Chapter III
PARENTAGE OF GLAUCUS. DESCRIPTION OF THE HOUSES OF POMPEII. CLASSICREVEL.
HEAVEN had given to Glaucus every blessing but one: it had given himbeauty, health, fortune, genius, illustrious descent, a heart of fire, amind of poetry; but it had denied him the heritage of freedom. He wasborn in Athens, the subject of Rome. Succeeding early to an ampleinheritance, he had indulged that inclination for travel so natural tothe young, and had drunk deep of the intoxicating draught of pleasureamidst the gorgeous luxuries of the imperial court.
He was an Alcibiades without ambition. He was what a man ofimagination, youth, fortune, and talents, readily becomes when youdeprive him of the inspiration of glory. His house at Rome was thetheme of the debauchees, but also of the lovers of art; and thesculptors of Greece delighted to task their skill in adorning theporticoes and exedrae of an Athenian. His retreat in Pompeii--alas! thecolors are faded now, the walls stripped of their paintings!--its mainbeauty, its elaborate finish of grace and ornament, is gone; yet whenfirst given once more to the day, what eulogies, what wonder, did itsminute and glowing decorations create--its paintings--its mosaics!Passionately enamoured of poetry and the drama, which recalled toGlaucus the wit and the heroism of his race, that fairy mansion wasadorned with representations of AEschylus and Homer. And antiquaries,who resolve taste to a trade, have turned the patron to the professor,and still (though the error is now acknowledged) they style in custom,as they first named in mistake, the disburied house of the AthenianGlaucus 'THE HOUSE OF THE DRAMATIC POET'.
Previous to our description of this house, it may be as well to conveyto the reader a general notion of the houses of Pompeii, which he willfind to resemble strongly the plans of Vitruvius; but with all thosedifferences in detail, of caprice and taste, which being natural tomankind, have always puzzled antiquaries. We shall endeavor to makethis description as clear and unpedantic as possible.
You enter then, usually, by a small entrance-passage (calledcestibulum), into a hall, sometimes with (but more frequently without)the ornament of columns; around three sides of this hall are doorscommunicating with several bedchambers (among which is the porter's),the best of these being usually appropriated to country visitors. Atthe extremity of the hall, on either side to the right and left, if thehouse is large, there are two small recesses, rather than chambers,generally devoted to the ladies of the mansion; and in the centre of thetessellated pavement of the hall is invariably a square, shallowreservoir for rain water (classically termed impluvium), which wasadmitted by an aperture in the roof above; the said aperture beingcovered at will by an awning. Near this impluvium, which had a peculiarsanctity in the eyes of the ancients, were sometimes (but at Pompeiimore rarely than at Rome) placed images of the household gods--thehospitable hearth, often mentioned by the Roman poets, and consecratedto the Lares, was at Pompeii almost invariably formed by a movablebrazier; while in some corner, often the most ostentatious place, wasdeposited a huge wooden chest, ornamented and strengthened by bands ofbronze or iron, and secured by strong hooks upon a stone pedestal sofirmly as to defy the attempts of any robber to detach it from itsposition. It is supposed that this chest was the money-box, or coffer,of the master of the house; though as no money has been found in any ofthe chests discovered at Pompeii, it is probable that it was sometimesrather designed for ornament than use.
