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X
P. Valerius Corvinus propraetor lectori S.P.D.
Itaque, o benignissime lector,sive benignissima lectrix, omnes epistolas quae ad hanc insolitissimam rem attinerent, colligeram tibique ostendi. Nomina nisi mortuorum ψευδωνύμοις celavi, ne vivorum famae nocerent. Mortuorum res gestas aut bonas aut malas historia cognoscat ; inferos iudices solos nunc timent, nec rumorem invitum. Attamen ego me ipsum nominare haud dubio. Senex quidem sum : tam canus capillis quam securus auctoritate, videlicet et satisfactus ambitione. Cursum honorum pie cucurri, stultitiam meam priorem his litteris denudata libenter accipio et ostendo, ne vos, O parentes romani, suos laedatis. Porro nomen spero meum tibi famam meam commonefacere, ut huius narrationis veritatem confirmaret.
Ignoscite mihi, Quirites, parvum hoc prooemium scripsisse. Reliquum, vobis adfirmo, narratione ipsa explicam.
Nocte intempestive gelida apud Drusillam, ut consentieramus, cenavimus, ad investigationes inter nos divulgandas. Quam evidenter hospita nostra quid magni quaesta erat, sed nos cunctos antea enarrare iussit. Re vera nemo praeter illam res istius familiae domusque pestiferae nisi argumentum describere potuit. Illa enim cunctam historiam exposuit, quam in litteris iamiam tu, lector, legisti. Res iterum non verbatim narrabo — sat eloquentius historiam enodavit ipsa — sed crede mihi nos valde miratos, et pavore et misericordia obmutos esse. Attamen dubium, incertum primo sed magis magisque clarum, cor obsidebat. Adeo singillatim narrabat, ut putarem non e lectione orta esse verba. Quoniam tantam ephemeridem — duas horas narratio sumpsit — graeculam scripsisse haudquaquam crederem. Etsi tot volumina perscripserit, quo nam et quomodo ea celare potuerit ? Porro, qua re Drusilla nobis volumina ostdenere recusavit. Tacebam alios observans ; nescii quid faceremus.
Taciturnitas post narrationem triclinium complevit, quam Decimus subito rupit. Truculenta voce Drusillam ephemeridem producere rogavit, ea plane negavit. Desperate inratus, Decimus patefecit metum Horatiae, quae illud volumen petens non inveni. His verbis eruptis clamor hospites divellit. Servi terrore, Horatia singultim, Quintus stomacho fugit. Decimus cum Drusilla rixatus't, Macro conturbatus pacem conficere petiit. Tacebam etiam. Drusillam et longe et intente intuebar, aliorum paene oblitus sum. Quid velit ? mihimet inquam. Quid in animo habet ? Quid sub ista sapientia, sub ista pulchritudine dulci insidietur ?
Denique e lecto surrexi. Amicos velut senatores ligitiosos vel pueros contumaces compellavi : sistitie ! inquam, debemus non nosmet inimicare. Cum Drusilla solus loquar ; reliqui abeant.
Abnoctantes disceptavimus. Lacrimae ortae sunt, et ira, et maestitia, et dialectica, etenim risus. In fine, eam sapire agnovi. Ἐκείνη νέα Διοτίμα ἢν, ἣ μυρίαν Σωκράτων παιδεῦσαι δυνᾶται. O utinam academiae illius adfuissem ! Africae aut Asiae praefectus essem.
Trita diei hora discessi. Decimum semi-vigilem in via coram ianua exspectantem inveni.
— Domum abeas, aio, mi bone puer. Dormi. Cras, quoniam denique nostra cum philosopha constitui, domum deperdam ut larvam liberarem.
Saeviter interlocutus est : quid dicis ? Quid dixit ? Domumne deperdere ? Quid tamen de larva ? Quo modo Drusilla omnia didicit ?
— O mi care, inquam, frustra temet sollicitas. I domum. Dormi.
— Sed cui credis ? Haud veri similis narratio Drusillae. Horatia adfirmit —
— Pie Romane, inquam interloqens egomet, furere siste. Opus est quiescere. Cras tota res confecta erit. Mei servi te domum ducent.
Postea II stipatores ad Decimum demisit ne operibus crastinis interponeret.
