'I shall think my time and talent well employed,' I replied, 'in doing what I may to set the question of Christianity in its true light before the city. It is this very institution, Varus, which it needs to preserve it. Christianize Rome, and you impart the very principle of endurance, of immortality. Under its present corruptions, it cannot but sink. Is it possible that a community of men can long hold together as vicious as this of Rome?—whose people are either disbelievers of all divine existences, or else ground to the earth by the most degrading superstitions? A nation, either on the one hand governed by superstition, or, on the other, atheistical, contains within itself the disease which sooner or later will destroy it. You yourself, it is notorious, have never been within the walls of a temple, nor are Lares or Penates to be found within your doors.'
'I deny it not,' rejoined the Prefect. 'Most who rise to any intelligence, must renounce, if they ever harbored it, all faith in the absurdities and nonsense of the Roman religion. But what then? These very absurdities, as we deem them, are holy truth to the multitude, and do more than all bolts, bars, axes, and gibbets, to keep them in subjection. The intelligent are good citizens by reflection; the multitude, through instincts of birth, and the power of superstition. My idea is, as you perceive, Piso, but one. Religion is the state, and for reasons of state must be preserved in the very form in which it has so long upheld the empire.'
'An idea more degrading than yours, to our species,' I replied, 'can hardly be conceived. I cannot but look upon man as something more than a part of the state. He is, first of all, a man, and is to be cared for as such. To legislate for the state, to the ruin of the man, is to pamper the body, and kill the soul. It is to invert the true process. The individual is more than the abstraction which we term the state. If governments cannot exist, nor empires hold their sway, but by the destruction of the human being, why let them fall. The lesser must yield to the greater. As a Christian, my concern is for man as man. This is the essence of the religion of Christ. It is philanthropy. It sees in every human soul a being of more value than empires, and its purpose is, by furnishing it with truths and motives, equal to its wants, to exalt it, purify it, and perfect it. If, in achieving this work, existing religions or governments are necessarily overturned or annihilated, Christianity cares not, so long as man is the gainer. And is it not certain, that no government could really be injured, although it might apparently, and for a season, by its subjects being raised in all intelligence and all virtue? My work therefore, Varus, will be to sow truth in the heart of the people, which shall make that heart fertile and productive. I do not believe that in doing this Rome will suffer injury, but on the contrary receive benefit. Its religion, or rather its degrading superstitions, may fall, but a principle of almighty energy and divine purity will insensibly be substituted in their room. I labor for man—not for the state.'
'And never, accordingly, most noble Piso, did man, in so unequivocal words, denounce himself traitor.'
'Patriot! friend! benefactor! rather;' cried a voice at my side, which I instantly recognized as that of Probus. Several beside himself had drawn near, listening with interest to what was going on.
'That only shows, my good friend,' said Varus, in his same smiling way, and which seems the very contradiction of all that is harsh and cruel, 'how differently we estimate things. Your palate esteems that to be wholesome and nutritious food, which mine rejects as ashes to the taste, and poison to the blood. I behold Rome torn and bleeding, prostrate and dying, by reason of innovations upon faith and manners, which to you appear the very means of growth, strength, and life. How shall we resolve the doubt—how reconcile the contradiction? Who shall prescribe for the patient? I am happy in the belief, that the Roman people have longsince decided for themselves, and confirm their decision every day as it passes, by new acts and declarations.'
'If you mean,' said Probus, 'to say that numbers and the general voice are still against the Christians, I grant it so. But I am happy too in my belief, that the scale is trembling on the beam. There are more and better than you wot of, who hail with eager minds and glad hearts, the truths which it is our glory, as servants of Christ, to propound. Within many a palace upon the seven hills, do prayers go up in his name; and what is more, thousands upon thousands of the humbler ranks, of those who but yesterday were without honor in their own eyes, or others'—without faith—at war with themselves and the world—fit tools for and foe of the state to work with—are to-day reverers of themselves, worshippers of God, lovers of mankind, patriots who love their country better than ever before, because they now behold in every citizen not only a citizen, but a brother and an immortal. The doctrine of Christianity, as a lover of man, so commends itself, Varus, to the hearts of the people, that in a few more years of prosperity, and the face of the Roman world will glow with a new beauty; love and humanity will shine forth in all its features.
'That is very pretty,' said Varus, his lip slightly curling, as he spoke, but retaining his courteous bearing, 'yet methinks, seeing this doctrine is so bewitching, and is withal a heaven-inspired wisdom, the God working behind it and urging it on, it moves onward with a pace something of the slowest. Within a few of three hundred years has it appealed to the human race, and appealed in vain. The feeblest and the worst of mankindhave had power almost to annihilate it, and more than once has it seemed scarce to retain its life. Would it have been so, had it been in reality what you claim for it, of divine birth? Would the gods suffer their schemes for man's good to be so thwarted, and driven aside by man? What was this boasted faith doing during the long and peaceful reigns of Hadrian, and the first Antonine? The sword of persecution was then sheathed, or if it fell at all, it was but on a few. So too under Vespasian, Titus, Nerva, Commodus, Severus, Heliogabalus, the Philips, Gallienus, and Claudius?'
'That is well said,' a Roman voice added, of one standing by the side of Varus, 'and is a general wonder.'
