“Really, Baucis, you are very clumsy again today!” cried Lucilia,
half-vexed and half-saucily. “Do you want to pull that fine, luxuriant
hair, that the greatest poet might rave about, all out by the roots. I
have shown you a hundred times how the arrow is to be put through, and
you always towzle my hair as old Orbilius[207] does the schoolboys!”
“Ingratitude for thanks, all the world over!” muttered the old slave,
casting a last glance at Lucilia’s curls, her successful handiwork. “I
suppose you would like to stick a pin into me.[208] Really, the young
people of the present day are like babies or dolls. And if the gold
pin slips and the plaits come down, then it is the old woman who is to
blame and there is no end of the fuss. Ah! you naughty girl,[209] how
do you expect to get on when you are married, you impatient little
thing! Many a time will you have to sigh, when your husband is out
of temper! Many a time will you say to yourself: ‘Ah! if only I had
learned a little patience when I was younger!’”
“You are greatly mistaken,” said Lucilia in a declamatory tone. “The
days are over, when the husband was master over everything in the
house. What woman now-a-days will submit to a wedding with offerings
of corn?[210] We have grown wiser, and know what such offerings are
meant to symbolize--we are to surrender our liberty to the very last
grain! So I should think! If ever I marry.... But what are you about?
Will you ever have done fidgetting with that tiresome necklace? Do
look, Claudia, how she is tormenting me!”
Claudia was sitting in holiday attire in front of a handsome
citrus-wood[211] table, holding in her hands the ivory roller of an
elegantly-written book. When Lucilia spoke to her she absently raised
her soft, fawn-like eyes, laid the roll aside and stood up.
“You look like Melpomene,” cried Lucilia enthusiastically, while Baucis
draped her _stola_.[212] “If I were Aurelius, I should have my head
turned by the sight of you. How well the folds of your dress fall, and
how admirably the border lies on the ground, oh! and your hair! Do you
know I am quite in love myself with that hair; it goes so beautifully
with the soft brown of your eyes. That dark fair hair, with a kind of
dim lustre, is too lovely; my stupid, every-day brown looks no better
by the side of it than a cabbage next a rose. Of course, too, Baucis
takes three times as much pains with you as with me. Tell me yourself,
is not this arrow all askew again?”
So speaking she took a polished metal mirror[213] from the table, and
studied her coiffure first from the right and then from the left, while
one of the young slave-girls, who stood round Baucis, came to her
assistance with a second mirror.
“It is quite horrid!” she said crossly. “In short every single thing is
wanting in me to-day, that could please the fancy of any human being.
Never was my fatal snub-nose so short and broad, never was my mouth so
wide and vulgar. And listen, Claudia, in spite of all its beauty, I
can do without going to Baiae for the future. I gained twenty pounds
in weight there, and brought home three dozen freckles. It is a lucky
thing, that I have a philosophic soul! If I were in love now with some
son of the gods, by Socrates’ cup of hemlock I should be desperate with
rage!”
“You are only fishing for praise,” said Claudia, stroking her sister’s
cheek. “But you know I am but ill-skilled in the art of paying
compliments.”
“Silly girl!” said Lucilia. “As if praise could mend an evil. Do you
suppose I want to do as the young law students do, who hire flatterers
to praise them?[214] Nay, no bribery is possible, when we stand before
the Centumvirate[215] who judge of beauty.--And, my good Baucis, what
are you staring at now, like a country cousin at a circus. Make haste
and get dressed, you old sinner, or Cinna’s cook will have burnt the
pasty.”
“I shall be ready in an instant,” replied Baucis. “At my time of life
dressing need not take long. Who looks at the hawthorn, I wonder, when
roses are in bloom?” and she hurried away.
Lucilia and Claudia went out into the colonnade where, arm in arm, they
slowly paced the gleaming marble pavement. As they turned the farther
corner of the quadrangle, they saw their mother coming towards them at
a leisurely pace.
“Quintus is ready and waiting,” she said pleasantly.
“And you, dear mother?” asked Lucilia. “Do you really mean to stay at
home?”
