________________________________________________
_ PETRONIUS woke only about midday, and as usual greatly
wearied. The evening before he had been at one of Nero's feasts,
which was prolonged till late at night. For some time his health
had been failing. He said himself that he woke up benumbed, as it
were, and without power of collecting his thoughts. But the
morning bath and careful kneading of the body by trained slaves
hastened gradually the course of his slothful blood, roused him,
quickened him, restored his strength, so that he issued from the
elaeothesium, that is, the last division of the bath, as if he had risen
from the dead, with eyes gleaming from wit and gladness,
rejuvenated, filled with life, exquisite, so unapproachable that
Otho himself could not compare with him, and was really that
which he had been called, -- arbiter elegantiarum.
He visited the public baths rarely, only when some rhetor
happened there who roused admiration and who was spoken of in
the city, or when in the ephebias there were combats of
exceptional interest. Moreover, he had in his own "insula" private
baths which Celer, the famous contemporary of Severus, had
extended for him, reconstructed and arranged with such
uncommon taste that Nero himself acknowledged their excellence
over those of the Emperor, though the imperial baths were more
extensive and finished with incomparably greater luxury.
After that feast, at which he was bored by the jesting of Vatinius
with Nero, Lucan, and Seneca, he took part in a diatribe as to
whether woman has a soul. Rising late, he used, as was his custom,
the baths. Two enormous balneatores laid him on a cypress table
covered with snow-white Egyptian byssus, and with hands dipped
in perfumed olive oil began to rub his shapely body; and he waited
with closed eyes till the heat of the laconicum and the heat of their
hands passed through him and expelled weariness.
But after a certain time he spoke, and opened his eyes; he inquired
about the weather, and then about gems which the jeweller
Idomeneus had promised to send him for examination that day. It
appeared that the weather was beautiful, with a light breeze from
the Alban hills, and that the gems had not been brought. Petronius
closed his eyes again, and had given command to bear him to the
tepidarium, when from behind the curtain the nomenclator looked
in, announcing that young Marcus Vinicius, recently returned from
Asia Minor, had come to visit him.
Petronius ordered to admit the guest to the tepidarium, to which he
was borne himself. Vinicius was the son of his oldest sister, who
years before had married Marcus Vinicius, a man of consular
dignity from the time of Tiberius. The young man was serving then
under Corbulo against the Parthians, and at the close of the war
had returned to the city. Petronius had for him a certain weakness
bordering on attachment, for Marcus was beautiful and athletic,
a young man who knew how to preserve a certain aesthetic
measure in his profligacy; this, Petronius prized above everything.
"A greeting to Petronius," said the young man, entering the
tepidarium with a springy step. "May all the gods grant thee
success, but especially Asklcpios and Kypris, for under their
double protection nothing evil can meet one."
"I greet thee in Rome, and may thy rest be sweet after war," replied
Petronius, extending his hand from between the folds of soft
karbas stuff in which he was wrapped. "What's to be heard in
Armenia; or since thou wert in Asia, didst thou not stumble into
Bithynia?"
Petronius on a time had been proconsul in Bithynia, and, what is
more, he had governed with energy and justice. This was a
marvellous contrast in the character of a man noted for effeminacy
and love of luxury; hence he was fond of mentioning those times,
as they were a proof of what he had been, and of what he might
have become had it pleased him.
"I happened to visit Heraklea," answered Vinicius. "Corbulo sent
me there with an order to assemble reinforcements."
"Ah, Heraklea! I knew at Heraklea a certain maiden from Colchis,
for whom I would have given alI the divorced women of this city,
not excluding Poppaa. But these are old stories. Tell me now,
rather, what is to be heard from the Parthian boundary. It is true
that they weary me every Vologeses of them, and Tiridates and
Tigranes, -- those barbarians who, as young Arulenus insists, walk
on all fours at home, and pretend to be human only when in our
presence. But now people in Rome speak much of them, if only for
the reason that it is dangerous to speak of aught else."