'I marvel it should be a wonder,' rejoined Probus. 'Can you pour into a full measure? Must it not be first emptied? Who, Varus, let him try as he may, could plant the doctrine of Christ in thy heart? Could I do it, think you?—or Piso?'
'I trow not.'
'And why, I pray you?'
'It is not hard to guess.'
'Is it not because you are already full of contrary notions, to which you cling tenaciously, and from which, perhaps, no human force could drag you? But yours is a type of every other Roman mind to which Christianity has been offered. If you receive it not at once, should others? Suppose the soul to be full of sincere convictions as to the popular faith, can the gospel easily enter there? Suppose it skeptical, as to all spiritual truth; can it enter there? Suppose it polluted by vicecan it easily enter there? Suppose it like the soul of Fronto,——'
'Hush! hush!' said several voices. Probus heeded them not.
'Suppose it like the soul of Pronto, could it enter there? See you not then, by knowing your own hearts, what time it must demand for a new, and specially a strict doctrine, to make its way into the minds of men? 'Tis not easier to bore a rock with one's finger, than to penetrate a heart hardened by sin or swelled with prejudice and pride. And if we say, Varus, this was a work for the God to do—that he who originated the faith should propagate it—I answer, that would not be like the other dealings of the divine power. He furnishes you with earth and seed, but he ploughs not for you, nor plants, nor reaps. He gives you reason, but he pours not knowledge into your mind. So he offers truth; but that is all. He compels no assent; he forces no belief. All is voluntary and free. How then can the march of truth be otherwise than slow? Truth, being the greatest thing below, resembles in its port the motion of the stars, which are the greatest things above. But like theirs, if slow, it is ever sure and onward.'
'The stars set in night.'
'But they rise again. Truth is eclipsed often, and it sets for a night; but never is turned aside from its eternal path.'
'Never, Publius,' said the Prefect, adjusting his gown, and with the act filling the air with perfume 'never did I think to find myself within a Christian church. Your shop possesses many virtues. It is aplace to be instructed in.' Then turning to Probus, he soothingly and in persuasive tones, added, 'Be advised now, good friend, and leave off thy office of teacher. Rome can well spare thee. Take the judgment of others; we need not thy doctrine. Let that alone which is well established and secure. Spare these institutions, venerable through a thousand years. Leave changes to the gods.'
Probus was about to reply, when we were strangely interrupted. While we had been conversing, there stood before me, in the midst of the floor of the apartment, a man, whose figure, face, and demeanor were such that I hardly could withdraw my eye from him. He was tall and gaunt, beyond all I ever saw, and erect as a Prætorian in the ranks. His face was strongly Roman, thin and bony, with sunken cheeks, a brown and wrinkled skin—not through age, but exposure—and eyes more wild and fiery than ever glared in the head of Hun or hyena. He seemed a living fire-brand of death and ruin. As we talked, he stood there motionless, sometimes casting glances at our group, but more frequently fixing them upon a roll which he held in his hands.
As Varus uttered the last words, this man suddenly left his post, and reaching us with two or three strides, shook his long finger at Varus, saying, at the same time,
'Hold, blasphemer!'
The Prefect started as if struck, and gazing a moment with unfeigned amazement at the figure, then immediately burst into a laugh, crying out,
'Ha! ha! Who in the name of Hecate have we here? Ha! ha!—he seems just escaped from the Vivaria.'
'Thy laugh,' said the figure, 'is the music of a sick and dying soul. It is a rebel's insult against the majesty of Heaven; ay, laugh on! That is what the devils do; it is the merriment of hell. What time they burn not, they laugh. But enough. Hold now thy scoffing, Prefect Varus, for, high as thou art, I fear thee not: no! not wert thou twice Aurelian, instead of Varus. I have somewhat for thee. Wilt hear it?'
'With delight, Bubo. Say on.'
'It was thy word just now, 'Rome needs not this doctrine,' was it not?'
'If I said it not, it is a good saying, and I will father it.'
''Rome needs not this doctrine; she is well enough; let her alone!' These were thy words. Need not, Varus, the streets of Rome a cleansing river to purify them? Dost thou think them well enough, till all the fountains have been let loose to purge them? Is Tarquin's sewer a place to dwell in? Could all the waters of Rome sweeten it? The people of Rome are fouler than her highways. The sewers are sweeter than the very worshippers of our temples. Thou knowest somewhat of this. Wast ever present at the rites of Bacchus?—or those of the Cyprian goddess? Nay, blush not yet. Didst ever hear of the gladiator Pollex?—of the woman Cæcina?—of the boy Lælius, and the fair girl Fannia—proffered and sold by the parents, Pollex and Cæcina, to the loose pleasures of Gallienus? Now I give thee leave to blush! Is it nought that theone half of Rome is sunk in a sensuality, a beastly drunkenness and lust, fouler than that of old, which, in Judea, called down the fiery vengeance of the insulted heavens? Thou knowest well, both from early experience and because of thy office, what the purlieus of the theatres are, and places worse than those, and which to name were an offence. But to you they need not be named. Is all this, Varus, well enough? Is this that venerable order thou wouldst not have disturbed? Is that to be charged as impiety and atheism, which aims to change and reform it? Are they conspirators, and rebels, and traitors, whose sole office and labor is to mend these degenerate morals, to heal these corrupting sores, to pour a better life into the rotting carcass of this guilty city? Is it for our pastime, or our profit, that we go about this always dangerous work? Is it a pleasure to hear the gibes, jests, and jeers of the streets and the places of public resort? Will you not believe that it is for some great end that we do and bear as thou seest—even the redemption, and purifying, and saving of Rome? I love Rome, even as a mother, and for her am ready to die. I have bled for her freely in battle, in Gaul, upon the Danube, in Asia, and in Egypt. I am willing to bleed for her at home, even unto death, if that blood might, through the blessing of God, be a stream to cleanse her putrifying members. But O, holy Jesus! why waste I words upon one whose heart is harder than the nether millstone! Thou preachedst not to Pilate, nor didst thou work thy wonders for Herod. Varus, beware!'
