CHAPTER XIII.
TO ROME!
“Plancus, come hither!”
The lady Longa Duilia was in an easy-chair, and a slave-girl, Lucilla, was engaged in driving away the flies that, perhaps attracted by her cosmetics, came towards the lady.
Summer was over, and winter storms were beginning to bluster, and the flies were dull with cold and only maintained alive by the warmth of the chambers, heated by underground stoves, and with pipes to convey the hot air carried through every wall.
“Plancus, did you hear me speak?”
“I am here, my lady, at your service.”
“Really; you have become torpid like the flies. Has the chill made you deaf as well as sluggish?”
“My lady, I can always hear when you speak.”
“Do you mean to imply that I shout like a fishwife?”
“I mean not that. But when a harp is played, it sets every thread in every other stringed instrument a-chiming; and so is it with me.”
“The simile is wiredrawn. What I want you for is – no, I will have no stroking of your face like a cat! – is to go to Rome and see that the palace is made ready to receive us. The stoves must be well heated, and everything properly aired, The country at best of times is tedious; in winter, intolerable. Besides, I have no right to remain here buried. I must consider – Plancus, why are you scratching? I must consider my daughter. She is in a fit of the blues, and has nothing to say to amuse me. You need not blow like a sea-horse, breathe more evenly and equably; – Plancus, you are becoming unendurable. I must not consider my bereaved feelings, but her welfare, her health. The air or the situation of Gabii does not suit her. Rome is an extraordinarily healthy place in winter. I myself am never better anywhere than I am there. I was pretty well at Antioch; there were military there, and I find the soil and climate salubrious where there are military. Plancus? – as the Gods love me, you have been in the stables. I know it by infallible proofs. Stand at a distance, I insist. And, Plancus! you are not showing off conjuring tricks, that you should fold and unfold your hands. You go to Rome and take such of the family with you as are necessary. I am not going to be mewed up here any longer, because my two years of widowhood are not over. You are making faces at me, positively you are, Plancus. Do, I entreat you, look as if you were not a mountebank mouthing at a crowd.”
“I fly, mistress, as though winged at heel like Mercury.”
“Much more like Mercury’s tortoise. Send me Claudius Senecio. I must know what ails Domitia. She has the vapors.”
“I obey,” said Plancus,
“Am I much worn, Lucilla?” asked the lady, as soon as her steward had withdrawn. “The laceration of the heart tells on a sensitive nature, and precipitates wrinkles and so on.”
“Madam, you bloom as in a second spring.”
“A second spring, Lucilla!” exclaimed Longa, sitting bolt upright. “You hussy, how dare you? A second spring, indeed! Why, by the zone of Venus, I am not through my first summer yet.”
“You misconceive me, dear lady. When a virgin has been wedded, then come on her the cares of matronhood, the caprices, the ill-humors of her husband – and to some, not without cause, the vexation of his jealousy. But when the Gods have removed him, it sometimes happens that the ravages caused by the annoyances of marriage disappear, and she reverts to the freshness and loveliness of her virginity.”
“There is something in what you say; of course it is true only of highly privileged natures, in which is some divine blood. A storm ruffles the surface of the lake. When the storm is past, the lake resumes its placidity and beauty – exactly as it was before. I have noted it a thousand times. Yes, of course it is so. Here comes Senecio; he waddles just like the Hindu nurse I saw at Antioch, laboring about with two fat babies.”
The Philosopher approached.
“I will trouble you to come in front of me,” said the widow. “Have you eaten so heavy a meal as to shrink from so much unnecessary exertion? I cannot talk with my neck twisted. The windpipe is not naturally constructed like a thread in a rope. I am returning to Rome.”
“To Rome, madam! I do not advise that. The place is in commotion. There have been sad scenes of riot and pillage in the capital.”
“As the Gods love me! what care I so long as they do not invade the house in the Carinæ?”
“But there have been also massacres.”
“Well, when princes shift about, that is inevitable. They all do it. For my part, I rather like – that is, I don’t object to massacres in their proper places and confined to the proper persons.”
“Madam, you are secure where you are. Why, there was Galba, – he had not been in Rome seven months before he was killed, and he did not enter the city save over the bodies of seven thousand men, butchered on the Flaminian Way.”
“Well! I am not a man. Moreover, I thank the Gods, my house is not on the Flaminian Way, nor is it in the Velabrum, nor the Suburra, nor in the Forum Boarium either. We happen to live in the Carinæ, and I conceive that there have been no massacres and all that sort of thing there.”
