Chapter VII
IN WHICH THE READER LEARNS THE CONDITION OF GLAUCUS. FRIENDSHIP TESTED.ENMITY SOFTENED. LOVE THE SAME, BECAUSE THE ONE LOVING IS BLIND.
THE night was somewhat advanced, and the gay lounging places of thePompeians were still crowded. You might observe in the countenances ofthe various idlers a more earnest expression than usual. They talked inlarge knots and groups, as if they sought by numbers to divide thehalf-painful, half-pleasurable anxiety which belonged to the subjecton which they conversed: it was a subject of life and death.
A young man passed briskly by the graceful portico of the Temple ofFortune--so briskly, indeed, that he came with no slight force fullagainst the rotund and comely form of that respectable citizen Diomed,who was retiring homeward to his suburban villa.
'Holloa!' groaned the merchant, recovering with some difficulty hisequilibrium; 'have you no eyes? or do you think I have no feeling? ByJupiter! you have well nigh driven out the divine particle; such anothershock, and my soul will be in Hades!'
'Ah, Diomed! is it you? forgive my inadvertence. I was absorbed inthinking of the reverses of life. Our poor friend, Glaucus, eh! whocould have guessed it?'
'Well, but tell me, Clodius, is he really to be tried by the senate?'
'Yes; they say the crime is of so extraordinary a nature that the senateitself must adjudge it; and so the lictors are to induct him formally.'
'He has been accused publicly, then?'
'To be sure; where have you been not to hear that?'
'Why, I have only just returned from Neapolis, whither I went onbusiness the very morning after his crime--so shocking, and at my housethe same night that it happened!'
'There is no doubt of his guilt,' said Clodius, shrugging his shoulders;'and as these crimes take precedence of all little undignifiedpeccadilloes, they will hasten to finish the sentence previous to thegames.'
'The games! Good gods!' replied Diomed, with a slight shudder: 'canthey adjudge him to the beasts?--so young, so rich!'
'True; but then he is a Greek. Had he been a Roman, it would have beena thousand pities. These foreigners can be borne with in theirprosperity; but in adversity we must not forget that they are in realityslaves. However, we of the upper classes are always tender-hearted; andhe would certainly get off tolerably well if he were left to us: for,between ourselves, what is a paltry priest of Isis!--what Isis herself?But the common people are superstitious; they clamor for the blood ofthe sacrilegious one. It is dangerous not to give way to publicopinion.'
'And the blasphemer--the Christian, or Nazarene, or whatever else he becalled?'
'Oh, poor dog! if he will sacrifice to Cybele or Isis, he will bepardoned--if not, the tiger has him. At least, so I suppose; but thetrial will decide. We talk while the urn's still empty. And the Greekmay yet escape the deadly Theta of his own alphabet. But enough of thisgloomy subject. How is the fair Julia?'
'Well, I fancy.'
'Commend me to her. But hark! the door yonder creaks on its hinges; itis the house of the praetor. Who comes forth? By Pollux! it is theEgyptian! What can he want with our official friend!'
'Some conference touching the murder, doubtless,' replied Diomed; 'butwhat was supposed to be the inducement to the crime? Glaucus was to havemarried the priest's sister.'
'Yes: some say Apaecides refused the alliance. It might have been asudden quarrel. Glaucus was evidently drunk--nay, so much so as tohave been quite insensible when taken up, and I hear is stilldelirious--whether with wine, terror, remorse, the Furies, or theBacchanals, I cannot say.'
'Poor fellow!--he has good counsel?'
'The best--Caius Pollio, an eloquent fellow enough. Pollio has beenhiring all the poor gentlemen and well-born spendthrifts of Pompeii todress shabbily and sneak about, swearing their friendship to Glaucus(who would not have spoken to them to be made emperor!--I will do himjustice, he was a gentleman in his choice of acquaintance), and tryingto melt the stony citizens into pity. But it will not do; Isis ismightily popular just at this moment.'
'And, by-the-by, I have some merchandise at Alexandria. Yes, Isis oughtto be protected.'
'True; so farewell, old gentleman: we shall meet soon; if not, we musthave a friendly bet at the Amphitheatre. All my calculations areconfounded by this cursed misfortune of Glaucus! He had bet on Lydonthe gladiator; I must make up my tablets elsewhere. Vale!'
Leaving the less active Diomed to regain his villa, Clodius strode on,humming a Greek air, and perfuming the night with the odorous thatsteamed from his snowy garments and flowing locks.
'If,' thought he, 'Glaucus feed the lion, Julia will no longer have aperson to love better than me; she will certainly doat on me--and so, Isuppose, I must marry. By the gods! the twelve lines begin to fail--menlook suspiciously at my hand when it rattles the dice. That infernalSallust insinuates cheating; and if it be discovered that the ivory isclogged, why farewell to the merry supper and the perfumedbillet--Clodius is undone! Better marry, then, while I may, renouncegaming, and push my fortune (or rather the gentle Julia's) at theimperial court.'
