“Indeed, how is that?” asked Cornelia severely. “Did I not give him full and exact instructions? He seems to have a short memory.”
“Excuse us, dear mistress – but he had not counted on Cocceius Nerva. Come and help us, pray.”
Cornelia frowned, but did as she was requested; her pallid face colored scarlet; such a question seemed to her vulgar and trivial, and she felt that shock to her taste which jars on a superior nature, when the details of daily life intrude on a moment of exalted feeling. Those roses from Paestum,233 that thought of Quintus! what a delicious flood of happy feeling they symbolized! And Chloe’s appearance, in the very midst of this beauty and happiness, wounded her like the empty farcicality of an Atellanian buffoon.234
Aurelius and Claudia were left to gaze at the display of birthday gifts with redoubled attention; you might have fancied they had never before seen such things as flowers or bracelets.
“How delicious!” said Claudia breathing the perfume of a splendid rose-bush.
“Delicious!” echoed Aurelius, putting his face close to the flowers. “And look at this strange bird! How naturally it sits with its wings spread out – exactly as if it were alive.”
“It is a parrot from the banks of the Indus.”
“Or a phoenix235…”
“A phoenix? I thought that story of Tacitus’ was a mere fable.”
“Nay, not altogether. The marvellous bird, which burns its father or itself and then rises from its ashes in renewed youth, is no doubt a myth. But does not Pliny tell us of a real phoenix, which builds its nest at the sources of the Nile and shines like pure gold?”
“What, seriously?” and she gently stroked the neck of the stuffed bird with her finger.
“How soft it feels!” she said.
“Like crape from Cos,"236 said Aurelius, doing the same. His hand touched hers, and Claudia colored. She hastily stooped over a book lying close by – the “Thebais” of Statius – and read the title, written in gold on the outside of the roll.
“A capital work,” said the Batavian, “I read it some time since in Trajectum.”
“And to me, a Roman, it remains unknown.”
“If you only desire it, I will go to-morrow morning to the bookseller in the Argiletum and bring you the best copy I can find.”
“Oh! you are too kind!” replied Claudia.
Then there was a pause, while Aurelius examined with the greatest interest the quality of some flaxen cloth from Cordova. At last he began hesitatingly:
“If you will not think it too bold, allow me to propose…”
“Speak on,” said Claudia, again bending over the “Thebais.”
“I should be only too happy, if I might be allowed to read this masterpiece of Statius aloud to you. Without wishing to boast, I have had a good deal of practice in reading and declamation, and, – as you know, epic237 poetry was originally intended for recitation.”
“Of course; it is for that very reason called epic. I may own too, that there is nothing I like better than to hear good reading. Quintus reads very well, but he rarely has time or is in the humor.”
“You will allow me then?”
“I beg you to be so good.”
“And when?”
“That we will settle presently; just now, I see, they are going to table.”
“Where have you hidden yourselves?” cried Lucilia flying into the hall as lightly as a deer. “I have been seeking you everywhere. Come, make haste; I am desperately hungry.”
“She is hungry!” thought Claudia with a glance up to heaven. “I hardly know whether to envy her or to pity her!”
CHAPTER XI
The meal was ended; Cocceius Nerva had proposed the health of Cornelia as the heroine of the day. After offering a libation, according to the ancient custom, he invoked the favor and mercy of the Immortals on the young girl; then he rose and left the triclinium. The whole company followed him, to listen to the sweet tones of soft music in the fresher air of the peristyle, and to walk up and down on the inlaid marble floor, chatting in low tones. Bronze lamps shed their light from between the Corinthian pillars, and the stars shone down from the cloudless skies; in the court itself a confidential twilight prevailed.
“Now, my sweet Claudia, tell me, how do you like Trajan?"238 whispered Lucilia in her sister’s ear as she stood meditatively by the fountain.
“I have only seen him to-day for the third time – how can I judge?”
