I found him in a small upper chamber, lighted by a single si

BLACKWOOD’S

STANDARD NOVELS

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VALERIUS

VALERIUS

A ROMAN STORY

NEW EDITION

WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS

EDINBURGH AND LONDON

VALERIUS.

_BOOK I. CHAPTER I._

Since you are desirous, my friends, that I should relate to you, at length

and in order, the things which happened to me during my journey to Rome,

notwithstanding the pain which it must cost me to throw myself back into

some of the feelings of that time, I cannot refuse to comply with your

request. After threescore years spent in this remote province of an

empire, happy, for the most part, in the protection of enlightened, just,

and benevolent princes, I remember, far more accurately than things which

occurred only a few months ago, the minutest particulars of what I saw and

heard while I sojourned, young and a stranger, among the luxuries and

cruelties of the capital of the world, as yet imperfectly recovered from

the effects of the flagitious tyranny of the last of the Flavii.

My father, as you have heard, came with his legion into this island, and

married a lady of native blood, some years before the first arrival of

Agricola. In the wars of that illustrious commander, during the reigns of

Vespasian and Titus, he had the fortune to find opportunities of

distinguishing himself; but when his general was recalled, by the jealousy

of Domitian, he retired from public life, and determined to spend the

remainder of his days in peace, on the lands which belonged to him in

right of his wife here in Britain. He laid the foundations of the house in

which I have now the pleasure of receiving you; and here, in the

cultivation of his fields, and in the superintendence of my education, he

found sufficient employment for an active, though no longer an ambitious

mind. Early in the reign of Trajan he died. Never did either Roman or

British dwelling lament a more generous master.

I cannot pretend to regret the accident which immediately afterwards

separated me from a gentle mother—never to see her more upon the earth.

Yet deeply was the happiness of my returning hour stained by that

privation. It is the common rule of nature, that our parents should

precede us to the grave; and it is also her rule, that our grief for them

should not be of such power as to prevent us from entering, after they are

gone, into a zealous participation both of the business and the pleasures

of life. Yet, in after years, the memory of that buried tenderness rises

up ever and anon, and wins rather than warns us to a deliberate

contemplation of our own dissolution.

Towards the end of the winter following the death of my father, there

arrived letters which engaged anxious consideration. They were from

members of his family, none of whom either my mother or myself had seen.

It was explained, especially by Caius Licinius, the lawyer, (who was near

of kin to our house,) that by the death of a certain Patrician, Cneius

Valerius by name, I had become legally entitled to a very considerable

fortune, to claim and take possession of which, demanded my immediate

presence in the metropolis. My rights, said this jurist, were indeed

called in question by another branch of the family, but were I on the

spot, his professional exertions, with whatever interest he or any of his

friends could command, should be at my service, for the sake of my father

and of my name.

The love of travel had never before been excited in my bosom; but now that

I knew I was so soon to embark for Italy, the delights which I might there

hope to experience came crowding upon my imagination. The dark and

pine-clad banks of my native Anton, said I, shall now be exchanged for

that golden-waved Tiber, of which so many illustrious poets have sung.

Instead of moving here among the ill-cemented and motley fabric of an

insulated colony, and seeing only the sullen submission of barbarians on

the one hand, or the paltry vanity of provincial deputies on the other, I

shall tread the same ground with the rulers of the earth, and wear, among

native Romans, the gown of my ancestors. I shall behold the Forum, which

has heard the eloquence of Cicero and Hortensius; I shall ascend to the

Capitol, where Cæsar triumphed; I shall wander in the luxurious gardens of

Sallust, or breathe the fresh air in the fields of Cato: I shall gaze upon

the antique majesty of temples and palaces, and open my eyes on all that

art and nature have been able to heap together through eight centuries,

for the ornament of the chosen seat of wisdom and valour.

A single trusty slave was selected to accompany me. It was not certainly

on account of his accomplishments that Boto had been chosen for this duty;

for although he had lived all his days in the vicinity of the colonists at

Venta, there was scarcely a person within the bounds of the British Belgæ

that spoke worse Latin. He was, however, a man of natural sagacity,

possessing shrewd discernment concerning whatever things had fallen under

his customary observation; and he shewed no symptom either of diffidence

respecting his qualifications for this new office, or of regret at being

separated from those in whose company many years of gentle servitude had

glided over his sun-burnt countenance. It was reported to me, that he

invited several of our rustics to drink with him in one of the out-houses,

where his exultation knew no limits. He was going to Rome, for his young

master very well knew he could never get on in such a journey without the

helping eye and hand of Boto; and he had a brother in Italy already, (he

had gone over with a distinguished legionary some ten years before,) and

from him (for he would of course meet with him as soon as our arrival

should be known) he would receive all requisite information concerning the

doings of the great city. The usefulness which, he doubted not, I should

be constrained to acknowledge in his manifold qualifications, would,

without all question, entitle him to some signal reward—perhaps nothing

less than manumission on his return.

Two days passed more quickly than any I ever remember to have spent amidst

a strange mixture of mirth, and sorrow, and noisy preparation.

