THE TABLE SEATS.
The Jews originally sat down to their meals; but when they became subject to Persia they laid on couches at their repasts, like their conquerors, and other oriental nations, from whom the Greeks and Romans borrowed their custom.[XXXII_39] The most distinguished place was at the head of the table, at the extremity of the room, near the wall. Saul sat in this place of honour.[XXXII_40] Under the reign of Solomon, the Hebrews still used seats.[XXXII_41] The Egyptians were early acquainted with the effeminate sumptuousness of table couches. They often placed on them the venerated images of Jupiter, Juno, and their king himself.[XXXII_42]
Before they had adopted this refinement of oriental luxury, the Greeks sat at their repasts on chairs, more or less costly, but all very elegant, similar to those which adorn our drawing-rooms, and which have been modelled from theirs.[XXXII_43]
Homer’s heroes sat down to table,[XXXII_44] and Alexander the Great appears to have preserved the custom. That prince giving a repast to ten thousand persons, caused all to be seated in silver arm-chairs, covered with purple.[XXXII_45] However, Hegesander assures us that, among the Macedonians, he who had succeeded in killing a wild boar, reclined at full length, whilst the other guests remained seated.[XXXII_46]
Italy always imitated Greece, and, like her, had table couches, which at first, were only used by men: a feeling of propriety interdicted their use by women.[XXXII_47] But the relaxation of morals, seconded by fashion, soon banished this seeming reserve, and the two sexes could only eat in a reclining posture.[XXXII_48]
A round, low table, made of common wood, and resting on three legs, was placed in the dining-room of persons in humble life; the rich had it made of lemon or maple wood, and supported by a single ivory foot.[XXXII_49] Three couches at most were arranged round this table (triclinium);[XXXII_50] sometimes two, which Plautus names biclinium;[XXXII_51] and these they covered with purple or other magnificent stuffs.[XXXII_52] Before they placed themselves, the guests performed their ablutions and threw off their togas, to substitute the “dinner robe.”[XXXII_53] They then took off their sandals,[XXXII_54] and lay down, three or four on each couch.[XXXII_55] The rules of good society did not allow that number to be exceeded.
The upper part of the body was supported by the left elbow; the lower part was extended. The head was slightly raised, and downy little cushions supported the back.[XXXII_56] When several persons occupied the same couch, the first placed himself at the head, in such a manner that his feet nearly reached the shoulders of the second guest, whose head was before the middle of the body of the preceding one, from whom he was separated by a cushion; and his feet descended to the back of the third guest, who followed the same order with respect to the fourth.[XXXII_57]
When a couch contained three persons, the one in the middle occupied the place of honour; when there were four, that distinction belonged to the second. The place at the head of the couch was only offered to the most worthy, when not more than two persons were on the couch.[XXXII_58]
Among the Persians, the middle place was reserved for the king. Cyrus placed on his left the guest to whom he wished to do the most honour, the next on his right, the third on the left, the fourth on the right, and so on, down to the last.[XXXII_59] In Greece, the most distinguished personage occupied the head of the table.[XXXII_60]
The voluptuous Heliogabalus only made use of couches stuffed with hares’ down or partridges’ feathers.[XXXII_61] The Emperor Œlius Verus introduced a more exquisite novelty: he had his filled with lily and rose leaves.[XXXII_62] The first of these princes—a cruel monarch, or capricious child, according to his strange whims—amused himself, sometimes, by placing on a couch, round the sigma, at one time eight bald men; at another, eight gouty men; one day, eight grey-headed old men; another day, eight very fat men, who were so crowded together that it was almost impossible for them to raise their hands to the mouth. And the brainless dolt shook with laughter at their efforts and their contortions.[XXXII_63] One of his favourite diversions consisted in filling a leathern table-couch with air, instead of wool; and while the guests were engaged in drinking, a tap, concealed under the carpet, was opened, unknown to them; the couch sank, and the drinkers rolled pell-mell under the sigma, to the great delight of the beardless emperor, who enjoyed greatly his espiéglerie.[XXXII_64]
The Celts seated themselves at their repasts on hay, before very low tables;[XXXII_65] the Belgians reclined on a kind of couch;[XXXII_66] the Gauls on the skins of dogs or wolves.[XXXII_67] These different authorities are easily reconciled; for they relate to different cantons of Gaul.
The use of couches was not unknown in the middle ages; we find the proof of it in the fabliaux of the 13th century. We have also the description of a magnificent repast given by a bishop to two great officers of Charlemagne, at which the prelate was seated, or lying, on feather cushions.[XXXII_68] But this fashion was unsuccessful, and people preferred wooden seats and stools, covered with carpet. When they gave a great feast, they seated the guests on benches—bancs—whence comes the word “banquet.”[XXXII_69] Henry III. of France introduced arm-chairs for himself, and folding stools for his suite.[XXXII_70] Sometimes people eat on the floor. St. Arnold, Bishop of Soissons, took his repast in that manner on the day of the dedication of a church, after having had carpets spread on the ground.[XXXII_71] In winter the banqueting place was spread with straw or hay, and in summer with grass and leaves. Publicans and tavern-keepers decorated their rooms in like manner.[XXXII_72]
The gallantry of the middle ages had led to the adoption of a rather singular custom, which consisted in placing the guests two and two, man and woman, and serving for each couple one common dish, which they called “eating in the same porringer.” Neither had they more than one cup. In families the same goblet served for all. Saint Berlanda was disinherited by her father, who was exasperated because, under pretext that he was leprous, she had washed his goblet before making use of it for herself.[XXXII_73]
A passage in Martial would seem to imply that the guests, among the Romans, laid the cloth themselves;[XXXII_74] that is to say, they spread on the sigma the stuff, more or less precious, with which it was to be adorned.
A somewhat whimsical custom was established in the middle ages of chivalry. When it was intended to affront any one, a herald, or king-at-arms, was sent to cut the cloth before him, and turn his bread upside down. That was called “cutting away the cloth,” and was practised in reference to cowards and faithless vassals. It is thought that Bertrand Duguesclin was the originator of this custom.[XXXII_75]
Mention is made of table-cloths in the life of St. Eloi. They were in use on common tables; but the costly ones were not covered. These cloths were plushed and shaggy, as we find by the description of Nigellus, the author of a poem on Louis-le-Débonnaire. They were of vast dimensions. In the inventory of certain effects in the monastery of Fontenelle, in the 9th century, we read of four table-cloths, each of which measured twelve yards and a-half by two and a-half; another, twelve and a-half by three and three-quarters; and thirteen, three yards and three-quarters wide.
