  The anarchy which had lasted from the 11th June, 68, when Nero perished, came to an end on the 20th December, in the ensuing year. In that terrible year of 69, three emperors had died violent deaths, and Rome had been in a condition of disorder on each occasion, and intermittent violence had lasted all the time. Men now drew a long breath, they were disposed to blot out the memory of those eighteen months of misery and national humiliation, as though it had not been, and to reckon the strong Vespasian as prince next after Nero. Indeed, on the morrow of the death of Vitellius, when the Senate assembled and decreed the honors of the former princes, they recited those of the first CÆsars, but ignored the three last who had perished within a twelvemonth, as though they had never been, and were to be forgotten as an evil dream. That same day also, Domitian received the title of CÆsar, and was made Prince of the Youths, and PrÆfect of Rome in the place of his uncle, who had been murdered. That day, also, Mucianus arrived with the Syrian legions, and with plenitude of authority from Vespasian to act in his name. To Duilia’s vast delight Domitian did not forget his [pg 162] When he came, she made a point of summoning her daughter, and requiring her to be present during the interview. But she could not make her speak or compel her to graciousness of manner towards the visitor. The young prince’s eyes watched the girl with question in them, but he addressed all his conversation to the mother. Longa Duilia did her utmost to disguise her child’s incivility, attributed it to shyness, and used all her blandishments to make a visit to her house agreeable to Domitian. At length, the irksomeness caused by Domitia’s irresponsive manner seemed to satisfy the mother that she did more harm than good in enforcing her attendance, and she ceased to require the girl to appear. Some months passed, and Domitia had not given a thought to Glyceria, and her offer to revisit the sick woman, when, all at once, in a fit of weariness with all things that surrounded her, and a sense of incapacity to find enjoyment anywhere, she started from her languor to bid Eboracus go forth, buy honey-cakes and toys, and accompany her on a visit to the Suburra. As she was on her way, Domitian came by with his lictors and other attendants. Since his elevation from poverty and insignificance to ease and importance, he had acquired a swagger that made his manner more offensive than before in his phase of cubbishness. He at once addressed her, for though veiled he recognized her. [pg 163]“May I attend you? I have at the moment nothing of importance to occupy me.” “I am bound for the Suburra.” “For the Suburra! What can take you into the slums of Rome?” “I am going to see the wife of Paris, the tragic actor.” “Oh! the wife of the actor, Paris,” with a sneer. “I said so—the wife of Paris the actor,” she withdrew her veil and looked him straight in the eyes. He winced. “And pray—is she a visiting acquaintance of the family?” “She is our freedwoman. Paris was freed by my father likewise. Are you content? I may add that she has met with an accident and is crippled and confined to her bed.” “Oh!” with a vulgar laugh, “and you are infected with the Christian malady, and go among the sick and starving.” “I know naught of this Christian malady. What is it?” “We have had the contagion touch us. There is my cousin Clemens, and his wife Domitilla, both taken badly with it. He is a poor, mean-spirited fool. He has been offered excellent situations, with money to be made in them, in bushels, but he refuses—will not swear by the genius of my father, will not offer sacrifice to the Gods. Such thin gruel minds I cannot away with. Were I Augustus, such as would not serve the Commonwealth should be sent to kick their heels in a desert island. These Christians are the enemies of the human race.” “What, because they visit the sick and relieve the poor?” [pg 164]“The sick are smitten by the Gods and should be left to die. The poor are encumbrances and should be left to rot away. But a man of rank and of family—” “Flavius Clemens! of what family?” Domitian bit his lip. The Flavians were of no ancestry; money-lenders, tax-collectors, jobbers in various ways, with no connections save through the mother of Vespasian, and that middle-class only. “I say that a man who will not serve his country should be pitched out of it.” “About that I have no opinion.” “Clemens was cast to the lions by Nero, but some witchcraft charmed them, and they would not touch him.” Domitia said nothing to this. She was desirous of being rid of her self-imposed escort. “You must wish me success,” said the young prince. “I am off to Germany. There has been revolt there, and I go to subdue it.” “By all means carry with you a pair of shears.” “What mean you?” “To obtain a crop of golden hair from the German women, wherewith to grace your triumph.” Domitian knitted his brows. “You have a sharp tongue.” “I need one. It is a woman’s sole defence.” “Come, if a cousin, as your mother asserts,—though by the Gods! I know not where the kinship comes in,—wish me well. Such words as yours are of ill-omen.” “I wish confusion and destruction to the worst enemies of