Where that single tall naked pine now stands buffeted by the wind, then

grew a thick grove, of which that relic alone survives. It was there that

I turned round to gaze once more on the quiet verdure of these paternal

fields, and our small pastoral stream glistening here and there beneath

the shady covert of its margin.

I had at first intended to cross over to Gaul, and traversing that

province, enter Italy, either by the route of the Alps, in case we could

procure convenient guides and companions, or by some vessel sailing from

Marseilles or Forum Julii to Ostium. But the advice of one of my

neighbours, who had himself been a great traveller, made me alter this

plan, and resolve to commit myself to the care of an experienced mariner

who was just about to sail for Italy, by the way of the pillars of

Hercules, in a vessel laden chiefly with tin; and on reaching the

Clausentum, I found this man, with several passengers, ready for the

voyage.

For the first three or four days, I was so afflicted by the motion of the

vessel, that I could bestow little attention on any external object; my

eyes were so confused and dazzled, that I saw nothing beyond the corner of

the deck on which I had caused my carpets to be laid; and a few

ejaculations to Castor and Pollux were all the articulate sounds that I

uttered. By degrees, however, the weight of my depression began to be

alleviated; and at intervals, more particularly during the night watches,

if I was not altogether in possession of myself, I was at least well

enough to enjoy a sort of giddy delight in watching the billows as they

rose and retreated from the prow. There were moments, also, in which the

behaviour of Boto, under this new species of calamity, could furnish me,

as it had already done the more hardy of my fellow-voyagers, with store of

mirth. Near us frequently, upon the deck, sat a Captain of the Prætorian

Bands, who, more than any other of these, displayed a florid complexion

and cheerful eye, unalterable by the fluctuation of the waters. This

Sabinus had served in all the wars of Agricola, and accompanied him even

in his perilous circumnavigation of the islands which lie scattered to the

north of Britain. He had also gone back to Rome with his commander, not,

like him, to extenuate imperial jealousy by the affectation of indolence,

but to seek for new occupation on some other disturbed frontier of the

Empire. In Syria and Cappadocia he had spent some years; after which, he

had attended the Emperor himself through Mæsia and Illyricum, and all

those countries he traversed and retraversed, during that shameful contest

in which so many Roman eagles were made the prey of barbarous enemies, and

which terminated at last in that cowardly treaty, by which Domitian

granted a diadem to Decebalus, and condescended to place the Roman Senate

among the tributaries of a Dacian. Our friend had also strutted his part

in that gorgeous triumph, or rather succession of triumphs, by which the

defeated and disgraced Prince, on his return from the Ister, mocked the

eyes and ears of the incredulous and indignant Romans. In a word, he had

partaken in all kinds of fortune, good and evil, and preserved his

rubicundity and equanimity unaltered in them all. Having attained to a

situation of some dignity, he had now been visiting Britain on a special

message from the new Emperor, and was returning in the hope that no future

accident of fortune, or princely caprice, would ever again make it

necessary for him to quit the shows and festivities of the capital.

This good-natured man sat down beside my suffering peasant, endeavouring

to withdraw his attention from the pangs of his sickness, by pointing out

the different boats which came in view as we held on from the Gobæan

rocks, keeping close to the shore as we went, in order to shun, as well as

we could, the customary fury of the Aquitanic Ocean. “Behold these

fishing-vessels,” he would cry, “which have undoubtedly been upon the

coast of Rutupia for oysters, or it may be about the mouth of yonder

Ligoris for turbot, and are now stretching all their canvass to get home

with their booty to Italy. Smooth be your winds and fair your passage, oh

rare fish!” To which the downcast Boto would reply, “Lavish not, oh

master, your good wishes upon the mute fish, which have been tossed about

all their lives, but reserve them rather for me (unhappy) who am thus

tormented in an unnatural and intolerable manner;” or perhaps, “Speak not,

I beseech you, of oysters, or of turbot, or of any other eatable, for I

believe I shall never again feel hungry, so grievously are all my internal

parts discomposed. Oh, that I had never left my native fields, and

bartered the repose of my whole body for the vain hope of gratification to

my eyes!”

By degrees, however, custom reconciled all of us to the motion of the

bark, and the weather being calm during the greater part of the voyage, I

enjoyed, at my leisure, the beauties, both of the sea, and of the shores

alongst which we glided. From time to time, we put in for water and other

necessaries, to various sea-ports of the Spanish Peninsula; but our stay

was never so long at any place as to admit of us losing sight of our

vessel. Our chief delight, indeed, consisted in the softness and amenity

of the moonlight nights we spent in sailing along the coasts of

Mauritania,—now the dark mountains of the family of Atlas throwing their

shadows far into the sea—and anon, its margin glittering with the white

towers of Siga, or Gilba, or Cartenna, or some other of the rich cities of

that old Carthaginian region. On such nights it was the custom of all the

passengers to be congregated together upon the deck, where the silent

pleasures of contemplation were, from time to time, interrupted by some

merry song chanted in chorus by the mariners, or perhaps some wild

barbarian ditty, consecrated by the zeal of Boto to the honour of some

ancient indigenous hero of the North. Nor did our jovial Prætorian disdain

to contribute now and then to the amusement of the assembly, by some

boisterous war-song, composed, perhaps, by some light-hearted young

spearman, which our centurion might have learned by heart, without any

regular exertion, from hearing it sung around many a British and Dacian

watch-fire.