Cum mane experrectus esse (ad auroram edormiveram) copias conscribere coepi. CXX homines congregavi, acies ita posui : X taediferos, ad incendium incipiendum, XC aquarios ad incendium continendum, et XX operas fustigeras ad turbam depellendam.
Vespere sollemniter pompam per vias duxi. Breviter copias contionatus sum, quarum oboedientiae silentioque sat mercedem dedi. Deinde solus domum intravi — postremum. Omnes cellas exploravi, oleum in omnibus libavi. Gynaeconitam in fine investigavi. Paucis momentis inibi moram feci, sed omnia vidi praeparata fuisse. Dum e ianua in viam discessissem, nonnulli servi vix plausum suppressit : adeo rumor domus eis fortitdinem meam auxit. Sine verbo signum dedi ; domum statim accenderunt. Mox flammae aedificium involverunt, caelum urbemque inluminaverunt.
Clamorem audivi. Decimus, qui custodes evaserat, manum amicorum Drusillae servorumque in nos duxit, operae eos repellebant. Iussi eos concedere, Decimum mihi advocavi.
— Quam celeriter, inquit, extinguite ! Debetis ! Drusilla inest !
— Mi bone Decime, aio, necesse est. Scio eam inesse. Vidi. In thalamo in gynaeconite iacet, tranquille, gemmis ornata pretiosissimis, stolam gerens elegantissimam. Numquam illam tam pulchram viderem ; filia mea vix pulchior videbatur suis nuptiis.
— In thalamo ? Quam ob rem dereliquisti ?
— Noli sollicitari : beata est. Omnibus curis vacat.
— Mortuane ?
— Tum vivebat... vixit.
— Debemus illam servare. Fortasse iam vivit !
— Manebimus. Rogus domum consumit. Cras ossia, vel cineres, colligimus — ego tecum — et urnam in terra sacra sepeliemus. Exsequias nolit, nec requirit. Agedum, noli flere ; nox iucunda est.
Rumorem dein servorum operumque audivimus. Multi caelum indicabant quo conspectus terribilis eos tumultuabatur. Magnas super flammas, duo eidola e fumo coalescebant. Haec, mulieris figura humana grandiora, primum incertae speciei, magis magisque formas congruebant, Drusillae et graeculae illius. Momentis in aura cum fumo volvebant, subitum in sese incucurrerunt, dulcissimo in amplexu se iunxerunt. Dum invicto cum gaudio osclabantur, fumus amatrices altos ad deos ferebat.
finis
There was a House in Athens (end)
X
Publius Valerius Corvinus, Propraetor, sends many greetings to his reader
And so, my kind readers, I have collected, and now present to you all the letters pertaining to this most unusual series of events. The names, save those of the dead, I have hidden beneath pseudonyms, lest I harm the reputation of the living. Let history record the deeds of the dead, both good and ill, for they now fear only the infernal judges, and not importune rumours. And yet I do not hesitate to name myself. For I am an old man, as grey of hair as I am secure of position, and indeed satisfied in ambition. I have faithfully progressed along the Cursus Honorum. My prior foolishness as laid bare in these letters I freely accept and display lest you, O mothers and fathers of Rome, harm your own. Furthermore I hope that my name should remind you of my reputation, and so confirm the veracity of these accounts.
Forgive me, O Romans, for having written this small exordium. The rest, I assure you, I will unfold in the narration itself.
On an unseasonably cold night, we convened at Drusilla’s, as we had agreed, to divulge the results of our investigations. Our hostess very evidently had found out something of great import, yet she bade the rest of us to tell our tales first. Truly, no one but her was able to describe more than the bare facts of the history of that pestilential house. She indeed expounded the whole story, which you, O reader, have read in her letter. I will not relate the matter word for word – she herself has revealed it eloquently enough – but believe me, we were all greatly amazed, and dumbstruck with fear and pity. But yet doubt, uncertain at first but growing ever clearer, did seize my heart. So particularly did she relate the story, that I could not believe her words originated from any reading. For such a great diary – her narration took up two whole hours – I could hardly believe the little Greek maid to have written. Even if she had written so many scrolls’ worth, where could she have hidden them, and how? Furthermore Drusilla refused to display the scrolls. I sat quietly, observing the others. I didn’t know what we should do.
