Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero
I say what I think! I have preserved loftiness, however, because I know
what is deformed and what is beautiful; but our poet, Bronzebeard, for
example, the charioteer, the singer, the actor, does not understand
this.”
“I am sorry, however, for Fabricius! He is a good companion.”
“Vanity ruined the man. Every one suspected him, no one knew certainly;
but he could not contain himself, and told the secret on all sides in
confidence. Hast heard the history of Rufinus?”
“No.”
“Then come to the frigidarium to cool; there I will tell thee.”
They passed to the frigidarium, in the middle of which played a fountain
of bright rose-color, emitting the odor of violets. There they sat in
niches which were covered with velvet, and began to cool themselves.
Silence reigned for a time. Vinicius looked awhile thoughtfully at a
bronze faun which, bending over the arm of a nymph, was seeking her lips
eagerly with his lips.
“He is right,” said the young man. “That is what is best in life.”
“More or less! But besides this thou lovest war, for which I have no
liking, since under tents one’s finger-nails break and cease to be rosy.
For that matter, every man has his preferences. Bronzebeard loves song,
especially his own; and old Scaurus his Corinthian vase, which stands
near his bed at night, and which he kisses when he cannot sleep. He has
kissed the edge off already. Tell me, dost thou not write verses?”
“No; I have never composed a single hexameter.”
“And dost thou not play on the lute and sing?”
“No.”
“And dost thou drive a chariot?”
“I tried once in Antioch, but unsuccessfully.”
“Then I am at rest concerning thee. And to what party in the hippodrome
dost thou belong?”
“To the Greens.”
“Now I am perfectly at rest, especially since thou hast a large property
indeed, though thou art not so rich as Pallas or Seneca. For seest thou,
with us at present it is well to write verses, to sing to a lute, to
declaim, and to compete in the Circus; but better, and especially safer,
not to write verses, not to play, not to sing, and not to compete in
the Circus. Best of all, is it to know how to admire when Bronzebeard
admires. Thou art a comely young man; hence Poppæa may fall in love with
thee. This is thy only peril. But no, she is too experienced; she cares
for something else. She has had enough of love with her two husbands;
with the third she has other views. Dost thou know that that stupid
Otho loves her yet to distraction? He walks on the cliffs of Spain, and
sighs; he has so lost his former habits, and so ceased to care for his
person, that three hours each day suffice him to dress his hair. Who
could have expected this of Otho?”
“I understand him,” answered Vinicius; “but in his place I should have
done something else.”
“What, namely?”
“I should have enrolled faithful legions of mountaineers of that
country. They are good soldiers,--those Iberians.”
“Vinicius! Vinicius! I almost wish to tell thee that thou wouldst not
have been capable of that. And knowest why? Such things are done, but
they are not mentioned even conditionally. As to me, in his place, I
should have laughed at Poppæa, laughed at Bronzebeard, and formed for
myself legions, not of Iberian men, however, but Iberian women. And what
is more, I should have written epigrams which I should not have read to
any one,--not like that poor Rufinus.”
“Thou wert to tell me his history.”
“I will tell it in the unctorium.”
But in the unctorium the attention of Vinicius was turned to other
objects; namely, to wonderful slave women who were waiting for the
bathers. Two of them, Africans, resembling noble statues of ebony,
began to anoint their bodies with delicate perfumes from Arabia; others,
Phrygians, skilled in hairdressing, held in their hands, which were
bending and flexible as serpents, combs and mirrors of polished steel;
two Grecian maidens from Kos, who were simply like deities, waited as
vestiplicæ, till the moment should come to put statuesque folds in the
togas of the lords.
“By the cloud-scattering Zeus!” said Marcus Vinicius, “what a choice
thou hast!”
“I prefer choice to numbers,” answered Petronius. “My whole ‘familia’
[household servants] in Rome does not exceed four hundred, and I judge
that for personal attendance only upstarts need a greater number of
people.”
“More beautiful bodies even Bronzebeard does not possess,” said
Vinicius, distending his nostrils.
“Thou art my relative,” answered Petronius, with a certain friendly
indifference, “and I am neither so misanthropic as Barsus nor such a
pedant as Aulus Plautius.”
When Vinicius heard this last name, he forgot the maidens from Kos for a
moment, and, raising his head vivaciously, inquired,--“Whence did Aulus
Plautius come to thy mind? Dost thou know that after I had disjointed
my arm outside the city, I passed a number of days in his house? It
happened that Plautius came up at the moment when the accident happened,
and, seeing that I was suffering greatly, he took me to his house; there
a slave of his, the physician Merion, restored me to health. I wished to
speak with thee touching this very matter.”
“Why? Is it because thou hast fallen in love with Pomponia perchance? In
that case I pity thee; she is not young, and she is virtuous! I cannot
imagine a worse combination. Brr!”
“Not with Pomponia--eheu!” answered Vinicius.
“With whom, then?”
