that I had been in the presence of a human being, foreseeing distinctly,
and quietly waiting, the termination of his mortal existence, and I could
not help asking of myself, how, under similar circumstances of terror, I
should have been able to sustain my spirits?—to what resources I should,
in such a moment, look for the support which seemed to have been
vouchsafed so abundantly to this old man; by what charm, in fine,—by what
tenet of philosophy, or by what hope of religion,—I should, in the midst
of life, be able to reconcile myself to a voluntary embrace of death! To
avoid disgrace, indeed, and dishonour, said I, I think I could be Roman
enough to dare the worst; but this poor man is willing to die, rather than
acknowledge, by one offering on the altar, the deities in whose worship
all his Greek ancestors have been trained; yet who, except perhaps a few
obscure individuals that have adopted the same new superstition, would
think this man dishonoured by returning to the religion of his fathers?
Deep, indeed, must be his conviction of the truth of that which he
professes to believe—serious indeed must be his faith, and high his trust.
What if, after all, his faith should be true, and his trust wise? And the
gentle Athanasia!—She too a Christian! Might not this mystery be hereafter
explained to me by her lips?
Musing and meditating thus, it was no wonder that I, who knew so little of
Rome, should have soon wandered from the straight way to the home of my
kinsman. But that I at last caught, at the turning of a street, a glimpse
of the Flavian Amphitheatre, which I had before passed on my way from the
feast of Rubellia, I might, perhaps, have wandered long. I had some notion
how that grand edifice was situated with respect to the house of Licinius,
and therefore moved towards it immediately, intending to pass straight
down from thence into the Sacred Way. But when I came close to the
Amphitheatre, I found that, surrounded on all sides by a city of sleep and
silence, that region was already filled with all manner of noise and
tumult, in consequence of the preparations which had begun to be made for
the spectacles. The east hardly yet indicated dawn; but the torches and
lanterns of workmen and artificers were in motion every where. On one
side, the whole way was blocked up with a throng of waggons; the
conductors, almost all Ethiopians and Numidians, lashing each other’s
horses, and exchanging, in their barbarous tongues, outcries of wrath and
execration. The bellowings that resounded from any of the waggons, which
happened to be set in motion amidst the throng, intimated that savage
beasts were confined within them; and when I had discovered this, and then
regarded the prodigious multitude of the vehicles, I cannot say what
horror came over me at thinking what cruel sights, and how lavish in
cruelty, were become the favourite pastimes of the most refined of
nations. I recognized the well-known short deep snort of the wild boar,
and the long hollow bark of the wolf; but a thousand fierce sounds,
mingled with these, were new to my ears. One voice, however, was so grand
in its notes of sullen rage, that I could not help asking a soldier, who
sate on horseback near me, from what monster it proceeded. The man
answered, that it was a lion; but then what laughter arose among some of
the rabble, that had overheard my interrogation; and what contemptuous
looks were thrown upon me by the naked negroes, who sate grinning in the
torch-light, on the tops of their carriages! Then one or two of the
soldiers would be compelled to ride into the midst of the confusion, to
separate some of these wretches, fighting with their whips about
precedence in the approach; and it seemed to me that the horses could not
away with the strong sickly smell of the wild beasts; for they would
prance, and caper, and rear on end, and snort as if panic-struck, and dart
themselves towards the other side; while some of the riders were thrown
off in the midst of the tumult, and others, with fierce and strong bits,
compelled the frightened or infuriated animals to endure the thing they
abhorred—in their wrath and pride forcing them even nearer than was
necessary. In another quarter, this close-mingled pile of carts and horses
was surmounted by the enormous heads of elephants, thrust up into the air,
some of them with their huge lithe trunks lashing and beating (for they,
too, as you have heard, would rather die than snuff in the breath of these
monsters of the woods,) while the tiara’d heads of their riders would be
seen tossed to and fro by their contortions. What a cry of cursing, what
cracking of whips and cords, what blowing of horns, and whistling and
screaming; and all this mixed with what roaring and howling from the
savage creatures caged in darkness!
