CHAPTER III.
IN THE "INSULA."
"Now, for a while I am as one who has cast off a nightmare," said Domitiato herself. "He is away--why he has attended Titus to the Sabine land Iknow not, unless the Emperor could not trust him in Rome--or may be, in hisgoodness he has done it to relieve me of his presence. I will go see mymother."
Domitia ordered her litter and bearers. She had no trinkets to put on,save the fish of cornelian. Her mother liked to see her tricked out, andusually when Domitia paid her a visit she adorned herself to please theold lady,--now she could not assume jewelry as she had lost all herarticles of precious stones and metal. So she hung the cornelian amuletabout her neck.
When a Roman lady went forth in palanquin, it was in some state. Beforeher went two heralds in livery, to clear the way and announce her comingat the houses where she purposed calling, then she had six bearers, andattendants of her own sex, carrying her scent bottles, kerchiefs, fans,and whatever she might think it possible she would require.
Domitia was impatient of display, but it had been imposed on her by theEmperor. "The Flavians," said he smiling, "must make a show in public."
A Roman lady was at this period expected to wear yellow hair, if she wouldbe in the fashion. Under the Flavians, it was a compliment to the reigningprinces to affect this color. It was true that the word _flavus_ meantanything in color, from mud upwards to what might be termed yellow bycourtesy. It was employed as descriptive of the Tiber, that was of thedingiest of drabs, and of the Campagna when every particle of vegetationwas burnt up on it, and the tone was that of the dust-heaps. But now thatthe parsnip-haired Flavians were divine and all-powerful, the adjectivewas employed to describe the harvest field and gold. Ladies talked oftheir hair as "flavan" when it had been dyed with saffron and dusted withgold. Not to have yellow hair was expressive of disaffection to thedynasty--so every lady who would be in the fashion, and every husband whowanted office, first bleached and then dyed their hair, and as hair wasoccasionally thin, they employed vast masses of padding and borrowed coilsfrom German "fraus" to make the utmost show of their loyalty to the augusthouse of the divine Flavii.
Domitia dared not be out of fashion, and she was constrained to submit tohaving her chestnut hair dredged with gold-dust before she went forth onher visit. For her, conspicuously to wear her hair in its natural colorwould at once have provoked animadversion, and been interpreted as apublication, in most defiant manner, of the domestic discord that was atopic of gossip in the saloons of Rome.
When she had entered her palanquin, she gave her orders and was carriedlightly down the sloping road into the Forum. This was crossed, and then,drawing back the curtains of her litter, she said:--
"Eboracus, tell the fellows not to go at once to the Carinae. I have afancy to see the wife of Paris the actor, in the _Insula_ of Castor andPollux."
She was playing with the fish suspended on her bosom, as she was beingconveyed down the hill, and the thought had come to her that she had notseen Glyceria for a long time, and that now was a good occasion as herhusband--whom these visits annoyed, and who had in fact forbidden them--wasabsent from Rome.
The porters at once entered the narrow, tortuous lanes, where the loftyblocks of buildings cut off all sun and made twilight in midday.
As Domitia stepped out of her litter, she saw coming down the street, aman much in the company of Domitian, for whom she entertained a particulardislike. He was a very dark man, and blind; his face was pointed, and hisnose long; he ran with projecting head, turning his sharp nose from sideto side, like a dog after game. His name was Valerius Messalinus.
One of his slaves whispered something into his ear, and he twisted abouthis head, and then came trotting in the direction of the litter ofDomitia.
"Quick," said she, "I must go in; I will not speak with that man. If heasks for me, say I am out--out of the litter."
She at once entered the block of lodgings, and impatiently waved back herheralds, who would have ascended the stairs before her and pompouslyannounced her arrival.
Taking Euphrosyne along with her, Domitia made her way towards theapartments of the crippled woman. But already the news had spread that menin the imperial livery had entered the building, and there was a rush tothe balustrade to see them.
When Domitia reached the first landing, she saw that the women andchildren, and such men as were there, had ranged themselves on eitherside, to give her passage, every face was smiling, and lit with pleasure,the men raised their forefingers and thumbs to their mouths, and the womenand children strove to catch her hand, or kneeling to touch, raise andkiss the hem of her dress.
If, at one time it had caused surprise that she a rich lady, should entera common haunt of the poor, it was now a matter of more than surprise, ofadmiration and delight--to welcome the sister-in-law of the Emperor, onewho it was whispered would some day be herself Empress, Augusta, and anobject of religious worship.
This sort of welcome always went to the heart of Domitia, and gave her achoke in the throat.
The great people never regarded the poor, save as nuisances. An emperorhad said of the populace that it was a wolf he held by the ears. And itwas wolf-like because brutally treated, pampered as to food given withoutpay, supplied with scenes of bloodshed, also without cost, in the arena,every encouragement to work taken from it, every demoralizing, barbarizinginfluence employed to degrade it.
The great people were supremely indifferent to the sufferings of thesmall, provided no hospitals for the poor who were sick, no orphanages forthe homeless children--let them die--and the faster the better,--that was onewish of the great;--then shall we be alone on the earth with our slaves.
