Domitia

CHAPTER V.
ATRIUM VESTÆ

When the Romans were a pastoral people at Alba, then it was the duty of the young girls to attend to the common hearth and keep the fire ever burning. To obtain fresh fire was not always possible, and at the best of times not easy.

Fire was esteemed sacred, being so mysterious, and so indispensable, and reverence was made to the domestic hearth (hestia) as the altar of the Fire goddess.

When the Roman settlement was made on the banks of the Tiber, one hut of a circular form was constituted the central hearth, and provision was made that thence every household should obtain its fire. This hut became the Temple of Hestia or Vesta, and certain girls were set apart to watch the fire that it should never become extinguished.

This was the origin of the institution of the Vestal Virgins, an institution which lasted from the founding of Rome in B. C. 753, to the disestablishment of Paganism, and the expulsion of the last Vestal, in A. D. 394, nearly eleven hundred and fifty years.

No girl under six or above ten years of age was admissible as priestess of the sacred fire, and but six damsels were allowed, – their term of service was thirty years, after which the Vestal was free to return home and to marry. The eldest of the Vestals was termed Maxima, and she acted as superior or abbess over the community.

They enjoyed great possessions and privileges and were shown the most extraordinary respect. Seats of honor were accorded to the Vestals in the theatres, the amphitheatre and the circus.

The Vestals had other duties to perform beside that of maintaining the perpetual fire. They preserved the palladia of Rome, those mysterious articles on which the prosperity, nay, the very existence of the city was thought to depend. What these were was never known. The last Vestal carried them away and concealed them. With her death the secret was lost. Moreover, they took charge of the wills of great men, emperors and nobles, and in times of civil war they mediated between the conflicting parties.

Cornelia gently detached the hands of Domitia from the altar of Vesta, and led her within the college of the Vestals, the only door to which opened on the platform on which stood the Temple.

On entering, she found herself in an oblong court surrounded on all four sides by a cloister, the prototype of those to be in later days erected in the several convents and abbeys, and collegiate buildings of Christendom. In the open space in the midst was the circular treasury of the palladia, at one end was the well whence the virgins drew their water. The cloister was composed of marble columns, and sustained an upper gallery, also open to the court but roofed over and the roof supported on columns of red marble.

Between the columns below and above stood statues of the Superiors, who had merited commemoration. There was no garden, the place for walking was the cloister.

Cornelia conducted Domitia into the reception-chamber, and kissing her said: —

“Under the protection of the Goddess you are safe.”

“I trust I in no way endanger your safety.”

“Mine!” Cornelia laughed. “There is none above me save the supreme pontiff, and so long as I do no wrong, no one can molest me. But tell me – what wilt thou do?”

“In the first place send out and bid my servants return home; and if they ask when to come for me, answer, when I send for them.”

“That is easily done,” said the Abbess. She clapped her hands and a slave girl answered and received this commission.

“Now,” said she, “now we come to the real difficulty. Here you are, but here you cannot tarry for long. For six days we may accord sanctuary, but for no more. After that we must deliver over the person who has taken refuge with us if required.”

“I have for some time considered what might be done. I have been so miserable, so degraded, so impatient, that I have racked my brain how to escape, and I see but one course. When we were at Cenchræa, my mother and I, we were in the house of a Greek client of our family, who was very kind to us, and his wife loved me well. If I could escape thither in disguise, then I think he would be able to secrete me, there are none so astute as are the Greeks, and who so love to outwit their masters.”

“But how is this possible?”

“That I know not – only let me get away from Rome, then trust my craft to enable me to evade pursuit. Let it be given out that I am here in fulfilment of a vow, then no suspicion will be roused, and I can take my measures.”

“It is not possible,” said Cornelia in some alarm. “Have you considered what your mother said? the Augustus is all-seeing and all-powerful, and has his hand everywhere.”

“Get me out of Italy, and I shall be safe. I will not return to the Palatine. If my life was hateful to me before, what will it be made now? Then he had some fear of his father and of his brother, now he has none to fear.”

The Vestal said, “Let me have time to think this over – and yet, it doth not seem to me feasible.”

“Get me but a beggar’s suit, and walnut juice, that I may stain my face and hands and arms. I will wash all this gold-dust from my hair – and I warrant you none will know me, with a staff and a wallet, I will go forth, right willingly. I will not return to him.”