In the 12th and 13th centuries table-cloths were called, in France, doubliers, doubtless because they were folded in two. This practice was eventually given up; and instead of a doubled cloth, the first was covered by a smaller one, and removed at the last course. Henry III. required this dessert cloth to be artistically plaited, so as to present pleasing designs.[XXXII_76]
Napkins were much used in Greece and Italy. In the time of Augustus, and many years after, each guest brought his own, as we bring our pocket-handkerchiefs. Catullus complains of a certain Asinius, who had stolen his. Martial brings a similar accusation against a parasite named Hermogenes.[XXXII_77]
Napkins were sometimes made of asbestos, and they were thrown into a brazier to clean them.[XXXII_78] But these rarities were seldom possessed by any but princes, for asbestos was as expensive as jewels.[XXXII_79]
The constitution of St. Ansegisius for the monastery of Fontenelle mentions plush napkins to wipe the hands, but they were only used before and after the repast. The town of Rheims was renowned in the middle ages for the manufacture of table linen. When Charles VII. made his entrance there they presented him with napkins, “very rich and curious by reason of the beautiful flowered work.”
XXXIII.
THE SERVANTS.
All the opulent families had a great number of servants, or slaves, whose low extraction,[XXXIII_1] the chances of war,[XXXIII_2] or the parental will,[XXXIII_3] subjected to the caprices of the rich as a mere thing possessed, a right, a property (res).
They were known, like the slaves of the Jews[XXXIII_4] in former times, by their ears, which were pierced with an awl;[XXXIII_5] an ineffaceable stigma, which always reminded the freed-man of his former humiliation. The slave was also often marked with a hot iron on the back, the hands, the cheeks, or the forehead; and the characters thus imprinted served the master as an evidence against his fugitive servant in whatsoever place he might find him.[XXXIII_6] It is, perhaps, to similar marks that the prophet Zechariah makes allusion, when he says: “What are these wounds in thine hands?”[XXXIII_7] Plautus, whose comic vein respects neither the power of the Gods nor the sanctity of misfortune, calls these unfortunate creatures “lettered slaves” (servos literatos).[XXXIII_8]
A house of any note could not do without a crowd of servants, to whom the steward (dispensator) apportioned the labour, the food, and the chastisements.[XXXIII_9]
In a lodge near the vestibule was the porter (ostiarius),[XXXIII_10] whose watchful eye observed every one who went in or out by day or night. They made sure of his vigilance by chaining him to his place.[XXXIII_11]
The hall (atrium) was guarded by an intelligent and confidential servant, whose functions raised him above the other slaves.[XXXIII_12] The atriensis—such was his designation—had the care of the arms, trophies, precious furniture, and books, which adorned this apartment. He had also to take extreme care of the paintings and wax figures there preserved from motives of vanity or by a sentiment of respect; and it was he who carried those images of venerated ancestors before the funeral procession of the head of the family when, in his turn, death had numbered him with his progenitors.[XXXIII_13]
The obsonator bought in the markets the meat, fruit, and delicacies necessary for the repasts.[XXXIII_14]
The vocatores carried the invitations, received the guests, and placed them at table according to their rank.[XXXIII_15] These functions required a peculiar kind of urbanity and long experience on the part of the individual who fulfilled them.
The arrangement, the keeping in order, and adornment of the table-couches belonged exclusively to the cubicularii (valets).[XXXIII_16] These servants are mentioned in Suetonius and other ancient authors. The Cæsars had a great number of cubicularii who obeyed one particular chief.[XXXIII_17]
The dapiferi brought the dishes into the dining-room,[XXXIII_18] and the nomenclators (nomenculatores) immediately informed the guests of the names and qualities of the things with which they were going to be served.[XXXIII_19]
The structor arranged the dishes symmetrically.[XXXIII_20] The scissor (carver) cut up the meats to the sound of musical instruments, of which he followed the measure. Finally, young slaves (procillatores),[XXXIII_21] served the guests attentively, and poured out their drink. Those chosen for this employment were fine, beardless, adolescent youths, with a fresh complexion, whose long silky hair fell in curls over the shoulders. A wide riband which went twice round the waist confined their fine, white tunic—a light, graceful vestment, which descended in front to the knees, and behind hardly covered the hamstring.[XXXIII_22]
While the guests, softly reclining on their table-couches, were enjoying the agreeable surprise reserved for them by an amiable amphitryon, slaves (sandaligeruli) attended to their sandals, and fastened them on at the moment of departure.[XXXIII_23] Others, (flabellarii) armed with fans of peacocks’ feathers,[XXXIII_24] drove away the flies, and cooled the banqueting-hall.[XXXIII_25]
The banquet terminated, servants with torches and lanterns (adversitores) conducted their masters home, and pointed out to them the stones that might be lying in their path, and which repeated libations might have prevented their visual organs from discovering.[XXXIII_26]
We must not omit, in this nomenclature of the principal servants of a good house, the taster (prægustator), who tasted or tried the viands before the guests touched them;[XXXIII_27] nor the chief steward (triclinarches), and director of the repast, who had to occupy himself with an infinity of details in the kitchen, the cellar, the pantry, the buffet, and the dining-room.[XXXIII_28]
A living synthesis of these multiplied services, he performed them all himself. The least negligence, the slightest absence of mind on his part, would have ruined the reputation, utterly marred the sumptuous hospitality, of his master.
Never did the general of an army tremble under the weight of a responsibility so redoubtable.
Procillatores, or cup-bearer, an officer whose duty was to fill and present the cup to the king and princes. This charge was known in Egypt, and the ancients transformed Ganymede into a cup-bearer to the gods.
Charlemagne had master cup-bearers. These officers signed royal charters, and kept rank amongst the great officers of state. The head one took the title of Echanson to the king, of master, premier, or great échanson. In the 15th century the échansons exercised their functions only on the coronations, marriages, and entries of kings and queens. Louis XVIII. re-established the office of premier échanson. It was abolished in 1830.
There was, moreover, a class of miserable, obscure, despised slaves, whose useful labours rendered them necessary, and who were treated much the same as beasts of burden. This order of subaltern servants were composed of:—
The lecticarii. They carried the elegant palanquin in which the haughty matron or the noble senator were conveyed to the banqueting-hall.[XXXIII_29]
The stokers (focarii), who cut the wood, lighted, and attended to the fires.[XXXIII_30]
The sweepers (scoparii), whose indefatigable activity kept the apartments and furniture clean.[XXXIII_31]
DESCRIPTION OF [PLATE No. XXVIII.]