In this hall (or atrium, to speak classically) the clients and visitorsof inferior rank were usually received. In the houses of the more'respectable', an atriensis, or slave peculiarly devoted to the serviceof the hall, was invariably retained, and his rank among hisfellow-slaves was high and important. The reservoir in the centre musthave been rather a dangerous ornament, but the centre of the hall waslike the grass-plot of a college, and interdicted to the passers to andfro, who found ample space in the margin. Right opposite the entrance,at the other end of the hall, was an apartment (tablinum), in which thepavement was usually adorned with rich mosaics, and the walls coveredwith elaborate paintings. Here were usually kept the records of thefamily, or those of any public office that had been filled by the owner:on one side of this saloon, if we may so call it, was often adining-room, or triclinium; on the other side, perhaps, what we shouldnow term a cabinet of gems, containing whatever curiosities were deemedmost rare and costly; and invariably a small passage for the slaves tocross to the further parts of the house, without passing the apartmentsthus mentioned. These rooms all opened on a square or oblong colonnade,technically termed peristyle. If the house was small, its boundaryceased with this colonnade; and in that case its centre, howeverdiminutive, was ordinarily appropriated to the purpose of a garden, andadorned with vases of flowers, placed upon pedestals: while, under thecolonnade, to the right and left, were doors admitting to bedrooms, to asecond triclinium, or eating-room (for the ancients generallyappropriated two rooms at least to that purpose, one for summer, and onefor winter--or, perhaps, one for ordinary, the other for festive,occasions); and if the owner affected letters, a cabinet, dignified bythe name of library--for a very small room was sufficient to contain thefew rolls of papyrus which the ancients deemed a notable collection ofbooks.
At the end of the peristyle was generally the kitchen. Supposing thehouse was large, it did not end with the peristyle, and the centrethereof was not in that case a garden, but might be, perhaps, adornedwith a fountain, or basin for fish; and at its end, exactly opposite tothe tablinum, was generally another eating-room, on either side of whichwere bedrooms, and, perhaps, a picture-saloon, or pinacotheca. Theseapartments communicated again with a square or oblong space, usuallyadorned on three sides with a colonnade like the peristyle, and verymuch resembling the peristyle, only usually longer. This was the properviridarium, or garden, being commonly adorned with a fountain, orstatues, and a profusion of gay flowers: at its extreme end was thegardener's house; on either side, beneath the colonnade, were sometimes,if the size of the family required it, additional rooms.
At Pompeii, a second or third story was rarely of importance, beingbuilt only above a small part of the house, and containing rooms for theslaves; differing in this respect from the more magnificent edifices ofRome, which generally contained the principal eating-room (orcaenaculum) on the second floor. The apartments themselves wereordinarily of small size; for in those delightful climes they receivedany extraordinary number of visitors in the peristyle (or portico), thehall, or the garden; and even their banquet-rooms, however elaboratelyadorned and carefully selected in point of aspect, were of diminutiveproportions; for the intellectual ancients, being fond of society, notof crowds, rarely feasted more than nine at a time, so that largedinner-rooms were not so necessary with them as with us. But the suiteof rooms seen at once from the entrance, must have had a very imposingeffect: you beheld at once the hall richly paved and painted--thetablinum--the graceful peristyle, and (if the house extended farther)the opposite banquet-room and the garden, which closed the view withsome gushing fount or marble statue.
The reader will now have a tolerable notion of the Pompeian houses,which resembled in some respects the Grecian, but mostly the Romanfashion of domestic architecture. In almost every house there is somedifference in detail from the rest, but the principal outline is thesame in all. In all you find the hall, the tablinum, and the peristyle,communicating with each other; in all you find the walls richly painted;and all the evidence of a people fond of the refining elegancies oflife. The purity of the taste of the Pompeians in decoration is,however, questionable: they were fond of the gaudiest colors, offantastic designs; they often painted the lower half of their columns abright red, leaving the rest uncolored; and where the garden was small,its wall was frequently tinted to deceive the eye as to its extent,imitating trees, birds, temples, etc., in perspective--a meretriciousdelusion which the graceful pedantry of Pliny himself adopted, with acomplacent pride in its ingenuity.
But the house of Glaucus was at once one of the smallest, and yet one ofthe most adorned and finished of
all the private mansions of Pompeii: itwould be a model at this day for the house of 'a single man inMayfair'--the envy and despair of the coelibian purchasers of buhland marquetry.
