On the summits of the hills, in the valleys, even under the pellucid water of the marge, are yet remaining the traces of the magnificence which sprang at the Imperial nod to adorn this lovely island, in the period when the Caesars sought it as a secluded residence. The traces are but small of the much that is known to have once been; but, as the eye roves from one elevation to another, over the luxuriant gardens, vineyards, and orange plantations which carpet the valleys and clothe the terraced slopes, we can picture to our imaginations the palaces and groves of Imperial luxury, and, if tradition speak truth, of Imperial vice.
CHAPTER II.
A few weeks subsequent to the last related circumstances of our story, Domitius Afer, with nothing better to occupy his time, on a certain afternoon, indulged an inclination for gentle exercise and solitary reflection, and took his meditative way up the gradual ascent which led to the eastern cliffs of the island of Capreae. The highest elevation at this end of the island is the extreme north-eastern promontory. Thereon stood an extensive villa of the Emperor, which formed, for the most part, his favourite residence. The suspicious nature of Tiberius had not deemed its erection complete and satisfactory until it had been surrounded by what an ordinary observer might have deemed the superfluity of a strong fortification. It stood there in all the glory of its new, gleaming, white masonry—a pile wellnigh impregnable to anything but starvation, surveying island and sea and mainland for leagues, with the waves roaring a thousand feet below around the base of the perpendicular cliffs. This residence bore the name of the villa of Jove, and, although it claimed preference, on account of the magnificent prospect which it enjoyed, together with the natural strength of its position, it was only one of some dozen which had arisen at the Emperor’s bidding, or were building, in various parts of the island, each of them named after a deity. Thus the ruler of the world was enabled to change his abode according to his whim, or oftener, perhaps, to the workings of his subtle, mistrustful spirit.
Leaving this favoured retreat of the Emperor on his left hand, the knight went some distance further along the brow of the cliffs, and wrapping his cloak closer around him, he sat down in a nook of the limestone cliffs in order to indulge [pg 134]more fully in a fit of abstraction. The scene, which was displayed before him, has excited the raptures of gazers of all ages. But it was the better fortune of those of antiquity to be able to see it at its brightest, when its natural loveliness was embellished by the citizens of an empire in the fulness of its power and wealth, and ere a most melancholy-famous eruption of nature had cruelly defaced it for ever.
So precipitous were the cliffs upon which the feet of the Roman knight rested, that a stone, flung from beside him, would have dropped plumb into the waters below. Thence, from this point of vantage, the delighted eye drank in the matchless panorama which circled before it under the clearest of skies.
Far on the extreme left, out of the blue waters, glimmered the green isle of Aenaria, some sixteen miles away, together with the low-lying islet of Prochyta. Scarcely severed from the latter, rose the famous promontory of Misenum, harbouring an Imperial fleet, and crowned by a Lucullan villa, ere long the death-scene of its Imperial owner. Baiae nestled close by, on the lovely inlet which dented the palace-covered shore. After which Puteoli, the queen of commerce, the focus of the foreign-going galleys—one of the most frequented doors of Rome, with its mole, and its docks, and busy quays. Then Neapolis, in the centre of the semicircle, and, still nigher round the curving shore, the vine-clad slopes of high Vesuvius, with ill-fated Herculaneum and Pompeii resting at its foot, on the brim of the sparkling waters. Surrentum, in the green nook of its sheltering hills, lay hid, but its cape, reaching out to within three miles of our island, forms the southern horn of the crescent. The peaceful mountain in the midst, so luxuriant with verdure, as yet gave no sign of the blot of awful desolation with which it was about to mar for posterity the loveliest prospect in nature. Not as now, but from end to end, a continuous belt of buildings circumscribed the bay; for this enchanting strand was the favoured region for the retirement and residence of the wealthy. Villa upon villa, in thick profusion, sustained the line between village and town, until it seemed as if it were an unbroken city which gleamed so white along the circuit of the lustrous Campanian shore. Turning again to the right hand was expanded the less lovely [pg 135]Gulf of Paestum, with the city of the roses itself lying on its edge, far away on the opposite side. Behind the knight lay the valley of Capreae, rich and green, and shut in by a mountain barrier from the other half of the island, which was a high table-land sloping towards the north-west. Conical hills, taurubulae, as they were called, rose from this valley on either hand, crowned with buildings and clothed with foliage; whilst in the midst, which was the neck of the island, nestled a little town. Yet even this part, the lowest point, and saddle-seat, as it were, was high above the sea; and steep descents, to the north and south, led down on either coast to the only two practicable landings the precipitous shores possessed. Thus it may be seen how secluded and safe from intrusion this isolated spot of only eleven miles in circumference could be maintained. Scarcely could a man, had he the choice of the world, pitch upon such another place, where he could revel so peacefully in the beauties which nature had so lavishly clustered around, under a climate so equable and genial, as to render mere existence delicious.
But the sensations caused by such a prospect are rather for the breast of the stranger of a northern clime than for our Roman Afer, for whom life-long familiarity with the scenes described had blunted his appreciation of their beauty. Although his glance appeared to be earnestly fixed upon the opposing shore across the strait, his eyes retained that far-away expression which is produced by absorbing thought. There was sufficient within the narrow limits of the island at his back to occupy his thoughts, as it did those of the whole political world. For, in the palaces which gleamed on the summits of the hills or amid the groves of that insular retreat, were the persons of the despot himself, whose touch ruled the world; of the all-powerful, ambitious Prefect, who, as it was darkly hinted, ruled his master—as well as others of blood royal, whose youth and close affinity with Caesar rendered them the objects of a too jealous care.
But to these the mind of the knight did not at present pay any heed. His thoughts were running back to the villa on the Janiculum overlooking Rome, and were recalling the circumstances recorded in a previous chapter. The strong interest displayed by his uncle in the young Centurion gave [pg 136]him many a moment of uneasy mistrust. Not willing to allow the smallest communication to pass unobserved, if his jealous watchfulness could avoid it, he had stolen after the new-made friends towards the porch, and had there overheard the parting words of the aged host to his guest: ‘I shall await your return in impatience, for I long to make a son of you.’ They rang in his ears with discomforting freshness, and his face grew darker the more he pondered on them. They had been made in a generous impulse of courtesy and gratitude, he argued. It was absurd to take them literally, even though the meddlesome Pretorian had proved to be the son of an old playmate. Thus the knight proceeded, as he had often done before, in trying to soothe himself; but the logic of his arguments failed to entirely satisfy his apprehensive nature.