I went, however, for a moment, into the Amphitheatre, by a little
side-way, where admission was cheaply obtained. Here, as yet, all things
were in order, for the hour had not yet come for giving the wild beasts
entrance to the huge dens prepared for them. A few carpenters only were
seen in one corner, erecting a sort of low stage, and singing merrily, of
whom, when I made inquiry concerning the purpose of that erection, one of
these fellows also began to jeer; “Whence come you, good sir, that you do
not know a common scaffold when you see it? It is surely not the first
time that a Christian has had his head chopped off in the Flavian?”—“By
Pluto, I am not so sure about that matter,” quoth another. “I don’t know
whether any of the dogs were ever beheaded here or not; if they have been,
I can only say it was better than they deserved.”—“There spoke a true
man,” cries a third. “No, no; keep beheading for Romans—let citizens have
their own. Things are come to a pretty pass, when they shew us nothing but
tigers against tigers. By Jove, I would rather see one of those
misbelieving Atheists set right before the mouth of a true Getulian lion’s
cage, and hear his bones cracked ere all be over,—I say, I would rather
see that, than fifty of your mere beast fights.”—“After all,” rejoined the
first, “it must be allowed that our Cæsar had a fine eye for the
Amphitheatre.”—“Who doubts it?” says the other. “Rome has never seen any
thing that deserved to be called a show, since he was killed by sneaking
traitors. They say, Nero was still better at that sort of work; but ‘let
the skinless Jew believe,’ as the saying is. I desire to see no better
sport than Domitian gave us the very week before his death. We shall never
live to see his like again!”—“Come, boys,” rejoins one of the rest; “no
despairing! I had begun to think that these good princes, as they call
them, would never shew us a bit of real sport again. Here, now, is at
least something. Who can tell what may follow? and, besides, if the worst
come to the worst, we shall still have lions against lions, tigers against
tigers, Dacians against Dacians, and now and then a Jew or a Christian, or
whatever you please to call him, exhibited _solus_ on such a stage as
this. Come, come, don’t make matters worse than they are.”
The ruffians shewed that they knew well enough I was displeased, and I
half regretted, as I strode away from them, the want of that Prætorian
helmet, which would have preserved me from the insolence of their mirth.
However, I was well pleased to gain a distance at which I could no longer
be troubled with them, and walked with rapid steps along the wide streets,
over which morning was now beginning to shine; while the air, agitated
with a quick breeze, refreshed my cheeks and temples—of which I had need,
being heated with the glare and noise, and, perhaps, faint, too, after the
manner of the young, from want of sleep.
I was admitted into the house by Dromo, who seemed to have been looking
out for me; for he opened the door almost before I had time to knock at
it. He regarded me as I entered with a very cunning face; insomuch, that I
comprehended without difficulty, he believed me to have spent the night in
some scene of debauch; but he, nevertheless, attended me, without saying a
word, into my chamber. He then assumed a countenance of great reflection,
and advised me, with much appearance of friendly concern, to go to bed,
even although I could not stay long there; “because,” said he, “you will
feel much fresher when you get up; and let me tell you, you must be up
early, for I have already been with Licinius, who intends to send Sextus
with a present to Rubellia immediately after breakfast; and you may be
sure he will insist on your company, for he can do nothing without you.
Ah! had it not been for a certain pretty creature, the young gentleman
would not, I am confident, have permitted you to be going the rounds in
this way by yourself. But I take it something amiss, and shall tell him
so, that he did not depute me (who am not particularly enamoured just at
present) to go with you, and take care of your safety. I only wonder how
you have got home so well as it is.”—“Indeed,” said I, “good Dromo, I
cannot help wondering a little at that myself—for I have been all through
the city, and lost my way half-a-dozen times over, and yet here you see I
am.”—“The more reason,” quoth the slave, “that you should send some little
offering to Mercury’s Temple over the way, in the morning—a few sesterces
will be sufficient—and if you have no objections, I shall willingly take
care of them for you. Mercury is the guardian of all that travel about in
the dark; and besides, he is the special patron of love expeditions. But
to say the truth, you are not the only person that owes a gift to that
shrine; for the worthy sage—Xerophrastes—he, too, has been a
night-wanderer—and he has not yet come in. I have my doubts whether, when
he does so, he will be as sober as you are; but I must take care to be at
my post, and admit him in silence, for the time is not yet come to uncloak
his doings. Trust me, this is not the only vagary I have set down to his
account—all in good time. But what says my master Valerius, touching the
offering to the great God Hermes?”
