Chapter XXXI

PRETORIANS surrounded the groves on the banks of the pond of Agrippa,

lest over-numerous throngs of spectators might annoy Cæsar and his

guests; though it was said that everything in Rome distinguished for

wealth, beauty, or intellect was present at that feast, which had no

equal in the history of the city. Tigellinus wished to recompense Cæsar

for the deferred journey to Achæa, to surpass all who had ever feasted

Nero, and prove that no man could entertain as he could. With this

object in view, while with Cæsar in Naples, and later in Beneventum, he

had made preparations and sent orders to bring from the remotest regions

of the earth beasts, birds, rare fish, and plants, not omitting vessels

and cloths, which were to enhance the splendor of the feast. The

revenues of whole provinces went to satisfy mad projects; but the

powerful favorite had no need to hesitate. His influence grew daily.

Tigellinus was not dearer than others to Nero yet, perhaps, but he was

becoming more and more indispensable. Petronius surpassed him infinitely

in polish, intellect, wit; in conversation he knew better how to amuse

Cæsar: but to his misfortune he surpassed in conversation Cæsar himself,

hence he roused his jealousy; moreover he could not be an obedient

instrument in everything, and Cæsar feared his opinion when there were

questions in matters of taste. But before Tigellinus, Nero never felt

any restraint. The very title, Arbiter Elegantiarum, which had been

given to Petronius, annoyed Nero’s vanity, for who had the right to

bear that title but himself? Tigellinus had sense enough to know his

own deficiencies; and seeing that he could not compete with Petronius,

Lucan, or others distinguished by birth, talents, or learning, he

resolved to extinguish them by the suppleness of his services, and above

all by such a magnificence that the imagination of Nero himself would

be struck by it. He had arranged to give the feast on a gigantic raft,

framed of gilded timbers. The borders of this raft were decked with

splendid shells found in the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean, shells

brilliant with the colors of pearls and the rainbow. The banks of

the pond were covered with groups of palm, with groves of lotus, and

blooming roses. In the midst of these were hidden fountains of perfumed

water, statues of gods and goddesses, and gold or silver cages filled

with birds of various colors. In the centre of the raft rose an immense

tent, or rather, not to hide the feasters, only the roof of a tent, made

of Syrian purple, resting on silver columns; under it were gleaming,

like suns, tables prepared for the guests, loaded with Alexandrian

glass, crystal, and vessels simply beyond price,--the plunder of Italy,

Greece, and Asia Minor. The raft, which because of plants accumulated on

it had the appearance of an island and a garden, was joined by cords of

gold and purple to boats shaped like fish, swans, mews, and flamingoes,

in which sat at painted oars naked rowers of both sexes, with forms and

features of marvellous beauty, their hair dressed in Oriental fashion,

or gathered in golden nets. When Nero arrived at the main raft with

Poppæa and the Augustians, and sat beneath the purple tent-roof, the

oars struck the water, the boats moved, the golden cords stretched,

and the raft with the feast and the guests began to move and describe

circles on the pond. Other boats surrounded it, and other smaller rafts,

filled with women playing on citharæ and harps, women whose rosy bodies

on the blue background of the sky and the water and in the reflections

from golden instruments seemed to absorb that blue and those

reflections, and to change and bloom like flowers.

From the groves at the banks, from fantastic buildings reared for

that day and hidden among thickets, were heard music and song. The

neighborhood resounded, the groves resounded; echoes bore around the

voices of horns and trumpets. Cæsar himself, with Poppæa on one side of

him, and Pythagoras on the other, was amazed; and more especially when

among the boats young slave maidens appeared as sirens, and were covered

with green network in imitation of scales, he did not spare praises on

Tigellinus. But he looked at Petronius from habit, wishing to learn the

opinion of the “arbiter,” who seemed indifferent for a long time, and

only when questioned outright, answered,--“I judge, lord, that ten

thousand naked maidens make less impression than one.”