Had these poor people hopes, ambitions, cares, sorrows? Did they lovetheir wives, and hold to their hearts their cubs of children? Did theyhave any desire that their children should grow up to be good men andvirtuous women? Oh, no! such rabble were not of one blood with the rich.They had no fine feelings, they were like the beasts; they were withouthuman souls; and so, when the poor died their bodies were rammed downwells contrived to contain a thousand corpses at a time, and then heapedover with a little earth.
But Domitia had learned that it was not as supposed. Amidst the falsity,barbarity of heart, and coarseness of mind of such as were of the nobleRoman order,--the cultured, the rich, the philosophic--there was nosincerity, no truth. She felt happier and better after one of these visitsto the _Insula_ in the Suburra as though her lungs had inhaled a pureratmosphere. To the smiles and kisses and blessings lavished on her, sheanswered with kindly courtesy--and then stepped into the room of theparalyzed woman. Glyceria was as much a cripple as when first visited. Shewas more wasted--some time had passed--but she hardly seemed older, onlymore beautiful in her purity, a diaphanous lamp of mother-of-pearl throughwhich shone a supernatural light.
Domitia drew a deep sigh.
"Glyceria," she said, "when I come here, it is to me like seeing a glimpseof blue sky after a day of rain, or--like the scent of violets that came onme the first time I visited you."
"And when you, lady, come to me, it is as though a sunbeam shone into mydark chamber."
"Nay, nay--no flattery from thee, or I shall hate thee. I get that till itcloys. But tell me now, times have been better, and why has not Parismoved into superior quarters? Surely he is in better employ and pay thanof old."
"It is so, but only to a small degree," answered the actor's wife. "Parisperforms in the grand old dramas in Greek only; in those of AEschylus andEurypides and Sophocles, he is a tragic actor,--and--" the poor womansmiled, "perhaps home troubles have taken the laughter out of him. He is asad bungler in comedy. Now the taste of Rome is not for the masterpiecesof the ancients. The people clamor to see an elephant dance on atight-rope, and a man crucified who pours forth blood enough to swamp thestage--the Laureolus! that is the piece to bring down the house. Or somebit of buffoonery and indecency. To that the people crowd. Howe
ver, welive; I hang as a log about my Paris's neck, but thank God, he loves hislog and would not be rid of it, so I am content."
"But if you will suffer me to assist you," said Domitia.
Glyceria shook her head. "No, dear lady, do not take it ill if I refuseyour kind offer, made, not for the first time. I am very happy here,very--with these dear kind people about me, running in and out all the day,offering their gracious good wishes, lending their ready help. On my word,lady! I do believe that they would all be in tears and feel it as a slightif I were to go; and for myself, I could never be happy away from them."
Domitia stood up and went to the door. Her heart swelled in her bosom.
"None but the poor know," said the cripple, "how kind, how tender the poorare to one another. Poverty is a brotherhood--we are all of one blood, andone heart."
"And I--" said the great lady, looking out on the balcony with its swarm ofpeople, some busy, some idle, most merry--"And I--" said she, dreamily--"Ilove the poor."
"Then," said a low firm voice, "thou art not far from the Kingdom ofHeaven."
She turned and started.
She recollected him, that stately man with deep, soft eyes. Luke, thePhysician.
"I am not surprised," he added, "if you be His disciple," and he touchedthe cornelian fish.
It was not strange that in this splendid lady with golden hair he did notrecognize the timid, crushed girl with auburn locks, he had seen on theArtemis.
But the recollection of that night came back with a rush like a tidalwave, over Domitia, and she threw forth the question, "Why did you cut thethong?"
He did not comprehend her. She saw it, and added, "You do not recollectme. Do you not recall when we nearly ran down the galley of that monsterNero? On that night, we would have sent him to the bottom of the sea, butfor you,--you spoiled it all; you cut the thong of the rudder. Why did youprevent us from doing it?"
"Because," answered the physician, "It is written, Vengeance is mine, Iwill repay, saith the Lord. It was not for you to do it. You were notcalled to be the minister of His sentence."
"I understand you not."
"My daughter----"
"Hold!" said Domitia, rearing herself up. "Dost thou know to whom thouaddressest thyself? I--I thy daughter? I am Domitia Longina, daughter ofthe great Corbulo, and--" but she would not add, "wife of the CaesarDomitian."
"Well, lady," said Luke, "forgive me. I thought, seeing that sign on thybreast, and hearing thee say that thou didst love the poor, that thou wastone whom, whatever thy rank and wealth and position I might so address,not indeed as one of the Brethren, but as a hearer and a seeker--enough--Iwas mistaken."
"What means this fish?" asked Domitia, her wounded pride oozing away atonce. "I pray you forgive me. I spoke hastily."
"The fish," said he--
But before he could offer any explanation, Paris appeared, his faceexpressive of alarm; he had seen the servants in the imperial white below,and knew therefore whom to find in his wife's lodgings.
He hastily saluted her and said:--
"Lady! I beseech thee to go at once. Something has occurred most grave.Return immediately to the palace."
"What is it? Tell me."
"Madam, I dare not name it, lest it be untrue. To speak of it if untruewere to be guilty of High Treason."
"High Treason!" gasped Domitia. She knew what such a charge entailed.
"The Caesar Domitian has passed at full gallop through the streets, hisattendants behind him."
"Whither has he gone?"
"To the Praetorian barracks."
"Ye Gods!" spoke Domitia, she could not raise her voice above a whisper."Then the worst has happened. My light is out once more."