I saw, by the knave’s face, that it was necessary the sesterces should be
forthcoming. “Here they are,” said I, “good Dromo; and remember, that
although Mercury, among other things, is the god of thieves also, he will
not be well pleased if you curtail his offering.” “Never mind,” answered
the varlet, as he was shuffling out of the room, “Mercury and I understand
each other of old. Go to bed, and try to get a little of your own old
British red into your cheeks again; for Licinius has a hawk’s eye, and
will be sure to have his suspicions, if he sees you come down with such a
haggard look. Remember you have not a beard to cover half your face, and
all your iniquities.”
So saying, he left me to my couch, indeed, but not to slumber; for busy
thoughts kept me broad awake, till, after the lapse of perhaps an hour,
young Sextus entered my apartment, already arrayed with more than usual
elegance, to execute, however unwillingly, the message of his father. He
had in his hand a small casket of open ivory-work, which he flung down on
my bed, saying, “Get up, dear Valerius, and save me at least from the pain
of going alone with these gewgaws. Would to Heaven my father would marry
her himself, and then I should have no objection to carry as many caskets
as he pleases. But do you get up and assist me; and as we go along, you
shall tell me what you have seen and heard in company with your jovial
Prætorian.”
I was soon ready, and ascended, along with my young friend, the chariot
which Licinius had commanded to be ready. I told him, as we glided through
the streets, as much as I judged expedient; and, in particular, when I
perceived that our charioteer was making a circuit, in order to avoid the
neighbourhood of the Amphitheatre, I could not help expressing to him the
effect which had been produced in my mind, by my casual inspection of the
preparations. “I am afraid, then,” said he, “that you will scarcely be
willing to witness the exhibition itself; and yet I would fain have you to
overcome your aversion, both because, whatever you may think of such
things, it is not fitting that you should go from Rome without once, at
least, seeing how they are conducted; and more particularly, because I
much suspect Rubellia intends to be present at the festival—in which case
I should be sorry to be compelled to attend upon her without you; and as
to leaving her at the gate of the Amphitheatre, that, you know, would be
quite impossible, unless I wished openly to contradict the wishes of my
father.”
I assured him he should not want any comfort my presence could afford him;
although not without, at the same time, expressing my astonishment that he
should consider it at all probable that his dainty Rubellia would choose
to sit among the spectators of an exhibition so abounding in circumstances
of cruelty, and, as I had understood, forbidden to her sex. “Nay,”
answered he, “laws and edicts are made to be broken in such cases; and as
for the cruelty of the scene, there is scarcely a lady in Rome that would
be more scrupulous on that head than my widow. To tell you the truth, one
of the things that makes me most unwilling to go, is the fear that
Sempronia also may be there; and, perhaps, when she sees me with Rubellia,
give credence to some of the reports which have been circulated (not
without my father’s assent, I think, if all were known,) about this odious
marriage, which I swear to you shall never take place, although Licinius
were to drive me from his door, and adopt a stranger.”—“Sextus,” I made
answer, “if Sempronia thinks there is any thing serious between the widow
and you, she must think you a pretty rascal, for the violent love you made
to herself at the Villa. But I am sure she will easily perceive, by your
countenance, that you do not regard Rubellia, handsome as she is, with any
extraordinary admiration; whereas—if you were not conscious of it, I am
sure she must have been so—there was never a face of more passionate love
than yours, all the time you were in _her_ company. And, even now, the
very mention of her name calls a glow into your cheeks,—yes, and even into
your eyes,—that I think would flatter Rubellia, could she excite such
another, more than all the jewels of all the caskets your father will ever
send.”—“Distract me not, O Valerius!” said the youth,—“distract me not
with speaking of that too lovely, and, I fear, too scornful girl. Do you
not perceive that we have at last struck into the Suburra, and are quite
near to Rubellia’s house?”—“It is so,” said I, looking out of the
carriage, “and I suspect you are right in thinking she means to be present
at the Amphitheatre, for there is a crowd of urchins about her gate, and I
perceive a brilliant group of equipages has attracted them. She purposes
to go in all her splendour.”—“Good Heavens!” replied he, “I believe all
the world is to be there. I never passed so many chariots; and as for the
rabble, see what a stream of heads continues pouring down out of every
alley. My only hope is, that Rubellia may arrive too late for the best
situations, and perhaps disdain to witness the spectacle from any inferior
part of the Amphitheatre; and yet she must have interest, no doubt, to
have secured good accommodation beforehand.”