“It is such a pity,” added Claudia. “We are accustomed, alas! to my
father’s never accompanying us to see Cornelia, but you--what need
you care about the debates in the senate? Besides, Cornelius Cinna
is related to your family. Your views as to what contributes to the
prosperity of the Roman people differ no doubt....”
“In Jupiter’s name, child!” cried Octavia horrified. “Claudia, what are
you saying? If your father were to hear you....”
“But, my dear mother,” answered the girl, “I am only speaking the
truth. There are many very estimable men....”
“Be silent--when and where did you pick up such notions? Attend to your
music and your poets, give your mind to the flowers you twist into your
hair, but never meddle with the mysteries of state-craft.”
The young girl looked down in some confusion.
“Do not pay any heed to it, mother dear!” said Lucilia. “She chatters
without thinking. But, once more--do come with us. Cornelius Cinna
will very likely not be visible; you know how strangely the old
man behaves. Come, mother--and remember, dear little mother, it is
Cornelia’s birthday. She will certainly feel hurt, if the mother of her
future husband lets the day pass without going to embrace her.”
“It is of no use; your father’s wishes have always been my law. Believe
me, my sweet child, the utmost I can do is to allow you to visit at
that house....”
“Come, that would be too bad, mother! I really believe, that if he had
not formally released Quintus from his filial bondage, he would have
been capable of forbidding the marriage.”
“It is quite possible,” replied Octavia. “That noble soul places the
commonwealth above every other consideration. You can hardly imagine,
how unswervingly he goes on the road he believes to be the right one.”
“Oh yes! I know his resolute nature,” said Claudia, “and I honor and
admire it. Say no more, Lucilia; mother is right. A man must never
yield even a hand-breadth, and silent obedience is a wife’s first duty.”
“You are my dear good child,” said Octavia much touched. “And believe
me when I say, that the fulfilment of this duty, hard as it seems, is
a heartfelt joy when such a man as your father is the husband. He is
strict and firm, but not a tyrant; he is always ready to listen to
reason, and to take council with the chosen companion of his life. Nay,
he is not above learning from the humblest. On one point only he stands
like a rock against which the surf beats in vain, and that point is
Duty.”
“Here comes Baucis!” cried Lucilia with a laugh of saucy amusement.
“Hail, oh fairest of brides, clad in the garb of rejoicing! Baucis in
sky-blue! If this does not procure her a Philemon, I must despair of
the fate of humanity.”
“You hear, mistress, how shamefully she mocks your waiting-woman,” said
Baucis in lamentable tones. “I can never do anything right. If I wear
grey, she hints at an ass; if I put on a handsome dress, she laughs at
me to my face. However, what I had to say is, that the litters are at
the door and the young master has asked three times if his sisters were
coming.”
“We are quite ready,” said Claudia.
A dense crowd had gathered outside the vestibule. Quintus, with
only three of his slaves, was waiting impatiently in the entrance.
The twelve litter-bearers in their red livery stood by the poles,
and eight negroes--the van and rear-guard of the procession--were
staring vacantly into the air. A number of idlers had collected round
these--the inquisitive gapers who always swarmed wherever there was
anything to be seen, however trivial. These were the class who, not
choosing to work, lived on the corn given away by the state;[216] the
uproarious mob who filled the upper rows of seats in the theatres and
circus; the populace whose suffrages no Caesar was too proud to court,
since it was among these that arbitrary despotism had its most staunch
adherents, in the struggle against the last remnants of a free and
freedom-loving aristocracy.
“Oh! how handsome she is!” ran from mouth to mouth among the loiterers,
as Claudia stepped into the foremost litter; Lucilia took her place by
her adopted sister’s side. The second litter was to carry Baucis and a
young slave girl.
“Make way!” cried the principal runner, stepping among the crowd, who
fell back, and the procession set out. Quintus followed on foot at a
short distance.