After the account, the dining room filled with silence, which Decimus suddenly tore asunder. In a tremulous voice he asked Drusilla to produce the diary. She flatly refused. In a desperate ire, Decimus revealed Horatia’s apprehensions, who went looking for the scroll and found it not. At these words a commotion tore through the guests. The slaves fled in terror, Horatia in tears, Quintus in disgust. Decimus quarrelled with Drusilla, whist a disquieted Macro tried to make peace. And yet I sat in silence. I watched Drusilla intently for a very long time, almost forgetting the others. I asked myself, What did she want? What was she planning. What lurked beneath that wisdom and beauty?
Finally I got up from the couch. I addressed my friends like litigious senators or unruly children: ‘Stop this!’ I said, ‘we must not set ourselves at odds. I would speak with Drusilla alone. The rest of you ought to go home.’
We stayed up all night talking. Tears burst forth, and anger, and sadness, and logic, and even laughter. In the end I knew she was right. She was a new Diotima, who could have taught a thousand of Socrates. If only I had studied in her academy, I could have been governor of Africa or Asia.
I left Drusilla’s in the late morning. I found a half-awake Decimus waiting in the street before her front door.
‘You should go home, my good lad,’ I said, ‘and sleep. Tomorrow, for I have decided this with our good philosopher, I am going to destroy the house and set free the ghost.’
He interrupted me with wild questions: ‘What are you saying? What did she say? Destroy the house? What about the ghost? How did Drusilla learn everything?’
‘My dear fellow,’ I said, ‘you worry yourself for nothing. Go home. Get some sleep.’
‘But who do you believe? Drusilla's account was improbable. Horatia confirmed—‘
‘My good Roman,’ said I, myself interrupting this time, ‘stop this madness. You need to get some rest. Tomorrow the whole thing will be done with. My slaves shall show you the way to your home.’
Later I sent two of my bodyguards to Decimus’ house lest he interfere with our works the next day.
When I awoke in the morning (having slept all the way through to dawn) I began to assemble my troops. I brought together one hundred and twenty persons, and arrayed the lines of battle thus: 10 torch bearers to start the fire, 90 water bearers to contain it, and 20 toughs armed with cudgels to keep away the crowds.
In the evening I solemnly led the procession through the streets. I briefly harangue the troops, whose obedience and silence I had bought at sufficient price. Then I entered the house alone, and for the very last time. I explored every room, pouring out a libation of oil in each. I went into the women’s quarters last. I paused a few moments within, but I saw that everything had been prepared. When I emerged from the house back into the street, a few slaves cold hardly contain their applause: so greatly had the house’s evil reputation enhanced my courage in their eyes. I gave the signal without a word. They lit the fires at once. Soon flames engulfed the edifice, illuminating the sky and the city.
I heard a commotion. Decimus, who had eluded his guards, was leading a band of Drusilla’s friends and slave against us, and my toughs were repelling them. I ordered them to stand down, and summoned Decimus to myself.
‘Put out the fire,’ he cried, ‘immediately! You must! Drusilla is inside!’
‘My good Decimus,’ I said, ‘it is necessary. I know she is within. I have seen her myself. She is lying in a bedroom in the women’s quarters, peacefully, bedecked with her most precious jewels, and wearing her finest gown. I have never seen her so beautiful; she looks even more beautiful than did my daughter on her wedding day.’
‘In the bedroom? How could you leave her there?’
‘Do not be alarmed: she is at peace, and free from every care.’
‘You saw her dead?’
‘She lives... she was living.’
‘We must save her. Perhaps she lives still.’
‘We will stay here. The funeral pyre is consuming the house. Tomorrow we will go together, you and I, and collect her bones – or her ashes – and bury them in an urn in sacred ground. She does not wish any funeral, nor does she need one. Come now, don’t weep; this is a happy night.’
