In the days of the Cæsars the country surrounding Rome vied in splendour and luxury with the capital itself. Throughout the whole region appeared the villas of Roman patricians, abodes of aristocratic comfort, where every artist, from the sculptor to the—cook, had done his utmost to render them attractive and beautiful.
These noble patricians, many of whom had incomes of eight or nine millions, often found themselves in the unpleasant position of being obliged to avoid Rome. Weariness, wounded vanity, insurrections of the people and the prætorians, but especially distrust of the Cæsar, compelled them to turn their backs upon the imperial city and retire to their country estates.
Thus, for several years, Mesembrius Vio, the oldest Senator—who since the death of Probus had not set foot in Rome nor given the Senate a glimpse of him—had resided on his estate at the mouth of the Tiber. True, he said it was on account of the gout and the cataracts from which his feet and his eyes suffered; and his visitors always found him sitting in his curule chair, with his ivory crutch in his hand and a broad green shade over his eyes.
The old man had two daughters. One, Glyceria, had married when very young, thanks to the imperial favour, a great lord who had become a libertine; soon after the libertine lost his head, and his property, as well as the imperial favour, went to the beautiful widow, who in a short time had the reputation of being the Aspasia of the Roman capital. Of course, Mesembrius was not only blind, but deaf, when Glyceria was mentioned in his presence; he himself never permitted her name to cross his lips. His second daughter was Sophronia, who was always by the old man's side at his country estate. A beautiful and virtuous maiden, she seemed to unite the charms of three Greek goddesses: the graceful form of Venus, the noble beauty of Juno's countenance, and the purity of Psyche.
Yet Sophronia owed no special gratitude to heathen goddesses; on the seashore nearby lived the wise Eusebius, the descendant of the apostle, and the beautiful girl had long attended the secret meetings where the holy man announced to the followers of Christ the doctrine of the one God who dwells in the soul.
Old Mesembrius knew that his favourite daughter was secretly a proselyte of the new faith, and he did not oppose it; nay, he did not even let his daughter perceive that he had any idea of it.
Young sons of patrician families often came from Rome, lured by the fame of the maiden's beauty, and all cherishing the hope of obtaining her hand and with it her millions. Mesembrius received them very kindly, arranged great banquets in their honour, and brought out wine a century old. The youths were soon intoxicated by the liquid fire, and after the last libation each one showed himself in his true colours and poured forth the most secret thoughts in his heart.
Old Mesembrius listened and reflected. One unmasked himself as a profligate; another was free from such tastes, but developed great talent for being slave and despot in the same person; and even if an omnibus numeris salutus was found, he showed, when the last subject—his opinion of Christianity—was introduced, like all the rest, that it was his conviction that the Christian religion was nothing more than a sect which denied the gods and, by withdrawing from the popular pleasures, games, and combats in the arena, embittered every joy by their obdurate melancholy and in their stead celebrated horrible rites in gloomy caverns, compelled their followers to pierce with their knives the heart of an infant rolled in flour, and to drink its blood; till the gods, in their wrath, visited the earth with floods, pestilences, earthquakes, and barbarians, and that consequently there could not be enough of these people boiled in oil, burned in pitch, torn by wild beasts, and buried alive to avert from the land the severe punishments sent by the wrathful gods.
Mesembrius had heard enough, and gave his daughter to none of these youths. He honoured the martyrs, but did not wish to find Sophronia's name among them.
Not one of the rejected suitors saw her face.
One day a sun-burned youth entered Mesembrius's dwelling. The old man, who sat in the trichinum of his summer-house, saw him, and, in spite of the cataracts on his eyes, shouted:
"Are you coming to see me, Manlius Sinister? Come, come, here I am."
The old man could still see when he chose.
The youth hastened up to him, embraced him, and pressed his hand.
"How manly you have grown!" said Mesembrius, smiling; and, as if his eyes were not enough, he felt with his hands the youth's face, arms, and shoulders. "You have become a man indeed since you marched away with Probus. So you've come to ask me for my daughter's hand?"
Manlius seemed disconcerted by this straightforward question.
"I am not so selfish, Mesembrius. Our ancient friendship brought me to your house."
"I know, I know. We are aware of the kind of friendship which exists between an old man and a young one, especially when the old man has a beautiful daughter. For my daughter is very beautiful, Manlius, very beautiful! If you could see her! Don't say that you saw her four years ago—what was that? You were then a child, and so was she; what did you know about it? But now! O Manlius! it would be a great mistake of yours if you did not fall in love with her."
"What use would it be, old friend? You have refused so many suitors who were better, richer, and more powerful than I that I do not even venture to hope."
"Why, Manlius? Cannot you, too, gain power and wealth? Is not your uncle, worthy Quaterquartus, the most famous augur in Rome, whose prophecies always prove true, who holds in his hands the future of the Cæsar and the state?"
"That is all true."
"Then you see you may yet become a great man. You need only seek the favour of Carinus a little, and win your uncle's good will. Surely it is easy?"
"At least it is not difficult."
"See! See! Who knows how far you may go? What will it cost Carinus to have a rich old Senator drowned, and give you his palaces and treasures? Then you, too, will own mansions and slaves, will bathe in rose-water and eat peacock's tongues. What bars your way? You can gain all these things, by cringing. Cringing, I say."
