Last Days of Pompeii Part 30

Sosia lost not a moment in retiring.

'Will you read the letter, Sall.u.s.t?' said the freedman.

'Letter!-which letter?' said the epicure, reeling, for he began to see double. 'A curse on these wenches, say I! Am I a man to think of-(hiccup)-pleasure, when-when-my friend is going to be eat up?'

'Eat another tartlet.'

'No, no! My grief chokes me!'

'Take him to bed said the freedman; and, Sall.u.s.t's head now declining fairly on his breast, they bore him off to his cubiculum, still muttering lamentations for Glaucus, and imprecations on the unfeeling overtures of ladies of pleasure.

Meanwhile Sosia strode indignantly homeward. 'Pimp, indeed!' quoth he to himself. 'Pimp! a scurvy-tongued fellow that Sall.u.s.t! Had I been called knave, or thief. I could have forgiven it; but pimp! Faugh! There is something in the word which the toughest stomach in the world would rise against. A knave is a knave for his own pleasure, and a thief a thief for his own profit; and there is something honorable and philosophical in being a rascal for one's own sake: that is doing things upon principle-upon a grand scale. But a pimp is a thing that defiles itself for another-a pipkin that is put on the fire for another man's pottage! a napkin, that every guest wipes his hands upon! and the scullion says, "by your leave" too. A pimp! I would rather he had called me parricide! But the man was drunk, and did not know what he said; and, besides, I disguised myself. Had he seen it had been Sosia who addressed him, it would have been "honest Sosia!" and, "worthy man!" I warrant. Nevertheless, the trinkets have been won easily-that's some comfort! and, O G.o.ddess Feronia! I shall be a freedman soon! and then I should like to see who'll call me pimp!-unless, indeed, he pay me pretty handsomely for it!'

While Sosia was soliloquising in this high-minded and generous vein, his path lay along a narrow lane that led towards the amphitheatre and its adjacent palaces. Suddenly, as he turned a sharp corner he found himself in the midst of a considerable crowd. Men, women, and children, all were hurrying or laughing, talking, gesticulating; and, ere he was aware of it, the worthy Sosia was borne away with the noisy stream.

'What now?' he asked of his nearest neighbor, a young artificer; 'what now? Where are all these good folks thronging?' Does any rich patron give away alms or viands to-night?'

'Not so, man-better still,' replied the artificer; 'the n.o.ble Pansa-the people's friend-has granted the public leave to see the beasts in their vivaria. By Hercules! they will not be seen so safely by some persons to-morrow.'

'Tis a pretty sight,' said the slave, yielding to the throng that impelled him onward; 'and since I may not go to the sports to-morrow, I may as well take a peep at the beasts to-night.'

'You will do well,' returned his new acquaintance, 'a lion and a tiger are not to be seen at Pompeii every day.'

The crowd had now entered a broken and wide s.p.a.ce of ground, on which, as it was only lighted scantily and from a distance, the press became dangerous to those whose limbs and shoulders were not fitted for a mob. Nevertheless, the women especially-many of them with children in their arms, or even at the breast-were the most resolute in forcing their way; and their shrill exclamations of complaint or objurgation were heard loud above the more jovial and masculine voices. Yet, amidst them was a young and girlish voice, that appeared to come from one too happy in her excitement to be alive to the inconvenience of the crowd.

'Aha!' cried the young woman, to some of her companions, 'I always told you so; I always said we should have a man for the lion; and now we have one for the tiger too! I wish tomorrow were come!'

Ho, ho! for the merry, merry show, With a forest of faces in every row!

Lo! the swordsmen, bold as the son of Alcmaena, Sweep, side by side, o'er the hushed arena.

Talk while you may, you will hold your breath When they meet in the grasp of the glowing death!

Tramp! tramp! how gaily they go!

Ho! ho! for the merry, merry show!

'A jolly girl!' said Sosia.

'Yes,' replied the young artificer, a curly-headed, handsome youth. 'Yes,' replied he, enviously; 'the women love a gladiator. If I had been a slave, I would have soon found my schoolmaster in the lanista!'