Thus muttering the schemes of his ambition, if by that high name theprojects of Clodius may be called, the gamester found himself suddenlyaccosted; he turned and beheld the dark brow of Arbaces.
'Hail, noble Clodius! pardon my interruption; and inform me, I pray you,which is the house of Sallust?'
'It is but a few yards hence, wise Arbaces. But does Sallust entertainto-night?'
'I know not,' answered the Egyptian; 'nor am I, perhaps, one of thosewhom he would seek as a boon companion. But thou knowest that his households the person of Glaucus, the murderer.'
'Ay! he, good-hearted epicure, believes in the Greek's innocence! Youremind me that he has become his surety; and, therefore, till the trial,is responsible for his appearance.' Well, Sallust's house is better thana prison, especially that wretched hole in the forum. But for what canyou seek Glaucus?'
'Why, noble Clodius, if we could save him from execution it would bewell. The condemnation of the rich is a blow upon society itself. Ishould like to confer with him--for I hear he has recovered hissenses--and ascertain the motives of his crime; they may be soextenuating as to plead in his defence.'
'You are benevolent, Arbaces.'
'Benevolence is the duty of one who aspires to wisdom,' replied theEgyptian, modestly. 'Which way lies Sallust's mansion?'
'I will show you,' said Clodius, 'if you will suffer me to accompany youa few steps. But, pray what has become of the poor girl who was to havewed the Athenian--the sister of the murdered priest?'
'Alas! well-nigh insane! Sometimes she utters imprecations on themurderer--then suddenly stops short--then cries, "But why curse? Oh, mybrother! Glaucus was not thy murderer--never will I believe it!" Thenshe begins again, and again stops short, and mutters awfully to herself,"Yet if it were indeed he?"'
'Unfortunate Ione!'
'But it is well for her that those solemn cares to the dead whichreligion enjoins have hitherto greatly absorbed her attention fromGlaucus and herself: and, in the dimness of her senses, she scarcelyseems aware that Glaucus is apprehended and on the eve of trial. Whenthe funeral rites due to Apaecides are performed, her apprehension willreturn; and then I fear me much that her friends will be revolted byseeing her run to succour and aid the murderer of her brother!'
'Such scandal should be prevented.'
'I trust I have taken precautions to that effect. I am her lawfulguardian, and have just succeeded in obtaining permission to escort her,after the funeral of Apaecides, to my own house; there, please the gods!she will be secure.'
'You have done well, sage Arbaces. And, now, yonder is the house ofSallust. The gods keep you! Yet, hark you, Arbaces--why so gloomy andunsocial? Men say you can be gay--why not let me initiate you into thepleasures of Pompeii?--I flatter myself no one knows them better.'
'I thank you, noble Clodius: under your auspices I might venture, Ithink, to wear the philyra: but,
at my age, I should be an awkwardpupil.'
'Oh, never fear; I have made converts of fellows of seventy. The rich,too, are never old.'
'You flatter me. At some future time I will remind you of yourpromise.'
'You may command Marcus Clodius at all times--and so, vale!'
'Now,' said the Egyptian, soliloquising, 'I am not wantonly a man ofblood; I would willingly save this Greek, if, by confessing the crime,he will lose himself for ever to Ione, and for ever free me from thechance of discovery; and I can save him by persuading Julia to own thephiltre, which will be held his excuse. But if he do not confess thecrime, why, Julia must be shamed from the confession, and he mustdie!--die, lest he prove my rival with the living--die, that he may bemy proxy with the dead! Will he confess?--can he not be persuaded thatin his delirium he struck the blow? To me it would give far greatersafety than even his death. Hem! we must hazard the experiment.'
Sweeping along the narrow street, Arbaces now approached the house ofSallust, when he beheld a dark form wrapped in a cloak, and stretched atlength across the threshold of the door.
So still lay the figure, and so dim was its outline, that any other thanArbaces might have felt a superstitious fear, lest he beheld one ofthose grim lemures, who, above all other spots, haunted the threshold ofthe homes they formerly possessed. But not for Arbaces were suchdreams.
'Rise!' said he, touching the figure with his foot; 'thou obstructestthe way!'
'Ha! who art thou cried the form, in a sharp tone, and as she raisedherself from the ground, the starlight fell full on the pale face andfixed but sightless eyes of Nydia the Thessalian. 'Who art thou? Iknow the burden of thy voice.'
'Blind girl! what dost thou here at this late hour? Fie!--is thisseeming thy sex or years? Home, girl!'
