Quintus Claudius, Volume 1. Eckstein Ernst
complain of my carefulness?” retorted Lucilia. “Punctuality is the first virtue of a house mistress.”
“Aha! and since Lucilia’s ambitions aim at that high dignity…”
“Laugh away! A well-ordered home is very desirable for you; and it will be a real mercy when you get married. Since you have lived alone, you have got into all sorts of mischief. But what is it that you want here, you ugly Satyr? Do you not see that you are dreadfully in the way? There, now you are treading on the travelling-cloaks! I entreat you leave the room to the household gods!”
“What! I am in your way? That is your view of the matter; but it is you who are really the spoil-peace, the eternally restless storm who have so often come sweeping down on our idyllic calm. Of all the things, which remind us here of Rome, you are the most Roman. You have nothing but your little snub-nose to redeem you a little. But, by Hercules! when I see you bustling around here, I can picture to myself all the fevered turmoil of the great city116 with its two million inhabitants. Well, I will taste the sea-breezes once more – once more, for a brief space, enjoy peace and quietness.”
“How?”
“I will wait for sunrise at the top of the hill, where the road turns down to Cumae. In Rome it rises through smoke and mist; while here – oh! how grandly and gloriously it mounts from behind the cone of Vesuvius…”
“And rises there through smoke and mist!” laughed Lucilia. “Well, make haste and come back again, or we shall set off without you.”
She turned once more to the slaves. Quintus wrapped himself in his ample lacerna,117 waved his hand to her, and went out.
The high-road was absolutely deserted; he drew a deep breath. It was a delicious morning. His wish to bid farewell, as it were, to the sun and air of Baiae was not affected; like all Romans he raved about the sea.118 Its shore was to him the one real Museion– as Pliny the younger119 had once expressed it – the true abode of the Muses, where the celestial powers seemed nearest to him; here, if anywhere, while watching the waves, he found time and opportunity for self-study and reflection. He had now been living with his family in their quiet villa ever since the end of April, and had spent many hours in serious meditation, in congenial literary pleasures and diligent study. He had once more learned the real value of retirement, which in Rome was so unattainable. A long winter of dissipation had left him satiated, and Baiae’s aromatic air, a simple existence in the bosom of his family, and the spirit of Greek poetry had combined to restore his palled senses and overexcited nerves. And now, as the moment of return approached, he was seized more and more with the old spirit of unrest. He felt that the omnipotent sway of that demon called Rome would drag him back again into the vortex of aimless tragi-comedy, and now a last glance at the smiling and slumbering sea was a positive craving of his heart.
He slowly climbed the hill. At about a hundred paces up, there was a spot whence he could see over the roofs of the tallest villas and down into the valley. His eye, though his purpose was to look far away and across the sea, was irresistibly riveted by an object that was quite close at hand. To his right a by-path led down towards the palace of the Empress, and the huge portico, with its Corinthian columns, gleamed pale and visionary in the doubtful light. But what attracted the young man’s attention was a little side-door, which slowly turned on its pivot120 with a slight noise, letting a female figure in Greek dress pass out into the road. Quintus recognized Euterpe, the flute-player. Limp and weary she climbed the steep slope, her eyes fixed on the ground, and as she came closer, Quintus could see that she had been weeping bitterly.
“Good morning, all hail!” he cried, when the young woman was within a few steps of him. Euterpe gave a little cry.
“It is you, my lord!” she said with a faint smile. “Returning so late from Cumae?”
“No, my good Euterpe. I am up not late, but early. But what in the world have you been doing at this hour in Domitia’s palace? Has she been giving a feast? You do not look as if you had gathered a harvest of gold or flowers.”
“Indeed, my lord, no!” replied Euterpe, again melting into tears. “I have been to visit a friend, who is suffering terribly. Down in Baiae, where I was playing at night in the house of the wealthy Timotheus, Agathon the seer gave me herbs and salves – they cost me a heavy sum – and since then I have been in there… Oh! his wounds are horrible… But what am I talking about! He is only a slave, my lord; what can Quintus Claudius care…?”