'Would you, indeed?' said Sosia, with a sneer. 'People's notions differ!'

The crowd had now arrived at the place of destination; but as the cell in which the wild beasts were confined was extremely small and narrow, tenfold more vehement than it hitherto had been was the rush of the aspirants to obtain admittance. Two of the officers of the amphitheatre, placed at the entrance, very wisely mitigated the evil by dispensing to the foremost only a limited number of tickets at a time, and admitting no new visitors till their predecessors had sated their curiosity. Sosia, who was a tolerably stout fellow and not troubled with any remarkable scruples of diffidence or good breeding, contrived to be among the first of the initiated.

Separated from his companion the artificer, Sosia found himself in a narrow cell of oppressive heat and atmosphere, and lighted by several rank and flaring torches.

The animals, usually kept in different vivaria, or dens, were now, for the greater entertainment of the visitors, placed in one, but equally indeed divided from each other by strong cages protected by iron bars.

There they were, the fell and grim wanderers of the desert, who have now become almost the princ.i.p.al agents of this story. The lion, who, as being the more gentle by nature than his fellow-beast, had been more incited to ferocity by hunger, stalked restlessly and fiercely to and fro his narrow confines: his eyes were lurid with rage and famine: and as, every now and then, he paused and glared around, the spectators fearfully pressed backward, and drew their breath more quickly. But the tiger lay quiet and extended at full length in his cage, and only by an occasional play of his tail, or a long impatient yawn, testified any emotion at his confinement, or at the crowd which honored him with their presence.

'I have seen no fiercer beast than yon lion even in the amphitheatre of Rome,' said a gigantic and sinewy fellow who stood at the right hand of Sosia.

'I feel humbled when I look at his limbs,' replied, at the left of Sosia, a slighter and younger figure, with his arms folded on his breast.

The slave looked first at one, and then at the other. 'Virtus in medio!-virtue is ever in the middle!' muttered he to himself; 'a goodly neighborhood for thee, Sosia-a gladiator on each side!'

'That is well said, Lydon,' returned the huger gladiator; 'I feel the same.'

'And to think,' observed Lydon, in a tone of deep feeling, to think that the n.o.ble Greek, he whom we saw but a day or two since before us, so full of youth, and health, and joyousness, is to feast yon monster!'

'Why not?' growled Niger, savagely: 'many an honest gladiator has been compelled to a like combat by the emperor-why not a wealthy murderer by the law?'

Lydon sighed, shrugged his shoulders, and remained silent. Meanwhile the common gazers listened with staring eyes and lips apart: the gladiators were objects of interest as well as the beasts-they were animals of the same species; so the crowd glanced from one to the other-the men and the brutes-whispering their comments and antic.i.p.ating the morrow.

'Well!' said Lydon, turning away, 'I thank the G.o.ds that it is not the lion or the tiger I am to contend with; even you, Niger, are a gentler combatant than they.'

'But equally dangerous,' said the gladiator, with a fierce laugh; and the bystanders, admiring his vast limbs and ferocious countenance, laughed too.

'That as it may be,' answered Lydon, carelessly, as he pressed through the throng and quitted the den.

'I may as well take advantage of his shoulders,' thought the prudent Sosia, hastening to follow him: 'the crowd always give way to a gladiator, so I will keep close behind, and come in for a share of his consequence.'

The son of Medon strode quickly through the mob, many of whom recognized his features and profession.

'That is young Lydon, a brave fellow: he fights to-morrow,' said one.

'Ah! I have a bet on him,' said another; 'see how firmly he walks!'

'Good luck to thee, Lydon!' said a third.

'Lydon, you have my wishes,' half whispered a fourth, smiling (a comely woman of the middle cla.s.s)-'and if you win, why, you may hear more of me.'

'A handsome man, by Venus!' cried a fifth, who was a girl scarce in her teens. 'Thank you,' returned Sosia, gravely taking the compliment to himself.