Thus we contrived to pass the time in a cheerful manner, till we reached

the Lilybæan promontory. We tarried there two days to refit some part of

our rigging, and then stretched boldly across the lower sea, towards the

mouth of the Tiber. We were becalmed, however, for a whole day and night,

after we had come within sight of the Pharos of Ostium, where, but for the

small boats that came out to us with fresh fish and fruit, we should have

had some difficulty in preserving our patience; for, by this time, our

stock of wine was run to the last cup, and nothing remained to be eat but

some mouldy biscuit which had survived two voyages between Italy and

Britain. During this unwelcome delay, the Prætorian endeavoured to give me

as much information as he could about the steps necessary to be pursued on

my arrival in the city. But, to say truth, his experience had lain chiefly

among martial expeditions and jovial recreations, so that I could easily

perceive he was no great master of the rules of civil life. From him,

however, I was glad to find, that the reputation of Licinius was really as

great at Rome as it had been represented in our province; and, indeed, he

treated me with a yet greater measure of attention after he was informed

of my relationship to that celebrated jurist.

Early in the morning, a light breeze sprung up from the west, and with

joyful acclamations the sails were once again uplifted. The number of

mariners on board was insufficient for impelling the heavily laden vessel

altogether by the force of oars, but now they did not refuse to assist the

favouring breeze with strenuous and lively exertion. The Prætorian cheered

and incited them by his merry voice, and even the passengers were not

loath to assist them in this labour. My slave, among the rest, joined in

the toil; but his awkwardness soon relieved him from his seat on the

bench; a disgrace which he would have shared with his master, had I been

equally officious.

Ere long, we could trace with exactness those enormous structures by which

the munificence of Augustus had guarded and adorned that great avenue of

nations to the imperial city. Those mountains of marble, projected on

either side into the deep, surpassed every notion I had formed of the

extent to which art may carry its rivalry of nature. Their immovable

masses were garnished here and there with towers and battlements, on which

the Prætorian pointed out to me the frame-work of those terrible

catapults, and other engines of warfare, of which no specimens have ever

been seen in Britain.

No sooner had we stept upon the shore, than we were surrounded by a great

throng of hard-favoured persons, who pulled us by the cloak, with

innumerable interrogations and offers of service. Among these, the

varieties of form, complexion, and accent, were such, that we could not

regard them without especial wonder; for it appeared as if every tribe and

language under heaven had sent some representative to this great seaport

of Rome. The fair hair and blue eye of the Gaul or German, might here be

seen close by the tawny skin of the Numidian or Getulian slave, or the

shining blackness of the Ethiopian visage. The Greek merchant was ready,

with his Thracian bondsman carrying his glittering wares upon his back;

the usurer was there, with his arms folded closely in his mantle; nor was

the Chaldean or Assyrian soothsayer awanting, with his air of abstraction

and his flowing beard.

Boto, as if alarmed with the prevailing bustle, and fearful lest some

untoward accident should separate us, kept close behind me, grasping my

gown. But our good friend Sabinus did not long leave us in this

perplexity; for, having hastily engaged the master of a small barge to

carry him to Rome, he insisted that I should partake of this easy method

of conveyance. We found the vessel small but convenient, furnished with a

red awning, under which cushions and carpets were already stretched out

for our repose. The oars were soon in motion, and we began to emerge from

among the forest of masts with a rapidity which astonished me; for the

multitude of vessels of all sizes, continually crossing and re-crossing,

was so great, that at first I expected every moment some dangerous

accident might occur.

By degrees, however, such objects failed to keep alive my attention; the

sleeplessness of the preceding night, and the abundance of an Ostian

repast, conspiring to lull me into a gentle doze, which continued for I

know not what space. I awoke, greatly refreshed, and found we had made

considerable progress; for the continual succession of stately edifices

already indicated the vicinity of the metropolis. The dark green of the

venerable groves, amidst which the buildings were, for the most part,

embosomed, and the livelier beauties of the parterres which here and there

intervened between these and the river, afforded a soft delight to my

eyes, which had so long been fatigued with the uniform flash and dazzle of

the Mediterranean waves, and the roughness of the sea-beaten precipices.

The minute and elaborate cultivation every where visible, the smoothness

of the shorn turf on the margin, the graceful foliage of the ancient

planes and sycamores,—but, above all, the sublimity of the porticos and

arcades, and the air of established and inviolable elegance which pervaded

the whole region, kept my mind in pleasurable wonder. Here and there, a

gentle winding conducted us through some deep and massy shade of oaks and

elms; whose branches, stretching far out from either side, diffused a

sombre and melancholy blackness almost entirely over the face of Tiber.

