CHAPTER XVII.

When Caius Aurelius had finished the fourth canto of the Thebais,

Octavia put an end to the reading; breakfast was waiting in the little

dining-room. The young man was invited to join them, and they passed a

pleasant hour over the meal. They were all accustomed to their father’s

absence, for business had lately so completely absorbed him, that he

would hardly give himself time to drink a glass of Falernian, as he

sat at work, or to snatch a morsel of food. Octavia lamented it, but,

on the other hand, she was proud of it as well; she rejoiced too in

the confident anticipation of a long period of rest and enjoyment to

succeed this last great effort. Lucilia found dinner without him very

dull, as she took an opportunity of whispering very pointedly to her

sister. This was, in fact, rather strange, for Aurelius, whose tongue

seemed to have been loosed by the reading of the heroic poem, displayed

the greatest aptitude for all the accomplishments of social life. The

triclinium positively sparkled with good humor, even Lucilia belied

herself, for more than once she broke out into a merry laugh, the

very reverse of dull. Herodianus, who had come to escort his master

home, and who had the honor of being invited to share the meal, was

astonished at the brilliancy of the young man, who was usually so

silent and glanced suspiciously at the crystal cup, as if that might be

accountable for so strange a phenomenon. And Baucis swore by the great

Isis, that never in her life had she known a Roman knight with such

delightful qualities as Aurelius, who had a kind word even for her, a

stupid old woman, and who read poetry so divinely.

The Batavian took his leave about mid-day; he sent his respectful

greetings through Octavia to the master of the house, fearing to

disturb so busy a personage at this hour of the day.

“And what next?” cried Lucilia, as the door closed upon Aurelius.

“Shall we lie down to sleep, sweet Claudia, or order the litter to go

to the Campus Martius?”[299]

“Just which you please. The day is fine, and we might walk for an hour

under the colonnade of Agrippa.”[300]

“Will you come with us, dear mother?” asked Lucilia.

“How can I,” said Octavia smiling. “I must be on the spot, when your

father leaves his work. If you are not content to go alone, Baucis

may....”

“Oh no, no!” interrupted Claudia. “The worthy Baucis may remain at

home. When we get into the laurel groves[301] we shall walk, and Baucis

is so slow that she would be a hindrance.”

The litter was soon ready. Four Numidians, with waving feathers in

their heads, marched in front, and they proceeded northwards, by the

same way which Quintus had taken two days since, in the moonless night.

“I am glad that we left Baucis at home,” said Claudia in Greek. “We can

talk undisturbed for once. You are so dreadfully sleepy, when we go to

bed....”

“And with good reason,” replied Lucilia, also in Greek. “I am tired

out and over-excited. The amusements of the last few days are telling

on my nerves. First, there was the evening at Cornelia’s; then a

recitation for two hours from the charming Claudia on the merits of

Caius Aurelius....”

“I beg your pardon, but you are reversing the position. It was mistress

Lucilia, who went on talking about Caius Afranius.”

“Indeed! and why? Simply and solely as a counterpoise, an antidote to

Aurelius. Besides, with your kind permission, his name is not Caius,

but Cneius Afranius. Of course, you have nothing but Caius running in

your head.”

“That is just like you now,” said Claudia with a sigh. “Lately there

has been no speaking a rational word to you.”

“I am over-tired,” Lucilia repeated. “Two cantos of Statius yesterday

morning, two more again this morning; to-morrow, two cantos of Statius,

that involves a fourth! It is a mercy, that the Thebais consists only

of twelve altogether, so it must come to an end at last! Certainly,

when we have done Statius, he might read us Virgil[302] and afterwards

the Battle of the Frogs and Mice.”[303]

“Go, Lucilia--you are quite odious--and I wanted to confess something

to you.”

“A confession? my darling Claudia, a confession?” cried Lucilia,

seizing her sister’s hand. “Will you own at last that you love him?

That you are a perfect fool about him? Oh! silly child! did you not

perceive, that I only wanted to punish you for trying to deceive me?”