And with these words, uttered with a wild andthreatening air, he abruptly turned away, and was lost in the crowds of the street.
While he raved, the Prefect maintained the same unruffled demeanor as before. His customary smile played around his mouth, a smile like no other I ever saw. To a casual observer, it would seem like every other smile, but to one who watches him, it is evident that it denotes no hilarity of heart, for the eyes accompany it not with a corresponding expression, but on the contrary, look forth from their beautiful cavities with glances that speak of anything rather than of peace and good-will. So soon as the strange being who had been declaiming had disappeared, the Prefect, turning to me, as he drew up his gown around him, said,
'I give you joy, Piso, of your coadjutor. A few more of the same fashion, and Rome is safe.' And saluting us with urbanity, he sallied from the shop.
I had been too much amazed, myself, during this scene, to do anything else than stand still, and listen, and observe. As for Probus, I saw him to be greatly moved, and give signs of even deep distress. He evidently knew who the person was—as I saw him make more than one ineffectual effort to arrest him in his harangue—and as evidently held him in respect, seeing he abstained from all interruption of a speech that he felt to be provoking wantonly the passions of the Prefect, and of many who stood around, from whom, so soon as the man of authority had withdrawn, angry words broke forth abundantly.
'Well did the noble Prefect say, that that wild animal had come forth like a half-famished tiger from the Vivaria,' said one.
'It is singular,' observed another, 'that a man who pretends to reform the state, should think to do it by first putting it into a rage with him, and all he utters.'
'Especially singular,' added a third, 'that the advocate of a religion that, as I hear, condemns violence, and consists in the strictness with which the passions are governed, should suppose that he was doing any other work than entering a breach in his own citadel, by such ferocity. But it is quite possible his wits are touched.'
'No, I presume not,' said the first; 'this is a kind of zeal which, if I have observed aright, the Christians hold in esteem.'
As these separated to distant parts of the shop, I said to Probus, who seemed heavily oppressed by what had occurred, 'What dæmon dwells in that body that has just departed?'
'Well do you say dæmon. The better mind of that man seems oft-times seized upon by some foul spirit, and bound—which then acts and speaks in its room. But do you not know him?'
'No, truly; he is a stranger to me, as he appears to be to all.'
'Nevertheless, you have been in his company. You forget not the Mediterranean voyage?'
'By no means. I enjoyed it highly, and recall it ever with delight.'
'Do you not remember, at the time I narrated to you the brief story of my life, that, as I ended, a rough voice from among the soldiers exclaimed, 'Where now are the gods of Rome?' This is that man, the soldier Macer; then bound with fellow soldiers to the service in Africa, now a Christian preacher.'
'I see it now. That man impressed me then with his thin form and all-devouring eyes. But the African climate, and the gash across his left cheek, and which seems to have slightly disturbed the eye upon that side, have made him a different being, and almost a terrific one. Is he sound and sane?'
'Perfectly so,' replied Probus, 'unless we may say that souls earnestly devoted and zealous, are mad. There is not a more righteous soul in Rome. His conscience is bare, and shrinking like a fresh wound. His breast is warm and fond as a woman's—his penitence for the wild errors of his pagan youth, a consuming fire, which, while it redoubles his ardor in doing what he may in the cause of truth, rages in secret, and, if the sword or the cross claim him not, will bring him to the grave. He is utterly incapable of fear. All the racks and dungeons of Rome, with their tormentors, could not terrify him.'
'You now interest me in him. I must see and know him. It might be of service to him and to all, Probus, methinks, if he could be brought to associate with those whose juster notions might influence his, and modify them to the rule of truth.'
'I fear not. What he sees, he sees clearly and strongly, and by itself. He understands nothing of one truth bearing upon another, and adding to it, or taking from it. Truth is truth with him—and as his own mind perceives it—not another's. His conscience will allow him in no accommodations to other men's opinions or wishes; with him, right is right, wrong is wrong. He is impatient under an argument as a war-horse under the rein after the trumpet sounds. It is unavoidable therefore but he should possess great power among the Christians of Rome. His are the bold and decisive qualities that strike the common mind. There is glory and applause in following and enduring under such a leader. Many are fain to believe him divinely illuminated and impelled, to unite the characters of teacher and prophet; and from knowing that he is so regarded by others, Macer has come almost to believe it himself. He is tending more and more to construe every impulse of his own mind into a divine suggestion, and I believe honestly experiences difficulty in discriminating between them. Still, I do not deny that it would be of advantage for him more and more to come in contact with sober and enlightened minds. I shall take pleasure, at some fitting moment, to accompany you to his humble dwelling; the rather as I would show you also his wife and children, all of whom are like himself Christians.'
