‘Ah!’ said Masthlion, somewhat disheartened by these bluff, energetic words, which were delivered with a readiness and confidence, as if expressing a generally received opinion; ‘then have you in Rome a poet by name Balbus?’
‘A poet named Balbus!’ repeated the host, with a comical look; ‘faith, but poetry is a trade I never meddled with, and I am on the wrong side of the Aventine, where sailors and traders swarm, and not poets. I doubt not, worthy Masthlion, that poets abound in Rome, for Rome is a very large place, I warrant you. But you must go and seek them elsewhere. What, gentlemen! does any one know of a poet named Balbus in Rome?’ cried he abruptly, putting his head inside of a room tolerably well filled with drinkers.
A laugh arose at the question. ‘North, south, east, or west?’ cried one.
‘Scarce as gladiators,’ shouted another; ‘the times have starved them.’
‘Nothing can starve them—the poets, I mean,’ answered a thin dry voice, which seemed to quell the merriment for a space, ‘they are as thick as bees in the porticoes and baths of Agrippa. Your Balbus, not being there, landlord, enter the bookshops and you will find as many more, reading their own books, since nobody else will. You will find plenty of Balbi, be assured, but no poets—Horace was the last——’
Laughter drowned the remainder of his speech, and the landlord withdrew his head into the passage, where Masthlion was awaiting.
‘Balbus the poet does not seem to be very well known,’ he said to the potter. ‘But what do these rough swinkers know of these things any more than myself? Nevertheless, he says true, and you might do worse than inquire at the bookshops, the baths and porticoes, where the men of the calamus and inkpot love to air the wit they have scraped together by lamplight in their garrets at home.’
The potter, thereupon, retired with an uneasy feeling of [pg 75]helplessness and hopelessness filling his mind, at least as far as regarded Balbus.
Next morning he sallied forth soon after dawn, determined to make the utmost use of his time. He made an arrangement, by which he was again to have the services of his young guide of the previous evening, feeling that he would thus save himself much time and labour. In about three hours’ time he had walked a long distance. He had passed along the principal streets in the centre of the city. He had gazed at the shops and buildings. He had mounted the Palatine and Capitoline Hills; had viewed many temples, porticoes and mansions, and from a lofty point had surveyed the city, spread below, with delight and admiration. Then, deeming it time to be about his business, he gave the order to proceed to the Pretorian camp.