You enter by a long and narrow vestibule, on the floor of which is theimage of a dog in mosaic, with the well-known 'Cave canem'--or 'Bewarethe dog'. On either side is a chamber of some size; for the interiorpart of the house not being large enough to contain the two greatdivisions of private and public apartments, these two rooms were setapart for the reception of visitors who neither by rank nor familiaritywere entitled to admission in the penetralia of the mansion.
Advancing up the vestibule you enter an atrium, that when firstdiscovered was rich in paintings, which in point of expression wouldscarcely disgrace a Rafaele. You may see them now transplanted to theNeapolitan Museum: they are still the admiration of connoisseurs--theydepict the parting of Achilles and Briseis. Who does not acknowledgethe force, the vigour, the beauty, employed in delineating the forms andfaces of Achilles and the immortal slave!
On one side the atrium, a small staircase admitted to the apartments forthe slaves on the second floor; there also were two or three smallbedrooms, the walls of which portrayed the rape of Europa, the battle ofthe Amazons, etc.
You now enter the tablinum, across which, at either end, hung richdraperies of Tyrian purple, half withdrawn. On the walls was depicted apoet reading his verses to his friends; and in the pavement was inserteda small and most exquisite mosaic, typical of the instructions given bythe director of the stage to his comedians.
You passed through this saloon and entered the peristyle; and here (as Ihave said before was usually the case with the smaller houses ofPompeii) the mansion ended. From each of the seven columns that adornedthis court hung festoons of garlands: the centre, supplying the place ofa garden, bloomed with the rarest flowers placed in vases of whitemarble, that were supported on pedestals. At the left hand of thissmall garden was a diminutive fane, resembling one of those smallchapels placed at the side of roads in Catholic countries, and dedicatedto the Penates; before it stood a bronzed tripod: to the left of thecolonnade were two small cubicula, or bedrooms; to the right was thetriclinium, in which the guests were now assembled.
This room is usually termed by the antiquaries of Naples 'The Chamber ofLeda'; and in the beautiful work of Sir William Gell, the reader willfind an engraving from that most delicate and graceful painting of Ledapresenting her newborn to her husband, from which the room derives itsname. This charming apartment opened upon the fragrant garden. Roundthe table of citrean wood, highly polished and delicately wrought withsilver arabesques, were placed the three couches, which were yet morecommon at Pompeii than the semicircular seat that had grown lately intofashion at Rome: and on these couches of bronze, studded with richermetals, were laid thick quiltings covered with elaborate broidery, andyielding luxuriously to the pressure.
'Well, I must own,' said the aedile Pansa, 'that your house, thoughscarcely larger than a case for one's fibulae, is a gem of its kind.How beautifully painted is that parting of Achilles and Briseis!--what astyle!--what heads!--what a-hem!'
'Praise from Pansa is indeed valuable on such subjects,' said Clodius,gravely. 'Why, the paintings on his walls!--Ah! there is, indeed, thehand of a Zeuxis!'
'You flatter me, my Clodius; indeed you do,' quoth the aedile, who wascelebrated through Pompeii for having the worst paintings in the world;for he was patriotic, and patronized none but Pompeians. 'You flatterme; but there is something pretty--AEdepol, yes--in the colors, to saynothing of the design--and then for the kitchen, my friends--ah! thatwas all my fancy.'
'What is the design?' said Glaucus. 'I have not yet seen your kitchen,though I have often witnessed the excellence of its cheer.'
'A cook, my Athenian--a cook sacrificing the trophies of his skill onthe altar of Vesta, with a beautiful muraena (taken from the life) on aspit at a distance--there is some invention there!'
At that instant the slaves appeared, bearing a tray covered with thefirst preparative initia of the feast. Amidst delicious figs, freshherbs strewed with snow, anchovies, and eggs, were ranged small cups ofdiluted wine sparingly mixed with honey. As these were placed on thetable, young slaves bore round to each of the five guests (for therewere no more) the silver basin of perfumed water, and napkins edged witha purple fringe. But the aedile ostentatiously drew forth his ownnapkin, which was not, indeed, of so fine a linen, but in which thefringe was twice as broad, and wiped his hands with the parade of a manwho felt he was calling for admiration.