“To me he is quite too delightful. What a pity that he is already married. – To be sure, even then he would be too old…”
“Do you think so?” said Claudia absently.
“Why, you seem to have forgotten that he was consul a long time ago.”
“Was he?”
“Yes, of course, with Glabrio. How often your father has spoken of him.”
“I do not happen to remember it.”
“To be sure, we were still in the nursery, and stories of Cupid and Psyche239 interested us more than the virtues of a statesman.”
Claudia sighed: “Happy childhood!” she said sadly.
“Nerva even – old Nerva – thinks great things of him,” Lucilia went on, without observing this diversion. “He calls him his son, and is always ready to listen to his counsels – and in fact it is well worth while to listen to what Trajan has to say. You cannot think how cleverly, how wisely and judiciously he can talk. And at the same time he is so honest, so simple, so unpretentious! No one would imagine from his appearance, that he once was the commander-in-chief of all the forces in Germany, with unlimited authority, and won a glorious victory.”
“Where in the world did you acquire all this information as to his merits? – Whenever I looked across at you, you were chatting with Caius Afranius.”
“Cneius, not Caius.”
“I thought it was Caius. Considering it was your first meeting, your conversation with this Afranius was somewhat eager.”
“Oh! I had met him before – a week or more ago; do you not remember? The day you had a headache. He is intimate with Cornelius. He has been in Rome since the beginning of March, and is already beginning to play an important part in the Forum.”240
“Is he a jurist?” asked Claudia.
“A defender of the oppressed and accuser of the criminal!” answered Lucilia warmly. “He has even gained a cause, quite lately, against Clodianus, Caesar’s adjutant. His eloquence and powerful argument won him the victory, in spite of all his adversary’s art, and the impression he made was so tremendous, that for the moment every one forgot how dangerous it is to have Clodianus for an enemy. The whole Basilica241 shook with the applause.”
“Did he himself tell you this?”
“Certainly not! I heard it from Ulpius Trajanus.”
“And that no doubt is what makes you think Trajan so amiable?”
“Silly child! Do you suppose…? You know, my dear, that when folks are in love, they see the whole world from one point of view.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean that you would say with Theognis242 of Megara, that amiable poet:
‘Temper the pangs of love and assuage the torments, O Goddess,
That gnaw my heart! Oh! restore my joy and contentment.’”
“You are incorrigible!” said Claudia.
But Lucilia, with a merry twinkle in her eye, laid her hand on her companion’s shoulder, saying softly: “Ah! fluttering heart, it is vain to try concealment! Your Lucilia’s experience and knowledge of mankind can see through every disguise. ‘Restore my joy, bring Aurelius to my side.’ It is the wolf in the fable – he comes softly down on his prey with a tender, elegiac grace! Sigh again – with Sappho this time – :
‘Woe is me! my tremulous heart beats faintly —
Thou art near! My faltering voice refuses utterance even!’”
And she glided off, while Claudia stood gazing fixedly at the sparkling water in the basin. In her somewhat hasty retreat, Lucilia ran up against the broad back of Herodianus, who was clinging convulsively to the back of a chair with both hands, and leaning over it gazed up, as if spellbound, in silent contemplation at the star-spangled sky.
“I beg your pardon, old sinner!"243 said the girl saucily, as she passed on; but a deep sigh from the freedman made her pause.
“What is the matter, oh! boon companion from the North? Are you suffering from apoplexy? or do you wish to become a mathematician?244 Why are you staring so dolefully up at the Pleiades?”
“Ah! sweet mistress – what is it the Greek sage says? ‘All things flow away!’245 I too am flowing away. I do not know how I feel.”
“The wine-cup could answer that perhaps,” suggested Lucilia.
“No indeed – my feeble constitution to be sure – and that Caecubum was excellent. Perhaps it has flowed through all my limbs – but with all respect be it said, I am used to that. – And a sense of propriety – but you see, mistress, I cannot stir from the spot, and at the same time – oh no! it is not the wine, for I feel full of lofty ideas; my head is clear – uplifted, I might say, to Olympian heights – like Pelion piled on Ossa. Oh fair lady! you who are kindness itself, allow me to ask you one question…!”
