The noonday bustle was at its height in the baths of Titus. A constant
stream of men, for the most part belonging to the rank of senators
or the class of knights, flowed steadily through the wide Corinthian
portico to the _apodyterium_,[47] where a host of slaves were busy in
divesting the new-comers of their toga and tunic.
An equally dense crowd filled the _elaothesium_,[48] where the body was
anointed with oil, and pressed through into the gymnasium,[49] where
wrestling and discus-throwing were practised. One of the first laws of
old Roman hygiene prescribed exercises of this kind before the bath.
When the muscles had thus been thoroughly stretched, the bather wrapped
himself in a light woollen garment and sat down to cool himself.
This quarter of an hour of cooling on the benches round the
wrestling-hall was one of the pleasantest of the day. Nowhere else was
the chat so humorous or so gracious; nowhere else were the events of
the day discussed with so much wit and acumen. Here, Martial launched
his most daring epigrams. Here, Parthenius, the chamberlain, retailed
the most flagrant intrigues and richest scandals. Here the last triumph
in the circus was discussed, the proceedings of fair Lycoris, the
achievement of some great gladiator, the peculations of a provincial
governor, the will of a childless senator,[50] the suits pending before
the centumvirate, the last recitations, banquets, deaths--but whatever
the whims and humors of the loungers might bring uppermost, it was
always cast in a form of easy grace, and discussed with a peculiar
sparkle of light humor.
On the day in question there was the usual flow of free talk in the
luxuriously-furnished hall, and the marble statues, which looked down
from their purple niches, might have heard, if they could, many a
cutting speech and many a peal of noisy laughter.
One of the most reckless talkers, in a group that had gathered round
Martial, was Clodianus; his rubicund face beamed with Dionysiac
excitement. The poet, wrapped over his ears in his sheet, had just
delivered himself of an epigram, in his most pungent style, on an
incident in the life of a certain attorney-at-law.[51] This man,
Sabellus by name, a perfect model of incapacity, was never chosen to
conduct a case by any but people of the lowest class, and from the
beginning of his career had never once been successful. At last he had
gained his first cause. The matter in dispute had been a cart-horse
belonging to a wagoner. His client had offered the triumphant advocate
a honorarium paid in kind, and the worthy Sabellus, in the excess
of his joy, was talking of the brilliant success of his efforts in
every public place in Rome. The poet described with malicious glee,
how Sabellus had already told the story of the great horse case eight
times, and at each repetition held his head a little higher. Martial
concluded with these improvised lines:
"All these jubilant airs our friend Sabellus
Founds on half a measure of meal and lentels,
Three half-pounds of frankincense and pepper,
Falernian chitterlings[52] and a Lucanian sausage,[53]
A Syrian jug of black and muddy liquor,
A jar of Libyan figs that might be fresher."[54]
The whole story, told with a mixture of infinite relish and irony,
was irresistible; but not one of the party laughed so immoderately,
so long, and so loud, as the starch adjutant. He could not get over
it; laughter as of a cyclops filled his throat; it was as though the
honest clumsiness of the soldier stood revealed in this naive and noisy
amusement. His demeanor was so frank and blunt, that it might have
satisfied Caesar himself.
Still, this loud joviality was somewhat belied by the glances which
Clodianus cast from time to time, when he thought himself unobserved,
at a corner of the hall, where a man with piercing eyes and a strong
aquiline nose, was beguiling the quarter of an hour spent in cooling
himself, by reading. When the loud shout of laughter echoed through the
room like the rattle of thunder, the reader raised his reddened eyelids.
“What, Stephanus!” shouted Clodianus, holding his sides. “You are once
more to be seen here? You have neglected us too much these last weeks.
Martial grows more audacious every day. He is a splendid rascal, this
Hispanian bully; by Incitatus! but he makes mince-meat of our Quirites.
The story of Sabellus is delicious, a thing to revel in! And what are
you studying here, in the intervals of discus-throwing?”
He had slowly gone up to the steward, while the group round the witty
epigrammatist were already drawn into the current of another story.