"The war is going badly, and but for Corbulo might be turned to
defeat."
"Corbulo! by Bacchus! a real god of war, a genuine Mars, a great
leader, at the same time quick-tempered, honest, and dull. I love
him, even for this,-- that Nero is afraid of him."
"Corbulo is not a dull man."
"Perhaps thou art right, but for that matter it is all one. Dulness, as
Pyrrho says, is in no way worse than wisdom, and differs from it in
nothing."
Vinicius began to talk of the war; but when Petronius closed his
eyes again, the young man, seeing his uncle's tired and somewhat
emaciated face, changed the conversation, and inquired with a
certain interest about his health.
Petronius opened his eyes again.
Health! -- No. He did not feel well. He had not gone so far yet, it is
true, as young Sissena, who had lost sensation to such a degree that
when he was brought to the bath in the morning he inquired, "Am I
sitting?" But he was not well. Vinicius had just committed him to
the care of Askiepios and Kypris. But he, Petronius, did not
believe in Askiepios. It was not known even whose son that
Askiepios was, the son of Arsinoe or Koronis; and if the mother
was doubtful, what was to be said of the father? Who, in that time,
could be sure who his own father was?
Hereupon Petronius began to laugh; then he continued, -- "Two
years ago, it is true, I sent to Epidaurus three dozen live blackbirds
and a goblet of gold; but dost thou know why? I said to myself,
'Whether this helps or not, it will do me no harm.' Though people
make offerings to the gods yet, I believe that all think as I do, --
all, with the exception, perhaps, of muledrivers hired at the Porta
Capena by travellers. Besides Askiepios, I have had dealings with
sons of Askiepios. When I was troubled a little last year in the
bladder, they performed an incubation for me. I saw that they were
tricksters, but I said to myself: 'What harm! The world stands on
deceit, and life is an illusion. The soul is an illusion too. But one
must have reason enough to distinguish pleasant from painful
illusions.' I shall give command to burn in my hypocaustum,
cedar-wood sprinkled with ambergris, for during life I prefer
perfumes to stenches. As to Kypris, to whom thou hast also
confided me, I have known her guardianship to the extent that 1
have twinges in my right foot. But as to the rest she is a good
goddess! I suppose that thou wilt bear sooner or later white doves
to her altar."
"True," answered Vinicius. "The arrows of the Parthians have not
reached my body, but a dart of Amor has struck me --
unexpectedly, a few stadia from a gate of this city."
"By the white knees of the Graces! thou wilt tell me of this at a
leisure hour."
"I have come purposely to get thy advice," answered Marcus.
But at that moment the epilatores came, and occupied themselves
with Petronius. Marcus, throwing aside his tunic, entered a bath of
tepid water, for Petronius invited him to a plunge bath.
"Ah, I have not even asked whether thy feeling is reciprocated,"
said Pctronius, looking at the youthful body of Marcus, which was
as if cut out of marble. "Had Lysippos seen thee, thou wouldst be
ornamenting now the gate leading to the Palatine, as a statue of
Hercules in youth."
The young man smiled with satisfaction, and began to sink in the
bath, splashing warm water abundantly on the mosaic which
represented Hera at the moment when she was imploring Sleep to
lull Zeus to rest. Petronius looked at him with the satisfied eye of
an artist.
When Vinicius had finished and yielded himself in turn to the
epilatores, a lector came in with a bronze tube at his breast and
rolls of paper in the tube.
"Dost wish to listen?" asked Petronius.
"If it is thy creation, gladly!" answered the young tribune; "if not, I
prefer conversation. Poets seize people at present on every street
corner."
"Of course they do. Thou wilt not pass any basilica, bath, library,
or book-shop without seeing a poet gesticulating like a monkey.