Loitering carelessly, or couched supinely, beneath some of these hoary

branches, we could see, from time to time, the figure of some stately

Roman, or white-robed lady, with her favourite scroll of parchment in her

hand. The cool and glassy rippling of the water produced a humming music

of stillness in the air, which nothing disturbed, save only the regular

dash of the oars, and, now and then, the deep and strenuous voice of our

cautious helmsman. Anon would ensue some glimpse of the open champaign,

descending with all its wealth of golden sheaves to the very brink of the

river—or, perhaps, the lively courts of a farmyard stretching along the

margin of some tributary streamlet—or some long expanse of level meadow,

with herds of snow-white heifers. I could not gaze upon the rich and

splendid scene without reverting, with a strange mixture of emotions, to

the image of this my native land; its wild forests, shaggy with brushwood

and unprofitable coppice, through which of old the enormous wild deer

stalked undisturbed, except by the adder of the grass, or the obscene fly

of the thicket; its little patches of corn and meadow, laboriously rescued

from the domain of the wild beast, and rudely fortified against his

continual incursions;—the scattered hamlets of this Brigian valley, and my

own humble villa—then humbler than it is now. Trees, and temples, and

gardens, and meadows, and towns, and villages, were, ere long, lost in one

uniform sobriety of twilight; and it was already quite dark, when the

centurion, pointing to the left bank, said, “Behold the Gardens of Cæsar:

beyond, is the Portian Gate, and the street of the Rural Lares. In a few

moments we shall see the lights of the Sublician Bridge, and be in the

city.” At these words I started up, and gazing forward, could penetrate

through the mists of evening into the busy glare of a thousand streets and

lanes, opening upon the river. The old wall was already visible; where,

after having swept round the region towards the Vatican and Janicular

Hills, it brings the last of its turrets close down to the Tiber, over

against the great dock-yards by the Field of Brutus.

Through a forest of triremes, galleys, and all sorts of craft, we then

shot on to the bridge—beneath the centre arch of which our steersman

conducted us. Beyond, such was the hum of people on the quays, and such

the star-like profusion of lights reflected in the water, that we doubted

not we had already reached the chief seat of the bustle of Rome. On,

however, we still held our course, till the theatre of Marcellus rose like

a mountain on our right. It was there that we ran our bark into the shore,

not far from the little bridge—the third as you ascend the river—which

conducts to the Island and the Temple of Æsculapius. While our friend was

settling matters with the master, and the attendants were bringing out our

baggage, I stood by myself on the elevated quay. Here a long tier of

reflected radiance bespoke, it may be, the vicinity of some splendid

portico—of palace, or temple, or bath, or theatre; there a broad and

steady blaze of burning red, indicated the abode of artizans, resolved, as

it seemed, on carrying their toil into the bosom of the night.

Between—some speck of lustre betrayed, perhaps, the lamp of the solitary

student, or the sober social hour of some peaceful family, assembled

around the hearth of their modest lares. Behold me then, said I, in the

capital of the globe; but were I to be swallowed up this moment in the

waves of Tiber, not one of all these lights would be dimmed.

_CHAPTER II._

Being told that my relation had his residence at no great distance, the

friendly Sabinus insisted upon escorting me thither in safety. We walked,

therefore, along two or three proud streets, which brought us near to the

Pantheon of Agrippa, and there the house was easily pointed out to us; its

porch decorated with recent palm-branches, which the Centurion said must

have been placed there by the joyful hands of some fortunate client. Here

having thanked this kind person, and left honest Boto among the crowd of

slaves in the vestibule, I was speedily conducted into the presence of the

Patrician.

I found him in a small upper chamber, lighted by a single silver lamp

suspended from the roof, enjoying, as it appeared, repose and relaxation

after the exertions of the day. He was reclining when I entered; and

although supper was long over, some fruits and other trifling things still

remained on the board. At table with him there was no one present,

excepting a Greek of solemn aspect, whom he introduced to me as the

superintendent of his son’s education, and Sextus himself, a modest and

ingenuous youth, who sat at the lower extremity of his father’s couch. He

was indeed a very mild and amiable young man, and I had more pleasure,

after a space, in surveying his features, than the more marked lineaments

of the other two. At first, however, nothing riveted my attention so much

as the energetic physiognomy of the Senator. The forepart of his head was

already quite bald, although the darkness of the short curls behind

testified that age was not the cause of this deformity. His eyes were

black and rapid, and his eyebrows vibrated in a remarkable manner, not

only when he spoke, but even when he was silent; indicating, as it

appeared, by their transitions, every new train of thought and imagination

within his mind. His style of conversation was quick and fervid, and his

gestures vehement as he spake; it being apparent, that, from restlessness

and vanity of disposition, he was continually exercising a needless

measure of mental activity and anxiety. Not satisfied with his own

sufficient richness of ideas, no thought could be expressed which he did

not immediately seize upon, and explain, even to him by whom it had been

first suggested, with much fluency and earnestness of illustration. On the

other hand, the guest, who wore a long beard reaching to his girdle,

preserved in all things an uncommon demureness of manner, restraining

every salient movement of his mind, and watching, with the gravity of a

Numa, the glancing eyes and sharp features of his patron. A roll of yellow

parchment graced his left hand, but the other was employed in selecting

from the table such articles as were most agreeable to his palate.