“Speak, you shameless toper; but first sit down, for I foresee the moment when, if you do not, the chair will slide away on the polished pavement and you will fall on the top of it.”
“You are right, mistress – and it is all in my knees! my miserable legs – you are very right, the pavement is slippery. Why are pavements so polished, I wonder? Very well, then I will sit down. Excuse me if I seem to have some difficulty in doing so. – The gods have doomed the fat to labor and sweat. – There, now I am seated.”
“By Lyaeus,246 but you are a scandal! Here, even here, in the house of Cinna, where temperance reigns supreme…”
“Temperance is good – I knew that long ago, fair Lucilia. – But now, lend me your ear. Who – who – was that magnificent creature – that splendidly-developed woman who sat at the end, quite at the bottom of the table, not far from your worthy – your – what is her name – Baucis. She wore a brown dress – an elegant bracelet clasped her arm…”
“Who can you mean?” asked Lucilia, looking round her; Herodianus also looked about.
“There, there she is,” he whispered rapturously: “She is talking to Ulpius Trajanus. Ye gods! what a form! what grace and dignity!”
Lucilia made a desperate effort and swallowed her laughter.
“That?” she said, irresistibly tempted to carry on the jest: “That short, stout woman by the pillar?”
“Just going into the hall.”
“That is Chloe, who brought up our sweet friend Cornelia. She is a native of Antium, the daughter of a freedman, six and thirty years of age, unmarried, and possessor of a little fortune – what more can heart desire? In truth, Herodianus, I admire your distinguished taste: that round face, that short fat throat, that wide mouth – wider even than mine – are these not heaven-sent gifts from Cypris herself?”
“To me she is divine. Past the first bud of youth, mature in body and mind; Chloe stirs my soul to feelings, which till this hour I had never appreciated. Fifty years old – and even now unblest with the joys of family life! Oh Chloe! Chloe! If only you had crossed my path earlier!.. I … I might not have drunk so much Caecubum and Falernian! When Hymen opens his bosom to receive us, the rock of offence fades away… Alas mistress, if the spring-tide of life could but blossom for me once more! If I could again rest my head on the bosom of a loving woman…! Trajectum, city of my heart, home of my youth! I remember to this day how my mother – for the last time – cut my hair. It was up in the little corner room. How long, long ago! Oh! if only I were away, far away from here! What have I left to live for in this world? A cup of wine! Oh! woe is me!”
And he began to cry copiously, but noiselessly.
Lucilia thought it advisable to leave the man’s strange mood to run its course. “Is it in earnest or a mere craze?” she thought, as she shook her head. Then she danced off to join Cornelia, who was sitting under the arcade, listening with half indifferent attention to the muttered counsels of Baucis.
“What Pythian wisdom are you uttering now, O blue-robed Baucis?” asked Lucilia, patting the slave-woman lightly on the shoulder.
“Wisdom that you would do well to profit by,” retorted Baucis. “A new veil or an amusing book is, I know, dearer to you far than the most sacred oracles.”
