'Pleasure unites strange varieties,' answered Glaucus. 'He amuses me...'

'And flatters--but then he pays himself well! He powders his praise with gold-dust.'

'You often hint that he plays unfairly--think you so really?'

'My dear Glaucus, a Roman n.o.ble has his dignity to keep up--dignity is very expensive--Clodius must cheat like a scoundrel, in order to live like a gentleman.'

'Ha ha!--well, of late I have renounced the dice. Ah! Sall.u.s.t, when I am wedded to Ione, I trust I may yet redeem a youth of follies. We are both born for better things than those in which we sympathize now--born to render our worship in n.o.bler temples than the stye of Epicurus.'

'Alas!' returned Sall.u.s.t, in rather a melancholy tone, 'what do we know more than this--life is short--beyond the grave all is dark? There is no wisdom like that which says "enjoy".'

'By Bacchus! I doubt sometimes if we do enjoy the utmost of which life is capable.'

'I am a moderate man,' returned Sall.u.s.t, 'and do not ask "the utmost".

We are like malefactors, and intoxicate ourselves with wine and myrrh, as we stand on the brink of death; but, if we did not do so, the abyss would look very disagreeable. I own that I was inclined to be gloomy until I took so heartily to drinking--that is a new life, my Glaucus.'

'Yes! but it brings us next morning to a new death.'

'Why, the next morning is unpleasant, I own; but, then, if it were not so, one would never be inclined to read. I study betimes--because, by the G.o.ds! I am generally unfit for anything else till noon.'

'Fie, Scythian!'

'Pshaw! the fate of Pentheus to him who denies Bacchus.'

'Well, Sall.u.s.t, with all your faults, you are the best profligate I ever met: and verily, if I were in danger of life, you are the only man in all Italy who would stretch out a finger to save me.'

'Perhaps I should not, if it were in the middle of supper. But, in truth, we Italians are fearfully selfish.'

'So are all men who are not free,' said Glaucus, with a sigh. 'Freedom alone makes men sacrifice to each other.'

'Freedom, then, must be a very fatiguing thing to an Epicurean,'

answered Sall.u.s.t. 'But here we are at our host's.'

As Diomed's villa is one of the most considerable in point of size of any yet discovered at Pompeii, and is, moreover, built much according to the specific instructions for a suburban villa laid down by the Roman architect, it may not be uninteresting briefly to describe the plan of the apartments through which our visitors pa.s.sed.

They entered, then, by the same small vestibule at which we have before been presented to the aged Medon, and pa.s.sed at once into a colonnade, technically termed the peristyle; for the main difference between the suburban villa and the town mansion consisted in placing, in the first, the said colonnade in exactly the same place as that which in the town mansion was occupied by the atrium. In the centre of the peristyle was an open court, which contained the impluvium.

From this peristyle descended a staircase to the offices; another narrow pa.s.sage on the opposite side communicated with a garden; various small apartments surrounded the colonnade, appropriated probably to country visitors. Another door to the left on entering communicated with a small triangular portico, which belonged to the baths; and behind was the wardrobe, in which were kept the vests of the holiday suits of the slaves, and, perhaps, of the master. Seventeen centuries afterwards were found those relics of ancient finery calcined and crumbling: kept longer, alas! than their thrifty lord foresaw.

Return we to the peristyle, and endeavor now to present to the reader a coup d'oeil of the whole suite of apartments, which immediately stretched before the steps of the visitors.

Let him then first imagine the columns of the portico, hung with festoons of flowers; the columns themselves in the lower part painted red, and the walls around glowing with various frescoes; then, looking beyond a curtain, three parts drawn aside, the eye caught the tablinum or saloon (which was closed at will by glazed doors, now slid back into the walls). On either side of this tablinum were small rooms, one of which was a kind of cabinet of gems; and these apartments, as well as the tablinum, communicated with a long gallery, which opened at either end upon terraces; and between the terraces, and communicating with the central part of the gallery, was a hall, in which the banquet was that day prepared. All these apartments, though almost on a level with the street, were one story above the garden; and the terraces communicating with the gallery were continued into corridors, raised above the pillars which, to the right and left, skirted the garden below.

Beneath, and on a level with the garden, ran the apartments we have already described as chiefly appropriated to Julia.

In the gallery, then, just mentioned, Diomed received his guests.

The merchant affected greatly the man of letters, and, therefore, he also affected a pa.s.sion for everything Greek; he paid particular attention to Glaucus.

'You will see, my friend,' said he, with a wave of his hand, 'that I am a little cla.s.sical here--a little Cecropian--eh? The hall in which we shall sup is borrowed from the Greeks. It is an OEcus Cyzicene. n.o.ble Sall.u.s.t, they have not, I am told, this sort of apartment in Rome.'

'Oh!' replied Sall.u.s.t, with a half smile; 'you Pompeians combine all that is most eligible in Greece and in Rome; may you, Diomed, combine the viands as well as the architecture!'

'You shall see--you shall see, my Sall.u.s.t,' replied the merchant. 'We have a taste at Pompeii, and we have also money.'

'They are two excellent things,' replied Sall.u.s.t. 'But, behold, the lady Julia!'

The main difference, as I have before remarked, in the manner of life observed among the Athenians and Romans, was, that with the first, the modest women rarely or never took part in entertainments; with the latter, they were the common ornaments of the banquet; but when they were present at the feast, it usually terminated at an early hour.

Magnificently robed in white, interwoven with pearls and threads of gold, the handsome Julia entered the apartment.

Scarcely had she received the salutation of the two guests, ere Pansa and his wife, Lepidus, Clodius, and the Roman senator, entered almost simultaneously; then came the widow Fulvia; then the poet Fulvius, like to the widow in name if in nothing else; the warrior from Herculaneum, accompanied by his umbra, next stalked in; afterwards, the less eminent of the guests. Ione yet tarried.

It was the mode among the courteous ancients to flatter whenever it was in their power: accordingly it was a sign of ill-breeding to seat themselves immediately on entering the house of their host. After performing the salutation, which was usually accomplished by the same cordial shake of the right hand which we ourselves retain, and sometimes, by the yet more familiar embrace, they spent several minutes in surveying the apartment, and admiring the bronzes, the pictures, or the furniture, with which it was adorned--a mode very impolite according to our refined English notions, which place good breeding in indifference. We would not for the world express much admiration of another man's house, for fear it should be thought we had never seen anything so fine before!

'A beautiful statue this of Bacchus!' said the Roman senator.

'A mere trifle!' replied Diomed.

'What charming paintings!' said Fulvia.

'Mere trifles!' answered the owner.

'Exquisite candelabra!' cried the warrior.

'Exquisite!' echoed his umbra.

'Trifles! trifles!' reiterated the merchant.

Meanwhile, Glaucus found himself by one of the windows of the gallery, which communicated with the terraces, and the fair Julia by his side.

'Is it an Athenian virtue, Glaucus,' said the merchant's daughter, 'to shun those whom we once sought?'

'Fair Julia--no!'

'Yet methinks, it is one of the qualities of Glaucus.'

'Glaucus never shuns a friend!' replied the Greek, with some emphasis on the last word.

'May Julia rank among the number of his friends?'

'It would be an honour to the emperor to find a friend in one so lovely.'

'You evade my question,' returned the enamoured Julia. 'But tell me, is it true that you admire the Neapolitan Ione?'

'Does not beauty constrain our admiration?'

'Ah! subtle Greek, still do you fly the meaning of my words. But say, shall Julia be indeed your friend?'