number of the choicest works in statuary. Vespasian had a large part of this building pulled down.
THE SEVEN HILLS. Contempt for all who lived in the provinces was peculiar to all Romans, even the lowest classes of the populace. Thus Cicero says: “Cum infimo cive romano quisquam amplissimus Galliae comparandus est?” (Can even the most distinguished Gaul be compared with the humblest Roman citizen?) This prejudice extended to later centuries, though under the first emperors numerous inhabitants of the provinces attained the rank of senator and reached the highest offices. It is very comical, when Juvenal, a freedman’s son, treats the “knights from Asia Minor,” (Equites Asiani) condescendingly, as if they were intruders, unworthy to unfasten the straps of his sandals. Inhabitants of the other provinces were held in higher esteem than the Greeks and Orientals. But even Tacitus (Ann. IV, 3.) regards it as an aggravation of the crime committed by the wife of Drusus, that Sejanus, for whom she broke her marriage-vow, was not a full-blooded Roman, but merely a knight from Volsinii.
THE FORMAL GARDENS OF ROME. The taste of the Romans in regard to the art of gardening resembled that shown at Versailles. The eloquence with which individual authors urge a return to nature (Hor. Epist. I, 10, Prop. I, 2, Juv. Sat. III, etc.,) only proves that the opposite course was universal. Clipping bushes and trees into artificial forms was considered specially fashionable. Thus Pliny the younger, in his description of the Tuscan villa (Ep. V, 6,) writes: “Before the colonnade is an open terrace, surrounded with box, the trees clipped into various shapes; below it a steep slope of lawn, at whose foot, on both sides of the path, stand bushes of box, shaped into the forms of various animals. On the level ground the acanthus grows delicately, I might almost say transparently. Around it is a hedge of thick closely-clipped bushes, and around this hedge runs an avenue of circular form, adorned with box clipped into various shapes, and small trees artistically trimmed. The whole is surrounded by a wall, concealed by box.” Then towards the end of the letter: “The box is clipped into a thousand shapes, sometimes into letters, that form the name of the owner or gardener.”
JUPITER CAPITOLINUS. The priests of certain divinities were called Flamines and the chief of these was the Flamen Dialis or priest of Jupiter--called Capitolinus from the hill on which the temple stood. Tacitus (Ann. III, 71,) tells us of the prohibition here spoken of.
THE PRAETORSHIP AND CONSULSHIP were still, under the emperors, an object of ardent desire, in spite of the fact that these offices had been stripped of all power.
GADES, now Cadiz, was famous for its dancers of easy morality. (See Juv. Sat. XI, 162.)
THYRSUS, (θύρσος) a pole or wand wreathed with vine and ivy leaves, and borne by Bacchus and by Bacchantes.
BRIDGE OF NERO. One of this emperor’s mad undertakings was the construction, at an enormous expense, of a perfectly useless bridge aslant across the bay of Baiae.
SURRENTUM, now Sorrento.
CAIETA, now Gaëta.
URBANITAS. Literally: city training.
A PALE, BEARDED MAN. Wearing beards first became general under the Emperor Hadrian. At the time of this story it was still the custom among the higher classes (but not among the lower ones and the slaves) to shave off the beard after the twenty-first year.
STOA. The school of the stoics; so named from the pillared hall (ποικίλη στοά) at Athens, where Zeno, the founder, taught. The doctrine inculcated was the subjugation of physical and moral evil by individual heroism.
