A friend of Caesar : a tale of the fall of the Roman Republic, time, 50-47 B.C

Front matter

6bc ITOBl^

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

In Canada

Preface

If tMs book serves to sbow tbat Classical Life presented many phases akin to our own, it will not have been written in vain.

After the book was planned and in part written, it was discovered that Archdeacon Farrar had in his story of “ Dark¬ ness and Dawn ” a scene, “ Onesimus and the Vestal,” which corresponds very closely to the scene, “Agias and the Vestal,” in this book ; but the latter incident was too characteristically Roman not to risk repetition. If it is asked why such a book as this is desirable after those noble fictions, “Darkness and Dawn ” and “ Quo Vadis,” the reply must be that these books necessarily take and interpret the Christian point of view. And they do well ; but the Pagan point of view still needs its interpretation, at least as a help to an easy apprehension of the life and literature of the great age of the Fall of the Roman Republic. This is the aim of “ A Friend of Caesar.” The Age of Caesar prepared the way for the Age of Nero, when Christianity could find a world in a state of such culture, unity, and social stability that it could win an adequate and abiding triumph.

Great care has been taken to keep to strict historical proba¬ bility; but in one scene, the “Expulsion of the Tribunes,” there is such a confusion of accounts in the authorities them¬ selves that I have taken some slight liberties.

Harvaed Universitt, January 16, 1900.

w. a D.

CONTENTS oiurtBV

L

Fbjeneste .

aaes n.

• •

.

m.

The Privilege of a Vestal .

•

.

IVo

Lucius Ahenobarbus airs his Grievance

o

V.

.

VI.

vn.

Agias’s Adventure . .

• •

.

vm.

• •

.

IX.

How Gabinius met with a Rebuff •

•

X.

Mamercus guards the Door .

.

XI.

• •

.

xn.

Pratinas meets Ill-fortune .

• •

.

xm.

.

XIV.

The Xew Consuls

.

XV.

XVI.

The Rubicon . » . o xvn.

The Profitable Career of Gabinius «

.

xvm.

How Fompeius stamped with his

ix

Feet .

•

X

Contents

CHAPTER PAQB

XIX. The Hospitality of Demetrius . . , . 364

XX. Cleopatra . . . 387

Chapter I 1 Pb^nestb

It was the Roman month of September, seven hundred and four years after Romulus — so tradition ran — founded the little village by the Tiber which was to become “ Mother of Nations,” “ Centre of the World,” ‘^Imperial Rome.” To state the time according to modern standards it was July, fifty years before the beginning of the Christian Era. The fierce Italian sun was pouring down over the tilled fields and stretches of woodland and grazing country that made up the landscape, and the atmosphere was almost aglow with the heat. The dust lay thick on the pavement of the highway, and rose in dense, stifling clouds, as a mule, laden with farm produce and driven by a burly countryman, trudged reluctantly along.

Yet, though the scene suggested the heat of midsummer, it was far from being unrefreshing, especially to the eyes of one newly come. For this spot was near “ cool Prseneste/’ one of the favourite resorts of Latium to the wealthy, invalid, or indolent of Rome, who shunned the excessive heat of the capi¬ tal. And they were wise in their choice ; for Prseneste, with its citadel, which rose twelve hundred feet over the adjoining country, commanded in its ample sweep both the views and the

B 1

A FTIIEND OF C^SAR breezes of tlie whole wide-spreading Campagna. Here, cluster, ing round the hill on which stood the far-famed “ Temple of Fortune,” lay the old Latin town of the Praenestians ; a little farther westward was the settlement founded some thirty odd years before by Sulla as a colony. Farther out, and stretching off into the open country, lay the farmhouses and villas, gardens and orchards, where splendid nuts and roses, and also wine, grew in abundant measure.

A little stream ran close to the highway, and here an irrigat¬ ing machine^ was raising water for the fields. Two men stood on the treadmill beside the large-bucketed wheel, and as they continued their endless walk the water dashed up into the trough and went splashing down the ditches into the thirsty gardens. The workers were tall, bronze-skinned Libyans, who were stripped to the waist, showing their splendid chests and rippling muscles. Beside the trough had just come two women, by their coarse and unpretentious dress evidently slaves, bear¬ ing large earthen water-pots which they were about to fill. One of the women was old, and bore on her face all the marks which a life of hard manual toil usually leaves behind it ; the other young, with a clear, smooth complexion and a rather delicate Greek profile. The Libyans stopped their monotonous trudge, evidently glad to have some excuse for a respite from their exertions.