However strong the purer motives of Lydon, and certain though it be that he would never have entered so b.l.o.o.d.y a calling but from the hope of obtaining his father's freedom, he was not altogether unmoved by the notice he excited. He forgot that the voices now raised in commendation might, on the morrow, shout over his death-pangs. By nature fierce and reckless, as well as generous and warm-hearted, he was already imbued with the pride of a profession that he fancied he disdained, and affected by the influence of a companionship that in reality he loathed. He saw himself now a man of importance; his step grew yet lighter, and his mien more elate.

'Niger,' said he, turning suddenly, as he had now threaded the crowd; 'we have often quarrelled; we are not matched against each other, but one of us, at least, may reasonably expect to fall-give us thy hand.'

'Most readily,' said Sosia, extending his palm.

'Ha! what fool is this? Why, I thought Niger was at my heels!'

'I forgive the mistake,' replied Sosia, condescendingly: 'don't mention it; the error was easy-I and Niger are somewhat of the same build.'

'Ha! ha! that is excellent! Niger would have slit thy throat had he heard thee!'

'You gentlemen of the arena have a most disagreeable mode of talking,' said Sosia; 'let us change the conversation.'

'Vah! vah!' said Lydon, impatiently; 'I am in no humor to converse with thee!'

'Why, truly,' returned the slave, 'you must have serious thoughts enough to occupy your mind: to-morrow is, I think, your first essay in the arena. Well, I am sure you will die bravely!'

'May thy words fall on thine own head!' said Lydon, superst.i.tiously, for he by no means liked the blessing of Sosia. 'Die! No-I trust my hour is not yet come.'

'He who plays at dice with death must expect the dog's throw,' replied Sosia, maliciously. 'But you are a strong fellow, and I wish you all imaginable luck; and so, vale!'

With that the slave turned on his heel, and took his way homeward.

'I trust the rogue's words are not ominous,' said Lydon, musingly. 'In my zeal for my father's liberty, and my confidence in my own thews and sinews, I have not contemplated the possibility of death. My poor father! I am thy only son!-if I were to fall...'

As the thought crossed him, the gladiator strode on with a more rapid and restless pace, when suddenly, in an opposite street, he beheld the very object of his thoughts. Leaning on his stick, his form bent by care and age, his eyes downcast, and his steps trembling, the grey-haired Medon slowly approached towards the gladiator. Lydon paused a moment: he divined at once the cause that brought forth the old man at that late hour.

'Be sure, it is I whom he seeks,' thought he; 'he is horror struck at the condemnation of Olinthus-he more than ever esteems the arena criminal and hateful-he comes again to dissuade me from the contest. I must shun him-I cannot brook his prayers-his tears.'

These thoughts, so long to recite, flashed across the young man like lightning. He turned abruptly and fled swiftly in an opposite direction. He paused not till, almost spent and breathless, he found himself on the summit of a small acclivity which overlooked the most gay and splendid part of that miniature city; and as there he paused, and gazed along the tranquil streets glittering in the rays of the moon (which had just arisen, and brought partially and picturesquely into light the crowd around the amphitheatre at a distance, murmuring, and swaying to and fro), the influence of the scene affected him, rude and unimaginative though his nature. He sat himself down to rest upon the steps of a deserted portico, and felt the calm of the hour quiet and restore him. Opposite and near at hand, the lights gleamed from a palace in which the master now held his revels. The doors were open for coolness, and the gladiator beheld the numerous and festive group gathered round the tables in the atrium; while behind them, closing the long vista of the illumined rooms beyond, the spray of the distant fountain sparkled in the moonbeams. There, the garlands wreathed around the columns of the hall-there, gleamed still and frequent the marble statue-there, amidst peals of jocund laughter, rose the music and the lay.

EPICUREAN SONG

Away with your stories of Hades, Which the Flamen has forged to affright us- We laugh at your three Maiden Ladies, Your Fates-and your sullen Cocytus.