'A splendid nappa that of yours,' said Clodius; 'why, the fringe is asbroad as a girdle!'
'A trifle, my Clodius: a trifle! They tell me this stripe is the latestfashion at Rome; but Glaucus attends to these things more than I.'
'Be propitious, O Bacchus!' said Glaucus, inclining reverentially to abeautiful image of the god placed in the centre of the table, at thecorners of which stood the Lares and the salt-holders. The guestsfollowed the prayer, and then, sprinkling the wine on the table, theyperformed the wonted libation.
This over, the convivialists reclined themselves on the couches, and thebusiness of the hour commenced.
'May this cup be my last!' said the young Sallust, as the table, clearedof its first stimulants, was now loaded with the substantial part of theentertainment, and the ministering slave poured forth to him a brimmingcyathus--'May this cup be my last, but it is the best wine I have drunkat Pompeii!'
'Bring hither the amphora,' said Glaucus, 'and read its date and itscharacter.'
The slave hastened to inform the party that the scroll fastened to thecork betokened its birth from Chios, and its age a ripe fifty years.
'How deliciously the snow has cooled it!' said Pansa. 'It is justenough.'
'It is like the experience of a man who has cooled his pleasuressufficiently to give them a double zest,' exclaimed Sallust.
'It is like a woman's "No",' added Glaucus: 'it cools, but to inflamethe more.'
'When is our next wild-beast fight?' said Clodius to Pansa.
'It stands fixed for the ninth ide of August,' answered Pansa: 'on theday after the Vulcanalia--we have a most lovely young lion for theoccasion.'
'Whom shall we get for him to eat?' asked Clodius. 'Alas! there is agreat scarcity of criminals. You must positively find some innocent orother to condemn to the lion, Pansa!'
'Indeed I have thought very seriously about it of late,' replied theaedile, gravely. 'It was a most infamous law that which forbade us tosend our own slaves to the wild beasts. Not to let us do what we likewith our own, that's what I call an infringement on property itself.'
'Not so in the good old days of the Republic,' sighed Sallust.
'And then this pretended mercy to the slaves is such a disappointment tothe poor people. How they do love to see a good tough battle between aman and a lion; and all this innocent pleasure they may lose (if thegods don't send us a good criminal soon) from this cursed law!'
'What can be worse policy,' said Clodius, sententiously, 'than tointerfere with the manly amusements of the people?'
'Well thank Jupiter and the Fates! we have no Nero at present,' saidSallust.
'He was, indeed, a tyrant; he shut up our amphitheatre for ten years.'
'I wonder it did not create a rebellion,' said Sallust.
'It very nearly did,' returned Pansa, with his mouth full of wild boar.
Here the conversation was interrupted for a moment by a flourish offlutes, and two slaves entered with a single dish.
'Ah, what delicacy hast thou in store for us now, my Glaucus?' cried theyoung Sallust, with sparkling eyes.
Sallust was only twenty-four, but he had no pleasure in life likeeating--perhaps he had exhausted all the others: yet had he some talent,and an excellent heart--as far as it went.
'I know its face, by Pollux!' cried Pansa. 'It is an Ambracian Kid. Ho(snapping his fingers, a usual signal to the slaves) we must prepare anew libation in honour to the
new-comer.'
'I had hoped said Glaucus, in a melancholy tone, 'to have procured yousome oysters from Britain; but the winds that were so cruel to Caesarhave forbid us the oysters.'
'Are they in truth so delicious?' asked Lepidus, loosening to a yet moreluxurious ease his ungirdled tunic.
'Why, in truth, I suspect it is the distance that gives the flavor; theywant the richness of the Brundusium oyster. But, at Rome, no supper iscomplete without them.'
'The poor Britons! There is some good in them after all,' said Sallust.'They produce an oyster.'