“That is impossible. You – with your beauty – your nobility – ”

“My nobility is of no account with me now.”

“You think so, and so it may be whilst untouched, but I am certain the least ruffle would make your pride flash out.”

Domitia remembered her resentment at the physician’s apparent familiarity.

“Well – my beauty will be disguised.”

“That nothing can conceal.”

“Oh! do not speak thus, or I shall mistrust you, as I mistrust every one else – except my slave Euphrosyne, and Eboracus, and Glyceria the actor’s wife. These seem to me the only true persons in the world. I would cast myself on them, but two are slaves and the other is paralyzed. Consider now, Cornelia, do you not understand how that one may reach a condition of mind or soul, call it which you will, when we become desperate. One must make an effort to break away into a new and free and better life, or succumb and become bad, and dead to all that is noble and true and good, hard of heart, callous to right and wrong. I am at that point. I know, if I were to return to him, and to be Empress of the Roman world, that I should have but one thing to live for – the pride of my place and the blazoning of my position; and to all that which lies deep within me, bleeding, crying out, hungering, and with dry lips – dead.”

“My dear lady, you were never made for what you are forced to become.”

“Then, why do the Gods thrust me on to a throne that I hate, tie me to a man that I loathe, surround me with a splendor that I despise. Tell me why? O Vesta! immaculate Goddess! how I would that I had been as one of thy consecrated virgins, to spend my days in this sweet house, and pure, peaceful cloister! Do you see? I must away. I am lost to all good – if I remain. I must away! it is my soul that speaks, that spreads its hands to thee, Cornelia! save me!”

She threw herself on her knees and extended her arms to the Vestal Abbess, caught her dress and kissed it.

Cornelia was deeply moved,

“I beseech you, rise,” she said, lifting the kneeling suppliant, clasping her in her arms, and caressing her as a child.

“Hearken to me, Domitia, I can think but of one person that can assist us; that is my cousin Celer. He is a good man, and whatever I desire, he will strive to execute as a sacred duty. Yet the risk is great.”

“I pray you! – I pray you get him to assist me to escape.”

“He must furnish you with attendants. It will not be secure for you to be accompanied by any of your own servants. They might be traced. Celer has got a villa. Stay, I will go forth at once and see him. He can give counsel. Do nothing till my return.”

The Vestal Great-Mother left, and Domitia was glad to be alone.

The habitation of the Vestals was wonderfully peaceful, in the midst of busy, seething Rome, and in the centre of its greatest movement. As already said, it had no windows, and but one door that opened on the outer world. It drew all its air, all its light, from the patch of sky over the central court. Figures of Vestals glided about like spirits, and the white statues stood ghostlike on their pedestals.

But to be without flowers, without a peristyle commanding a landscape of garden and lake and trees and mountains! That was terrible. It would have been an unendurable life, but that the Vestal college was possessed of country seats, to which some of the elder of the sisterhood were allowed occasionally to go and take with them some one or two of the novices.

Although there were no flowers in the quadrangle, there was abundance of birds. In and out among the variegated marbles, perching on balustrades, fluttering among the statues, were numerous pigeons, as marbled in tint as the sculptured stonework, and looking like animated pieces of the same; and a tame flamingo in gorgeous plumage basked himself, then strutted, and on seeing a Vestal approach hopped towards her. When, moreover, the same maiden drew water from the well, the pigeons came down like a fall of snow about her, clustering round the bucket to obtain a dip and a drink.

Several hours passed. At length the Abbess returned. She at once sought Domitia, who rose on her entry. Cornelia took both her hands within her own and said: —

“We women are fools, that is what Celer said, when I told him your plan. As he at once pointed out, it is impossible for you to lie hid anywhere in Italy – and impossible to escape from it, unknown to the Augustus. Any one endeavoring to assist you to escape would lose his life, most assuredly. ‘I cannot sell smoke to a clown,’ said he bluntly – he is a plain man – ‘I will not put out a finger to assist in such an attempt, which would bring ruin on us all. But,’ he said, ‘this may be done; let the Lady Domitia retire to one of her own villas, in the country, and commit the matter to the Vestals. Your entreaty is powerful, and if attended by two of the sisters – or perhaps better alone, for this is not a matter to be made public – go to the prince, and plead in the lady’s name, that thou feelest unequal to the weight of duties that will now fall on the Augusta, and that thy health is feeble and thou needest repose and country air – then he may yield his consent, at least to a temporary retreat.’ But my kinsman Celer advised nothing beyond this. In very truth, nothing else can be done. Most men’s noses are crooked, – he said – and he is a blunt man – and those who have straight ones do not like to follow them. But in your case, Lady Domitia, there is practically no other way.”