No. 1. Procillatores, or Echanson, from a painting at Herculaneum.
No. 2. Triclinium, from a sculpture at Pompeii.
The washers (peniculi). With a sponge and a cloth they cleaned the precious tables which adorned the cœnaculum, or dining-room. Sometimes, also, they had to lay the covers.[XXXIII_32]
This rapid sketch will enable the reader to form a sufficiently correct idea of the comfort and luxury which prevailed among the Romans, and of which the Greeks set them the example. It is hardly necessary to remark that the cup-bearers, stewards, carvers, and other household officers, whose names belong to modern Europe, perform functions analogous to those which similar servants performed formerly in Italy. But these last were debased by the stigma of slavery, and degraded by long habit, whilst the others were citizens.
XXXIV.
THE GUESTS.
The Jews and the Egyptians washed the feet of the persons whom they received into their houses, and offered them larger portions as a mark of greater honour.[XXXIV_1] These homely and hospitable usages have disappeared with the simplicity of the primitive ages.
The Greeks required their guests to arrive neither too soon nor too late. It was a rule of politeness from which nothing could exempt them,[XXXIV_2] and which we ourselves observe at this day.
In the Homeric ages each one received his share of meat and wine,[XXXIV_3] and the man who at that epoch piqued himself on his knowledge of the science of life, never failed to offer his neighbour a part of his dinner. So Ulysses gives Demodochus one-half of the “chine of beef” with which he is served.[XXXIV_4] It is true that the King of Ithaca was regarded as a perfect model of complaisance and delicacy.
Another custom (adopted it is said only in the modern taverns and dining-rooms) was that of warming the remains of a preceding banquet for other guests.[XXXIV_5] It must have constituted very poor fare, for the Greeks were remarkable for a formidable appetite, and their repasts were prolonged indefinitely. The banquet of Menelaus, noticed by Athenæus, is a proof of it. They eat at first without speaking, and after prodigies of mastication they began to discourse. Then, having washed their hands, face, and beard, a fresh attack was commenced, more formidable than the first; and when the ardour and energy of the assailants seemed to be exhausted, they hardly took time to breathe ere they fell on the viands with renewed avidity. Nothing resisted them; the dishes were cleared; only a few bones remained to certify their achievement.[XXXIV_6] A saddening, unsatisfactory trophy for future guests.
Archestrates, whose gastronomic axioms we cannot respect too much, was averse to large dinner parties. Three or four persons—five at most—chosen with care, assembled with taste, appeared to him sufficient[XXXIV_7] for those solemnities in which silence was to be maintained so long, under pain, said Montmaur, of no longer knowing what one eats.
The Lacedæmonians admitted as many as fifteen guests, but they elected a king of the banquet, and that ephemeral autocrat decided without appeal all questions which might have compromised the tranquillity of the banquet.[XXXIV_8]
Greater numbers met together in Athens. Plato gave a supper to twenty-eight of his friends.[XXXIV_9] Hundreds of citizens often met together at the public repasts; but then a magistrate was deputed to see that modesty, moderation, and temperance were observed.[XXXIV_10]
The Romans understood that it is at table that one lives; so they gave those whom they invited the name of conviva (cum vivere, living conjointly), a charming type of that easy, gentle cordiality which arises, is fortified, and displayed between those who partake of the same dishes, drain in friendship cups of the same wine, and separate with the hope of soon seeing a return of the same pleasures.
People were very polite in Rome, as in Greece, when they met in the dining-room. Never did they fail to make a low bow.[XXXIV_11] This act of Roman courtesy recalls a very pretty expression of Fontenelle’s, which we cannot refrain from citing. This grand nephew of the great Corneille passed, on his way to the table, before Madame Helvétius, whom he had not perceived. Fontenelle was then ninety years of age. “See,” said she, “what esteem I must have for your gallantry: you pass before me without looking at me.” “Be not surprised, Madam,” replied the old gallant; “if I had looked at you I should never have passed.”
In the year of Rome 570 (182 B.C.), the tribune of the people, C. Orchius, was the prime mover of the first sumptuary law, which enacted that the number of guests were not to exceed that of the Muses, nor be less than that of the Graces.[XXXIV_12] Subsequently seven were thought to be sufficient, and some insisted that when there were more the banquet ought rather to be called a rout.[XXXIV_13]
In the year of Rome 548, the Consul C. Fannius carried a law (Lex Fannia) which prohibited the assembling of more than three persons of the same family on ordinary days, or more than five at the nones, or on festival days.[XXXIV_14] This rigorous measure was pressingly solicited by the rational portion of every order of citizens, who could not witness without a shudder the whole of Italy plunge into the most brutifying excesses, after obscene orgies which we dare not describe.[XXXIV_15]
But who could dissipate that fearful bewilderment with which nations seem to be seized when they are about to fall? Rome blushed for her ancient virtues, and veiled them with dissolution and crimes. She had exhausted all the prodigies that the genius of debauchery could invent—she created monsters!
Ruinous banquets soon revived, and the number of guests had no other rule than the unbridled desire of ostentation and expense.
Let us not forget those miserable parasites who managed to get to the corner of a table in Greece and Italy, and to whom meagre portions were conceded as a reward for cringing servility, such as the vilest slave would have been ashamed to exhibit. There were three kinds of parasites. Some, under the name of buffoons, amused the company with their grotesque attitudes and ridiculous sayings.[XXXIV_16] Others allowed their ears to be boxed, and suffered a thousand different torments, provided a piece of meat or a bone were afterwards thrown to them. These patient sufferers[XXXIV_17] diverted the Greeks and Romans very much. The adulatory parasites were the most skilful of these hungry parias. They were well treated and almost respected. They were persons who possessed a kind of merit which was always equally appreciated, and to which we still render justice—they flattered whosoever gave them a supper.[XXXIV_18]
An energetic, familiar expression in French often replaces the word parasite, transmitted to us by the Greeks and Romans: that expression, which conveys the same idea, is pique-assiette, an image necessarily associated with disdain and insult.
The Count de Gerval had invited to his table several persons of high distinction, among whom was remarked one of those intruders who find means to get themselves received, notwithstanding the profound contempt they inspire. The dessert was just served, and a magnificent pear attracted the attention of the parasite, who endeavoured to bear it off on the point of his knife, but, in so doing, he broke a valuable plate. “The deuce take it, sir,” said the master of the house; “piquez l’assiette as long as you like, but don’t break it!”