'I shall not forget the promise.'
Whereupon we separated.
I then searched for Publius, and making my purchases, returned home, Milo following with the books.
As Milo relieved himself of his burden, discharging it upon the floor of the library, I overheard him to say,
'Lie there, accursed rolls! May the flames consume you, ere you are again upon my shoulders! For none but Piso would I have done what I have. Let me to the temple and expiate.'
'What words are these?' cried Solon, emerging suddenly at the sound from a recess. 'Who dares toheap curses upon books, which are the soul embalmed and made imperishable? What have we here? Aha! a new treasure for these vacant shelves, and most trimly ordered.'
'These, venerable Greek,' exclaimed Milo, waving him away, 'are books of magic! oriental magic! Have a care! A touch may be fatal! Our noble master affects the Egyptians.'
'Magic!' exclaimed Solon, with supreme contempt; 'art thou so idiotic as to put credence in such fancies? Away!—hinder me not!' And saying so, he eagerly grasped a volume, and unrolling it, to the beginning of the work, dropped it suddenly, as if bitten by a serpent.
'Ha!' cried Milo, 'said I not so? Art thou so idiotic, learned Solon, as to believe in such fancies? How is it with thee? Is thy blood hot or cold?—thy teeth loose or fast?—thy arm withered or swollen?'
Solon stood surveying the pile, with a look partly of anger, partly of sorrow.
'Neither, fool!' he replied. 'These possess not the power nor worth fabled of magic. They are books of dreams, visions, reveries, which are to the mind what fogs would be for food, and air for drink, innutritive and vain. Papias!—Irenæus!—Hegesippus!—Polycarp!—Origen!—whose names are these, and to whom familiar? Some are Greek, some are Latin, but not a name famous in the world meets my eye. But we will order them on their shelves, and trust that time, which accomplishes all things, will restore reason to Piso. Milo, essay thy strength—my limbs are feeble—and lift these upon yonder marble; so may age deal gently with thee.'
'Not for their weight in wisdom, Solon, would I again touch them. I have borne them hither, and if the priests speak truly, my life is worth not an obolus. I were mad to tempt my fate farther.'
'Avaunt thee, then, for a fool and a slave, as thou art!'
'Nay now, master Solon, thy own wisdom forsakes thee. Philosophers, they say, are ever possessors of themselves, though for the rest they be beggars.'
'Beggar! sayest thou? Avaunt! I say, or Papias shall teach thee'—and he would have launched the roll at the head of Milo, but that, with quick instincts, he shot from the apartment, and left the pedagogue to do his own bidding.
So, Fausta, you see that Solon is still the irritable old man he was, and Milo the fool he was. Think not me worse than either, for hoping so to entertain you. I know that in your solitude and grief, even such pictures may be welcome.
When I related to Julia the scene and the conversation at the shop of Publius, she listened not without agitation, and expresses her fears lest such extravagances, repeated and become common, should inflame the minds both of the people and their rulers against the Christians. Though I agree with her in lamenting the excess of zeal displayed by many of the Christians, and their needless assaults upon the characters and faith of their opposers, I cannot apprehend serious consequences from them, because the instances of it are so few and rare, and are palpable exceptions to the general character which I believe the whole city would unite inascribing to this people. Their mildness and pacific temper are perhaps the very traits by which they are most distinguished, with which they are indeed continually reproached. Yet individual acts are often the remote causes of vast universal evil—of bloodshed, war, and revolution. Macer alone is enough to set on fire a city, a continent, a world.
I rejoice, I cannot tell you how sincerely, in all your progress. I do not doubt in the ultimate return of the city to its former populousness and wealth, at least. Aurelian has done well for you at last. His disbursements for the Temple of the Sun alone are vast, and must be more than equal to its perfect restoration. Yet his overthrown column you will scarce be tempted to rebuild. Forget not to assure Gracchus and Calpurnius of my affection. Farewell.
You are right, Fausta, in your unfavorable judgment of the Roman populace. The Romans are not a people one would select to whom to propose a religion like this of Christianity. All causes seem to combine to injure and corrupt them. They are too rich. The wealth of subject kingdoms and provinces finds its way to Rome; and not only in the form of tribute to the treasury of the empire, but in that of the private fortunes amassed by such as have held offices in them for a few years, and who then return to the capital to dissipate in extravagance and luxuries, unknown to other parts of the world, the riches wrung by violence, injustice, and avarice from the wretched inhabitants whom fortune had delivered into their power. Yes, the wealth of Rome is accumulated in such masses, not through the channels of industry or commerce; it arrives in bales and ship-loads, drained from foreign lands by the hand of extortion. The palaces are not to be numbered, built and adorned in a manner surpassing those of the monarchs of other nations, which are the private residences of those, or of the descendants of those who for a few years have presided over some distant province, but in that brief time, Verres-like, have used their opportunities so well as to return home oppressed with a wealth which life proves not long enough to spend, notwithstanding the aid of dissolute and spendthrift sons. Here have we a single source of evil equal to the ruin of any people. The morals of no community could be protected against such odds. It is a mountain torrent tearing its way through the fields of the husbandman, whose trees and plants possess no strength of branch or root to resist the inundation.