Claudia colored deeply, and involuntarily drew the embroidered curtain,

as if she feared that the litter-bearers might read her secret in her

face.

“Not so loud!” she whispered, and then she softly kissed her cheek.

“You confess?” asked Lucilia. But the only answer was a closer caress

and a fervent kiss on her lips.

“That is enough,” said Lucilia. “Your kiss says everything. No girl

gives such a kiss as that, who is not desperately in love. It was meant

for Caius Aurelius.”

“Hush!” Claudia entreated, laying her hand on the audacious girl’s

mouth. “Promise me....”

“Not to mount the rostra[304] and proclaim in the Forum: Claudia is

in love with Aurelius!...? You little fool! Just the reverse; I will

keep it a dead secret, and do all I can to clear the road for you. For

things will not run so smoothly as you think. A mere provincial knight,

and Claudia, the daughter of the first senatorial house in Rome! You

cannot take it ill in your father if he maintains the rights of his

position, and intends his daughter to marry a consul.”[305]

“But if his daughter objects?”

“Then Titus Claudius must give way, or the gentle Claudia is not

incapable of running away with Caius Aurelius.”

“What are you saying!” exclaimed Claudia horrified. Then she sat

looking thoughtfully into her lap.

“Do you suppose,” she said presently, “that his allusion, yesterday, to

Sextus Furius was meant seriously?”

“What else could it mean? The worthy man is three times too old for

you, to be sure, but the names of his ancestors have been splendid for

centuries. Only think of Furius Camillus, the glorious conqueror of the

Volscians and Aequians. Sextus Furius, to be sure, has conquered no

insurgent nations, but the consulate undoubtedly lies before him, and

his wealth is enormous.”

“Ah!” sighed Claudia. “We Roman girls have a bad time of it. How rarely

do we have a free choice in the tie which lasts one’s life-long! A

stern father or guardian brings a husband on the scene, before our

hearts have a chance of deciding. Such a betrothal as that of Quintus

and Cornelia is as rare as a white raven. How beautiful, how honest

by comparison is the custom in the North, where the lover first

wins the affection of a girl, and then seeks the approval of her

parents. Aurelius has told me wonderful stories of the fidelity of the

tawny-haired Rugian to the wife of his choice, and of how the treasure

is often won in fights to the death, after years of constancy. It must

be glorious to be loved and wooed in that northern fashion! Do you know

that Aurelius has some Germanic blood in his veins...?”

“Indeed?” said Lucilia surprised.

“Yes, really. His grandmother was a Frisian, from the shores of the

Baltic, where the Weser falls into the sea. There are large and wealthy

families among them, valiant warriors and chiefs, who will bow their

necks to no Roman consul. If only they were of one mind, Aurelius says,

Rome herself might tremble before these tribes. But, strangely enough,

though in their family life they are so loving and constant, their

feuds are perennial, tribe against tribe and prince against prince. It

is only under stress of imminent peril, that they league themselves

under one banner, and woe then to the foe they turn upon! You have read

of Varus[306] and how his legions were cut to pieces in the Saltus

Teutoburgiensis, while he fell on his own sword?”

“Yes, Baucis has told us the story. But after all--who cares what

goes on in Germania!--our legions are constantly engaged in fighting

on the frontier, now against the Dacians and now against the

Parthians[307]--I do not trouble myself about the where and the why.

Moral struggles, the battles we must fight at home, interest me far

more....”

“Particularly the law pleadings in the Senate, and before the court of

the Centumvirate!” said Claudia smiling.

“Certainly! out there, brute force decides the matter, but in the Forum

it is superior intellect that wins the day.”

“And one of the boldest champions is Cneius Afranius.”

“It is quite true; his whole individuality, his undaunted honesty, his

unfailing energy....”

“Hey day! what eloquence. Before long we shall see you in the Basilica

among the candidates for applause.”