We were just in time to meet Rubellia stepping from her portico with a gay
cluster of attendants. On seeing us, however, she beckoned with her
finger, and said, “Oh, are you come at last? Well, I must take Valerius
with myself, for I insist upon it that I shall be best able to point out
what is worthy of his notice; and you, Sextus Licinius, come you also into
my chariot; we will not separate you from your Orestes.” She said so with
an air of sprightly ease and indifference, and sprung into the carriage.
An elderly lady, with a broad merry face, went into it also, but there was
still room for Sextus and myself; and the rest of the party followed in
other vehicles that were waiting.
The crowd by this time had so accumulated, that our horses could not
advance but at leisurely pace; but the noise of the multitude as they
rushed along, and the tumult of expectation visible on every countenance,
prevented us from thinking of any thing but the festival. The variety,
however, and great splendour of the equipages, could not but attract my
attention. Now it was an open chariot, drawn by milk-white Thessalian
horses, in which reclined some gorgeous female, blazing with jewellery,
with a cluster of beautiful boys or girls administering odours to her
nostril; and perhaps some haughty Knight or Senator now and then offering
the refreshment of his flattery. Then, perhaps, would come rumbling along,
a close clumsy waggon, of the old-fashioned matronly sort, stuck full with
some substantial plebeian family—the fat, comfortable-looking citizen, and
his demure spouse, sitting well back on their cushions, and having their
knees loaded with an exulting progeny of lads and lasses, whose faces
would, every now and then, be thrust half out of the window, in spite of
the mother’s tugging at their skirts. And then, again, a cry of “Place,
place,” and a group of lictors, shoving every body aside with their rods,
before the litter of some dignified magistrate, who, from pride or gout,
preferred that species of motion to the jolting of a chariot. Such a
portly person as this would soon be hurried past us, but not before we had
time to observe the richness of the silken cushions on which he lay
extended, or the air of majesty with which he submitted himself to the fan
of the favoured freedman, whose business it was to keep those
authoritative cheeks free from the contamination of common dust and flies.
Anon, a jolly band of young gallants, pushing their steeds along, to not a
few of whom the fair Rubellia would vouchsafe her salutation. But wherever
the carriage was stopped for an instant, it was wonderful to see the
number of old emaciated men, and withered hags, that would make their way
close up to the windows, imploring wherewithal to obtain a morsel. The
widow herself leaned back on these occasions, as if to avoid the sight;
but she pointed to a bag of small coin that hung in a corner of the
chariot, and from it Sextus distributed to the one side, and I to the
other; and yet it was impossible to give to every one; we were surrounded
all the way with a mingled clamour of benedictions from those that had
received, and execrations from those that had got nothing, and noisy
ever-renewed solicitations from that ever-swelling army of mendicants. At
last, however, we arrived in safety at the western gate—the same around
which I had, the night before, witnessed such tumultuous preparation. One
of the officers in waiting there, no sooner descried the equipage, than he
caused a space to be laid open for its approach, and himself advanced to
hand Rubellia into the interior, but she whispered to Sextus and me, by no
means to separate from her in the crowd.
_CHAPTER X._
Behold me, therefore, in the midst of the Flavian Amphitheatre, and
seated, under the wing of the luxurious Rubellia, in a very convenient
situation. There was a general silence in the place, because proclamation
had just been made that the gladiators, with whose combats the exhibition
was to commence, were about to enter upon the arena, and shew themselves
in order to the people. As yet, however, they had not come forth from that
place of concealment to which so many of their number would never return;
so that I had leisure to collect my thoughts, and survey for a moment,
without disturbance, the mighty and most motley multitude, piled above,
below, and on every side around me, from the lordly senators, on their
silken couches, along the parapet of the arena, up to the impenetrable
mass of plebeian heads which skirted the horizon, above the topmost wall
of the Amphitheatre itself. Such was the enormous crowd of human beings,
high and low, that when any motion went through their assembly, the noise
of their rising up or sitting down might be likened to the sullen roaring
of the sea, or the rushing of a great night-wind in a forest. Not less
than eighty thousand human beings, they told me, were here met together.