'I wish they would produce us a gladiator,' said the aedile, whoseprovident mind was musing over the wants of the amphitheatre.
'By Pallas!' cried Glaucus, as his favorite slave crowned his streaminglocks with a new chaplet, 'I love these wild spectacles well enough whenbeast fights beast; but when a man, one with bones and blood like ours,is coldly put on the arena, and torn limb from limb, the interest is toohorrid: I sicken--I gasp for breath--I long to rush and defend him. Theyells of the populace seem to me more dire than the voices of the Furieschasing Orestes. I rejoice that there is so little chance of thatbloody exhibition for our next show!'
The aedile shrugged his shoulders. The young Sallust, who was thoughtthe best-natured man in Pompeii, stared in surprise. The gracefulLepidus, who rarely spoke for fear of disturbing his features,ejaculated 'Hercle!' The parasite Clodius muttered 'AEdepol!' and thesixth banqueter, who was the umbra of Clodius, and whose duty it was toecho his richer friend, when he could not praise him--the parasite of aparasite--muttered also 'AEdepol!'
'Well, you Italians are used to these spectacles; we Greeks are moremerciful. Ah, shade of Pindar!--the rapture of a true Grecian game--theemulation of man against man--the generous strife--the half-mournfultriumph--so proud to contend with a noble foe, so sad to see himovercome! But ye understand me not.'
'The kid is excellent,' said Sallust. The slave, whose duty it was tocarve, and who valued himself on his science, had just performed thatoffice on the kid to the sound of music, his knife keeping time,beginning with a low tenor and accomplishing the arduous feat amidst amagnificent diapason.
'Your cook is, of course, from Sicily?' said Pansa.
'Yes, of Syracuse.'
'I will play you for him,' said Clodius. 'We will have a game betweenthe courses.'
'Better that sort of game, certainly, than a beast fight; but I cannotstake my Sicilian--you have nothing so precious to stake me in return.'
'My Phillida--my beautiful dancing-girl!'
'I never buy women,' said the Greek, carelessly rearranging his chaplet.
The musicians, who were stationed in the portico without, had commencedtheir office with the kid; they now directed the melody into a moresoft, a more gay, yet it may be a more intellectual strain; and theychanted that song of Horace beginning 'Persicos odi', etc., soimpossible to translate, and which they imagined applicable to a feastthat, effeminate as it seems to us, was simple enough for the gorgeousrevelry of the time. We are witnessing the domestic, and not theprincely feast--the entertainment of a gentleman, not an emperor or asenator.
'Ah, good old Horace!' said Sallust, compassionately; 'he sang well offeasts and girls, but not like our modern poets.'
'The immortal Fulvius, for instance,' said Clodius.
'Ah, Fulvius, the immortal!' said the umbra.
'And Spuraena; and Caius Mutius, who wrote three epics in a year--couldHorace do that, or Virgil either said Lepidus. 'Those old poets allfell into the mistake of copying sculpture instead of painting.Simplicity and repose--that was their notion; but we moderns have fire,and passion, and energy--we never sleep, we imitate the colors ofpainting, its life, and its action. Immortal Fulvius!'
'By the way,' said Sallust, 'have you seen the new ode by Spuraena, inhonour of our Egyptian Isis? It is magnificent--the true religiousfervor.'
'Isis seems a favorite divinity at Pompeii,' said Glaucus.
'Yes!' said Pansa, 'she is exceedingly in repute just at this moment;her statue has been uttering the most remarkable oracles. I am notsuperstitious, but I must confess that she has more than once assistedme materially in my magistracy with her advice. Her priests are sopious, too! none of your gay, none of your proud, ministers of Jupiterand Fortune: they walk barefoot, eat no meat, and pass the greater partof the night in solitary devotion!'
'An example to our other priesthoods, indeed!--Jupiter's temple wantsreforming sadly,' said Lepidus, who was a great reformer for all buthimself.