“You are too kind,” replied Stephanus. “But an individual can never be
missed, where good talk is kept up by so many distinguished men. I am
worried and out of spirits, and quite out of place among the gay and
cheerful.”
Clodianus expressed his regret in a long-drawn “Ah,” but his eye
betrayed no sorrow. He seated himself on the couch by Stephanus.
"It is very true, the air of the city is saturated with anxiety. I have
my own little share of it. You know the old saying: 'A scorpion lurks
under every stone.'" Stephanus smiled.
“You carry your politeness--or your irony--too far.--You, the most
fortunate man in Rome.”
“I might very well say the same of you. Except the little annoyances
that Cneius Afranius can cause you, your life is that of a god on
Olympus.--To be sure,” he added in a lower voice, “that man’s tenacity
is beginning to look threatening. All the more so since....”
“Well, finish your sentence.”
“Well, then, you know that until now I have found ways and means of
parrying his attacks, but now....”
The freedman turned pale.
“But now...?”
“Now certain symptoms are revealing themselves--symptoms which make me
suspect, that I shall not be able much longer to elude his thrusts.”
He had spoken these words hardly above his breath. They distilled
slowly into the steward’s ear like poisonous adders, and seemed to
writhe in his very soul.
“Impossible!” he exclaimed in a choked voice. “You, the influential
favorite of Caesar....”
“It is as I say. Why, I cannot myself altogether understand, but I
am alive to the fact. The wind is blowing keenly through all the
Basilicas, and if you do not keep a bright look-out you may be wrecked.”
“But, by Jupiter! why have I not heard this till to-day?”
“Because I fancied at first that I might be deceiving myself....
Splendid! First rate, Duilius! That is what I call throwing. Look, look
now--_Io triumphe_. A winner at Olympia could not beat that!”
“I implore you,” whispered Stephanus, “tell me at once....”
“Keep calm,” replied Clodianus. “The Baths are not the place for such a
discussion. Where do you dine?”
“With Lycoris.”
"Good, I will excuse myself to Furius, and go with you. After supper,
in the park, we shall easily secure a few minutes.... Bravo, Septimius!
bravo! What wonderful muscles! Praxiteles[55] ought to have had you for
a model! By Castor, but you will break every bone in Sempronius' body,
sturdy as he is! Well, then," he went on, turning to Stephanus again,
“we shall meet at the fair Massilian’s table.”
He rose with a friendly nod, and passed through the great door in the
inner wall into the _frigidarium_.[56] There he tossed his woollen
wrapper over the head of a slave, and descended in all the dignity of
stalwart corpulence into the vast bath. More than a hundred bathers
were already sitting in it, up to their shoulders in the transparent
water. Only a few swimmers were disporting themselves at the farther
end.
Clodianus sat down too, thinking contentedly, and his gaze wandered
round the noble hall. The light, which poured in from above through
a circular opening, sparkled and twinkled so gaily on the dancing
ripples--the splashing from the shells, through which the pipes were
led which constantly renewed the water, sounded so soothing--the
graceful forms of the nymphs in the fresco painting, and of the marble
goddesses on their tall pedestals smiled so seductively, that any one
might have supposed that the radiant expression on the adjutant's
features was nothing more than a reflection from these bright and rosy
surroundings.
But Clodianus saw much more with the mind’s eye, than with the eye of
the senses. Elaborate schemes were disentangling themselves in his
restless, brooding brain; incredible events rose before his fancy in
vivid colors.
And Clodianus looked better pleased than ever, when the tall figure of
Stephanus appeared on the threshold. Sternly as the wily steward strove
to conceal his feelings, Clodianus saw at a glance what an effect his
revelation had had upon him, and he laughed, like a hunter who has had
good sport in the field.
“You are as radiant as the sun-god!” said a little man, who went down
the steps at this instant. “It is horribly cold this morning--pure
snow-water.”
His teeth chattered, and he shrugged his shoulders up to his ears.
“Ah! Sextus Furius!” cried Clodianus, a little startled. “I am glad to
meet you. I wanted to let you know, as soon as I quitted the bath, that
I am prevented dining with you to-day. Important business....”