The guests always washed their hands, and frequently their feet, before they placed themselves on the triclinium.[B][XXXIV_19] They received that custom from the orientals, and we find numerous examples of it in the Old and New Testaments.[XXXIV_20] Perfumes were then poured on their heads,[XXXIV_21] as among the Jews,[XXXIV_22] and wreaths of flowers were offered them.[XXXIV_23]
It was at this solemn moment that the guests turned their attention to the election of the king of the banquet, whose grave functions consisted in regulating the number of cups that each one was expected to empty during the repast.[XXXIV_24]
Among the Anglo-Saxons, he who wished to drink asked the nearest person to pledge him. The latter replied affirmatively, and immediately armed himself with his knife or his sword to protect the other while he emptied his cup. The death of Edward the Martyr, it is said, gave rise to this custom. Elfrida, his mother-in-law, caused him to be basely assassinated from behind whilst he was drinking.[XXXIV_25]
“The following,” says Strutt, “according to ancient historians, is the manner in which Rowena, daughter or niece of Hengist, drank to the health of Vortigern, King of the Britons. She entered the banqueting-hall where the prince was with his guests, and, making a low curtsey, she said: ‘To your health, my lord and king.’ Then, having put the cup to her lips, she presented it on her knees to Vortigern, who took it and emptied it, after having replied: ‘I drink to your health.’ ”[XXXIV_26]
We find in the works of Pasquier an affecting anecdote of the unfortunate Queen of Scotland, Mary Stuart: “On the eve of her death,” says he, “towards the end of the supper, she drank to all her attendants, commanding them to pledge her; the which obeying, and mingling their tears with their wine, they drank to their mistress.”
Divers spectacles, of which we shall have occasion to speak hereafter, occupied the leisure of the guests during the interval necessary to remove the remains of one course and serve the next. These representations and amusements, of which they never tired in the middle ages, received from our ancestors, in France, the name of entre-mets; a designation much more true and just than the modern acceptation imposed on the word—anything served between the roast and the dessert.
The entre-mets were interludes, pantomimes, concerts, and even melodramas performed between each course. So that a piece which in our days attracts crowds to one or other of the theatres, would have been then a little entre-met, or a cold side-dish (hors-d’œuvre).
In 1287, at the marriage of Robert, son of Saint-Louis, with Machault, Countess of Artois, very singular spectacles were given between each course of the banquet. A horseman crossed the hall by making his horse walk on a thick cord, extended above the heads of the guests. At the four corners of the table were musicians seated on oxen; and monkeys, mounted on goats, seemed to play the harp.[XXXIV_27]
A droll custom prevailed at the court of the Frank kings. St. Germier having come to solicit some favour from the King of the Franks, Clovis, that haughty Sicamber received the bishop with kindness, and had an excellent dinner served for him. The holy bishop took leave of the king after the banquet, and the king, who sometimes piqued himself upon his politeness, pulled out a hair, according to the custom of the time, and offered it to his guest. Each of the courtiers hastened, in his turn, to imitate the benevolent monarch, and the virtuous prelate returned to his diocese enchanted with the reception he had met with at the court.[XXXIV_28]
Among other amusements prepared for Queen Elizabeth, during her sojourn at the celebrated castle of Kenilworth, “There was,” says Laneham, “an Italian juggler who performed feats of strength and leaps, and cut such capers with so much suppleness and ease, that I began to ask myself whether it were a man or a sprite. Indeed I know not what to say of that comical fellow,” adds the artless chronicler; “I suppose his back must resemble that of a lamprey—it had no bone.”[XXXIV_29]
In England, during the middle ages, the courts of princes and the castles of the great were crowded with visitors, who were always received with sumptuous hospitality. The pomp displayed by the lords was truly extraordinary, and it is difficult to understand how their fortunes could suffice for it. They had their privy-counsellors, treasurers, secretaries, chaplains, heralds, pursuivants-at-arms, pages, guards, trumpeters—in a word, all the officers, all the servants, with which royalty itself is surrounded. And besides this numerous domestic establishment, there were troops of minstrels, clowns, jugglers, strolling players, rope-dancers, &c., lodged there at the great banqueting times. Each of the apartments open to the guests presented spectacles in harmony with the gross taste of the epoch. It was a marvellous confusion, a prodigious chaos, in which the ear was struck at once with the sound of dishes, of cups clashing one against another, of harmonious music, with the bustle of the dance, the notes of the song, pasquinades, somersaults, and everywhere the most boisterous laughter. The face of decency alone was slightly veiled.[XXXIV_30]
Sometimes the term entre-mets was also applied to decorations, which were paraded through the banqueting hall, and which represented cities, castles, and gardens, with fountains, whence flowed all kinds of liquors. At the dinner which Charles V. of France gave to the Emperor Charles IV. there was a grand spectacle, or entre-met. A vessel appeared with its masts, sails, and rigging; it advanced into the middle of the hall, by means of a machine concealed from the view of all. A moment after there appeared the city of Jerusalem; its towers covered with Saracens. The vessel approached it, and the city was taken by the Christian knights who manned the vessel.[XXXIV_31]
Among the Egyptians a funereal idea was made the means of rousing the erewhile buoyant spirits of the guests at the end of a repast. A servant entered carrying a skeleton, or the representation of a mummy, which he took slowly round the dining-room. He then approached the guests, and said: “Eat, drink, amuse yourselves to-day; to-morrow you die.”[XXXIV_32]
Greece, and Rome in particular, adopted this lugubrious emblem of the rapid flight of time and pleasure. This sepulchral image hurried them on in the enjoyment of the present: it never revealed to paganism a “hope full of immortality.”[XXXIV_33]
XXXV.
A ROMAN SUPPER.
Two lustres had passed since the world obeyed Domitius Nero, son of Agrippina. The Romans, a herd of vile slaves, docile adulators of the infamous Cæsar, had already celebrated nine anniversaries of his happy accession to the empire, and the Flamen of Jupiter solemnly thanked the gods at each of these epochs for all the benefits that the well-beloved monarch had unceasingly lavished on the earth.
Few princes, it is true, ever equalled Nero. He and his mother had poisoned Junius Silanus, the pro-consul of Asia; subsequently the young emperor made away with Agrippina, and the senate applauded that horrible crime, which was only the prelude to outrageous enterprises which astonish the historian who narrates them.
