A Friend of Cæsar: A Tale of the Fall of the Roman Republic. Time, 50-47 B.C.

by William Stearns Davis

  Chapter III

  The Privilege of a Vestal

  I

  Drusus started long before daybreak on his journey to Rome; with himwent Cappadox, his ever faithful body-servant, and Pausanias, theamiable and cultivated freedman who had been at his elbow ever sincehe had visited Athens. For a while the young master dozed in hiscarriage; but, as they whirled over mile after mile of the Campagna,the sun arose; then, when sleep left him, the Roman was all alive tothe patriotic reminiscences each scene suggested. Yonder to the farsouth lay Alba, the old home of the Latins, and a little southward toowas the Lake of Regillus, where tradition had it the free Romans wontheir first victory, and founded the greatness of the Republic. Alongthe line of the Anio, a few miles north, had marched Hannibal on hismad dash against Rome to save the doomed Capua. And these pictures ofbrave days, and many another vision like them, welled up in Drusus'smind, and the remembrance of the marble temples of the Greek citiesfaded from his memory; for, as he told himself, Rome was built ofnobler stuff than marble;--she was built of the deeds of men strongand brave, and masters of every hostile fate. And he rejoiced that hecould be a Roman, and share in his country's deathless fame, perhapscould win for her new honour,--could be consul, triumphator, and leadhis applauding legions up to the temple of Capitoline Jove--anothernational glory added to so many.

  So the vision of the great city of tall ugly tenement houses, baskingon her "Seven Hills," which only on their summits showed the noblertemples or the dwellings of the great patricians, broke upon him. Andit was with eyes a-sparkle with enthusiasm, and a light heart, that hereached the Porta Esquilina, left the carriage for a litter borne byfour stout Syrians sent out from the house of his late uncle, and wascarried soon into the hubbub of the city streets.

  Everywhere was the same crowd; shopping parties were pressing in andout the stores, outrunners and foot-boys were continually colliding.Drusus's escort could barely win a slow progress for their master.Once on the Sacred Way the advance was more rapid; although even thisfamous street was barely twenty-two feet wide from house wall to housewall. Here was the "Lombard" or "Wall Street" of antiquity. Here werethe offices of the great banking houses and syndicates that held theworld in fee. Here centred those busy equites, the capitalists, whosetransactions ran out even beyond the lands covered by the eagles, sothat while Gaul was yet unconquered, Cicero could boast, "not asesterce in Gaul changes hands without being entered in a Romanledger." And here were brokers whose clients were kings, and who bytheir "influence" almost made peace or war, like modern Rothschilds.

  Thither Drusus's litter carried him, for he knew that his first act oncoming to Rome to take possession of his uncle's property should be toconsult without delay his agent and financial and legal adviser, lestany loophole be left for a disappointed fortune-hunter to contest thewill. The bearers put him down before the important firm of Flaccusand Sophus. Out from the open, windowless office ran the seniorpartner, Sextus Fulvius Flaccus, a stout, comfortable, rosy-faced oldeques, who had half Rome as his financial clients, the other half inhis debt. Many were his congratulations upon Drusus's manly growth,and many more upon the windfall of Vibulanus's fortune, which, as hedeclared, was too securely conveyed to the young man to be open to anylegal attack.

  But when Drusus intimated that he expected soon to invite the good manto his marriage feast, Flaccus shook his head.

  "You will never get a sesterce of Cornelia's dowry," he declared. "Heruncle Lentulus Crus is head over ears in debt. Nothing can save him,unless--"

  "I don't understand you," said the other.

  "Well," continued Flaccus, "to be frank; unless there is nothing shortof a revolution."

  "Will it come to that?" demanded Drusus.

  "Can't say," replied Flaccus, as if himself perplexed. "Everybodydeclares Caesar and Pompeius are dreadfully alienated. Pompeius isjoining the Senate. Half the great men of Rome are in debt, as I havecause to know, and unless we have an overturn, with 'clean accounts'as a result, more than one noble lord is ruined. I am calling in allmy loans, turning everything into cash. Credit is bad--bad. Caesar paidCurio's debts--sixty millions of sesterces.[47] That's why Curio is aCaesarian now. Oh! money is the cause of all these vile politicalchanges! Trouble is coming! Sulla's old throat cuttings will benothing to it! But don't marry Lentulus's niece!"

