CHAPTER XVI.

Quintus rose very early the morning after his visit to Thrax

Barbatus, and the stars were still sparkling brightly, when he got

into his litter and in a weary voice bid the slaves carry him to the

palace. He almost fell asleep again within the curtains, so coolly

and indifferently could he look forward to his interview with the

awe-inspiring Caesar, who was always treated with a degree of cautious

respect, even by his intimates and favorites--somewhat as a tame tiger

is treated by its keepers. This coolness he derived from a sense of the

justice of his cause; he was still young enough to have preserved that

noble simplicity of a lofty nature, which attributes irresistible power

to Truth, and which cannot use the specious defences, with which vulgar

humanity is content to arm itself.

In the outer court of the palace a tumultuous crowd had already

assembled--of magistrates, senators, and foreign ambassadors. Quintus

gave one of the chamberlains on duty[291] a note from the Flamen Titus

Claudius Mucianus, to deliver to Caesar in his audience chamber,

and so powerful was the effect of this venerated name, that Domitian

granted an immediate interview to the young patrician, in the midst of

the terrific pressure of official receptions.

Quintus entered the presence chamber with a fearless and independent

mien, but with the calm dignity and winning courtliness of the Roman

aristocrat.

“My lord,” he said, as a sign from the emperor bid him speak, “it

is as the son of Titus Claudius, that you have so readily granted

me a hearing, but it is as the future husband of Cornelia, the

niece of Cinna, that I craved an audience. I stand before you as a

petitioner. Cornelius Cinna, the illustrious senator--whose intrinsic

value you must certainly have discerned, even under the husk of some

singularities--is suffering under the sense of an insult, as he deems

it. That midnight banquet, of which all Rome is talking, was of course,

no more than a harmless prelude to the Saturnalia[292]--the overflow

of festive whimsicality. But Cinna, who is rigid and impervious to all

joviality, regards the jest as a humiliation and dishonor. It lies in

your power, my lord, to efface this painful feeling from the noble

senator’s mind. One gracious word of explanation....”

Domitian did not let the bold youth finish his sentence. The mere

mention of the name of Cinna had been enough to set his blood boiling.

And now, what was this audacious, seditious, rebellious suggestion?--If

he still kept some check on his anger, it was that the grave, steadfast

figure of the Flamen floated, unbidden, before his eyes, and compelled

his respect for all who bore his name. Still, the glance he threw at

Quintus out of his cunning green eyes gave grounds for reflection.

“My dear Quintus,” he said with forced composure, “our time is too

precious for such follies. It is not Caesar’s business, either to

console Cinna or to offer him explanations. Remember that. And now

leave us, lest the welfare of the commonwealth should suffer.” With

these words he turned his back on Quintus.

Quintus was speechless; he angrily quitted the audience chamber,

feeling as if every slave must read in his face how insultingly

the emperor had treated him. Incapable from indignation, to judge

accurately and fairly, he felt as a bitter disgrace, what was, in fact,

the inevitable result of a false assumption. Standing apart as he did

from the life of the court, and strongly influenced by his father’s

views, he had always regarded Caesar in too favorable a light; still,

he might have been shrewd and judicious enough, to have understood

the folly and impossibility of his preposterous suggestion; he might

have told himself that, even under the most favorable conditions, only

those, who have sinned unintentionally, ever make advances towards

reconciliation.

From the palace Quintus hastened on foot to his father’s residence,

which lay at no great distance. He desired his clients and slaves

to wait in the vestibule, and went first to the women’s large

sitting-room, where he found his mother and the two girls, with Caius

Aurelius in attendance. The Batavian was holding a book in his left

hand, and with an awkward blush on his face was standing near the

window, while the ladies leaned expectantly on their couches.

A shade of annoyance flitted across Claudia’s brow as her brother

entered the room; the young Northman flushed a shade deeper, and

dropped the hand which held the roll as he, not too warmly, returned

his friend’s greeting.

“I am disturbing a recitation,” said Quintus apologetically.

“Oh! the day is before us!” cried Lucilia, and Octavia asked her son

what had brought him so early to the house.

“Nothing of much importance,” said Quintus vaguely; “a request to my

father. I am only waiting, till the atrium is perfectly clear. Pray go

on reading, Aurelius. I will sit quite still in this corner and listen

for a time. Meanwhile, will Lucilia fetch me a cup of mead[293]; my

tongue is literally parched.”

“‘He spoke, and the dark-browed Kronion nodded assent![294]’” quoted

Lucilia, going to a side door. “Baucis,” she called out, and gave

her orders in a lower voice. Caius Aurelius, obeying Octavia’s glance

of request, had already unrolled the book again, and he now began to

read in a full and pleasant voice. In truth, the much-lauded Papius

Statius might have been satisfied. He himself, a master in the art,

could not have read his own poem better or more effectively. Quintus

was astonished beyond words. What delightful tones, what various

modulation, and above all what supreme intelligence of interpretation!

and though Lucilia now and then struggled with a yawn, it was evidently

from sheer physical fatigue, for it had been past midnight before she

had gone to sleep.

