[pg 30]CHAPTER IV.A sharp walk of about an hour and a half on the Salarean Way, brought us within sight of the Suburban of Capito.A lofty wall protected the fields of this retirement from the intrusive eyes of passengers. We entered by a small side-door, and found ourselves, as if by some magical delusion, transported from the glare of a Roman highway, into the depth and silence of some primeval forest. No nicely trimmed path conducted our feet. Every thing had at least the appearance of being left as nature had formed it. The fern rustled beneath us as we moved; the ivy was seen spreading its careless tresses from tree to tree; the fawn bounded from the thicket. By degrees, however, the gloom lessened, till at length, over an open space of lawn, we perceived the porch of entrance, and a long line of colonnade. We passed under the porch, and across a paved court where a fountain was playing, into the great hall, which commanded all the other side of the place—a noble prospect of elaborate gardens gradually rising into shady hills, and lost in a distance of impenetrable wood.Here a freedman attended us, who informed us that Capito had retired into a sequestered part of the grounds[pg 31]with some friends from the city; but that if we chose we could easily join him there. We assented, and, following his guidance, ere long traversed no narrow space of luxuriant cultivation. From one perfumed terrace we descended to another; till, having reached a certain green and mossy walk, darkened by a natural arching of vines and mulberries, the freedman pointed to a statue at the farther end, and told us it stood over against the entrance of his master’s summer-house. When we reached the statue, however, we could perceive no building. The shaded avenue terminated in face of a precipitous rock, from which there fell a small stream that was received in a massive basin, where the waters foamed into spray without transgressing the margin. A thousand delicious plants and far-sought flowers clustered around the base of the rock and the brink of the fountain, and the humming of innumerable bees mingled with the whispers of the stream. We stood for a moment uncertain whether we should move on or retire, when we heard one calling to us from beyond; and passing to the other side of the basin, descried, between the rock and the falling water, a low entrance into what seemed to be a natural cave or grotto. We stooped, and found ourselves within one of the most luxurious retirements ever haunted by the foot of Dryad. A sparry roof hung like a canopy of gems and crystals over a group of sculptured Nymphs and Fawns, which were placed on a rustic pedestal within a circular bath shaped out of the living stone. Around the edge of the waveless waters that slumbered in this green recess, were spread carpets rich with the dyes of Tyrian art, whereon Capito was reposing with[pg 32]his friends. He received Sextus with kindness, and me with politeness, introducing us both to his companions, who were three in number—all of them, like himself, advanced in years, and two of them wearing long beards, though their demeanour was destitute of any thing like the affected stateliness of our friend Xerophrastes. These two, as our host informed us, were Greeks and Rhetoricians—the third, a Patrician of the house of the Pontii, devoted, like himself, to the pursuits of philosophy and the pleasures of a literary retirement.They were engaged, when we joined them, in a conversation which had sprung from the perusal of some new metaphysical treatise. One of the Greeks, the more serene-looking of the pair, was defending its doctrines with earnestness of manner, although in a low and measured cadence of voice; the other espoused the opposite side, with quickness of utterance and severe animation of look; while the two lordly Romans seemed to be contenting themselves, for the most part, with listening, although it was not difficult to perceive from their countenances, that the one sided in opinion with the Stoic, and Capito himself with the Epicurean.They all arose presently, and proceeded to walk together, without interrupting the conversation, along the same shaded avenue which Sextus and myself had already traversed. He and I moved along with them, but a little in their rear—my companion being still too much abstracted to bestow his attention on what they were saying; while I myself, being but little an adept in such mysteries, amused myself rather with the exterior and manners of the men, than with the merits of the opinions they were severally defending. The[pg 33]Greeks were attired in the graceful costume of their country, which was worn, however, far more gracefully by the Epicurean than his brother,—the materials of his robe being delicate, and its folds arranged with studied elegance, whereas the coarse garment of the Stoic had apparently engaged less attention. Nevertheless, there was a more marked difference between the attire of Capito and that of Pontius Mamurra; for the former was arrayed in a tunic of the whitest cloth, beneath which appeared fine linen rollers, swathing his thighs and legs, to protect them, as I supposed, from the heat and the insects, and a pair of slippers, of dark violet-coloured cloth, embroidered with silver flowers; while the other held his arms folded in the drapery of an old but genuine toga, which left his yet strong and sinewy nether limbs exposed to the weather, all except what was covered by his tall black sandals and their senatorian crescents.As we passed on, our host from time to time directed the attention of his visiters, more particularly of the two Greeks, to the statues of bronze and marble, which were placed at convenient intervals along the terraces of his garden. The symmetry of these figures, and the graceful simplicity of their attitudes, inspired me with I know not what of calm and soothing pleasure such as I had never before tasted, so that I thought I could have lingered for ever amidst these haunts of philosophic luxury. The images were, for the most part, portraits of illustrious men—Greeks, Romans—sages and heroes; but beautiful female forms were not wanting, nor majestic representations of gods and demi-gods, and all the ethereal imaginations of the Grecian poets. Seeing the[pg 34]name of Jupiter inscribed upon one of the pedestals, I paused for a moment to contemplate the glorious personification of might and wisdom, depositing, at the same time, a handful of roses at the feet of the statue—upon which I could observe that my behaviour furnished some mirth to the Epicurean Demochares; while, on the contrary, Euphranor, the disciple of the Porch, approved of what I did, and rebuked his companion for saying any thing that might even by possibility disturb the natural piety of an innocent youth. But the Roman Stoic stood by with a smile of stately scorn; and utter indifference was painted on the countenance of Capito. At another time, Sextus having staid behind to examine the beauties of a certain statue of Diana, which represented the goddess stretched out in careless slumber on the turf, with a slender grayhound at her feet, the Epicurean began to rally me on having a taste inferior to that of my friend, whose devotion, he said, could not be blamed, being paid to an exquisite imitation of what the great Nature of things had decreed should ever be the most agreeable of all objects in the eyes of a person of his age.—“Whereas you,”continued he,“appear to be more occupied with deep-hung eye-brows, ambrosial beards, and fantastic thunderbolts, and the other exuberances of Homeric imagination.”To this reproach I made no reply, but Capito immediately began to recite some verses of a Hymn of Calimachus, in which both the Greeks joined him; nor could any thing be more delightful than the harmonious numbers. A sudden exclamation of my friend, however, interrupted them, and Capito, looking up a long[pg 35]straight pathway, said,“Come, Valerius, we shall see whether you or Sextus is the more gallant to living beauties, for here come my nieces. I assure you, I know not of which of them I am the more proud; but Sempronia has more of the Diana about her, so it is probable she may find a ready slave in our Sextus.”We advanced, and the uncle, having tenderly saluted them, soon presented us to their notice. Sextus blushed deeply when he found himself introduced to Sempronia, while in her smile, although she looked at him as if to say she had never seen him before, I thought I could detect a certain half-suppressed something of half-disdainful archness—the colour in her cheeks, at the same time, being not entirely unmoved. She was, indeed, a very lovely girl, and in looking on her light dancing play of features, I could easily sympathize with the young raptures of my friend. Her dress was such as to set off her charms to the utmost advantage, for the bright green of her Byssine robe, although it would have been a severe trial to any ordinary complexion, served only to heighten the delicious brilliancy of hers. A veil, of the same substance and colour, richly embroidered with flowers of silver tissue, fell in flowing drapery well-nigh to her knees. Her hair was almost entirely concealed by this part of her dress, but a single braid of the brightest nut-brown was visible low down on her polished forehead. Her eyes were black as jet, and full of a nymph-like vivacity.The other, Athanasia, was not a dazzling beauty. Taller than her cousin, and darker-haired, but with eyes rather light than otherwise, of a clear, somewhat melancholy gray—with a complexion paler than is usual in Italy,[pg 36]a demeanour hovering between cheerfulness and innocent gravity, and attired with a vestal simplicity in the old Roman tunic, and cloak of white cloth—it is possible that most men might have regarded her less than the other. A single star of diamonds, planted high up among her black hair, was the only ornament she wore.At the request of the younger lady, we all returned to the grotto, in the neighbourhood of which, as I have already mentioned, our tasteful host had placed the rarest of his exotic plants, some of which Sempronia was now desirous of inspecting. As we paced again slowly over those smooth-shaven alleys of turf, and between those rows of yews and box, clipped into regular shapes, which abounded in this more artificial region, the conversation, which the appearance of the cousins had disturbed, was resumed; although, as out of regard to their presence, the voices of the disputants preserved a lower and milder tone than before. I must confess, however, that mild as was the manner of the discourse, I could not help being somewhat astonished, that a polite Roman could permit such topics to be discussed in the hearing of females; above all, that he did not interpose to prevent Demochares from throwing out so many sarcastic reflections concerning the deities whose statues decorated the garden. A beautiful Mercury, in particular, which we all paused to admire, elicited many observations, that I could easily see were far from being agreeable to the fair cousins. But greatest of all was my wonder at the behaviour of Capito himself, who, after we had again entered that delightful grotto, turned himself to me as if peculiarly, and began[pg 37]a deliberate and ingenious piece of declamation concerning the tenets of his favourite philosophy;—such as the fortuitous concourse of atoms, the transitory and fluctuating nature of all things, and the necessity of snatching present enjoyments, as nothing permanent can be discovered whereon to repose the mind. With great elegance, indeed, did he enlarge on these golden theories, nor did he fail to intersperse his discourse with many exquisite verses from Lucretius and other poetical followers of his sect. Such, however, was the earnestness of his declamation, that I could not help believing him to be quite sincere to what he said, and asked him, not without anxiety, whether he had all his life been an Epicurean, or whether it was only of late that he had espoused that discipline.“Valerius,”said he,“the question is not discreditable to your tender age and provincial education. To be born wise, Fate or Heaven has denied to the human race. It is their privilege to win wisdom for themselves; the fault is their own, if they do not die wise. When the stripling enters upon the theatre of the world, bright hopes are around him, and he moves onward in the buoyancy of conscious power. The pride of young existence is the essence and extract of all his innumerable sensations. Rejoicing in the feeling of the real might that is, it is his delight to think—to dream—of might existing and exerted as for ever. New to the material, but still more to the moral world, he believes in the stability of all things whose transitory nature has not been exhibited before him. New to the tricks of mankind, he believes that to be said truly, which, why it should be said falsely, he is unable to conjecture. For him, superstition has[pg 38]equal potency to darken the past, and illuminate the future. At that early period, when ignorance is of itself sufficient to produce a certain happiness, the ambition is too high to admit such doctrines as I have no shame in avowing. But time moves on, and every hour some tender plant is crushed beneath his tread. The spirit clings long to its delusions. The promise that is destroyed to-day springs into life to-morrow in some new shape; and Hope, like some warring deity of your poets, bleeds and sickens only to revive again. But disappointment at length gathers to itself the vigour of an enduring form. The horizon becomes colder around us—the soul waxes faint and more faint within. It is then that man begins to recognize the true state, not of his own nature alone, but of all things that surround him—that having tasted much of evil, he is taught to feel the value of good—and weaning himself from vain-glorious dreams, learns the great lesson of wisdom, to enjoy the moments as they pass—to snatch some solid pleasure, at least, amidst a world of vision and imagination; so, in a word, as the poet has expressed it, he may not have reason to complain in the hour of death that he has never lived.“In me,”he continued,“you behold one that has gone through the experience necessary to produce an entire acquiescence in these doctrines. I am one of those, Valerius, who have resolved to concentrate, after this fashion, the whole of my dreams upon the hour that is. There are not wanting, indeed, here and elsewhere, persons who profess the same theories, only in the view of finding excuse and shelter for the practice of vice. But till it be proved that the practice of vice[pg 39]is the best means of enjoyment, in vain shall it be asserted that our doctrine is essentially adverse to virtue. The mistakes or the misdeeds of individuals must be estimated for nothing; for where is the doctrine that may not be shewn to have been defended by impure livers? The founder of our sect is acknowledged, by its most virulent enemies, to have been the most blameless of men, and they, I must take leave to believe, can never be sincere friends of virtue, who doubt, that he who is a true worshipper of pleasure, may also be the worshipper of virtue.”There was a certain something, as I thought, more like suppressed melancholy than genuine hilarity, in the expression of the old man’s face, as well as in the tone of his voice, while he gave utterance to these sentiments; nor did any of those present appear desirous of protracting the argument; although I did not imagine from their looks that any of them had altered their opinion. What, however, I could not help remarking in a particular manner, was the gentle regret painted in the countenance of the elder niece, while Capito was speaking. The maiden sate over against him all the while, her cheek supported on her left hand, with an expression of tender affection. From time to time, indeed, she cast her eye upward with a calm smile, but immediately resumed her attitude of pensive abstraction. Her uncle took her hand in his when he had done speaking, and kissed it gently, as if to apologize for having said any thing disagreeable to her. She smiled again upon the sceptic, and walked by herself, (for I could not help following her with my eye,) down into a dark walk of pines that branched off[pg 40]at the right hand from the entrance into the grotto. There I saw her stoop and pluck a pale flower. This she placed in her bosom, and then rejoined us with a more cheerful aspect; after which, we all walked towards the villa. Nor did it escape my notice, that, although Sempronia appeared willing to avoid Sextus as we went, it always happened, by some accident or other, that he was nearer to her than any other person of the company.They were both at a little distance behind the rest of the party, when Euphranor addressed himself to me, saying,“Is not this youth, your companion, the same that is under the guidance of a certain Xerophrastes?”—“The same,”said I,“and a wary, sage-looking Athenian is his tutor. I believe he also is of the Porch.”—“No doubt,”interrupted Demochares;“he has a beard that Zeno might have been proud of, and walks as if he conceived himself to be the chief pillar of the Porch, if not the Porch itself.”—“Who shall prevent Demochares from having his jest?”replied Euphranor.“The man is by birth a Thessalian, and his gutturals still remind one strongly of his native hills.”—I would gladly have heard more of it, but he was interrupted by the nearer approach of the rest.[pg 41]CHAPTER V.Before the hour of taking the bath, we exercised ourselves for some time in the tennis-court, where I could not but admire, especially after having heard Capito philosophise, the vigour and agility displayed by him as well as his companions. I was then conducted into the baths, where, after being washed and perfumed in the most luxurious manner, I was arrayed in an elegant supper-garment by one of the slaves of our host. At table we were joined again by the ladies, who both reclined on the same couch with their uncle. Three comely youths attended us, in short tunics, and girt with napkins of fine linen; but, during the repast, an ancient female slave stood in silence behind the couch of the young ladies. A small fountain of alabaster played between two tall candelabra of the same material, at the farther end of the apartment; and a young damsel stood beside them, swinging slowly from time to time a silver censer, from which clouds of delicate odour rolled up to the mirrored roof.In all things the feast was splendid; but there was no appearance of useless or vain ostentation. Every thing was conducted in a style of great calmness and order, without the least formality. The repast inter[pg 42]rupted not the conversation, which went on in a manner to me equally instructive as entertaining; although I must confess the presence of Athanasia sometimes rendered me inattentive to what was spoken. I could not divest myself of the idea, that some unknown circumstance was pressing on the mind of the fair creature, and that when she smiled upon those who addressed her, it was sometimes to conceal her ignorance of that which had been said.Being asked by Capito, I endeavoured, among other things, to inform him and his friends, as far as I could, concerning the then condition of this island, which, more particularly after the exploits of Agricola, had come to be a subject of some interest. In return, the chief topics which then occupied the capital were discussed by them, as I perceived, in a great measure on my account; and I listened with delight to the praises, which they all agreed on bestowing on the new Emperor. Many anecdotes were narrated, which tended to strengthen the feelings of admiration, with which I had already been accustomed to contemplate his character. But others were told, as the conversation went on, which I could not so easily reconcile with the idea I had formed of him.For example, I was somewhat disturbed with what they told me concerning his treatment of the Christians, who, as we understood in Britain, had been suffered to live in tranquillity ever since Nerva acceded to the empire. But now, from the circumstances related, it appeared that the mild and humane Trajan had taken up, in regard to this sect, the whole aversion of Domitian; every day some cruel catastrophe was made known[pg 43]of some person who had adopted their tenets. Being ignorant of the nature of those tenets, and having heard only in general terms that they were of Jewish origin, dark, and mystical, I was at a loss to account for the extreme hatred of the Prince, or rather for his condescending to give himself so much trouble concerning a matter so obscure and seemingly trifling.Capito, however, assured me, that although I might have good occasion to wonder at the steps taken by the Emperor, it would no longer be said by any one, that the progress of the Christian sect deserved to be considered as a matter either of obscurity, or of no consequence.“On the contrary,”said he,“from what you have just heard of the numbers and quality of those that have lately suffered various punishments, you cannot hesitate to admit that the head of the empire has been justified in considering it as a subject worthy his attention.”“We have adopted the gods of many nations,”said Pontius Mamurra,“nor do I see why, because the Jews have been unfortunate in a contest with Rome, we should take it for granted that theirs are unworthy of respect. If, however, as we have heard asserted, he who embraces this creed becomes an infidel in regard to the deities of Rome, I say Cæsar does well in refusing toleration to the intolerant superstition. Domitian was a tyrant, and a monster of humanity; the late prince was wise and good; and yet it may be, that, in regard to these Christians, the principle of Domitian’s conduct was right in the main, and that of Nerva’s wrong. But you, Capito, regard both sides of the question, I have no doubt, with the same indifference.”[pg 44]“I hope,”replied Capito,“I shall never regard with indifference any question, in which the interest of the empire and the honour of Trajan are concerned. But if you mean only that I am indifferent about the nature of this Syrian superstition, you are in the right. I have no knowledge of its dogmas, nor desire to have. I presume they have their share of that old eastern barbarity, in the shady places of which the elder Greeks used to think they could discover the outlines of something really grand and majestic.”“It may be so,”said Mamurra;“but if the superstition be found dangerous to the state, the Prince does well in repressing its progress. That is the only question of which I spake.”—“There is, indeed, no other,”said Capito;“I thought of none.”—“And how do you answer it, dear uncle?”said Athanasia, (lifting herself up, for the first time, to take part in the conversation.)—“Nay, my love,”said the old man,“to answer that is the business of Cæsar, and of the Senate. I only regret, that blood should be shed, and citizens exiled; above all, in the reign of a just and merciful Prince.—Sempronia,”continued he,“what is that strange story your father was telling about one of the daughters of Serennius?”“They only allege,”replied Sempronia, with a smile,“that Tertulla had a flirtation with a handsome young Greek, and the Greek happened to be a Christian,—and she was converted by the Greek,—and she was found out in going with him to some secret assembly of these people, in a vault by the Vatican Hill,—and her father has been glad to send her to Corsica, partly to escape the lawyers, and partly, I suppose, in hopes[pg 45]that the quietness of the island, and the absence of handsome young Christians, may perhaps, in time, restore poor Tertulla to her right mind—This is all. Do you think that a strange story, uncle?”“Not, if it be exactly as you have told it, Sempronia. What says Athanasia?”Athanasia answered gravely, that she was sorry for Tertulla, and had never heard any thing of the young Greek before.By this time, the increasing darkness of the chamber had warned me that we ought to be thinking of our return. I had more than once looked towards Sextus, but he refused to meet my eye. When I was on the point of speaking, Sempronia, starting from her couch, exclaimed, that she was sure there was thunder in the skies; and presently flash after flash gleamed along the horizon. All sat silent, as if awe-struck; but Sempronia was the only one that seemed to be in terror from the tempest. Nevertheless, my eyes rested more on Athanasia, who looked paler than she had done, although her countenance preserved its serenity.“How awful,”said I,“is the voice of Jupiter!”Athanasia folded her arms upon her bosom, and lifting her eyes to heaven, said in a whisper,—“How awful is the voice of God!”She then dropt her hand on the end of her couch, and half unconsciously taking hold of it in mine, I asked her if she was afraid.