“That is a pity,” replied the noble Senator, who, here, in the
frigidarium, was not by any means an Apollo. “I had a great many things
to talk to you about.”
“Business?”
“Concerning the chamberlain. You know we are in treaty over an estate
at Baiae?”
“To be sure.--A most delightful residence. Made on purpose for the
raptures of the honeymoon.” And he winked significantly. But the little
Senator pursed up his mouth and knit his brows in displeasure, and
flourished his elbows so vehemently that the water splashed up all
round him.
“Furius, you are becoming a perfect Fury!” cried Clodianus. Then he
laughed at his own precious wit and stirred his side of the bath into
circling wavelets.
“You seem monstrously happy!” remarked Furius biting his lips.
“Monstrously! And if I only had a sweetheart as handsome and as hugely
rich as your divine Claudia....”
“Pooh, nonsense, I have not got so far as that yet. Titus Claudius, at
the eleventh hour, begged for time for reflection.”
“You are in treaty for the estate all the same?”
“Certainly--what do you think now? If the affair with Claudius falls
through, I shall carry my suit next day to Fannia, who is younger, or
to Paula or to old Camilla. My honor is at stake. I have already made
every preparation; dramatic and pantomimic performances, sham fights
and races. I cannot possibly withdraw; I am compromised on every side.”
And again he shivered and his teeth chattered. An instant later he
sprang with one leap out of the bath.
“Good-bye,” he said, “I am fast turning to ice. With regard to the
estate.--Well, we can talk of that another time.” He ran as fast as he
could across the flags and flung himself into the warm water of the
_caldarium_ in the farther pillared hall. After warming his chilled
limbs there for a short time, he submitted himself to the operations
of the _tractators_[57] or shampooers with brushes and strigils, and
then, as red as a boiled lobster, betook himself to the dressing-rooms.
He presently made his way home, anointed with Egyptian and Phoenician
perfumes, and among the cushions of his luxurious dining-couch did his
best to forget the chill of the _frigidarium_ and the coldness of his
coy Claudia.
Clodianus finished the processes of the bath with an air of profound
satisfaction, that was observed by all the bathers and accepted
as undoubted evidence of his security in his office. No doubt the
impression that he left behind him, here and elsewhere, must have some
effect on Domitian. Caesar’s capricious and vacillating nature was
often more easily guided by such trifles, than by well-considered and
deliberate action.
From the baths Clodianus went on foot to the residence of Lycoris,
talking as he went with the greatest affability to the clients and
slaves who accompanied him. Nay, with one of his clients he exchanged
blows in sham fight, regardless of the numerous gazers who respectfully
made way for him, but who were greatly amazed at this rough jesting.
At the house of the Massilian he met a mixed company. Stephanus had
already arrived, and he preserved his usual calm and easy indifference,
when the adjutant came in. But he gradually made plans and preparations
to involve Clodianus in a tête-à-tête conversation, while Clodianus
showed great cleverness in ignoring and evading these attempts. They
went to table and were entertained by flute-players and singers. The
Lucrine oysters were relished with intolerable deliberateness; the
succession of dishes was positively interminable--so, at least, it
seemed to the freedman, who was quite exasperated by the soldier’s huge
appetite.
At last, at last, they rose, and, after a quarter, another quarter of
an hour’s manoeuvring, Stephanus gained his point. He was slowly
pacing by the gourmand’s side through the splendid avenues, where the
light west wind now and again lifted a brown leaf from the bough and
wafted it to its rest on the ground.
“You see I am in the greatest agitation,” began Stephanus, as his
companion seemed inclined to continue a conversation begun at the
supper-table. Clodianus suddenly turned quite solemn.
“To be frank with you,” he said, “you have good reason. Why should I
try to conceal it? The situation is most critical Be on your guard,
Stephanus; I fear you may need all your keenest wits.--Hark! some one
is behind us; even here we are surrounded by listeners. Only one thing
I must say. Afranius is attracting Caesar’s liking....”
“That would be my ruin,” gasped the freedman in dismay.
