VII
AN ICONOCLAST
It was daybreak of a March morning in the year of Christ 92. Outside thelong Semita Alta was already thronged with people, with buyers andsellers, callers and strollers, for the Romans were so early-rising apeople that many a Patrician preferred to see his clients at six in themorning. Such was the good republican tradition, still upheld by themore conservative; but with more modern habits of luxury, a night ofpleasure and banqueting was no uncommon thing. Thus one, who had learnedthe new and yet adhered to the old, might find his hours overlap, andwithout so much as a pretence of sleep come straight from his night ofdebauch into his day of business, turning with heavy wits and an achinghead to that round of formal duties which consumed the life of a Romangentleman.
So it was with Emilius Flaccus that March morning. He and his fellowsenator, Caius Balbus, had passed the night in one of those gloomydrinking bouts to which the Emperor Domitian summoned his chosen friendsat the high palace on the Palatine. Now, having reached the portals ofthe house of Flaccus, they stood together under the pomegranate-fringedportico which fronted the peristyle and, confident in each other's trieddiscretion, made up by the freedom of their criticism for the longself-suppression of that melancholy feast.
"If he would but feed his guests," said Balbus, a little red-faced,choleric nobleman with yellow-shot angry eyes. "What had we? Upon mylife, I have forgotten. Plovers' eggs, a mess of fish, some bird orother, and then his eternal apples."
"Of which," said Flaccus, "he ate only the apples. Do him the justice toconfess that he takes even less than he gives. At least they cannot sayof him as of Vitellius, that his teeth beggared the empire."
"No, nor his thirst either, great as it is. That fiery Sabine wine ofhis could be had for a few sesterces the amphora. It is the common drinkof the carters at every wine-house on the country roads. I longed for aglass of my own rich Falernian or the mellow Coan that was bottled inthe year that Titus took Jerusalem. Is it even now too late? Could wenot wash this rasping stuff from our palates?"
"Nay, better come in with me now and take a bitter draught ere you goupon your way. My Greek physician Stephanos has a rare prescription fora morning head. What! Your clients await you? Well, I will see you laterat the Senate house."
The Patrician had entered his atrium, bright with rare flowers, andmelodious with strange singing birds. At the jaws of the hall, true tohis morning duties, stood Lebs, the little Nubian slave, with snow-whitetunic and turban, a salver of glasses in one hand, whilst in the otherhe held a flask of thin lemon-tinted liquid. The master of the housefilled up a bitter aromatic bumper, and was about to drink it off whenhis hand was arrested by a sudden perception that something was muchamiss in his household. It was to be read all around him--in thefrightened eyes of the black boy, in the agitated face of the keeper ofthe atrium, in the gloom and silence of the little knot of ordinarii,the procurator or major-domo at their head, who had assembled to greettheir master. Stephanos the physician, Cleios the Alexandrine reader,Promus the steward each turned his head away to avoid his master'squestioning gaze.
"What in the name of Pluto is the matter with you all?" cried the amazedsenator, whose night of potations had left him in no mood for patience."Why do you stand moping there? Stephanos, Vacculus, is anything amiss?Here, Promus, you are the head of my household. What is it, then? Why doyou turn your eyes away from me?"
The burly steward, whose fat face was haggard and mottled with anxiety,laid his hand upon the sleeve of the domestic beside him.
"Sergius is responsible for the atrium, my lord. It is for him to tellyou the terrible thing that has befallen in your absence."
"Nay, it was Datus who did it. Bring him in, and let him explain ithimself," said Sergius in a sulky voice.
The patience of the Patrician was at an end. "Speak this instant, yourascal!" he shouted angrily. "Another minute, and I will have youdragged to the ergastulum, where, with your feet in the stocks and thegyves round your wrists, you may learn quicker obedience. Speak, I say,and without delay."
"It is the Venus," the man stammered; "the Greek Venus of Praxiteles."