“Indeed? Who told you that? Chatter away in all confidence! – on the contrary – if what you told me the other day about Barbillus,247 the priest of Isis, is true…”
“I was just speaking of that very thing. Our noble Cornelia is astounded at the extraordinary miracle. Exactly at the very moment, that Barbillus had foretold, I fell in a swoon, as he had said, and saw the mysterious vision. I saw the goddess floating above me in shining white. O, ye immortals! I knew of course that it was not she herself, only her image in a dream; for how should Isis, the all powerful, condescend to come down to me, a humble slave, and to speak with me – and in Greek too! Still, I could almost have sworn that it was she, I saw her so plainly – the folds of her silvery robe, and her noble and gentle face, so lovely, oh, so lovely! as beautiful as you are, noble Cornelia. No, I maintain it; I will never apply to any other priest than Barbillus, the favorite of the gods. He will reveal my whole future life to me – only think, noble Cornelia, for the ridiculously small price of two hundred sesterces – but I did not happen to have so much about me just then. Besides – what can I expect should happen to me at my time of life? My dear Quintus has his sweet Cornelia; our darling Claudia sooner or later – well, well, I meant nothing – and you, bright Lucilia – I cannot be anxious about you. You bear your own happiness in yourself. Well, so I said very humbly: ‘Oh! my lord,’ said I, ‘no future lies before me. But I will tell the fair Cornelia, betrothed to our Quintus, that you are a true prophet – our Cornelia, who is so full of melancholy fancies, and who prays so fervently and humbly to the beneficent goddess.’ Then Barbillus gave me this precious amulet. – It is only made of horn, but the power that resides in it makes it precious.”
Cornelia had listened to her in silence, and her face was as pale as death.
“Listen,” she began after a pause: “You are advanced in age and rich in experience, and for many a year you have had to do with the chosen servants of the goddess. What do you advise me? Last night I had a dream248– a mysterious dream. I was standing alone on a vast untilled plain; everything was deserted and silent. There was not a tree, not a shrub, not a herb – rotting bones and nothing else lay hideous on the ground, but far away on the horizon shone the walls and towers of a splendid town.”
“That is full of meaning,” observed Baucis.
“Listen to the end. As I gazed at the distant and radiant city, I felt my heart swell with fervent and unspeakable longing. I struggled breathlessly to get forwards, but my feet seemed rooted to the ground. I was seized with terror, and trembling with fear I looked upwards; there I saw Quintus, high above me, but coming across the waste like Helios in the sun-chariot, and beckoning to me lovingly. I struggled, I groaned, I screamed. In vain! I held up my hands and cried out with the fervor of anguish: ‘Isis, mother of the universe! Isis, save me!’ – But the goddess was deaf. At last, after a long agony, I heard Chloe’s voice; the good soul was standing by my bed. I awoke groaning…”
“A hideous dream,” said Baucis.
“And when I question my heart, it seems to me that it bodes evil.”
“Folly!” laughed Lucilia. “I have dreamed worse things than that a hundred times, and no great event has ever happened to me. What does it mean? Why, that you were lying uncomfortably, or had read something the day before…”
Cornelia rose gravely.
“My dearest, you are not cross with me?” cried Lucilia following her.
“Not at all,” said Cornelia with a polite smile. “No, indeed, certainly not,” she added less coldly, as her eyes met Lucilia’s affectionate glance. “Come, let us be moving. Such discourse ill-beseems a festival, and to-day is to be a festival, my birthday.”
Meanwhile Caius Aurelius had found a pretext – in agreement with his promise to Cinna – for taking Quintus Claudius into his host’s study, and a minute later Cinna himself came in, accompanied by Marcus Cocceius Nerva.
“At last!” cried Cinna when all were seated. “It has been sticking in my throat like a mouthful of poison. Quintus, you too must hear what I have to say. The facts are perhaps known to you, for the house of Titus Claudius is intimately allied with the palace…”
“I know nothing, I can assure you,” interrupted Quintus, somewhat coldly.
“Well then, hear them now. I know you to be a young man of proved courage and of excellent understanding. – Until now you have taken the darkness for light and bitter for sweet, as not discerning them; your father’s strong spirit has influenced you, and his errors of judgment have descended to you. But now, my friend, use your own judgment, and ask yourself on your honor: Is Rome still Rome?”
“You really excite my curiosity,” said the young man, with more reserve than ever.
Cornelius Cinna shut the doors; then he went on in a mysterious and trembling voice:
“It was last night. Happily for you, Nerva, your ailing health had taken you into the country, and so saved you from the worst. I was lying in bed, but I could not sleep; I was tormented by a ceaseless whirl of confused thoughts, and was on the point of calling to Charicles, that he might read to me. Suddenly I heard heavy blows on the house door… ‘Porter, wake up, make haste, a message from Caesar!’”