“No,”said she,“I am not afraid, but the heaviness of the air makes me faint, and I never can listen to thunder without feeling something extraordinary within me.”Capito said, he could not think of our going into the city that evening, and that we must all make up our minds to remain in the villa. The countenance of[pg 46]Sextus brightened up, and he looked to me as if to ask my assent. I was easily persuaded, and our host despatched a messenger to inform Licinius of the cause of our absence. The old man then led us into another apartment, which was richly furnished with books and paintings. Here he read for some time out of one of the poets, to a party, none of whom, I am afraid, were very attentive in listening to him, till, the hour of rest being come, we were conducted to our several apartments, Sextus and myself, indeed, being lodged in the same chamber.We were no sooner left alone than I began to rally my friend on the beauty of his mistress, and the earnest court he had been paying her. The youth listened with blushes of delight to her praises, but seemed not to have the least idea that he had been so fortunate as to make any impression on her mind. On the contrary, he scarcely appeared to be aware of having done any thing to attract attention from her, and expressed astonishment when I assured him, that his behaviour had been such as could not possibly admit of more than one explanation in the eyes of a person so quick and vivacious as the lovely Sempronia.After we had both retired to our beds, and the lights were extinguished, we still continued for some time to talk over the incidents of our visit, and the future prospects of Sextus and his love; until at length sleep overpowered us in easy bonds, and agreeable dreams followed, I doubt not, in the hearts of us both, the thoughts and sights of a delightful day. Mine surely were delightful, for they were all of Athanasia. Yet, even in the visions of the night, I could never gaze[pg 47]on her face without some strange impression of mystery. I saw her placid smile—I heard the sweet low cadence of her voice—but I felt, and I could not feel it without a certain indescribable anxiety, that her deep thoughts were far away.[pg 48]CHAPTER VI.I awoke early, and drew near to the bed of Sextus; but seeing that he was fast asleep, and that a quiet smile was on his lips, I could not think of awakening him. The sun shone bright into the apartment, and I resolved to walk forth and breathe the balmy air of the garden.The moisture was still heavy on the green paths, and the birds were singing among glittering leaves; the god-like statues stood unscathed in their silent beauty. I walked to and fro, enjoying the enchantment of the scene;—a new feeling of the beauty of all things seemed to have been breathed into my soul; and the pensive grace of Athanasia hovered over my imagination, like some presiding genius of the groves.I found myself near the favourite grotto, and had stood over against its entrance for some space, contemplating the augmented stream as it fell from the superincumbent rock, and regretting the ravage which the nightly tempest had made among the delicate flowers round its basin. Twice I thought I heard the murmurs of a voice, and twice I persuaded myself that it was only the rippling of the waters; but the third time I was satisfied that some person must be near. I passed[pg 49]between the water and the rock, and beheld the fair creature that had been occupying so many of my thoughts, kneeling far within the grotto, as it seemed, in supplication. To disturb her by advancing farther, would have been impious; to retire, without the risk of disturbing her, almost impossible; but I remained there fixed to the spot, without perhaps considering all these things as I should have done. The virgin modesty of her attitude was holy in my eyes, and the thought never occurred to me, that I might be doing wrong in permitting myself to witness the simple devotions of Athanasia.“Great God, listen to my prayers,”was all I understood of what she said; but she whispered for some moments in a lowly and fervent tone, and I saw that she kissed something with her lips ere she arose from her knees. She then plunged her hands into the well, by whose brink she had knelt, and turned round to the light.“Athanasia, forgive me,”was already on my lips; but on seeing me, she uttered a faint cry and fell prostrate upon the marble. I rushed forward, lifted up her head, and laved water from the fountain, till I saw her lips tremble. At last she opened her eyes, and after gazing on me wildly for a moment, she gathered her strength, and stood quite upright, supporting herself against the wall of the grotto.“Great heavens!”cried I,“in what have I offended, that I should be rendered the cause of affliction to Athanasia? Speak, lady, and say that you forgive me.”“I thought,”said she, with a proud calmness,“that Valerius was of Roman—of Patrician blood. What brings him to be a spy upon the secret moments of a Patrician maiden?”—Then bursting into a tone of[pg 50]unutterable fervour,“Speak,”said she,“young man, what have you heard? How long have you stood here? Am I betrayed?”“Witness, heaven and earth!”cried I, kneeling,“and witness every god, that I have heard nothing, except to know that you were praying. I have only seen you kneeling, and been guilty of gazing on your beauty.”“You heard not the words of my prayer?”said she.“No, not its words, Athanasia, nor any thing of its purpose.”“Do you swear this to me, young man?”“Yes, I swear by Jupiter and by Rome—as I am a man and a Roman, I know not, neither do I desire to know, any thing of what you said. Forgive me for the fault of my indiscretion—you have no other to forgive.”Athanasia paused for a moment, and then resuming more of her usual tone of voice, (although its accents were still somewhat disturbed and faltering,) said to me,“Valerius, since the thing is so, I have nothing to forgive. It is you that must pardon me for my suspicion.”“Distress me not, Athanasia,”said I,“by speaking such words.”“From this hour, then,”said she,“what has passed here is forgotten. We blot it from our memories;”—and with that, as if in token of the paction, she extended to me her hand. I kissed it as I knelt, and swore that all things were safe with me; but added, as I arose,“that I was afraid I should be promising more than I should be able to perform,—did I say I should be able to forget any hour, or any place, where I had seen Athanasia.”“Nay,”said she,“no compliment, or I shall begin to suspect you of insincerity.”I was then about to withdraw from the[pg 51]grotto; but seeing a scroll of parchment lying at the feet of Athanasia, I stooped, and presented it to her, saying,“I was afraid she might forget it.”She took it eagerly, and saying,“Of that there was no danger,”placed it in her bosom, within the folds of her tunic. She was then gathering up her black tresses, and fastening them hastily on the back part of her head, when we heard the sound of footsteps not far off, and beckoning to me to remain where I was, she darted from me, and in a moment vanished among the trees. I waited for a few minutes, and then stepping forth, beheld her walking at a distance, beside her sister, in the direction of the villa. They were soon lost among the paths, and I returned alone into the grotto.I sat down beside the dark well, wherein she had dipt her hands, and mused in a most disturbed mood on all the particulars of this strange and unexpected interview. Every motion of her features—every modulation of her voice, was present with me; I had gathered them all into my heart, and I felt that I must cherish them there for ever. From the first moment I saw her, my eyes had been constrained to gaze upon her with an interest quite novel to me; but now I knew that she could not smile, without making my heart faint within me, and that the least whisper of her voice was able to bring tears into mine eyes. Now I thought of my own unworthiness, and could not help saying to myself,“Why should a poor ignorant provincial, such as I am, be torturing myself with the thoughts of such a creature as this?”Then, again, some benign glance of hers would return before me, and I could not help having some faint hopes, that her[pg 52]innocent heart might be won to me by faithful unwearied love. But what always threw me back into despair, was the recollection of the mystery that I knew hung over her mind, although what it was I could not know. That she had been saying something in her prayers which could not be overheard without betraying her, she had herself confessed. What could be this secret, so cherished in dread, and in darkness?—A crime?—No crime could sully the clear bosom of her innocence. No consciousness of guilt could be concealed beneath that heavenly visage. But perhaps she had been made the confidante of some erring,—some unhappy friend. Perhaps, in her prayer, she had made mention of another’s name, and implored the pardon of another’s guilt. Last of all, why might it not be so, that the maiden loved, and was beloved again; that she might have some reason to regard any casual betrayal of her affection as a calamity; and that, having uttered the name of her lover in her secret supplications, her terrors might all have been occasioned by her apprehensions of my having overheard it? And yet there was something in the demeanour of Athanasia, that I could not bring myself to reconcile entirely with any one of these suppositions. Had she feared that I had overheard any confession of guilt,—even of the guilt of another,—surely some semblance of shame would have been mingled with her looks of terror. Had she apprehended only the discovery of an innocent love, surely her blushes would have been deeper, and her boldness less. Yet the last solution of the difficulty was that which haunted me the most powerfully.When I came forth into the open air, I perceived[pg 53]that the sun was already high in heaven, and proceeded in haste towards the villa, not doubting that Sextus and Capito would be astonished by the length of my absence. I found them and the ladies walking under the northern colonnade, having returned, as they told me, from a fruitless search after me through almost the whole of the garden. I looked to Athanasia, as if to signify that she well knew where I might have been found; but, although I saw that she understood my meaning, she said nothing in explanation. Sextus drew me aside shortly after, and told me, that his father had sent to inform him, that our presence was necessary in the city before supper-time, to attend a great entertainment which was to be given that evening by the lady whose cause he had successfully pleaded in the Forum on the preceding day; which lady, I now for the first time learned, was no other than the same Marcia Rubellia, to whom his father was very anxious the youth should be married. The success of this pleading had increased very much the wealth of the lady, and, of course, as Sextus well knew, the anxiety of Licinius for the proposed union; and to remain at the villa any longer, was, he said, entirely impossible, since he already suspected his father had not been quite pleased with him for leaving the Forum the day before, without staying to hear out a cause in which his duty, if not his inclination, ought to have made him feel so greatly interested.We bade adieu, therefore, to our kind host and the young ladies, not without more reluctance than either of us durst express, and ready promises to return soon again to the villa. We found Dromo and Boto waiting[pg 54]for us at the gate, the former of whom looked unutterable things, while the latter appeared to be as joyful in seeing me again, as if we had been parted for a twelvemonth. The two slaves were mounted on asses, but they led horses for our conveyance; so we mounted with all speed, and were soon beyond the beautiful enclosures of Capito. As soon as we were fairly out of sight of the house, Dromo began to ply Sextus with innumerable questions about the result of the visit, all of them in bad Greek; that, as he said, there might be no chance of what passed being understood by the Druid; for by that venerable designation, he informed us, the primitive Boto had already come to be best known in the vestibule of Licinius.“Ah!”quoth he,“there is no need for many words; I am sure my young master has not been behindhand with himself. If he has, it is no fault of mine, however. I put Opportunity into his hands, and she, you know, as the poets say, has only one lock of hair, and that is in front.”Sextus being very shy of entering into particulars, I found myself obliged to take upon me the satisfying of the curiosity of this inquisitive varlet, which I did in a manner that much astonished Sextus, who by no means suspected, that in the midst of my own attention to the other cousin, I had been able to take so much notice of what passed between him and Sempronia. However, the gentle youth took a little raillery all in good part, and we laughed loudly in unison at the triumphant capers which the whip of Dromo made his poor ass exhibit, in testimony of his satisfaction with the progress which all things appeared to be making. We[pg 55]reached the city about three hours after noon, and were told by the slaves in attendance, that Xerophrastes had gone out some time before, and that Licinius was already busy in arraying himself for the feast of Rubellia.
[pg 30]CHAPTER IV.A sharp walk of about an hour and a half on the Salarean Way, brought us within sight of the Suburban of Capito.A lofty wall protected the fields of this retirement from the intrusive eyes of passengers. We entered by a small side-door, and found ourselves, as if by some magical delusion, transported from the glare of a Roman highway, into the depth and silence of some primeval forest. No nicely trimmed path conducted our feet. Every thing had at least the appearance of being left as nature had formed it. The fern rustled beneath us as we moved; the ivy was seen spreading its careless tresses from tree to tree; the fawn bounded from the thicket. By degrees, however, the gloom lessened, till at length, over an open space of lawn, we perceived the porch of entrance, and a long line of colonnade. We passed under the porch, and across a paved court where a fountain was playing, into the great hall, which commanded all the other side of the place—a noble prospect of elaborate gardens gradually rising into shady hills, and lost in a distance of impenetrable wood.Here a freedman attended us, who informed us that Capito had retired into a sequestered part of the grounds[pg 31]with some friends from the city; but that if we chose we could easily join him there. We assented, and, following his guidance, ere long traversed no narrow space of luxuriant cultivation. From one perfumed terrace we descended to another; till, having reached a certain green and mossy walk, darkened by a natural arching of vines and mulberries, the freedman pointed to a statue at the farther end, and told us it stood over against the entrance of his master’s summer-house. When we reached the statue, however, we could perceive no building. The shaded avenue terminated in face of a precipitous rock, from which there fell a small stream that was received in a massive basin, where the waters foamed into spray without transgressing the margin. A thousand delicious plants and far-sought flowers clustered around the base of the rock and the brink of the fountain, and the humming of innumerable bees mingled with the whispers of the stream. We stood for a moment uncertain whether we should move on or retire, when we heard one calling to us from beyond; and passing to the other side of the basin, descried, between the rock and the falling water, a low entrance into what seemed to be a natural cave or grotto. We stooped, and found ourselves within one of the most luxurious retirements ever haunted by the foot of Dryad. A sparry roof hung like a canopy of gems and crystals over a group of sculptured Nymphs and Fawns, which were placed on a rustic pedestal within a circular bath shaped out of the living stone. Around the edge of the waveless waters that slumbered in this green recess, were spread carpets rich with the dyes of Tyrian art, whereon Capito was reposing with[pg 32]his friends. He received Sextus with kindness, and me with politeness, introducing us both to his companions, who were three in number—all of them, like himself, advanced in years, and two of them wearing long beards, though their demeanour was destitute of any thing like the affected stateliness of our friend Xerophrastes. These two, as our host informed us, were Greeks and Rhetoricians—the third, a Patrician of the house of the Pontii, devoted, like himself, to the pursuits of philosophy and the pleasures of a literary retirement.They were engaged, when we joined them, in a conversation which had sprung from the perusal of some new metaphysical treatise. One of the Greeks, the more serene-looking of the pair, was defending its doctrines with earnestness of manner, although in a low and measured cadence of voice; the other espoused the opposite side, with quickness of utterance and severe animation of look; while the two lordly Romans seemed to be contenting themselves, for the most part, with listening, although it was not difficult to perceive from their countenances, that the one sided in opinion with the Stoic, and Capito himself with the Epicurean.They all arose presently, and proceeded to walk together, without interrupting the conversation, along the same shaded avenue which Sextus and myself had already traversed. He and I moved along with them, but a little in their rear—my companion being still too much abstracted to bestow his attention on what they were saying; while I myself, being but little an adept in such mysteries, amused myself rather with the exterior and manners of the men, than with the merits of the opinions they were severally defending. The[pg 33]Greeks were attired in the graceful costume of their country, which was worn, however, far more gracefully by the Epicurean than his brother,—the materials of his robe being delicate, and its folds arranged with studied elegance, whereas the coarse garment of the Stoic had apparently engaged less attention. Nevertheless, there was a more marked difference between the attire of Capito and that of Pontius Mamurra; for the former was arrayed in a tunic of the whitest cloth, beneath which appeared fine linen rollers, swathing his thighs and legs, to protect them, as I supposed, from the heat and the insects, and a pair of slippers, of dark violet-coloured cloth, embroidered with silver flowers; while the other held his arms folded in the drapery of an old but genuine toga, which left his yet strong and sinewy nether limbs exposed to the weather, all except what was covered by his tall black sandals and their senatorian crescents.As we passed on, our host from time to time directed the attention of his visiters, more particularly of the two Greeks, to the statues of bronze and marble, which were placed at convenient intervals along the terraces of his garden. The symmetry of these figures, and the graceful simplicity of their attitudes, inspired me with I know not what of calm and soothing pleasure such as I had never before tasted, so that I thought I could have lingered for ever amidst these haunts of philosophic luxury. The images were, for the most part, portraits of illustrious men—Greeks, Romans—sages and heroes; but beautiful female forms were not wanting, nor majestic representations of gods and demi-gods, and all the ethereal imaginations of the Grecian poets. Seeing the[pg 34]name of Jupiter inscribed upon one of the pedestals, I paused for a moment to contemplate the glorious personification of might and wisdom, depositing, at the same time, a handful of roses at the feet of the statue—upon which I could observe that my behaviour furnished some mirth to the Epicurean Demochares; while, on the contrary, Euphranor, the disciple of the Porch, approved of what I did, and rebuked his companion for saying any thing that might even by possibility disturb the natural piety of an innocent youth. But the Roman Stoic stood by with a smile of stately scorn; and utter indifference was painted on the countenance of Capito. At another time, Sextus having staid behind to examine the beauties of a certain statue of Diana, which represented the goddess stretched out in careless slumber on the turf, with a slender grayhound at her feet, the Epicurean began to rally me on having a taste inferior to that of my friend, whose devotion, he said, could not be blamed, being paid to an exquisite imitation of what the great Nature of things had decreed should ever be the most agreeable of all objects in the eyes of a person of his age.—“Whereas you,”continued he,“appear to be more occupied with deep-hung eye-brows, ambrosial beards, and fantastic thunderbolts, and the other exuberances of Homeric imagination.”To this reproach I made no reply, but Capito immediately began to recite some verses of a Hymn of Calimachus, in which both the Greeks joined him; nor could any thing be more delightful than the harmonious numbers. A sudden exclamation of my friend, however, interrupted them, and Capito, looking up a long[pg 35]straight pathway, said,“Come, Valerius, we shall see whether you or Sextus is the more gallant to living beauties, for here come my nieces. I assure you, I know not of which of them I am the more proud; but Sempronia has more of the Diana about her, so it is probable she may find a ready slave in our Sextus.”We advanced, and the uncle, having tenderly saluted them, soon presented us to their notice. Sextus blushed deeply when he found himself introduced to Sempronia, while in her smile, although she looked at him as if to say she had never seen him before, I thought I could detect a certain half-suppressed something of half-disdainful archness—the colour in her cheeks, at the same time, being not entirely unmoved. She was, indeed, a very lovely girl, and in looking on her light dancing play of features, I could easily sympathize with the young raptures of my friend. Her dress was such as to set off her charms to the utmost advantage, for the bright green of her Byssine robe, although it would have been a severe trial to any ordinary complexion, served only to heighten the delicious brilliancy of hers. A veil, of the same substance and colour, richly embroidered with flowers of silver tissue, fell in flowing drapery well-nigh to her knees. Her hair was almost entirely concealed by this part of her dress, but a single braid of the brightest nut-brown was visible low down on her polished forehead. Her eyes were black as jet, and full of a nymph-like vivacity.The other, Athanasia, was not a dazzling beauty. Taller than her cousin, and darker-haired, but with eyes rather light than otherwise, of a clear, somewhat melancholy gray—with a complexion paler than is usual in Italy,[pg 36]a demeanour hovering between cheerfulness and innocent gravity, and attired with a vestal simplicity in the old Roman tunic, and cloak of white cloth—it is possible that most men might have regarded her less than the other. A single star of diamonds, planted high up among her black hair, was the only ornament she wore.At the request of the younger lady, we all returned to the grotto, in the neighbourhood of which, as I have already mentioned, our tasteful host had placed the rarest of his exotic plants, some of which Sempronia was now desirous of inspecting. As we paced again slowly over those smooth-shaven alleys of turf, and between those rows of yews and box, clipped into regular shapes, which abounded in this more artificial region, the conversation, which the appearance of the cousins had disturbed, was resumed; although, as out of regard to their presence, the voices of the disputants preserved a lower and milder tone than before. I must confess, however, that mild as was the manner of the discourse, I could not help being somewhat astonished, that a polite Roman could permit such topics to be discussed in the hearing of females; above all, that he did not interpose to prevent Demochares from throwing out so many sarcastic reflections concerning the deities whose statues decorated the garden. A beautiful Mercury, in particular, which we all paused to admire, elicited many observations, that I could easily see were far from being agreeable to the fair cousins. But greatest of all was my wonder at the behaviour of Capito himself, who, after we had again entered that delightful grotto, turned himself to me as if peculiarly, and began[pg 37]a deliberate and ingenious piece of declamation concerning the tenets of his favourite philosophy;—such as the fortuitous concourse of atoms, the transitory and fluctuating nature of all things, and the necessity of snatching present enjoyments, as nothing permanent can be discovered whereon to repose the mind. With great elegance, indeed, did he enlarge on these golden theories, nor did he fail to intersperse his discourse with many exquisite verses from Lucretius and other poetical followers of his sect. Such, however, was the earnestness of his declamation, that I could not help believing him to be quite sincere to what he said, and asked him, not without anxiety, whether he had all his life been an Epicurean, or whether it was only of late that he had espoused that discipline.