'I know thee,' said Nydia, in a low voice, 'thou art Arbaces theEgyptian': then, as if inspired by some sudden impulse, she flungherself at his feet, and clasping his knees, exclaimed, in a wild andpassionate tone, 'Oh dread and potent man! save him--save him! He is notguilty--it is I! He lies within, ill-dying, and I--I am the hatefulcause! And they will not admit me to him--they spurn the blind girlfrom the hall. Oh, heal him! thou knowest some herb--some spell--somecountercharm, for it is a potion that hath wrought this frenzy!
'Hush, child! I know all!--thou forgettest that I accompanied Julia tothe saga's home. Doubtless her hand administered the draught; but herreputation demands thy silence. Reproach not thyself--what must be,must: meanwhile, I seek the criminal--he may yet be saved. Away!'
Thus saying, Arbaces extricated himself from the clasp of the despairingThessalian, and knocked loudly at the door.
In a few moments the heavy bars were heard suddenly to yield, and theporter, half opening the door, demanded who was there.
'Arbaces--important business to Sallust relative to Glaucus. I comefrom the praetor.'
The porter, half yawning, half groaning, admitted the tall form of theEgyptian. Nydia sprang forward. 'How is he?' she cried; 'tell me--tellme!'
'Ho, mad girl! is it thou still?--for shame! Why, they say he issensible.'
'The gods be praised!--and you will not admit me? Ah! I beseechthee...'
'Admit thee!--no. A pretty salute I should prepare for these shoulderswere I to admit such things as thou! Go home!'
The door closed, and Nydia, with a deep sigh, laid herself down oncemore on the cold stones; and, wrapping her cloak round her face, resumedher weary vigil.
Meanwhile Arbaces had already gained the triclinium, where Sallust, withhis favorite freedman, sat late at supper.
'What! Arbaces! and at this hour!--Accept this cup.'
'Nay, gentle Sallust; it is on business, not pleasure, that I venture todisturb thee. How doth thy charge?--they say in the town that he hasrecovered sense.'
'Alas! and truly,' replied the good-natured but thoughtless Sallust,wiping the tear from his eyes; 'but so shattered are his nerves andframe that I scarcely recognize the brilliant and gay carouser I waswont to know. Yet, strange to say, he cannot account for the cause ofthe sudden frenzy that seized him--he retains but a dim consciousness ofwhat hath passed; and, despite thy witness, wise Egyptian, solemnlyupholds his innocence of the death of Apaecides.'
'Sallust,' said Arbaces, gravely, 'there is much in thy friend's casethat merits a peculiar indulgence; and could we learn from his lips theconfession and the cause of his crime, much might be yet hoped from themercy of the senate; for the senate, thou knowest, hath the power eitherto mitigate or to sharpen the law. Therefore it is that I haveconferred with the highest authority of the city, and obtained hispermission to hold a private conference this night with the Athenian.Tomorrow, thou knowest, the trial comes on.'
'Well,' said Sallust, 'thou wilt be worthy of thy Eastern name and fameif thou canst learn aught from him; but thou mayst try. PoorGlaucus!--and he had such an excellent appetite! He eats nothing now!'
The benevolent epicure was moved sensibly at this thought. He sighed,and ordered his slaves to refill his cup.
'Night wanes,' said the Egyptian; 'suffer me to see thy ward now.'
Sallust nodded assent, and led the way to a small chamber, guardedwithout by two dozing slaves. The door opened; at the request ofArbaces, Sallust withdrew--the Egyptian was alone with Glaucus.
One of those tall and graceful candelabra common to that day, supportinga single lamp, burned beside the narrow bed. Its rays fell palely overthe face of the Athenian, and Arbaces was moved to see how sensibly thatcountenance had changed. The rich color was gone, the cheek was sunk,the lips were convulsed and pallid; fierce had been the struggle betweenreason and madness, life and death. The youth, the strength of Glaucushad conquered; but the freshness of blood and soul--the life oflife--its glory and its zest, were gone for ever.
The Egyptian seated himself quietly beside the bed; Glaucus still laymute and unconscious of his presence. At length, after a considerablepause, Arbaces thus spoke:
'Glaucus, we have been enemies. I come to thee alone and in the dead ofnight--thy friend, perhaps thy saviour.'
As the steed starts from the path of the tiger, Glaucus sprang upbreathless--alarmed, panting at the abrupt voice, the sudden apparitionof his foe. Their eyes met, and neither, for some moments, had power towithdraw his gaze. The flush went and came over the face of theAthenian, and the bronzed cheek of the Egyptian grew a shade more pale.At length, with an inward groan, Glaucus turned away, drew his handacross his brow, sunk back, and muttered:
'Am I still dreaming?'
