The Last Days of Pompeii

E >> Edward George Bulwer Lytton >> The Last Days of Pompeii


There was something in this sudden burst of human affection which struck
a kindred chord in the soul of the Greek. He felt, for the first time,
a sympathy greater than mere affliction between him and his companion.
He crept nearer towards Olinthus; for the Italians, fierce in some
points, were not unnecessarily cruel in others; they spared the separate
cell and the superfluous chain, and allowed the victims of the arena the
sad comfort of such freedom and such companionship as the prison would
afford.

'Yes,' continued the Christian, with holy fervor, 'the immortality of
the soul--the resurrection--the reunion of the dead--is the great
principle of our creed--the great truth a God suffered death itself to
attest and proclaim. No fabled Elysium--no poetic Orcus--but a pure and
radiant heritage of heaven itself, is the portion of the good.'

'Tell me, then, thy doctrines, and expound to me thy hopes,' said
Glaucus, earnestly.

Olinthus was not slow to obey that prayer; and there--as oftentimes in
the early ages of the Christian creed--it was in the darkness of the
dungeon, and over the approach of death, that the dawning Gospel shed
its soft and consecrating rays.



Chapter XVII

A CHANCE FOR GLAUCUS.

THE hours passed in lingering torture over the head of Nydia from the
time in which she had been replaced in her cell.

Sosia, as if afraid he should be again outwitted, had refrained from
visiting her until late in the morning of the following day, and then he
but thrust in the periodical basket of food and wine, and hastily
reclosed the door. That day rolled on, and Nydia felt herself
pent--barred--inexorably confined, when that day was the judgment-day of
Glaucus, and when her release would have saved him! Yet knowing, almost
impossible as seemed her escape, that the sole chance for the life of
Glaucus rested on her, this young girl, frail, passionate, and acutely
susceptible as she was--resolved not to give way to a despair that would
disable her from seizing whatever opportunity might occur. She kept her
senses whenever, beneath the whirl of intolerable thought, they reeled
and tottered; nay, she took food and wine that she might sustain her
strength--that she might be prepared!

She revolved scheme after scheme of escape, and was forced to dismiss
all. Yet Sosia was her only hope, the only instrument with which she
could tamper. He had been superstitious in the desire of ascertaining
whether he could eventually purchase his freedom. Blessed gods! might
he not be won by the bribe of freedom itself? was she not nearly rich
enough to purchase it? Her slender arms were covered with bracelets, the
presents of Ione; and on her neck she yet wore that very chain which, it
may be remembered, had occasioned her jealous quarrel with Glaucus, and
which she had afterwards promised vainly to wear for ever. She waited
burningly till Sosia should again appear: but as hour after hour passed,
and he came not, she grew impatient. Every nerve beat with fever; she
could endure the solitude no longer--she groaned, she shrieked
aloud--she beat herself against the door. Her cries echoed along the
hall, and Sosia, in peevish anger, hastened to see what was the matter,
and silence his prisoner if possible.

'Ho! ho! what is this?' said he, surlily. 'Young slave, if thou
screamest out thus, we must gag thee again. My shoulders will smart for
it, if thou art heard by my master.'

'Kind Sosia, chide me not--I cannot endure to be so long alone,'
answered Nydia; 'the solitude appals me. Sit with me, I pray, a little
while. Nay, fear not that I should attempt to escape; place thy seat
before the door. Keep thine eye on me--I will not stir from this spot.'

Sosia, who was a considerable gossip himself, was moved by this address.
He pitied one who had nobody to talk with--it was his case too; he
pitied--and resolved to relieve himself. He took the hint of Nydia,
placed a stool before the door, leant his back against it, and replied:

'I am sure I do not wish to be churlish; and so far as a little innocent
chat goes, I have no objection to indulge you. But mind, no tricks--no
more conjuring!'

'No, no; tell me, dear Sosia, what is the hour?'

'It is already evening--the goats are going home.'

'O gods! how went the trial'

'Both condemned.'

Nydia repressed the shriek. 'Well--well, I thought it would be so. When
do they suffer?'