“Valerius,”said he,“the question is not discreditable to your tender age and provincial education. To be born wise, Fate or Heaven has denied to the human race. It is their privilege to win wisdom for themselves; the fault is their own, if they do not die wise. When the stripling enters upon the theatre of the world, bright hopes are around him, and he moves onward in the buoyancy of conscious power. The pride of young existence is the essence and extract of all his innumerable sensations. Rejoicing in the feeling of the real might that is, it is his delight to think—to dream—of might existing and exerted as for ever. New to the material, but still more to the moral world, he believes in the stability of all things whose transitory nature has not been exhibited before him. New to the tricks of mankind, he believes that to be said truly, which, why it should be said falsely, he is unable to conjecture. For him, superstition has[pg 38]equal potency to darken the past, and illuminate the future. At that early period, when ignorance is of itself sufficient to produce a certain happiness, the ambition is too high to admit such doctrines as I have no shame in avowing. But time moves on, and every hour some tender plant is crushed beneath his tread. The spirit clings long to its delusions. The promise that is destroyed to-day springs into life to-morrow in some new shape; and Hope, like some warring deity of your poets, bleeds and sickens only to revive again. But disappointment at length gathers to itself the vigour of an enduring form. The horizon becomes colder around us—the soul waxes faint and more faint within. It is then that man begins to recognize the true state, not of his own nature alone, but of all things that surround him—that having tasted much of evil, he is taught to feel the value of good—and weaning himself from vain-glorious dreams, learns the great lesson of wisdom, to enjoy the moments as they pass—to snatch some solid pleasure, at least, amidst a world of vision and imagination; so, in a word, as the poet has expressed it, he may not have reason to complain in the hour of death that he has never lived.“In me,”he continued,“you behold one that has gone through the experience necessary to produce an entire acquiescence in these doctrines. I am one of those, Valerius, who have resolved to concentrate, after this fashion, the whole of my dreams upon the hour that is. There are not wanting, indeed, here and elsewhere, persons who profess the same theories, only in the view of finding excuse and shelter for the practice of vice. But till it be proved that the practice of vice[pg 39]is the best means of enjoyment, in vain shall it be asserted that our doctrine is essentially adverse to virtue. The mistakes or the misdeeds of individuals must be estimated for nothing; for where is the doctrine that may not be shewn to have been defended by impure livers? The founder of our sect is acknowledged, by its most virulent enemies, to have been the most blameless of men, and they, I must take leave to believe, can never be sincere friends of virtue, who doubt, that he who is a true worshipper of pleasure, may also be the worshipper of virtue.”There was a certain something, as I thought, more like suppressed melancholy than genuine hilarity, in the expression of the old man’s face, as well as in the tone of his voice, while he gave utterance to these sentiments; nor did any of those present appear desirous of protracting the argument; although I did not imagine from their looks that any of them had altered their opinion. What, however, I could not help remarking in a particular manner, was the gentle regret painted in the countenance of the elder niece, while Capito was speaking. The maiden sate over against him all the while, her cheek supported on her left hand, with an expression of tender affection. From time to time, indeed, she cast her eye upward with a calm smile, but immediately resumed her attitude of pensive abstraction. Her uncle took her hand in his when he had done speaking, and kissed it gently, as if to apologize for having said any thing disagreeable to her. She smiled again upon the sceptic, and walked by herself, (for I could not help following her with my eye,) down into a dark walk of pines that branched off[pg 40]at the right hand from the entrance into the grotto. There I saw her stoop and pluck a pale flower. This she placed in her bosom, and then rejoined us with a more cheerful aspect; after which, we all walked towards the villa. Nor did it escape my notice, that, although Sempronia appeared willing to avoid Sextus as we went, it always happened, by some accident or other, that he was nearer to her than any other person of the company.They were both at a little distance behind the rest of the party, when Euphranor addressed himself to me, saying,“Is not this youth, your companion, the same that is under the guidance of a certain Xerophrastes?”—“The same,”said I,“and a wary, sage-looking Athenian is his tutor. I believe he also is of the Porch.”—“No doubt,”interrupted Demochares;“he has a beard that Zeno might have been proud of, and walks as if he conceived himself to be the chief pillar of the Porch, if not the Porch itself.”—“Who shall prevent Demochares from having his jest?”replied Euphranor.“The man is by birth a Thessalian, and his gutturals still remind one strongly of his native hills.”—I would gladly have heard more of it, but he was interrupted by the nearer approach of the rest.[pg 41]CHAPTER V.Before the hour of taking the bath, we exercised ourselves for some time in the tennis-court, where I could not but admire, especially after having heard Capito philosophise, the vigour and agility displayed by him as well as his companions. I was then conducted into the baths, where, after being washed and perfumed in the most luxurious manner, I was arrayed in an elegant supper-garment by one of the slaves of our host. At table we were joined again by the ladies, who both reclined on the same couch with their uncle. Three comely youths attended us, in short tunics, and girt with napkins of fine linen; but, during the repast, an ancient female slave stood in silence behind the couch of the young ladies. A small fountain of alabaster played between two tall candelabra of the same material, at the farther end of the apartment; and a young damsel stood beside them, swinging slowly from time to time a silver censer, from which clouds of delicate odour rolled up to the mirrored roof.In all things the feast was splendid; but there was no appearance of useless or vain ostentation. Every thing was conducted in a style of great calmness and order, without the least formality. The repast inter[pg 42]rupted not the conversation, which went on in a manner to me equally instructive as entertaining; although I must confess the presence of Athanasia sometimes rendered me inattentive to what was spoken. I could not divest myself of the idea, that some unknown circumstance was pressing on the mind of the fair creature, and that when she smiled upon those who addressed her, it was sometimes to conceal her ignorance of that which had been said.Being asked by Capito, I endeavoured, among other things, to inform him and his friends, as far as I could, concerning the then condition of this island, which, more particularly after the exploits of Agricola, had come to be a subject of some interest. In return, the chief topics which then occupied the capital were discussed by them, as I perceived, in a great measure on my account; and I listened with delight to the praises, which they all agreed on bestowing on the new Emperor. Many anecdotes were narrated, which tended to strengthen the feelings of admiration, with which I had already been accustomed to contemplate his character. But others were told, as the conversation went on, which I could not so easily reconcile with the idea I had formed of him.For example, I was somewhat disturbed with what they told me concerning his treatment of the Christians, who, as we understood in Britain, had been suffered to live in tranquillity ever since Nerva acceded to the empire. But now, from the circumstances related, it appeared that the mild and humane Trajan had taken up, in regard to this sect, the whole aversion of Domitian; every day some cruel catastrophe was made known[pg 43]of some person who had adopted their tenets. Being ignorant of the nature of those tenets, and having heard only in general terms that they were of Jewish origin, dark, and mystical, I was at a loss to account for the extreme hatred of the Prince, or rather for his condescending to give himself so much trouble concerning a matter so obscure and seemingly trifling.Capito, however, assured me, that although I might have good occasion to wonder at the steps taken by the Emperor, it would no longer be said by any one, that the progress of the Christian sect deserved to be considered as a matter either of obscurity, or of no consequence.“On the contrary,”said he,“from what you have just heard of the numbers and quality of those that have lately suffered various punishments, you cannot hesitate to admit that the head of the empire has been justified in considering it as a subject worthy his attention.”“We have adopted the gods of many nations,”said Pontius Mamurra,“nor do I see why, because the Jews have been unfortunate in a contest with Rome, we should take it for granted that theirs are unworthy of respect. If, however, as we have heard asserted, he who embraces this creed becomes an infidel in regard to the deities of Rome, I say Cæsar does well in refusing toleration to the intolerant superstition. Domitian was a tyrant, and a monster of humanity; the late prince was wise and good; and yet it may be, that, in regard to these Christians, the principle of Domitian’s conduct was right in the main, and that of Nerva’s wrong. But you, Capito, regard both sides of the question, I have no doubt, with the same indifference.”[pg 44]“I hope,”replied Capito,“I shall never regard with indifference any question, in which the interest of the empire and the honour of Trajan are concerned. But if you mean only that I am indifferent about the nature of this Syrian superstition, you are in the right. I have no knowledge of its dogmas, nor desire to have. I presume they have their share of that old eastern barbarity, in the shady places of which the elder Greeks used to think they could discover the outlines of something really grand and majestic.”“It may be so,”said Mamurra;“but if the superstition be found dangerous to the state, the Prince does well in repressing its progress. That is the only question of which I spake.”—“There is, indeed, no other,”said Capito;“I thought of none.”—“And how do you answer it, dear uncle?”said Athanasia, (lifting herself up, for the first time, to take part in the conversation.)—“Nay, my love,”said the old man,“to answer that is the business of Cæsar, and of the Senate. I only regret, that blood should be shed, and citizens exiled; above all, in the reign of a just and merciful Prince.—Sempronia,”continued he,“what is that strange story your father was telling about one of the daughters of Serennius?”“They only allege,”replied Sempronia, with a smile,“that Tertulla had a flirtation with a handsome young Greek, and the Greek happened to be a Christian,—and she was converted by the Greek,—and she was found out in going with him to some secret assembly of these people, in a vault by the Vatican Hill,—and her father has been glad to send her to Corsica, partly to escape the lawyers, and partly, I suppose, in hopes[pg 45]that the quietness of the island, and the absence of handsome young Christians, may perhaps, in time, restore poor Tertulla to her right mind—This is all. Do you think that a strange story, uncle?”“Not, if it be exactly as you have told it, Sempronia. What says Athanasia?”Athanasia answered gravely, that she was sorry for Tertulla, and had never heard any thing of the young Greek before.By this time, the increasing darkness of the chamber had warned me that we ought to be thinking of our return. I had more than once looked towards Sextus, but he refused to meet my eye. When I was on the point of speaking, Sempronia, starting from her couch, exclaimed, that she was sure there was thunder in the skies; and presently flash after flash gleamed along the horizon. All sat silent, as if awe-struck; but Sempronia was the only one that seemed to be in terror from the tempest. Nevertheless, my eyes rested more on Athanasia, who looked paler than she had done, although her countenance preserved its serenity.“How awful,”said I,“is the voice of Jupiter!”Athanasia folded her arms upon her bosom, and lifting her eyes to heaven, said in a whisper,—“How awful is the voice of God!”She then dropt her hand on the end of her couch, and half unconsciously taking hold of it in mine, I asked her if she was afraid.“No,”said she,“I am not afraid, but the heaviness of the air makes me faint, and I never can listen to thunder without feeling something extraordinary within me.”Capito said, he could not think of our going into the city that evening, and that we must all make up our minds to remain in the villa. The countenance of[pg 46]Sextus brightened up, and he looked to me as if to ask my assent. I was easily persuaded, and our host despatched a messenger to inform Licinius of the cause of our absence. The old man then led us into another apartment, which was richly furnished with books and paintings. Here he read for some time out of one of the poets, to a party, none of whom, I am afraid, were very attentive in listening to him, till, the hour of rest being come, we were conducted to our several apartments, Sextus and myself, indeed, being lodged in the same chamber.We were no sooner left alone than I began to rally my friend on the beauty of his mistress, and the earnest court he had been paying her. The youth listened with blushes of delight to her praises, but seemed not to have the least idea that he had been so fortunate as to make any impression on her mind. On the contrary, he scarcely appeared to be aware of having done any thing to attract attention from her, and expressed astonishment when I assured him, that his behaviour had been such as could not possibly admit of more than one explanation in the eyes of a person so quick and vivacious as the lovely Sempronia.After we had both retired to our beds, and the lights were extinguished, we still continued for some time to talk over the incidents of our visit, and the future prospects of Sextus and his love; until at length sleep overpowered us in easy bonds, and agreeable dreams followed, I doubt not, in the hearts of us both, the thoughts and sights of a delightful day. Mine surely were delightful, for they were all of Athanasia. Yet, even in the visions of the night, I could never gaze[pg 47]on her face without some strange impression of mystery. I saw her placid smile—I heard the sweet low cadence of her voice—but I felt, and I could not feel it without a certain indescribable anxiety, that her deep thoughts were far away.[pg 48]CHAPTER VI.I awoke early, and drew near to the bed of Sextus; but seeing that he was fast asleep, and that a quiet smile was on his lips, I could not think of awakening him. The sun shone bright into the apartment, and I resolved to walk forth and breathe the balmy air of the garden.The moisture was still heavy on the green paths, and the birds were singing among glittering leaves; the god-like statues stood unscathed in their silent beauty. I walked to and fro, enjoying the enchantment of the scene;—a new feeling of the beauty of all things seemed to have been breathed into my soul; and the pensive grace of Athanasia hovered over my imagination, like some presiding genius of the groves.I found myself near the favourite grotto, and had stood over against its entrance for some space, contemplating the augmented stream as it fell from the superincumbent rock, and regretting the ravage which the nightly tempest had made among the delicate flowers round its basin. Twice I thought I heard the murmurs of a voice, and twice I persuaded myself that it was only the rippling of the waters; but the third time I was satisfied that some person must be near. I passed[pg 49]between the water and the rock, and beheld the fair creature that had been occupying so many of my thoughts, kneeling far within the grotto, as it seemed, in supplication. To disturb her by advancing farther, would have been impious; to retire, without the risk of disturbing her, almost impossible; but I remained there fixed to the spot, without perhaps considering all these things as I should have done. The virgin modesty of her attitude was holy in my eyes, and the thought never occurred to me, that I might be doing wrong in permitting myself to witness the simple devotions of Athanasia.“Great God, listen to my prayers,”was all I understood of what she said; but she whispered for some moments in a lowly and fervent tone, and I saw that she kissed something with her lips ere she arose from her knees. She then plunged her hands into the well, by whose brink she had knelt, and turned round to the light.“Athanasia, forgive me,”was already on my lips; but on seeing me, she uttered a faint cry and fell prostrate upon the marble. I rushed forward, lifted up her head, and laved water from the fountain, till I saw her lips tremble. At last she opened her eyes, and after gazing on me wildly for a moment, she gathered her strength, and stood quite upright, supporting herself against the wall of the grotto.“Great heavens!”cried I,“in what have I offended, that I should be rendered the cause of affliction to Athanasia? Speak, lady, and say that you forgive me.”“I thought,”said she, with a proud calmness,“that Valerius was of Roman—of Patrician blood. What brings him to be a spy upon the secret moments of a Patrician maiden?”—Then bursting into a tone of[pg 50]unutterable fervour,“Speak,”said she,“young man, what have you heard? How long have you stood here? Am I betrayed?”“Witness, heaven and earth!”cried I, kneeling,“and witness every god, that I have heard nothing, except to know that you were praying. I have only seen you kneeling, and been guilty of gazing on your beauty.”“You heard not the words of my prayer?”said she.“No, not its words, Athanasia, nor any thing of its purpose.”“Do you swear this to me, young man?”“Yes, I swear by Jupiter and by Rome—as I am a man and a Roman, I know not, neither do I desire to know, any thing of what you said. Forgive me for the fault of my indiscretion—you have no other to forgive.”Athanasia paused for a moment, and then resuming more of her usual tone of voice, (although its accents were still somewhat disturbed and faltering,) said to me,“Valerius, since the thing is so, I have nothing to forgive. It is you that must pardon me for my suspicion.”“Distress me not, Athanasia,”said I,“by speaking such words.”“From this hour, then,”said she,“what has passed here is forgotten. We blot it from our memories;”—and with that, as if in token of the paction, she extended to me her hand. I kissed it as I knelt, and swore that all things were safe with me; but added, as I arose,“that I was afraid I should be promising more than I should be able to perform,—did I say I should be able to forget any hour, or any place, where I had seen Athanasia.”“Nay,”said she,“no compliment, or I shall begin to suspect you of insincerity.”I was then about to withdraw from the[pg 51]grotto; but seeing a scroll of parchment lying at the feet of Athanasia, I stooped, and presented it to her, saying,“I was afraid she might forget it.”She took it eagerly, and saying,“Of that there was no danger,”placed it in her bosom, within the folds of her tunic. She was then gathering up her black tresses, and fastening them hastily on the back part of her head, when we heard the sound of footsteps not far off, and beckoning to me to remain where I was, she darted from me, and in a moment vanished among the trees. I waited for a few minutes, and then stepping forth, beheld her walking at a distance, beside her sister, in the direction of the villa. They were soon lost among the paths, and I returned alone into the grotto.I sat down beside the dark well, wherein she had dipt her hands, and mused in a most disturbed mood on all the particulars of this strange and unexpected interview. Every motion of her features—every modulation of her voice, was present with me; I had gathered them all into my heart, and I felt that I must cherish them there for ever. From the first moment I saw her, my eyes had been constrained to gaze upon her with an interest quite novel to me; but now I knew that she could not smile, without making my heart faint within me, and that the least whisper of her voice was able to bring tears into mine eyes. Now I thought of my own unworthiness, and could not help saying to myself,“Why should a poor ignorant provincial, such as I am, be torturing myself with the thoughts of such a creature as this?”Then, again, some benign glance of hers would return before me, and I could not help having some faint hopes, that her[pg 52]innocent heart might be won to me by faithful unwearied love. But what always threw me back into despair, was the recollection of the mystery that I knew hung over her mind, although what it was I could not know. That she had been saying something in her prayers which could not be overheard without betraying her, she had herself confessed. What could be this secret, so cherished in dread, and in darkness?—A crime?—No crime could sully the clear bosom of her innocence. No consciousness of guilt could be concealed beneath that heavenly visage. But perhaps she had been made the confidante of some erring,—some unhappy friend. Perhaps, in her prayer, she had made mention of another’s name, and implored the pardon of another’s guilt. Last of all, why might it not be so, that the maiden loved, and was beloved again; that she might have some reason to regard any casual betrayal of her affection as a calamity; and that, having uttered the name of her lover in her secret supplications, her terrors might all have been occasioned by her apprehensions of my having overheard it? And yet there was something in the demeanour of Athanasia, that I could not bring myself to reconcile entirely with any one of these suppositions. Had she feared that I had overheard any confession of guilt,—even of the guilt of another,—surely some semblance of shame would have been mingled with her looks of terror. Had she apprehended only the discovery of an innocent love, surely her blushes would have been deeper, and her boldness less. Yet the last solution of the difficulty was that which haunted me the most powerfully.When I came forth into the open air, I perceived[pg 53]that the sun was already high in heaven, and proceeded in haste towards the villa, not doubting that Sextus and Capito would be astonished by the length of my absence. I found them and the ladies walking under the northern colonnade, having returned, as they told me, from a fruitless search after me through almost the whole of the garden. I looked to Athanasia, as if to signify that she well knew where I might have been found; but, although I saw that she understood my meaning, she said nothing in explanation. Sextus drew me aside shortly after, and told me, that his father had sent to inform him, that our presence was necessary in the city before supper-time, to attend a great entertainment which was to be given that evening by the lady whose cause he had successfully pleaded in the Forum on the preceding day; which lady, I now for the first time learned, was no other than the same Marcia Rubellia, to whom his father was very anxious the youth should be married. The success of this pleading had increased very much the wealth of the lady, and, of course, as Sextus well knew, the anxiety of Licinius for the proposed union; and to remain at the villa any longer, was, he said, entirely impossible, since he already suspected his father had not been quite pleased with him for leaving the Forum the day before, without staying to hear out a cause in which his duty, if not his inclination, ought to have made him feel so greatly interested.We bade adieu, therefore, to our kind host and the young ladies, not without more reluctance than either of us durst express, and ready promises to return soon again to the villa. We found Dromo and Boto waiting[pg 54]for us at the gate, the former of whom looked unutterable things, while the latter appeared to be as joyful in seeing me again, as if we had been parted for a twelvemonth. The two slaves were mounted on asses, but they led horses for our conveyance; so we mounted with all speed, and were soon beyond the beautiful enclosures of Capito. As soon as we were fairly out of sight of the house, Dromo began to ply Sextus with innumerable questions about the result of the visit, all of them in bad Greek; that, as he said, there might be no chance of what passed being understood by the Druid; for by that venerable designation, he informed us, the primitive Boto had already come to be best known in the vestibule of Licinius.“Ah!”quoth he,“there is no need for many words; I am sure my young master has not been behindhand with himself. If he has, it is no fault of mine, however. I put Opportunity into his hands, and she, you know, as the poets say, has only one lock of hair, and that is in front.”Sextus being very shy of entering into particulars, I found myself obliged to take upon me the satisfying of the curiosity of this inquisitive varlet, which I did in a manner that much astonished Sextus, who by no means suspected, that in the midst of my own attention to the other cousin, I had been able to take so much notice of what passed between him and Sempronia. However, the gentle youth took a little raillery all in good part, and we laughed loudly in unison at the triumphant capers which the whip of Dromo made his poor ass exhibit, in testimony of his satisfaction with the progress which all things appeared to be making. We[pg 55]reached the city about three hours after noon, and were told by the slaves in attendance, that Xerophrastes had gone out some time before, and that Licinius was already busy in arraying himself for the feast of Rubellia.