Agrippa, on coming here from the East, mistook them for
madmen. And it is just such a time now. Caesar writes verses;
hence all follow in his steps. Only it is not permitted to write better
verses than Caesar, and for that reason I fear a little for Lucan. But
I write prose, with which, however, I do not honor myself or
others. What the lector has to read are codicilli of that poor
Fabricius Veiento."
"Why 'poor'?"
"Because it has been communicated to him that he must dwell in
Odyssa and not return to his domestic hearth till he receives a new
command. That Odyssey will be easier for him than for Ulysses,
since his wife is no Penelope. I need not tell thee, for that matter,
that he acted stupidly. But here no one takes things otherwise than
superficially. His is rather a wretched and dull little book, which
people have begun to read passionately only when the author is
banished. Now one hears on every side, 'Scandala! scandala!' and it
may be that Veiento invented some things; but I, who know the
city, know our patres and our women, assure thee that it is all paler
than reality. Meanwhile every man is searching in the book, -- for
himself with alarm, for his acquaintances with delight. At the
book-shop of Avirnus a hundred copyists are writing at dictation,
and its success is assured."
"Are not thy affairs in it?"
"They are; but the author is mistaken, for I am at once worse and
less flat than he represents me. Seest thou we have lost long since
the feeling of what is worthy or unworthy, -- and to me even it
seems that in real truth there is no difference between them,
though Seneca, Musonius, and Trasca pretend that they see it. To
me it is all one! By Hercules, I say what I think! I have preserved
loftiness, however, because I know what is deformed and what is
beautiful; but our poet, Bronzebeard, for example, the charioteer,
the singer, the actor, does not understand this."
"I am sorry, however, for Fabricius! He is a good companion."
"Vanity ruined the man. Every one suspected him, no one knew
certainly; but he could not contain himself, and told the secret on
all sides in confidence. Hast heard the history of Rufinus?"
"Then come to the frigidarium to cool; there I will tell thee."
They passed to the frigidarium, in the middle of which played a
fountain of bright rose-color, emitting the odor of violets. There
they sat in niches which were covered with velvet, and began to
cool themselves. Silence reigned for a time. Vinicius looked
awhile thoughtfully at a bronze faun which, bending over the arm
of a nymph, was seeking her lips eagerly with his lips.
"He is right," said the young man. "That is what is best in life."
"More or less! But besides this thou lovest war, for which I have
no liking, since under tents one's finger-nails break and cease to be
rosy. For that matter, every man has his preferences. Bronzebcard
loves song, especially his own; and old Scaurus his Corinthian
vase, which stands near his bed at night, and which he kisses when
he cannot sleep. He has kissed the edge off already. Tell me, dost
thou not write verses?"
"No; I have never composed a single hexameter."
"And dost thou not play on the lute and sing?"
"No."
"And dost thou drive a chariot?"
"I tried once in Antioch, but unsuccessfully."
"Then I am at rest concerning thee. And to what party in the
hippodrome dost thou belong?"
"To the Greens."
"Now I am perfectly at rest, especially since thou hast a large
property indeed, though thou art not so rich as Pallas or Seneca.
For seest thou, with us at present it is well to write verses, to sing
to a lute, to declaim, and to compete in the Circus; but better, and
especially safer, not to write verses, not to play, not to sing, and
not to compete in the Circus. Best of all, is it to know how to
admire when Bronzebeard admires. Thou art a comely young man;
hence Poppxa may fall in love with thee. This is thy only peril. But
no, she is too experienced; she cares for something else. She has
had enough of love with her two husbands; with the third she has
other views. Dost thou know that that stupid Otho loves her yet to
distraction? He walks on the cliffs of Spain, and sighs; he has so
lost his former habits, and so ceased to care for his person, that
three hours each day suffice him to dress his hair. \Vho could have
expected this of Otho?"
"I understand him," answered Vinicius; "but in his place I should
have done something else."
"What, namely?"
"I should have enrolled faithful legions of mountaineers of that
country. They are good soldiers, -- those Iberians."