The Flamen was, indeed, bound to offer up solemn thanksgivings to Jupiter for having hitherto restrained the crowned monster from the commission of evil which afterwards marked his flagitious career.
It was the 64th year of the Christian era. The emperor had passed some time at Naples, whence it was thought he would go into Greece; but suddenly changing his project, he returned to the capital of the world, to prepare, it was said, a spectacle of unheard-of splendour, and such as Nero alone could conceive.
One of his ancient freed-men, Caius Domitius Seba, resolved to celebrate the return to Rome, and the tenth anniversary of the reign of his master, who was now become his patron and friend. That man possessed immense riches, a formidable credit at court, and an insolence which had struck so much terror into the souls of the proudest families of the empire, that they had long since humbled themselves before him.
So that it was no sooner whispered among the Roman aristocracy that the magnificent Seba intended to give a banquet, than one and all became anxious to be numbered with the guests of Cæsar’s favourite.
However, days past, the time for the nocturnal festival approached, and the Invitor had not made his appearance.
Among the Hebrews, nothing was more simple and unsophisticated than an invitation to dinner;[XXXV_1] but, with the Romans, etiquette required that the amphitryon should send one of his servants to each person who was to participate in his pompous hospitality. This servant, who was generally a freed-man, went from house to house, and indicated, with exquisite politeness, the day and precise hour of the banquet.[XXXV_2]
Seba’s Invitor was at last announced to the two consuls of the year, Lecanius Bassus and Licinius Crassus, who accepted with tender gratitude the distinguished honour which the enfranchised slave deigned to confer upon them.
After them the same favour was received with the same gratitude by the Agrippas, the Ancuses, the Cossuses, the Drususes, and all those who were the most noble, powerful, and proud in Rome.
The next day, about two o’clock in the afternoon (the repast was to begin at six o’clock), an unusual movement reigned in the Palatine baths, and those of Daphnis, near the Sacred Way. The mediastini kept up a steady fire under the coppers; the capsarii folded with care the clothes of the bathers; the unguentarii sold their oils and unguents; and the fricatores, armed with the strigil—a sort of wooden, iron, or horn spoon—rubbed and scraped the skin before the tractatores came gently to manipulate the joints, and skilfully shampoo the body, which gained by this operation more elasticity and suppleness.[XXXV_3]
The upper classes of the Romans never sat down to table until they had undergone all these preliminaries of minute cleanliness.[XXXV_4]
The future guests return home, after the bath, to employ the skill of the barbers (tonsores), who are in waiting to give more grace to the hair, and remove, with the aid of tweezers and pumice, the first silvery indications of the lapse of years, which, though incessantly effaced, still re-appeared.[XXXV_5]
A more serious occupation succeeded. Epicureans should never neglect their teeth—particularly at the approach of a banquet. Nor did the ingenious gastronomy of the first century of our era neglect to invent tooth-powder, which cleaned the enamel without injuring it, and fortified the gums—those fortresses of mastication. Some persons made use of substances which no one would adopt in the present day, because our delicacy revolts against them.[XXXV_6] But preparations less offensive were employed, and men of good taste, as well as fashionable ladies, extolled ox-gall, goats’ milk, the ash of stags’ horns, of pigs’ hoofs, and of egg-shells.[XXXV_7]
Thus were the teeth equipped, as the comic Plautus has it;[XXXV_8] or, rather, thus were they prepared to undergo the labour required of them.
Those who had had the misfortune to lose some of those powerful gastrophagic auxiliaries substituted false ones of ivory, which art found means to render absolutely similar to their neighbours. The eye was deceived: what more could be required?[XXXV_9]
But the clepsydræ[XXXV_10] and the celebrated clock of the field of Mars[XXXV_11] announce that it is time to put on the white, light robe, a little longer than the pallium of the Greeks, and to which the Latins have given the names of vestis cœnatoria, vestis triclinaria, vestis convivalis.[XXXV_12] This last part of their toilet finished, the guests set out for the magnificent abode of their host, preceded by a few slaves, and followed by their shadows—those hungry hangers-on of whom mention has already been made, and who strive to obtain, on the road, a smile or a word by dint of cringing obsequiousness.
Arrived at the atrium, the crowd of Roman nobles are conducted into the interior of the house by the parasites of Seba. The proud freed-man disturbed himself for nobody; but, like the opulent Greeks, whom he aped, he left to these ignoble familiars the care of replacing him in the honours of his palace.[XXXV_13]
They enter an immense hall, decorated with unheard-of luxury, lighted by lustres,[XXXV_14] and round which are several ranks of seats, not unlike the folding-stools and arm-chairs we meet with in the present day in the most elegant boudoirs.[XXXV_15] The guests seat themselves, and anon Egyptian slaves approach with perfumed snow-water, which flows from golden vases of the most graceful forms, and cools the hands of senators and Roman knights,[XXXV_16] whilst other servants disincumber them of their patrician shoes, the end of which represents a crescent.[XXXV_17] The feet then received a similar ablution, and fresh slaves, skilful orthopœdists, accomplish in a twinkling the delicate toilet of these extremities,[XXXV_18] and imprison them again in elegant and commodious sandals, fastened by ribands which cross on the top.[XXXV_19]
Here and there a few persons are remarked who still wear their togas, having doubtless forgotten to substitute the banqueting dress. So soon as the major-domo perceives them he makes a sign to some youths clothed in white tunics, who hasten to present to each of these guests a synthesis, or short woollen vestment of different colours,[XXXV_20] which envelopes the whole body, but leaves the shoulders and breast uncovered if the wearer desire it.[XXXV_21]
These indispensable preliminaries being terminated, the seats disappeared, and the guests stood waiting for the freed-man, Seba, who speedily entered accompanied by the two consuls, for whom places of honour had been reserved on couches beside their pompous amphitryon. The latter deigned to address a few words of welcome to his noble company, and each one stretched himself on his couch of gold and purple. The fourth couch was given up to the parasites and shadows.[XXXV_22]
Meanwhile, slaves were burning precious perfumes in golden vases (acerræ), and young children were pouring on the hair of the guests odoriferous essences, which filled the banqueting hall with balmy fragrance. Rome had borrowed this custom from the east.[XXXV_23]
The golden panelling of the hall shone with dazzling brightness as it reflected a torrent of light from the crystal candelabra,[XXXV_24] and the melodious sounds of the hydraulic organ[XXXV_25] announced the commencement of the banquet.[XXXV_26]
At this signal, servants, richly dressed, place within the circle formed by the couches lemon-wood tables of inestimable price,[XXXV_27] which they immediately cover with a rich tissue of gold and silk. That done, sylph-like hands spread them over with a profusion of the rarest flowers and rose leaves.[XXXV_28]
Musicians (symphoniaci) then occupy a kind of orchestra or platform, raised at one of the extremities of the hall,[XXXV_29] among whom the flute and harp players are to be particularly remarked.[XXXV_30] The former constitute, among the Romans, a special body dubbed with the name of College, and they have the exclusive right to attend banquets and enliven the pomp of ceremonies.[XXXV_31]
These musicians execute a slow, dulcet melody while the slaves are placing on the tables the statues of some of the principal gods,[XXXV_32] together with that of the divine Nero, whom a pusillanimous flattery ranks already with the immortals. At this moment they also arrange here and there the salt-cellars,[XXXV_33] while the more meditative of the guests invoke Jupiter, before they give themselves up to the pleasures of the feast.[XXXV_34] Hardly is this short prayer finished when joyous cup-bearers distribute charming little crystal cups,[XXXV_35] which Æthiopian slaves[XXXV_36] fill to the brim with a generous, honeyed wine, drawn, in the first instance, from those large pitchers which the Greeks have named amphoræ.