“Laugh away, by all means! I assert my right and liberty to admire all

that is noble. If I were better looking, I should very likely exert

myself to achieve a conquest, for I frankly confess that I regard the

future wife of Afranius as a woman to be envied.”

“You are frank indeed.”

“I always am. And I find it all the easier, since I do not allow my

consciousness of my defects to destroy my peace of mind. The Gods

are unjust? For aught I care! You have a mouth like a rose-bud, I

have a muzzle like a Cantabrian bear![308] Fate we call that, or

Ananke![309]--Well, it is a lovely day for us both alike! Just see

what a crowd and bustle there are out here; I think we had better walk.

There is the portico with its hundred columns.”

Claudia stopped the bearers, and the two girls walked on to the

magnificent hall of Agrippa, followed at a short distance by the

Numidian slaves. Arm in arm they walked along the arcades, by the

famous mural paintings,[310] representing in the highest style of art,

scenes from the stories of the Greek divinities--the rape of Europa,

Cheiron the Centaur, and the voyage of the Argonauts. To the right they

saw the marble enclosures--Septa[311] they were called--in the midst

of which the Roman people assembled when the centuria[312] were called

upon to vote. Lucilia hoped she might one day be present at some stormy

debate here. Claudia found it more interesting, to linger over the gay

booths[313] and bazaar for luxurious trifles at the northern end of the

portico, where the precious produce of the remotest provinces of the

empire was displayed.

Thus, chatting and laughing, they reached the shady avenues of plane

and laurel, which extended almost to the shores of the river and, with

their temples, columns, terraces and works of art, were the scene of

enjoyment for a numerous throng of citizens. Here hundreds of handsome

chariots--most of them with two wheels--rushed to and fro on a broad

causeway; graceful horsemen dashed along the gravelled way, while the

motley crowd of pedestrians slowly loitered along the side alleys.

Here a following of young men pressed round the litter of some woman

of rank; there a grave and morose-looking pedagogue led his flock

to a grass-plot, where boys were exercising themselves in wrestling

or throwing the discus.[314] Pairs of lovers strolled away hand in

hand to remoter bowers; slaves--male and female--with their owners’

children, crowded round a juggler’s booth, applauding the skill with

which Masthlion[315] balanced a heavy pole on his bare forehead, or

the strength Ninus[316] displayed in supporting half a dozen boys

upon his shoulders. Among the mob a legion of fruit and cake sellers

wriggled and squeezed themselves; fortune-tellers twitched at the robe

of the passer-by, urgently pressing their services on them; shipwrecked

sailors sat begging by the wayside, with tablets on their knees[317]

relating the history of their woes; flute-players piped their latest

tunes from Gades; dark Egyptians exhibited tame snakes, which twined

round the body, neck and arms of the owner to the measure of a dismal

tom-tom.

Lucilia and Claudia followed the shady alley, that ran parallel to the

main road, greatly amused at the dazzling, noisy and ever-new scenes

that met them at every turn.

“Supposing we should meet your Aurelius--” said Lucilia.

“My Aurelius! My sweet child, pray do not get into the habit of saying

such things.”

“Well, then--Caius Aurelius.”

“It is not likely. He rarely comes now to the plain of Mars.”

“Indeed. What has he to attend to of so much importance.”

“He is studying hard; and for the last few days he has been a good deal

with Cornelius Cinna, who generally admits him at this hour. Cinna

thinks very highly of him.”

“Well, for my part, I must confess I should prefer a ride here under

the green trees, to all the harangues of that perverse old man.”

“Aurelius finds him most interesting; he considers him quite a genius.”

“What next?--A genius in the art of seeing the whole world black!”

“Nay, quite seriously. Cinna is initiating Caius into the mysteries

of state-craft, teaching him philosophy and history. Caius said, that

in the few hours he had been permitted to converse with Cinna, he had

learnt more than in many years of solitary study.”

“Well; then our Caius--you yourself called him simply Caius--will soon

begin to wrinkle his brows and to scent ruin and misery in everything.

