Their first greetings and questions were over, and the two friends sat down to the table. The host was certainly an Epicurean or votary of pleasure; but in order to be able to enjoy, one must be moderate, and the meal, judging by Roman customs, was quite a frugal one, but simple and brilliant. Then the cups were passed round, and the wine awoke memories in spite of its supposed lethal capacity of quenching them. “Well, you were in the war, friend?” began Virgil. “Yes, and I fled disgracefully, as you know.” “I have read so in one of your poems, but it is said not to be true, and you have slandered yourself.” “Have I? Perhaps! One talks nonsense when one writes.” “You poet, do you remember how you asked me in Athens whether it were difficult? How did you come to write?” “I needed money!” “Now you slander yourself again! If all clients who needed money could write, the world would be full of poets.” “Well, perhaps it was not so. But speak of yourself--of your _Aeneid_.” Virgil looked gloomy: “Of that I will not speak.” “Is it finished?” “More than that! It is done with!” “Done with?” “Yes! When I read it, I found it a failure! It was not Homer; it was nothing. It was a punishment, because I wished to outshine my father.” “Have you destroyed it?” “Not yet; but it is sealed up, in order to be destroyed after my death.” “Now _you_ are slandering yourself, and you are depressed, Maro, not by years, not by work, but by something else.” “Yes, by something else. The future disturbs me!” Horace shook his cup and recited: [Footnote: Hor. Od. I. ii.] “Do not go to the astrologers, Leuconoe. Better bear life as it comes. Be wise, clear your wine! While we speak, envious life is flying. Enjoy the present, and think as little as possible about the future.” “That I cannot!” broke in Virgil. “I cannot drown myself in my cups, when I see my fatherland perishing.” “Has Rome ever been so powerful as it is now? Do we not possess the whole known world--Egypt, Syria, Greece, Italy, Spain, Germany, Gaul, Britain? And yet we live in a time of peace: the Temple of Janus is closed; the earth rejoices; the arts flourish; and commerce was never so active as at present.” “Yes, the peace that precedes a war. For all these conquered nations are awake, and have an eye on Rome. Not on Greece as before, for Greece is barren and laid waste, and passes into the great silence. Do you know that Sulla and Mithridates have gone slaying and pillaging over Hellas, so that science and art have fled to the Egyptian Alexandria or the growing Byzantium? Do you know that pirates, whose origin is unknown, from the East, have recently plundered every temple in Hellas, so that hardly any religious service can be held there? The oracles are dumb, the poets are silent like song-birds in a storm, the great tragedies are no longer performed; people rather go to see farces and gladiatorial shows. Hellas is a ruin, and Rome will soon be one.”