[pg 30]CHAPTER IV.A sharp walk of about an hour and a half on the Salarean Way, brought us within sight of the Suburban of Capito.A lofty wall protected the fields of this retirement from the intrusive eyes of passengers. We entered by a small side-door, and found ourselves, as if by some magical delusion, transported from the glare of a Roman highway, into the depth and silence of some primeval forest. No nicely trimmed path conducted our feet. Every thing had at least the appearance of being left as nature had formed it. The fern rustled beneath us as we moved; the ivy was seen spreading its careless tresses from tree to tree; the fawn bounded from the thicket. By degrees, however, the gloom lessened, till at length, over an open space of lawn, we perceived the porch of entrance, and a long line of colonnade. We passed under the porch, and across a paved court where a fountain was playing, into the great hall, which commanded all the other side of the place—a noble prospect of elaborate gardens gradually rising into shady hills, and lost in a distance of impenetrable wood.Here a freedman attended us, who informed us that Capito had retired into a sequestered part of the grounds[pg 31]with some friends from the city; but that if we chose we could easily join him there. We assented, and, following his guidance, ere long traversed no narrow space of luxuriant cultivation. From one perfumed terrace we descended to another; till, having reached a certain green and mossy walk, darkened by a natural arching of vines and mulberries, the freedman pointed to a statue at the farther end, and told us it stood over against the entrance of his master’s summer-house. When we reached the statue, however, we could perceive no building. The shaded avenue terminated in face of a precipitous rock, from which there fell a small stream that was received in a massive basin, where the waters foamed into spray without transgressing the margin. A thousand delicious plants and far-sought flowers clustered around the base of the rock and the brink of the fountain, and the humming of innumerable bees mingled with the whispers of the stream. We stood for a moment uncertain whether we should move on or retire, when we heard one calling to us from beyond; and passing to the other side of the basin, descried, between the rock and the falling water, a low entrance into what seemed to be a natural cave or grotto. We stooped, and found ourselves within one of the most luxurious retirements ever haunted by the foot of Dryad. A sparry roof hung like a canopy of gems and crystals over a group of sculptured Nymphs and Fawns, which were placed on a rustic pedestal within a circular bath shaped out of the living stone. Around the edge of the waveless waters that slumbered in this green recess, were spread carpets rich with the dyes of Tyrian art, whereon Capito was reposing with[pg 32]his friends. He received Sextus with kindness, and me with politeness, introducing us both to his companions, who were three in number—all of them, like himself, advanced in years, and two of them wearing long beards, though their demeanour was destitute of any thing like the affected stateliness of our friend Xerophrastes. These two, as our host informed us, were Greeks and Rhetoricians—the third, a Patrician of the house of the Pontii, devoted, like himself, to the pursuits of philosophy and the pleasures of a literary retirement.They were engaged, when we joined them, in a conversation which had sprung from the perusal of some new metaphysical treatise. One of the Greeks, the more serene-looking of the pair, was defending its doctrines with earnestness of manner, although in a low and measured cadence of voice; the other espoused the opposite side, with quickness of utterance and severe animation of look; while the two lordly Romans seemed to be contenting themselves, for the most part, with listening, although it was not difficult to perceive from their countenances, that the one sided in opinion with the Stoic, and Capito himself with the Epicurean.They all arose presently, and proceeded to walk together, without interrupting the conversation, along the same shaded avenue which Sextus and myself had already traversed. He and I moved along with them, but a little in their rear—my companion being still too much abstracted to bestow his attention on what they were saying; while I myself, being but little an adept in such mysteries, amused myself rather with the exterior and manners of the men, than with the merits of the opinions they were severally defending. The[pg 33]Greeks were attired in the graceful costume of their country, which was worn, however, far more gracefully by the Epicurean than his brother,—the materials of his robe being delicate, and its folds arranged with studied elegance, whereas the coarse garment of the Stoic had apparently engaged less attention. Nevertheless, there was a more marked difference between the attire of Capito and that of Pontius Mamurra; for the former was arrayed in a tunic of the whitest cloth, beneath which appeared fine linen rollers, swathing his thighs and legs, to protect them, as I supposed, from the heat and the insects, and a pair of slippers, of dark violet-coloured cloth, embroidered with silver flowers; while the other held his arms folded in the drapery of an old but genuine toga, which left his yet strong and sinewy nether limbs exposed to the weather, all except what was covered by his tall black sandals and their senatorian crescents.As we passed on, our host from time to time directed the attention of his visiters, more particularly of the two Greeks, to the statues of bronze and marble, which were placed at convenient intervals along the terraces of his garden. The symmetry of these figures, and the graceful simplicity of their attitudes, inspired me with I know not what of calm and soothing pleasure such as I had never before tasted, so that I thought I could have lingered for ever amidst these haunts of philosophic luxury. The images were, for the most part, portraits of illustrious men—Greeks, Romans—sages and heroes; but beautiful female forms were not wanting, nor majestic representations of gods and demi-gods, and all the ethereal imaginations of the Grecian poets. Seeing the[pg 34]name of Jupiter inscribed upon one of the pedestals, I paused for a moment to contemplate the glorious personification of might and wisdom, depositing, at the same time, a handful of roses at the feet of the statue—upon which I could observe that my behaviour furnished some mirth to the Epicurean Demochares; while, on the contrary, Euphranor, the disciple of the Porch, approved of what I did, and rebuked his companion for saying any thing that might even by possibility disturb the natural piety of an innocent youth. But the Roman Stoic stood by with a smile of stately scorn; and utter indifference was painted on the countenance of Capito. At another time, Sextus having staid behind to examine the beauties of a certain statue of Diana, which represented the goddess stretched out in careless slumber on the turf, with a slender grayhound at her feet, the Epicurean began to rally me on having a taste inferior to that of my friend, whose devotion, he said, could not be blamed, being paid to an exquisite imitation of what the great Nature of things had decreed should ever be the most agreeable of all objects in the eyes of a person of his age.—“Whereas you,”continued he,“appear to be more occupied with deep-hung eye-brows, ambrosial beards, and fantastic thunderbolts, and the other exuberances of Homeric imagination.”To this reproach I made no reply, but Capito immediately began to recite some verses of a Hymn of Calimachus, in which both the Greeks joined him; nor could any thing be more delightful than the harmonious numbers. A sudden exclamation of my friend, however, interrupted them, and Capito, looking up a long[pg 35]straight pathway, said,“Come, Valerius, we shall see whether you or Sextus is the more gallant to living beauties, for here come my nieces. I assure you, I know not of which of them I am the more proud; but Sempronia has more of the Diana about her, so it is probable she may find a ready slave in our Sextus.”We advanced, and the uncle, having tenderly saluted them, soon presented us to their notice. Sextus blushed deeply when he found himself introduced to Sempronia, while in her smile, although she looked at him as if to say she had never seen him before, I thought I could detect a certain half-suppressed something of half-disdainful archness—the colour in her cheeks, at the same time, being not entirely unmoved. She was, indeed, a very lovely girl, and in looking on her light dancing play of features, I could easily sympathize with the young raptures of my friend. Her dress was such as to set off her charms to the utmost advantage, for the bright green of her Byssine robe, although it would have been a severe trial to any ordinary complexion, served only to heighten the delicious brilliancy of hers. A veil, of the same substance and colour, richly embroidered with flowers of silver tissue, fell in flowing drapery well-nigh to her knees. Her hair was almost entirely concealed by this part of her dress, but a single braid of the brightest nut-brown was visible low down on her polished forehead. Her eyes were black as jet, and full of a nymph-like vivacity.The other, Athanasia, was not a dazzling beauty. Taller than her cousin, and darker-haired, but with eyes rather light than otherwise, of a clear, somewhat melancholy gray—with a complexion paler than is usual in Italy,[pg 36]a demeanour hovering between cheerfulness and innocent gravity, and attired with a vestal simplicity in the old Roman tunic, and cloak of white cloth—it is possible that most men might have regarded her less than the other. A single star of diamonds, planted high up among her black hair, was the only ornament she wore.At the request of the younger lady, we all returned to the grotto, in the neighbourhood of which, as I have already mentioned, our tasteful host had placed the rarest of his exotic plants, some of which Sempronia was now desirous of inspecting. As we paced again slowly over those smooth-shaven alleys of turf, and between those rows of yews and box, clipped into regular shapes, which abounded in this more artificial region, the conversation, which the appearance of the cousins had disturbed, was resumed; although, as out of regard to their presence, the voices of the disputants preserved a lower and milder tone than before. I must confess, however, that mild as was the manner of the discourse, I could not help being somewhat astonished, that a polite Roman could permit such topics to be discussed in the hearing of females; above all, that he did not interpose to prevent Demochares from throwing out so many sarcastic reflections concerning the deities whose statues decorated the garden. A beautiful Mercury, in particular, which we all paused to admire, elicited many observations, that I could easily see were far from being agreeable to the fair cousins. But greatest of all was my wonder at the behaviour of Capito himself, who, after we had again entered that delightful grotto, turned himself to me as if peculiarly, and began[pg 37]a deliberate and ingenious piece of declamation concerning the tenets of his favourite philosophy;—such as the fortuitous concourse of atoms, the transitory and fluctuating nature of all things, and the necessity of snatching present enjoyments, as nothing permanent can be discovered whereon to repose the mind. With great elegance, indeed, did he enlarge on these golden theories, nor did he fail to intersperse his discourse with many exquisite verses from Lucretius and other poetical followers of his sect. Such, however, was the earnestness of his declamation, that I could not help believing him to be quite sincere to what he said, and asked him, not without anxiety, whether he had all his life been an Epicurean, or whether it was only of late that he had espoused that discipline.“Valerius,”said he,“the question is not discreditable to your tender age and provincial education. To be born wise, Fate or Heaven has denied to the human race. It is their privilege to win wisdom for themselves; the fault is their own, if they do not die wise. When the stripling enters upon the theatre of the world, bright hopes are around him, and he moves onward in the buoyancy of conscious power. The pride of young existence is the essence and extract of all his innumerable sensations. Rejoicing in the feeling of the real might that is, it is his delight to think—to dream—of might existing and exerted as for ever. New to the material, but still more to the moral world, he believes in the stability of all things whose transitory nature has not been exhibited before him. New to the tricks of mankind, he believes that to be said truly, which, why it should be said falsely, he is unable to conjecture. For him, superstition has[pg 38]equal potency to darken the past, and illuminate the future. At that early period, when ignorance is of itself sufficient to produce a certain happiness, the ambition is too high to admit such doctrines as I have no shame in avowing. But time moves on, and every hour some tender plant is crushed beneath his tread. The spirit clings long to its delusions. The promise that is destroyed to-day springs into life to-morrow in some new shape; and Hope, like some warring deity of your poets, bleeds and sickens only to revive again. But disappointment at length gathers to itself the vigour of an enduring form. The horizon becomes colder around us—the soul waxes faint and more faint within. It is then that man begins to recognize the true state, not of his own nature alone, but of all things that surround him—that having tasted much of evil, he is taught to feel the value of good—and weaning himself from vain-glorious dreams, learns the great lesson of wisdom, to enjoy the moments as they pass—to snatch some solid pleasure, at least, amidst a world of vision and imagination; so, in a word, as the poet has expressed it, he may not have reason to complain in the hour of death that he has never lived.“In me,”he continued,“you behold one that has gone through the experience necessary to produce an entire acquiescence in these doctrines. I am one of those, Valerius, who have resolved to concentrate, after this fashion, the whole of my dreams upon the hour that is. There are not wanting, indeed, here and elsewhere, persons who profess the same theories, only in the view of finding excuse and shelter for the practice of vice. But till it be proved that the practice of vice[pg 39]is the best means of enjoyment, in vain shall it be asserted that our doctrine is essentially adverse to virtue. The mistakes or the misdeeds of individuals must be estimated for nothing; for where is the doctrine that may not be shewn to have been defended by impure livers? The founder of our sect is acknowledged, by its most virulent enemies, to have been the most blameless of men, and they, I must take leave to believe, can never be sincere friends of virtue, who doubt, that he who is a true worshipper of pleasure, may also be the worshipper of virtue.”There was a certain something, as I thought, more like suppressed melancholy than genuine hilarity, in the expression of the old man’s face, as well as in the tone of his voice, while he gave utterance to these sentiments; nor did any of those present appear desirous of protracting the argument; although I did not imagine from their looks that any of them had altered their opinion. What, however, I could not help remarking in a particular manner, was the gentle regret painted in the countenance of the elder niece, while Capito was speaking. The maiden sate over against him all the while, her cheek supported on her left hand, with an expression of tender affection. From time to time, indeed, she cast her eye upward with a calm smile, but immediately resumed her attitude of pensive abstraction. Her uncle took her hand in his when he had done speaking, and kissed it gently, as if to apologize for having said any thing disagreeable to her. She smiled again upon the sceptic, and walked by herself, (for I could not help following her with my eye,) down into a dark walk of pines that branched off[pg 40]at the right hand from the entrance into the grotto. There I saw her stoop and pluck a pale flower. This she placed in her bosom, and then rejoined us with a more cheerful aspect; after which, we all walked towards the villa. Nor did it escape my notice, that, although Sempronia appeared willing to avoid Sextus as we went, it always happened, by some accident or other, that he was nearer to her than any other person of the company.They were both at a little distance behind the rest of the party, when Euphranor addressed himself to me, saying,“Is not this youth, your companion, the same that is under the guidance of a certain Xerophrastes?”—“The same,”said I,“and a wary, sage-looking Athenian is his tutor. I believe he also is of the Porch.”—“No doubt,”interrupted Demochares;“he has a beard that Zeno might have been proud of, and walks as if he conceived himself to be the chief pillar of the Porch, if not the Porch itself.”—“Who shall prevent Demochares from having his jest?”replied Euphranor.“The man is by birth a Thessalian, and his gutturals still remind one strongly of his native hills.”—I would gladly have heard more of it, but he was interrupted by the nearer approach of the rest.