Do you know, child, this Cinna....”

She broke off suddenly, for some one called her by name; she looked

round and saw Quintus, who came out from among the trees.

“Well? Are you often to be met out here? And always close to the

highway! You must take an extraordinary interest in fine horses....”

“We do indeed!” said Lucilia pertly. “For instance, look at that noble

grey just now turning into the avenue. What a head! what a mane!”

Claudia squeezed her saucy sister’s arm, for the rider, who came

galloping towards them, was none other than Caius Aurelius. By

his side rode Herodianus, rather roughly exercised on a tall,

high-stepping steed; his empurpled face betrayed but little liking for

the performance. Aurelius, by contrast, looked all the more radiant,

guiding his noble horse as if it were child’s-play among the throng of

vehicles, and enjoying to the utmost the sense of power and security.

He now caught sight of Claudia, and the blood mounted to his brow. He

was so much occupied in looking at the two girls, to whom he bowed in

agitated confusion, that he did not notice, that one of the very small

horses, called by the Romans “mannie,”[318] was rushing towards him

like an arrow. Its rider, a boy of about twelve, tried to turn the

pony’s head, but not soon enough to avoid the grey, which tossed its

head aside. So the pony’s mane just tickled the horse’s lower jaw, and

the boy only escaped a violent collision by ducking widely on one side.

The Batavian’s horse, at all times an irritable beast, gave an ominous

snort, and reared straight up, trembling in every muscle, and in the

next instant would inevitably have fallen backwards if Quintus had not

made a bold leap over the brushwood, seized the horse by the bridle,

and after a short struggle brought him to a stand-still on all fours

again. Herodianus, meanwhile, who was frightened out of his senses, was

thrown up from his saddle by a sudden spring of his steed, and reseated

in front of it; he threw his arms round the beast’s neck, and remained

a comical picture of woe. After Quintus had quieted the Batavian’s

excited grey, he came to the freedman’s help.

“By Jove the avenger!” cried Herodianus, shuffling back into his saddle

with much difficulty, “this wild horse of the Sun[319] was within a

hair’s breadth of trampling me under his hoofs. Thanks, earnest and

warmest thanks, heroic Quintus Claudius! I will drink a dozen bowls to

your health this evening.”

“I have to thank you too,” said Aurelius with feeling. “If it is ever in

my power to render you such a service....”

“By all the gods!” said Quintus. “It might be supposed....”

“Nay, but I saw how close my horse’s hoofs were to your head.”

“Really? However, do you know who the little dare-devil was who shot

by you at such a pace? That was Burrhus, the son of Parthenius;[320] a

scatter-brained little rascal. He inherits it from his mother.”

“Burrhus?--the boy that Martial praises so extravagantly?”

“The very same. He flatters the son, and so touches the father.”

“Well, if he hears that Burrhus nearly rode me down, it may perhaps

afford him materials for fresh adulation. I, at any rate, have reason

to be glad that his heroic attempt was not altogether successful; that

I owe to you, my valiant and fearless friend! As I say, if ever you are

in a position....”

“Say no more about such a trifle, I beg of you,” said Quintus. “Though

indeed,” he added smiling, “it is not impossible, that I may claim your

kind offices sooner than you expect, though not as a return for my

performances as a horse-tamer.”

“I am happy to hear it. Come when you will, I am entirely at your

disposal.”

“Very well then,” said Quintus with emphasis; “expect me this evening

by the end of the second vigil.”

“Unfortunately I am engaged at that hour.”

“Later then, an hour before midnight?”

“That will do; I will expect you,” said Aurelius.

The two girls had stood quite still during this short dialogue. Claudia

was still struggling with the remains of her agitation, even Lucilia

had turned pale. Aurelius now stammered out a confused apology, bid

them farewell, and set spurs to his horse, while the freedman dragged

with all his might at the wolf’s-tooth bit[321] of his hard-mouthed

jade. They vanished in the crowd, Aurelius as straight and free

as a young centaur, and his companion like a clumsy bale of goods

incessantly tossed and jolted.