When Aurelius had got to the end of the second _canto_ of the poem,

Quintus drank the remainder of his draught of mead and desired old

Baucis to enquire in the atrium, whether Titus Claudius had not yet

received the last of his morning visitors and, hearing that his father

was alone, he took leave and hastened to the priest’s study. He found

his father deep in work, even at his son’s greeting he only just raised

his head.

“Welcome,” said he without interrupting himself: “One moment,

Quintus--” and his reed[295] went gliding on over the yellow paper.

Then he laid it across a little metal rest and rose.

“You find me dreadfully busy, my dear Quintus,” he said affectionately.

“Hardly am I left apparently in peace, when I am overwhelmed with

a mass of work, that will bear no delay. I must take advantage of

every minute, for a decision on the great question of the day is now

imminent.”

“I am sorry for that, father, for I came to you as a petitioner.”

“Speak on,” said the Flamen smiling. “I must find time for my son.”

“Thank you very much, but I fear that my petition may be too trivial,

to engage your interest at this moment.”

“Nay, so much the better. Small matters need few words. Speak plainly

and at once.”

“You know,” Quintus began, going a step nearer, “that the Empress’s

steward Stephanus is in pursuit of a slave....”

“Yes, I know,” said the priest frowning: “A criminal, who was forcibly

set free by some unknown hand. All Rome is horrified at such unheard-of

atrocity.”

“It is certainly unheard of, that such an attempt should succeed. To

escape in the midst of such a crowd--the cowardly crew of Lycoris’

slaves seemed thunderstruck.”

“Pah! who can say, if they were not concerned in the abominable

conspiracy? My word for it, Quintus, all these villains have a secret

understanding; they wait only for a watchword to rise and strike as

one man, and to overthrow everything we hold sacred. If the state

does not ere long exercise its authority in earnest, we shall have a

Spartacus[296] on the throne of Rome.”

“You are jesting, father. Shall the Roman empire, borne by the eagles

of her legions to the uttermost ends of the earth, the unconquerable

daughter of Ares,[297] tremble before her own slaves?”

“She has trembled before now,” replied Titus Claudius. “Read the

chronicles of the historians. The gladiator, who escaped with a handful

of rabble from the school at Capua, collected an army, before the

Senate had realized the fact. He beat the praetors, he defeated the

quaestor Thoranius, he overran almost a third of the peninsula....”

“Then, and now; think of the difference,” exclaimed Quintus, to whom

the unexpected turn taken by the conversation was most painful. “That

was possible in the time of the Republic, but the strong hand of Caesar

will be able to protect us. Besides, the slaves of our day lack the one

thing needful--the irresistible Spartacus.”

“He will be forthcoming, when the time is ripe. Indeed, from all I

hear, I fancy a candidate for the honor has already been discovered. He

is called Eurymachus.”

“Really?” cried Quintus, who was fast losing all his presence of mind.

“Do you really think....?”

“Yes, my son, I do think.... Does not the very mode of his rescue show

how great and dangerous his personal influence must be? And I hear

on all sides of this man’s defiant tenacity, contempt of suffering,

strength and endurance. It is out of such rough wood as this, that

a Spartacus is hewn. And a Spartacus to-day is more dangerous than

his prototype; he can command a more mischievous force, against which

sword and spear are wielded in vain: that of superstition. I cannot

fail to see this plainly; for years I have watched the tendencies of

the commonalty with all the keenness of suspicion. The creed of the

Nazarenes ferments and spreads--the next Spartacus will be a Christian.”

“Father,” Quintus began after a pause, “I know that in this instance

you are mistaken. This slave--I happen to know certainly--never

conceived such a scheme. Besides, it seems to me, that the acumen of

our statesmen is somewhat at fault, when it makes that sect responsible

for everything that shocks or shakes society....”

“You do not know them,” interrupted his father, “and I do. Enough--we

have digressed. What connection has all this with your request? Speak,

for my time is precious.”

Quintus stood undecided. What could he hope for in this state of

things? Well--he could but try.

“Father,” he began hesitatingly, “I came to speak in behalf of the

very man, whom you are making every effort to brand as a Spartacus. I

saw him two or three times in Baiae; he pleased me greatly, and I then

determined to buy him of Stephanus. Then this most unlucky business

occurred, and I lost the slave whom I had already begun to think of as

my own. When I tell you, that Stephanus deliberately and maliciously

tortured and punished him; when I swear to you solemnly, that the

sentence of death....”

“What do you want?” asked his father coldly; “speak and have done.”

“Well, father; I want to become possessed of that slave at any price,

and I ask you whether, in the event of his being captured, it would not

be possible to mitigate the rigor of the law....”

“You astound me! For a mere whim you would endanger the state, cut a

trench in the dyke which alone is able to protect us against the flood

of rebellion? And you ask me--ME--to be your accomplice in such a

proceeding? I admit, that Stephanus is brutal and tyrannical, nay--from

my point of view--criminal. But then, are there not laws to protect

slaves against such barbarities?”

“Laws, yes--” cried Quintus bitterly “but they do not exist as against

the rich and powerful.”

