_Letter from Sabina to Chloe_
CAPREAE, _August_.
We arrived late the night before last from Rome, and never have I seen
Capreae so crowded. There are hundreds of yachts here, and many from
Egypt, Greece, and Asia, and the whole fleet has arrived, and is drawn
up ready for inspection. Clothes are, of course, a difficulty, because
one is expected to be elegant, and if one wears anything beautiful
it is certain to be spoilt when one gets in and out of boats. Clodia
looks too absurd in Egyptian silks and gold chains, just as if she were
going to the Games, and Lesbia looks sillier still dressed up as a
Greek sailor boy. I have tried to steer a middle course between the two
extremes, and I have got a plain white peplum with brown sandals; this
all looks cool and summer-like, but it is really substantial enough for
the fickle, breezy weather.
Yesterday we went with Sejanus to be shown over one of the ships,
the _Servius Tullius_. It was one of the new kind, with three decks
and four of what they call turrets. The officers on board were very
proud of themselves because in their “battering practice,” which they
had just been doing in some outlandish place, they had successfully
destroyed the _boom_ (which is a kind of mast sticking out from the
ship) of the dummy ship on which they practise. Julius says that these
experiments are a waste of money, because each of these dummy ships
costs I don’t know how much money. But then Julius is a Little Roman,
and I always tell him that if everybody thought as he did, we should
have the barbarians in Rome in no time.
The officers have such a hard life on board. They have to get up before
sunrise, and if any of them is at all disobedient he is told to climb
up the mast and sit in a kind of basket for several hours with nothing
to do. As for the sailors, they live in a dark hole with scarcely any
light in it and no air at all. I asked one of them whether this didn’t
give them a headache, and he said that some clever mathematician had
invented a kind of fan which buzzed round and round so as to ventilate
their cabin. He said this was a horrible invention, and made such a
draught that nobody could sleep. If you live at sea, he told me, you
want to be warm in your cabin. You have quite enough fresh air on deck.
Julius said this showed how perverse and conservative sailors are. If
he was the captain of a ship he would make the sailors sleep on deck in
hammocks without any blankets. The sailor said they were all thankful
Julius was a politician and not a sailor. And Julius, who has no sense
of humour, thought it was meant as a compliment.
There have been heaps of visitors on board all the ships. The captain
of the _Servius Tullius_ said it was wonderful what an interest people
took in the fleet now, and what intelligent questions they asked,
especially the women. I was rather flattered by this, as I have always
taken an intelligent interest in naval things, and I had only just
said to him (to show I wasn’t ignorant) that my favourite boat was a
_spinnaker_.
To-morrow there are going to be some races. I am going to try to get
Lucius Aemilius to take me on board his schooner, the _Hirundo_. I
always think a schooner is a safer boat than a cutter. I don’t really
like racing, because nobody will talk to one, and the men are all so
rude and absent-minded while the race is going on, and whatever one
does one is always in the way and in the wrong place, but I shall get
rid of Julius for a whole day, because he is a very bad sailor and
nothing would drag him on board a racing yacht.
Capreae is terribly crowded. I was invited upon Sejanus’ yacht, but I
think it much more comfortable to live in the most uncomfortable villa
than in the most comfortable yacht. There is no privacy in a yacht, and
salt water ruins my skin. Our villa, which we have hired for the week,
is quite clean, only there is only one bath in it, so that we all have
to use it by turn.
Vitellius, the admiral, has put one of the little pinnaces belonging
to his ship, the _Remus_, at our disposal. So we can go backwards and
forwards whenever we like. The pinnace is managed by one of the quite
young officers--such a nice little boy, and so willing! He doesn’t mind
how long I keep him waiting at the pier. It seems extraordinary that
such young boys should be able to manage a whole boat full of men,
doesn’t it? Ours looks about fifteen years old, but I suppose he is
really much older. I asked him to come and dine with us, and Julius was
cross about it, and said I was making myself ridiculous by talking to
children. But I promise you this boy has much more assurance than many
grown-up men. In fact, once or twice I have had to speak severely to
him because he was on the point of going too far. As it was, I treated
it all as a joke, and told him I was old enough to be his mother.