“You are a fine fellow!” cried Claudia, clasping her brother’s hand

with eager emotion. “What strength, what courage, what promptitude! Oh!

my heart nearly stood still with terror, when the rearing brute’s hoofs

hung just above your head--I shall never forget it!”

“I am sure I am very much obliged to you, my dear little sister. It is

a long time, since I last heard you speak to me in such an enthusiastic

key. Confess, Claudia--the fact that the rider’s name happened to be

Caius Aurelius, does not diminish your ardent appreciation of the feat?”

“You may laugh at me, if you will. I respect and admire you, and

forgive all your former sins.”

“Are you coming with us?” asked Lucilia.

“For ten minutes; then I must turn back again. Clodianus expects me at

the Baths.”

“And where do you dine to-day?” asked Claudia.

“With Cinna.”

“It is a long time since you dined with us.”

“I will to-morrow, if it is convenient. I will see whether he will

allow me to bring Cornelia with me....”

“Hardly,” said Lucilia. “Since the day before yesterday he has been in

a desperately bad humor. This morning early I had a note from Cornelia,

begging me to go and rescue her from the depths of melancholy.”

“What does Cornelia wish for?” said Quintus. “In my presence she is

always cheerfulness itself.”

“That is the magic of love,” replied Lucilia. “Its charms conquer all

griefs.”

“You seem highly experienced!”

“Theory--pure theory.”

They walked on towards the river. There they stood for a few minutes,

watching the boats and gondolas, which gently drifted down to the

Aelian bridge or struggled up stream under the stout strokes of the

oarsmen. Beyond the opposite shore the beautiful hills, strewn with

gardens and villas, smiled invitingly down on them, and farther off

still rose the five peaks of Soracte.[322]

“They will soon be crowned with snow,” sighed Claudia.

“Yes, it is wearing into autumn,” said Quintus. “But now, my children,

you must amuse yourselves without me. Till we meet to-morrow.”

“You fellows,” said Claudia, turning to the Numidians, when Quintus

was lost in the crowd. “Do you know what? You ought to be ashamed of

yourselves, down to the very ground. If it had not been for Quintus,

Aurelius would have been under the horse’s hoofs. Cowards! By the gods,

but I am minded to have you punished, that you may remember this hour!”

The Africans opened their wide thick mouths, and stared at their

mistress as if some marvel had happened. None of her slaves had ever

heard such words before from Claudia’s lips.

“That comes of her being betrothed to that rich Furius,” whispered one

of them. “I always told you, that the gentlest turn haughty when there

is a husband in sight.”

FOOTNOTES:

[299] CAMPUS MARTIUS. The name given to the public pleasure grounds

in the north-western part of Rome. Strabo describes them

minutely. (V, 3.)

[300] COLONNADE OF AGRIPPA. The most renowned object in the Campus

Martius was the hundred-columned portico of Vipsanius Agrippa.

[301] LAUREL GROVES. Within Agrippa’s colonnade were laurel and

plane-groves. (Mart. _Ep._ I, 108, etc.)

[302] VIRGIL. The author of the Aeneid had always been one of the

most popular writers. He was even studied in the schools, as

Schiller is in Germany at the present day.

[303] BATTLE OF THE FROGS AND MICE. (βατραχομυομαχία) The Battle

of the Frogs, a parody upon the Iliad; falsely attributed to

Homer, and probably composed by Pigres of Halicarnassus.

[304] ROSTRA. The name of the orator’s platform, adorned with a

ship’s beak (rostrum, the ship’s beak) in the Forum Romanum.

[305] INTENDS HIS DAUGHTER TO MARRY A CONSUL. Roman women married at

a very early age, therefore in the nature of things, parents

made the choice for the inexperienced girls. Thus Junius

Mauricus requested the younger Pliny, to propose a husband for

the daughter of his brother Junius Rusticus Arulenus. (See