Then in addition to all this, there are the largesses of the Emperor, not only to his armies, but to all the citizens of Rome; which are now so much a matter of expectation, that rebellions I believe would ensue were they not bestowed. Aurelian, before his expedition to Asia, promised to every citizen a couple of crowns—he has redeemed the promise by the distribution, not of money but of bread, two loaves to each, with the figure of a crown stamped upon them. Besides this, there has been an allowance of meat and pork—so much to all the lower orders. He even contemplated the addition of wine to the list, but was hindered by the judicious suggestion of his friend and general, Mucapor, that if he provided wine and pork, he would next be obliged to furnish them fowls also, or public tumults might break out. This recalled him to his senses. Still however only in part, for the other grants have not been withdrawn. In this manner is this whole population supported in idleness. Labor is confined to the slaves. The poor feed upon the bounties of the Emperor, and the wealth so abundantly lavished by senators, nobles, and the retired proconsuls. Their sole employment is, to wait upon the pleasure of their many masters, serve them as they are ready enough to do, in the toils and preparations of luxury, and what time they arenot thus occupied, pass the remainder of their hours at the theatres, at the circuses, at games of a thousand kinds, or in noisy groups at the corners of the streets and in the market-places.
It is become a state necessity to provide amusements for the populace in order to be safe against their violence. The theatres, the baths, with their ample provisions for passing away time in some indolent amusement or active game, are always open and always crowded. Public or funeral games are also in progress without intermission in different parts of the capital. Those instituted in honor of the gods, and which make a part of the very religion of the people are seldom suspended for even a day. At one temple or another, in this grove or that, within or without the walls, are these lovers of pleasure entertained by shows, processions, music, and sacrifices. And as if these were not enough, or when they perchance fail for a moment, and the sovereign people are listless and dull, the Flavian is thrown open by the imperial command, the Vivaria vomit forth their maddened and howling tenants either to destroy each other, or dye the dust of the arena with the blood of gladiators, criminals, or captives. These are the great days of the Roman people; these their favorite pleasures. The cry through the streets in the morning of even women and boys, 'Fifty captives to-day for the lions in the Flavian,' together with the more solemn announcement of the same by the public heralds, and by painted bills at the corners of the streets, and on the public baths, is sure to throw the city into a fever of excitement, and rivet by a new bond the affections of this blood-thirsty people to their indulgent Emperor.
Hardly has the floor of the amphitheatre been renewed since the cessation of the triumphal games of Aurelian, before it is again to be soaked with blood in honor of Apollo, whose magnificent temple is within a few days to be dedicated.
Never before I believe was there a city whose inhabitants so many and so powerful causes conspired to corrupt and morally destroy. Were I to give you a picture of the vices of Rome, it would be too dark and foul a one for your eye to read, but not darker nor fouler than you will suppose it must necessarily be to agree with what I have already said. Where there is so little industry and so much pleasure, the vices will flourish and shoot up to their most gigantic growth. Not in the days of Nero were they more luxuriant than now. Aurelian, in the first year of his reign, laid upon them a severe but useful restraint, and they were checked for a time. But since he has himself departed from the simplicity and rigor of that early day, and actually or virtually repealed the laws which then were promulgated for the reformation of the city in its manners, the people have also relapsed, and the ancient excesses are renewed.
This certainly is not a people who, in its whole mass, will be eager to receive the truths of a religion like this of Christianity. It will be repulsive to them. You are right in believing that among the greater part it will find no favor. But all are not such as I have described. There are others different in all respects, who stand waiting the appearance of some principles of philosophy or religion which shall be powerful enough to redeem their country from idolatry and moral death as well as raise themselves from darkness to light. Some of this sort are to be found among the nobles and senators themselves,—a few among the very dregs of the people, but most among those who, securing for themselves competence and independence by their own labor in some of the useful arts, and growing thoughtful and intelligent with their labor, understand in some degree, which others do not, what life is for and what they are for, and hail with joy truths which commend themselves to both their reason and their affections. It is out of these, the very best blood of Rome, that our Christians are made. They are, in intelligence and virtue, the very bone and muscle of the capital, and of our two millions constitute no mean proportion,—large enough to rule and control the whole, should they ever choose to put forth their power. It is among these that the Christian preachers aim to spread their doctrines, and when they shall all, or in their greater part, be converted, as, judging of the future by the past and present, will happen in no long time, Rome will be safe and the empire safe. For it needs, I am persuaded, for Rome to be as pure as she is great, to be eternal in her dominion, and then the civilizer and saviour of the whole world. O, glorious age!—not remote—when truth shall wield the sceptre in Cæsar's seat, and subject nations of the earth no longer come up to Rome to behold and copy her vices, but to hear the law and be imbued with the doctrine of Christ, so bearing back to the remotest province precious seed, there to be planted,and spring up and bear fruit, filling the earth with beauty and fragrance.
These things, Fausta, in answer to the questions at the close of your letter, which betray just such an interest in the subject which engrosses me, as it gives me pleasure to witness.
I have before mentioned the completion of Aurelian's Temple of the Sun and the proposed dedication. This august ceremony is appointed for tomorrow, and this evening we are bidden to the gardens of Sallust, where is to be all the rank and beauty of Rome. O that thou, Fausta, couldst be there!