“Not yet--you must not lose all hope. It is true that, if I am not
deceived, Caesar will not only allow, but will command Afranius to make
the strictest enquiries.--However, you have a crafty brain. I only
wanted to let you know the state of affairs; in the first place to warn
you, and secondly to show you the reason why my interference is now
at an end. Afranius indeed I might outwit, but....” He shrugged his
shoulders, and his face expressed the deepest concern. Stephanus gnawed
his lips.
“Then Afranius must be got out of the way,” he said, frowning. “I have
long thought I was too easy....”
“That would do no good. On the contrary; the sudden disappearance of
Afranius would excite comment and remark, and every one would know at
once to whom to attribute it. I tell you once more, it is not Afranius,
it is Caesar himself.--Silence! to-morrow come and see me in my villa
in the Via Praenestina--after sundown.--Nay, hold up your head,
Stephanus. If it comes to the worst you can take ship and sail for
Africa.”
“I? Leave Rome! I would die first. Rome is the only place where one can
breathe. I should die in a province.”
“Well, we can discuss that later. See, Lycoris and the noble Norbanus
have found us out--a well-matched pair! The conqueror of Dacian armies,
and the conqueror of Latin hearts. Come, fair mistress, and decide the
question; we are disputing as to whether the plane or the elm turns
yellow first. Speak the decisive word.”
Lycoris laughed.
“If you put me to torture, I do not know. They both turn yellow too
soon to please me.” She drew her cloak more closely round her, for the
evening was chilly. They turned and went down the avenue together;
Lycoris and the two soldiers in eager chat, Stephanus in the silence of
despair.
When, after a short walk, they reëntered the house, Clodianus laid his
hand on the steward’s arm and looked meaningly into his eyes. “Hold up
your head,” he said with determined emphasis. “You may conquer yet, if
you are a man.”
The words seemed to work a miracle. Stephanus inferred from them, that
Clodianus had not told him everything. This idea, and yet more the
peculiar expression of the adjutant’s manner, restored his confidence.
“To-morrow,” he whispered, as he shook hands with the astute officer.
Then the party gave themselves up to enjoyment--a gay party!
It was near midnight, when Stephanus set out homewards. He could now
hardly realize how he had so utterly lost heart at a single blow. Had
he not sailed with triumphant success round many a rocky shore? Had he
not ridden with safety through every storm? The storm that now roared
round him was, to be sure, a hurricane. But Clodianus, that stalwart
pilot, was standing at the helm.--In short--the much-dreaded Caesar was
but a man like other men.--It was folly to run his head against the
troubles of the future! “To-day is mine, and I will enjoy the present.”
In his bedroom he found his favorite, Antinous. The slave flew to meet
him with eager eyes, and as soon as the others had withdrawn, Stephanus
sat down on his couch, and called the lad to him.
“Well?” he said in a low voice.
“The game is ours,” said the slave. “But it has cost much trouble and
pains....”
“Ours? Do not sell the lion’s skin, before he is in the net.”
“But he is in the net. I have found out everything, and what I know, my
lord, will be the death of him as surely....”
“Do not go too fast; the Claudians are powerful. Nothing but the most
terrific stroke will fell him.”
“But hear me, and then judge. Quintus Claudius has joined the
Nazarenes.”
“Impossible! A millionaire has thrown in his lot with the beggars! It
is a lie, boy.” Antinous laughed.
“It sounds like a fable, does not it? But it is the truth all the same.
I pledge my head on it: before the week is out Quintus Claudius is
taken and sentenced.”
“Boy, you are a jewel!” cried Stephanus beside himself. “If all this
proves true, by the gods, I will have you set in gold.”
“My plan is most simple. To-morrow morning early....”
“That will do,” interrupted Stephanus, who was quite incapacitated by
delight, from attending to details. “I trust it all to you, and give
you full powers to do whatever you think necessary. As I live, that
would be a victory--a triumph such as never was heard of! Come here,
lad, that I may kiss you.” He hugged the boy as if he had lost his
reason.
“Now go, be off--I must rest.”
“Sleep well!” said Antinous. “You may rest on laurels.” And he ran off.