“Do you think so?” said Quintus, interrupting the agitated speaker. “But I am not made of stone; I know full well, that though among slaves there is many a scamp, there are also worthy and excellent men. And if, to crown all, he is the friend121 of so charming a creature…”
“Nay, my lord, you will have your jest – but if you could only see him, poor Eurymachus! If you could know how faithful he is, and how noble!”
“Well, I call that being desperately in love!”
Euterpe colored. “No,” she said modestly. “I can accuse myself of many sins, but Eurymachus – no evil thought ever entered his mind.”
“Is love a sin then?”
“I am married.”
“Here – you were not wont to be so strict!”
“And the greater pity! If I had always known Eurymachus, as I know him now…”
“Indeed! and how do you know him now?”
“He has opened my eyes; I know now how deeply I have sinned…”
“He is a philosopher then, who converts fair sinners from their evil ways?”
“He is a hero!” exclaimed Euterpe with enthusiasm.
“You do not stint your praise. Does he belong to the Empress?”
“To her steward, Stephanus. Ah! my lord, he is a tyrant…”
“So they say.”
“How he treated the poor fellow! It beats all description. For one single word he had him flogged till he was raw, and then tied him up in the park in the noontide sun. The gnats and flies…” But at the woman’s last words Quintus had gone nearer to her.
“Listen,” he said hurriedly: “I believe I know your Eurymachus – a pale face with a dark beard – quiet, contemning pain – standing by the stake like a martyr…”
“You saw him?” cried Euterpe, smiling through her tears. “Yes, it was he indeed. No one else has that extraordinary power of defying every torment. Now he is lying half-dead on his bed; his whole back is one dreadful wound, and yet not a complaint, not a word of reproach! Fortunately the gate-keeper is my very good friend. He sent me a message; otherwise very likely Eurymachus might have died in his misery, without my knowing it. But I hope, I hope the charm may save him.”
“Listen, child,” said Quintus after a pause: “You shall see, that I know how to value courage, even in the person of a slave. Here, take this gold and spend it for the benefit of the sufferer, and by and bye, when he is well again, write to me in Rome; then we will see what can be done next.”
“Oh, my lord!” cried the flute-player vehemently, “you are like the gods for graciousness and kindness. Do I understand rightly, that we may hope from your goodness…”
“Understand all you please,” interrupted the youth kindly. “The chief point is, that you should remind me of it at the right moment. In Rome a man forgets his nearest relations.”
“I will remind you,” said Euterpe, radiant. “Sooner should I forget to eat and drink. About the middle of next month I am going to the capital with Diphilus, my husband. He is a master-carpenter, and will have work to do on the grand erections for the Centenary Festival. If you will allow me, I will myself remind you in person.”
“Do
The great city. The population of Rome, under the emperors, was a little less than two millions, but largely exceeded one million. There are no exact statements; but calculations have been made from different standpoints, which give about the same result. The most important points to be considered here, are first the extent of surface occupied by imperial Rome, and secondly the estimates of ancient writers concerning the consumption of grain, which in the time of Josephus amounted to 60.000,000 bushels yearly. Here too, may be mentioned the somewhat hyperbolical passage, Arist.
Lacerna. A light woollen cloak, worn either in place of the toga or tunic, or, which was more customary, as an outside wrap over the toga. White lacernae were the most elegant.
He raved about the sea. The Romans’ love for the sea is proved by many passages in their literature, but still more by the ruins of their villas and palaces, which bordered its most beautiful shores, and were praised by contemporaries for their views, (Friedlander,
Pliny the Younger. C. Plinius Caecilius Secundus, a nephew and adopted son of the older Pliny, was born A.D. 62, at Novum Comum, now Como, on the Lake Larius, Lake of Como, on the banks of which he had several villas. (
On its pivot. Doors were not usually hung on hinges, as with us, but had on their upper and lower edges wedge-shaped pivots (
Friend. Quintus would speak of Eurymachus as the ‘friend’ of Euterpe with intentional double meaning, half in the usual honest sense, but partly too in the sense which the feminine form,