Cocceius Nerva leaned forward eagerly in his chair; his breath came quicker and deeper as he listened. Cornelius Cinna went on.
“My bedroom door was opened, so I heard every word. I heard the porter refuse admittance. ‘Caesar requires your master’s presence at the palace,’ said a voice outside. I sprang up and ordered him to open the door. I had hardly time to throw on my toga, when Caesar’s messengers came into the atrium – men at arms belonging to the praetorian guard. ‘Our god and master Domitian249 requires you to attend immediately,’ said the officer. ‘Is the state in danger?’ I asked angrily. The soldier shrugged his shoulders; ‘I do not know,’ he said; ‘our orders are to fetch you; no reasons were given. Do not delay, noble Cinna, the litter is at the door.’”
“Unheard-of! – ” murmured Nerva, passing his fingers through his grey hair.
“I wanted to refuse; my own chair and bearers were ready – ‘That will not do,’ said the soldier: ‘You are to come alone, with no followers.’ Cinna without followers! I considered a moment, but only for a moment – then I had decided. – The situation was serious, I looked on the whole thing as a plot. ‘Caesar,’ said I to myself, ‘counts on your defying him, and hopes thus to find a pretext for your destruction – long since determined on. He will avail himself of that. He shrinks from dealing you an arbitrary blow for no reason at all, for he knows that the Romans love you, and he dreads the public resentment. Hence, if you refuse to obey, you will supply him with an excuse…!’ Well – I obeyed… Cornelius Cinna obeyed! And after all it might concern the weal or woe of the state. – As a precaution, however, I hid a phial of poison in my dress and then I told the men at arms that I was ready.”
“You acted very wisely,” said Cocceius Nerva.
“It was the wisdom of necessity. Now, listen to what seems incredible. When I reached the palace, I was received by slaves dressed all in black; they led me into a hall hung with black, where I found all the leading men of the senate and of the knightly order assembled and waiting in agonized expectation. They all, like me, had been abruptly fetched from their beds and brought thither in litters sent by Caesar. Presently we were desired to sit down, and a black column was placed in front of each man, with his name engraved upon it. Two sepulchral lamps were then lighted and youths, dressed in black, performed a solemn dance, and a funeral banquet,250 served on black dishes, closed the hideous farce. Caesar himself, calm and haughty, took the head of the table. Every one seemed paralyzed; each one expected to meet his death the next instant. Sextus, who sat by my side, was sobbing like a woman. I whispered to him to be calm – that the whole thing was a mere brutal jest, but he was not to be convinced and broke into tears.”
“He is but a coward – I know him well!” said Nerva.
“A stammering child! As for me, I really do not know myself, what gave me a conviction from the very first, that we were in no danger. Caesar would talk of nothing but things which referred to death and murder and yet, in spite of that, my confidence grew each moment. But I was burning with rage, with revengeful fury, that I could scarcely control or conceal.”
“I wonder indeed that you could bear it,” cried Nerva, drawing a deep breath. “Knowing you as I do, it is nothing less than a miracle.”
“A miracle indeed! But the Fates would not have it that Cornelius Cinna should fall into so stupid a trap. – I mastered myself. At last Caesar rose from the table and dismissed us, and the guard escorted us home again. – I was choking with shame and wrath. What am I, my friend Nerva, that I am to submit to such treatment? Am I a Roman or no? Am I Cornelius Cinna – or a slave, a dog? Was such base buffoonery ever heard of even under a Nero, or Caligula? Nay, my endurance is at an end! Sooner would I be a street porter in the meanest suburb,251 than remain senator under the burden of this intolerable yoke!”
He sank back in his chair with a groan, and covered his face. There was a long pause, which Quintus was the first to break.