“ Ah, ha ! Chloe,” cried one of them, how would you like it, with your pretty little feet, to be plodding at this mill all the day? Thank the Gods, the sun will set before a great while. The day has been hot as the lap of an image of Moloch I

1 Water columbarium.

2 The Phoenician god, also worshipped in North Africa, in whose idol was built a hre to consume human sacrifices.

PRiENESTE

*• Well, Hasdrubal,” said Chlo6, the younger woman, with a pert toss of her head, if my feet were as large as yours, and my skin as black and thick, I should not care to complain if 1 had to work a little now and then.”

“ Oh ! of course,” retorted Hasdrubal, a little nettled. “ Your ladyship is too refined, too handsome, to reflect that people with black skins as well as white may get heated and weary. Wait five and twenty years, till your cheeks are a bit withered, and see if Master Drusus doesn’t give you enough to make you tired from morning till night.”

“ You rude fellow,” cried ChloS, pouting with vexation, " I will not speak to you again. If Master T>rusus were here, I would complain of you to him. I have heard that he is not the kind of a master to let a poor maid of his be insulted.”

“ Oh, be still, you hussy ! ” said the elder woman, who felt that a life of labour had spoiled what might have been quite the equal of Chloe’s good looks. “ What do you know of Master Drusus ? He has been in Athens ever since you were bought. I’ll make Mamercus, the steward, believe you ought to be whipped.”

What tart answer Chloe might have had on the end of her tongue will never be known; for at this moment Mago, the other Libyan, glanced up the roa d, and cried : —

“Well, mistress, perhaps you will see our master very soon. He was due this afternoon or next day from Puteoli, and what is that great cloud of dust I see off there in the distance? Can’t you make out carriages and horsemen in the midst of it, Hasdrubal?”

Certainly there was a little cavalcade coming up the high¬ way. How it was a mere blotch moving in the sun and dust ; then clearer ; and then out of the cloud of light, flying sand came the clatter of hoofs on the pavement, the whir of

A PKIEND OF CiESAB wheels, and ahead of the rest of the party two dark Nnmidiai: outriders in bright red mantles appeared, pricking along theii white African steeds. ChloS clapped her little hands, steadied her water-pot, and sprang up on the staging of the treadmill beside Mago.

"It is he ! ” she cried. " It must be Master Drusus coming back from Athens ! ” She was a bit excited, for an event like the arrival of a new master was a great occurrence in the monotonous life of a country slave.

The cortege was still a good way off.

"What is Master Drusus like?” asked Chlog. "Will he be kind, or will he be always whipping like Mamercus ? ”

" He was not in charge of the estate,” replied Lais, the older woman, " when he went away to study at Athens * a few years ago. But he was always kind as a lad. Cappadox, his old body-servant, worshipped him. I hope he will take the charge of the farm out of the steward’s hands.”

" Here he comes ! ” cried Hasdrubal. " I can see him in the nearest carriage.” And then all four broke out with their salutation, " Salve ! Salve, Domine / ” * " Good health to your lordship ! ”

A little way behind the outriders rolled a comfortable, four-wheeled, covered carriage,® ornamented with handsome embossed plate-work of bronze. Two sleek, jet-black steeds were whirling it swiftly onward. Behind, a couple of equally speedy grey mules were drawing an open wagon loaded with baggage, and containing two smart-looking slave-boys. But all four persons at the treadmill had fixed their eyes on the

1 A few years at the philosophy schools of that famous city were almost as common to Roman students and men of culture as “ studying in Germany ” to their American successors.

* Master, “ Lord " of slaves and freedmen.