Licinius, although meagre in person, and at that time parched with

declamation, seemed to live in such a state of intellectual excitement,

that he thought little either of eating or drinking; therefore, the

Athenian, resigning, for the most part, his share of the conversation,

amused himself, in exchange, with the more trivial gratifications

abandoned to him by his host. Nor, if one might draw any conclusion from

his complexion and figure, was this the first occasion on which

Xerophrastes had exercised that species of humility.

When Licinius had inquired of me concerning my native place, and also

given a few words to the affairs which had brought me to the city, his

conversation was naturally directed to subjects more new to me, if not

more interesting to him. “You would observe,” said he, “the palm branches

at my door. They were won to-day by a five hours’ harangue before the

Centumviri. It is only in contests such as these that men of my order have

now any opportunity to exercise themselves, and preserve some remembrance

of those ancient worthies and great public characters that once adorned

the state. To these things, therefore, young kinsman, I entirely devote

myself; nor aim, like other citizens of rank, at passing the day in

diversion, and ending it with luxuries. At supper my table is furnished

with moderate fare, while in other houses I know not how many roasted

boars and pompous sturgeons have been regaling with the rich perfume of

their sauces and stuffing, guests who love the meat more than the man who

gives it. This learned person knows how laborious is my course of life,

and what an impatient crowd awaits my appearance every morning. His pupil

will, I hope, tread in the same steps, and afford to a future generation

the image of the former Licinius.” With these, and the like discourses, he

occupied our ears till it was time to retire; and then intimated that he

had allotted to me an apartment which he expected I would continually

occupy during my residence in the city. But being informed that I had a

British slave with me, he insisted on having this man sent for, that he

might see him, as he expressed it, before the genuine unsophisticated

barbarian had been corrupted by keeping company with the cunning menials

of the metropolis. Whereupon, it was commanded that Boto should come up,

and he was forthwith ushered in by a certain leering varlet, with rings in

his ears, whose face resembled some comic mask in the habitual archness of

its malicious and inquisitive look.

Not few were the bows and scrapes with which my Briton entered these

penetralia; nor was the astonishment inconsiderable with which the orator

regarded Boto. “So, friend,” said Licinius,—“and you have ventured to come

to Rome, without so much as shaving your beard?” But the merry and

good-natured tone in which these words were uttered, having somewhat

reassured the bashful rustic, he gave a sly side-look towards the

philosopher, (who, I think, had never once glanced at him,) and replied to

Licinius, “Pardon me, O master, for coming thus into your presence; but I

knew not, till Dromo told me, that beards were worn in Rome only by goats

and the wisest of mankind.” The words of the barbarian amused the

orator—but, turning round to his own slave, “Ah! Dromo,” said he, “do I

already recognize the effects of your teaching?—beware the whip, corrupt

not this good Briton, at your peril.” He then asked of Boto various

questions concerning his recent voyage; to all of which he made answers

after his own fashion, sufficiently sagacious. Great contempt, however,

was depicted on the face of the silent stoic during this conversation;

which he, no doubt, looked upon as a very unworthy condescension on the

part of Licinius; till at last, having, in a leisurely manner, poured out

the last of the flagon, Xerophrastes arose from his couch and departed. As

he withdrew, he unfortunately struck his knee on the corner of the table,

which elicited from his stubborn features a sudden contortion. This,

however, he immediately smoothed of, twisting his involuntary stoop into

an obeisance to the Senator.

Young Sextus conducted me to my chamber; and we conversed together with

easy juvenile confidence for some time before he left me.

_CHAPTER III._

My sleep was sound and sweet; nevertheless, when the morning began to

dawn, I was awakened by its first glimmerings, and found that my thoughts

became at once too busy to admit of a return to slumber. I therefore

arose, and went to walk in an open gallery, with which my chamber was

connected. This gallery commanded a prospect of a great part of the city,

which at that hour appeared no less tranquil than stately, nothing being

in motion except a few small boats gliding here and there upon the river.

Neither as yet had any smoke begun to darken the atmosphere; so that all

things were seen in a serene and steady light, the shadows falling broadly

westward over streets and squares—but pillars, and obelisks, and arches,

rising up every where with unsullied magnificence into the bright air of

the morning. The numerous poplars and other lofty trees of the gardens,

also, seemed to be rejoicing in the hour of dew and silence; so fresh and

cheerful was the intermixture of their branches among the piles of white

and yellow marble. Near at hand, over the groves of the Philoclean

Mansion, I could see the dome of the Pantheon, all burnished with living

gold, and the proud colonnades of the Flaminian Circus, loaded with armies

of brazen statues. Between these and the river, the theatres of Pompey and

Marcellus, and I know not how many temples, were visible. Across a more

crowded region, to the westward, my eye ascended to the cliffs and towers

of the Capitol; while, still farther removed from me, (although less

elevated in natural situation,) the gorgeous mansion of the Emperor was

seen, lifted up, like some new and separate city, upon its enormous fabric

of arcades. Behind me, the Flavian Amphitheatre, the newest and the most

majestic of all Roman edifices, detained the eye for a space from all that

lay beyond it—the splendid mass of the Esquiline—and those innumerable

aqueducts which lie stretched out, arch after arch, and pillar after

pillar, across the surrounding plain.