  [47] I.e. $2,400,000; a sesterce was about 4 cents.

  "Well," said Drusus, when the business was done, and he turned to go,"I want Cornelia, not her dowry."

  "Strange fellow," muttered Flaccus, while Drusus started off in hislitter. "I always consider the dowry the principal part of amarriage."

  II

  Drusus regained his litter, and ordered his bearers to take him to thehouse of the Vestals,--back of the Temple of Vesta,--where he wishedto see his aunt Fabia and Livia, his little half-sister. The Templeitself--a small, round structure, with columns, a conical roof whichwas fringed about with dragons and surmounted by a statue--stillshowed signs of the fire, which, in 210 B.C., would have destroyed itbut for thirteen slaves, who won their liberty by checking the blaze.Tradition had it that here the holy Numa had built the hut whichcontained the hearth-fire of Rome,--the divine spark which now shedits radiance over the nations. Back of the Temple was the House of theVestals, a structure with a plain exterior, differing little from theordinary private dwellings. Here Drusus had his litter set down for asecond time, and notified the porter that he would be glad to see hisaunt and sister. The young man was ushered into a spacious, handsomelyfurnished and decorated atrium, where were arranged lines of statuesof the various _maximae_[48] of the little religious order. A shy younggirl with a white dress and fillet, who was reading in the apartment,slipped noiselessly out, as the young man entered; for the noviceswere kept under strict control, with few liberties, until their eldersisters could trust them in male society. Then there was a rustle ofrobes and ribbons, and in came a tall, stately lady, also in purewhite, and a little girl of about five, who shrank coyly back whenDrusus called her his "Liviola"[49] and tried to catch her in hisarms. But the lady embraced him, and kissed him, and asked a thousandthings about him, as tenderly as if she had been his mother.

  [48] Senior Vestals.

  [49] A diminutive of endearment.

  Fabia the Vestal was now about thirty-seven years of age. One andthirty years before had the Pontifex Maximus chosen her out--a littlegirl--to become the priestess of Vesta, the hearth-goddess, thehome-goddess of Pagan Rome. Fabia had dwelt almost all her life in thehouse of the Vestals. Her very existence had become identified withthe little sisterhood, which she and her five associates composed. Itwas a rather isolated yet singularly pure and peaceful life which shehad led. Revolutions might rock the city and Empire; Marians andSullians contend; Catilina plot ruin and destruction; Clodius and hisruffians terrorize the streets; but the fire of the greathearth-goddess was never scattered, nor were its gentle ministersmolested. Fabia had thus grown to mature womanhood. Ten years she hadspent in learning the Temple ritual, ten years in performing theactual duties of the sacred fire and its cultus, ten years in teachingthe young novices. And now she was free, if she chose, to leave theTemple service, and even to marry. But Fabia had no intention oftaking a step which would tear her from the circle in which she wasdearly loved, and which, though permitted by law, would be publiclydeplored as an evil omen.

  The Vestal's pure simple life had left its impress on her features.Peace and innocent delight in innocent things shone through her darkeyes and soft, well-rounded face. Her light brown hair was covered andconfined by a fillet of white wool.[50] She wore a stola and outergarment of stainless white linen--the perfectly plain badge of herchaste and holy office; while on her small feet were dainty sandals,bound on by thongs of whitened leather. Everything about her dress andfeatures betokened the priestess of a gentle religion.

  [50] _Infula_.

  When questions and repeated salutations were over, and Livia hadceased to be too afraid of her quite strange br
other, Fabia asked whatshe could do for her nephew. As one of the senior Vestals, her timewas quite her own. "Would he like to have her go out with him to visitfriends, or go shopping? Or could she do anything to aid him aboutordering frescoers and carpenters for the old Praeneste villa?"