'They say that Arbaces the Egyptian has imparted some most solemnmysteries to the priests of Isis,' observed Sallust. 'He boasts hisdescent from the race of Rameses, and declares that in his family thesecrets of remotest antiquity are treasured.'
'He certainly possesses the gift of the evil eye,' said Clodius. 'If Iever come upon that Medusa front without the previous charm, I am sureto lose a favorite horse, or throw the canes nine times running.'
'The last would be indeed a miracle!' said Sallust, gravely.
'How mean you, Sallust?' returned the gamester, with a flushed brow.
'I mean, what you would leave me if I played often with you; and thatis--nothing.'
Clodius answered only by a smile of disdain.
'If Arbaces were not so rich,' said Pansa, with a stately air, 'I shouldstretch my authority a little, and inquire into the truth of the reportwhich calls him an astrologer and a sorcerer. Agrippa, when aedile ofRome, banished all such terrible citizens. But a rich man--it is theduty of an aedile to protect the rich!'
'What think you of this new sect, which I am told has even a fewproselytes in Pompeii, these followers of the Hebrew God--Christus?'
'Oh, mere speculative visionaries,' said Clodius; 'they have not asingle gentleman amongst them; their proselytes are poor, insignificant,ignorant people!'
'Who ought, however, to be crucified for their blasphemy,' said Pansa,with vehemence; 'they deny Venus and Jove! Nazarene is but another namefor atheist. Let me catch them--that's all.'
The second course was gone--the feasters fell back on theircouches--there was a pause while they listened to the soft voices of theSouth, and the music of the Arcadian reed. Glaucus was the most raptand the least inclined to break the silence, but Clodius began alreadyto think that they wasted time.
'Bene vobis! (Your health!) my Glaucus,' said he, quaffing a cup to eachletter of the Greek's name, with the ease of the practised drinker.'Will you not be avenged on your ill-fortune of yesterday? See, the dicecourt us.'
'As you will,' said Glaucus.
'The dice in summer, and I an aedile!' said Pansa, magisterially; 'it isagainst all law.'
'Not in your presence, grave Pansa,' returned Clodius, rattling the dicein a long box; 'your presence restrains all license: it is not thething, but the excess of the thing, that hurts.'
'What wisdom!' muttered the umbra.
'Well, I will look another way,' said the aedile.
'Not yet, good Pansa; let us wait till we have supped,' said Glaucus.
Clodius reluctantly yielded, concealing his vexation with a yawn.
'He gapes to devour the gold,' whispered Lepidus to Sallust, in aquotation from the Aulularia of Plautus.
'Ah! how well I know these polypi, who hold all they touch,' answeredSallust, in the same tone, and out of the same play.
The third course, consisting of a variety of fruits, pistachio nuts,sweetmeats, tarts, and confectionery tortured into a thousand fantasticand airy shapes, was now placed upon the table; and the ministri, orattendants, also set there the wine (which had hitherto been handedround to the guests) in large jugs of glass, each bearing upon it theschedule of its age and quality.
'Taste this Lesbian, my Pansa,' said Sallust; 'it is excellent.'
'It is not very old,' said Glaucus, 'but it has been made precocious,like ourselves, by being put to the fire:--the wine to the flames ofVulcan--we to those of his wife--to whose honour I pour this cup.'
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bsp; 'It is delicate,' said Pansa, 'but there is perhaps the least particletoo much of rosin in its flavor.'
'What a beautiful cup!' cried Clodius, taking up one of transparentcrystal, the handles of which were wrought with gems, and twisted in theshape of serpents, the favorite fashion at Pompeii.
'This ring,' said Glaucus, taking a costly jewel from the first joint ofhis finger and hanging it on the handle, 'gives it a richer show, andrenders it less unworthy of thy acceptance, my Clodius, on whom may thegods bestow health and fortune, long and oft to crown it to the brim!'
'You are too generous, Glaucus,' said the gamester, handing the cup tohis slave; 'but your love gives it a double value.'
