CHAPTER VIII.
THE SWORD OF THE DEAD.
"It is well done," said Eboracus in an undertone to the physician;"Otherwise there had been the cross for you and me. The thong broke."
"I severed it," said Luke.
"That I saw," said the slave, "I shall report that it yielded. One mustobey a master even to the risk of the cross. Did'st see the noble Lamia,how ready he was? He assumed the mask of my dead master and we haveslipped by and sent a shiver through the whole company of the Trireme, andthe August too, I trow,--for they have thought us the Ship of the Dead."
After a pause he said,--"In my home we hold that all souls go to sea in aphantom vessel; and sail away to the West, to the Isles of the Blessed. Atnight a dark ship with a sail as a thundercloud comes to the shore, andthose near can hear the dead in trains go over the beach and enter theghostly vessel, till she is laden, and then she departs."
The Artemis made her way without disaster to Rhegium, and thence coastedup Italy to the port of Rome. She had gained on the Imperial vessel, thatwas delayed at Brundusium to collect the scattered fleet. Nero would notland until he reached Neapolis, and then not till all his wreaths andgolden apples, as well as his entire wardrobe of costumes and propertieshad arrived.
Then only did he come ashore, and he did so to commence a triumphalprogress through the Peninsula, the like of which was never seen beforenor will be seen again.
This was on the 19th March, the anniversary of the murder of his mother.On the same day a letter was put into his hands announcing the revolt ofthe legions in Gaul and the proclamation of Galba, at that time Governorof Spain.
So engrossed, however, was his mind with preparation for his theatricalprocession, that he paid no heed to the news, nor was he roused till heread the address of Vindex, who led the revolt, denouncing him as a"miserable fiddler."
This touched him to the quick, and he addressed an indignant despatch tothe Senate, demanding that Vindex should be chastised, and appealed to theprizes he had gained as testimony to his musical abilities.
So he started for Rome.
Eighteen hundred and eight heralds strutted before him, bearing in theirhands the crowns that had been awarded him and announcing when and how hehad succeeded in winning the award.
He entered Rome in this leisurely manner, in a triumphal chariot, wearinga purple robe, embroidered with gold, an olive garland about his head.Beside him a harper struck his instrument and chanted his praises.
The houses were decorated with festoons, the streets were strewn withsaffron; singing birds, comfits, flowers were scattered by the peoplebefore him. If the Senate expected that now the prince was in Rome, hewould attend to business, it was vastly mistaken. His first concern was toarrange for a splendid exhibition in which he might gratify the publicwith a finished study of his acting and singing.
Solicitude about his triumph, his voice, his reception, had so completelyfilled the shallow mind of Nero, that he gave no further thought to thevessel that had shot out of the darkness, nearly fouled his galley, andwhich had been apparently commanded by one of his noblest victims.
Longa Duilia arrived on the Gabian estate, with the corpse of her husband,her daughter, Lucius Lamia, and her entire "family," as the company ofhousehold slaves was termed, without accident and without deter.
Gabii lay eleven miles from Rome at the foot of one of the spurs of theAlban mountains. The town stood on a small knoll rising out of theCampagna. The stone of which it was built was dark, being a volcanicpeperino; it was perhaps one of the least attractive sites for a countryresidence, which a Roman noble could have selected; but this was notwithout its advantage, when Emperors acted as did Ahab, and cut off thosewhose villas and vineyards attracted their covetous eyes.
A lake occupied the crater of an extinct volcano; the water was dark asink, but this was due rather to the character of the bottom, than todepth, which was inconsiderable.
The villa and its gardens lay by the water's edge. The old city notflourishing, but maintaining a languid existence, was famous for nothingbut a peculiarity in girding the toga adopted by the men, by the dinginessof its building stone, and by its temple of Juno, an object of pilgrimagewhen the deities of other shrines had proved unwilling or unable to help,a sort of pis-aller of devotion.
Longa Duilia hated the place; it was dull, and she would never havefrequented it, had it not been the fashion at the period for all people ofgood family to affect a love of retirement into the country, and topretend a taste for simplicity of rural life. Some fine fops had their"chambers of poverty" to which on occasions they retired, to lie on matsupon the ground, and eat pulse out of common earthenware. Such periods ofself-denial added zest to luxury.
Domitia, on the other hand, was attached to the place. It was associatedwith the innocent pleasures of earliest childhood. Its spring flowers werethe loveliest she had ever culled, its June strawberries the mostdelicious she had ever eaten. And the lake teeming with char gaveopportunities for boating and fishing.
Here was the family burial-place; and here Corbulo was to be burnt, andthen his ashes collected and consigned to the mausoleum.
Messengers had been sent forth to invite the attendance of all relations,acquaintances and dependents.
The invitation was couched, according to unalterable custom, in antiquatedterms, hardly intelligible. When on the day appointed for the ceremony,vast numbers were collected, the funeral procession started.
First went the musicians under the conduct of a Master of the Ceremonies.By law, the number of flautists was limited to ten.