  This last was precisely what Drusus had had in mind. And so forth auntand nephew sallied. Some of the streets they visited were so narrowthat they had to send back even their litters; but everywhere thecrowds bowed such deference and respect to the Vestal's white robesthat their progress was easy. Drusus soon had given his orders tocabinet-makers and selected the frescoer's designs. It remained topurchase Cornelia's slave-boy. He wanted not merely an attractiveserving-lad, but one whose intelligence and probity could be reliedupon; and in the dealers' stalls not one of the dark orientals,although all had around their necks tablets with long lists ofencomiums, promised conscience or character. Drusus visited, severalvery choice boys that were exhibited in separate rooms, at fancyprices, but none of these pretty Greeks or Asiatics seemed promising.

  Deeply disgusted, he led Fabia away from the slave-market.

  "I will try to-morrow," he said, vexed at his defeat. "I need a newtoga. Let us go to the shop on the Clivus Suburanus; there used to bea good woollen merchant, Lucius Marius, on the way to the PortaEsquilina."

  Accordingly the two went on in the direction indicated; but at thespot where the Clivus Suburanus was cut by the Vicus Longus, there wasso dense a crowd and so loud a hubbub, that their attendants could notclear a way. For a time it was impossible to see what was the matter.Street gamins were howling, and idle slaves and hucksters were pouringforth volleys of taunts and derision at some luckless wight.

  "Away with them! the whip-scoundrel! _Verbero!_"[51] yelled a lustyproduce-vender. "Lash him again! Tan his hide for him! Don't you enjoyit? Not accustomed to such rough handling, eh! my pretty sparrow?"

  [51] A coarse epithet.

  Fabia without the least hesitation thrust herself into thedirty-robed, foul-mouthed crowd. At sight of the Vestal's white dressand fillets the pack gave way before her, as a swarm of gnats at thewave of a hand. Drusus strode at her heels.

  It was a sorry enough sight that met them--though not uncommon in theage and place. Some wretched slave-boy, a slight, delicate fellow, hadbeen bound to the bars of a furca, and was being driven by two brutalexecutioners to the place of doom outside the gates. At thestreet-crossing he had sunk down, and all the blows of the driver'sscourge could not compel him to arise. He lay in the dust, writhingand moaning, with the great welts showing on his bare back, where thebrass knots of the lash had stripped away the cloth.

  "Release this boy! Cease to beat him!" cried Fabia, with a commandingmien, that made the crowd shrink further back; while the twoexecutioners looked stupid and sheepish, but did nothing.

  "Release this boy!" commanded the Vestal. "Dare you hesitate? Do youwish to undo yourselves by defying me?"

  "Mercy, august lady," cried Alfidius,--for the chief executioner washe,--with a supplicatory gesture. "If our mistress knows that hercommands are unexecuted, it is we, who are but slaves, that mustsuffer!"

  "Who is your mistress?" demanded Fabia.

  "Valeria, wife of Lucius Calatinus."

  "Livia's precious mother!" whispered Drusus. "I can imagine her doinga thing like this." Then aloud, "What has the boy done?"

  "He dropped a murrhine vase," was the answer.

  "And so he must be beaten to death!" exclaimed the young man, who,despite the general theory that most slaves were on a par with cattle,had much of the milk of human kindness in his nature. "_Phui!_ Whatbrutality! You must insist on your rights, aunt. Make them let himgo."

  Sulkily enough the executioners unbound the heavy furca. Agiasstaggered to his feet, too dazed really to know what deliverance hadbefallen him.

  "Why don't you thank the Vestal?" said Alfidius. "She has made usrelease you--you ungrateful dog!"

  "Released? Saved?" gasped Agias, and he reeled as though his head werein a whirl. Then, as if recollecting his faculties, he fell down atFabia's feet, and kissed the hem of her robe.

  "The gods save us all now," muttered Alfidius. "Valeria will swearthat we schemed to have the boy released. We shall never dare to faceher again!"

  "Oh! do not send me back to that cruel woman!" moaned Agias. "Betterdie now, than go back to her and incur her anger again! Kill me, butdo not send me back!"

  And he broke down again in inward agony.