8 Rheda.

PR^ESTE other conveyance. Besides a sturdy driver, whose ponderous hands seemed too powerful to handle the fine leather reins, there were sitting within an elderly, decently dressed man, and at his side another much younger. The former personage was Pausanias, the freedman and travelling companion ^ of his friend and patron, Quintus Livius Drusus, the ‘‘ Master Drusus” of whom the slaves had been speaking. Chloe’s sharp eyes scanned her strange owner very keenly, and the impres sion he created was not in the least unfavourable. Drusus was apparently of about two and twenty. As he was sitting, he appeared a trifle short in stature, with a thick frame, solid shoulders, long arms, and large hands. His face was dis¬ tinctively Roman. The features were a little irregular, though not to an unpleasant extent. The profile was aquiline. His eyes were brown and piercing, turning perpetually this way and that, to grasp every detail of the scene around. His dark, reddish hair was clipped close, and his chin was smooth shaven and decidedly firm — stern, even, the face might have been called, except for the relief afforded by a delicately curved mouth — not weak, but affable and ingenuous. Drusus wore a dark travelling cloak,® and from imderneath it peeped his tunic, with its stripe of narrow purple — the badge of the Roman equestrian order.® On his finger was another emblem of nobility — a large, plain, gold ring, conspicuous among several other rings with costly settings.

“ Salve ! Salve, Domine ! ” cried the slaves a second time, as the carriage drew near. The young master pushed back the blue woollen curtains in order to gain a better view, then motioned to the driver to stop.

1 Most wealthy Komans had such a major domo, whose position was ofteii one of honour and trust.

* Pemula- 8 The second order of the Roman nobility.

“Are you slaves of mine?” was his question. The ton* was interested and kindly, and Mago saluted profoundly, and replied : —

We are the slaves of the most noble Quintus Livius Dru* eus, who owns this estate.”

“I am he,” replied the young man, smiling. “The day is hot. It grows late. You have toiled enough. Go you all and rest. Here, Pausanias, give them each a philippus,^ with which to remember my home-coming ! ”

“Eu I Eu I lo Domine /” cried the slaves, giving vent to their delight. And Chloe whispered to Lais: “You were right. The new master will be kind. There will not be so many whippings.”

But while Pausanias was fumbling in the money-bags, a new instance of the generosity of Drusus was presented. Down a by-path in the field filed a sorrowful company ; a long row of slaves in fetters, bound together by a band and chain round the waist of each. They were a disreputable enough gang of unkempt, unshaven, half-clothed wretches: Gauls and Ger¬ mans with fair hair and giant physiques ; dark-haired Syri¬ ans; black-skinned Africans, — all panting and groaning, clanking their chains, and cursing softly at the two sullen overseers, who, with heavy-loaded whips, were literally driv¬ ing them down into the road.

Again Drusus spoke.

“ Whose slaves are these ? Mine ? ”

“ They are your lordship’s,” said the foremost overseer, who had just recognized his newly come employer.

“ Why are they in chains ? ” asked Drusus.

* A Greek gold piece worth about ^3.60 at the time of the story. At this time Rome coined little gold.

2 Good 1 Good 1 Hurrah 1

PR^NESTE

<*Mamercus found them refractory,” replied the guard, ‘^and ordered them to be kept in the underground prison,^ and to work in the chain gang.”

The young man made a motion of disgust.

“ Bah ! ” he remarked, ‘‘ the whole familia ^ will be in fetters if Mamercus has his way much longer. Knock off those chains. Tell the wretches they are to remain unshackled only so long as they behave. Give them three skins to-night from which to drink their master’s health. Drive on, Cappadox ! ”

And before the fettered slaves could comprehend their release from confinement, and break out into a chorus of bar¬ barous and uncouth thanksgivings and blessings, the carriage had vanished from sight down the turn of the road.

n

Who was Quintus Livius Drusus? Doubtless he would havv=i felt highly insulted if his family history had not been fairly well known to every respectable person around Praeneste and to a very large and select circle at Rome. When a man could take Livius^ for his gentile name, and Drusus for his cognomen, he had a right to hold his head high, and regard himself as one of the noblest and best of the imperial city. But of course the Drusian house had a number of branches, and the history of Quintus’s direct family was this. He was the grandson of that Marcus Livius Drusus ^ who, though an

1 Ergastulum. 2 Slave household.

3 Every Roman had a prsenomen, or “ Christian name ” ; also a gentile name of the gens or clan to which he belonged ; and commonly in addition a cogno* men, usually an epithet descriptive of some personal peculiarity of an ancestor, which had fastened itself upon the immediate descendants of that ancestor The Livii Drusi were among the noblest of the Roman houses.