“Capital, glorious!” murmured his master. “Now--now, fair Domitia....”
In the excitement of his feelings he hid his head in the pillows; a
slight shudder shook his meagre frame. He clenched his fists, and
closed his lips tightly.--Thus he fell asleep; and his deep and
difficult breathing sounded loud in the still, dimly-lighted room.
FOOTNOTES:
[47] APODYTERIUM, (ἀποδυτήριον) the room where the clothing was removed
at the baths. See Plin. _Ep._ V, 6, where a dressing-room at the
bath of a villa is mentioned.
[48] ELAOTHESIUM, (ἐλαιοθήσιον) the anointing-room, the oil-room.
See _Vitr._ V. 11, 2.
[49] GYMNASIUM, (γυμνάσιον from γυμνός, naked) the wrestling-room.
[50] WILL OF A CHILDLESS SENATOR. See note, 324, Vol. I. That such
stories of wills formed one of the principal subjects of city
gossip (_fabulae urbis_) appears in Juv. _Sat._ I, 144, where
the failure of a will attracts attention, and Plin. _Ep._
VIII, 18, where the will of Domitius Tullus is mentioned. The
passage runs as follows: “The most contradictory rumors are
circulating through the whole city. Many call him ungrateful,
false and faithless.... Others, on the contrary, praise him,
because he disappointed the unworthy hopes of these people.”
And at the close of the long letter: “Now you know all the
city news, for nothing is talked of except Tullus.”
[51] AN INCIDENT IN THE LIFE OF A CERTAIN ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. The
following episode was suggested by Mart. _Ep._ IV, 46, where a
lawyer named Sabellus, is derided precisely as here described.
There, however, the point in question did not concern the
payment for a lawsuit won, but the customary gifts at the
Saturnalia. The lines given as improvised verse, a little
farther on, are to be found in Martial (verse 5-10.)
[52] FALERNIAN CHITTERLINGS, from the Etruscan city of Falerii. The
inhabitants of this city were called Faliscans.
[53] LUCANIAN SAUSAGE. The old Romans were passionately fond of
sausages. They had black-pudding (_botuli_) liver and common
sausage (_tomacula_) which were to be had hot in the streets
from little tin ovens, smoked sausage (_hillae_) and Lucanian.
(_Lucanicae_, so called from the province of Lucania in Lower
Italy, famed for its sausages) which were usually eaten with
spelt-flour bread. See Mart. _Ep._ XIII, 35:
“Daughter of a Picenian pig, I come from Lucania;
By me a grateful garnish is given to snow-white pottage.”
[54] MARTIAL _Ep._ IV., 46. “All these airs and all this exaltation
are excited in Sabellus by half a peck of meal and as much of
parched beans; by three half-pounds of frankincense, and as
many of pepper; by a sausage from Lucania, and a sow’s pauch
from Falerii; by a Syrian flagon of dark, mulled wine, and
some figs candied in a Libyan jar, accompanied with onions,
and shell-fish, and cheese. From a Picenian client came a
little chest that would scarcely hold a few olives, and a nest
of seven cups from Saguntum, polished with the potter’s rude
graver, the clay workmanship of a Spanish wheel, and a napkin
variegated with the laticlave. More profitable Saturnalia,
Sabellus has not had these ten years.”
BOHN, Class. Lib.
[55] PRAXITELES. A celebrated Athenian sculptor, creator of the
famous Cnidian Venus, a master of the graceful and charming.
Clodianus only means to say: a great sculptor; otherwise
something about Lysippus would have been more appropriate to
the subject--two wrestlers.
[56] FRIGIDARIUM. The cold bath, in distinction from the caldarium,
the hot bath. Rooms, similar to those described here--are
found, though of smaller size, among the excavations at
Pompeii.
[57] TRACTATORS, (_tractatores_). The name of the slaves who,
after the bath, rubbed and kneaded the body and limbs. (See
Sen. _Ep._ 66.) According to Mart. _Ep._ III, 82, slave-women
(_tractatrices_) also performed these services, but probably
only in private houses.