“Every earthly thing is of its nature imperfect. If Stephanus defies

the law, that does not justify us in leaving the crime of Eurymachus

unpunished. I lament deeply, that my own son should so utterly

misunderstand the first and highest principles of my views of life. Go,

my dear Quintus, and for the future consider twice, before you trouble

your father with such follies. Eurymachus must die by the hand of the

executioner, though you should pledge half your estates to buy him. Go,

my son, and do not altogether forget that you are a Roman.”

Thus speaking, Titus Claudius sat down again to his desk. Quintus stood

for a moment as if in absence of mind; then he slowly went towards the

door.

“Farewell, father,” he said, as he left the room. His voice was sad,

almost gloomy, as though they were parting for a long, sad interval.

Titus Claudius, struck by the strangeness of his tone, raised his head

in astonishment and gazed, like a man waking from a painful dream, at

the door through which Quintus had departed; a vague presentiment fell

on his spirit.

“I was too hard,” he said to himself. “His error springs from a noble

source--from pity. I ought to have said a kind word to him before he

went away,” and he hastily rose from his seat.

“Quintus, Quintus!” he called out into the hall. “Skopas, Athanasius,

did you see my son?”

The slaves flew into the vestibule, but Quintus had long since

disappeared in the bustle of the street. The Flamen returned to his

sitting-room, oppressed with melancholy foreboding.

“I will tell him the very next time I see him.--He has the best

and truest heart that ever beat, and the noblest souls are easiest

wounded.--However, away with such thoughts now, and to work once more.”

Titus Claudius sat down again and bent over his table and, as he sat

there, he might have been taken for a poet in the act of composition,

for his fine face glowed with eager inspiration. But the words he wrote

were not those which enchant the populace, but the eloquent flow of a

mighty impeachment; what he was forging were not lines and verses, but

terrific weapons against what he believed to be the most threatening

foe of the Roman Empire; against Christianity.[298]

FOOTNOTES:

[291] THE CHAMBERLAINS ON DUTY. At the emperor’s formal morning

reception a large number of court officials was present, to

maintain order, announce those who were awaiting admission and

accompany them into the hall of audience. These persons were

called _admissionales_ (admitters) or people _ab admissione,

ex officio admissionis_ etc. (See Suet, _Vesp._ 14, etc.)

[292] SATURNALIA. A name given to a festival held for several days

in the latter part of the month of December, in honor of the

old Italian god of the harvest, Saturnus. It resembled in some

respects our Christmas festivities, in others the carnival

gayeties. The Saturnalia commemorated the happy age of

Saturnus. All work ceased. Our “Happy New Year!” or the cry:

“Fool, let the fool out!” had their counterpart in the shouts

echoing on all sides: “_Io saturnalia! Io bona saturnalia!_”

People caroused, feasted and gambled; pleased each other

with gifts and surprises. The slaves were admitted to table,

in token, that under the rule of Saturnus there had been no

distinction of rank; all sorts of jests and amusements were

practised, and a certain liberty of word and deed everywhere

prevailed.

[293] MEAD (Mulsum, _scil._ vinum) prepared from cider and honey, a

favorite drink, especially at the prandium.

[294] HE SPOKE, AND THE DARK-BROWED KRONION NODDED ASSENT. In these

words Lucilia quotes a well-known line of the Iliad (Il. I.

528.)

Ἡ, καὶ κυανέησιν ἐπ’ ὀφρύσι νεῦσε Κρονίων.

How customary such quotations were--not only in Latin

translations, but in the original language--appears in Pliny’s

letters, for instance, I, 24, where in two different passages

lines from the Iliad are quoted, among them the one mentioned

here, also in I, 18, (farther below in the same letter) I,

20, (several times;) IV, 28; V. 19; V, 96. Elsewhere in Pliny

numerous Greek words and phrases are found in the Latin text

(see _Ep._ I, 13, 19, 20; II, 2, 3, 12, 13, 14, 20; IV, 10;

VI, 32, etc.) as in our own times a French, English, or Latin

phrase occurs in a German letter. Every cultivated person

understood Greek; nay, the preference for this language had

become a fashionable mania, just as in the last century there

was a craze for French in Germany. (See Juv. _Sat._, VI, 185:

_omnia Graece_. Everything is Greek!)

[295] REED. A pen made from a reed, cut in the same manner as our

goose quills, was often used for writing.

[296] SPARTACUS. The terrible insurrection of the slaves under

Spartacus failed only on account of the want of harmony among

the rebels. This insurrection, 71 B.C. was conquered with the

utmost difficulty. Spartacus, after a famous battle, fell with

his ablest comrades.

[297] DAUGHTER OF ARES. A name given to Rome in consequence of

the well-known legend, that Romulus and Remus were sons of

the war-god Mars and the vestal virgin Rhea Silvia. Quintus

here uses the Hellenic name Ares, as the words Ῥώμη θυγάτηρ

Ἄρεος which occur in the first verse of a celebrated ode by

the Greek poetess Melinno (600 B.C.) flitted before his mind.

[298] AGAINST CHRISTIANITY. Concerning the persecutions of the

Christians under Domitian, see Dio Cass. XLVII, 16.