Their way led them through the Forum and past the venerable temple
of Saturn, where the Roman state-treasure was kept. To the right on
the Palatine, spread the enormous palaces of the Caesars, and among
them the capitol and the splendid but scarcely-finished residence of
Domitian. Proceeding but slowly, they reached the Arch of Titus[217]
and then, leaving the fountain of the Meta Sudans[218] and the vast
Flavian amphitheatre[219] to the right, they turned into the street
leading to the Caelimontana Gate.[220] The throng of humanity, which
in the neighborhood of the Forum defied all description, here became
somewhat thinner; and the litter-bearers mended their pace. In about
ten minutes they stopped at a house, which in point of magnificence was
hardly inferior to that of the Flamen Titus Claudius Mucianus. In the
vestibule, beside the door-keeper, there stood a stout little woman,
who hailed the visitors from afar with a broad grin, and was most eager
to be of use to the young ladies as they alighted. This little woman
was Chloe, Cornelia’s maid; her mistress now appeared on the scene, a
tall and finely-made young girl, with hair as black as night, dressed
entirely in white and wearing no ornament but a string of large,
softly-gleaming pearls. The girls embraced each other warmly.
Quintus had by this time joined them; with a tender light in his
eyes he went straight up to his betrothed and kissed her gravely on
the forehead. “All health, happiness and blessing on you, on your
birthday,[221] my sweet Cornelia!” he said affectionately; then taking
her hand he led her into the atrium. This was festally decorated with
flowers; in the middle stood a hearth[222] after the old fashion, but
there were no images of the Lares and Penates. Cornelius Cinna held
the opinions and views of the world at large, which had been taught
by Lucretius[223] and Pliny the Elder;[224] he thought it folly to
enquire curiously as to the form and aspect of the Divinity, or even
of any particular god or goddess; since, if there be indeed a Power
beyond and behind Nature, that Power must be Force and Wisdom pure and
simple. Hence he contemned all the ordinary household gods.
Eight or ten guests were already assembled in the atrium, among them
Caius Aurelius and his faithful follower Herodianus.
The young Batavian did not at first seem to observe the new arrivals.
He was standing in grave conversation with the master of the house,
whose gloomy and almost sinister countenance by no means harmonized
with the gay decorations of the hearth and the Corinthian columns.
“I thank you,” said Cinna offering the young man his hand. “Your words
have done me good. But now, ask no farther....”
“As you desire....”
“One thing more, my dear Caius--Quintus Claudius too must know how
strongly I feel on this point. After dinner bring him, as if by chance,
into my study....”
“Trust to me.”
“Very good; and now for a few hours I will try to banish these memories
from my soul. As you see me, Caius, you may think it a miracle that I
am not choked by the insult! And not a soul that could sympathize with
me! Nerva, my old friend, was absent. Even Trajan was so far off as
Antium[225]....”
“And Caius Aurelius was too young and too much a stranger?” said the
Batavian laughing.
“Yes, I must confess that it was so. From the first, it is true, I saw
you to be an admirable youth, and I thank my friend at Gades, who sent
you with letters of introduction to me; but I could not guess how early
ripe and truly noble your whole nature was, how fervent your patriotism
and how unconquerable your pride.--But in all truth, Aurelius, from
this day forth--here comes Quintus and his sisters; we part for the
present, but do not forget!”
His face, which had brightened somewhat as he spoke, fell again to the
expression of grave, almost sinister determination, which characterized
his strongly-marked features. He crossed the atrium to the entrance
where the young people, surrounded by their guests, were chatting
gaily. Cinna pressed the hand of his niece’s lover--kindly, but yet
with a certain reserve--and addressed a few half-jesting words to the
girls; but when Claudia attempted to offer such apology as best she
might for her mother’s absence, he turned away as if he did not hear.
At this moment the noble figure of an old man appeared in the doorway;
with a gleaming white toga over his shoulders and flowing snowy locks,
his towering height gave him a majestic presence.
“Cocceius Nerva,” whispered the Batavian to Herodianus, who came up to
him to ask.
“By Castor!” said the freedman, “but if I had met this man on arriving
here, I should have said that he and no other must be the ruler of the
world.”
“Remember, we are in Rome, and you will do well to keep such ideas to
yourself.”
Cornelius Cinna led the illustrious senator to a handsome marble seat
covered with carpets, and a circle of reverent friends formed round him
at once.