“No, my dear lady, but when the entire city is disturbed – ”
“And here, in Gabii, down to the lizards – dead asleep. Give me massacres rather than stagnation. I shall get back to Rome before the Ides of December, on account of my daughter’s health. By the way, will you believe it? She gave away the sword of my dear Corbulo to Lucius Lamia. Just conceive! – how effective that sword would be in my house – in the tablinum, the atrium, anywhere – and how I could point to it, and my feelings! – I can imagine nothing more striking. I have told Lamia to restore it. I would not lose it for a great deal. Well now, come. Any news from the capital?”
“Madam, you are aware that Galba fell, and that Otho threw himself on his sword after a reign of ninety days; and now the new Cæsar Vitellius is menaced. I hear that the East has risen, and that Vespasian has been proclaimed in Syria. The legions in Illyria have also declared for him and are marching into Italy. Egypt has pronounced against Vitellius, and it is but seven months since Otho died by his own hand.”
“Vespasian, did you say?” exclaimed the lady. “My good Senecio, he is a sort of cousin, a country cousin, just one of those cousins that can be cultivated into kinship, or dropped out of relationship as circumstances decide. His father was a pottering sort of a man, an auctioneer, and commissioner of drains and dirt and all that sort of thing. A worthy fellow, I dare say; I believe he had a statue erected to him somewhere because he did the scavengering so well. He married above his position, one Vespasia Polla; I have seen and heard of her, a round-faced woman like a pudding; he took her for her blood, but she was only a knight’s daughter; and those city knights, as the Gods love me! what a money-grubbing low set they are! His son, Flavius Vespasianus is proclaimed! It is really funny. It is, O Morals! I must laugh. Now, if my good man had but listened to me. But there, I shall become mad. – I don’t know how long it is since you have been pecking, or whether you eat all day long? But you have crumbs sticking in your beard. Another time be good enough to comb your beard before approaching me. Tell me, what has given Domitia the dumps?”
“I believe, madam, she has been frightened by that unscrupulous impostor, Elymas, or Ascleparion, or whatever he is called. I do not know particulars, but believe that he pretended to show her the future.”
“The future! Delicious! And what did she see?”
“That I cannot say, but she has looked wan ever since, neither smiles nor speaks, but sits, when the sun shines, on the balustrade above the water, looking into it, as in a dream. I hear that she holds converse with none, save her maid, Euphrosyne.”
“I wonder what she has seen! Anything concerning me?”
“Madam, that braggart and intriguer is made up of lies. He has frightened her with pretended predictions. If I might advise, I would counsel his expulsion from the house.”
“I should like to hear what are the chances for Flavius Vespasian. I think I shall inquire myself. I knew Vespasian once, of course he is vastly my senior. If he be successful, he may get a proconsulship for our Lamia. He! Flavius Vespasian a Cæsar! There is push for you! As the Gods love me, there is nothing like push. I must go to Rome. Positively two years retirement for a widow is unreasonable. In the good old days of the Republic one was thought enough. I would not have the Republic back for anything else, though of course we all talk about Liberty and Cato, and all that sort of thing – it is talk – nothing else. I must go to Rome. Flavius Sabinus is præfect of the city, and he is the elder brother of Vespasian. I might show him some little inconspicuous civilities – give a little cosy, quiet supper. By the way – yes, he is married to an old hunks, I remember. Oh! if his brother gets to the top, he can divorce her. Yes, positively I shall not be able to breathe till I get back to Rome. By the way, draw me up on a couple of tablets some moral philosophizing suitable to widowhood, pepper it well with lines from lyric poets. I will learn it all by heart in my litter, and serve out as occasion offers. I positively must be home before the Ides; why – ” with a start of pleasure – “The Ides of December! that is the dedication feast of the temple of Tellus in the Carinæ. There you have it! Devotion to the gods – an excuse for a little supper – a wee little supper – but so good and so nicely turned out.”
CHAPTER XIV.
A LITTLE SUPPER
Longa Duilia and her entire household had returned to the capital, and were installed in the family mansion in the Carinæ.
Happily, as Corbulo had considered it, this house had escaped in the conflagration of Rome under Nero. This, however, was a matter of some regret to Duilia, who would have preferred to have had it burnt, so that it might have been rebuilt in greater splendor and in newer style.
Nevertheless, although externally dingy, it was a commodious mansion within, and was well furnished, especially with carpets and curtains of Oriental texture, that had been wrought at, or purchased at the bazaars of Antioch and Damascus.
The centre of the house was occupied by the atrium, or hall, open to the sky above the water tank in the midst. On each side at the further end from the entrance extended the “wings” that contained the family portraits enclosed in gilded boxes or shrines, the doors of which were thrown open on festal occasions. In the centre, between the wings was the tablinum, the reception-room of the house, and on the right side of the entrance was the family money-chest, girded with iron.
On the ledge of the water tank before the reception room, smoked a little altar before an image of Larpater, the ancestor and founder of the family, regarded as the tutelary deity of the house.