I have been, I have seen, I have supped, I have returned; and again seated at my table beneath the protecting arm of my chosen divinity, I take my pen, and, by a few magic flourishes and marks, cause you, a thousand leagues away, to see and hear what I have seen and heard.
Accompanied by Portia and Julia, I was within the palace of the Emperor early enough to enjoy the company of Aurelian and Livia before the rest of the world was there. We were carried to the more private apartments of the Empress, where it is her custom to receive those whose friendship she values most highly. They are in that part of the palace which has undergone no alterations since it was the residence of the great historian, but shines in all the lustre of a taste and an art that adorned a more accomplished age than our own. Especially, it seems to me, in the graceful disposition of the interiors of their palaces, and the combined richnessand appropriateness of the art lavished upon them, did the genius of the days of Hadrian and Vespasian surpass the present. Not that I defend all that that genius adopted and immortalized. It was not seldom licentious and gross in its conceptions, however unrivalled in the art and science by which they were made to glow upon the walls, or actually speak and move in marble or brass. In the favorite apartment of Livia, into which we were now admitted, perfect in its forms and proportions, the walls and ceilings are covered with the story of Leda, wrought with an effect of drawing and color, of which the present times afford no example. The well-known Greek, Polymnestes, was the artist. And this room in all its embellishments is chaste and cold compared with others, whose subjects were furnished to the painter by the profligate master himself.
The room of Leda, as it is termed, is—but how beautiful it is I cannot tell. Words paint poorly to the eye. Believe it not less beautiful, nor less exquisitely adorned with all that woman loves most, hangings, carpets and couches, than any in the palace of Gracchus or Zenobia. It was here we found Aurelian and Livia, and his niece Aurelia. The Emperor, habited in silken robes richly wrought with gold, the inseparable sword at his side, from which, at the expense of whatever incongruity, he never parts—advanced to the door to receive us, saying,
'I am happy that the mildness of this autumn day permits this pleasure, to see the mother of the Pisos beneath my roof. It is rare nowadays that Rome sees her abroad.'
'Save to the palace of Aurelian,' replied my mother, I now, as is well known, never move beyond the precincts of my own dwelling. Since the captivity and death of your former companion in arms, my great husband, Cneius Piso, the widow's hearth has been my hall of state, these widow's weeds my only robes. But it must be more than private grief, and more than the storms of autumn or of winter, that would keep me back when it is Aurelian who bids to the feast.'
'We owe you many thanks,' replied the Emperor. 'Would that the loyalty of the parents were inherited by the children;' casting towards me, as he saluted me at the same time, a look which seemed to say that he was partly serious, if partly in jest. After mutual inquiries and salutations, we were soon seated upon couches beneath a blaze of light which, from the centre of the apartment, darted its brightness, as it had been the sun itself, to every part of the room.
'It is no light sorrow to a mother's heart,' said Portia, 'to know that her two sons, and her only sons, are, one the open enemy of his country, the other—what shall I term you, Lucius?—an innovator upon her ancient institutions; and while he believes and calls himself—sincerely, I doubt not—the friend of his country, is in truth, as every good Roman would say—not an enemy, my son, I cannot use that word, but as it were—an unconscious injurer. Would that the conqueror of the world had power to conquer this boy's will!'
'Aurelian, my mother,' I replied, 'did he possess the power, would hesitate to use it in such a cause. But it is easy to see that it would demand infinitely more power to change one honest mind than to subdue even the world by the sword.'
Aurelian for a brief moment looked as if he had received a personal affront.
'How say you,' said he, 'demands it more power to change one mind than conquer a world? Methinks it might be done with something less. My soldiers often maintain with violence a certain opinion; but I find it not difficult to cause them to let it go, and take mine in its place. The arguments I use never fail.'
'That may be,' I replied, 'in matters of little moment. Even in these however, is it not plain, Aurelian, that you cause them not to let go their opinion, but merely to suppress it, or affect to change it? Your power may compel them either to silence, or to an assertion of the very contrary of what they but just before had declared as their belief, but it cannot alter their minds. That is to be done by reason only, not by force.'
'By reason first,' answered the emperor; 'but if that fail, then by force. The ignorant, and the presumptuous, and the mischievous, must be dealt with as we deal with children. If we argue with them, it is a favor. It is our right, as it is better, to command and compel.'
'Only establish it that such and such are ignorant, and erroneous, and presumptuous, and I allow that it would be right to silence them. But that is the very difficulty in the case. How are we to know that they, who think differently from ourselves, are ignorant or erroneous? Surely the fact of the difference is not satisfactory proof.'
'They,' rejoined Aurelian, 'who depart from a certain standard in art are said to err. The thing in this case is of no consequence to any, therefore no punishment ensues. So there is a standard of religion in theState, and they who depart from it may be said to err. But, as religion is essential to the State, they who err should be brought back, by whatever application of force, and compelled to conform to the standard.'
'In what sense,' said Portia, 'can common and ignorant people be regarded as fit judges of what constitutes, or does not constitute, a true religion? It is a subject level scarce to philosophers. If, indeed, the gods should vouchsafe to descend to earth and converse with men, and in that manner teach some new truth, then any one, possessed of eyes and ears, might receive it, and retain it without presumption. Nay, he could not but do so; but not otherwise.'