Poor Jove has a troublesome life, sir, Could we credit your tales of his portals- In shutting his ears on his wife, sir, And opening his eyes upon mortals.

Oh, blest be the bright Epicurus!

Who taught us to laugh at such fables; On Hades they wanted to moor us, And his hand cut the terrible cables.

If, then, there's a Jove or a Juno, They vex not their heads about us, man; Besides, if they did, I and you know 'Tis the life of a G.o.d to live thus, man!

What! think you the G.o.ds place their bliss-eh?- In playing the spy on a sinner?

In counting the girls that we kiss, eh?

Or the cups that we empty at dinner?

Content with the soft lips that love us, This music, this wine, and this mirth, boys, We care not for G.o.ds up above us- We know there's no G.o.d for this earth, boys!

While Lydon's piety (which accommodating as it might be, was in no slight degree disturbed by these verses, which embodied the fashionable philosophy of the day) slowly recovered itself from the shock it had received, a small party of men, in plain garments and of the middle cla.s.s, pa.s.sed by his resting-place. They were in earnest conversation, and did not seem to notice or heed the gladiator as they moved on.

'O horror on horrors!' said one; 'Olinthus is s.n.a.t.c.hed from us! our right arm is lopped away! When will Christ descend to protect his own?'

'Can human atrocity go farther said another: 'to sentence an innocent man to the same arena as a murderer! But let us not despair; the thunder of Sinai may yet be heard, and the Lord preserve his saint. "The fool hath said in his heart, There is no G.o.d."'

At that moment out broke again, from the illumined palace, the burden of the reveller's song:- We care not for G.o.ds up above us- We know there's no G.o.d for this earth, boys!

Ere the words died away, the Nazarenes, moved by sudden indignation, caught up the echo, and, in the words of one of their favorite hymns, shouted aloud:- THE WARNING HYMN OF THE NAZARENES

Around-about-for ever near thee, G.o.d-OUR G.o.d-shall mark and hear thee!

On his car of storm He sweeps!

Bow, ye heavens, and shrink, ye deeps!

Woe to the proud ones who defy Him!- Woe to the dreamers who deny Him!

Woe to the wicked, woe!

The proud stars shall fail- The sun shall grow pale- The heavens shrivel up like a scroll- h.e.l.l's ocean shall bare Its depths of despair, Each wave an eternal soul!

For the only thing, then, That shall not live again Is the corpse of the giant TIME.

Hark, the trumpet of thunder!

Lo, earth rent asunder!

And, forth, on His Angel-throne, He comes through the gloom, The Judge of the Tomb, To summon and save His own!

Oh, joy to Care, and woe to Crime, He comes to save His own!

Woe to the proud ones who defy Him!

Woe to the dreamers who deny Him!

Woe to the wicked, woe!

A sudden silence from the startled hall of revel succeeded these ominous words: the Christians swept on, and were soon hidden from the sight of the gladiator. Awed, he scarce knew why, by the mystic denunciations of the Christians, Lydon, after a short pause, now rose to pursue his way homeward.

Before him, how serenely slept the starlight on that lovely city! how breathlessly its pillared streets reposed in their security!-how softly rippled the dark-green waves beyond!-how cloudless spread, aloft and blue, the dreaming Campanian skies! Yet this was the last night for the gay Pompeii! the colony of the h.o.a.r Chaldean! the fabled city of Hercules! the delight of the voluptuous Roman! Age after age had rolled, indestructive, unheeded, over its head; and now the last ray quivered on the dial-plate of its doom! The gladiator heard some light steps behind-a group of females were wending homeward from their visit to the amphitheatre. As he turned, his eye was arrested by a strange and sudden apparition. From the summit of Vesuvius, darkly visible at the distance, there shot a pale, meteoric, livid light-it trembled an instant and was gone. And at the same moment that his eye caught it, the voice of one of the youngest of the women broke out hilariously and shrill:- TRAMP! TRAMP! HOW GAILY THEY GO!

HO, HO! FOR THE MORROW'S MERRY SHOW!