The penates, the subsidiary household gods, that had formerly been retained in the hall, near the altar – curious, smoked, and badly-shaped dolls, some in rags, some in wood, others in terra cotta – were sometimes consigned to a family chapel, but in the house of the widow of Corbulo, as in many another, they had been relegated to a shelf in the kitchen near the hearth, and a lamp was maintained perpetually burning before them.
In primitive times, when life was simple, the hall had been the common room of the house, in which the wife cooked the meals at the hearth, and where also on seats, father, wife, children and domestics partook together of the common meal. But now all this was altered.
In winter the hall was too cold to be sat in. It was inconvenient to have the cooking done before all eyes. Consequently a separate kitchen and separate dining-rooms were constructed, and the smoking altar and the image by it alone remained in the hall as a reminiscence of the family hearth that once stood there.
It is more difficult to understand the meals and meal times of the old Romans, than the arrangement of their houses.
They rose vastly early in the morning, and took a snack of breakfast of the simplest description, which lasted them till lunch at 10 a. m. But such as were occupied abroad rarely returned home for this meal. At noon they bathed, and then came the great feed of the day, the cœna, which we translate “supper,” but which was begun at half-past one in winter and an hour later in summer.
This lasted the entire afternoon, and even on great occasions into the night. Some revellers did not break up till midnight, or even prolonged the orgy to dawn.
It was not till the Goths and Vandals overflowed the classic world, that the supper was postponed until the evening.
The Roman citizen’s day was from dawn till noon. Then he had his snooze and his bath, and the remainder of the day was devoted to the mighty meal and to reading, conversation, and amusement.
“I am so pleased to see you,” said Longa Duilia, stepping forward to receive the Præfect of Rome, to her little supper.
He was a gray-headed, plain, blunt man, with very ordinary features; he was attended by two lictors, and by his son, Sabinus.
“I thank you, madam, for the courteous invitation.”
“I could kill myself with vexation not to have made your acquaintance earlier. You see, for some years I have been at Antioch, with my dearest husband, whose sword – that sword which drank the blood of Germans, Parthians and Armenians – excuse these tears – you see it – suspended yonder. But, as I was saying, we have been from Rome so long, and since my return I have lived in such seclusion, that we have not met – and yet, considering our relationship – ”
“My dear lady, I was unaware that I was entitled to such an honor.”
“Oh! yes, of course, cousins.”
“Cousins!”
“Through Vespasia Polla, your mother. What a sweet creature she was! So distinguished in her manner. She had such an intelligent face, and, as I remember her, the remains of great beauty. Of course I was then quite a mite of a child.”
“This is indeed flattering.”
“You men have other things to consider beside pedigree. Cousins we certainly are. And how is that sweet lady, your wife? By all accounts as frail as the last autumn leaf on an acacia.”
“I am glad to say that, on the contrary, she enjoys rude health.”
“You do not say so! What fibs are told! Your son Clemens is not here? I – I have heard, does not go into society, a little peculiar in his views. We are not all made alike. But this, your son Sabinus, is formed like an Apollo. And your daughter Plautilla – so sorry! infected in the same way. Will not go to dinners or shows – ah! well it is her loss. It is a pleasure to reunite family ties. Alas! you know of my irreparable loss. I do not know whether you saw the sword of my darling. He fell on it. Bathed it with his blood. Every night I bedew the sacred blade with my tears. Excuse me – my emotion overcomes me. I would have buried myself at Gabii, clasping the sword to my wounded bosom for the remainder of my shattered life, had it not been for the health of my child. A mother’s thoughts are with her offspring. Well, now to table. A widow’s fare, only a small supper in a house of mourning – though more than a twelvemonth since the funeral – indeed, two years since my dear one died – on that sword. Oh! I turn away my eyes! The sight of that blade. But, come – that is my daughter. Salute her. A cousin. Give me your hand, Flavius. The table calls us.”
The house of a wealthy Roman at this period had not only a summer dining-room, open to the air, but one also for winter, well heated by stoves. Three tables were placed, so as to accommodate nine persons, three at each, leaving the ends of two and an open square in the middle.
Into this hollow the servants ran the “repository,” a sort of what-not, on wheels, consisting of a tier of shelves, all laden with dishes; and the guests put forth their hands and selected such meats as they fancied.
Knives they had, but no forks. In place of these latter they were furnished with spoons, having the extremity of the handle turned down as claw or hoof, or sharpened to a point, so as to serve to hold the meat whilst it was being cut. When so employed, the bowl of the spoon was held in the hollow of the hand; but when used as a spoon, then the end was reversed.