4 Died in 91 b.c.

aristocrat of the aristocrats, had dared to believe that the oligarchs were too strong, the Roman Commons without char¬ acter, and that the Italian freemen were suffering from wrongs inflicted by both of the parties at the capital. For his efforts to right the abuses, he had met with a reward very common to statesmen of his day, a dagger-thrust from the hand of an undiscovered assassin. He had left a son, Sextus, a man of culture and talent, who remembered his father’s fate, and walked for a time warily in politics. Sextus had married twice. Once to a very noble lady of the Fabian gens, the mother of his son Quintus. Then some years after her death he took in marriage a reigning beauty, a certain Valeria, who soon developed such extravagance and frivolity, that, soon after she bore him a daughter, he was forced to send her a messenger”; in other words, to divorce her. The daughter had been put under the guardianship of Sextus’s sister-in-law Fabia, one of the Vestal virgins at Rome. Sextus himself had accepted an appointment to a tribuneship in a legion of Caesar in Gaul. When he departed for the wars he took with him as fellow officer a life-long friend, Caius Cornelius Lentulus ; and ere leaving for the campaign the two had formed a com¬ pact quite in keeping with the stern Roman spirit that made the child the slave of the father: Young Quintus Drusus should marry Cornelia, Lentulus’s only child, as soon as the two came to a proper age. And so the friends went away to win glory in Gaul ; to perish side by side, when Sabinus’s ill-fated legion was cut off by the Eburones.^

The son and the daughter remained. Quintus Drusus had had kindly guardians ; he had been sent for four years to the University ” at Athens ; had studied rhetoric and philosophy ; and now he was back with his career before him, — master of

PK^NESTE himself, of a goodly fortune, of a noble inheritance of high¬ born ancestry. And he was to marry Cornelia. No thought of thwarting his father’s mandate crossed his mind ; he was bound by the decree of the dead. He had not seen his be¬ trothed for four years. He remembered her as a bright-eyed, merry little girl, who had an arch way of making all to mind her. But he remembered too, that her mother was a vapid lady of fashion, that her uncle and guardian was Lucius Cor¬ nelius Lentulus Crus, Consul-elect,^ a man of little refinement or character. And four years were long enough to mar a young girl’s life. What would she be like ? What had time made of her ? The curiosity — we will not call it passion — ■ was overpowering. Pure “ love ” was seldom recognized as such by the age. When the carriage reached a spot where two roads forked, leading to adjacent estates, Hrusus alighted.

“ Is her ladyship Cornelia at the villa of the Lentuli ? ” was his demand of a gardener who was trimming a hedge along the way.

“ Ah ! Master Hrusus,” cried the fellow, dropping his sickle in delight. ‘‘Joy to see you ! Yes, she is in the grove by the villa; by the great cypress you know so well. But how you have changed, sir — ”

But Hrusus was off. The path was familiar. Through the trees he caught glimpses of the stately mazes of colonnades of the Lentulan villa, surrounded by its artificially arranged gar¬ dens, and its wide stretches of lawn and orchard. The grove had been his playground. Here was the oak under which Cornelia and he had gathered acorns. The remnants of the little brush house they had built still survived. His step quickened. He heard the rush of the little stream that wound

1 The two Koman consuls were magistrates of the highest rank, and were diosen each year by the people.

through, the grove. Then he saw ahead of him a fern thickel^ and the brook flashing its water beyond. In his recolleo tion a bridge had here crossed the streamlet. It had been removed. Just across, swayed the huge cypress. Drusus stepped forward. At last ! He pushed carefully through the thicket, making only a little noise, and glanced across the brook.