The we heard a rumour amongst the slaves and the workmen. Many were pointing at the sky where a terrific sight was throwing them into confusion. Above the great flames, two apparitions were coalescing out of the smoke. These were greater in size than a mortal woman, and at first indistinct, but bit by bit their countenances grew clear; it was Drusilla and the little Greek girl. For a few moments they turned in the smoke with the breeze, then suddenly rushed together and joined in the sweetest embrace. They kissed with inestimable joy as the smoke bore them aloft to be amongst the immortal gods.
finis
P. Valerius Corvinus propraetor lectori S.P.D.
Itaque, o benignissime lector,sive benignissima lectrix, omnes epistolas quae ad hanc insolitissimam rem attinerent, colligeram tibique ostendi. Nomina nisi mortuorum ψευδωνύμοις celavi, ne vivorum famae nocerent. Mortuorum res gestas aut bonas aut malas historia cognoscat ; inferos iudices solos nunc timent, nec rumorem invitum. Attamen ego me ipsum nominare haud dubio. Senex quidem sum : tam canus capillis quam securus auctoritate, videlicet et satisfactus ambitione. Cursum honorum pie cucurri, stultitiam meam priorem his litteris denudata libenter accipio et ostendo, ne vos, O parentes romani, suos laedatis. Porro nomen spero meum tibi famam meam commonefacere, ut huius narrationis veritatem confirmaret.
Ignoscite mihi, Quirites, parvum hoc prooemium scripsisse. Reliquum, vobis adfirmo, narratione ipsa explicam.
Nocte intempestive gelida apud Drusillam, ut consentieramus, cenavimus, ad investigationes inter nos divulgandas. Quam evidenter hospita nostra quid magni quaesta erat, sed nos cunctos antea enarrare iussit. Re vera nemo praeter illam res istius familiae domusque pestiferae nisi argumentum describere potuit. Illa enim cunctam historiam exposuit, quam in litteris iamiam tu, lector, legisti. Res iterum non verbatim narrabo — sat eloquentius historiam enodavit ipsa — sed crede mihi nos valde miratos, et pavore et misericordia obmutos esse. Attamen dubium, incertum primo sed magis magisque clarum, cor obsidebat. Adeo singillatim narrabat, ut putarem non e lectione orta esse verba. Quoniam tantam ephemeridem — duas horas narratio sumpsit — graeculam scripsisse haudquaquam crederem. Etsi tot volumina perscripserit, quo nam et quomodo ea celare potuerit ? Porro, qua re Drusilla nobis volumina ostdenere recusavit. Tacebam alios observans ; nescii quid faceremus.
Taciturnitas post narrationem triclinium complevit, quam Decimus subito rupit. Truculenta voce Drusillam ephemeridem producere rogavit, ea plane negavit. Desperate inratus, Decimus patefecit metum Horatiae, quae illud volumen petens non inveni. His verbis eruptis clamor hospites divellit. Servi terrore, Horatia singultim, Quintus stomacho fugit. Decimus cum Drusilla rixatus't, Macro conturbatus pacem conficere petiit. Tacebam etiam. Drusillam et longe et intente intuebar, aliorum paene oblitus sum. Quid velit ? mihimet inquam. Quid in animo habet ? Quid sub ista sapientia, sub ista pulchritudine dulci insidietur ?
Denique e lecto surrexi. Amicos velut senatores ligitiosos vel pueros contumaces compellavi : sistitie ! inquam, debemus non nosmet inimicare. Cum Drusilla solus loquar ; reliqui abeant.
Abnoctantes disceptavimus. Lacrimae ortae sunt, et ira, et maestitia, et dialectica, etenim risus. In fine, eam sapire agnovi. Ἐκείνη νέα Διοτίμα ἢν, ἣ μυρίαν Σωκράτων παιδεῦσαι δυνᾶται. O utinam academiae illius adfuissem ! Africae aut Asiae praefectus essem.
Trita diei hora discessi. Decimum semi-vigilem in via coram ianua exspectantem inveni.
— Domum abeas, aio, mi bone puer. Dormi. Cras, quoniam denique nostra cum philosopha constitui, domum deperdam ut larvam liberarem.
Saeviter interlocutus est : quid dicis ? Quid dixit ? Domumne deperdere ? Quid tamen de larva ? Quo modo Drusilla omnia didicit ?
— O mi care, inquam, frustra temet sollicitas. I domum. Dormi.
— Sed cui credis ? Haud veri similis narratio Drusillae. Horatia adfirmit —
— Pie Romane, inquam interloqens egomet, furere siste. Opus est quiescere. Cras tota res confecta erit. Mei servi te domum ducent.
Postea II stipatores ad Decimum demisit ne operibus crastinis interponeret.