“Then I will to Gabii,” said Domitia with a sigh. “If he will force me back – there is the lake.”

Then, said Cornelia, “Dost thou know that blind-man Messalinus?”

“Full well – he hangs on to the Cæsar Domitian, like a leech.”

“Since thou didst enter the house of us Vestals, he hath been up and down the Via Nova and the Sacred Way, never letting this place out of his eye – blind though he be. Some say he scents as doth a dog, and that is why he works his head about from side to side snuffing the wind. When I went forth he detached two of his slaves to follow – and they went as far as myself and stood watching outside the door of the knight Celer, and when I came forth they were still there, and when I returned to the Atrium of Vesta, I found Messalinus peering with his sightless eyes round the corner. But, I trow, he sees through his servants’ eyes.”

“He is a bird of ill omen,” said Domitia, “a vulture scenting his prey.”

CHAPTER VI.
FOR THE PEOPLE

Domitia was at Gabii. Cornelia, the Vestal Great Mother had sent her thither in her own litter, and attended by her own servants, but with the assistance of the knight Celer, who had gone before to Gabii to make preparations.

Gabii had none of the natural beauties of Albanum, but Domitia cared little for that. It was a seat that had belonged to her father and here his ashes reposed. The villa was by no means splendid; but then – nor had been that of Albanum when she was first carried thither. Domitian had bought it immediately after the proclamation of his father, and it had then been a modest, but very charming country residence. Since then, he had lavished vast sums upon it, and had converted it into a palace, without having really improved it thereby. To Albanum he had become greatly attached; to it he retired in his moody fits, when resentful of his treatment by his father, envious of his brother, and suspicious of his first cousin Sabinus. There he had vented his spleen in harassing his masons, bullying his slaves, and in sticking pins through flies.

But if Gabii was less beautiful and less sumptuous, it had the immeasurable advantage of not being occupied by Domitian. There, for a while, Domitia was free from his hateful society, his endearments and his insults, alike odious to her.

And she enjoyed the rest; she found real soothing to her sore heart in wandering about the garden, and by the lake, and visiting familiar nooks.

Only into the temple of Isis she did not penetrate, the recollection of the vision there seen was too painful to be revived.

On the third day after she had been in the Gabian villa, Celer came out from Rome. He was a plain middle-aged man with a bald head, and a short brusque manner, but such a man as Domitia felt she could trust.

He informed her that Cornelia had been before the Augustus and had entreated him to allow his wife to absent herself from the palace, and from his company. She had made the plea that Domitia Longina was out of health, overstrained by the hurry of exciting events, and that she needed complete rest.

“But I demand more than that,” said she.

“Madam, more than that, my cousin, the Great Mother, dared not ask. The prince was in a rough mood, he was highly incensed at your having withdrawn without his leave, and he saw behind Cornelia’s words the real signification. He behaved to her with great ill-humor, and would give no answer one way or the other – and that means that here you are to remain, till it is his pleasure to recall you.”

“And may that never be,” sighed Domitia.

“The Augustus is moreover much engaged at present.”

“What has he been doing? But stay – tell me now – is there news concerning Sabinus?”

“Ah lady! he has been.”

“I knew it would be so. On what charge?”

“The Augustus was incensed against him, because under the god Vespasian he had put his servant in the white livery, when Flavius Sabinus was elected to serve as consul for the ensuing year. Unhappily, the herald in announcing his election gave him the title of Emperor in place of consul, through a mere slip of the tongue. But it was made an occasion of delation. Messalinus snapped at the opportunity, and at once the noble Sabinus was found guilty of High Treason, and sentenced to death.”

“And what has become of Julia, daughter of the god Titus, the wife of Sabinus?”

“She has been brought by the Augustus to the Palatine.”