The senator gave a cry of apprehension and rushed to the corner of theatrium, where a little shrine, curtained off by silken drapery, held theprecious statue, the greatest art treasure of his collection--perhaps ofthe whole world. He tore the hangings aside and stood in speechlessanger before the outraged goddess. The red, perfumed lamp which alwaysburned before her had been spilled and broken; her altar fire had beenquenched, her chaplet had been dashed aside. But worst ofall--insufferable sacrilege!--her own beautiful nude body of glisteningPentelic marble, as white and fair as when the inspired Greek had hewedit out five hundred years before, had been most brutally mishandled.Three fingers of the gracious outstretched hand had been struck off, andlay upon the pedestal beside her. Above her delicate breast a dark markshowed, where a blow had disfigured the marble. Emilius Flaccus, themost delicate and judicious connoisseur in Rome, stood gasping andcroaking, his hand to his throat, as he gazed at his disfiguredmasterpiece. Then he turned upon his slaves, his fury in his convulsedface; but, to his amazement, they were not looking at him, but had allturned in attitudes of deep respect towards the opening of theperistyle. As he faced round and saw who had just entered his house, hisown rage fell away from him in an instant, and his manner became ashumble as that of his servants.
The new-comer was a man forty-three years of age, clean shaven, with amassive head, large engorged eyes, a small clear-cut nose, and the fullbull neck which was the especial mark of his breed. He had enteredthrough the peristyle with a swaggering, rolling gait, as one who walksupon his own ground, and now he stood, his hands upon his hips, lookinground him at the bowing slaves, and finally at their master, with ahalf-humorous expression upon his flushed and brutal face.
"Why, Emilius," said he, "I had understood that your household was thebest-ordered in Rome. What is amiss with you this morning?"
"Nothing could be amiss with us now that Caesar has deigned to come undermy roof," said the courtier. "This is indeed a most glad surprise whichyou have prepared for me."
"It was an afterthought," said Domitian. "When you and the others hadleft me, I was in no mood for sleep, and so it came into my mind that Iwould have a breath of morning air by coming down to you, and seeingthis Grecian Venus of yours, about which you discoursed so eloquentlybetween the cups. But, indeed, by your appearance and that of yourservants, I should judge that my visit was an ill-timed one."
"Nay, dear master; say not so. But, indeed, it is truth that I was introuble at the moment of your welcome entrance, and this trouble was, asthe Fates have willed it, brought forth by that very statue in which youhave been graciously pleased to show your interest. There it stands, andyou can see for yourself how rudely it has been mishandled."
"By Pluto and all the nether gods, if it were mine some of you shouldfeed the lampreys," said the Emperor, looking round with his fierceeyes at the shrinking slaves. "You were always overmerciful, Emilius. Itis the common talk that your catenae are rusted for want of use. Butsurely this is beyond all bounds. Let me see how you handle the matter.Whom do you hold responsible?"
"The slave Sergius is responsible, since it is his place to tend theatrium," said Flaccus. "Stand forward, Sergius. What have you to say?"
The trembling slave advanced to his master. "If it please you, sir, themischief has been done by Datus the Christian."
"Datus! Who is he?"
"The matulator, the scavenger, my lord. I did not know that he belongedto these horrible people, or I should not have admitted him. He camewith his broom to brush out the litter of the birds. His eyes fell uponthe Venus, and in an instant he had rushed upon her and struck her twoblows with his wooden besom. Then we fell upon him and dragged him away.But alas! alas! it was too late, for already the wretch had dashed offthe fingers of the goddess."
The Emperor smiled grimly, while the Patrician's thin face grew palewith anger.
> "Where is the fellow?" he asked.
"In the ergastulum, your honour, with the furca on his neck."
"Bring him hither and summon the household."
A few minutes later the whole back of the atrium was thronged by themotley crowd who ministered to the household needs of a great Romannobleman. There was the arcarius, or account keeper, with his stylumbehind his ear; the sleek praegustator, who sampled all foods, so as tostand between his master and poison, and beside him his predecessor, nowa half-witted idiot through the interception twenty years before of adatura draught from Canidia; the cellar-man, summoned from amongst hisamphorae; the cook, with his basting-ladle in his hand; the pompousnomenclator, who ushered the guests; the cubicularius, who saw to theiraccommodation; the silentiarius, who kept order in the house; thestructor, who set forth the tables; the carptor, who carved the food;the cinerarius, who lit the fires--these and many more, half-curious,half-terrified, came to the judging of Datus. Behind them a chattering,giggling swarm of Lalages, Marias, Cerusas, and Amaryllides, from thelaundries and the spinning-rooms, stood upon their tiptoes, and extendedtheir pretty wondering faces over the shoulders of the men. Through thiscrowd came two stout varlets leading the culprit between them. He was asmall, dark, rough-headed man, with an unkempt beard and wild eyes whichshone brightly with strong inward emotion. His hands were bound behindhim, and over his neck was the heavy wooden collar or furca which wasplaced upon refractory slaves. A smear of blood across his cheek showedthat he had not come uninjured from the preceding scuffle.
