Last Days of Pompeii Part 2

'I never buy women,' said the Greek, carelessly rearranging his chaplet.

The musicians, who were stationed in the portico without, had commenced their office with the kid; they now directed the melody into a more soft, a more gay, yet it may be a more intellectual strain; and they chanted that song of Horace beginning 'Persicos odi', etc., so impossible to translate, and which they imagined applicable to a feast that, effeminate as it seems to us, was simple enough for the gorgeous revelry of the time. We are witnessing the domestic, and not the princely feast-the entertainment of a gentleman, not an emperor or a senator.

'Ah, good old Horace!' said Sall.u.s.t, compa.s.sionately; 'he sang well of feasts and girls, but not like our modern poets.'

'The immortal Fulvius, for instance,' said Clodius.

'Ah, Fulvius, the immortal!' said the umbra.

'And Spuraena; and Caius Mutius, who wrote three epics in a year-could Horace do that, or Virgil either said Lepidus. 'Those old poets all fell into the mistake of copying sculpture instead of painting. Simplicity and repose-that was their notion; but we moderns have fire, and pa.s.sion, and energy-we never sleep, we imitate the colors of painting, its life, and its action. Immortal Fulvius!'

'By the way,' said Sall.u.s.t, 'have you seen the new ode by Spuraena, in honour of our Egyptian Isis? It is magnificent-the true religious fervor.'

'Isis seems a favorite divinity at Pompeii,' said Glaucus.

'Yes!' said Pansa, 'she is exceedingly in repute just at this moment; her statue has been uttering the most remarkable oracles. I am not superst.i.tious, but I must confess that she has more than once a.s.sisted me materially in my magistracy with her advice. Her priests are so pious, too! none of your gay, none of your proud, ministers of Jupiter and Fortune: they walk barefoot, eat no meat, and pa.s.s the greater part of the night in solitary devotion!'

'An example to our other priesthoods, indeed!-Jupiter's temple wants reforming sadly,' said Lepidus, who was a great reformer for all but himself.

'They say that Arbaces the Egyptian has imparted some most solemn mysteries to the priests of Isis,' observed Sall.u.s.t. 'He boasts his descent from the race of Rameses, and declares that in his family the secrets of remotest antiquity are treasured.'

'He certainly possesses the gift of the evil eye,' said Clodius. 'If I ever come upon that Medusa front without the previous charm, I am sure to lose a favorite horse, or throw the canes nine times running.'

'The last would be indeed a miracle!' said Sall.u.s.t, gravely.

'How mean you, Sall.u.s.t?' returned the gamester, with a flushed brow.

'I mean, what you would leave me if I played often with you; and that is-nothing.'

Clodius answered only by a smile of disdain.

'If Arbaces were not so rich,' said Pansa, with a stately air, 'I should stretch my authority a little, and inquire into the truth of the report which calls him an astrologer and a sorcerer. Agrippa, when aedile of Rome, banished all such terrible citizens. But a rich man-it is the duty of an aedile to protect the rich!'

'What think you of this new sect, which I am told has even a few proselytes in Pompeii, these followers of the Hebrew G.o.d-Christus?'

'Oh, mere speculative visionaries,' said Clodius; 'they have not a single gentleman amongst them; their proselytes are poor, insignificant, ignorant people!'

'Who ought, however, to be crucified for their blasphemy,' said Pansa, with vehemence; 'they deny Venus and Jove! Nazarene is but another name for atheist. Let me catch them-that's all.'

The second course was gone-the feasters fell back on their couches-there was a pause while they listened to the soft voices of the South, and the music of the Arcadian reed. Glaucus was the most rapt and the least inclined to break the silence, but Clodius began already to think that they wasted time.

'Bene vobis! (Your health!) my Glaucus,' said he, quaffing a cup to each letter of the Greek's name, with the ease of the practised drinker. 'Will you not be avenged on your ill-fortune of yesterday? See, the dice court us.'

'As you will,' said Glaucus.

'The dice in summer, and I an aedile!' said Pansa, magisterially; 'it is against all law.'

'Not in your presence, grave Pansa,' returned Clodius, rattling the dice in a long box; 'your presence restrains all license: it is not the thing, but the excess of the thing, that hurts.'

'What wisdom!' muttered the umbra.

'Well, I will look another way,' said the aedile.

'Not yet, good Pansa; let us wait till we have supped,' said Glaucus.

Clodius reluctantly yielded, concealing his vexation with a yawn.

'He gapes to devour the gold,' whispered Lepidus to Sall.u.s.t, in a quotation from the Aulularia of Plautus.