Such a multitude could no where be regarded, without inspiring a certain
indefinable sense of majesty; least of all, when congregated within the
wide sweep of such a glorious edifice, and surrounded on all sides with
every circumstance of ornament and splendour, befitting an everlasting
monument of Roman victory and imperial munificence. Judge, then, with what
eyes all this was surveyed by me, who had but of yesterday emerged from a
British valley—who had been accustomed all my life to consider as among
the most impressive of spectacles, the casual passage of a few scores of
legionaries through some dark alley of a wood, or awe-struck village of
barbarians.
Trajan himself was already present—his ivory chair distinguished only by
its canopy from that of the other Consul who sate over against him; tall
and majestic in his demeanour; grave, sedate, and benign in countenance,
as you have seen in his medals and statues. He was arrayed in a plain
gown, and appeared to converse quite familiarly, without affectation of
condescension, with such Patricians as had their places near him; among
whom Sextus and Rubellia pointed out many remarkable personages to my
notice; as Adrian, afterwards emperor; Pliny, the orator, a man of courtly
presence, and lively, agreeable aspect; and, above all, the historian
Tacitus, the worthy son-in-law of our Agricola, in whose pallid
countenance I could easily recognize the depth, but sought in vain to
discover any traces of the sternness of his genius. Of all the then proud
names that were whispered into my ear, could I recollect or repeat them
now, how few would awaken any interest in your minds! Those, indeed, which
I have mentioned, have an interest that will never die. Would that the
greatest and the best of them all were to be remembered only for deeds of
greatness and goodness!
The proclamation being repeated a second time, a door on the right hand of
the arena was laid open, and a single trumpet sounded, as it seemed to me,
mournfully, while the gladiators marched in with slow steps, each
man—naked, except being girt with a cloth about his loins—bearing on his
left arm a small buckler, and having a short straight sword suspended by a
cord around his neck. They marched, as I have said, slowly and steadily;
so that the whole assembly had full leisure to contemplate the forms of
the men; while those skilled in such business were fixing, in their own
minds, on such as they thought most likely to be victorious, and laying
wagers concerning their chances of success, with as much unconcern as if
they had been contemplating irrational animals, or rather, indeed, I
should say, so many pieces of ingenious mechanism. The diversity of
complexion and feature exhibited among these devoted athletes, afforded at
once a majestic idea of the extent of the empire, and a terrible one of
the purposes to which that wide sway had often been made subservient. The
beautiful Greek, with a countenance of noble serenity, and limbs after
which the sculptors of his country might have modelled their symbols of
graceful power, walked side by side with the yellow-bearded savage, whose
gigantic muscles had been nerved in the freezing waves of the Elbe or
Ister, or whose thick strong hair was congealed and shagged on his brow
with the breath of Scythian or Scandinavian winters. Many fierce Moors and
Arabs, and curled Ethiopians, were there, with the beams of the southern
sun burnt in every various shade of swarthiness upon their skins. Nor did
our own remote island want her representatives in the deadly procession,
for I saw among the armed multitude—not surely without some feelings of
more peculiar interest—two or three gaunt barbarians, whose breasts and
shoulders bore uncouth marks of blue and purple, so vivid in the tints,
that I thought many months could not have elapsed since they must have
been wandering in wild freedom along the native ridges of some Silurian or
Caledonian forest. As they moved around the arena, some of these men were
saluted by the whole multitude with noisy acclamations, in token, I
suppose, of the approbation wherewith the feats of some former festival
had deserved to be remembered. On the appearance of others, groans and
hisses were heard from some parts of the Amphitheatre, mixed with
contending cheers and huzzas from others of the spectators. But by far the
greater part were suffered to pass on in silence;—this being in all
likelihood the first—who could tell whether it might not also be the last
day of their sharing in that fearful exhibition!