  Drusus had been surveying the boy, and saw that though he was now in apitiable enough state, he had been good-looking; and that though hisback had been cruelly marred, his face had not been cut with thelashes. Perhaps the very fact that Agias had been the victim ofValeria, and the high contempt in which the young Drusian held hisdivorced stepmother, made him instinctively take the outraged boy'spart.

  "See here," began Drusus, "were you to be whipped by orders ofCalatinus?"

  "No," moaned Agias; "Valeria gave the orders. My master was out."

  "Ha!" remarked Drusus to his aunt, "won't the good man be pleased toknow how his wife has killed a valuable slave in one of her tantrums?"Then aloud. "If I can buy you of Calatinus, and give you to the LadyCornelia, niece of Lentulus, the consul-elect, will you serve herfaithfully, will you make her wish the law of your life?"

  "I will die for her!" cried Agias, his despair mingled with a ray ofhope.

  "Where is your master?"

  "At the Forum, I think, soliciting votes," replied the boy.

  "Well then, follow me," said Drusus, "our road leads back to theForum. We may meet him. If I can arrange with him, your executionershave nothing to fear from Valeria. Come along."

  Agias followed, with his head again in a whirl.

  III

  The little company worked its way back to the Forum, not, as now, ahalf-excavated ruin, the gazing-stock for excursionists, a commonplacewhereby to sum up departed greatness: the splendid buildings of theEmpire had not yet arisen, but the structures of the age were notunimposing. Here, in plain view, was the Capitoline Hill, crowned bythe Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus and the Arx. Here was the site ofthe Senate House, the Curia (then burned), in which the men who hadmade Rome mistress of the world had taken counsel. Every stone, everybasilica, had its history for Drusus--though, be it said, at themoment the noble past was little in his mind. And the historicenclosure was all swarming, beyond other places, with the dirty,bustling crowd, shoppers, hucksters, idlers. Drusus and his companysearched for Calatinus along the upper side of the Forum, past theRostra, the Comitium,[52] and the Temple of Saturn. Then they werealmost caught in the dense throng that was pouring into the plaza fromthe busy commercial thoroughfares of the Vicus Jugarius, or the VicusTuscus. But just as the party had almost completed their circuit ofthe square, and Drusus was beginning to believe that his benevolentintentions were leading him on a bootless errand, a man in aconspicuously white toga rushed out upon him from the steps of theTemple of Castor, embraced him violently, and imprinted a firm,garlic-flavoured kiss on both cheeks; crying at the same timeheartily:--

  [52] _Comitium_, assembly-place round the Rostra.

  "Oh, my dear Publius Dorso, I am so glad to meet you! How are all youraffairs up in Fidenae?"

  Drusus recoiled in some disgust, and began rubbing his outragedcheeks.

  "Dorso? Dorso? There is surely some mistake, my good man. I am knownas Quintus Drusus of Praeneste."

  Before he had gotten further, his assailant was pounding and shaking afrightened-looking slave-lad who had stood at his elbow.

  "The gods blast you, you worthless _nomenclator_![53] You haveforgotten the worthy gentleman's name, and have made me play the fool!You may have lost me votes! All Rome will hear of this! I shall be acommon laughing-stock! _Hei! vah!_ But I'll teach you to behave!" Andhe shook the wretched boy until the latter's teeth rattled.

  [53] Great men, and candidates for office who wished to "know" everybody, kept smart slaves at their elbow to whisper strang
ers' names in their ears. Sometimes the slaves themselves were at fault.

  At this instant a young man of faultless toilet, whom we have alreadyrecognized as Lucius Ahenobarbus, pushed into the little knot as apeacemaker.

  "Most excellent Calatinus," said he, half suppressing his laughter atthe candidate's fury, the nomenclator's anguish, and Drusus's vexedconfusion, "allow me to introduce to you a son of Sextus Drusus, whowas an old friend of my father's. This is Quintus Drusus, if in a fewyears I have not forgotten his face; and this, my dear Quintus, is mygood friend Lucius Calatinus, who would be glad of your vote andinfluence to help on his candidacy as tribune."