'Ah! how well I know these polypi, who hold all they touch,' answered Sall.u.s.t, in the same tone, and out of the same play.

The third course, consisting of a variety of fruits, pistachio nuts, sweetmeats, tarts, and confectionery tortured into a thousand fantastic and airy shapes, was now placed upon the table; and the ministri, or attendants, also set there the wine (which had hitherto been handed round to the guests) in large jugs of gla.s.s, each bearing upon it the schedule of its age and quality.

'Taste this Lesbian, my Pansa,' said Sall.u.s.t; 'it is excellent.'

'It is not very old,' said Glaucus, 'but it has been made precocious, like ourselves, by being put to the fire:-the wine to the flames of Vulcan-we to those of his wife-to whose honour I pour this cup.'

'It is delicate,' said Pansa, 'but there is perhaps the least particle too much of rosin in its flavor.'

'What a beautiful cup!' cried Clodius, taking up one of transparent crystal, the handles of which were wrought with gems, and twisted in the shape of serpents, the favorite fas.h.i.+on at Pompeii.

'This ring,' said Glaucus, taking a costly jewel from the first joint of his finger and hanging it on the handle, 'gives it a richer show, and renders it less unworthy of thy acceptance, my Clodius, on whom may the G.o.ds bestow health and fortune, long and oft to crown it to the brim!'

'You are too generous, Glaucus,' said the gamester, handing the cup to his slave; 'but your love gives it a double value.'

'This cup to the Graces!' said Pansa, and he thrice emptied his calix. The guests followed his example.

'We have appointed no director to the feast,' cried Sall.u.s.t.

'Let us throw for him, then,' said Clodius, rattling the dice-box.

'Nay,' cried Glaucus, 'no cold and trite director for us: no dictator of the banquet; no rex convivii. Have not the Romans sworn never to obey a king? Shall we be less free than your ancestors? Ho! musicians, let us have the song I composed the other night: it has a verse on this subject, "The Bacchic hymn of the Hours".'

The musicians struck their instruments to a wild Ionic air, while the youngest voice in the band chanted forth, in Greek words, as numbers, the following strain:- THE EVENING HYMN OF THE HOURS

I

Through the summer day, through the weary day, We have glided long; Ere we speed to the Night through her portals grey, Hail us with song!- With song, with song, With a bright and joyous song; Such as the Cretan maid, While the twilight made her bolder, Woke, high through the ivy shade, When the wine-G.o.d first consoled her.

From the hush'd, low-breathing skies, Half-shut look'd their starry eyes, And all around, With a loving sound, The AEgean waves were creeping: On her lap lay the lynx's head; Wild thyme was her bridal bed; And aye through each tiny s.p.a.ce, In the green vine's green embrace The Fauns were slily peeping- The Fauns, the prying Fauns- The arch, the laughing Fauns- The Fauns were slily peeping!

II

Flagging and faint are we With our ceaseless flight, And dull shall our journey be Through the realm of night, Bathe us, O bathe our weary wings In the purple wave, as it freshly springs To your cups from the fount of light- From the fount of light-from the fount of light,

For there, when the sun has gone down in night, There in the bowl we find him.

The grape is the well of that summer sun, Or rather the stream that he gazed upon, Till he left in truth, like the Thespian youth, His soul, as he gazed, behind him.

III

A cup to Jove, and a cup to Love, And a cup to the son of Maia; And honour with three, the band zone-free, The band of the bright Aglaia.

But since every bud in the wreath of pleasure Ye owe to the sister Hours, No stinted cups, in a formal measure, The Bromian law makes ours.

He honors us most who gives us most, And boasts, with a Baccha.n.a.l's honest boast, He never will count the treasure.

Fastly we fleet, then seize our wings, And plunge us deep in the sparkling springs; And aye, as we rise with a dripping plume, We'll scatter the spray round the garland's bloom; We glow-we glow, Behold, as the girls of the Eastern wave Bore once with a shout to the crystal cave The prize of the Mysian Hylas, Even so-even so, We have caught the young G.o.d in our warm embrace We hurry him on in our laughing race; We hurry him on, with a whoop and song, The cloudy rivers of night along- Ho, ho!-we have caught thee, Psilas!

The guests applauded loudly. When the poet is your host, his verses are sure to charm.

'Thoroughly Greek,' said Lepidus: 'the wildness, force, and energy of that tongue, it is impossible to imitate in the Roman poetry.'

'It is, indeed, a great contrast,' said Clodius, ironically at heart, though not in appearance, 'to the old-fas.h.i.+oned and tame simplicity of that ode of Horace which we heard before. The air is beautifully Ionic: the word puts me in mind of a toast-Companions, I give you the beautiful Ione.'