Some drops of the exhilarating liquid are offered to the Lares (household gods), by sprinkling it in their honour on the floor and the table.[XXXV_37] This pious libation precedes the entrance of the first course (antecœna),[XXXV_38] composed of the lightest and least succulent kinds of viands, by means of which a generous host stimulates the appetites of his guests, as a preparative for brilliant exploits.[XXXV_39]
Lettuces, olives, pomegranates, Damascus plums,[XXXV_40] tastefully arranged on silver dishes,[XXXV_41] serve to encircle dormice, prepared with honey and poppy juice,[XXXV_42] forcemeat balls of crab, lobster, or cray-fish, prepared with pepper, cummin, and benzoin root.[XXXV_43] A little further, champignon and egg sausages, prepared with garum,[XXXV_44] are placed by the side of pheasant sausages, a delicious mixture of the fat of that bird, chopped very small, and mixed with pepper, gravy, and sweet sun-made wine, to which a small quantity of hydrogarum is added.[XXXV_45] Tempting as these delicate viands may be, the practised epicureans seem to have a decided preference for peacocks’ eggs, which they open with spoons. These eggs, a master-piece of the culinary artist, who presides over Seba’s stoves, are composed of a fine perfumed paste, and contain, each one, a fat, roasted, ortolan surrounded with yolk of egg, and seasoned with pepper.[XXXV_46]
We will not go through the list of all the dishes which composed the antecœna. The nomenclature was offered, according to custom, to the guests of the rich freed-man, but the reader would doubtless think it a little tiresome. We must, however, inform him, that the true gastronomists—and there were many at that banquet—did no more than give note of preparation to their appetite, by plying it with pickled radishes,[XXXV_47] some few grasshoppers of a particular species, fried with garum,[XXXV_48] grey peas, and olives fresh from their brine.[XXXV_49]
DESCRIPTION OF [PLATE No. XXX.]
No. 1. A Greek Etruscan vase, or amphora, of terra cotta, for wine and water, commonly placed on the dinner table.—Hamilton.
No. 2. A Greek terra cotta vase, for a particular wine.—Caylus.
No. 3. Etruscan terra cotta vase, to hold wine on the table.—Caylus.
No. 4. A glass amphora, or vase, of large dimensions, for Falernian wine.
All found at Herculaneum.—Saint-Non.
The first course was removed to the sound of music.[XXXV_50] Now came chased silver cups, much larger than those of crystal[XXXV_51]—no doubt because thirst is excited by drinking. Amphoræ of a secular wine were ranged by the major-domo on the mosaic flooring of the hall, at some distance from the triclinium, and they proceeded, by the invitation of the consuls, to the choice of the symposiarch (or master of the banquet), upon whom devolved the duty of regulating how often any person was to drink, and of preventing the guests, in the best manner he could, from yielding too easily to bacchic provocations, which commonly led to unseemly gaiety and the loss of reason.[XXXV_52]
This sort magiric magistracy was obtained by lot, or the unanimous call for a personage worthy of such a distinction.[XXXV_53] That memorable evening every voice named the senator Drusillus, one of the most determined drinkers of the Roman aristocracy. Drusillus smiled, snapped his fingers,[XXXV_54] and, by the order of his master, thus intimated, a slave, who was standing behind him, filled a golden crater[C] with wine, and presented it to the symposiarch.
Thereupon, the latter, slightly raising his head from the downy cushions on which it rested, and supporting it from the left elbow,[XXXV_55] makes a graceful bow to the amphitryon, the consuls, and the rest of the assembly. Then, with a stentorian voice: “Slaves,” he cried, “bring wreaths of flowers.[XXXV_56] Fugitive images of the spring and of pleasure, they shall bind our brows.[XXXV_57] At the same time let garlands adorn our craters, in which the cherished liquor of the son of Semele sparkles;[XXXV_58] and let us bestow no thought, during the fleet joys of the banquet, on the uncertain and fatal hour when Atropos shall pronounce our doom.”
This speech, slightly impregnated with the epicurean philosophy so much in fashion during the reign of Nero, had at least the merit of a praiseworthy conciseness. Nor did it fail to attract applause from the auditors, whose brows and cups were speedily adorned with wreaths of roses, which young boys, clothed in white tunics, arranged with marvellous art.
The slight rustling of the flowers was soon drowned by the shrill noise of the trumpets which announced the second course. A flattering buzz welcomed this profusion of viands, which encumbered the tables, and well-nigh crushed them with their weight. There were the peacock,[XXXV_59] the duck, whose breast and head are so much coveted; capons’ livers,[XXXV_60] peppered becaficoes,[XXXV_61] grouse, the turtle-dove, the phenicopter,[XXXV_62] and an infinite number of rare birds, the costly tribute that Europe, Asia, and Africa, exchanged against the gold of the prodigal Seba. Other gold and silver dishes contained these inestimable fishes which Roman luxury brought so much into fashion; the scarus, or parrot fish, sturgeons, turbots, mullets, and those numerous inhabitants of every sea with which the tanks were stocked, to supply the kitchen of the freed-slave.