“By all the gods,” muttered Herodianus, “may I perish if that marble
seat does not look for all the world like a throne; and they stand
round him like the guard round Caesar.--And now, as he raises his
right hand! If he were but thirty years younger, he would be like that
image of Zeus we bought a while since in Gades; he only lacks the
thunderbolt.”
“Silence!” repeated Aurelius angrily. “You have had no wine yet
to-day--what will you not say when you have played your part at dinner,
if you are as thirsty as usual?”
“I will not say another word,” replied the freedman.
Claudia, who till this instant had been talking eagerly with Ulpius
Trajanus, a Hispanian friend of Cinna’s, of Cocceius Nerva’s--too
eagerly, Aurelius thought--now went off with Cornelia under the
colonnade to see the birthday gifts which, in accordance with an old
Roman custom, had been sent to Cornelia early in the day. They were
tastefully laid out in the arcade on brazen tables; gold brooches
and necklaces among exquisite flowers; tissues mixed with silk;[226]
handsome books with purple edges, rolled on cylinders of amber and
ebony; little slippers worked with pearls; beaten silver vessels from
the hand of Mentor,[227] the esteemed silversmith; Arabian and Indian
perfumes from the stores of Niceros,[228] the famous druggist; ribbons
and trimmings of amethyst-purple;[229] stuffed birds, fruits from Asia
Minor, and a hundred other costly trifles from every quarter of the
world made up the tribute sent to this spoilt daughter of a senatorial
house.
Aurelius took advantage of the opportunity, and went to join the young
girls. Claudia affected great surprise at seeing him, but immediately
after gave the young man her hand with frank warmth, as though ashamed
in truth of any disingenuous coquetry towards such a man as Aurelius.
Still, the conversation they began was not particularly lively; they
stood in front of the tables and made the usual remarks--this present
was charming, that offering was splendid. Cornelia declared, that
prettiest of all were the exquisite roses[230] that Quintus had given
her--and Claudia sighed, very softly, still she sighed.
At this moment a grinning head appeared in the frame of a door close
by. This was Chloe, Cornelia’s maid.
“I beg your pardon,” she said with comical importance. “But if I
disturb you, it is from sheer necessity. The steward of the tables[231]
cannot arrange the places for the company.”
“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,[232] 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.[233]
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 phoenix[234]....”
“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,”[235] 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, epic[236] 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!”
FOOTNOTES:
[207] ORBILIUS. The well-known schoolmaster, nicknamed by his pupils
_plagosus_, (delighting in blows) to whom Horace went. (Suet.
_Gramm._ 9.)
[208] I SUPPOSE YOU WOULD LIKE TO STICK A PIN INTO ME. Roman ladies
often avenged mistakes committed by their slaves, during the
process of making their toilettes, by such abuse. Nay, it
sometimes happened that a slave thus stabbed was killed. See
Mart. _Ep._ II, 66, where Lalage knocks down the female slave
Plecusa on account of a single curl escaping from her hair.
[209] AH! YOU NAUGHTY GIRL. With the sovereign contempt with which
so many Romans treated their slaves, this tone, addressed
to the daughter of the house, might seem strange, but even
under the emperors the relation between masters and slaves
was in many respects a patriarchial one. The older slaves,
especially, were permitted many familiarities in their
intercourse with the children of the family, who often called
them “little father,” “little mother,” allowed them to reprove
them, and according to their personality, frequently permitted
them to exercise no little authority. A beautiful example of
cordial relations existing between the master, and his slaves
and freedmen, is shown us in a letter from the younger Pliny
to Paullinus (_Ep._ V. 19) where he says: “I see how mildly
you treat your people, and therefore acknowledge the more
frankly how indulgent I am to mine; I always remember the
words of Homer:
“‘And was kind as a father....’
and our own ‘father of a family’ (_pater familias_). But
even were I harsher and sterner by nature, I should be
moved by the illness of my freedman Zosimus, to whom I must
show the greater kindness, now that he needs it more.... My
long-standing affection for him, which is only increased by
anxiety, affords a guarantee for that. Surely it is natural,
that nothing so fans and increases love as the fear of loss,
which I have already endured more than once on his account.