But the “floating feast” pleased Cæsar, for it was something new.

Besides, such exquisite dishes were served that the imagination of

Apicius would have failed at sight of them, and wines of so many kinds

that Otho, who used to serve eighty, would have hidden under water with

shame, could he have witnessed the luxury of that feast. Besides women,

the Augustians sat down at the table, among whom Vinicius excelled all

with his beauty. Formerly his figure and face indicated too clearly

the soldier by profession; now mental suffering and the physical pain

through which he had passed had chiselled his features, as if the

delicate hand of a master had passed over them. His complexion had

lost its former swarthiness, but the yellowish gleam of Numidian marble

remained on it. His eyes had grown larger and more pensive. His body

had retained its former powerful outlines, as if created for armor; but

above the body of a legionary was seen the head of a Grecian god, or at

least of a refined patrician, at once subtle and splendid. Petronius, in

saying that none of the ladies of Cæsar’s court would be able or willing

to resist Vinicius, spoke like a man of experience. All gazed at him

now, not excepting Poppæa, or the vestal virgin Rubria, whom Cæsar

wished to see at the feast.

Wines, cooled in mountain snow, soon warmed the hearts and heads of the

guests. Boats shaped as grasshoppers or butterflies shot forth from the

bushes at the shore every moment. The blue surface of the pond seemed

occupied by butterflies. Above the boats here and there flew doves, and

other birds from India and Africa, fastened with silver and blue threads

or strings. The sun had passed the greater part of the sky, but the day

was warm and even hot, though in the beginning of May. The pond heaved

from the strokes of oars, which beat the water in time with music;

but in the air there was not the least breath of wind; the groves were

motionless, as if lost in listening and in gazing at that which was

happening on the water. The raft circled continually on the pond,

bearing guests who were increasingly drunk and boisterous.

The feast had not run half its course yet, when the order in which all

sat at the table was observed no longer. Cæsar gave the example, for,

rising himself, he commanded Vinicius, who sat next to Rubria the

vestal, to move. Nero occupied the place, and began to whisper something

in Rubria’s ear. Vinicius found himself next to Poppæa, who extended her

arm and begged him to fasten her loosened bracelet. When he did so, with

hands trembling somewhat, she cast at him from beneath her long lashes

a glance as it were of modesty, and shook her golden head as if in

resistance.

Meanwhile the sun, growing larger, ruddier, sank slowly behind the

tops of the grove; the guests were for the greater part thoroughly

intoxicated. The raft circled now nearer the shore, on which, among

bunches of trees and flowers, were seen groups of people, disguised as

fauns or satyrs, playing on flutes, bagpipes, and drums, with groups of

maidens representing nymphs, dryads, and hamadryads. Darkness fell at

last amid drunken shouts from the tent, shouts raised in honor of

Luna. Meanwhile the groves were lighted with a thousand lamps. From the

lupanaria on the shores shone swarms of lights; on the terraces appeared

new naked groups, formed of the wives and daughters of the first Roman

houses. These with voice and unrestrained manner began to lure partners.

The raft touched the shore at last. Cæsar and the Augustians vanished

in the groves, scattered in lupanaria, in tents hidden in thickets,

in grottos artificially arranged among fountains and springs. Madness

seized all; no one knew whither Cæsar had gone; no one knew who was a

senator, who a knight, who a dancer, who a musician. Satyrs and fauns

fell to chasing nymphs with shouting. They struck lamps with thyrses to

quench them. Darkness covered certain parts of the grove. Everywhere,

however, laughter and shouts were heard, and whispers, and panting

breaths. In fact Rome had not seen anything like that before.