There have been a lot of the “Lysistratists” here--you know, the women
who are in favour of senators being all women. Of course, I have
nothing against their principles. If a man is a senator why shouldn’t
a woman be? Any woman is cleverer than any man. But I do think their
methods are silly and so _unwomanly_. One of them took a piece of chalk
and wrote “Women and Freedom” on Sejanus’ carpet. And another dressed
herself up as a Numidian slave, and shouted “Justice for Women” just
as he was in the middle of a serious speech at his banquet. But the
sailors like them very much, because they are so graceful, and on board
one of the ships of the fleet--I think it was the _Scipio_--one of the
chief “Lysistratists,” Camilla, entirely converted one of the men of
the “Legio classica”--those kind of half-soldiers, half-sailors, who
keep order on board the ships--and he is now a fervent “Lysistratist”
himself. The other sailors say this is very curious, as the man in
question had such a stern character. But then, you see, Camilla is
quite charming. Sejanus is horribly put out about it, and his house
has to be guarded day and night by soldiers. It is most inconvenient,
because the other day his own daughter Lydia was arrested as she was
going into the house. They had mistaken her for a “Lysistratist.”
Last night all the ships were illuminated with oil lamps, and ten
thousand Egyptian slaves danced and sang in the gardens. The result
was I did not get a wink of sleep, and the worst of it is that these
songs and dances go on all day as well as all night. On the beach, too,
there is every kind of acrobat, gipsy tumblers, and fortune-tellers.
There is a woman here who tells one marvellous things by looking at
one’s hand, only Julius, who, like all husbands, is now and then quite
unaccountably obstinate about little things, absolutely forbade me to
consult her, and so I had to give it up. She told Clodia she would be
married three times.
The Persian fleet arrives here to-morrow on a visit. Julius and I
are invited to dine at the Emperor’s villa, and Julius has to wear a
Persian uniform as a compliment to the Persians. It is made of scarlet
silk with orange sleeves, and a long green train fringed with silver;
he also has to wear a high tiara of steel and gold covered with jewels,
and extraordinary sandals laced up the leg with little bells. He tried
it on last night, and I can’t tell you what he looked like. (Julius has
grown to look much older since you saw him, and only the soberest togas
suit him.) I couldn’t help telling him he looked like a circus-rider,
and he was so offended that I have not been able to mention the
dinner since. Men are so funny. Julius is ashamed of being thought a
clever politician, which he is, and wants to be thought an excellent
quoit-player, and he can’t throw a quoit a yard. He stoops and he is
flabby, and yet he wants everybody to take him for an athlete!
How different from those nice sailors, who are so modest, and who are
pleased because they are sailors, and wouldn’t be anything else for the
world.
I must stop now, because the pinnace is “awaiting my pleasure,” and I
don’t want to keep my little sailor boy waiting. Farewell. I will write
again soon.
_P.S._--Whenever Julius is bad-tempered now I say I wish I had married
a sailor, because they are never, never, never rude to their wives. It
is true, of course, that they seldom see them, but I did not say that.
_P.P.S._--Later. We dined at the Emperor’s villa last night. It appears
that this morning a tiresome incident occurred. A fisherman brought the
Emperor some lobsters, and it turned out that one of them was not quite
fresh. So the Emperor had the fisherman hurled from the cliff into the
sea. He is subject every now and then to these fits of petulance; but I
must say he was charming last night, and most agreeable. Of course he
is self-conscious and he makes some people feel shy; but I get on with
him beautifully. He knows so much about everybody. We fancy he already
knew that Metellus has quite given up Clodia, and is now desperately in
love with Irene. He was most tactful with me, and never alluded either
to Sejanus or to Julius.