'To-morrow, in the amphitheatre. If it were not for thee, little
wretch, I should be allowed to go with the rest and see it.'

Nydia leant back for some moments. Nature could endure no more--she had
fainted away. But Sosia did not perceive it, for it was the dusk of
eve, and he was full of his own privations. He went on lamenting the
loss of so delightful a show, and accusing the injustice of Arbaces for
singling him out from all his fellows to be converted into a gaoler; and
ere he had half finished, Nydia, with a deep sigh, recovered the sense
of life.

'Thou sighest, blind one, at my loss! Well, that is some comfort. So
long as you acknowledge how much you cost me, I will endeavor not to
grumble. It is hard to be ill-treated, and yet not pitied.'

'Sosia, how much dost thou require to make up the purchase of thy
freedom?'

'How much? Why, about two thousand sesterces.'

'The gods be praised! not more? Seest thou these bracelets and this
chain? They are well worth double that sum. I will give them thee
if...'

'Tempt me not: I cannot release thee. Arbaces is a severe and awful
master. Who knows but I might feed the fishes of the Sarnus Alas! all
the sesterces in the world would not buy me back into life. Better a
live dog than a dead lion.'

'Sosia, thy freedom! Think well! If thou wilt let me out only for one
little hour!--let me out at midnight--I will return ere to-morrow's
dawn; nay, thou canst go with me.'

'No,' said Sosia, sturdily, 'a slave once disobeyed Arbaces, and he was
never more heard of.'

'But the law gives a master no power over the life of a slave.'

'The law is very obliging, but more polite than efficient. I know that
Arbaces always gets the law on his side. Besides, if I am once dead,
what law can bring me to life again!'

Nydia wrung her hands. 'Is there no hope, then?' said she,
convulsively.

'None of escape till Arbaces gives the word.'

'Well, then, said Nydia, quickly, 'thou wilt not, at least, refuse to
take a letter for me: thy master cannot kill thee for that.'

'To whom?'

'The praetor.'

'To a magistrate? No--not I. I should be made a witness in court, for
what I know; and the way they cross-examine the slaves is by the
torture.'

'Pardon: I meant not the praetor--it was a word that escaped me
unawares: I meant quite another person--the gay Sallust.'

'Oh! and what want you with him?'

'Glaucus was my master; he purchased me from a cruel lord. He alone has
been kind to me. He is to die. I shall never live happily if I cannot,
in his hour of trial and doom, let him know that one heart is grateful
to him. Sallust is his friend; he will convey my message.'

'I am sure he will do no such thing. Glaucus will have enough to think
of between this and to-morrow without troubling his head about a blind
girl.'

'Man,' said Nydia, rising, 'wilt thou become free? Thou hast the offer
in thy power; to-morrow it will be too late. Never was freedom more
cheaply purchased. Thou canst easily and unmissed leave home: less than
half an hour will suffice for thine absence. And for such a trifle wilt
thou refuse liberty?'

Sosia was greatly moved. It was true that the request was remarkably
silly; but what was that to him? So much the better. He could lock the
door on Nydia, and, if Arbaces should learn his absence, the offence was
venial, and would merit but a reprimand. Yet, should Nydia's letter
contain something more than what she had said--should it speak of her
imprisonment, as he shrewdly conjectured it would do--what then! It
need never be known to Arbaces that he had carried the letter. At the
worst the bribe was enormous--the risk light--the temptation
irresistible. He hesitated no longer--he assented to the proposal.

'Give me the trinkets, and I will take the letter. Yet stay--thou art a
slave--thou hast no right to these ornaments--they are thy master's.'

'They were the gifts of Glaucus; he is my master. What chance hath he
to claim them? Who else will know they are in my possession?'

'Enough--I will bring thee the papyrus.'

'No, not papyrus--a tablet of wax and a stilus.'