There were ferns all around the cypress. Ivies twined about its trunk. On the bank the green turf looked dry, but cool. Just under the tree the brook broke into a miniature cascade, and went rippling down in a score of pygmy, spark¬ ling waterfalls. On a tiny promontory a marble nymph, a fine bit of Greek sculpture, was pouring, without respite, from a water-urn into the gurgling flood. But Drusus did not gaze at the nymph. Close beside the image, half lying, half sitting, in an abandon only to be produced by a belief that she was quite alone, rested a young woman. It was Cornelia.

Drusus had made no disturbance, and the object on which he fastened his eyes had not been in the least stirred out of a rather deep reverie. He stood for a while half bashful, half contemplative. Cornelia had taken off her shoes and let her little white feet trail down into the water. She wore only her white tunic, and had pushed it back so that her arms were almost bare. At the moment she was resting lazily on one elbow, and gazing abstractedly up at the moving ocean of green overhead. She was only sixteen ; but in the warm Italian clime that age had brought her to maturity. No one would have said that she was beautiful, from the point of view of mere softly sensuous Greek beauty. Rather, she was handsome, as became the daughter of Cornelii and Claudii. She was tall ; her hair, which was bound in a plain knot on the back of her head, was dark — almost

PR^NESTE black; her eyes were large, grey, lustrous, and on occasion could be proud and angry. Yet with it all she was pretty pretty, said Drusus to himself, as any girl he had seen in Athens. Eor there were coy dimples in her delicate little chin, her finely chiselled features were not angular, while her cheeks were aglow with a healthy colour that needed no rouge to heighten. In short, Cornelia, like Drusus, was a Roman; and Drusus saw that she was a Roman, and was glad.

Presently something broke the reverie. Cornelia’s eyes dropped from the treetops, and lighted up with attention. One glance across the brook into the fern thicket; then one irrepressible feminine scream ; and then : ■ —

“ Cornelia ! ” “ Quintus I ”

Drusus sprang forward, but almost fell into the brooklet. The bridge was gone. Cornelia had started up, and tried to cover her arms and shake her tunic over her feet. Her cheeks were all smiles and blushes. But Drusus’s situation was both pathetic and ludicrous. He had his fiancee almost in his arms, and yet the stream stopped him. Instantly Cornelia was in laughter.

“ Oh ! My second Leander,” she cried, will you be brave, and swim again from Abydos to Sestos to meet your Hero ? ”

“Better!” replied Drusus, now nettled; “see!” And though the leap was a long one he cleared it, tnd landed close by the marble nymph.

Drusus had not exactly mapped out for himself the method of approaching the young woman who had been his child play¬ mate. Cornelia, however, solved all his perplexity. Changing suddenly from laughter into what were almost tears, she fiung her arms around his neck, and kissed him again and again.

“ Oh, Quintus ! Quintus ! ” she cried, nearly sobbing, “ I am 90 glad you have come I ”

^And I am glad,” said the young man, perhaps with a tremor in his voice.

“ I never knew how I wanted you, until you are here,” shft continued; “I didn’t look for you to-day. I supposed you would come from Puteoli to-morrow. Oh ! Quintus, you must be very kind to me. Perhaps I am very stupid. But I am tired, tired.”

Drusus looked at her in a bit of astonishment.

“Tired ! I can’t see that you look fatigued.”

“ Not in body,” went on Cornelia, still holding on to him. “ But here, sit down on the grass. Let me hold your hands. You do not mind. I want to talk with you. No, don’t interrupt. I must tell you. I have been here in Praeneste only a week. I wanted to get away from Baise.* I was afraid to stay there with my mother.”

“Afraid to stay at that lovely seashore house with your mother ! ” exclaimed Drusus, by no means unwilling to sit as entreated, but rather bewildered in mind.

“I was afraid of Lucius Ahenobarbus, the consular^ Domitius’s second son. I don’t like him I there /” and Cornelia’s grey eyes lit up with menacing fire.

“ Afraid of Lucius Ahenobarbus ! ” laughed Drusus. “ Well, I don’t think I call him a very dear friend. But why should he trouble you ? ”

“ It was ever since last spring, when I was in the new theatre® seeing the play, that he came around, thrust himself upon me, and tried to pay attentions. Then he has kept them up evei since ; he followed us to Baiae ; and the worst of it is, my mother and uncle rather favour him. So I had Stephanus, my

1 The famous watering-place on the Bay of Naples.

* An ex-consul was known by this title.