[pg 41]CHAPTER V.Before the hour of taking the bath, we exercised ourselves for some time in the tennis-court, where I could not but admire, especially after having heard Capito philosophise, the vigour and agility displayed by him as well as his companions. I was then conducted into the baths, where, after being washed and perfumed in the most luxurious manner, I was arrayed in an elegant supper-garment by one of the slaves of our host. At table we were joined again by the ladies, who both reclined on the same couch with their uncle. Three comely youths attended us, in short tunics, and girt with napkins of fine linen; but, during the repast, an ancient female slave stood in silence behind the couch of the young ladies. A small fountain of alabaster played between two tall candelabra of the same material, at the farther end of the apartment; and a young damsel stood beside them, swinging slowly from time to time a silver censer, from which clouds of delicate odour rolled up to the mirrored roof.In all things the feast was splendid; but there was no appearance of useless or vain ostentation. Every thing was conducted in a style of great calmness and order, without the least formality. The repast inter[pg 42]rupted not the conversation, which went on in a manner to me equally instructive as entertaining; although I must confess the presence of Athanasia sometimes rendered me inattentive to what was spoken. I could not divest myself of the idea, that some unknown circumstance was pressing on the mind of the fair creature, and that when she smiled upon those who addressed her, it was sometimes to conceal her ignorance of that which had been said.Being asked by Capito, I endeavoured, among other things, to inform him and his friends, as far as I could, concerning the then condition of this island, which, more particularly after the exploits of Agricola, had come to be a subject of some interest. In return, the chief topics which then occupied the capital were discussed by them, as I perceived, in a great measure on my account; and I listened with delight to the praises, which they all agreed on bestowing on the new Emperor. Many anecdotes were narrated, which tended to strengthen the feelings of admiration, with which I had already been accustomed to contemplate his character. But others were told, as the conversation went on, which I could not so easily reconcile with the idea I had formed of him.For example, I was somewhat disturbed with what they told me concerning his treatment of the Christians, who, as we understood in Britain, had been suffered to live in tranquillity ever since Nerva acceded to the empire. But now, from the circumstances related, it appeared that the mild and humane Trajan had taken up, in regard to this sect, the whole aversion of Domitian; every day some cruel catastrophe was made known[pg 43]of some person who had adopted their tenets. Being ignorant of the nature of those tenets, and having heard only in general terms that they were of Jewish origin, dark, and mystical, I was at a loss to account for the extreme hatred of the Prince, or rather for his condescending to give himself so much trouble concerning a matter so obscure and seemingly trifling.Capito, however, assured me, that although I might have good occasion to wonder at the steps taken by the Emperor, it would no longer be said by any one, that the progress of the Christian sect deserved to be considered as a matter either of obscurity, or of no consequence.“On the contrary,”said he,“from what you have just heard of the numbers and quality of those that have lately suffered various punishments, you cannot hesitate to admit that the head of the empire has been justified in considering it as a subject worthy his attention.”“We have adopted the gods of many nations,”said Pontius Mamurra,“nor do I see why, because the Jews have been unfortunate in a contest with Rome, we should take it for granted that theirs are unworthy of respect. If, however, as we have heard asserted, he who embraces this creed becomes an infidel in regard to the deities of Rome, I say Cæsar does well in refusing toleration to the intolerant superstition. Domitian was a tyrant, and a monster of humanity; the late prince was wise and good; and yet it may be, that, in regard to these Christians, the principle of Domitian’s conduct was right in the main, and that of Nerva’s wrong. But you, Capito, regard both sides of the question, I have no doubt, with the same indifference.”[pg 44]“I hope,”replied Capito,“I shall never regard with indifference any question, in which the interest of the empire and the honour of Trajan are concerned. But if you mean only that I am indifferent about the nature of this Syrian superstition, you are in the right. I have no knowledge of its dogmas, nor desire to have. I presume they have their share of that old eastern barbarity, in the shady places of which the elder Greeks used to think they could discover the outlines of something really grand and majestic.”“It may be so,”said Mamurra;“but if the superstition be found dangerous to the state, the Prince does well in repressing its progress. That is the only question of which I spake.”—“There is, indeed, no other,”said Capito;“I thought of none.”—“And how do you answer it, dear uncle?”said Athanasia, (lifting herself up, for the first time, to take part in the conversation.)—“Nay, my love,”said the old man,“to answer that is the business of Cæsar, and of the Senate. I only regret, that blood should be shed, and citizens exiled; above all, in the reign of a just and merciful Prince.—Sempronia,”continued he,“what is that strange story your father was telling about one of the daughters of Serennius?”“They only allege,”replied Sempronia, with a smile,“that Tertulla had a flirtation with a handsome young Greek, and the Greek happened to be a Christian,—and she was converted by the Greek,—and she was found out in going with him to some secret assembly of these people, in a vault by the Vatican Hill,—and her father has been glad to send her to Corsica, partly to escape the lawyers, and partly, I suppose, in hopes[pg 45]that the quietness of the island, and the absence of handsome young Christians, may perhaps, in time, restore poor Tertulla to her right mind—This is all. Do you think that a strange story, uncle?”“Not, if it be exactly as you have told it, Sempronia. What says Athanasia?”Athanasia answered gravely, that she was sorry for Tertulla, and had never heard any thing of the young Greek before.By this time, the increasing darkness of the chamber had warned me that we ought to be thinking of our return. I had more than once looked towards Sextus, but he refused to meet my eye. When I was on the point of speaking, Sempronia, starting from her couch, exclaimed, that she was sure there was thunder in the skies; and presently flash after flash gleamed along the horizon. All sat silent, as if awe-struck; but Sempronia was the only one that seemed to be in terror from the tempest. Nevertheless, my eyes rested more on Athanasia, who looked paler than she had done, although her countenance preserved its serenity.“How awful,”said I,“is the voice of Jupiter!”Athanasia folded her arms upon her bosom, and lifting her eyes to heaven, said in a whisper,—“How awful is the voice of God!”She then dropt her hand on the end of her couch, and half unconsciously taking hold of it in mine, I asked her if she was afraid.“No,”said she,“I am not afraid, but the heaviness of the air makes me faint, and I never can listen to thunder without feeling something extraordinary within me.”Capito said, he could not think of our going into the city that evening, and that we must all make up our minds to remain in the villa. The countenance of[pg 46]Sextus brightened up, and he looked to me as if to ask my assent. I was easily persuaded, and our host despatched a messenger to inform Licinius of the cause of our absence. The old man then led us into another apartment, which was richly furnished with books and paintings. Here he read for some time out of one of the poets, to a party, none of whom, I am afraid, were very attentive in listening to him, till, the hour of rest being come, we were conducted to our several apartments, Sextus and myself, indeed, being lodged in the same chamber.We were no sooner left alone than I began to rally my friend on the beauty of his mistress, and the earnest court he had been paying her. The youth listened with blushes of delight to her praises, but seemed not to have the least idea that he had been so fortunate as to make any impression on her mind. On the contrary, he scarcely appeared to be aware of having done any thing to attract attention from her, and expressed astonishment when I assured him, that his behaviour had been such as could not possibly admit of more than one explanation in the eyes of a person so quick and vivacious as the lovely Sempronia.After we had both retired to our beds, and the lights were extinguished, we still continued for some time to talk over the incidents of our visit, and the future prospects of Sextus and his love; until at length sleep overpowered us in easy bonds, and agreeable dreams followed, I doubt not, in the hearts of us both, the thoughts and sights of a delightful day. Mine surely were delightful, for they were all of Athanasia. Yet, even in the visions of the night, I could never gaze[pg 47]on her face without some strange impression of mystery. I saw her placid smile—I heard the sweet low cadence of her voice—but I felt, and I could not feel it without a certain indescribable anxiety, that her deep thoughts were far away.[pg 48]CHAPTER VI.I awoke early, and drew near to the bed of Sextus; but seeing that he was fast asleep, and that a quiet smile was on his lips, I could not think of awakening him. The sun shone bright into the apartment, and I resolved to walk forth and breathe the balmy air of the garden.The moisture was still heavy on the green paths, and the birds were singing among glittering leaves; the god-like statues stood unscathed in their silent beauty. I walked to and fro, enjoying the enchantment of the scene;—a new feeling of the beauty of all things seemed to have been breathed into my soul; and the pensive grace of Athanasia hovered over my imagination, like some presiding genius of the groves.I found myself near the favourite grotto, and had stood over against its entrance for some space, contemplating the augmented stream as it fell from the superincumbent rock, and regretting the ravage which the nightly tempest had made among the delicate flowers round its basin. Twice I thought I heard the murmurs of a voice, and twice I persuaded myself that it was only the rippling of the waters; but the third time I was satisfied that some person must be near. I passed[pg 49]between the water and the rock, and beheld the fair creature that had been occupying so many of my thoughts, kneeling far within the grotto, as it seemed, in supplication. To disturb her by advancing farther, would have been impious; to retire, without the risk of disturbing her, almost impossible; but I remained there fixed to the spot, without perhaps considering all these things as I should have done. The virgin modesty of her attitude was holy in my eyes, and the thought never occurred to me, that I might be doing wrong in permitting myself to witness the simple devotions of Athanasia.“Great God, listen to my prayers,”was all I understood of what she said; but she whispered for some moments in a lowly and fervent tone, and I saw that she kissed something with her lips ere she arose from her knees. She then plunged her hands into the well, by whose brink she had knelt, and turned round to the light.“Athanasia, forgive me,”was already on my lips; but on seeing me, she uttered a faint cry and fell prostrate upon the marble. I rushed forward, lifted up her head, and laved water from the fountain, till I saw her lips tremble. At last she opened her eyes, and after gazing on me wildly for a moment, she gathered her strength, and stood quite upright, supporting herself against the wall of the grotto.“Great heavens!”cried I,“in what have I offended, that I should be rendered the cause of affliction to Athanasia? Speak, lady, and say that you forgive me.”“I thought,”said she, with a proud calmness,“that Valerius was of Roman—of Patrician blood. What brings him to be a spy upon the secret moments of a Patrician maiden?”—Then bursting into a tone of[pg 50]unutterable fervour,“Speak,”said she,“young man, what have you heard? How long have you stood here? Am I betrayed?”“Witness, heaven and earth!”cried I, kneeling,“and witness every god, that I have heard nothing, except to know that you were praying. I have only seen you kneeling, and been guilty of gazing on your beauty.”“You heard not the words of my prayer?”said she.“No, not its words, Athanasia, nor any thing of its purpose.”“Do you swear this to me, young man?”“Yes, I swear by Jupiter and by Rome—as I am a man and a Roman, I know not, neither do I desire to know, any thing of what you said. Forgive me for the fault of my indiscretion—you have no other to forgive.”Athanasia paused for a moment, and then resuming more of her usual tone of voice, (although its accents were still somewhat disturbed and faltering,) said to me,“Valerius, since the thing is so, I have nothing to forgive. It is you that must pardon me for my suspicion.”“Distress me not, Athanasia,”said I,“by speaking such words.”“From this hour, then,”said she,“what has passed here is forgotten. We blot it from our memories;”—and with that, as if in token of the paction, she extended to me her hand. I kissed it as I knelt, and swore that all things were safe with me; but added, as I arose,“that I was afraid I should be promising more than I should be able to perform,—did I say I should be able to forget any hour, or any place, where I had seen Athanasia.”“Nay,”said she,“no compliment, or I shall begin to suspect you of insincerity.”I was then about to withdraw from the[pg 51]grotto; but seeing a scroll of parchment lying at the feet of Athanasia, I stooped, and presented it to her, saying,“I was afraid she might forget it.”She took it eagerly, and saying,“Of that there was no danger,”placed it in her bosom, within the folds of her tunic. She was then gathering up her black tresses, and fastening them hastily on the back part of her head, when we heard the sound of footsteps not far off, and beckoning to me to remain where I was, she darted from me, and in a moment vanished among the trees. I waited for a few minutes, and then stepping forth, beheld her walking at a distance, beside her sister, in the direction of the villa. They were soon lost among the paths, and I returned alone into the grotto.I sat down beside the dark well, wherein she had dipt her hands, and mused in a most disturbed mood on all the particulars of this strange and unexpected interview. Every motion of her features—every modulation of her voice, was present with me; I had gathered them all into my heart, and I felt that I must cherish them there for ever. From the first moment I saw her, my eyes had been constrained to gaze upon her with an interest quite novel to me; but now I knew that she could not smile, without making my heart faint within me, and that the least whisper of her voice was able to bring tears into mine eyes. Now I thought of my own unworthiness, and could not help saying to myself,“Why should a poor ignorant provincial, such as I am, be torturing myself with the thoughts of such a creature as this?”Then, again, some benign glance of hers would return before me, and I could not help having some faint hopes, that her[pg 52]innocent heart might be won to me by faithful unwearied love. But what always threw me back into despair, was the recollection of the mystery that I knew hung over her mind, although what it was I could not know. That she had been saying something in her prayers which could not be overheard without betraying her, she had herself confessed. What could be this secret, so cherished in dread, and in darkness?—A crime?—No crime could sully the clear bosom of her innocence. No consciousness of guilt could be concealed beneath that heavenly visage. But perhaps she had been made the confidante of some erring,—some unhappy friend. Perhaps, in her prayer, she had made mention of another’s name, and implored the pardon of another’s guilt. Last of all, why might it not be so, that the maiden loved, and was beloved again; that she might have some reason to regard any casual betrayal of her affection as a calamity; and that, having uttered the name of her lover in her secret supplications, her terrors might all have been occasioned by her apprehensions of my having overheard it? And yet there was something in the demeanour of Athanasia, that I could not bring myself to reconcile entirely with any one of these suppositions. Had she feared that I had overheard any confession of guilt,—even of the guilt of another,—surely some semblance of shame would have been mingled with her looks of terror. Had she apprehended only the discovery of an innocent love, surely her blushes would have been deeper, and her boldness less. Yet the last solution of the difficulty was that which haunted me the most powerfully.When I came forth into the open air, I perceived[pg 53]that the sun was already high in heaven, and proceeded in haste towards the villa, not doubting that Sextus and Capito would be astonished by the length of my absence. I found them and the ladies walking under the northern colonnade, having returned, as they told me, from a fruitless search after me through almost the whole of the garden. I looked to Athanasia, as if to signify that she well knew where I might have been found; but, although I saw that she understood my meaning, she said nothing in explanation. Sextus drew me aside shortly after, and told me, that his father had sent to inform him, that our presence was necessary in the city before supper-time, to attend a great entertainment which was to be given that evening by the lady whose cause he had successfully pleaded in the Forum on the preceding day; which lady, I now for the first time learned, was no other than the same Marcia Rubellia, to whom his father was very anxious the youth should be married. The success of this pleading had increased very much the wealth of the lady, and, of course, as Sextus well knew, the anxiety of Licinius for the proposed union; and to remain at the villa any longer, was, he said, entirely impossible, since he already suspected his father had not been quite pleased with him for leaving the Forum the day before, without staying to hear out a cause in which his duty, if not his inclination, ought to have made him feel so greatly interested.We bade adieu, therefore, to our kind host and the young ladies, not without more reluctance than either of us durst express, and ready promises to return soon again to the villa. We found Dromo and Boto waiting[pg 54]for us at the gate, the former of whom looked unutterable things, while the latter appeared to be as joyful in seeing me again, as if we had been parted for a twelvemonth. The two slaves were mounted on asses, but they led horses for our conveyance; so we mounted with all speed, and were soon beyond the beautiful enclosures of Capito. As soon as we were fairly out of sight of the house, Dromo began to ply Sextus with innumerable questions about the result of the visit, all of them in bad Greek; that, as he said, there might be no chance of what passed being understood by the Druid; for by that venerable designation, he informed us, the primitive Boto had already come to be best known in the vestibule of Licinius.“Ah!”quoth he,“there is no need for many words; I am sure my young master has not been behindhand with himself. If he has, it is no fault of mine, however. I put Opportunity into his hands, and she, you know, as the poets say, has only one lock of hair, and that is in front.”Sextus being very shy of entering into particulars, I found myself obliged to take upon me the satisfying of the curiosity of this inquisitive varlet, which I did in a manner that much astonished Sextus, who by no means suspected, that in the midst of my own attention to the other cousin, I had been able to take so much notice of what passed between him and Sempronia. However, the gentle youth took a little raillery all in good part, and we laughed loudly in unison at the triumphant capers which the whip of Dromo made his poor ass exhibit, in testimony of his satisfaction with the progress which all things appeared to be making. We[pg 55]reached the city about three hours after noon, and were told by the slaves in attendance, that Xerophrastes had gone out some time before, and that Licinius was already busy in arraying himself for the feast of Rubellia.