Moreover, there were wild boars à la Troyenne,[XXXV_63] ranged in the centre of the table, in silver basins of a prodigious value; stuffed pigs, quarters of stag and roebuck, loins of beef, kidneys surrounded with African figs,[XXXV_64] sows’ paps prepared with milk,[XXXV_65] sows’ flank,[XXXV_66] and some pieces of Gallic bacon,[XXXV_67] which certain gluttons loved to associate with a piece of succulent venison.
While the carvers were cutting up the meats with incredible address, to the sound of a light but animated music, Numidian slaves filled the cups from small leathern bottles with old Greek wine,[XXXV_68] a servant carried bread round the tables in a silver basket,[XXXV_69] and others ventilated the apartment,[XXXV_70] or offered the guests warm and iced water.[XXXV_71]
In every direction trays circulated, covered with divers kinds of meats,[XXXV_72] which they took care to humect with peppered garum,[XXXV_73] that strange condiment, which the freed-slave procured from Spain at a price equal to its weight in gold.
Suddenly the symposiarch commands silence: the musicians obey—the slaves are motionless.
“Let us drain our cups,” said he, “in honour of Cæsar. Let us celebrate the tenth anniversary of his glorious reign, and his happy return to the metropolis of the world. Let us drink, senators and knights, as many craters as there are letters in the cherished name of the emperor.”[XXXV_74]
Sense and reason must have succumbed, had the patrician assembly toasted Caius Lucius Domitius Nero: it would have been constructive treason not to empty twenty-three cups; but they limited themselves to four, which represented the last of these names.
Joy unrestrained floated with the fumy wine, furnished from large
DESCRIPTION OF [PLATE No. XXXI.]
No. 1. Curious silver dish, with Etruscan letters engraved around the head of Medusa. Petronius speaks of two silver dishes, upon which were engraved the name of Trimalcion, and the weight of each dish.—Athen.; Stuart.
Nos. 2 and 3. Silver dishes.—Gorrie, “Etruscan Mus.”
glass amphoræ, on which were these words: “Falernian wine of a hundred leaves, made under the consulship of Opimius.”[XXXV_75] [D] The consuls and the Roman nobles almost forgot, in the voluptuousness of the splendid repast, that the executioner of Britannicus and Burrhus, the crowned tiger, was doubtless thinking at that very moment of taking some of the heads then present. A funereal spectacle soon aroused their dormant fears.
An officer of the palace presented himself at the door of the banqueting hall. He advanced slowly, followed by two slaves, who laid on the table an object covered with a winding-sheet. “Pressing occupations,” said the imperial messenger, “prevent Cæsar from sharing with you the hospitality of Seba; but he thinks of you, and sends you a testimony of his remembrance.”
“Long live Cæsar!” cry the consuls, the freed-slave, and some few trembling voices. The officer retires. The veil which shrouds Nero’s present from every eye is removed, and all perceive a silver skeleton, of terrifying truthfulness, and which, by its admirable mechanism, proclaims artist to be one of those Greeks who have come to Rome to seek fortune and celebrity.[XXXV_76]
This episode engrossed the thoughts of the greater part of the guests, and the old senator, Lucius Vafra, could not help saying, with a sigh, to his neighbour, Virginius Rufus, one of the consuls of the preceding year: “Fear the Greeks: fear this disastrous present!”[XXXV_77]
But the hot wine which was being served,[XXXV_78] and the healths which succeeded without interruption, drove the sinistrous presage from their minds; and, moreover, the present of the emperor was nowise contrary to the manners of the epoch, and the thought of death would only have enlivened the repast, if it had been presented by any other than Nero.
At first healths were drunk in the Greek fashion,—that is, beginning by the most distinguished personages, he who drank bowed and said: “I wish you every kind of prosperity;” or simply: “I salute you.” In pronouncing these words, he who drank the health took only a part of the wine contained in the cup, and sent the remainder to the guest he had just designated.[XXXV_79]
Many craters were then emptied in honour of the mistress of the house (dominæ); neither were the illustrious dead nor absent friends forgotten. The formula was nearly the same for all: “To your healths,” said the symposiarch, “to our own, to that also of the friend whom we cherish.”[XXXV_80]
Sometimes Drusillus, still fascinated with that dulcet poetry of the Greeks with which, when young, he had stored his mind, would take up the harmonious cadences of Horace, and thus personate, as it were, those divine chanters of Attica who have immortalised themselves by celebrating love, wine, and pleasure.
One of his extempore strains, while sipping the sparkling liquor from his cup, was:—
This dream of bliss maintain, prolong these happy hours,
O, all-enchanting wines! perfumed with flowers
Which Cos and Cyprus rear;
Let nothing ever change this soul-felt, rich delight;
For I would say, when parting for the realms of night,
I never knew a tear.
This sensual philosophy found numberless echoes in that vainglorious Rome, who exhausted her disdain, outrage, and punishments on the (so called) new fantastic folly that the Nazarenes were endeavouring to introduce. A few years more, and their doctrine will subjugate the universe!
Time passed rapidly, and the meats, divided into equal portions, were served to the guests, who frequently did not touch them, but gave their share to their servants, or sent it home.[XXXV_81]
So soon as the major-domo perceived that appetite began to flag, he ordered the whole to be cleared, and the dessert, spread on ivory tables,[XXXV_82] to be substituted for the more substantial comestibles, with which the guests were satiated.
Exquisite drinks, artificial wines, delicate and light aliments,[XXXV_83] still came to titillate the palate and the burthened stomach—pears, apples, walnuts, dried-figs, grapes;[XXXV_84] a thousand different kinds of raw, cooked, and preserved fruits; tarts, cakes, and those incredible delicacies which the Latins designated by the collective generic term bellaria, wooed the epicurean—if we may be allowed the expression—with their mild, material, dangerous, and irresistible eloquence.
Some one proposed to replace the half-faded flowers by Egyptian wreaths, and every brow was soon bound with garlands of roses and myrtle, interspersed with little birds, which, by their fluttering and chirping, soon restored the drowsy company to that animation which seemed to wane.[XXXV_85]
Then began the amusements of the evening.