Next day, the slave Euphrosyne arrived. She had been sent for by Domitia, and was allowed to go to her mistress. She also brought news.

The town was in agitation. It was rumored that the Emperor was about to divorce Domitia, and to marry his niece.

“It would be welcome to me were this to take place,” said Domitia. “Come, now, Euphrosyne, bring me spindle and distaff, I will be as a spinster of old.”

So days passed, occasionally tidings came from Rome, but these were uncertain rumors. Domitia was enjoying absolute peace and freedom from annoyance in the country. And she had in Euphrosyne one with whom she talked with pleasure, for the girl had much to say that showed novelty, springing out of a mind very different in texture from that usual among slaves.

“It is a delight to me to be still. Child! – I can well think it, after a toilsome and discouraging life, it is pleasant to fold the hands, lay the head on the sod, and go to sleep, without a wish to further keep awake.”

“Yes, when there is a prospect of waking again.”

“But even without that, is life so pleasant that one would incline to renew it? Not I for one.”

Domitia looked up at the fresco of the Quest of Pleasure, and said – “Once I wondered at that picture yonder, and that all pleasure attained should resolve itself into a sense of disappointment. It is quite true that we pursue the butterfly, after we have ceased to value it, but that is because we must pursue something, not that we value that which is attained or to be attained.”

“Ah, lady, we must pursue something. That is in our nature – it is a necessity.”

“It is so; and what else is there to follow after except pleasure?”

“There is knowledge.”

“Knowledge! the froth-whipping of philosophers, the smoke clouds raised by the magicians, the dreams and fancies of astronomers – pshaw! I have no stomach for such knowledge. No! I want nothing but to be left alone, to dream away my remainder of life.”

“No, lady, that would not content you. You must seek. We are made to be seekers, as the bird is made to fly, and the fish to swim.”

“If we do not seek one thing, we seek another, and in every one, find – what the pinched butterfly is – dust.”

“No, mistress, not if we seek the truth. The knowledge of the truth, the Summum Bonum.”

“But where, how are we to seek it?”

“In God,” answered the slave.

“The Gods! of them we know only idle tales, and in place of the tales, when taken away, there remains but guesswork. There again – the pinch of dust.”

“Lady, if we are created to seek, as the fish to swim, there must be an element in which to pursue our quest, an end to attain. That is inevitable, unless we be made by a freakish malevolent power that plants in us desire that can feed only on dust, ever, ever dust. No, that cannot be, the soul runs because it sees its goal – ”

“And that? – ”

A bustle, and in a moment, in sailed Longa Duilia, very much painted, very yellow in hair, and with saffron eyelashes and brows.

“Little fool!” said the mother. “Come, let me embrace thee, yet gently lest you crumple me, and be cautious of thy kisses, lest thou take off the bloom of my cheek. Thou art ever boisterous in thy demonstrations. There, give me a seat, I must put up my feet. As the Gods love me! what a hole this Gabii is! How dingy, how dirty, how shabby it all looks! As the Gods – but how art thou? some say ill, some say sulky, some say turned adrift. As the Gods love me! that last is a lie, and I can swear it. The Augustus distills with love, like a dripping honeycomb. You must positively come back with me. I have come – not alone. Messalinus is with me – a charming man – but blind, blind as a beetle.”

“What, that fourfolder!”¹⁰

“Now, now, no slang! I detest it, it is vulgar. Besides, they all do it, and what all do can’t be wrong. One must live, and the world is so contrived that one lives upon another; consequently, it must be right.”

“Well have the Egyptians represented the God who made men as a beetle – blind, and this world as a pellet of dung rolled about blindly by him.”

“My dear, I am not a philosopher and never wish to be one. Come, we have brought the Imperial retinue for taking you back.”

“Whither? To your house in the Carinæ?”

“Oh, my Domitia! How ridiculous! Of course you go to the Palatine, to your proper place. My dear, you will be proclaimed Augusta, and receive worship as a divinity. The Senate are only pausing to adjudge you a goddess, to know whether the Emperor intends to repudiate you or no. It is absolutely necessary that you come back with me.”

“My godhead is determined by the question whether I be divorced or not!” exclaimed Domitia contemptuously. “I cannot go with you, mother.”