“If I knew myself with whom? But I do not know to a certainty her name
even,--Lygia or Callina? They call her Lygia in the house, for she comes
of the Lygian nation; but she has her own barbarian name, Callina. It is
a wonderful house,--that of those Plautiuses. There are many people in
it; but it is quiet there as in the groves of Subiacum. For a number
of days I did not know that a divinity dwelt in the house. Once about
daybreak I saw her bathing in the garden fountain; and I swear to thee
by that foam from which Aphrodite rose, that the rays of the dawn passed
right through her body. I thought that when the sun rose she would
vanish before me in the light, as the twilight of morning does. Since
then, I have seen her twice; and since then, too, I know not what rest
is, I know not what other desires are, I have no wish to know what the
city can give me. I want neither women, nor gold, nor Corinthian bronze,
nor amber, nor pearls, nor wine, nor feasts; I want only Lygia. I am
yearning for her, in sincerity I tell thee, Petronius, as that Dream who
is imaged on the Mosaic of thy tepidarium yearned for Paisythea,--whole
days and night do I yearn.”
“If she is a slave, then purchase her.”
“She is not a slave.”
“What is she? A freed woman of Plautius?”
“Never having been a slave, she could not be a freed woman.”
“Who is she?”
“I know not,--a king’s daughter, or something of that sort.”
“Thou dost rouse my curiosity, Vinicius.”
“But if thou wish to listen, I will satisfy thy curiosity straightway.
Her story is not a long one. Thou art acquainted, perhaps personally,
with Vannius, king of the Suevi, who, expelled from his country, spent a
long time here in Rome, and became even famous for his skilful play with
dice, and his good driving of chariots. Drusus put him on the throne
again. Vannius, who was really a strong man, ruled well at first, and
warred with success; afterward, however, he began to skin not only his
neighbors, but his own Suevi, too much. Thereupon Vangio and Sido, two
sister’s sons of his, and the sons of Vibilius, king of the Hermunduri,
determined to force him to Rome again--to try his luck there at dice.”
“I remember; that is of recent Claudian times.”
“Yes! War broke out. Vannius summoned to his aid the Yazygi; his dear
nephews called in the Lygians, who, hearing of the riches of Vannius,
and enticed by the hope of booty, came in such numbers that Cæsar
himself, Claudius, began to fear for the safety of the boundary.
Claudius did not wish to interfere in a war among barbarians, but he
wrote to Atelius Hister, who commanded the legions of the Danube, to
turn a watchful eye on the course of the war, and not permit them to
disturb our peace. Hister required, then, of the Lygians a promise not
to cross the boundary; to this they not only agreed, but gave hostages,
among whom were the wife and daughter of their leader. It is known to
thee that barbarians take their wives and children to war with them. My
Lygia is the daughter of that leader.”
“Whence dost thou know all this?”
“Aulus Plautius told it himself. The Lygians did not cross the boundary,
indeed; but barbarians come and go like a tempest. So did the Lygians
vanish with their wild-ox horns on their heads. They killed Vannius’s
Suevi and Yazygi; but their own king fell. They disappeared with their
booty then, and the hostages remained in Hister’s hands. The mother died
soon after, and Hister, not knowing what to do with the daughter, sent
her to Pomponius, the governor of all Germany. He, at the close of the
war with the Catti, returned to Rome, where Claudius, as is known to
thee, permitted him to have a triumph. The maiden on that occasion
walked after the car of the conqueror; but, at the end of the
solemnity,--since hostages cannot be considered captives, and since
Pomponius did not know what to do with her definitely--he gave her to
his sister Pomponia Græcina, the wife of Plautius. In that house where
all--beginning with the masters and ending with the poultry in the
hen-house--are virtuous, that maiden grew up as virtuous, alas! as
Græcina herself, and so beautiful that even Poppæa, if near her, would
seem like an autumn fig near an apple of the Hesperides.”
“And what?”
“And I repeat to thee that from the moment when I saw how the
sun-rays at that fountain passed through her body, I fell in love to
distraction.”
“She is as transparent as a lamprey eel, then, or a youthful sardine?”
“Jest not, Petronius; but if the freedom with which I speak of my desire
misleads thee, know this,--that bright garments frequently cover deep
wounds. I must tell thee, too, that, while returning from Asia, I slept
one night in the temple of Mopsus to have a prophetic dream. Well,
Mopsus appeared in a dream to me, and declared that, through love, a
great change in my life would take place.”
“Pliny declares, as I hear, that he does not believe in the gods, but he
believes in dreams; and perhaps he is right. My jests do not prevent me
from thinking at times that in truth there is only one deity, eternal,
creative, all-powerful, Venus Genetrix. She brings souls together; she
unites bodies and things. Eros called the world out of chaos. Whether he
did well is another question; but, since he did so, we should recognize
his might, though we are free not to bless it.”
“Alas! Petronius, it is easier to find philosophy in the world than wise
counsel.”
“Tell me, what is thy wish specially?”
“I wish to have Lygia. I wish that these arms of mine, which now embrace
only air, might embrace Lygia and press her to my bosom. I wish to
breathe with her breath. Were she a slave, I would give Aulus for her
one hundred maidens with feet whitened with lime as a sign that they
were exhibited on sale for the first time. I wish to have her in my
house till my head is as white as the top of Soracte in winter.”
“She is not a slave, but she belongs to the ‘family’ of Plautius; and
since she is a deserted maiden, she may be considered an ‘alumna.’
Plautius might yield her to thee if he wished.”
“Then it seems that thou knowest not Pomponia Græcina. Both have become
as much attached to her as if she were their own daughter.”
“Pomponia I know,--a real cypress. If she were not the wife of Aulus,
she might be engaged as a mourner. Since the death of Julius she has