Some years ago, after reciting a long time with much effort,
he raised blood; so I sent him to Egypt, from whence he
returned a short time since greatly strengthened by the long
journey. But on straining his voice too much for several days,
a slight cough served to remind us of the old difficulty, and
he again raised blood. Therefore I intend to send him to your
estate at Forojulium, having often heard you say that the air
there was healthful, and the milk very beneficial in such
diseases.”
[210] WEDDING WITH OFFERING OF CORN. The oldest form of the
marriage ceremony was the _Confarreatio_, so-called from the
offerings of grain (far). By this form the wife entirely lost
her independence. Her property passed into her husband’s
possession, and she could neither acquire anything for
herself, nor transact any legal business. The desire for
emancipation, here jestingly uttered by Lucilia, was in
reality very widely diffused throughout Rome at the time of
our story, and the form of the _Confarreatio_ was therefore
constantly becoming rarer.
[211] CITRUS-WOOD. The citrus (_tuja cupressoides_) a beautiful tree
growing on the sides of the Atlas, furnished costly tops for
tables, for which the most extravagant prices were paid, as
the trunks rarely attained the requisite degree of thickness.
Pliny (_Hist. Nat._ XIII, 15) mentions slabs almost four feet
in diameter, and six inches thick. Cicero gave a million
sesterces for a citrus-wood table. Seneca is said to have
owned five hundred of them. The slab rested on a single base
of skilfully-carved ivory, from which they received the name
of _monopodia_ (a single foot).
[212] STOLA. The over-garment worn by women (_stola_) was trimmed
around the bottom with a border (_instita_) that often
lengthened into a train.
[213] METAL MIRROR. At the time of our story mirrors made of a
mixture of gold, silver and copper were preferred.
[214] WHO HIRE FLATTERERS TO PRAISE THEM. See _Quintillian_, XI, 3,
131; Juv. _Sat._ XIII, 29-31, Plin. _Ep._ II, 14, 4.
[215] THE CENTUMVIRATE. A body of judges whose function it was to
decide in civil cases, more particularly in suits concerning
inheritance. The Decemvirate presided over them.
[216] LIVED ON THE CORN GIVEN AWAY BY THE STATE. The number of Roman
paupers, who lived almost exclusively by this means, far
surpassed those who need support in civilized countries at the
present time.
[217] THE ARCH OF TITUS. The triumphal arch of Titus, at the
southeastern corner of the Forum Romanum, designed for the
commemoration of the victory over the Jews, A.D. 81, is
still standing at the present day. It bears the inscription:
“_Senatus populusque Romanus divo Tito divi Vespasiani filio
Vespasiano Augusto_.” Some of its bas-reliefs are admirably
preserved.
[218] META SUDANS. One of the Metae (the obelisks at the upper and
lower ends of the circus) resembling a fountain, not far from
the Flavian amphitheatre. Part of the sub-structure still
remains.
[219] THE FLAVIAN AMPHITHEATRE, now the Coliseum. This edifice,
commenced by the emperor Vespasian at the close of the Jewish
war, finished under Titus, and dedicated A.D. 80, contained
seats for 87,000 spectators, and room for 20,000 more in the
open gallery. Even at the present time, no similar structure
in the world has equalled, far less surpassed it in extent and
magnificence.
[220] CAELIMONTANA GATE.. (_Porta Caelimontana_) near the Lateran.
The street here entered by Claudia and Lucilia still exists;
it now bears the name of Via di San Giovanni in Laterano.
[221] THE BIRTHDAY (_dies natalis, sacra natalicia_) was celebrated
in ancient times.
[222] IN THE MIDDLE STOOD A HEARTH. The real hearth, originally in
the atrium, had long since vanished from the atria of the
wealthy and aristocratic. Here a festal hearth erected for the
occasion is meant.
[223] LUCRETIUS. Titus Lucretius Carus, who was born in the year 98,
and died in 55 B.C., composed a philosophical didactic poem
“on the nature of things.” (_De Rerum Natura._) The view of
the world taken in it is a thoroughly material one. The poet
constructs the universe out of an infinite multitude of atoms,
which exist singly and imperishably in infinite space.