“Then,” said Duilia, looking carefully about, “that jade, big-boned and ugly as a mule – you know to whom I refer, will get the upper hand, and your nose will be broken.”

“Mother, I ask but to be left alone.”

“I will not suffer it. By my maternal authority – ”

“Alas, mother! I have passed out of that – I did so at my marriage.”

“Well then, in your own interest.”

“If I consider that I remain here.”

“Avaunt nonsense! Your position, your opportunities! Just think! There is cousin Cnæus must be given a help up. He is a fool – but that don’t matter, you must get him a proconsulship. Then there is Fulvia, you must exert yourself to find her a wealthy husband. As the Gods love me! you can push up all your father’s family, and mine to boot. Come, get the girls to dress you becomingly and make haste.”

“I cannot go.”

“You must. The Augustus wills it.”

“And if I refuse?”

“You cannot refuse.”

“I do so now.”

“My dear, by the Good Event! you shall come. You can no more refuse him than you can Destiny.”

“Let him send his lictors and lead me to death.”

“Lead you to – how can you talk such rubbish? You must come. This is how the matter stands. There has been a good deal of disturbance in Rome. As the Gods love me! I do not know why it is, but the people like thee vastly, and the rumor has got about that thou wast about to be repudiated, and that raw-boned filly taken in your place. First there were murmurings, then pasquinades affixed to the statues of the august Domitian. Then bands of rioters passed under his windows howling out mocking songs and blasphemies against his majesty, and next they clustered in knots, and that Insula of Castor and Pollux is a nest of insubordination. In fact, return you must to quiet men’s minds. You know what a disturbance in Rome is, we have gone through several. By Jupiter! I shall never forget the rocking I went through that night of the Lectisternium. These sort of things are only unobjectionable when seen from a distance. But they leave a taste of blood behind them. When the riot is over, then come proscription; the delators have a fine time of it, and the rich and noble are made to suffer.”

“But, mother, let Julia do what she will, I care not.”

“Rome does. The Roman rabble will not have it so. You have been familiar with the base and vile multitude. Can’t think how you could do it! However, it has succeeded this time and turned out a good move, for the people are clamorous for your return. The Augustus is but recently proclaimed and allegiance is still fresh – and I believe his cousin Ursus has been at him to have you back so as to humor the public.”

“Yet, if I refuse to gratify him.”

“Then, my dear, of course, it will be a pity, and all that sort of thing; but they all do it, and it must be right. The Augustus would prefer not to use severity – but if severe he must be, he will put down this disturbance with a hand of iron. He bears no actor’s sword, the blade of which is innocuous. I will call in Messalinus. He will tell you more.”

She clapped her hands; in obedience to her order a slave went outside the villa, and presently returned with the blind man.

He entered, working his sharp nose about, and then made a cringing bow towards the wall – not knowing where stood Domitia.

“Catullus Messalinus,” said Duilia, “have the goodness to inform my daughter of the intentions of the Augustus relative to the rabble in the Insula of Castor and Pollux, whence all the agitation proceeds.”

“Madam,” said the blind informer, “my god-like prince has already given command to clear the streets by means of the prætorian swords. As to that herd in the block of Castor and Pollux, they are reserved for condign punishment, unless my dear lady return at once. They will all – men, women and children, be driven into the circus. There are a pair of British war chariots, with scythes affixed to the axles, and the green drivers will be commanded to hustle round the ring at full speed among this rebellious rabble, to trample them down, and mow them as barley with the scythes – till not one remains alive as a seed of disaffection. What I say is – if a thing has to be done, do it thoroughly. It is true kindness in the end. Of course some must suffer, and one may praise the Gods that in this case it is only the common people.”

“The common people,” gasped Domitia.

Her eyes were glazed with horror. She saw the Insula, its crowds of busy, kindly, happy people, so good to one another, so affectionate to Glyceria, so grateful to her for visiting among them. And it was she, she by winning their love who was bringing this punishment upon them. In their blind, foolish way, they had misconceived her flight, and in their blind and stupid way, had resented an imaginary wrong offered to her, and because of their generous championship – they must suffer.

With bursting heart, and with a scalding rush of tears over her cheeks, Domitia extended her hand to her mother: —

“I go back,” she said, “My people! my poor people, my dear people! It must be so. – For their sake —pro populo.”