'Now have you stated,' said I, 'that which constitutes the precise case of Christianity. They who received Christianity in the first instance, did it not by balancing against each other such refined arguments as philosophers use. They were simply judges of matters of fact—of what their eyes beheld, and their ears heard. God did vouchsafe to descend to earth, and, by his messenger, converse with men, and teach new truth. All that men had then to do was this, to see whether the evidence was sufficient that it was a God speaking; and that being made plain, to listen and record. And at this day, all that is to be done is to inquire whether the record be true. If the record be a well-authenticated one of what the mouth of God spoke, it is then adopted as the code of religious truth. As for what the word contains—it requires no acute intellect to judge concerning it—a child may understand it all.'
'Truly,' replied Portia, 'this agrees but ill with what I have heard and believed concerning Christianity. Ithas ever been set forth as a thing full of darkness and mystery, which it requires the most vigorous powers to penetrate and comprehend.'
'So has it ever been presented to me,' added the Emperor. 'I have conceived it to be but some new form of Plato's dreams, neither more clear in itself, nor promising to be of more use to mankind. So, if I err not, the learned Porphyrius has stated it.'
'A good fact,' here interposed Julia, 'is worth more in this argument than the learning of the most learned. Is it not sufficient proof, Aurelian, that Christianity is somewhat sufficiently plain and easy, that women are able to receive it so readily? Take me as an unanswerable argument on the side of Piso.'
'The women of Palmyra,' replied the Emperor, 'as I have good reason to know, are more than the men of other climes. She who reads Plato and the last essays of Plotinus, of a morning, seated idly beneath the shadow of some spreading beech, just as a Roman girl would the last child's story of Spurius about father Tiber and the Milvian Bridge, is not to be received in this question as but a woman, with a woman's powers of judgment. When the women of Rome receive their faith as easily as you do, then may it be held as an argument for its simplicity. But let us now break off the thread of this discourse, too severe for the occasion, and mingle with our other friends, who by this must be arrived.'
So, with these words, we left the apartment where we had been sitting, the Emperor having upon one side Portia, and on the other Livia, and moved toward thegreat central rooms of the palace, where guests are entertained, and the imperial banquets held.
The company was not numerous; it was rather remarkable for its selectness. Among others not less distinguished, there were the venerable Tacitus, the consul Capitolinus, Marcellinus the senator, the prefect Varus, the priest Fronto, the generals Probus and Mucapor, and a few others of the military favorites of Aurelian.
Of the conversation at supper, I remember little or nothing, only that it was free and light, each seeming to enjoy himself and the companion who reclined next to him. Aurelian, with a condescending grace, which no one knows how better to assume than he, urged the wine upon his friends, as they appeared occasionally to forget it, offering frequently some new and unheard of kind, brought from Asia, Greece, or Africa, and which he would exalt to the skies for its flavor. More than once did he, as he is wont to do in his sportive mood, deceive us; for, calling upon us to fill our goblets with what he described as a liquor surpassing all of Italy, and which might serve for Hebe to pour out for the gods, and requiring us to drink it off in honor of Bacchus, Pan, or Ceres, we found, upon lifting our cups to drain them, that they had been charged with some colored and perfumed medicament more sour or bitter than the worst compound of the apothecary, or than massican overheated in the vats. These sallies, coming from the master of the world, were sure to be well received; his satellites, of whom not a few, even on this occasion, were near him, being ready to die with excess of laughter,—the attendant slaves catching the jest, and enjoying itwith noisy vociferation. I laughed with the rest, for it seems wise to propitiate, by any act not absolutely base, one, whose ambitious and cruel nature, unless soothed and appeased by such offerings, is so prone to reveal itself in deeds of darkness.
When the feast was nearly ended, and the attending slaves were employed in loading it for the last time with fruits, olives, and confections, a troop of eunuchs, richly habited, entered the apartment to the sound of flutes and horns, bearing upon a platter of gold an immense bowl or vase of the same material, filled to the brim with wine, which they placed in the centre of the table, and then, at the command of the Emperor, with a ladle of the same precious material and ornamented with gems, served out the wine to the company. At first, as the glittering pageant advanced, astonishment kept us mute, and caused us involuntarily to rise from our couches to watch the ceremony of introducing it, and fixing it in its appointed place. For never before, in Rome, had there been seen, I am sure, a golden vessel of such size, or wrought with art so marvellous. The language of wonder and pleasure was heard, on every side, from every mouth. Even Livia and Julia, who in Palmyra had been used to the goblets and wine-cups of the Eastern Demetrius, showed amazement, not less than the others, at a magnificence and a beauty that surpassed all experience, and all conception. Just above where the bowl was placed, hung the principal light, by which the table and the apartment were illuminated, which, falling in floods upon the wrought or polished metal and the thickly strewed diamonds, caused it to blaze with a splendor which the eyes couldhardly bear, and, till accustomed to it, prevented us from minutely examining the sculpture, that, with lavish profusion and consummate art, glowed and burned upon the pedestal, the swelling sides, the rim and handles of the vase, and covered the broad and golden plain upon which it stood. I, happily, was near it, being seated opposite Aurelian, and on the inner side of the table, which, as the custom now is, was of the form of a bent bow, so that I could study at my leisure the histories and fables that were wrought over its whole surface. Julia and Livia, being also near it on the other side of the table, were in the same manner wholly absorbed in the same agreeable task.