"Are you Datus the scavenger?" asked the Patrician.
The man drew himself up proudly. "Yes," said he, "I am Datus."
"Did you do this injury to my statue?"
"Yes, I did."
There was an uncompromising boldness in the man's reply which compelledrespect. The wrath of his master became tinged with interest.
"Why did you do this?" he asked.
"Because it was my duty."
"Why, then, was it your duty to destroy your master's property?"
"Because I am a Christian." His eyes blazed suddenly out of his darkface. "Because there is no God but the one eternal, and all else aresticks and stones. What has this naked harlot to do with Him to whom thegreat firmament is but a garment and the earth a footstool? It was inHis service that I have broken your statue."
Domitian looked with a smile at the Patrician. "You will make nothing ofhim," said he. "They speak even so when they stand before the lions inthe arena. As to argument, not all the philosophers of Rome can breakthem down. Before my very face they refuse to sacrifice in my honour.Never were such impossible people to deal with. I should take a shortway with him if I were you."
"What would Caesar advise?"
"There are the games this afternoon. I am showing the newhunting-leopard which King Juba has sent from Numidia. This slave maygive us some sport when he finds the hungry beast sniffing at hisheels."
The Patrician considered for a moment. He had always been a father tohis servants. It was hateful to him to think of any injury befallingthem. Perhaps even now, if this strange fanatic would show his sorrowfor what he had done, it might be possible to spare him. At least it wasworth trying.
"Your offence deserves death," he said. "What reasons can you give whyit should not befall you, since you have injured this statue, which isworth your own price a hundred times over?"
The slave looked steadfastly at his master. "I do not fear death," hesaid. "My sister Candida died in the arena, and I am ready to do thesame. It is true that I have injured your statue, but I am able to findyou something of far greater value in exchange. I will give you thetruth and the gospel in exchange for your broken idol."
The Emperor laughed. "You will do nothing with him, Emilius," he said."I know his breed of old. He is ready to die; he says so himself. Whysave him, then?"
But the Patrician still hesitated. He would make a last effort.
"Throw off his bonds," he said to the guards. "Now take the furca offhis neck. So! Now, Datus, I have released you to show you that I trustyou. I have no wish to do you any hurt if you will but acknowledge yourerror, and so set a better example to my household here assembled."
"How, then, shall I acknowledge my error?" the slave asked.
"Bow your head before the goddess, and entreat her forgiveness for theviolence you have done her. Then perhaps you may gain my pardon aswell."
"Put me, then, before her," said the Christian.
Emilius Flaccus looked triumphantly at Domitian. By kindness and tact hewas effecting that which the Emperor had failed to do by violence. Datuswalked in front of the mutilated Venus. Then with a sudden spring hetore the baton out of the hand of one of his guardians, leaped upon thepedestal, and showered his blows upon the lovely marble woman. With acrack and a dull thud her right arm dropped to the ground. Anotherfierce blow and the left had followed. Flaccus danced and screamed withhorror, while his servants dragged the raving iconoclast from hisimpassive victim. Domitian's brutal laughter echoed through the hall.
"Well, friend, what think you now?" he cried. "Are you wiser than yourEmperor? Can you indeed tame your Christian with kindness?"
Emilius Flaccus wiped the sweat from his brow. "He is yours, greatCaesar. Do with him as you will."
"Let him be at the gladiators' entrance of the circus an hour before thegames begin," said the Emperor. "Now, Emilius, the night has been amerry one. My Ligurian galley waits by the river quay. Come, cool yourhead with a spin to Ostia ere the business of State calls you to theSenate."
The Last of the Legions and Other Tales of Long Ago Page 7