"Vinicius! Vinicius! I almost wish to tell thee that thou wouldst not
have been capable of that. And knowest why? Such things are
done, but they are not mentioned even conditionally. As to me, in
his place, I should have laughed at Popp~ra, laughed at
Bronzebeard, and formed for myself legions, not of Iberian men,
however, but Iberian women. And what is more, I should have
written epigrams which I should not have read to any one, -- not
like that poor Rufinus."
"Thou wert to tell me his history."
"I will tell it in the unctorium."
But in the unctorium the attention of Vinicius was turned to other
objects; namely, to wonderful slave women who were waiting for
the bathers. Two of them, Africans, resembling noble statues of
ebony, began to anoint their bodies with delicate perfumes from
Arabia; others, Phrygians, skilled in hairdressing, held in their
hands, which were bending and flexible as serpents, combs and
mirrors of polished steel; two Grecian maidens from Kos, who
were simply like deities, waited as vestiplic~, till the moment
should come to put statuesque folds in the togas of the lords.
"By the cloud-scattering Zeus!" said Marcus Vinicius, "what a
choice thou hast!"
"I prefer choice to numbers," answered Petronius. "My whole
'familia' 1 in Rome does not exceed four hundred, and I judge that
for personal attendance only upstarts need a greater number of
people."
"More beautiful bodies even Bronzebeard does not possess," said
Vinicius, distending his nostrils.
"Thou art my relative," answered Petronius, with a certain friendly
indifference, "and I am neither so misanthropic as Barsus nor such
a pedant as Aulus Plautius."
When Vinicius heard this last name, he forgot the maidens from
Kos for a moment, and, raising his head vivaciously, inquired, --
"Whence did Aulus Plautius come to thy mind? Dost thou know
that after I had disjointed my arm outside the city, I passed a
number of days in his house? It happened that Plautius came up at
the moment when the accident happened, and, seeing that I was
suffering greatly, he took me to his house; there a slave of his, the
physician Merion, restored me to health. I wished to speak with
thee touching this very matter."
"Why? Is it because thou hast fallen in love with Pomponia
perchance? In that case I pity thee; she is not young, and she is
virtuous! I cannot imagine a worse combination. Brr!"
"Not with Pomponia -- eheu!" answered Vinicius.
"With whom, then?"
"If I knew myself with whom? But I do not know to a certainty her
name even, -- Lygia or Calhina? They call her Lygia in the house,
for she comes of the Lygian nation; but she has her own barbarian
name, Callina. It is a wonderful house, -- that of those Plautiuses.
There are many people in it; but it is quiet there as in the groves of
Subiacum. For a number of days I did not know that a divinity
dwelt in the house. Once about daybreak I saw her bathing in the
garden fountain; and I swear to thee by that foam from which
Aphrodite rose, that the rays of the dawn passed right through her
body. I thought that when the sun rose she would vanish before me
in the light, as the twilight of morning does. Since then, I have
seen her twice; and since then, too, I know not what rest is, I know
not what other desires are, I have no wish to know what the city
can give me. I want neither women, nor gold, nor Corinthian
bronze, nor amber, nor pearls, nor wine, nor feasts; I want only
Lygia. I am yearning for her, in sincerity I tell thee, Petronius, as
that Dream who is imaged on the Mosaic of thy tepidarium
yearned for Paisythea, -- whole days and night do I yearn."
"If she is a slave, then purchase her."
"She is not a slave."
"What is she? A freed woman of Plautius?"
"Never having been a slave, she could not be a freed woman."
"Who is she?"
"I know not, -- a king's daughter, or something of that sort."
"Thou dost rouse my curiosity, Vinicius."
"But if thou wish to listen, I will satisfy thy curiosity straightway.