* Built by Pompeius the Great, in 55-51 b.c.

PE^NESTE

IS friend the physician, say that sea air was not good for me, and I was sent here. My mother and uncle will come in a few days, but not that fellow Lucius, I hope. I was so tired try¬ ing to keep him off.”

“ I will take care of the knave,” said Drusus, smiling. “ So this is the trouble ? I wonder that your mother should have anything to do with such a fellow. I hear in letters that he goes with a disreputable gang. He is a boon companion with Marcus Lseca, the old Catilinian,^ who is a smooth-headed villain, and to use a phrase of my father’s good friend Cicero — * has his head and eyebrows always shaved, that he may not be said to have one hair of an honest man about him.’ But he will have to reckon with me now. Now it is my turn to talk. Your long story has been very short. Nor is mine long. My old uncle Publius Vibulanus is dead. I never knew him well enough to be able to mourn him bitterly. Enough, he died at ninety ; and just as I arrive at Puteoli comes a message that I am his sole heir. His freedmen knew I was coming, embalmed the body, and wait for me to go to Eome to-mor¬ row to give the funeral oration and light the pyre. He has left a fortune fit to compare with that of Crassus® — real estate, investments, a lovely villa at Tusculum. And now I

— no, we — are wealthy beyond avarice. Shall we not thank the Gods?”

“ I thank them for nothing,” was her answer ; then more shyly, “except for your own coming; for, Quintus, you — you

— will marry me before very long ? ”

“What hinders?” cried the other, in the best of spirits. “ To-morrow I go to Eome ; then back again ! And then alj

1 A member of the band who with Catiline conspired in 63 b.c to over throw the Roman government.

^ The Roman millionaire who had just been slain in Parthia.

PraBneste will flock to our marriage train. No, pout no more over Lucius Akenobarbus. He shan’t pay disagreeable atten¬ tions. And now over to the old villa ; for Mamercus is eating his heart out to see me I ”

And away they went arm in arm.

Drusus’s head was in the air. He had resolved to marry Cornelia, cost what it might to his desires. He knew now that he was afflanced to the one maiden in the world quite after his own heart.

m

The paternal villa of Hrusus lay on the lower part of the slope of the Prseneste citadel, facing the east. It was a genuine country and farming estate — not a mere refuge from the city heat and hubbub. The Drusi had dwelt on it for gen¬ erations, and Quintus had spent his boyhood upon it. The whole mass of farm land was in the very pink of cultivation. There were lines cf stately old elms enclosing the estate ; and within, in regular sequence, lay vineyards producing the rather poor Praeneste wine, olive orchards, groves of walnut trees, and many other fririts. Returning to the point where he had left the carriage, Drusus led Cornelia up a broad avenue flanked by noble planes and cypresses. Before them soon stood, or rather stretched, the country house. It was a large grey stone building, added to, from time to time, by successive owners. Only in front did it show signs of modern taste and elegance. Here ran a colonnade of twelve red porphyry pillars, with Co¬ rinthian capitals. The part of the house reserved for the master lay behind this entrance way. Back of it rambled the structure used by the farm steward, and the slaves and cattle. The whole house was low — in fact practically one-storied?

PR^NESTE and the effect produced was perhaps substantial, but hardly imposing.

Up the broad avenue went the two young people ; too busy with their owm gay chatter to notice at a distance how figures were running in and out amid the colonnade, and how the pillars were festooned with flowers. But as they drew nearer a throng was evident. The whole farm establishment — men, women, and children — had assembled, garlanded and gayly dressed, to greet the young master. Perhaps five hundred persons — nearly all slaves — had been employed on the huge estate, and they were all at hand. As Drusus came up the avenue, a general shout of welcome greeted him.

“ Ave / Ave ! Domine 1 ” and there were some shouts as Cornelia was seen of, *^Avef DominaV^

“Domina^ here very soon,” said Drusus, smiling to the young lady ; and disengaging himself from her, he advanced to greet personally a tall, ponderous figure, with white, flowing hair, a huge white beard, and a left arm that had been severed at the wrist, who came forward with a swinging military Stride that seemed to belie his evident years.