Cum mane experrectus esse (ad auroram edormiveram) copias conscribere coepi. CXX homines congregavi, acies ita posui : X taediferos, ad incendium incipiendum, XC aquarios ad incendium continendum, et XX operas fustigeras ad turbam depellendam.
Vespere sollemniter pompam per vias duxi. Breviter copias contionatus sum, quarum oboedientiae silentioque sat mercedem dedi. Deinde solus domum intravi — postremum. Omnes cellas exploravi, oleum in omnibus libavi. Gynaeconitam in fine investigavi. Paucis momentis inibi moram feci, sed omnia vidi praeparata fuisse. Dum e ianua in viam discessissem, nonnulli servi vix plausum suppressit : adeo rumor domus eis fortitdinem meam auxit. Sine verbo signum dedi ; domum statim accenderunt. Mox flammae aedificium involverunt, caelum urbemque inluminaverunt.
Clamorem audivi. Decimus, qui custodes evaserat, manum amicorum Drusillae servorumque in nos duxit, operae eos repellebant. Iussi eos concedere, Decimum mihi advocavi.
— Quam celeriter, inquit, extinguite ! Debetis ! Drusilla inest !
— Mi bone Decime, aio, necesse est. Scio eam inesse. Vidi. In thalamo in gynaeconite iacet, tranquille, gemmis ornata pretiosissimis, stolam gerens elegantissimam. Numquam illam tam pulchram viderem ; filia mea vix pulchior videbatur suis nuptiis.
— In thalamo ? Quam ob rem dereliquisti ?
— Noli sollicitari : beata est. Omnibus curis vacat.
— Mortuane ?
— Tum vivebat... vixit.
— Debemus illam servare. Fortasse iam vivit !
— Manebimus. Rogus domum consumit. Cras ossia, vel cineres, colligimus — ego tecum — et urnam in terra sacra sepeliemus. Exsequias nolit, nec requirit. Agedum, noli flere ; nox iucunda est.
Rumorem dein servorum operumque audivimus. Multi caelum indicabant quo conspectus terribilis eos tumultuabatur. Magnas super flammas, duo eidola e fumo coalescebant. Haec, mulieris figura humana grandiora, primum incertae speciei, magis magisque formas congruebant, Drusillae et graeculae illius. Momentis in aura cum fumo volvebant, subitum in sese incucurrerunt, dulcissimo in amplexu se iunxerunt. Dum invicto cum gaudio osclabantur, fumus amatrices altos ad deos ferebat.
There was a House in Athens (end)
X
Publius Valerius Corvinus, Propraetor, sends many greetings to his reader
And so, my kind readers, I have collected, and now present to you all the letters pertaining to this most unusual series of events. The names, save those of the dead, I have hidden beneath pseudonyms, lest I harm the reputation of the living. Let history record the deeds of the dead, both good and ill, for they now fear only the infernal judges, and not importune rumours. And yet I do not hesitate to name myself. For I am an old man, as grey of hair as I am secure of position, and indeed satisfied in ambition. I have faithfully progressed along the Cursus Honorum. My prior foolishness as laid bare in these letters I freely accept and display lest you, O mothers and fathers of Rome, harm your own. Furthermore I hope that my name should remind you of my reputation, and so confirm the veracity of these accounts.
Forgive me, O Romans, for having written this small exordium. The rest, I assure you, I will unfold in the narration itself.
On an unseasonably cold night, we convened at Drusilla’s, as we had agreed, to divulge the results of our investigations. Our hostess very evidently had found out something of great import, yet she bade the rest of us to tell our tales first. Truly, no one but her was able to describe more than the bare facts of the history of that pestilential house. She indeed expounded the whole story, which you, O reader, have read in her letter. I will not relate the matter word for word – she herself has revealed it eloquently enough – but believe me, we were all greatly amazed, and dumbstruck with fear and pity. But yet doubt, uncertain at first but growing ever clearer, did seize my heart. So particularly did she relate the story, that I could not believe her words originated from any reading. For such a great diary – her narration took up two whole hours – I could hardly believe the little Greek maid to have written. Even if she had written so many scrolls’ worth, where could she have hidden them, and how? Furthermore Drusilla refused to display the scrolls. I sat quietly, observing the others. I didn’t know what we should do.