Her story is not a long one. Thou art acquainted, perhaps
personally, with Vannius, king of the Suevi, who, expelled from
his country, spent a long time here in Rome, and became even
famous for his skilful play with dice, and his good driving of
chariots. Drusus put him on the throne again. Vannius, who was
really a strong man, ruled well at first, and warred with success;
afterward, however, he began to skin not only his neighbors, but
his own Suevi, too much. Thereupon Vanglo and Sido, two sister's
sons of his, and the sons of Vibilius, king of the Hermunduri,
determined to force him to Rome again -- to try his luck there at
dice."
"I remember; that is of recent Glaudian times."
"Yes! War broke out. Vannius summoned to his aid the Yazygi; his
dear nephews called in the Lygians, who, hearing of the riches of
Vannius, and enticed by the hope of booty, came in such numbers
that Caesar himself, Claudius, began to fear for the safety of the
boundary. Claudius did not wish to interfere in a war among
barbarians, but he wrote to Atelius Hister, who commanded the
legions of the Danube, to turn a watchful eye on the course of the
war, and not permit them to disturb our peace. Hister required,
thcn, of the Lygians a promise not to cross the boundary; to this
they not only agreed, but gave hostages, among whom were the
wife and daughter of their leader. It is known to thee that
barbarians take their wives and children to war with them. My
Lygia is the daughter of that leader."
"Whence dost thou know all this?"
"Aulus Plautius told it himself. The Lygians did not cross the
boundary, indeed; but barbarians come and go like a tempest. So
did the Lygians vanish with their wild-ox horns on their heads.
They killed Vannius's Suevi and Yazygi; but their own king fell.
They disappeared with their booty then, and the hostages remained
in Hister's hands. The mother died soon after, and Hister, not
knowing what to do with the daughter, sent her to Pornponius, the
governor of all Germany. He, at the close of the war with the Catti,
returned to Rome, where Claudius, as is known to thee, permitted
him to have a triumph. The maiden on that occasion walked after
the car of the conqueror; but, at the end of the solemnity, -- since
hostages cannot be considered captives, and since Pomponius did
not know what to do with her definitely -- he gave her to his sister
Pomponia Grsrcina, the wife of Plautius. In that house where all --
beginning with the masters and ending with the poultry in the
hen-house -- are virtuous, that maiden grew up as virtuous, alas! as
Grxcina herself, and so beautiful that even Poppae, if near her,
would seem like an autumn fig near an apple of the Hesperides."
"And what?"
"And I repeat to thee that from the moment when I saw how the
sun-rays at that fountain passed through her body, I fell in love to
distraction."
"She is as transparent as a lamprey eel, then, or a youthful
sardine?"
"Jest not, Petronius; but if the freedom with which I speak of my
desire misleads thee, know this, -- that bright garments frequently
cover deep wounds. I must tell thee, too, that, while returning from
Asia, I slept one night in the temple of Mopsus to have a prophetic
dream. Well, Mopsus appeared in a dream to me, and declared
that, through love, a great change in my life would take place."
"Pliny declares, as I hear, that he does not believe in the gods, but
he believes in dreams; and perhaps he is right. My jests do not
prevent me from thinking at times that in truth there is only one
deity, eternal, creative, all. powerful, Venus Genetrix. She brings
souls together; she unites bodies and things. Eros called the world
out of chaos. Whether he did well is another question; but, since
he did so, we should recognize his might, though we are free not to
bless it."
"Alas! Petronius, it is easier to find philosophy in the world than
wise counsel."
"Tell me, what is thy wish specially?"
"I wish to have Lygia. I wish that these arms of mine, which now
embrace only air, might embrace Lygia and press her to my bosom.
I wish to breathe with her breath. Were she a slave, I would give
Aulus for her one hundred maidens with feet whitened with lime
as a sign that they were exhibited on sale for the first time. I wish
to have her in my house till my head is as white as the top of
Soracte in winter."
"She is not a slave, but she belongs to the 'family' of Plautius; and
since she is a deserted maiden, she may be considered an 'alumna.'
Plautius might yield her to thee if he wished."
"Then it seems that thou knowest not Pomponia Graecina. Both
have become as much attached to her as if she were their own
daughter."