Manlius let the old man talk on.
"But stay with me as long as you feel inclined, and be of good cheer."
In the evening a magnificent banquet was served in honour of Manlius; everything that could please the palate, eye, and heart appeared.
The young man's face glowed with the fire of old Falernian wine, and he often struck the table with his clenched fist, entirely forgetting the respect due to his host.
Mesembrius saw that the soul of his guest was beginning to open and, propping his cheek upon his hand, he commenced the examination.
"Well, Manlius, how do you like the Falernian? Am I not right in saying that Italy is the bosom of the earth, for here are the breasts—namely, the mountains which produce this wine?"
"Yet I have quaffed a more inspiring drink in my life-time."
"A more inspiring drink, Manlius? At whose table?"
"From the Euphrates."
"What do you mean?"
"It was after the battle of Ctesiphon. We had fought all day long, my arms were dripping with blood and my brow with sweat. In the evening the Persian army was scattered, and on that one day the Euphrates overflowed its banks."
"And you drank from it?"
"Yes. That water has an intoxicating effect."
"Fame intoxicated you, Manlius. It was in that water."
"I don't know what was in it; for when I raised my helmet, which I had filled with it, to my lips, I did not set it down until the last drop was drained."
"And then other good things awaited you? You could indulge yourselves to your heart's content in conquered Ctesiphon. I can imagine how well you fared with the beautiful dark-eyed women whose husbands were obliged to abandon them, and the palaces and storehouses of which you took possession. Every soldier was swimming in milk and honey."
"Well, we didn't do much of that sort of swimming, for we marched farther that very night; and as for the dark-eyed wives, all the leaders had issued strict orders that the captured women should not be insulted by the soldiers."
"Well, well, such orders are not usually taken too strictly. We know that."
"By Hercules! Then you know very little about it!" exclaimed Manlius furiously. "We took it so strictly that I had one of the soldiers in my legion, who abducted a maiden, bound by the feet to two trees which had been bent down and tore him asunder when they sprang back again."
"Well, you won't tear me asunder on that account," laughed old Mesembrius, delighted with the noble indignation displayed by his guest. He beckoned as he spoke to a Numidian slave who stood near, holding a richly engraved silver basin: "Come, Ramon, fill my guest's goblet."
"No," cried Manlius; "I can fill it myself. I need not be served like Carinus, who is too indolent to hold his goblet when he drinks, and is afraid of wearying himself if he lifts a fig from the dish to his lips with his own hands."
"Ho! ho! Manlius Sinister! You are slandering the Cæsar!"
"Æcastor! It is no slander. Is it not well known that his feet never touch the earth, and that, even in his bathroom, he uses a wheel-chair? To-day he had a ring on his finger and, complaining that he could not endure the burden of its weight, ordered it to be drawn off. Recently he had a notorious forger of documents, who understands how to imitate other people's writing marvellously well, released from prison, and appointed him his private secretary, to be spared the trouble of inscribing his signature with his own hand. Now this cheat provides every document with the Cæsar's name."
"O Manlius! You are saying a great deal about Carinus, who was once your schoolmate."
"I have no inclination to boast of that. True, I often shared my bread with him when he had none, and exchanged his tattered pallium for mine, but I feel no desire that he should ever recognise me, since I might easily fare like the rest of his schoolmates who appeared before him to remind him of former days, and whom Carinus unceremoniously thrust into the 'Tower of Forgetfulness,' to rid himself of the uncomfortable feelings of the past."
"Ah! Manlius, you are talking like Seneca. You will never rise high in Carinus's favour in this way."
"When was that necessary for a free Roman?" cried the knight, raising his head proudly. "I have a sword and a brave heart; if these will not lead me to fame, I want no power which can be obtained by crawling in the dust. It suits only dogs and libertines."
Mesembrius laughed and rubbed his hands in delight; then he urged the youth to drink more, and the wine began to restore to the face trained amid the corruption of Roman society to dissimulation, its real character.
"Go on with your story, my good Manlius; we stopped at the battle of Ctesiphon. That is the enemy stopped there, while you went on as far as you could."
"With all due respect to your grey beard, Senator, never say to me: as far as you could. For we might have gone to the Juxartes—there were none who could have opposed us. The flying Persians vainly destroyed everything before us: not even deserts and wildernesses can offer obstacles to the Roman legions; every soldier carried provisions enough for ten days on his back. I ought to add that, during the whole dreary campaign, we slept on the frozen ground in the severest winter weather. The Persians convinced themselves that they could not check our advance, and, when we reached a city whose barbarous name the gods cannot expect a Roman tongue to utter, we encamped there. As twilight closed in, the envoys of the Persian monarch—magnificently dressed men with braided hair, rouged, with black eyebrows and fingers laden with rings—came and asked to be led before the Augustus: I mean Carus, don't confound him with Carinus. They were conducted into the presence of a man who was sitting on the bare ground, with a yellow leather cap on his head, eating rancid bacon and raw beans. He had thrown over his shoulders a coarse, shabby purple mantle, which distinguished him from the others."
"That was Carus; I recognise him," muttered the old Senator.