Nydia, as the reader will have seen, was born of gentle parents. They
had done all to lighten her calamity, and her quick intellect seconded
their exertions. Despite her blindness, she had therefore acquired in
childhood, though imperfectly, the art to write with the sharp stilus
upon waxen tablets, in which her exquisite sense of touch came to her
aid. When the tablets were brought to her, she thus painfully traced
some words in Greek, the language of her childhood, and which almost
every Italian of the higher ranks was then supposed to know. She
carefully wound round the epistle the thread, and covered its knot with
wax; and ere she placed it in the hands of Sosia, she thus addressed
him:

'Sosia, I am blind and in prison. Thou mayst think to deceive me--thou
mayst pretend only to take the letter to Sallust--thou mayst not fulfill
thy charge: but here I solemnly dedicate thy head to vengeance, thy soul
to the infernal powers, if thou wrongest thy trust; and I call upon thee
to place thy right hand of faith in mine, and repeat after me these
words: "By the ground on which we stand--by the elements which contain
life and can curse life--by Orcus, the all-avenging--by the Olympian
Jupiter, the all-seeing--I swear that I will honestly discharge my
trust, and faithfully deliver into the hands of Sallust this letter!
And if I perjure myself in this oath, may the full curses of heaven and
hell be wreaked upon me!" Enough!--I trust thee--take thy reward. It is
already dark--depart at once.'

'Thou art a strange girl, and thou hast frightened me terribly; but it
is all very natural: and if Sallust is to be found, I give him this
letter as I have sworn. By my faith, I may have my little peccadilloes!
but perjury--no! I leave that to my betters.'

With this Sosia withdrew, carefully passing the heavy bolt athwart
Nydia's door--carefully locking its wards: and, hanging the key to his
girdle, he retired to his own den, enveloped himself from head to foot
in a huge disguising cloak, and slipped out by the back way undisturbed
and unseen.

The streets were thin and empty. He soon gained the house of Sallust.
The porter bade him leave his letter, and be gone; for Sallust was so
grieved at the condemnation of Glaucus, that he could not on any account
be disturbed.

'Nevertheless, I have sworn to give this letter into his own hands--do
so I must!' And Sosia, well knowing by experience that Cerberus loves a
sop, thrust some half a dozen sesterces into the hand of the porter.

'Well, well,' said the latter, relenting, 'you may enter if you will;
but, to tell you the truth, Sallust is drinking himself out of his
grief. It is his way when anything disturbs him. He orders a capital
supper, the best wine, and does not give over till everything is out of
his head--but the liquor.'

'An excellent plan--excellent! Ah, what it is to be rich! If I were
Sallust, I would have some grief or another every day. But just say a
kind word for me with the atriensis--I see him coming.'

Sallust was too sad to receive company; he was too sad, also, to drink
alone; so, as was his wont, he admitted his favorite freedman to his
entertainment, and a stranger banquet never was held. For ever and
anon, the kind-hearted epicure sighed, whimpered, wept outright, and
then turned with double zest to some new dish or his refilled goblet.

'My good fellow,' said he to his companion, it was a most awful
judgment--heigho!--it is not bad that kid, eh? Poor, dear
Glaucus!--what a jaw the lion has too! Ah, ah, ah!'

And Sallust sobbed loudly--the fit was stopped by a counteraction of
hiccups.

'Take a cup of wine,' said the freedman.

'A thought too cold: but then how cold Glaucus must be! Shut up the
house to-morrow--not a slave shall stir forth--none of my people shall
honour that cursed arena--No, no!'

'Taste the Falernian--your grief distracts you. By the gods it does--a
piece of that cheesecake.'

It was at this auspicious moment that Sosia was admitted to the presence
of the disconsolate carouser.

'Ho--what art thou?'

'Merely a messenger to Sallust. I give him this billet from a young
female. There is no answer that I know of. May I withdraw?'

Thus said the discreet Sosia, keeping his face muffled in his cloak, and
speaking with a feigned voice, so that he might not hereafter be
recognized.

'By the gods--a pimp! Unfeeling wretch!--do you not see my sorrows?
Go! and the curses of Pandarus with you!'

Sosia lost not a moment in retiring.

'Will you read the letter, Sallust?' 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, Sallust'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 Sallust! 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 goddess 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 noble
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 space 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 principal 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 noble 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 anticipating the morrow.

'Well!' said Lydon, turning away, 'I thank the gods 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 class)--'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 bloody 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, superstitiously, 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.