After the account, the dining room filled with silence, which Decimus suddenly tore asunder. In a tremulous voice he asked Drusilla to produce the diary. She flatly refused. In a desperate ire, Decimus revealed Horatia’s apprehensions, who went looking for the scroll and found it not. At these words a commotion tore through the guests. The slaves fled in terror, Horatia in tears, Quintus in disgust. Decimus quarrelled with Drusilla, whist a disquieted Macro tried to make peace. And yet I sat in silence. I watched Drusilla intently for a very long time, almost forgetting the others. I asked myself, What did she want? What was she planning. What lurked beneath that wisdom and beauty?
Finally I got up from the couch. I addressed my friends like litigious senators or unruly children: ‘Stop this!’ I said, ‘we must not set ourselves at odds. I would speak with Drusilla alone. The rest of you ought to go home.’
We stayed up all night talking. Tears burst forth, and anger, and sadness, and logic, and even laughter. In the end I knew she was right. She was a new Diotima, who could have taught a thousand of Socrates. If only I had studied in her academy, I could have been governor of Africa or Asia.
I left Drusilla’s in the late morning. I found a half-awake Decimus waiting in the street before her front door.
‘You should go home, my good lad,’ I said, ‘and sleep. Tomorrow, for I have decided this with our good philosopher, I am going to destroy the house and set free the ghost.’
He interrupted me with wild questions: ‘What are you saying? What did she say? Destroy the house? What about the ghost? How did Drusilla learn everything?’
‘My dear fellow,’ I said, ‘you worry yourself for nothing. Go home. Get some sleep.’
‘But who do you believe? Drusilla's account was improbable. Horatia confirmed—‘
‘My good Roman,’ said I, myself interrupting this time, ‘stop this madness. You need to get some rest. Tomorrow the whole thing will be done with. My slaves shall show you the way to your home.’
Later I sent two of my bodyguards to Decimus’ house lest he interfere with our works the next day.
When I awoke in the morning (having slept all the way through to dawn) I began to assemble my troops. I brought together one hundred and twenty persons, and arrayed the lines of battle thus: 10 torch bearers to start the fire, 90 water bearers to contain it, and 20 toughs armed with cudgels to keep away the crowds.
In the evening I solemnly led the procession through the streets. I briefly harangue the troops, whose obedience and silence I had bought at sufficient price. Then I entered the house alone, and for the very last time. I explored every room, pouring out a libation of oil in each. I went into the women’s quarters last. I paused a few moments within, but I saw that everything had been prepared. When I emerged from the house back into the street, a few slaves cold hardly contain their applause: so greatly had the house’s evil reputation enhanced my courage in their eyes. I gave the signal without a word. They lit the fires at once. Soon flames engulfed the edifice, illuminating the sky and the city.
I heard a commotion. Decimus, who had eluded his guards, was leading a band of Drusilla’s friends and slave against us, and my toughs were repelling them. I ordered them to stand down, and summoned Decimus to myself.
‘Put out the fire,’ he cried, ‘immediately! You must! Drusilla is inside!’
‘My good Decimus,’ I said, ‘it is necessary. I know she is within. I have seen her myself. She is lying in a bedroom in the women’s quarters, peacefully, bedecked with her most precious jewels, and wearing her finest gown. I have never seen her so beautiful; she looks even more beautiful than did my daughter on her wedding day.’
‘In the bedroom? How could you leave her there?’
‘Do not be alarmed: she is at peace, and free from every care.’
‘You saw her dead?’
‘She lives... she was living.’
‘We must save her. Perhaps she lives still.’
‘We will stay here. The funeral pyre is consuming the house. Tomorrow we will go together, you and I, and collect her bones – or her ashes – and bury them in an urn in sacred ground. She does not wish any funeral, nor does she need one. Come now, don’t weep; this is a happy night.’
The we heard a rumour amongst the slaves and the workmen. Many were pointing at the sky where a terrific sight was throwing them into confusion. Above the great flames, two apparitions were coalescing out of the smoke. These were greater in size than a mortal woman, and at first indistinct, but bit by bit their countenances grew clear; it was Drusilla and the little Greek girl. For a few moments they turned in the smoke with the breeze, then suddenly rushed together and joined in the sweetest embrace. They kissed with inestimable joy as the smoke bore them aloft to be amongst the immortal gods.