  The atmosphere was cleared instantly. Calatinus forgot his anger, inorder to apologize in the most obsequious manner for his headlongsalutation. Drusus, pleased to find the man he had been seeking,forgave the vile scent of the garlic, and graciously accepted theexplanation. Then the way was open to ask Calatinus whether he waswilling to dispose of Agias. The crestfallen candidate was only toohappy to do something to put himself right with the person he hadoffended. Loudly he cursed his wife's temper, that would have wasted aslave worth a "hundred thousand sesterces" to gratify a mere burst ofpassion.

  "Yes, he was willing to sell the boy to accommodate his excellency,Quintus Drusus," said Calatinus, "although he was a valuable slave.Still, in honesty he had to admit that Agias had some mischievouspoints. Calatinus had boxed his ears only the day before for lickingthe pastry. But, since his wife disliked the fellow, he would beconstrained to sell him, if a purchaser would take him."

  The result of the conference was that Drusus, who had inherited thatkeen eye for business which went with most of his race, purchasedAgias for thirty thousand sesterces, considerably less than the boywould have brought in the market.

  While Drusus was handing over a money order payable with Flaccus,Lucius Ahenobarbus again came forward, with all seeming friendliness.

  "My dear Quintus," said he, "Marcus Laeca has commissioned me to find aninth guest to fill his _triclinium_[54] this evening. We should bedelighted if you would join us. I don't know what the good Marcus willoffer us to-night, but you can be sure of a slice of peacock[55] and afew other nice bits."

  [54] Dining room with couch seats for nine, the regular size.

  [55] The _ne plus ultra_ of Roman gastronomy at the time.

  "I am very grateful," replied Drusus, who felt all the while thatLucius Ahenobarbus was the last man in the world with whom he cared tospend an evening's carousing; "but," and here he concocted a whitelie, "an old friend I met in Athens has already invited me to spendthe night, and I cannot well refuse him. I thank you for yourinvitation."

  Lucius muttered some polite and conventional terms of regret, and fellback to join Servius Flaccus and Gabinius, who were near him.

  "I invited him and he refused," he said half scornfully, halfbitterly. "That little minx, Cornelia, has been complaining of me tohim, I am sure. The gods ruin him! If he wishes to become my enemy,he'll have good cause to fear my bite."

  "You say he's from Praeneste," said Gabinius, "and yet can he speakdecent Latin? Doesn't he say '_conia_' for '_ciconia_,' and'_tammodo_' for '_tantummodo_'_?_ I wonder you invite such a boor."

  "Oh! he can speak good enough Latin," said Lucius. "But I invited himbecause he is rich; and it might be worth our while to make himgamble."

  "Rich!" lisped Servius Flaccus. "Rich (h)as my (h)uncle the broker?That silly straightlac(h)ed fellow, who's (h)a C(h)ato, (h)or worse?For shame!"

  "Well," said Lucius, "old Crassus used to say that no one who couldn'tpay out of his own purse for an army was rich. But though Drususcannot do quite that, he has enough sesterces to make happy men ofmost of us, if his fortune were mine or yours."

  "(H)its (h)an (h)outrage for him to have (h)it," cried ServiusFlaccus.

  "It's worse than an outrage," replied Ahenobarbus; "it's a sheerblunder of the Fates. Remind me to tell you about Drusus and hisfortune, before I have drunk too much to-night."

  * * * * *

  Agias went away rejoicing with his new master. Drusus owned anapartment house on the Vicus Longus, and there had a furnished suiteof rooms. He gave Agias into the charge of the porter[56] and orderedhim to dress the boy's wounds. Cappadox waited on his master when helunched.

  [56] Porter--_Insularius._

  "Master Quintus," said he, with the familiar air of a privilegedservant, "did you see that knavish-looking Gabinius following MadameFabia all the way back to the Temple of Vesta?"

  "No," said Drusus; "what do you mean, you silly fellow?"

  "Oh, nothing," said Cappadox, humbly. "I only thought it a littlequeer."

  "Perhaps so," said his master, carelessly.