As I stood upon a projecting balcony, I heard some person stepping softly

along the floor, and, being screened by some pillars, looked back into the

gallery without subjecting myself to observation in return. The noise, I

found, was occasioned by one of the slaves of Licinius, (the same I had

remarked over night,) who had an air of anxious vigilance on this

occasion, looking about from side to side as if afraid of being detected

in some impropriety. I heard him tap at one of the apartments adjoining my

own, and young Sextus, opening the door, eagerly asked, “Well, Dromo, good

Dromo, what news?—Have you seen or heard any thing of her?—Speak low, I

beseech you, and remember that my preceptor is near.” “Which preceptor?”

replied Dromo; “count me your best, and I will teach you how to manage all

besides.”—“Hush!” whispered the young man; “he may be astir with these

eternal parchments.”—“Be easy,” returned the slave; “I have found out

facts which will serve to bridle that tongue at any time.”—“Dromo,” said

Sextus, “have a care; remember the thong of sleek leather which hangs at

the foot of the stair-case; and many is the time I have saved you from it;

for which you may, perhaps, have to thank the beauty of her who has

rendered you necessary to me, as much as my own good nature. But no more

idle words at present—what have you to tell me?”

“I have just been down,” answered he, “to the herb-market. I had made my

bargain, and was coming away, when I met one of old Capito’s men, driving

an ass laden with articles from the country. So I asked if he was carrying

a present to his master’s brother. He said he had brought nothing for

Lucius but a letter; and that he believed its purport was to invite the

two young ladies, to come out to-day and enjoy the beauty of the season. I

no sooner got this information, than I ran hither as swiftly as my legs

would carry me. You can easily go out, as if by chance, to pay your

respects to the Patrician.”

“Ah, Sempronia!” sighed Sextus, “shall I approach you at last?—What will

she think when she sees me there?—Oh, how will she speak to me?”

While he was uttering these words, Dromo suddenly started, and came

peeping on tiptoe towards the place where I stood. I stepped from behind

my pillar, and said to the astonished youth, “Fear not, Sextus, that I

shall intermeddle with your secrets, or make any use of what I have

accidentally overheard. But I wish you would satisfy my curiosity, and

inform me who is this lady, and what may be the meaning of all this

concealment?”

Here Dromo, perceiving that his young master was a good deal confused,

came forward and said, “From observing your looks last night, when I was

making a handle of yon barbarian to torture our friend of the porch, I

think you are a good-natured person, who would not willingly bring any of

us into trouble. The truth is, that Licinius wishes my young master here

to marry a certain lady, who has already had wet eyes over the ashes of a

first husband; but who is of noble birth, and very rich. Now Sextus, being

only eighteen, does not like this great lady so well as she likes him; and

has, in fact, lost his heart elsewhere.”—“Dromo,” answered I, taking young

Sextus by the hand as I spoke, “this is a pretty common sort of story; but

I shall take no side till I have seen both of the ladies; and the sooner

your ingenuity can bring that about, the more shall I be beholden to

you.”—“We shall try,” replied the slave, observing that I had overcome the

reluctance of the lover; “but in the meantime I observe that the clients

are beginning to assemble in the porch, to await the forthcoming of

Licinius. Go, therefore, and get some breakfast, for, by and by, you will

both be expected to accompany the Senator to the Forum, to hear him plead;

which, between ourselves, will be a six hours’ job for you, unless you

manage matters dexterously.”

This hint produced a visible effect on Sextus; but we went down together

immediately to an apartment, where some bread and grapes were prepared for

us; and there, with much ingenuousness, he opened his heart to me. But

what surprised me most of all, was to hear, that although he had been

enamoured of Sempronia for several months, and was well acquainted with

several of her relations, he had never yet seen her, except at certain

places of public resort, nor enjoyed any opportunity of making known his

passion.

While I was expressing my astonishment at this circumstance, we were

interrupted by Xerophrastes, who came to inform us that Licinius, having

already descended into the hall, was about to issue forth, and desirous of

my company, if no other occupation detained me. We accordingly followed

the philosopher, and found his patron where he had indicated, pacing to

and fro, in the highest state of excitation, like a generous steed about

to scour the field of battle. The waxen effigies of his ancestors stood at

one end of the hall, some of them defaced with age; and upon these he

frequently fixed his ardent eyes. Seeing me enter, he immediately cried

out, “Come hither, young friend, and I shall presently conduct you to a

scene worthy, above all others, of the curiosity of a stranger.”