A sideboard was piled up with silver and gold plate. In addition in a corner stood a round table with three feet; on which were laid napkins neatly tied up with blue and red bands. These napkins contained trinkets, rings, brooches, comfits, mottoes, and were to be given to the guests along with the dessert. Our presentation of Christmas crackers is a reminiscence of the old Roman custom of making presents to the guests at the close of a banquet.
The males lay at table on couches, with their legs extended behind them, their left elbows reposed on pillows. It was against ancient Roman custom for ladies to recline, but recently some empresses had broken through the rule, and when they set the example of lounging, others followed. Duilia, however, was a stickler in some things, and she somewhat affected archaic usages, as a mark of distinction, as a token of the antiquity of the family, whose customs had acquired an almost sacred sanction. Ladies sat on stools.
The couches and seats were sumptuous, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, tortoise-shell and silver, and were covered with Oriental carpets.
Every guest was attended by a slave, bearing an ewer and napkin, so that he might cleanse his fingers directly they became greasy – a necessity of constant recurrence, on account of the absence of proper forks.
A baldachin of embroidered silk was stretched above the table, and the heads of the banqueters. This was done for the purpose of cutting off the draught, as immediately above, in the ceiling, was the lacunar, an opening through which the steam and savor of dinner might escape, and through which, when the canopy was not spread, rose-leaves, violets, a spray of scent, even garlands were scattered over the revellers.
A Roman dinner began, like one in Russia at the present day, with a gustus, a snack of something calculated to stimulate the appetite or to help digestion.
Then came in soft-boiled eggs, the invariable first dish, just as invariably, the meal closed with apples.
With the eggs were served salads and sauer-kraut, cabbage shredded in vinegar, Brussels sprouts boiled with saltpetre to enhance their green, turnips and carrots in mustard and vinegar. Melons were eaten with pepper, salt, and vinegar; artichokes were consumed raw, with oil; mallows and sorrel, olives, mushrooms and truffles were favorite vegetables, and were eaten along with large snails, oysters, sardines, and chopped lizards.
All this was preparatory.
Now entered the repository, groaning under meats and fish. At the same moment a slave produced and handed round a menu card. But before eating, a benediction was pronounced, the household gods were invoked and promised a share of the good things from the table.
It is unnecessary to catalogue the solids and entrées sent up at such a supper. Pork was a favorite dish, and there were fifty ways in which a pig could be served up. Octopus was much relished, as it is to this day in Italy. Wild fowl was stuffed with garlic, mutton with asafœtida, and some meats were not considered in condition till decomposition had begun.
The strong savor produced by those dishes was dissipated by servants holding large fans, and counteracted by the diffusion of aromatic smoke, and the sprinkling of guests and table with essences.
A supper consisted of several courses, but a considerable interval elapsed between each, which interval was filled in with conversation, or enlivened with the antics of buffoons, or with music, or the recitation of poetry.
Nothing in the smallest degree unseemly was allowed in the house of Longa Duilia, at such entertainments.
We read a good deal, in the ancient authors, of the license allowed at such times, but this was not general, certainly was not suffered except in very “fast” houses, and such were attended by none who respected themselves.
The widow knew how to make herself agreeable. Flavius Sabinus, the præfect, was a great talker, and there was a little rivalry between the two as to which should lead the conversation. Domitia hardly spoke, but the guests generally entertained themselves heartily.
Lamia was there, and near his betrothed, but found it difficult to carry on conversation with her. Since the questioning of Ishtar in the Temple at Gabii, she had been haunted by the visions presented to her inner sight, and she was unable to shake off the oppression of spirits and distress of mind, they had caused.
When supper was ended, previous to the dessert, all rose, a grace was said, and again the household gods were invoked.
All were thus standing, in solemn hush, whilst a portion for the deities was being taken away, when the curtain before the door was roughly drawn aside, and a young man ran in – then halted, bewildered by the lights and the company, and hesitated before advancing further.
A faint cry escaped the breast of Domitia; and she staggered back, and caught Lamia convulsively by the wrist.
Then Flavius Sabinus said apologetically to his hostess:
“This youth is my nephew, Titus Flavius Domitianus, the younger son of my brother Vespasian. Pardon his lack of breeding, lady – I bade him find me here, if matters of importance demanded my attention. Excuse me, I pray, if I retire with him and hear what news of weight he bears.”
Duilia bowed, and the præfect, leaving his place, went to meet his nephew.
Lamia felt that Domitia was trembling. He looked in her face and it alarmed him. With wide eyes she was staring at the intruder; her lips were slightly parted, every trace of color had deserted them; and between them gleamed her teeth.
Not till the curtain had fallen, and hidden the form of the young man, as he left with his uncle, did she breathe freer.
Then she heaved a long sigh, and said in a faint voice:
“It is he – the eighth crowned head – the fifth come again – the new Nero. O Lamia! Terrible is Fate!”