[pg 30]CHAPTER IV.A sharp walk of about an hour and a half on the Salarean Way, brought us within sight of the Suburban of Capito.A lofty wall protected the fields of this retirement from the intrusive eyes of passengers. We entered by a small side-door, and found ourselves, as if by some magical delusion, transported from the glare of a Roman highway, into the depth and silence of some primeval forest. No nicely trimmed path conducted our feet. Every thing had at least the appearance of being left as nature had formed it. The fern rustled beneath us as we moved; the ivy was seen spreading its careless tresses from tree to tree; the fawn bounded from the thicket. By degrees, however, the gloom lessened, till at length, over an open space of lawn, we perceived the porch of entrance, and a long line of colonnade. We passed under the porch, and across a paved court where a fountain was playing, into the great hall, which commanded all the other side of the place—a noble prospect of elaborate gardens gradually rising into shady hills, and lost in a distance of impenetrable wood.Here a freedman attended us, who informed us that Capito had retired into a sequestered part of the grounds[pg 31]with some friends from the city; but that if we chose we could easily join him there. We assented, and, following his guidance, ere long traversed no narrow space of luxuriant cultivation. From one perfumed terrace we descended to another; till, having reached a certain green and mossy walk, darkened by a natural arching of vines and mulberries, the freedman pointed to a statue at the farther end, and told us it stood over against the entrance of his master’s summer-house. When we reached the statue, however, we could perceive no building. The shaded avenue terminated in face of a precipitous rock, from which there fell a small stream that was received in a massive basin, where the waters foamed into spray without transgressing the margin. A thousand delicious plants and far-sought flowers clustered around the base of the rock and the brink of the fountain, and the humming of innumerable bees mingled with the whispers of the stream. We stood for a moment uncertain whether we should move on or retire, when we heard one calling to us from beyond; and passing to the other side of the basin, descried, between the rock and the falling water, a low entrance into what seemed to be a natural cave or grotto. We stooped, and found ourselves within one of the most luxurious retirements ever haunted by the foot of Dryad. A sparry roof hung like a canopy of gems and crystals over a group of sculptured Nymphs and Fawns, which were placed on a rustic pedestal within a circular bath shaped out of the living stone. Around the edge of the waveless waters that slumbered in this green recess, were spread carpets rich with the dyes of Tyrian art, whereon Capito was reposing with[pg 32]his friends. He received Sextus with kindness, and me with politeness, introducing us both to his companions, who were three in number—all of them, like himself, advanced in years, and two of them wearing long beards, though their demeanour was destitute of any thing like the affected stateliness of our friend Xerophrastes. These two, as our host informed us, were Greeks and Rhetoricians—the third, a Patrician of the house of the Pontii, devoted, like himself, to the pursuits of philosophy and the pleasures of a literary retirement.They were engaged, when we joined them, in a conversation which had sprung from the perusal of some new metaphysical treatise. One of the Greeks, the more serene-looking of the pair, was defending its doctrines with earnestness of manner, although in a low and measured cadence of voice; the other espoused the opposite side, with quickness of utterance and severe animation of look; while the two lordly Romans seemed to be contenting themselves, for the most part, with listening, although it was not difficult to perceive from their countenances, that the one sided in opinion with the Stoic, and Capito himself with the Epicurean.They all arose presently, and proceeded to walk together, without interrupting the conversation, along the same shaded avenue which Sextus and myself had already traversed. He and I moved along with them, but a little in their rear—my companion being still too much abstracted to bestow his attention on what they were saying; while I myself, being but little an adept in such mysteries, amused myself rather with the exterior and manners of the men, than with the merits of the opinions they were severally defending. The[pg 33]Greeks were attired in the graceful costume of their country, which was worn, however, far more gracefully by the Epicurean than his brother,—the materials of his robe being delicate, and its folds arranged with studied elegance, whereas the coarse garment of the Stoic had apparently engaged less attention. Nevertheless, there was a more marked difference between the attire of Capito and that of Pontius Mamurra; for the former was arrayed in a tunic of the whitest cloth, beneath which appeared fine linen rollers, swathing his thighs and legs, to protect them, as I supposed, from the heat and the insects, and a pair of slippers, of dark violet-coloured cloth, embroidered with silver flowers; while the other held his arms folded in the drapery of an old but genuine toga, which left his yet strong and sinewy nether limbs exposed to the weather, all except what was covered by his tall black sandals and their senatorian crescents.As we passed on, our host from time to time directed the attention of his visiters, more particularly of the two Greeks, to the statues of bronze and marble, which were placed at convenient intervals along the terraces of his garden. The symmetry of these figures, and the graceful simplicity of their attitudes, inspired me with I know not what of calm and soothing pleasure such as I had never before tasted, so that I thought I could have lingered for ever amidst these haunts of philosophic luxury. The images were, for the most part, portraits of illustrious men—Greeks, Romans—sages and heroes; but beautiful female forms were not wanting, nor majestic representations of gods and demi-gods, and all the ethereal imaginations of the Grecian poets. Seeing the[pg 34]name of Jupiter inscribed upon one of the pedestals, I paused for a moment to contemplate the glorious personification of might and wisdom, depositing, at the same time, a handful of roses at the feet of the statue—upon which I could observe that my behaviour furnished some mirth to the Epicurean Demochares; while, on the contrary, Euphranor, the disciple of the Porch, approved of what I did, and rebuked his companion for saying any thing that might even by possibility disturb the natural piety of an innocent youth. But the Roman Stoic stood by with a smile of stately scorn; and utter indifference was painted on the countenance of Capito. At another time, Sextus having staid behind to examine the beauties of a certain statue of Diana, which represented the goddess stretched out in careless slumber on the turf, with a slender grayhound at her feet, the Epicurean began to rally me on having a taste inferior to that of my friend, whose devotion, he said, could not be blamed, being paid to an exquisite imitation of what the great Nature of things had decreed should ever be the most agreeable of all objects in the eyes of a person of his age.—“Whereas you,”continued he,“appear to be more occupied with deep-hung eye-brows, ambrosial beards, and fantastic thunderbolts, and the other exuberances of Homeric imagination.”To this reproach I made no reply, but Capito immediately began to recite some verses of a Hymn of Calimachus, in which both the Greeks joined him; nor could any thing be more delightful than the harmonious numbers. A sudden exclamation of my friend, however, interrupted them, and Capito, looking up a long[pg 35]straight pathway, said,“Come, Valerius, we shall see whether you or Sextus is the more gallant to living beauties, for here come my nieces. I assure you, I know not of which of them I am the more proud; but Sempronia has more of the Diana about her, so it is probable she may find a ready slave in our Sextus.”We advanced, and the uncle, having tenderly saluted them, soon presented us to their notice. Sextus blushed deeply when he found himself introduced to Sempronia, while in her smile, although she looked at him as if to say she had never seen him before, I thought I could detect a certain half-suppressed something of half-disdainful archness—the colour in her cheeks, at the same time, being not entirely unmoved. She was, indeed, a very lovely girl, and in looking on her light dancing play of features, I could easily sympathize with the young raptures of my friend. Her dress was such as to set off her charms to the utmost advantage, for the bright green of her Byssine robe, although it would have been a severe trial to any ordinary complexion, served only to heighten the delicious brilliancy of hers. A veil, of the same substance and colour, richly embroidered with flowers of silver tissue, fell in flowing drapery well-nigh to her knees. Her hair was almost entirely concealed by this part of her dress, but a single braid of the brightest nut-brown was visible low down on her polished forehead. Her eyes were black as jet, and full of a nymph-like vivacity.The other, Athanasia, was not a dazzling beauty. Taller than her cousin, and darker-haired, but with eyes rather light than otherwise, of a clear, somewhat melancholy gray—with a complexion paler than is usual in Italy,[pg 36]a demeanour hovering between cheerfulness and innocent gravity, and attired with a vestal simplicity in the old Roman tunic, and cloak of white cloth—it is possible that most men might have regarded her less than the other. A single star of diamonds, planted high up among her black hair, was the only ornament she wore.At the request of the younger lady, we all returned to the grotto, in the neighbourhood of which, as I have already mentioned, our tasteful host had placed the rarest of his exotic plants, some of which Sempronia was now desirous of inspecting. As we paced again slowly over those smooth-shaven alleys of turf, and between those rows of yews and box, clipped into regular shapes, which abounded in this more artificial region, the conversation, which the appearance of the cousins had disturbed, was resumed; although, as out of regard to their presence, the voices of the disputants preserved a lower and milder tone than before. I must confess, however, that mild as was the manner of the discourse, I could not help being somewhat astonished, that a polite Roman could permit such topics to be discussed in the hearing of females; above all, that he did not interpose to prevent Demochares from throwing out so many sarcastic reflections concerning the deities whose statues decorated the garden. A beautiful Mercury, in particular, which we all paused to admire, elicited many observations, that I could easily see were far from being agreeable to the fair cousins. But greatest of all was my wonder at the behaviour of Capito himself, who, after we had again entered that delightful grotto, turned himself to me as if peculiarly, and began[pg 37]a deliberate and ingenious piece of declamation concerning the tenets of his favourite philosophy;—such as the fortuitous concourse of atoms, the transitory and fluctuating nature of all things, and the necessity of snatching present enjoyments, as nothing permanent can be discovered whereon to repose the mind. With great elegance, indeed, did he enlarge on these golden theories, nor did he fail to intersperse his discourse with many exquisite verses from Lucretius and other poetical followers of his sect. Such, however, was the earnestness of his declamation, that I could not help believing him to be quite sincere to what he said, and asked him, not without anxiety, whether he had all his life been an Epicurean, or whether it was only of late that he had espoused that discipline.“Valerius,”said he,“the question is not discreditable to your tender age and provincial education. To be born wise, Fate or Heaven has denied to the human race. It is their privilege to win wisdom for themselves; the fault is their own, if they do not die wise. When the stripling enters upon the theatre of the world, bright hopes are around him, and he moves onward in the buoyancy of conscious power. The pride of young existence is the essence and extract of all his innumerable sensations. Rejoicing in the feeling of the real might that is, it is his delight to think—to dream—of might existing and exerted as for ever. New to the material, but still more to the moral world, he believes in the stability of all things whose transitory nature has not been exhibited before him. New to the tricks of mankind, he believes that to be said truly, which, why it should be said falsely, he is unable to conjecture. For him, superstition has[pg 38]equal potency to darken the past, and illuminate the future. At that early period, when ignorance is of itself sufficient to produce a certain happiness, the ambition is too high to admit such doctrines as I have no shame in avowing. But time moves on, and every hour some tender plant is crushed beneath his tread. The spirit clings long to its delusions. The promise that is destroyed to-day springs into life to-morrow in some new shape; and Hope, like some warring deity of your poets, bleeds and sickens only to revive again. But disappointment at length gathers to itself the vigour of an enduring form. The horizon becomes colder around us—the soul waxes faint and more faint within. It is then that man begins to recognize the true state, not of his own nature alone, but of all things that surround him—that having tasted much of evil, he is taught to feel the value of good—and weaning himself from vain-glorious dreams, learns the great lesson of wisdom, to enjoy the moments as they pass—to snatch some solid pleasure, at least, amidst a world of vision and imagination; so, in a word, as the poet has expressed it, he may not have reason to complain in the hour of death that he has never lived.“In me,”he continued,“you behold one that has gone through the experience necessary to produce an entire acquiescence in these doctrines. I am one of those, Valerius, who have resolved to concentrate, after this fashion, the whole of my dreams upon the hour that is. There are not wanting, indeed, here and elsewhere, persons who profess the same theories, only in the view of finding excuse and shelter for the practice of vice. But till it be proved that the practice of vice[pg 39]is the best means of enjoyment, in vain shall it be asserted that our doctrine is essentially adverse to virtue. The mistakes or the misdeeds of individuals must be estimated for nothing; for where is the doctrine that may not be shewn to have been defended by impure livers? The founder of our sect is acknowledged, by its most virulent enemies, to have been the most blameless of men, and they, I must take leave to believe, can never be sincere friends of virtue, who doubt, that he who is a true worshipper of pleasure, may also be the worshipper of virtue.”There was a certain something, as I thought, more like suppressed melancholy than genuine hilarity, in the expression of the old man’s face, as well as in the tone of his voice, while he gave utterance to these sentiments; nor did any of those present appear desirous of protracting the argument; although I did not imagine from their looks that any of them had altered their opinion. What, however, I could not help remarking in a particular manner, was the gentle regret painted in the countenance of the elder niece, while Capito was speaking. The maiden sate over against him all the while, her cheek supported on her left hand, with an expression of tender affection. From time to time, indeed, she cast her eye upward with a calm smile, but immediately resumed her attitude of pensive abstraction. Her uncle took her hand in his when he had done speaking, and kissed it gently, as if to apologize for having said any thing disagreeable to her. She smiled again upon the sceptic, and walked by herself, (for I could not help following her with my eye,) down into a dark walk of pines that branched off[pg 40]at the right hand from the entrance into the grotto. There I saw her stoop and pluck a pale flower. This she placed in her bosom, and then rejoined us with a more cheerful aspect; after which, we all walked towards the villa. Nor did it escape my notice, that, although Sempronia appeared willing to avoid Sextus as we went, it always happened, by some accident or other, that he was nearer to her than any other person of the company.They were both at a little distance behind the rest of the party, when Euphranor addressed himself to me, saying,“Is not this youth, your companion, the same that is under the guidance of a certain Xerophrastes?”—“The same,”said I,“and a wary, sage-looking Athenian is his tutor. I believe he also is of the Porch.”—“No doubt,”interrupted Demochares;“he has a beard that Zeno might have been proud of, and walks as if he conceived himself to be the chief pillar of the Porch, if not the Porch itself.”—“Who shall prevent Demochares from having his jest?”replied Euphranor.“The man is by birth a Thessalian, and his gutturals still remind one strongly of his native hills.”—I would gladly have heard more of it, but he was interrupted by the nearer approach of the rest.
A sharp walk of about an hour and a half on the Salarean Way, brought us within sight of the Suburban of Capito.
A lofty wall protected the fields of this retirement from the intrusive eyes of passengers. We entered by a small side-door, and found ourselves, as if by some magical delusion, transported from the glare of a Roman highway, into the depth and silence of some primeval forest. No nicely trimmed path conducted our feet. Every thing had at least the appearance of being left as nature had formed it. The fern rustled beneath us as we moved; the ivy was seen spreading its careless tresses from tree to tree; the fawn bounded from the thicket. By degrees, however, the gloom lessened, till at length, over an open space of lawn, we perceived the porch of entrance, and a long line of colonnade. We passed under the porch, and across a paved court where a fountain was playing, into the great hall, which commanded all the other side of the place—a noble prospect of elaborate gardens gradually rising into shady hills, and lost in a distance of impenetrable wood.
Here a freedman attended us, who informed us that Capito had retired into a sequestered part of the grounds[pg 31]with some friends from the city; but that if we chose we could easily join him there. We assented, and, following his guidance, ere long traversed no narrow space of luxuriant cultivation. From one perfumed terrace we descended to another; till, having reached a certain green and mossy walk, darkened by a natural arching of vines and mulberries, the freedman pointed to a statue at the farther end, and told us it stood over against the entrance of his master’s summer-house. When we reached the statue, however, we could perceive no building. The shaded avenue terminated in face of a precipitous rock, from which there fell a small stream that was received in a massive basin, where the waters foamed into spray without transgressing the margin. A thousand delicious plants and far-sought flowers clustered around the base of the rock and the brink of the fountain, and the humming of innumerable bees mingled with the whispers of the stream. We stood for a moment uncertain whether we should move on or retire, when we heard one calling to us from beyond; and passing to the other side of the basin, descried, between the rock and the falling water, a low entrance into what seemed to be a natural cave or grotto. We stooped, and found ourselves within one of the most luxurious retirements ever haunted by the foot of Dryad. A sparry roof hung like a canopy of gems and crystals over a group of sculptured Nymphs and Fawns, which were placed on a rustic pedestal within a circular bath shaped out of the living stone. Around the edge of the waveless waters that slumbered in this green recess, were spread carpets rich with the dyes of Tyrian art, whereon Capito was reposing with[pg 32]his friends. He received Sextus with kindness, and me with politeness, introducing us both to his companions, who were three in number—all of them, like himself, advanced in years, and two of them wearing long beards, though their demeanour was destitute of any thing like the affected stateliness of our friend Xerophrastes. These two, as our host informed us, were Greeks and Rhetoricians—the third, a Patrician of the house of the Pontii, devoted, like himself, to the pursuits of philosophy and the pleasures of a literary retirement.
They were engaged, when we joined them, in a conversation which had sprung from the perusal of some new metaphysical treatise. One of the Greeks, the more serene-looking of the pair, was defending its doctrines with earnestness of manner, although in a low and measured cadence of voice; the other espoused the opposite side, with quickness of utterance and severe animation of look; while the two lordly Romans seemed to be contenting themselves, for the most part, with listening, although it was not difficult to perceive from their countenances, that the one sided in opinion with the Stoic, and Capito himself with the Epicurean.
They all arose presently, and proceeded to walk together, without interrupting the conversation, along the same shaded avenue which Sextus and myself had already traversed. He and I moved along with them, but a little in their rear—my companion being still too much abstracted to bestow his attention on what they were saying; while I myself, being but little an adept in such mysteries, amused myself rather with the exterior and manners of the men, than with the merits of the opinions they were severally defending. The[pg 33]Greeks were attired in the graceful costume of their country, which was worn, however, far more gracefully by the Epicurean than his brother,—the materials of his robe being delicate, and its folds arranged with studied elegance, whereas the coarse garment of the Stoic had apparently engaged less attention. Nevertheless, there was a more marked difference between the attire of Capito and that of Pontius Mamurra; for the former was arrayed in a tunic of the whitest cloth, beneath which appeared fine linen rollers, swathing his thighs and legs, to protect them, as I supposed, from the heat and the insects, and a pair of slippers, of dark violet-coloured cloth, embroidered with silver flowers; while the other held his arms folded in the drapery of an old but genuine toga, which left his yet strong and sinewy nether limbs exposed to the weather, all except what was covered by his tall black sandals and their senatorian crescents.
As we passed on, our host from time to time directed the attention of his visiters, more particularly of the two Greeks, to the statues of bronze and marble, which were placed at convenient intervals along the terraces of his garden. The symmetry of these figures, and the graceful simplicity of their attitudes, inspired me with I know not what of calm and soothing pleasure such as I had never before tasted, so that I thought I could have lingered for ever amidst these haunts of philosophic luxury. The images were, for the most part, portraits of illustrious men—Greeks, Romans—sages and heroes; but beautiful female forms were not wanting, nor majestic representations of gods and demi-gods, and all the ethereal imaginations of the Grecian poets. Seeing the[pg 34]name of Jupiter inscribed upon one of the pedestals, I paused for a moment to contemplate the glorious personification of might and wisdom, depositing, at the same time, a handful of roses at the feet of the statue—upon which I could observe that my behaviour furnished some mirth to the Epicurean Demochares; while, on the contrary, Euphranor, the disciple of the Porch, approved of what I did, and rebuked his companion for saying any thing that might even by possibility disturb the natural piety of an innocent youth. But the Roman Stoic stood by with a smile of stately scorn; and utter indifference was painted on the countenance of Capito. At another time, Sextus having staid behind to examine the beauties of a certain statue of Diana, which represented the goddess stretched out in careless slumber on the turf, with a slender grayhound at her feet, the Epicurean began to rally me on having a taste inferior to that of my friend, whose devotion, he said, could not be blamed, being paid to an exquisite imitation of what the great Nature of things had decreed should ever be the most agreeable of all objects in the eyes of a person of his age.—“Whereas you,”continued he,“appear to be more occupied with deep-hung eye-brows, ambrosial beards, and fantastic thunderbolts, and the other exuberances of Homeric imagination.”
To this reproach I made no reply, but Capito immediately began to recite some verses of a Hymn of Calimachus, in which both the Greeks joined him; nor could any thing be more delightful than the harmonious numbers. A sudden exclamation of my friend, however, interrupted them, and Capito, looking up a long[pg 35]straight pathway, said,“Come, Valerius, we shall see whether you or Sextus is the more gallant to living beauties, for here come my nieces. I assure you, I know not of which of them I am the more proud; but Sempronia has more of the Diana about her, so it is probable she may find a ready slave in our Sextus.”
We advanced, and the uncle, having tenderly saluted them, soon presented us to their notice. Sextus blushed deeply when he found himself introduced to Sempronia, while in her smile, although she looked at him as if to say she had never seen him before, I thought I could detect a certain half-suppressed something of half-disdainful archness—the colour in her cheeks, at the same time, being not entirely unmoved. She was, indeed, a very lovely girl, and in looking on her light dancing play of features, I could easily sympathize with the young raptures of my friend. Her dress was such as to set off her charms to the utmost advantage, for the bright green of her Byssine robe, although it would have been a severe trial to any ordinary complexion, served only to heighten the delicious brilliancy of hers. A veil, of the same substance and colour, richly embroidered with flowers of silver tissue, fell in flowing drapery well-nigh to her knees. Her hair was almost entirely concealed by this part of her dress, but a single braid of the brightest nut-brown was visible low down on her polished forehead. Her eyes were black as jet, and full of a nymph-like vivacity.
The other, Athanasia, was not a dazzling beauty. Taller than her cousin, and darker-haired, but with eyes rather light than otherwise, of a clear, somewhat melancholy gray—with a complexion paler than is usual in Italy,[pg 36]a demeanour hovering between cheerfulness and innocent gravity, and attired with a vestal simplicity in the old Roman tunic, and cloak of white cloth—it is possible that most men might have regarded her less than the other. A single star of diamonds, planted high up among her black hair, was the only ornament she wore.
At the request of the younger lady, we all returned to the grotto, in the neighbourhood of which, as I have already mentioned, our tasteful host had placed the rarest of his exotic plants, some of which Sempronia was now desirous of inspecting. As we paced again slowly over those smooth-shaven alleys of turf, and between those rows of yews and box, clipped into regular shapes, which abounded in this more artificial region, the conversation, which the appearance of the cousins had disturbed, was resumed; although, as out of regard to their presence, the voices of the disputants preserved a lower and milder tone than before. I must confess, however, that mild as was the manner of the discourse, I could not help being somewhat astonished, that a polite Roman could permit such topics to be discussed in the hearing of females; above all, that he did not interpose to prevent Demochares from throwing out so many sarcastic reflections concerning the deities whose statues decorated the garden. A beautiful Mercury, in particular, which we all paused to admire, elicited many observations, that I could easily see were far from being agreeable to the fair cousins. But greatest of all was my wonder at the behaviour of Capito himself, who, after we had again entered that delightful grotto, turned himself to me as if peculiarly, and began[pg 37]a deliberate and ingenious piece of declamation concerning the tenets of his favourite philosophy;—such as the fortuitous concourse of atoms, the transitory and fluctuating nature of all things, and the necessity of snatching present enjoyments, as nothing permanent can be discovered whereon to repose the mind. With great elegance, indeed, did he enlarge on these golden theories, nor did he fail to intersperse his discourse with many exquisite verses from Lucretius and other poetical followers of his sect. Such, however, was the earnestness of his declamation, that I could not help believing him to be quite sincere to what he said, and asked him, not without anxiety, whether he had all his life been an Epicurean, or whether it was only of late that he had espoused that discipline.