With this, arranging his gown, and putting himself into a dignified

attitude, he ordered the porter, who stood chained by the door, to throw

wide its massy valves; which being done, the litigants and consulters, who

were without, received the orator with acclamations, and surrounded him on

all sides. Some of the poorer ones, I observed kissing the hem of his

garment, and dodging wistfully at his elbows, without ever attracting a

word or look from him; while those of a higher class came forward more

familiarly, seeking to impress particular circumstances upon his memory,

and paying him compliments on the appearance he had made the day before in

the Centumviral Court. Encircled by this motley group, he walked towards

the great Forum, followed at a little distance by Sextus, the preceptor,

myself, and some freedmen of his household. In moving on, we passed, by

accident, the door of another great pleader, by name Bruttianus, who stood

there attended in a similar manner. When he perceived Licinius, this man

took from his door-post a green palm-branch, and waved it towards us in a

vaunting manner; but our friend, saluting him courteously, cried out, with

his sharp and cutting voice, “We shall try it again.” Whereon

Xerophrastes, immediately stepping up to his patron, began thus, “How this

vain-glorious person exposes himself!—he is certainly a weak man; and his

tones, by Hermes, are more detestable than those of an African fowl.”—At

which words, Sextus tipped me the wink; but I did not observe that

Licinius was at all displeased with them. Yet, soon after, Bruttianus

having overtaken us, the processions were joined, and the two pleaders

walked the rest of the way together in a loving manner, exchanging

complimentary speeches; to which Xerophrastes listened with edifying

gravity of visage.

At length we entered that venerable space, every yard of whose surface is

consecrated to the peculiar memory of some great incident in the history

of Rome. Young Sextus allowed me to contemplate for some time, with silent

wonder, the memorable objects which conspired to the decoration of this

remarkable place; but after the first gaze of astonishment was satisfied,

proceeded to point out, in order, the names and uses of the principal

structures which rose on every side over its porticos—above all, of its

sublime temples—into whose cool and shady recesses the eye could here and

there penetrate through the open valves. Nor did the ancient rostrum from

which Tully had declaimed, escape our observation—nor within its guarding

rail of silver, the rising shoots of the old mysterious fig-tree of

Romulus—nor the rich tesselated pavement which covered the spot that had

once yawned an abyss before the steady eye of Curtius—nor the resplendent

Milliary pillar which marked the centre of the place. In a word, had the

gathering crowds permitted, I could have willingly spent many hours in

listening to the explanation of such magnificent objects; but these, and

the elevated voice of Licinius, who was just beginning his harangue, soon

compelled me to attend to things of another description.

Within one of the proud ranges of arcade, on the side nearest to the

Capitoline stairs, a majestic Patrician had already taken his seat on an

elevated tribunal—his assessors being arranged on a lower bench by his

side, and the orators and clients congregated beneath. When I heard the

clear and harmonious periods of my kinsman; when I observed with what

apparent simplicity he laid his foundations in a few plain facts and

propositions; with what admirable art he upreared from these a

superstructure of conclusions, equally easy as unexpected; when he had

conducted us to the end of his argument, and closed with a burst of

passionate eloquence, in which he seemed to leave even himself behind him,

I could not but feel as if I had now for the first time contemplated the

practised strength of intellect. Yet I have lived to discover that the

talent which so greatly excited my wonder is often possessed from nature,

or acquired through practice, in a measure which at that time would have

afforded me scarcely inferior delight, by men of no extraordinary rank.

The keen and lively gestures of the fervid Licinius, whose soul seemed to

speak out of every finger he moved, and who appeared to be altogether

immersed in the cause he pleaded, were succeeded by the solemn and

somewhat pompous stateliness of Bruttianus, who made a brief pause between

every two sentences, as if he were apprehensive that the mind of the judge

could not keep pace with the stream of his illustrations, and looked round

ever and anon upon the spectators with a placid and assured smile, rather,

as it seemed to me, to signify his approbation of their taste in

applauding him, than his own pleasure in their applauses. Nevertheless, he

also was a splendid speaker, and his affectation displeased the more,

because it was evidently unworthy of his understanding. While he was

speaking, I observed that the Stoic preceptor was frequently shifting his

place among the crowd, and muttering every where expressions of high

contempt. But this did not disgust me so much as the fixed attitude of

ecstasy in which he listened to the discourse of his own patron, and the

pretended involuntary exclamations of his delight. “Oh, admirable

cadence!” he would say, “I feel as if I were draining a honey-comb. Oh,

harmonious man, where have I, or any other person here, sucked in such

sweetness!” These absurd phrases, however, were caught up forthwith, and

repeated by the numerous young men who hung upon the skirts of the orator,

and seemed, indeed, to be drinking in nectar from the speech, if one might

judge from their countenances. From their taking notes in their tablets

from time to time, and from the knowing looks they assumed at the

commencement of every new chain of argument, I guessed that these might be

embryo jurisconsults, preparing themselves by their attendance for future

exertions of the same species; and, indeed, when I listened to their

conversation at the close of every speech, I thought I could perceive in

their tones and accents, studied mimicry of the natural peculiarities of

Licinius, Bruttianus, and the other orators. Altogether, the scene was as

full of amusement as of novelty, and I could willingly have remained to

the end of the discussion. But my eyes chanced to fall upon young Sextus,

and I could not but see that his mind was occupied in matters remote from

the business of the Forum. He stood with his arms folded in his gown, and

his eyes fixed upon the ground, only lifting them up from time to time

with an impatient air towards a side entrance, or to observe by the

shadows on the porticos what progress the sun was making.