“What!” he said with a scowl. “Did Caesar dare to do such things? I have long known, that he was liable to fits of extravagant whims and fancies, but – as I understood – only in his treatment of the foes of the throne. I believed in the wisdom of my venerable and learned father, when he assured me that some injustice, both apparent and real, was inevitable in the conduct of so vast an empire; that the good of the commonwealth was paramount over the fate of individuals. – But now, by the gods, Cinna! but if your indignation has not painted the picture too darkly…”
“Too darkly!” exclaimed Cinna starting up. “To be sure, you are the son of Titus Claudius. But hear me to the end. Hardly had Charicles once more put out the lamp, when I again heard a knocking at the door. Would you believe it? another message from Caesar. His gracious majesty this time sent me the fellow who had led the dance in black as a present, and begged to know how I had liked the midnight supper. By the great name of Brutus! A tipsy reveller never spurned a beggar with more utter contempt;252 in the first burst of anger I could have flung the boy on the ground. But I recollected myself. Cornelius Cinna will never let the weapon atone for the arm that wields it…”
Nerva rose and clasped his excited and angry friend in his arms.
“Be calm,” he said in a deep voice. Then, going up to Quintus he said loftily:
“And you, noble youth, give me your right hand in pledge of silence! Not that Cornelius Cinna has said anything that need shun the light of day – but you know the danger to which freedom of speech is exposed. His indignation and bitter feeling must remain a secret…”
“A secret? and why? To-morrow I propose seeing Caesar at his great reception. I will hear from his own lips the meaning of this mysterious midnight banquet. I will insist on satisfaction for Cinna…”
“Madman, what are you thinking of?” cried Nerva horrified.
“Of my duty – rely on my discretion. Caesar owes something to me…”
“Domitian owes you something!” laughed Cinna scornfully. “Do you not know, that he hates those most who have rendered him a service? Do not I know it by my own experience?”
“It is worth trying, at any rate,” said Quintus. “But now allow me to breathe the fresh air; I am suffocating in here.” And as he spoke he unbarred the door and quitted the room.
“You must dissuade him!” said Nerva, as the door closed upon him.
“He is mad,” said Cinna. Then, turning to Aurelius, he went on: “You, my friend, go now and mingle with the guests. Amuse yourself, refresh and rest yourself. You are young, and youth claims its dues. To-morrow – you know – at the house of Afranius…”
“Yes, I know,” answered Aurelius, drawing a deep breath, “and I thank you, noble friends, for honoring me by admitting me to your society and confidence.”
He went slowly out into the atrium, where the darkness was but dimly broken by a few lamps hanging under the colonnade. A cold chill fell on his heart, for, from the peristyle, he heard a girl’s voice singing a graceful melody to the chords of a cithara. It was the same air that had charmed his heart before now, at Baiae – the Spring song of Ibycus; it was the same voice – the voice of his beautiful, adored and peerless Claudia. These few weeks had wrought an entire change in him. He had been unresistingly drawn into the vortex of two engulfing passions. On one hand was the noble girl whom he worshipped and perhaps might never win, on the other were the proud nobles – men inspired with the most fervid patriotism, who had taken him spellbound as by some sacred magic; the champions of liberty, of manly dignity, of proud Roman virtue, among a degenerate rabble of slaves. What a storm and whirl of feeling in the present, and what a struggle to be fought in the future!
He stood still to listen; a faint murmur coming up through the peaceful night, was all that could be heard of the tumult of the busy city that surrounded them, and the sweet girlish voice rose clear and strong – as pure and holy as though in all the earth there was no such thing as sorrow, as remorse and crime. The song, as it soared up fresh and strong from the innocent soul, seemed to rise to heaven in atonement for the infinite wickedness of the two million souls in the city, and for the foul and bloody deeds of its tyrants. Aurelius quivered in every nerve, and tears sprang to his eyes; but he instantly struck his breast resolutely and defiantly, and dashing his hand across his wet lashes, went through the corridor into the peristyle.