Scarcely had the sceptre waved when the eastern side of the immense banquet hall was opened by some unseen agency, and an archway of vast proportions, without rent or flaw, was formed, through which the loose-robed slaves were seen driving a brazen elephant, on whose back was placed the huge abacus on which the banquet was served. This abacus, of solid silver, had admirable contrivances for the preservation of the warmth and flavor of every dish; and the whole repast "from the egg to the apple," including three courses, was served upon it. The number and nature of the dishes became at a glance known to the guests, for over each dish the silver or golden likeness of the fish, bird, or beast which supplied it was supported upon a very thin wire, so colored as to be invisible in lamplight. Here was the brazen image of the flamingo; there the golden plumage of the guinea-hen, the famous Afra avis, of the Romans, was outspread without any visible support in air. At another part the star-eyed tail of the peacock was extended fan-like, while a turtle and a sturgeon seemed to swim on either side of it. Every bird, fish, and beast held in repute by the Roman gourmands was represented floating or flying over this monster server. The slaves, who pushed it on golden rollers into the triclinium, danced as they advanced to the music of the flute, the harp, and other instruments. At the sound of a gong, struck by the head steward, "the distributor of seats" led the guests to the couches on which they were to recline. Having resigned their boots, or slippers, to the slaves appointed to receive them, they leaned back, supporting themselves on their left elbows on the soft couches covered with purple, embroidered with gold, and bearing the imperial arms. Many of the females preferred to sit, and for them suitable seats were provided. At another sound of the gong twenty slaves, in purple tunics and white aprons sustained on black cinctures, moved into the hall, with motions of head and foot and hands to suit the music, and removed the covers under which were placed the materials for the feast. The same movements took place before and after each of the courses. As soon as the covers for the second course were taken off, the scissores or carvers cut the solid dishes and served the various meats according as the servants in waiting on the guests presented the plates. To show the extent of refined luxury to which the old Romans of the republic and empire carried things, it may be observed that the carvers so managed while cutting the dishes as to keep time with the knives to the music. In fact, the art of carving was a profession in Rome.
The writer of this hurriedly sketched tale may pause for a little here to assure the indulgent reader that he has made it a rule in the descriptions, in the substantial facts of the narrative, and in the lives of the leading characters to make imagination wholly the handmaid of truth. He is sure that in the scenes he endeavors to paint he is using the colors supplied him by pagan and Christian writers of the times. He might point specially to Polybius, Lampridius, and Plutarch as vouchers for his accuracy in describing a Roman banquet in the last ages of the republic and the first of the empire.
When the third course was over, the elephant and abacus were rolled with the same accompaniment of music and dance from the room. Then began the symposium, or drinking-feast. As the repositorium bearing the goblets and wines was introduced, the ceiling or the triclinium seemed suddenly as if by magic to disappear, and an immense stage with gorgeous scenery was lowered into the apartment. As it quietly and slowly descended, the voices were heard singing as if from heaven:
"Strike the tympan, beat the drum!
Down from heaven we come.
Jupiter nodded—it must be so—
Down, down to earth below,
To greet the God, Domitian!
"Domitian is Jove upon earth we know,
Jupiter wills it-it must be so—
So, we'll beat our shields and our trumpets blow,
We'll launch the spear and we'll draw the bow.
And we'll dance 'mid the flying missiles, O!
Before the God, Domitian!
"We'll play as we play on Olympus' height,
Where Jupiter grasps the thunder's might
And hurls to earth its lances bright,
And sends from his throne the broad daylight—
We'll dance as we dance on Olympus' height,
Before the God, Domitian!"
By the time these lines were ended the stage had taken a stationary position about six feet from the ground, so that every guest from his bench or couch could have a full view of the performance. The first thing that struck the eye was a group of figures, male and female, dressed in various styles to represent the immortals. Here was Apollo with his lyre and halo; there was Diana in her huntress garb. Mercury, with his wand and winged sandals, was flying over the helmeted head of Minerva; while Vulcan, with the red glow of the furnace on his face, was, with the assistance of the Cyclops' hammers, forging thunderbolts for Jove. In another part the rustic Pan, with his goat-ears and oaten pipe, was playing, while the naiads and fauns in cloud-like Ionic tunics kept dancing as they fled from the pursuing satyrs.
Suddenly the scenery is shifted and the stage is filled with narrow-pointed, straight and double-edged swords fixed perpendicularly with the blades upward; while a number of persons in close-fitting garments dance alternately on their feet and hands, in the execution of which they somersault over the sharp weapons. Again, they time with martial tread to the quick measure of the Pyrrhic dance, the accompaniment to which was the rattle of their flying spears on the bronze shields they bore. The scene is again changed. The lamps are suddenly put out; and a vast chamber with vaulted roof, through which a subterranean damp oozes, is dimly seen by the light of a muffled lamp, which only helps to make "the darkness visible." [Footnote 117]
[Footnote 117: Tillemont and other historians relate this substantially in the same way.]
Along the sides, which are draped in sable cloth, are ranged a number of coffins equal to the number of guests, each of whom reads his own name in fiery letters shining out upon one or other of them from the surrounding gloom; while demons, with snake-like locks and flame-like garments and black faces, ran in horrible frenzy about, shrieking out the names of the principal senators present. And a deep, sonorous voice, which seemed to rise out of the earth, pronounced the following:
"Hail, monarch of monarchs! whose mighty sway
The nations and tribes of the earth obey,
From the rising sun to the setting day!
"From the highest Alp to the island cove,
Thy power is felt like the power of Jove
When Olympus shakes at his frown above.
"The Celtic shout does not pierce the sky,
The Parthian arrows pause as they fly,
When thy name is heard 'mid the battle's cry.
"When heard from the height of Caucasian snow,
The beard-like woods on its chin bend low,
And the rivers cease down its cheeks to flow.
"When breathed abroad o'er the ocean waves,
The sea-monsters sink to the rocky caves,
Where, continents under, they scoop their graves.
"When uttered by spirits among the clouds,
They gather like flocks into frightened crowds,
And bind up the tempest in sable shrouds.
"The word of thy mouth is the simoom's breath,
Thy sceptre's wave is the scythe of death
Which sweeps all life to the domes beneath.
"Then how can aught mortal in earth or air,
The might or the power of thy sceptre dare
With the crown or a crucified Jew compare?
Domitian, Domitian! Beware, beware!"
As the last verse was being chanted, the stage, the voice, and awful chamber began slowly to ascend, until the last words seemed to fall from the sky!