Rome,” answered Domitia. “That suffices. I will offer the spoils to you.” “Thank you, I do not yet wear wigs.” [pg 165]He turned away with an expression of irritation. “You are either silent, or stick pins into me,” he muttered. Domitia continued her course, but as she entered the “Island” in which was the home of Paris, she observed the young CÆsar still in the street, at a corner watching her. Much annoyed, and with her temper ruffled by this meeting, she ascended the steps to the first story and at once turned towards the apartments of Paris and Glyceria, but had to thread her way among poor people, women weaving and spinning, and children romping and running races. She was welcomed with pleasure, Glyceria would have raised herself, had she been able; as it was, she could show her respect only by a salutation with the hand, and her pleasure by a smile and a word. The chamber was fragrant with violets. Domitia looked round and saw a small marble table on which stood a statuette of a shepherd with panpipes, and a lamb across his shoulders. Violets in a basin stood before the figure. “Ah! Hermes,” said Domitia, and plucking a little bunch of the purple flowers from her bosom she laid it in the bowl with the rest. “Nay, dear Lady, not Hermes,” said Glyceria, “though indeed it was sculptured to represent him—but to me that figure has another meaning. And I hold your offering of the violets as made to Him who to me is the Good Shepherd.”4 [pg 166]“Whom mean you? Atys?” “Not Atys.” Domitia was not particularly interested in the matter. She presumed that some foreign cult was followed by Glyceria, and foreign cults at this time swarmed in Rome. “Do you believe me, Glyceria,” said Domitia, “as I came hither, the CÆsar Domitian accompanied me, and said that I must be a Christian to care for the sick and suffering. What are these Christians?” “I am one,” answered the paralyzed woman. “What! and Paris?” “Nay, he hovers between two opinions. His business holds him and he will not give that up, he thinks that, were he to do so, he and I might starve. But with the mind I think he is one.” “And what are these Christians?” “Those who believe in Christ.” “And he?—is that his image?” pointing to the Good Shepherd. “Oh Lady! it is only so much His image as the words Good Shepherd written in characters are such, they call up a notion and so does that figure. But in our worship we have no images, no sacrifices.” “What is Christianity?” “That is long to answer, but I may say in two words what it is to me.” “Say on.” “The Daylight of the soul.” “How mean you?” “I once was in darkness. I knew not why I was set in the world, whither I was going, what I ought to worship, what were my duties, where was right and [pg 167] “So every votary of every new religion says. Where is your guarantee that you are not in delusion?” “Madam, when the sun rises and there is day, you do not suppose the light, the splendor, the confidence inspired by it is a delusion. You know that you see, and see that you may walk, and act with purpose and direction. The soul has eyes as well as the body. These eyes behold the light and cannot doubt it, by internal conscience that distinguishes between the truth and falsehood. By that internal conscience I am assured that the light is as real as that seen by eyes of flesh.” “I cannot understand you,” said Domitia. “Now for other matters—I have made Eboracus bring you some dainties for yourself and presents for the children who are so kind to you. Where is your husband?” “He is rehearsing. Better times have arrived, and he is now occupied.” “And you see less of him.” “Yes—but we must live. When away from me, I know that in heart he is with me.” “You are sure of that?” “Yes.” “What, by the conscience that establishes between truth and falsehood?” “Nay—by trust. We must trust some one and some thing. We trust God, we trust His Revelation, we trust in the goodness there is in mankind.” “There is evil rather than good.” “There is good—but that is oft astray because of the darkness, and does not know its course.” Domitia did not remain long in the Insula. She [pg 168] When she arrived at the palace, she heard that her mother had been inquiring after her, and she at once went to her apartments. Duilia asked where she had been, but did not listen for an answer, or pay attention to what was said, when the reply came. “What is this I hear?” said Duilia, in a tone of irritation. “Lucilla tells me you have been chatting with Domitian, and in the street too——” “I had no wish to speak with him. He came after me.” “Oh! he went after you, did he? And pray what had he to say?” “He is going to Germany to conclude a campaign already fought out and come back and triumph for another man’s victories.” “You did not say so to him?” “Not in so many words.” “My dear, it is true. He is going, and whether he be successful or not, will return wearing the title Germanicus. I shall have a little supper.” “For whom?” “For whom, do you ask? For him to be sure, to wish him good success on the expedition.” “You will allow me not to be present.” “As you will, perverse girl. My dear,” in a confidential tone, “if kittens can’t catch rats, cats can.” |
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