'This cup to the Graces!' said Pansa, and he thrice emptied his calix.The guests followed his example.
'We have appointed no director to the feast,' cried Sallust.
'Let us throw for him, then,' said Clodius, rattling the dice-box.
'Nay,' cried Glaucus, 'no cold and trite director for us: no dictator ofthe banquet; no rex convivii. Have not the Romans sworn never to obey aking? Shall we be less free than your ancestors? Ho! musicians, let ushave the song I composed the other night: it has a verse on thissubject, "The Bacchic hymn of the Hours".'
The musicians struck their instruments to a wild Ionic air, while theyoungest voice in the band chanted forth, in Greek words, as numbers,the following strain:--
THE EVENING HYMN OF THE HOURS
I
Through the summer day, through the weary day, We have glided long; Ere we speed to the Night through her portals grey, Hail us with song!-- With song, with song, With a bright and joyous song; Such as the Cretan maid, While the twilight made her bolder, Woke, high through the ivy shade, When the wine-god first consoled her. From the hush'd, low-breathing skies, Half-shut look'd their starry eyes, And all around, With a loving sound, The AEgean waves were creeping: On her lap lay the lynx's head; Wild thyme was her bridal bed; And aye through each tiny space, In the green vine's green embrace The Fauns were slily peeping-- The Fauns, the prying Fauns-- The arch, the laughing Fauns-- The Fauns were slily peeping!
II
Flagging and faint are we With our ceaseless flight, And dull shall our journey be Through the realm of night, Bathe us, O bathe our weary wings In the purple wave, as it freshly springs To your cups from the fount of light-- From the fount of light--from the fount of light,
For there, when the sun has gone down in night, There in the bowl we find him. The grape is the well of that summer sun, Or rather the stream that he gazed upon, Till he left in truth, like the Thespian youth, His soul, as he gazed, behind him.
III
A cup to Jove, and a cup to Love, And a cup to the son of Maia; And honour with three, the band zone-free, The band of the bright Aglaia. But since every bud in the wreath of pleasure Ye owe to the sister Hours, No stinted cups, in a formal measure, The Bromian law makes ours. He honors us most who gives us most, And boasts, with a Bacchanal's honest boast, He never will count the treasure. Fastly we fleet, then seize our wings, And plunge us deep in the sparkling springs; And aye, as we rise with a dripping plume, We'll scatter the spray round the garland's bloom; We glow--we glow, Behold, as the girls of the Eastern wave Bore once with a shout to the crystal cave The prize of the Mysian Hylas, Even so--even so, We have caught the young god in our warm embrace We hurry him on in our laughing race; We hurry him on, with a whoop and song, The cloudy rivers of night along-- Ho, ho!--we have caught thee, Psilas!
The guests applauded loudly. When the poet is your host, his verses aresure to charm.
'Thoroughly Greek,' said Lepidus: 'the wildness, force, and energy ofthat tongue, it is impossible to imitate in the Roman poetry.'
'It is, indeed, a great contrast,' said Clodius, ironically at heart,though not in appearance, 'to the old-fashioned and tame simplicity ofthat ode of Horace which we heard before. The air is beautifully Ionic:the word puts me in mind of a toast--Companions, I give you thebeautiful Ione.'
'Ione!--the name is Greek,' said Glaucus, in a soft voice. 'I drink thehealth with delight. But who is Ione?'
'Ah! you have but just come to Pompeii, or you would deserve ostracismfor your ignorance,' said Lepidus, conceitedly; 'not to know Ione, isnot to know the chief charm of our city.'
'She is of the most rare beauty,' said Pansa; 'and what a voice!'
'She can feed only on nightingales' tongues,' said Clodius.
'Nightingales' tongues!--beautiful thought!' sighed the umbra.
'Enlighten me, I beseech you,' said Glaucus.
'Know then...' began Lepidus.