“Valerius,”said he,“the question is not discreditable to your tender age and provincial education. To be born wise, Fate or Heaven has denied to the human race. It is their privilege to win wisdom for themselves; the fault is their own, if they do not die wise. When the stripling enters upon the theatre of the world, bright hopes are around him, and he moves onward in the buoyancy of conscious power. The pride of young existence is the essence and extract of all his innumerable sensations. Rejoicing in the feeling of the real might that is, it is his delight to think—to dream—of might existing and exerted as for ever. New to the material, but still more to the moral world, he believes in the stability of all things whose transitory nature has not been exhibited before him. New to the tricks of mankind, he believes that to be said truly, which, why it should be said falsely, he is unable to conjecture. For him, superstition has[pg 38]equal potency to darken the past, and illuminate the future. At that early period, when ignorance is of itself sufficient to produce a certain happiness, the ambition is too high to admit such doctrines as I have no shame in avowing. But time moves on, and every hour some tender plant is crushed beneath his tread. The spirit clings long to its delusions. The promise that is destroyed to-day springs into life to-morrow in some new shape; and Hope, like some warring deity of your poets, bleeds and sickens only to revive again. But disappointment at length gathers to itself the vigour of an enduring form. The horizon becomes colder around us—the soul waxes faint and more faint within. It is then that man begins to recognize the true state, not of his own nature alone, but of all things that surround him—that having tasted much of evil, he is taught to feel the value of good—and weaning himself from vain-glorious dreams, learns the great lesson of wisdom, to enjoy the moments as they pass—to snatch some solid pleasure, at least, amidst a world of vision and imagination; so, in a word, as the poet has expressed it, he may not have reason to complain in the hour of death that he has never lived.
“In me,”he continued,“you behold one that has gone through the experience necessary to produce an entire acquiescence in these doctrines. I am one of those, Valerius, who have resolved to concentrate, after this fashion, the whole of my dreams upon the hour that is. There are not wanting, indeed, here and elsewhere, persons who profess the same theories, only in the view of finding excuse and shelter for the practice of vice. But till it be proved that the practice of vice[pg 39]is the best means of enjoyment, in vain shall it be asserted that our doctrine is essentially adverse to virtue. The mistakes or the misdeeds of individuals must be estimated for nothing; for where is the doctrine that may not be shewn to have been defended by impure livers? The founder of our sect is acknowledged, by its most virulent enemies, to have been the most blameless of men, and they, I must take leave to believe, can never be sincere friends of virtue, who doubt, that he who is a true worshipper of pleasure, may also be the worshipper of virtue.”
There was a certain something, as I thought, more like suppressed melancholy than genuine hilarity, in the expression of the old man’s face, as well as in the tone of his voice, while he gave utterance to these sentiments; nor did any of those present appear desirous of protracting the argument; although I did not imagine from their looks that any of them had altered their opinion. What, however, I could not help remarking in a particular manner, was the gentle regret painted in the countenance of the elder niece, while Capito was speaking. The maiden sate over against him all the while, her cheek supported on her left hand, with an expression of tender affection. From time to time, indeed, she cast her eye upward with a calm smile, but immediately resumed her attitude of pensive abstraction. Her uncle took her hand in his when he had done speaking, and kissed it gently, as if to apologize for having said any thing disagreeable to her. She smiled again upon the sceptic, and walked by herself, (for I could not help following her with my eye,) down into a dark walk of pines that branched off[pg 40]at the right hand from the entrance into the grotto. There I saw her stoop and pluck a pale flower. This she placed in her bosom, and then rejoined us with a more cheerful aspect; after which, we all walked towards the villa. Nor did it escape my notice, that, although Sempronia appeared willing to avoid Sextus as we went, it always happened, by some accident or other, that he was nearer to her than any other person of the company.
They were both at a little distance behind the rest of the party, when Euphranor addressed himself to me, saying,“Is not this youth, your companion, the same that is under the guidance of a certain Xerophrastes?”—“The same,”said I,“and a wary, sage-looking Athenian is his tutor. I believe he also is of the Porch.”—“No doubt,”interrupted Demochares;“he has a beard that Zeno might have been proud of, and walks as if he conceived himself to be the chief pillar of the Porch, if not the Porch itself.”—“Who shall prevent Demochares from having his jest?”replied Euphranor.“The man is by birth a Thessalian, and his gutturals still remind one strongly of his native hills.”—I would gladly have heard more of it, but he was interrupted by the nearer approach of the rest.
[pg 41]CHAPTER V.Before the hour of taking the bath, we exercised ourselves for some time in the tennis-court, where I could not but admire, especially after having heard Capito philosophise, the vigour and agility displayed by him as well as his companions. I was then conducted into the baths, where, after being washed and perfumed in the most luxurious manner, I was arrayed in an elegant supper-garment by one of the slaves of our host. At table we were joined again by the ladies, who both reclined on the same couch with their uncle. Three comely youths attended us, in short tunics, and girt with napkins of fine linen; but, during the repast, an ancient female slave stood in silence behind the couch of the young ladies. A small fountain of alabaster played between two tall candelabra of the same material, at the farther end of the apartment; and a young damsel stood beside them, swinging slowly from time to time a silver censer, from which clouds of delicate odour rolled up to the mirrored roof.In all things the feast was splendid; but there was no appearance of useless or vain ostentation. Every thing was conducted in a style of great calmness and order, without the least formality. The repast inter[pg 42]rupted not the conversation, which went on in a manner to me equally instructive as entertaining; although I must confess the presence of Athanasia sometimes rendered me inattentive to what was spoken. I could not divest myself of the idea, that some unknown circumstance was pressing on the mind of the fair creature, and that when she smiled upon those who addressed her, it was sometimes to conceal her ignorance of that which had been said.Being asked by Capito, I endeavoured, among other things, to inform him and his friends, as far as I could, concerning the then condition of this island, which, more particularly after the exploits of Agricola, had come to be a subject of some interest. In return, the chief topics which then occupied the capital were discussed by them, as I perceived, in a great measure on my account; and I listened with delight to the praises, which they all agreed on bestowing on the new Emperor. Many anecdotes were narrated, which tended to strengthen the feelings of admiration, with which I had already been accustomed to contemplate his character. But others were told, as the conversation went on, which I could not so easily reconcile with the idea I had formed of him.For example, I was somewhat disturbed with what they told me concerning his treatment of the Christians, who, as we understood in Britain, had been suffered to live in tranquillity ever since Nerva acceded to the empire. But now, from the circumstances related, it appeared that the mild and humane Trajan had taken up, in regard to this sect, the whole aversion of Domitian; every day some cruel catastrophe was made known[pg 43]of some person who had adopted their tenets. Being ignorant of the nature of those tenets, and having heard only in general terms that they were of Jewish origin, dark, and mystical, I was at a loss to account for the extreme hatred of the Prince, or rather for his condescending to give himself so much trouble concerning a matter so obscure and seemingly trifling.Capito, however, assured me, that although I might have good occasion to wonder at the steps taken by the Emperor, it would no longer be said by any one, that the progress of the Christian sect deserved to be considered as a matter either of obscurity, or of no consequence.“On the contrary,”said he,“from what you have just heard of the numbers and quality of those that have lately suffered various punishments, you cannot hesitate to admit that the head of the empire has been justified in considering it as a subject worthy his attention.”“We have adopted the gods of many nations,”said Pontius Mamurra,“nor do I see why, because the Jews have been unfortunate in a contest with Rome, we should take it for granted that theirs are unworthy of respect. If, however, as we have heard asserted, he who embraces this creed becomes an infidel in regard to the deities of Rome, I say Cæsar does well in refusing toleration to the intolerant superstition. Domitian was a tyrant, and a monster of humanity; the late prince was wise and good; and yet it may be, that, in regard to these Christians, the principle of Domitian’s conduct was right in the main, and that of Nerva’s wrong. But you, Capito, regard both sides of the question, I have no doubt, with the same indifference.”[pg 44]“I hope,”replied Capito,“I shall never regard with indifference any question, in which the interest of the empire and the honour of Trajan are concerned. But if you mean only that I am indifferent about the nature of this Syrian superstition, you are in the right. I have no knowledge of its dogmas, nor desire to have. I presume they have their share of that old eastern barbarity, in the shady places of which the elder Greeks used to think they could discover the outlines of something really grand and majestic.”“It may be so,”said Mamurra;“but if the superstition be found dangerous to the state, the Prince does well in repressing its progress. That is the only question of which I spake.”—“There is, indeed, no other,”said Capito;“I thought of none.”—“And how do you answer it, dear uncle?”said Athanasia, (lifting herself up, for the first time, to take part in the conversation.)—“Nay, my love,”said the old man,“to answer that is the business of Cæsar, and of the Senate. I only regret, that blood should be shed, and citizens exiled; above all, in the reign of a just and merciful Prince.—Sempronia,”continued he,“what is that strange story your father was telling about one of the daughters of Serennius?”“They only allege,”replied Sempronia, with a smile,“that Tertulla had a flirtation with a handsome young Greek, and the Greek happened to be a Christian,—and she was converted by the Greek,—and she was found out in going with him to some secret assembly of these people, in a vault by the Vatican Hill,—and her father has been glad to send her to Corsica, partly to escape the lawyers, and partly, I suppose, in hopes[pg 45]that the quietness of the island, and the absence of handsome young Christians, may perhaps, in time, restore poor Tertulla to her right mind—This is all. Do you think that a strange story, uncle?”“Not, if it be exactly as you have told it, Sempronia. What says Athanasia?”Athanasia answered gravely, that she was sorry for Tertulla, and had never heard any thing of the young Greek before.By this time, the increasing darkness of the chamber had warned me that we ought to be thinking of our return. I had more than once looked towards Sextus, but he refused to meet my eye. When I was on the point of speaking, Sempronia, starting from her couch, exclaimed, that she was sure there was thunder in the skies; and presently flash after flash gleamed along the horizon. All sat silent, as if awe-struck; but Sempronia was the only one that seemed to be in terror from the tempest. Nevertheless, my eyes rested more on Athanasia, who looked paler than she had done, although her countenance preserved its serenity.“How awful,”said I,“is the voice of Jupiter!”Athanasia folded her arms upon her bosom, and lifting her eyes to heaven, said in a whisper,—“How awful is the voice of God!”She then dropt her hand on the end of her couch, and half unconsciously taking hold of it in mine, I asked her if she was afraid.“No,”said she,“I am not afraid, but the heaviness of the air makes me faint, and I never can listen to thunder without feeling something extraordinary within me.”Capito said, he could not think of our going into the city that evening, and that we must all make up our minds to remain in the villa. The countenance of[pg 46]Sextus brightened up, and he looked to me as if to ask my assent. I was easily persuaded, and our host despatched a messenger to inform Licinius of the cause of our absence. The old man then led us into another apartment, which was richly furnished with books and paintings. Here he read for some time out of one of the poets, to a party, none of whom, I am afraid, were very attentive in listening to him, till, the hour of rest being come, we were conducted to our several apartments, Sextus and myself, indeed, being lodged in the same chamber.We were no sooner left alone than I began to rally my friend on the beauty of his mistress, and the earnest court he had been paying her. The youth listened with blushes of delight to her praises, but seemed not to have the least idea that he had been so fortunate as to make any impression on her mind. On the contrary, he scarcely appeared to be aware of having done any thing to attract attention from her, and expressed astonishment when I assured him, that his behaviour had been such as could not possibly admit of more than one explanation in the eyes of a person so quick and vivacious as the lovely Sempronia.After we had both retired to our beds, and the lights were extinguished, we still continued for some time to talk over the incidents of our visit, and the future prospects of Sextus and his love; until at length sleep overpowered us in easy bonds, and agreeable dreams followed, I doubt not, in the hearts of us both, the thoughts and sights of a delightful day. Mine surely were delightful, for they were all of Athanasia. Yet, even in the visions of the night, I could never gaze[pg 47]on her face without some strange impression of mystery. I saw her placid smile—I heard the sweet low cadence of her voice—but I felt, and I could not feel it without a certain indescribable anxiety, that her deep thoughts were far away.
Before the hour of taking the bath, we exercised ourselves for some time in the tennis-court, where I could not but admire, especially after having heard Capito philosophise, the vigour and agility displayed by him as well as his companions. I was then conducted into the baths, where, after being washed and perfumed in the most luxurious manner, I was arrayed in an elegant supper-garment by one of the slaves of our host. At table we were joined again by the ladies, who both reclined on the same couch with their uncle. Three comely youths attended us, in short tunics, and girt with napkins of fine linen; but, during the repast, an ancient female slave stood in silence behind the couch of the young ladies. A small fountain of alabaster played between two tall candelabra of the same material, at the farther end of the apartment; and a young damsel stood beside them, swinging slowly from time to time a silver censer, from which clouds of delicate odour rolled up to the mirrored roof.
In all things the feast was splendid; but there was no appearance of useless or vain ostentation. Every thing was conducted in a style of great calmness and order, without the least formality. The repast inter[pg 42]rupted not the conversation, which went on in a manner to me equally instructive as entertaining; although I must confess the presence of Athanasia sometimes rendered me inattentive to what was spoken. I could not divest myself of the idea, that some unknown circumstance was pressing on the mind of the fair creature, and that when she smiled upon those who addressed her, it was sometimes to conceal her ignorance of that which had been said.
Being asked by Capito, I endeavoured, among other things, to inform him and his friends, as far as I could, concerning the then condition of this island, which, more particularly after the exploits of Agricola, had come to be a subject of some interest. In return, the chief topics which then occupied the capital were discussed by them, as I perceived, in a great measure on my account; and I listened with delight to the praises, which they all agreed on bestowing on the new Emperor. Many anecdotes were narrated, which tended to strengthen the feelings of admiration, with which I had already been accustomed to contemplate his character. But others were told, as the conversation went on, which I could not so easily reconcile with the idea I had formed of him.
For example, I was somewhat disturbed with what they told me concerning his treatment of the Christians, who, as we understood in Britain, had been suffered to live in tranquillity ever since Nerva acceded to the empire. But now, from the circumstances related, it appeared that the mild and humane Trajan had taken up, in regard to this sect, the whole aversion of Domitian; every day some cruel catastrophe was made known[pg 43]of some person who had adopted their tenets. Being ignorant of the nature of those tenets, and having heard only in general terms that they were of Jewish origin, dark, and mystical, I was at a loss to account for the extreme hatred of the Prince, or rather for his condescending to give himself so much trouble concerning a matter so obscure and seemingly trifling.
Capito, however, assured me, that although I might have good occasion to wonder at the steps taken by the Emperor, it would no longer be said by any one, that the progress of the Christian sect deserved to be considered as a matter either of obscurity, or of no consequence.“On the contrary,”said he,“from what you have just heard of the numbers and quality of those that have lately suffered various punishments, you cannot hesitate to admit that the head of the empire has been justified in considering it as a subject worthy his attention.”
“We have adopted the gods of many nations,”said Pontius Mamurra,“nor do I see why, because the Jews have been unfortunate in a contest with Rome, we should take it for granted that theirs are unworthy of respect. If, however, as we have heard asserted, he who embraces this creed becomes an infidel in regard to the deities of Rome, I say Cæsar does well in refusing toleration to the intolerant superstition. Domitian was a tyrant, and a monster of humanity; the late prince was wise and good; and yet it may be, that, in regard to these Christians, the principle of Domitian’s conduct was right in the main, and that of Nerva’s wrong. But you, Capito, regard both sides of the question, I have no doubt, with the same indifference.”
“I hope,”replied Capito,“I shall never regard with indifference any question, in which the interest of the empire and the honour of Trajan are concerned. But if you mean only that I am indifferent about the nature of this Syrian superstition, you are in the right. I have no knowledge of its dogmas, nor desire to have. I presume they have their share of that old eastern barbarity, in the shady places of which the elder Greeks used to think they could discover the outlines of something really grand and majestic.”
“It may be so,”said Mamurra;“but if the superstition be found dangerous to the state, the Prince does well in repressing its progress. That is the only question of which I spake.”—“There is, indeed, no other,”said Capito;“I thought of none.”—“And how do you answer it, dear uncle?”said Athanasia, (lifting herself up, for the first time, to take part in the conversation.)—“Nay, my love,”said the old man,“to answer that is the business of Cæsar, and of the Senate. I only regret, that blood should be shed, and citizens exiled; above all, in the reign of a just and merciful Prince.—Sempronia,”continued he,“what is that strange story your father was telling about one of the daughters of Serennius?”
“They only allege,”replied Sempronia, with a smile,“that Tertulla had a flirtation with a handsome young Greek, and the Greek happened to be a Christian,—and she was converted by the Greek,—and she was found out in going with him to some secret assembly of these people, in a vault by the Vatican Hill,—and her father has been glad to send her to Corsica, partly to escape the lawyers, and partly, I suppose, in hopes[pg 45]that the quietness of the island, and the absence of handsome young Christians, may perhaps, in time, restore poor Tertulla to her right mind—This is all. Do you think that a strange story, uncle?”“Not, if it be exactly as you have told it, Sempronia. What says Athanasia?”Athanasia answered gravely, that she was sorry for Tertulla, and had never heard any thing of the young Greek before.
By this time, the increasing darkness of the chamber had warned me that we ought to be thinking of our return. I had more than once looked towards Sextus, but he refused to meet my eye. When I was on the point of speaking, Sempronia, starting from her couch, exclaimed, that she was sure there was thunder in the skies; and presently flash after flash gleamed along the horizon. All sat silent, as if awe-struck; but Sempronia was the only one that seemed to be in terror from the tempest. Nevertheless, my eyes rested more on Athanasia, who looked paler than she had done, although her countenance preserved its serenity.“How awful,”said I,“is the voice of Jupiter!”Athanasia folded her arms upon her bosom, and lifting her eyes to heaven, said in a whisper,—“How awful is the voice of God!”She then dropt her hand on the end of her couch, and half unconsciously taking hold of it in mine, I asked her if she was afraid.“No,”said she,“I am not afraid, but the heaviness of the air makes me faint, and I never can listen to thunder without feeling something extraordinary within me.”
Capito said, he could not think of our going into the city that evening, and that we must all make up our minds to remain in the villa. The countenance of[pg 46]Sextus brightened up, and he looked to me as if to ask my assent. I was easily persuaded, and our host despatched a messenger to inform Licinius of the cause of our absence. The old man then led us into another apartment, which was richly furnished with books and paintings. Here he read for some time out of one of the poets, to a party, none of whom, I am afraid, were very attentive in listening to him, till, the hour of rest being come, we were conducted to our several apartments, Sextus and myself, indeed, being lodged in the same chamber.