'Ione!-the name is Greek,' said Glaucus, in a soft voice. 'I drink the health with delight. But who is Ione?'

'Ah! you have but just come to Pompeii, or you would deserve ostracism for your ignorance,' said Lepidus, conceitedly; 'not to know Ione, is not to know the chief charm of our city.'

'She is of the most rare beauty,' said Pansa; 'and what a voice!'

'She can feed only on nightingales' tongues,' said Clodius.

'Nightingales' tongues!-beautiful thought!' sighed the umbra.

'Enlighten me, I beseech you,' said Glaucus.

'Know then...' began Lepidus.

'Let me speak,' cried Clodius; 'you drawl out your words as if you spoke tortoises.'

'And you speak stones,' muttered the c.o.xcomb to himself, as he fell back disdainfully on his couch.

'Know then, my Glaucus,' said Clodius, 'that Ione is a stranger who has but lately come to Pompeii. She sings like Sappho, and her songs are her own composing; and as for the tibia, and the cithara, and the lyre, I know not in which she most outdoes the Muses. Her beauty is most dazzling. Her house is perfect; such taste-such gems-such bronzes! She is rich, and generous as she is rich.'

'Her lovers, of course,' said Glaucus, 'take care that she does not starve; and money lightly won is always lavishly spent.'

'Her lovers-ah, there is the enigma!-Ione has but one vice-she is chaste. She has all Pompeii at her feet, and she has no lovers: she will not even marry.'

'No lovers!' echoed Glaucus.

'No; she has the soul of Vestal with the girdle of Venus.'

'What refined expressions!' said the umbra.

'A miracle!' cried Glaucus. 'Can we not see her?'

'I will take you there this evening, said Clodius; 'meanwhile...' added he, once more rattling the dice.

'I am yours!' said the complaisant Glaucus. 'Pansa, turn your face!'

Lepidus and Sall.u.s.t played at odd and even, and the umbra looked on, while Glaucus and Clodius became gradually absorbed in the chances of the dice.

'By Pollux!' cried Glaucus, 'this is the second time I have thrown the caniculae' (the lowest throw).

'Now Venus befriend me!' said Clodius, rattling the box for several moments. 'O Alma Venus-it is Venus herself!' as he threw the highest cast, named from that G.o.ddess-whom he who wins money, indeed, usually propitiates!

'Venus is ungrateful to me,' said Glaucus, gaily; 'I have always sacrificed on her altar.'

'He who plays with Clodius,' whispered Lepidus, 'will soon, like Plautus's Curculio, put his pallium for the stakes.'

'Poor Glaucus!-he is as blind as Fortune herself,' replied Sall.u.s.t, in the same tone.

'I will play no more,' said Glaucus; 'I have lost thirty sestertia.'

'I am sorry...' began Clodius.

'Amiable man!' groaned the umbra.

'Not at all!' exclaimed Glaucus; 'the pleasure I take in your gain compensates the pain of my loss.'

The conversation now grew general and animated; the wine circulated more freely; and Ione once more became the subject of eulogy to the guests of Glaucus.

'Instead of out.w.a.tching the stars, let us visit one at whose beauty the stars grow pale,' said Lepidus.

Clodius, who saw no chance of renewing the dice, seconded the proposal; and Glaucus, though he civilly pressed his guests to continue the banquet, could not but let them see that his curiosity had been excited by the praises of Ione: they therefore resolved to adjourn (all, at least, but Pansa and the umbra) to the house of the fair Greek. They drank, therefore, to the health of Glaucus and of t.i.tus-they performed their last libation-they resumed their slippers-they descended the stairs-pa.s.sed the illumined atrium-and walking unbitten over the fierce dog painted on the threshold, found themselves beneath the light of the moon just risen, in the lively and still crowded streets of Pompeii.

They pa.s.sed the jewellers' quarter, sparkling with lights, caught and reflected by the gems displayed in the shops, and arrived at last at the door of Ione. The vestibule blazed with rows of lamps; curtains of embroidered purple hung on either aperture of the tablinum, whose walls and mosaic pavement glowed with the richest colors of the artist; and under the portico which surrounded the odorous viridarium they found Ione, already surrounded by adoring and applauding guests!

'Did you say she was Athenian?' whispered Glaucus, ere he pa.s.sed into the peristyle.

'No, she is from Neapolis.'

'Neapolis!' echoed Glaucus; and at that moment the group, dividing on either side of Ione, gave to his view that bright, that nymph-like beauty, which for months had shone down upon the waters of his memory.