Then followed the professional mourners, hired for the occasion from thetemple of Libitina, the priests of which were the licensed undertakers.These mourners chanted the naenia, a lament composed for the purpose oflauding the acts of the deceased and of reciting his honors. When theypaused at the conclusion of a strophe, horns and trumpets brayed.Immediately after the wailers walked a train of actors, one of whom wasdressed in the insignia of the deceased and wore a mask representing him.He endeavored to mimic each peculiarity of the man he personated, andbuffoons around by their antics and jests provoked the spectators tolaughter. This farcical exhibition was calculated to moderate theexcessive grief superinduced by the lament of the wailers.
Then came the grand procession of the ancestors, especially dear to theheart of the widow. Not only did the effigies of the direct forefathersappear, but all related families trotted out their ancestors, to attendthe illustrious dead, so that there cannot have been less than a hundredpresent.
As already mentioned, the wax masks of the dead of a family ornamentedevery nobleman's hall, usually enclosed in boxes with the titles of thedefunct inscribed on them in gold characters. These were now produced. Themimes were costumed appropriately, as senators, generals, magistrates,with their attendants, wearing the wax masks, and artificial heads ofhair.
The idea represented was that of the ancestors having returned from theland of Shadows to fetch their descendant and accompany him to the netherworld. The corpse, that lay on a bier in the hall, was now taken up, andcarried forth to a loud cry from all in the house of "Vale! Farewell! Farethee well!" Between the lips of the dead man was a coin, placed there aspayment of the toll across the River of Death in the ferry-boat of Charon.On each side of the bier walked attendants carrying lighted torches. Inancient times all funerals had been conducted at night. Now the onlyreminiscence of this custom was in the bearing of lights; but the torchesserved as well a practical purpose, as they were employed to kindle thepyre.
Before the dead were carried the insignia of his offices, pictures of thebattles he had won and statues of the kings and chiefs he had conquered.The corpse was followed by a number of manumitted slaves, all wearing thecap of liberty, in token of their freedom. Finally came the members of thefamily, friends, retainers, and the sympathizing public.
Longa Duilia and Domitia Longina walked in their proper place, withdisheve
lled hair, unveiled heads, and in the _ricinium_ or black garmentthrown over their tunics; the men all wore the _paenula_, or shorttravelling cloak.
The procession advanced into the marketplace of Gabii, where Lucius Lamiaascended the _rostrum_ to pronounce the funeral oration.
Immediately, ivory chairs and inlaid stools were ranged in a crescentbefore him, and on these the ancestors seated themselves, the bier beingplaced before them.
The panegyric was addressed to the crowd outside the circle of mimes withwax faces. Lamia had a gift of natural eloquence, his feelings wereengaged, but his freedom of speech was hampered by necessity of caution inallusion to the death of Corbulo, lest some word should be let slip whichmight be caught up and tortured into a treasonable reference to Nero.
The Laudation ended, the entire assembly arose and re-formed in processionto the place of burning, which by law must be sixty feet from anybuilding. There a pit had been excavated and a grating placed above it. Onthis grating the pyre was erected, consisting of precious woods, sprinkledwith gums and spices.
To this the corpse was conveyed. But, previous to its being placed on thefagots, a surgeon amputated one of the fingers, which was preserved forburial, and then a handful of earth was thrown over the face of thedeceased.
Anciently the Roman dead had been buried, and when the fashion forincineration came in, a trace of the earlier usage remained in the burialof a member and the covering of the face with soil.
And now ensued a repulsive scene, one without which no great man's funeralwould have been considered as properly performed.
Through the crowd pushed two small parties of gladiators, three in each,hired for the occasion of a company that let them out. Then ensued afight--not mimic, but very real, in front and round the pyre. Now ahard-pressed gladiator ran and was pursued, turned sharply and hacked athis follower. This was continued till three men had fallen and had beenstabbed in the breast. Whereupon, the survivors sheathed their swords,bowed and withdrew.
The torches were now put into the hands of Duilia and Domitia, and withaverted faces they applied the fire to the fagot, and a sheet of flameroared up and enveloped the dead man.
And now the mourners raised their loudest cries, tore their hair,scarified their cheeks with their nails; pipes, flutes, horns were blown.In a paroxysm of distress, partly real, partly feigned, a rush was made tothe pyre, and all who got near cast some offering into the flames--cakes,flowers, precious stuffs, rings, bracelets, and coins.
Duilia, in tragic woe, disengaged a mass of artificial hair from her head,and cast it into the fire. Then rang out the sacramental cry:--"_I, licet!_You are permitted to retire," and gladly, sick at heart and faint, Domitiawas supported rather than walked home.
Some hours later, when the ashes of the defunct had been collected anddeposited in an urn, which was conveyed to the mausoleum, Lucius Lamiacame to the house and inquired for the ladies.
He was informed that the widow was too much overcome by her feelings tosee any one, but that Domitia was in the _tablinum_ and would receive him.
He at once entered the hall and stepped up into the apartment where shewas seated, looking pale and worn, with tear-reddened eyes.
She rose, and with a sweet sad smile, extended her hand to Lamia.
"No, Domitia," said he gently, "as your dear father gave me permission onthe wharf at Cenchraea, I will claim the same privilege now."
She held her cold, tear-stained cheek to him without a word, then returnedto and sank on her stool.
"I thank you, dear friend, and almost brother," she said. "You spoke noblyof my father, though not more nobly than he deserved. Here, my Lucius, isa present for you, I intrust it to you--his sword, which he used sogallantly, on which he fell, and still marked with his blood."