We were no sooner left alone than I began to rally my friend on the beauty of his mistress, and the earnest court he had been paying her. The youth listened with blushes of delight to her praises, but seemed not to have the least idea that he had been so fortunate as to make any impression on her mind. On the contrary, he scarcely appeared to be aware of having done any thing to attract attention from her, and expressed astonishment when I assured him, that his behaviour had been such as could not possibly admit of more than one explanation in the eyes of a person so quick and vivacious as the lovely Sempronia.
After we had both retired to our beds, and the lights were extinguished, we still continued for some time to talk over the incidents of our visit, and the future prospects of Sextus and his love; until at length sleep overpowered us in easy bonds, and agreeable dreams followed, I doubt not, in the hearts of us both, the thoughts and sights of a delightful day. Mine surely were delightful, for they were all of Athanasia. Yet, even in the visions of the night, I could never gaze[pg 47]on her face without some strange impression of mystery. I saw her placid smile—I heard the sweet low cadence of her voice—but I felt, and I could not feel it without a certain indescribable anxiety, that her deep thoughts were far away.
[pg 48]CHAPTER VI.I awoke early, and drew near to the bed of Sextus; but seeing that he was fast asleep, and that a quiet smile was on his lips, I could not think of awakening him. The sun shone bright into the apartment, and I resolved to walk forth and breathe the balmy air of the garden.The moisture was still heavy on the green paths, and the birds were singing among glittering leaves; the god-like statues stood unscathed in their silent beauty. I walked to and fro, enjoying the enchantment of the scene;—a new feeling of the beauty of all things seemed to have been breathed into my soul; and the pensive grace of Athanasia hovered over my imagination, like some presiding genius of the groves.I found myself near the favourite grotto, and had stood over against its entrance for some space, contemplating the augmented stream as it fell from the superincumbent rock, and regretting the ravage which the nightly tempest had made among the delicate flowers round its basin. Twice I thought I heard the murmurs of a voice, and twice I persuaded myself that it was only the rippling of the waters; but the third time I was satisfied that some person must be near. I passed[pg 49]between the water and the rock, and beheld the fair creature that had been occupying so many of my thoughts, kneeling far within the grotto, as it seemed, in supplication. To disturb her by advancing farther, would have been impious; to retire, without the risk of disturbing her, almost impossible; but I remained there fixed to the spot, without perhaps considering all these things as I should have done. The virgin modesty of her attitude was holy in my eyes, and the thought never occurred to me, that I might be doing wrong in permitting myself to witness the simple devotions of Athanasia.“Great God, listen to my prayers,”was all I understood of what she said; but she whispered for some moments in a lowly and fervent tone, and I saw that she kissed something with her lips ere she arose from her knees. She then plunged her hands into the well, by whose brink she had knelt, and turned round to the light.“Athanasia, forgive me,”was already on my lips; but on seeing me, she uttered a faint cry and fell prostrate upon the marble. I rushed forward, lifted up her head, and laved water from the fountain, till I saw her lips tremble. At last she opened her eyes, and after gazing on me wildly for a moment, she gathered her strength, and stood quite upright, supporting herself against the wall of the grotto.“Great heavens!”cried I,“in what have I offended, that I should be rendered the cause of affliction to Athanasia? Speak, lady, and say that you forgive me.”“I thought,”said she, with a proud calmness,“that Valerius was of Roman—of Patrician blood. What brings him to be a spy upon the secret moments of a Patrician maiden?”—Then bursting into a tone of[pg 50]unutterable fervour,“Speak,”said she,“young man, what have you heard? How long have you stood here? Am I betrayed?”“Witness, heaven and earth!”cried I, kneeling,“and witness every god, that I have heard nothing, except to know that you were praying. I have only seen you kneeling, and been guilty of gazing on your beauty.”“You heard not the words of my prayer?”said she.“No, not its words, Athanasia, nor any thing of its purpose.”“Do you swear this to me, young man?”“Yes, I swear by Jupiter and by Rome—as I am a man and a Roman, I know not, neither do I desire to know, any thing of what you said. Forgive me for the fault of my indiscretion—you have no other to forgive.”Athanasia paused for a moment, and then resuming more of her usual tone of voice, (although its accents were still somewhat disturbed and faltering,) said to me,“Valerius, since the thing is so, I have nothing to forgive. It is you that must pardon me for my suspicion.”“Distress me not, Athanasia,”said I,“by speaking such words.”“From this hour, then,”said she,“what has passed here is forgotten. We blot it from our memories;”—and with that, as if in token of the paction, she extended to me her hand. I kissed it as I knelt, and swore that all things were safe with me; but added, as I arose,“that I was afraid I should be promising more than I should be able to perform,—did I say I should be able to forget any hour, or any place, where I had seen Athanasia.”“Nay,”said she,“no compliment, or I shall begin to suspect you of insincerity.”I was then about to withdraw from the[pg 51]grotto; but seeing a scroll of parchment lying at the feet of Athanasia, I stooped, and presented it to her, saying,“I was afraid she might forget it.”She took it eagerly, and saying,“Of that there was no danger,”placed it in her bosom, within the folds of her tunic. She was then gathering up her black tresses, and fastening them hastily on the back part of her head, when we heard the sound of footsteps not far off, and beckoning to me to remain where I was, she darted from me, and in a moment vanished among the trees. I waited for a few minutes, and then stepping forth, beheld her walking at a distance, beside her sister, in the direction of the villa. They were soon lost among the paths, and I returned alone into the grotto.I sat down beside the dark well, wherein she had dipt her hands, and mused in a most disturbed mood on all the particulars of this strange and unexpected interview. Every motion of her features—every modulation of her voice, was present with me; I had gathered them all into my heart, and I felt that I must cherish them there for ever. From the first moment I saw her, my eyes had been constrained to gaze upon her with an interest quite novel to me; but now I knew that she could not smile, without making my heart faint within me, and that the least whisper of her voice was able to bring tears into mine eyes. Now I thought of my own unworthiness, and could not help saying to myself,“Why should a poor ignorant provincial, such as I am, be torturing myself with the thoughts of such a creature as this?”Then, again, some benign glance of hers would return before me, and I could not help having some faint hopes, that her[pg 52]innocent heart might be won to me by faithful unwearied love. But what always threw me back into despair, was the recollection of the mystery that I knew hung over her mind, although what it was I could not know. That she had been saying something in her prayers which could not be overheard without betraying her, she had herself confessed. What could be this secret, so cherished in dread, and in darkness?—A crime?—No crime could sully the clear bosom of her innocence. No consciousness of guilt could be concealed beneath that heavenly visage. But perhaps she had been made the confidante of some erring,—some unhappy friend. Perhaps, in her prayer, she had made mention of another’s name, and implored the pardon of another’s guilt. Last of all, why might it not be so, that the maiden loved, and was beloved again; that she might have some reason to regard any casual betrayal of her affection as a calamity; and that, having uttered the name of her lover in her secret supplications, her terrors might all have been occasioned by her apprehensions of my having overheard it? And yet there was something in the demeanour of Athanasia, that I could not bring myself to reconcile entirely with any one of these suppositions. Had she feared that I had overheard any confession of guilt,—even of the guilt of another,—surely some semblance of shame would have been mingled with her looks of terror. Had she apprehended only the discovery of an innocent love, surely her blushes would have been deeper, and her boldness less. Yet the last solution of the difficulty was that which haunted me the most powerfully.When I came forth into the open air, I perceived[pg 53]that the sun was already high in heaven, and proceeded in haste towards the villa, not doubting that Sextus and Capito would be astonished by the length of my absence. I found them and the ladies walking under the northern colonnade, having returned, as they told me, from a fruitless search after me through almost the whole of the garden. I looked to Athanasia, as if to signify that she well knew where I might have been found; but, although I saw that she understood my meaning, she said nothing in explanation. Sextus drew me aside shortly after, and told me, that his father had sent to inform him, that our presence was necessary in the city before supper-time, to attend a great entertainment which was to be given that evening by the lady whose cause he had successfully pleaded in the Forum on the preceding day; which lady, I now for the first time learned, was no other than the same Marcia Rubellia, to whom his father was very anxious the youth should be married. The success of this pleading had increased very much the wealth of the lady, and, of course, as Sextus well knew, the anxiety of Licinius for the proposed union; and to remain at the villa any longer, was, he said, entirely impossible, since he already suspected his father had not been quite pleased with him for leaving the Forum the day before, without staying to hear out a cause in which his duty, if not his inclination, ought to have made him feel so greatly interested.We bade adieu, therefore, to our kind host and the young ladies, not without more reluctance than either of us durst express, and ready promises to return soon again to the villa. We found Dromo and Boto waiting[pg 54]for us at the gate, the former of whom looked unutterable things, while the latter appeared to be as joyful in seeing me again, as if we had been parted for a twelvemonth. The two slaves were mounted on asses, but they led horses for our conveyance; so we mounted with all speed, and were soon beyond the beautiful enclosures of Capito. As soon as we were fairly out of sight of the house, Dromo began to ply Sextus with innumerable questions about the result of the visit, all of them in bad Greek; that, as he said, there might be no chance of what passed being understood by the Druid; for by that venerable designation, he informed us, the primitive Boto had already come to be best known in the vestibule of Licinius.“Ah!”quoth he,“there is no need for many words; I am sure my young master has not been behindhand with himself. If he has, it is no fault of mine, however. I put Opportunity into his hands, and she, you know, as the poets say, has only one lock of hair, and that is in front.”Sextus being very shy of entering into particulars, I found myself obliged to take upon me the satisfying of the curiosity of this inquisitive varlet, which I did in a manner that much astonished Sextus, who by no means suspected, that in the midst of my own attention to the other cousin, I had been able to take so much notice of what passed between him and Sempronia. However, the gentle youth took a little raillery all in good part, and we laughed loudly in unison at the triumphant capers which the whip of Dromo made his poor ass exhibit, in testimony of his satisfaction with the progress which all things appeared to be making. We[pg 55]reached the city about three hours after noon, and were told by the slaves in attendance, that Xerophrastes had gone out some time before, and that Licinius was already busy in arraying himself for the feast of Rubellia.
I awoke early, and drew near to the bed of Sextus; but seeing that he was fast asleep, and that a quiet smile was on his lips, I could not think of awakening him. The sun shone bright into the apartment, and I resolved to walk forth and breathe the balmy air of the garden.
The moisture was still heavy on the green paths, and the birds were singing among glittering leaves; the god-like statues stood unscathed in their silent beauty. I walked to and fro, enjoying the enchantment of the scene;—a new feeling of the beauty of all things seemed to have been breathed into my soul; and the pensive grace of Athanasia hovered over my imagination, like some presiding genius of the groves.
I found myself near the favourite grotto, and had stood over against its entrance for some space, contemplating the augmented stream as it fell from the superincumbent rock, and regretting the ravage which the nightly tempest had made among the delicate flowers round its basin. Twice I thought I heard the murmurs of a voice, and twice I persuaded myself that it was only the rippling of the waters; but the third time I was satisfied that some person must be near. I passed[pg 49]between the water and the rock, and beheld the fair creature that had been occupying so many of my thoughts, kneeling far within the grotto, as it seemed, in supplication. To disturb her by advancing farther, would have been impious; to retire, without the risk of disturbing her, almost impossible; but I remained there fixed to the spot, without perhaps considering all these things as I should have done. The virgin modesty of her attitude was holy in my eyes, and the thought never occurred to me, that I might be doing wrong in permitting myself to witness the simple devotions of Athanasia.“Great God, listen to my prayers,”was all I understood of what she said; but she whispered for some moments in a lowly and fervent tone, and I saw that she kissed something with her lips ere she arose from her knees. She then plunged her hands into the well, by whose brink she had knelt, and turned round to the light.“Athanasia, forgive me,”was already on my lips; but on seeing me, she uttered a faint cry and fell prostrate upon the marble. I rushed forward, lifted up her head, and laved water from the fountain, till I saw her lips tremble. At last she opened her eyes, and after gazing on me wildly for a moment, she gathered her strength, and stood quite upright, supporting herself against the wall of the grotto.“Great heavens!”cried I,“in what have I offended, that I should be rendered the cause of affliction to Athanasia? Speak, lady, and say that you forgive me.”
“I thought,”said she, with a proud calmness,“that Valerius was of Roman—of Patrician blood. What brings him to be a spy upon the secret moments of a Patrician maiden?”—Then bursting into a tone of[pg 50]unutterable fervour,“Speak,”said she,“young man, what have you heard? How long have you stood here? Am I betrayed?”
“Witness, heaven and earth!”cried I, kneeling,“and witness every god, that I have heard nothing, except to know that you were praying. I have only seen you kneeling, and been guilty of gazing on your beauty.”“You heard not the words of my prayer?”said she.“No, not its words, Athanasia, nor any thing of its purpose.”“Do you swear this to me, young man?”“Yes, I swear by Jupiter and by Rome—as I am a man and a Roman, I know not, neither do I desire to know, any thing of what you said. Forgive me for the fault of my indiscretion—you have no other to forgive.”
Athanasia paused for a moment, and then resuming more of her usual tone of voice, (although its accents were still somewhat disturbed and faltering,) said to me,“Valerius, since the thing is so, I have nothing to forgive. It is you that must pardon me for my suspicion.”“Distress me not, Athanasia,”said I,“by speaking such words.”“From this hour, then,”said she,“what has passed here is forgotten. We blot it from our memories;”—and with that, as if in token of the paction, she extended to me her hand. I kissed it as I knelt, and swore that all things were safe with me; but added, as I arose,“that I was afraid I should be promising more than I should be able to perform,—did I say I should be able to forget any hour, or any place, where I had seen Athanasia.”“Nay,”said she,“no compliment, or I shall begin to suspect you of insincerity.”I was then about to withdraw from the[pg 51]grotto; but seeing a scroll of parchment lying at the feet of Athanasia, I stooped, and presented it to her, saying,“I was afraid she might forget it.”She took it eagerly, and saying,“Of that there was no danger,”placed it in her bosom, within the folds of her tunic. She was then gathering up her black tresses, and fastening them hastily on the back part of her head, when we heard the sound of footsteps not far off, and beckoning to me to remain where I was, she darted from me, and in a moment vanished among the trees. I waited for a few minutes, and then stepping forth, beheld her walking at a distance, beside her sister, in the direction of the villa. They were soon lost among the paths, and I returned alone into the grotto.
I sat down beside the dark well, wherein she had dipt her hands, and mused in a most disturbed mood on all the particulars of this strange and unexpected interview. Every motion of her features—every modulation of her voice, was present with me; I had gathered them all into my heart, and I felt that I must cherish them there for ever. From the first moment I saw her, my eyes had been constrained to gaze upon her with an interest quite novel to me; but now I knew that she could not smile, without making my heart faint within me, and that the least whisper of her voice was able to bring tears into mine eyes. Now I thought of my own unworthiness, and could not help saying to myself,“Why should a poor ignorant provincial, such as I am, be torturing myself with the thoughts of such a creature as this?”Then, again, some benign glance of hers would return before me, and I could not help having some faint hopes, that her[pg 52]innocent heart might be won to me by faithful unwearied love. But what always threw me back into despair, was the recollection of the mystery that I knew hung over her mind, although what it was I could not know. That she had been saying something in her prayers which could not be overheard without betraying her, she had herself confessed. What could be this secret, so cherished in dread, and in darkness?—A crime?—No crime could sully the clear bosom of her innocence. No consciousness of guilt could be concealed beneath that heavenly visage. But perhaps she had been made the confidante of some erring,—some unhappy friend. Perhaps, in her prayer, she had made mention of another’s name, and implored the pardon of another’s guilt. Last of all, why might it not be so, that the maiden loved, and was beloved again; that she might have some reason to regard any casual betrayal of her affection as a calamity; and that, having uttered the name of her lover in her secret supplications, her terrors might all have been occasioned by her apprehensions of my having overheard it? And yet there was something in the demeanour of Athanasia, that I could not bring myself to reconcile entirely with any one of these suppositions. Had she feared that I had overheard any confession of guilt,—even of the guilt of another,—surely some semblance of shame would have been mingled with her looks of terror. Had she apprehended only the discovery of an innocent love, surely her blushes would have been deeper, and her boldness less. Yet the last solution of the difficulty was that which haunted me the most powerfully.
When I came forth into the open air, I perceived[pg 53]that the sun was already high in heaven, and proceeded in haste towards the villa, not doubting that Sextus and Capito would be astonished by the length of my absence. I found them and the ladies walking under the northern colonnade, having returned, as they told me, from a fruitless search after me through almost the whole of the garden. I looked to Athanasia, as if to signify that she well knew where I might have been found; but, although I saw that she understood my meaning, she said nothing in explanation. Sextus drew me aside shortly after, and told me, that his father had sent to inform him, that our presence was necessary in the city before supper-time, to attend a great entertainment which was to be given that evening by the lady whose cause he had successfully pleaded in the Forum on the preceding day; which lady, I now for the first time learned, was no other than the same Marcia Rubellia, to whom his father was very anxious the youth should be married. The success of this pleading had increased very much the wealth of the lady, and, of course, as Sextus well knew, the anxiety of Licinius for the proposed union; and to remain at the villa any longer, was, he said, entirely impossible, since he already suspected his father had not been quite pleased with him for leaving the Forum the day before, without staying to hear out a cause in which his duty, if not his inclination, ought to have made him feel so greatly interested.
We bade adieu, therefore, to our kind host and the young ladies, not without more reluctance than either of us durst express, and ready promises to return soon again to the villa. We found Dromo and Boto waiting[pg 54]for us at the gate, the former of whom looked unutterable things, while the latter appeared to be as joyful in seeing me again, as if we had been parted for a twelvemonth. The two slaves were mounted on asses, but they led horses for our conveyance; so we mounted with all speed, and were soon beyond the beautiful enclosures of Capito. As soon as we were fairly out of sight of the house, Dromo began to ply Sextus with innumerable questions about the result of the visit, all of them in bad Greek; that, as he said, there might be no chance of what passed being understood by the Druid; for by that venerable designation, he informed us, the primitive Boto had already come to be best known in the vestibule of Licinius.“Ah!”quoth he,“there is no need for many words; I am sure my young master has not been behindhand with himself. If he has, it is no fault of mine, however. I put Opportunity into his hands, and she, you know, as the poets say, has only one lock of hair, and that is in front.”
Sextus being very shy of entering into particulars, I found myself obliged to take upon me the satisfying of the curiosity of this inquisitive varlet, which I did in a manner that much astonished Sextus, who by no means suspected, that in the midst of my own attention to the other cousin, I had been able to take so much notice of what passed between him and Sempronia. However, the gentle youth took a little raillery all in good part, and we laughed loudly in unison at the triumphant capers which the whip of Dromo made his poor ass exhibit, in testimony of his satisfaction with the progress which all things appeared to be making. We[pg 55]reached the city about three hours after noon, and were told by the slaves in attendance, that Xerophrastes had gone out some time before, and that Licinius was already busy in arraying himself for the feast of Rubellia.