Vinicius was not drunk, as he had been at the feast in Nero’s palace,

when Lygia was present; but he was roused and intoxicated by the sight

of everything done round about, and at last the fever of pleasure seized

him. Rushing into the forest, he ran, with others, examining who of the

dryads seemed most beautiful. New flocks of these raced around him every

moment with shouts and with songs; these flocks were pursued by fauns,

satyrs, senators, knights, and by sounds of music. Seeing at last a band

of maidens led by one arrayed as Diana, he sprang to it, intending to

examine the goddess more closely. All at once the heart sank in his

bosom, for he thought that in that goddess, with the moon on her

forehead, he recognized Lygia.

They encircled him with a mad whirl, and, wishing evidently to incline

him to follow, rushed away the next moment like a herd of deer. But he

stood on the spot with beating heart, breathless; for though he saw that

the Diana was not Lygia, and that at close sight she was not even like

her, the too powerful impression deprived him of strength. Straightway

he was seized by such yearning as he had never felt before, and love for

Lygia rushed to his breast in a new, immense wave. Never had she seemed

so dear, pure, and beloved as in that forest of madness and frenzied

excess. A moment before, he himself wished to drink of that cup, and

share in that shameless letting loose of the senses; now disgust and

repugnance possessed him. He felt that infamy was stifling him; that

his breast needed air and the stars which were hidden by the thickets of

that dreadful grove. He determined to flee; but barely had he moved

when before him stood some veiled figure, which placed its hands on his

shoulders and whispered, flooding his face with burning breath, “I love

thee! Come! no one will see us, hasten!”

Vinicius was roused, as if from a dream.

“Who art thou?”

But she leaned her breast on him and insisted,--“Hurry! See how lonely

it is here, and I love thee! Come!”

“Who art thou?” repeated Vinicius.

“Guess!”

As she said this, she pressed her lips to his through the veil, drawing

toward her his head at the same time, till at last breath failed the

woman and she tore her face from him.

“Night of love! night of madness!” said she, catching the air quickly.

“Today is free! Thou hast me!”

But that kiss burned Vinicius; it filled him with disquiet. His soul and

heart were elsewhere; in the whole world nothing existed for him except

Lygia. So, pushing back the veiled figure, he said,--

“Whoever thou be, I love another, I do not wish thee.”

“Remove the veil,” said she, lowering her head toward him.

At that moment the leaves of the nearest myrtle began to rustle; the

veiled woman vanished like a dream vision, but from a distance her laugh

was heard, strange in some way, and ominous.

Petronius stood before Vinicius.

“I have heard and seen,” said he.

“Let us go from this place,” replied Vinicius.

And they went. They passed the lupanaria gleaming with light, the grove,

the line of mounted pretorians, and found the litters.

“I will go with thee,” said Petronius.

They sat down together. On the road both were silent, and only in the

atrium of Vinicius’s house did Petronius ask,--“Dost thou know who that

was?”

“Was it Rubria?” asked Vinicius, repulsed at the very thought that

Rubria was a vestal.

“No.”

“Who then?”

Petronius lowered his voice. “The fire of Vesta was defiled, for Rubria

was with Cæsar. But with thee was speaking”--and he finished in a still

lower voice, “the divine Augusta.”

A moment of silence followed.

“Cæsar,” said Petronius, “was unable to hide from Poppæa his desire for

Rubria; therefore she wished, perhaps, to avenge herself. But I hindered

you both. Hadst thou recognized the Augusta and refused her, thou

wouldst have been ruined beyond rescue,--thou, Lygia, and I, perhaps.”

“I have enough of Rome, Cæsar, feasts, the Augusta, Tigellinus, and

all of you!” burst out Vinicius. “I am stifling. I cannot live thus; I

cannot. Dost understand me?”

“Vinicius, thou art losing sense, judgment, moderation.”

“I love only her in this world.”

“What of that?”

“This, that I wish no other love. I have no wish for your life, your

feasts, your shamelessness, your crimes!”

“What is taking place in thee? Art thou a Christian?”

The young man seized his head with both hands, and repeated, as if in

despair,--“Not yet! not yet!”