[224] PLINY THE ELDER. Caius Plinius Secundus, called to distinguish
him from his nephew, so often quoted here, the elder (major) a
warrior, statesman, and famous naturalist, was born at Novum
Comum, A.D. 23. He met his death, a victim to his thirst for
scientific knowledge, at the great eruption of Vesuvius, A.D.
79. (See the famous description in his nephew’s letter to
Tacitus, Plin. _Ep._ VI, 16.) Of his numerous works, nothing
has come down to us except the _Historia Naturalis_, a vast
encyclopedia, the material for which was obtained from more
than 2,000 volumes. He was an absolute denier of the gods,
nay, of transcendentalism altogether. The opinions attributed
to Cinna are in part literally copied from the _Historia
Naturalis_.
[225] ANTIUM. The modern Porto d’Anzio, an ancient city south of
Rome. Many Roman aristocrats owned country-seats there.
[226] TISSUES MIXED WITH SILK. Fabrics made entirely of silk were
rare in Rome.
[227] MENTOR was a famous sculptor, especially celebrated for his
cups and goblets in metal (_repoussé_). Pliny. _Hist. Nat._
VII, 38, and XIII, 11, 12, also Martial, Ep. III, 41:
The lizard wrought by Mentor’s hand so rare,
Was fear’d i’ the cup, as though it living were.
WRIGHT.
that is, the silver lizard, wrought on the cup, is so true to
life, that people might fear it. See Mart. _Ep._ IV, 39, IX,
59 (cups that Mentor’s hand ennobled), etc.
[228] NICEROS. See Mart. _Ep._ VI, 55 (“because you smelt Niceros’s
leaden vials ...”) Mart. _Ep._ X, 38, (“the lamps that exhaled
Niceros’s sweet perfumes ...”) and Mart. _Ep._ XII, 65, (“a
pound of ointment from Cosmus or Niceros.”)
[229] RIBBONS AND TRIMMINGS OF AMETHYST-PURPLE. Garments of
amethystine-purple, woollen material (_amethystina_ or _vestes
amethystinae_) were among the most magnificent and costly
clothes. See Mart. _Ep._ I, 97, 7, and Juv. _Sat._ VII, 136.
The color was so-called because it glittered in the amethyst,
a violet-blue gem.
[230] EXQUISITE ROSES. Roses and violets were the favorite flowers
of the ancients. The use of these blossoms was enormous. For
the rose-culture in Rome, see Varro, _R. Rust_, I, 16, 3.
[231] THE STEWARD OF THE TABLES. The chief slave in the dining-room,
the butler, was called _Tricliniarcha_. (Petr. XXII, 6,
_Inscr. Orell._ No. 794.)
[232] PAESTUM (Παὶστον) in the most ancient times Posidonia, a city
on the western coast of Lucania, south of the mouth of the
Silarus, (now Sele) was famous for its magnificent roses.
[233] ATELLANIAN BUFFOON. Atellanae (_Atellanae fabulae, ludi
Atellani_) was the name given to a species of dramatic
performance, somewhat coarsely comical in character. The
material for these plays was taken from the lives of the
humble citizens and country people. The language used was
that of every-day life, and they were often written in the
Oscan dialect. The name comes from the Campanian city Atella,
where this style of play first originated. Certain fundamental
characteristics of the Atellanae representations are still
visible in Italian popular farces.
[234] PHOENIX. See Tac. _Ann._ VI, 28, Plin. _Hist. Nat._ X. 2, _Ov.
Met._ XV, 392.
[235] LIKE CRAPE FROM COS. Corduba, now Cordova, on the Baetis, now
the Guadalquivir, was one of the most important commercial
cities in Spain, the principal place in Hispania Baetica, the
seat of the imperial governor. See Strabo III, 141. Materials
woven from Spanish flax (_carbasus_) were considered specially
delicate for clothing.
[236] EPIC from Epos (ἒπος)--word, speech, tale. Afterwards the Greeks
distinguished epic poetry from lyric by the ἒπη.