Perceiving, at length, that Xerophrastes had his back turned to us, and

that his father was engaged with his tablets, he plucked me by the sleeve.

I understood his meaning, and followed him quickly through the crowd; nor

did we look back till we had left the noise of the Forensic assembly

entirely behind us. “I am depriving you,” he said, “of no great

gratification, for that old creature is, indeed, possessed of much natural

shrewdness, but he is bitter from observing that his reputation is rather

eclipsed by younger people, and looks like some worn-out and discarded

cat, grinning from the top of the wall at the dalliance of some sleeker

rival. You could find no delight in the angry sneerings of such an envious

person; and his age would prevent you, at the same time, from willingly

giving way to contemptuous emotions. I will be your guide to the villa.

But if any questions be asked on our return, you can say I was anxious to

shew you something of the other regions of the city.”

He hurried me through noble streets, and past innumerable edifices, before

each of which I would gladly have paused. Nevertheless, seeing him wrapped

up in anxious thoughts, I did not oppose myself to his inclinations; and

ere long, having passed the Hill of Gardens, I found that we had gained

the eastern limit of the city.

_CHAPTER IV._

A sharp walk of about an hour and a half on the Salarean Way, brought us

within sight of the Suburban of Capito.

A lofty wall protected the fields of this retirement from the intrusive

eyes of passengers. We entered by a small side-door, and found ourselves,

as if by some magical delusion, transported from the glare of a Roman

highway, into the depth and silence of some primeval forest. No nicely

trimmed path conducted our feet. Every thing had at least the appearance

of being left as nature had formed it. The fern rustled beneath us as we

moved; the ivy was seen spreading its careless tresses from tree to tree;

the fawn bounded from the thicket. By degrees, however, the gloom

lessened, till at length, over an open space of lawn, we perceived the

porch of entrance, and a long line of colonnade. We passed under the

porch, and across a paved court where a fountain was playing, into the

great hall, which commanded all the other side of the place—a noble

prospect of elaborate gardens gradually rising into shady hills, and lost

in a distance of impenetrable wood.

Here a freedman attended us, who informed us that Capito had retired into

a sequestered part of the grounds with some friends from the city; but

that if we chose we could easily join him there. We assented, and,

following his guidance, ere long traversed no narrow space of luxuriant

cultivation. From one perfumed terrace we descended to another; till,

having reached a certain green and mossy walk, darkened by a natural

arching of vines and mulberries, the freedman pointed to a statue at the

farther end, and told us it stood over against the entrance of his

master’s summer-house. When we reached the statue, however, we could

perceive no building. The shaded avenue terminated in face of a

precipitous rock, from which there fell a small stream that was received

in a massive basin, where the waters foamed into spray without

transgressing the margin. A thousand delicious plants and far-sought

flowers clustered around the base of the rock and the brink of the

fountain, and the humming of innumerable bees mingled with the whispers of

the stream. We stood for a moment uncertain whether we should move on or

retire, when we heard one calling to us from beyond; and passing to the

other side of the basin, descried, between the rock and the falling water,

a low entrance into what seemed to be a natural cave or grotto. We

stooped, and found ourselves within one of the most luxurious retirements

ever haunted by the foot of Dryad. A sparry roof hung like a canopy of

gems and crystals over a group of sculptured Nymphs and Fawns, which were

placed on a rustic pedestal within a circular bath shaped out of the

living stone. Around the edge of the waveless waters that slumbered in

this green recess, were spread carpets rich with the dyes of Tyrian art,

whereon Capito was reposing with his friends. He received Sextus with

kindness, and me with politeness, introducing us both to his companions,

who were three in number—all of them, like himself, advanced in years, and

two of them wearing long beards, though their demeanour was destitute of

any thing like the affected stateliness of our friend Xerophrastes. These

two, as our host informed us, were Greeks and Rhetoricians—the third, a

Patrician of the house of the Pontii, devoted, like himself, to the

pursuits of philosophy and the pleasures of a literary retirement.

They were engaged, when we joined them, in a conversation which had sprung

from the perusal of some new metaphysical treatise. One of the Greeks, the

more serene-looking of the pair, was defending its doctrines with

earnestness of manner, although in a low and measured cadence of voice;

the other espoused the opposite side, with quickness of utterance and

severe animation of look; while the two lordly Romans seemed to be

contenting themselves, for the most part, with listening, although it was

not difficult to perceive from their countenances, that the one sided in

opinion with the Stoic, and Capito himself with the Epicurean.