"Pomponia I know, -- a real cypress. If she were not the wife of
Aulus, she might be engaged as a mourner. Since the death of
Julius she has not thrown aside dark robes; and in general she
looks as if, while still alive, she were walking on the asphodel
meadow. She is, moreover, a 'one-man woman'; hence, among our
ladies of four and five divorces, she is straighrway a phoenix. But!
hast thou heard that in Upper Egypt the phoenix has just been
hatched out, as 'tis said? -- an event which happens not oftener
than once in five centuries."
"Petronius! Petronius! Let us talk of the phoenix some other time."
"What shall I tell thee, my Marcus? I know Aulus Plautius, who,
though he blames my mode of life, has for me a certain weakness,
and even respects me, perhaps, more than others, for he knows that
I have never been an informer like Domitius Afer, Tigellinus, and
a whole rabble of Ahenobarbus's intimates.1 Without pretending to
be a stoic, I have been offended more than once at acts of Nero,
which Seneca and Burrus looked at through their fingers. If it is
thy thought that I might do something for thee with Aulus, I am at
thy command."
"I judge that thou hast the power. Thou hast influence over him;
and, besides, thy mind possesses inexhaustible resources. If thou
wert to survey the position and speak with Plautius."
"Thou hast too great an idea of my influence and wit; but if that is
the only question, I will talk with Plautius as soon as they return to
the city."
"They returned two days since."
"In that case let us go to the triclinium, where a meal is now ready,
and when we have refreshed ourselves, let us give command to
bear us to Plautius."
"Thou hart ever been kind to me," answered Vinicius, with
vivacity; "but now I shall give command to rear thy statue among
my lares, -- just such a beauty as this one, -- and I will place
offerings before it."
Then he turned toward the statues which ornamented one entire
wall of the perfumed chamber, and pointing to the one which
represented Petronius as Hermes with a staff in his hand, he added,
-- "By the light of Helios! if the 'godlike' Alexander resembled
thee, I do not wonder at Helen."
And in that exclamation there was as much sincerity as flattery; for
Pc.tronius, though older and less athletic, was more beautiful than
even Vinicius. The women of Rome admired not only his pliant
mind and his taste, which gained for him the title Arbiter
cleganti~e, but also his body. This admiration was evident even on
the faces of those maidens from Kos who were arranging the folds
of his toga; and one of whom, whose name was Eunice, loving him
in secret, looked him in the eyes with submission and rapture. But
he did not even notice this; and, smiling at Vinicius, he quoted in
answer an expression of Seneca about woman, -- Animal impud
ens, etc. And then, placing an arm on the shoulders of his nephew,
he conducted him to the triclinium.
In the unctorium the two Grecian maidens, the Phrygians, and the
two Ethiopians began to put away the vessels with perfumes. But
at that moment, and beyond the curtain of the frigidarium,
appeared the heads of the halneatores, and a low "Psst!" was heard.
At that call one of the Grecians, the Phrygians, and the Ethiopians
sprang up quickly, and vanished in a twinkle behind the curtain. In
the baths began a moment of license which the inspector did not
prevent, for he took frequent part in such frolics himself. Petronius
suspected that they took place; but, as a prudent man, and one who
did not like to punish, he looked at them through his fingers.
In the unctorium only Eunice remained. She listened for a short
time to the voices and laughter which retreated in the direction of
the laconicum. At last she took the stool inlaid with amber and
ivory, on which Petronius had been sitting a short time before, and
put it carefully at his statue. The unctorium was full of sunlight
and the hues which came from the manycolored marbles with
which the wall was faced. Eunice stood on the stool, and, finding
herself at the level of the statue, cast her arms suddenly around its
neck; then, throwing back her golden hair, and pressing her rosy
body to the white marble, she pressed her lips with ecstasy to the
cold lips of Petronius.
1 Nero's name was originally I. Domitius Ahenobarbus. _
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