A troop of strolling players were admired for their agility and suppleness. Some rolled round a cord like a wheel which turns on its axle; they hung by the neck, by one foot, and varied these perilous exercises in a thousand different ways. Others slid down a cord, lying on the stomach, with their arms and legs extended. Some revolved as they ran along a descending cord. Some, in a word, performed feats of strength and address on the horizontal rope which were truly incomprehensible, and at an elevation from the flooring which would have rendered a fall fatal.[XXXV_86]
To these acrobats succeeded prestigiators, who appeared to receive a peculiar degree of attention. One placed under cups a certain number of shells, dry peas, or little balls, and he caused them to disappear and re-appear at will.[XXXV_87] The spectators strained their eyes without being able to comprehend anything. Another of these mountebanks wrote or read very distinctly while whirling rapidly round.[XXXV_88] Some vomited flames from the mouth, or walked, head downwards, on their hands, and beat with their feet the movements of the most agile dancers.[XXXV_89] Then a woman appeared, holding in her hand twelve bronze hoops, with several little rings of the same metal, which rolled round them. She danced gracefully, throwing and successively catching the twelve hoops, without ever allowing any of the rings to fall.[XXXV_90] After that, another juggler rushed, with his breast uncovered, into the midst of a forest of naked swords. Every one thought him to be covered with wounds, but he re-appeared, with a smile on his countenance, whole and sound.[XXXV_91]
These feats were followed by an interlude, in which the parts were amusingly sustained by marionettes. The Greeks knew this childish pastime,[XXXV_92] and Rome did not disdain it.[XXXV_93] These little bronze and ivory figures[XXXV_94] played some comic scenes tolerably well, and obtained the applauses of grave senators, who more than once forgot their senility as they contemplated the grotesque pantomime.
The only thing now wanting to render Seba’s supper a worthy specimen of nocturnal Roman feasts was, to produce before the guests one of those spectacles which outrage morals and humanity. Nero’s freed-man had been too well tutored to refuse them this diversion. Young Syrians,[XXXV_95] or bewitching Spanish girls,[XXXV_96] went through lascivious dances,[XXXV_97] which raised no blush on the brow of rigid magistrates, who forgot, in the abode of the vile slave, the respect due to their age and dignity.
After the voluptuous scenes of the lewd Celtiberians, blood was required: for they seem to have been formed by nature to take a strange delight in sudden contrasts. Ten couples of gladiators, armed with swords and bucklers, occupied a space assigned to them, and ten horrible duels recreated the attentive assembly. For a long time nothing was heard but the clash of arms; but the thirst for conquest animated those ferocious combatants, and they rushed with loud cries on one another. Blood flowed on all sides; the couches were dyed with it, and the white robes of the guests were soon spotted. Some of the combatants fell, and the rattles announced approaching death; others preserved, in their last struggle, a funereal silence, or endeavoured to fix their teeth in the flesh of their enemies standing erect beside them.[XXXV_98] The spectators, stupified with wine and good cheer, contemplated this carnage with cold impassibility; they only roused from their torpor when one of those men, happening to trip against a table, struck his head on the ivory, and his antagonist, prompt as lightning, plunged his sword into the throat of his foe, whence torrents of black, reeking blood inundated the polished ivory, and flowed in long streams among the fruits, cups, and flowers.
The deed was applauded; servants washed the tables and the floor with perfumed water, and these stirring scenes were soon forgotten. A last cup was drunk to the good genius,[XXXV_99] whose protection they invoked before returning home.
Meantime a stifling atmosphere pervades every part of the hall, and a hollow noise, rumbling in the distance, excites at intervals in the minds of the guests a sort of undefinable apprehension—the ordinary presage of an unknown but imminent catastrophe. The consuls raise themselves on their couches and listen; their host endeavours to calm their fears; but at this moment a slave, panting for breath, rushes towards Seba, and pronounces a few inarticulate words. “Fire!” cries the anguished freed-man. “Where is the fire?” inquire all the terrified guests, who have heard but this one sinistrous word. “Everywhere!” replies the slave; “it has burst forth simultaneously in every part of the city!” No one waits to hear more. Consuls, senators, knights, musicians, and servants, jostle one another; and, abandoning those who fall, arrive pell-mell at the atrium. The porter still chained, trembles at his post; the flames already envelop the sumptuous edifice—the entire street is one vast brazier! Rome burns, and will soon be a heap of ruins and ashes! Flight is impossible—the flames intercept every issue! * * * Nero has taken his measures well.
We will not attempt to depict the mute but terrible despair of those proud patricians, at bay in the midst of an ocean of fire, in which they are fated ere long to perish. The wreaths of flowers which bind their brows are already parched by the scorching breath of those roaring flames, which engulf and consume everything as they sweep along. A thick smoke begrimes the lustrous robes, whose graceful folds erewhile displayed the exquisite urbanity of Seba’s guests, and which now exhibit only a sad emblem of festive joys. The dread of death, and I know not what strange anguish at this all-important moment, blanch those human faces, to which the choicest wines of Greece and Italy had just given a hue of purple. These men feel—instinct tells them—that life is theirs no longer, and they have not the courage to die!
The opulent freed-man calls to his slaves, and promises them their liberty if they consent to risk their lives in an attempt to save his. But the vile herd is already dispersed; the porter alone remains—for no one has thought to liberate him—and he, in his impotent fury, replies by insulting clamours to the cowardly supplications of his quondam master.
This horrible scene soon changed by the very action of that torrent of fire which was pursuing its devastating course; and the next day, when Aurora appeared, a heap of ruins was all that remained of the odious Seba’s magnificent palace.
The two consuls and some of the senators were fortunate enough to escape the common danger. Less besotted, perhaps, by the wine and good cheer, and finding in despair that incredible energy which sometimes operates the same prodigies as courage, they rushed through the flames, and gained the country, or those obscure portions of the city which the son of Agrippina had apparently forgotten.
Thus it was that Lucius Domitius Nero celebrated the tenth anniversary of his glorious reign. While the fire was rolling on with its resistless flood of flame from temples to palaces, and from the Circus to the Pantheon, the young, poetic Cæsar, his brow bound with laurel, and holding in his hands a golden lyre, viewed from the top of a tower—where he was surrounded by a troop of histrions and buffoons—the conflagration he had just kindled.
And while the imperial Apollo sang some melancholy verses on the fatal destiny of the antique city of Troy, his ignoble courtiers cried with enthusiasm: “May the Gods preserve Nero, their august son, and the delight of the human race!”
Such was the last gorgeous feast at which the magiric genius presided in that Rome which Romulus had founded, and which engulfed the treasures and wonders of the world. Destroyed by the imperial incendiary, it arose from its ashes with increased beauty and voluptuousness; and the wild joy of its new banquets caused the thoughtless queen of nations quickly to forget the disasters of the past, and the sinistrous presages of the future.