'No, Glaucus thou art awake. By this right hand and my father's head,thou seest one who may save thy life. Hark! I know what thou hast done,but I know also its excuse, of which thou thyself art ignorant. Thouhast committed murder, it is true--a sacrilegious murder--frownnot--start not--these eyes saw it. But I can save thee--I can prove howthou wert bereaved of sense, and made not a free-thinking andfree-acting man. But in order to save thee, thou must confess thy crime.Sign but this paper, acknowledging thy hand in the death of Apaecides,and thou shalt avoid the fatal urn.'
'What words are these?--Murder and Apaecides!--Did I not see himstretched on the ground bleeding and a corpse? and wouldst thou persuademe that I did the deed? Man, thou liest! Away!'
'Be not rash--Glaucus, be not hasty; the deed is proved. Come, come,thou mayst well be excused for not recalling the act of thy delirium,and which thy sober senses would have shunned even to contemplate. Butlet me try to refresh thy exhausted and weary memory. Thou knowest thouwert walking with the priest, disputing about his sister; thou knowesthe was intolerant, and half a Nazarene, and he sought to convert thee,and ye had hot words; and he calumniated thy mode of life, and swore hewould not marry Ione to thee--and then, in thy wrath and thy frenzy,thou didst strike the sudden blow. Come, come; you can recollectthis!--read this papyrus, it runs to that effect--sign it, and thouart saved.'
'Barbarian, give me the written lie, that I may tear it! I the murdererof Ione's
brother: I confess to have injured one hair of the head of himshe loved! Let me rather perish a thousand times!'
'Beware!' said Arbaces, in a low and hissing tone; 'there is but onechoice--thy confession and thy signature, or the amphitheatre and thelion's maw!'
As the Egyptian fixed his eyes upon the sufferer, he hailed with joy thesigns of evident emotion that seized the latter at these words. Aslight shudder passed over the Athenian's frame--his lip fell--anexpression of sudden fear and wonder betrayed itself in his brow andeye.
'Great gods!' he said, in a low voice, 'what reverse is this? It seemsbut a little day since life laughed out from amidst roses--Ionemine--youth, health, love, lavishing on me their treasures; andnow--pain, madness, shame, death! And for what? What have I done?Oh, I am mad still?'
'Sign, and be saved!' said the soft, sweet voice of the Egyptian.
'Tempter, never!' cried Glaucus, in the reaction of rage. 'Thou knowestme not: thou knowest not the haughty soul of an Athenian! The suddenface of death might appal me for a moment, but the fear is over.Dishonour appals for ever! Who will debase his name to save his life?who exchange clear thoughts for sullen days? who will belie himself toshame, and stand blackened in the eyes of love? If to earn a few yearsof polluted life there be so base a coward, dream not, dull barbarian ofEgypt! to find him in one who has trod the same sod as Harmodius, andbreathed the same air as Socrates. Go! leave me to live withoutself-reproach--or to perish without fear!'
'Bethink thee well! the lion's fangs: the hoots of the brutal mob: thevulgar gaze on thy dying agony and mutilated limbs: thy name degraded;thy corpse unburied; the shame thou wouldst avoid clinging to thee foraye and ever!'
'Thou ravest; thou art the madman! shame is not in the loss of othermen's esteem--it is in the loss of our own. Wilt thou go?--my eyesloathe the sight of thee! hating ever, I despise thee now!'
'I go,' said Arbaces, stung and exasperated, but not without somepitying admiration of his victim, 'I go; we meet twice again--once atthe Trial, once at the Death! Farewell!'
The Egyptian rose slowly, gathered his robes about him, and left thechamber. He sought Sallust for a moment, whose eyes began to reel withthe vigils of the cup: 'He is still unconscious, or still obstinate;there is no hope for him.'
'Say not so,' replied Sallust, who felt but little resentment againstthe Athenian's accuser, for he possessed no great austerity of virtue,and was rather moved by his friend's reverses than persuaded of hisinnocence--'say not so, my Egyptian! so good a drinker shall be saved ifpossible. Bacchus against Isis!'
'We shall see,' said the Egyptian.
Suddenly the bolts were again withdrawn--the door unclosed; Arbaces wasin the open street; and poor Nydia once more started from her longwatch.
'Wilt thou save him?' she cried, clasping her hands.
'Child, follow me home; I would speak to thee--it is for his sake I askit.'
'And thou wilt save him?'
No answer came forth to the thirsting ear of the blind girl: Arbaces hadalready proceeded far up the street; she hesitated a moment, and thenfollowed his steps in silence.
'I must secure this girl,' said he, musingly, 'lest she give evidence ofthe philtre; as to the vain Julia, she will not betray herself.'
The Last Days of Pompeii Page 33