'Let me speak,' cried Clodius; 'you drawl out your words as if you spoketortoises.'
'And you speak stones,' muttered the coxcomb to himself, as he fell backdisdainfully on his couch.
'Know then, my Glaucus,' said Clodius, 'that Ione is a stranger who hasbut lately come to Pompeii. She sings like Sappho, and her songs areher own composing; and as for the tibia, and the cithara, and the lyre,I know not in which she most outdoes the Muses. Her beauty is mostdazzling. Her house is perfect; such taste--such gems--such bronzes!She is rich, and generous as she is rich.'
'Her lovers, of course,' said Glaucus, 'take care that she does notstarve; and money lightly won is always lavishly spent.'
'Her lovers--ah, there is the enigma!--Ione has but one vice--she ischaste. She has all Pompeii at her feet, and she has no lovers: she willnot even marry.'
'No lovers!' echoed Glaucus.
'No; she has the soul of Vestal with the girdle of Venus.'
'What refined expressions!' said the umbra.
'A miracle!' cried Glaucus. 'Can we not see her?'
'I will take you there this evening, said Clodius; 'meanwhile...' addedhe, once more rattling the dice.
'I am yours!' said the complaisant Glaucus. 'Pansa, turn your face!'
Lepidus and Sallust played at odd and even, and the umbra looked on,while Glaucus and Clodius became gradually absorbed in the chances ofthe dice.
'By Pollux!' cried Glaucus, 'this is the second time I have thrown thecaniculae' (the lowest throw).
'Now Venus befriend me!' said Clodius, rattling the box for severalmoments. 'O Alma Venus--it is Venus herself!' as he threw the highestcast, named from that goddess--whom he who wins money, indeed, usuallypropitiates!
'Venus is ungrateful to me,' said Glaucus, gaily; 'I have alwayssacrificed on her altar.'
'He who plays with Clodius,' whispered Lepidus, 'will soon, likePlautus's Curculio, put his pallium for the stakes.'
'Poor Glaucus!--he is as blind as Fortune herself,' replied Sallust, inthe same tone.
'I will play no more,' said Glaucus; 'I have lost thirty sestertia.'
'I am sorry...' began Clodius.
'Amiable man!' groaned the umbra.
'Not at all!' exclaimed Glaucus; 'the pleasure I take in your gaincompensates the pain of my loss.'
The conversation now grew general and animated; the wine circulated morefreely; and Ione once more became the subject of eulogy to the guests ofGlaucus.
'Instead of outwatching the stars, let us visit one at whose beauty thestars grow pale,' said Lepidus.
Clodius, who saw no chance of renewing the dice, seconded the proposal;and Glaucus, though he civilly pressed his guests to continue thebanquet, could not but let them see that his curiosity had been excitedby the praises of Ione: they therefore resolved to adjourn (all, atleast, but Pansa and the umbra) to the house of the fair Greek. Theydrank, therefore, to the health of Glaucus and of Titus--they performedtheir last libation--they r
esumed their slippers--they descended thestairs--passed the illumined atrium--and walking unbitten over thefierce dog painted on the threshold, found themselves beneath the lightof the moon just risen, in the lively and still crowded streets ofPompeii.
They passed the jewellers' quarter, sparkling with lights, caught andreflected by the gems displayed in the shops, and arrived at last at thedoor of Ione. The vestibule blazed with rows of lamps; curtains ofembroidered purple hung on either aperture of the tablinum, whose wallsand mosaic pavement glowed with the richest colors of the artist; andunder the portico which surrounded the odorous viridarium they foundIone, already surrounded by adoring and applauding guests!
'Did you say she was Athenian?' whispered Glaucus, ere he passed intothe peristyle.
'No, she is from Neapolis.'
'Neapolis!' echoed Glaucus; and at that moment the group, dividing oneither side of Ione, gave to his view that bright, that nymph-likebeauty, which for months had shone down upon the waters of his memory.
The Last Days of Pompeii Page 3