Neæra. A Tale of Ancient Rome. Graham John William

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      ‘Nay, noble Apicius, every one is liable to be overridden by his thoughts,’ said Sejanus.

      ‘True, and I will forthwith give you the clue to mine,’ was the reply.

      ‘Ha! we will, therefore, begin again,’ quoth Pansa, in thick tones, holding up his empty goblet for his slave to refill.

      They all laughed, and then bent their eyes on the face of Apicius with renewed interest.

      ‘Nothing, dear friends, but the most sorrowful thoughts could have led me to exhibit such conduct toward you,’ said their host. ‘It has been my greatest ambition – ever my pride and pleasure to see my friends happy around my table.’

      ‘Dear Apicius, you have ever succeeded, and not the least this day,’ said Martialis gently.

      A murmur of approval ran round the couches.

      ‘You do me honour,’ resumed Apicius; ‘you have been good friends and companions hitherto, and I have done, humbly, my best to return your love. Be patient, I will not detain you long; and especially as you will never again recline round this table at my request. I am grieved to say it,’ continued he, after allowing the expressions of startled surprise to pass, ‘but I am resolved to change my condition, and Rome will know me no more.’

      Ill-concealed joy lighted up the vulgar face of Zoilus, but the visages of Torquatus, Flaccus, and Pansa were blank and thunderstruck at this unlooked-for announcement.

      ‘Say not so, Apicius!’ quoth Martialis, turning his prematurely worn, but noble face toward his host, ‘you rend our hearts.’

      Apicius, with a fond look, laid his hand gently on the speaker’s shoulder, but did not speak.

      ‘This is rank treason that cannot pass,’ said Sejanus jestingly. ‘Rome cannot spare thee, noble Apicius – thou shalt not even leave thy house – I shall send a guard of my Pretorians, who shall block thee in.’

      A faint smile rested on the lips of Apicius at this conceit.

      ‘We shall see how that plan will act, Prefect,’ said he. ‘Send thy Pretorians – a whole cohort – only you must be quick.’

      Torquatus sat dumb and forgot his jibes; the remainder listened for what was to follow.

      ‘It is true, my friends, I am about to quit the pleasures, the bustle, the virtues and vices of our beloved city of the hills. I am eager for perfect serenity, far from the struggling crowd, and I go shortly to see it.’

      ‘Whither? We will seek you out – I, at least,’ interrupted the voice of Martialis next to him.

      ‘Thou shalt learn ere very long, my Caius. Which among you does not, at certain times, if not constantly, wish for the tranquillity of the rustic, whose music is the whisper of the groves, the rippling of the stream, and the notes of the birds? Eating simply, sleeping soundly, rising cheerfully. Contented with what the gods have given him – the summer sun, the pure air, the green pastures, sweet water and the vine-clad slope; a heart unvexed by ambitions, envyings, ingratitudes. When I see him wander, wonderingly, through the streets, I envy him his brown cheek, his clear skin, his cheerful simplicity, his vigorous body which cleaves the torrent of pallid citizens. He seems to breathe the odour of the quiet groves and dewy grass. I am sick at heart and weary, friends. I loathe the sight of my once loved city of the hills – the marble, the stone, the thronging people. Peace! Peace! That song of Horace haunts me. Hear it, although you know it well – it will help you to divine my spirit in a little degree.’ He then recited the beautiful song of Horace, the sixteenth of his second book, of which we offer the following translation, inadequate as it is: —

      This foreign rendering can give only a faint idea of the effect which Apicius produced upon his hearers, by the beauty of his elocution, in his native tongue; for it was given in a voice of singular, pathetic melancholy. The hot burning tears dropped silently from the down-turned face of Martialis. Then, for a brief moment, he raised his swimming eyes toward his friend. All that was purest and noblest in his nature struggled with those welling drops, from beneath the load of a careless, misguided life, and beautified his weary face. The voices of the others were raised in entreaties and arguments, and even Torquatus summoned a snarling joke. But Apicius was firm, and only shook his head.

      ‘Think not that I go heedlessly,’ said he; ‘we have passed many delightful hours together. Although I shall henceforth be absent, I would not have my memory altogether die amongst you. I have, therefore, to ask each of you to accept of a slight memorial which may, at various times, as I hope, recall something of Apicius and his days.’

      ‘But you tell us not where you go,’ murmured Martialis once more.

      ‘Patience, Caius – you shall know; it is within easy reach, on an easy road.’

      Martialis made a gesture of pleasure, СКАЧАТЬ