Livia, being quite carried out of herself by this sudden and unexpected splendor—having evidently no knowledge of its approach—like a girl as she still is, in her natural, unpremeditated movements, rose from her couch and eagerly bent forward toward the vase, the better to scan its beauties, saying, as she did so,
'The Emperor must himself stand answerable for all breaches of order under circumstances like these. Good friends, let all, who will, freely approach, and, leaving for a moment that of Bacchus, drink at the fountain of Beauty.' Whereupon all, who were so disposed, gathered round the centre of the table.
'This,' said Varus, 'both for size, and the perfect art lavished upon it, surpasses the glories fabled of the buckler of Minerva, whose fame has reached us.'
'You say right; it does so,' said the Emperor 'That dish of Vitellius was inferior in workmanship, as it was less in weight and size than this, which, before you allI here name "The Cup of Livia." Let us fill again from it, and drink to the Empress of the world.'
All sprang in eager haste to comply with a command that carried with it its own enforcement.
'Whatever,' continued the Emperor, when our cups had been drained, 'may have been the condition of art in other branches of it, in the time of that Emperor, there was no one then whose power over the metals, or whose knowledge of forms, was comparable with that of our own Demetrius; for this, be it known, is the sole work of the Roman—and yet, to speak more truly, it must be said the Greek—Demetrius, aided by his brother from the East, who is now with him. Let the music cease; we need that disturbance no more; and call in the brothers Demetrius. These are men who honor any age, and any presence.'
The brothers soon entered; and never were princes or ambassadors greeted with higher honor. All seemed to contend which should say the most flattering and agreeable thing. 'Slaves,' cried the Emperor, 'a couch and cups for the Demetrii.'
The brothers received all this courtesy with the native ease and dignity which ever accompany true genius. There was no offensive boldness, or presuming vanity, but neither was there any shrinking cowardice nor timidity. They felt that they were men, not less distinguished by the gods, than many or most of those, in whose presence they were, and they were sufficient to themselves. The Roman Demetrius resembles much his brother of Palmyra, but, in both form and countenance, possesses beauty of a higher order. Hislook is contemplative and inward; his countenance pale and yet dark; his features regular and exactly shaped, like a Greek statue; his hair short and black; his dress, as was that of him of Palmyra, of the richest stuffs, showing that wealth had become their reward as well as fame.
'Let us,' cried the Emperor, 'in full cups, drawn from the Livian fount, do honor to ourselves, and the arts, by drinking to the health of Demetrius of Palmyra, and Demetrius of Rome.' Every cup was filled, and drained. 'We owe you thanks,' then added Aurelian, 'that you have completed this great work at the time promised; though I fear it has been to your own cost, for the paleness of your cheeks speaks not of health.'
'The work,' replied the Roman Demetrius, 'could not have been completed but for the timely and effectual aid of my Eastern brother, to whose learned hand, quicker in its execution than my own, you are indebted for the greater part of the sculptures, upon both the bowl and dish.'
'It is true, noble Emperor,' said the impetuous brother, 'my hand is the quicker of the two, and in some parts of this work, especially in whatever pertains to the East, and to the forms of building or of vegetation, or costume seen chiefly or only there, my knowledge was perhaps more exact and minute than his; but, let it be received, that the head that could design these forms and conceive and arrange these histories, and these graceful ornaments—to my mind more fruitful of genius than all else—observe you them? have you scanned them all?—belongs to no other than Demetrius of Rome. In my whole hand, there resides not the skillthat is lodged in one of his fingers;—nor, in my whole head, the power that lies behind one of his eyes.'
The enthusiasm of the Eastern brother called up a smile upon the faces of all, and a blush upon the white cheek of the Roman.
'My brother is younger than I,' he said, 'and his blood runs quicker. All that he says, though it be a picture of the truest heart ever lodged in man, is yet to be taken with abatement. But for him, this work would have been far below its present merit. Let me ask you especially to mark the broad border, where is set forth the late triumph, and ambassadors, captives, and animals of all parts of the earth, especially of the East, are seen in their appropriate forms and habits. That is all from the chisel of my brother. Behold here'—and rising he approached the vase, and vast as it was, by a touch, so was it constructed, turned it round—'behold here, where is figured the Great Queen of—'; in the enthusiasm of art, he had forgotten for a moment to whom he was speaking; for at that instant his eye fell upon the countenance of Julia, who stood near him,—while hers at the same moment caught the regal form of Zenobia, bent beneath the weight of her golden chains—and which he saw cast down by an uncontrollable grief. He paused, confused and grieved—saying, as he turned back the vase, 'Ah me! cruel and indiscreet! Pardon me, noble ladies! and yet I deserve it not.'
'Go on, go on, Demetrius,' said Julia, assuming a cheerful air. 'You offend me not. The course of Empire must have its way; individuals are but emmets in the path. I am now used to this, believe me. It is foryou rather, and the rest, to forgive in me a sudden weakness.'
Demetrius, thus commanded, resumed, and then with minuteness, with much learning and eloquence, discoursed successively upon the histories, or emblematic devices, of this the chief work of his hands. All were sorry when he ceased.
'To what you have overlooked,' said Aurelian, as he paused, 'must I call you back, seeing it is that part of the work which I most esteem, and in which at this moment I and all, I trust, are most interested—the sculptures upon the platter; which represent the new temple and ceremonies of the dedication, which to-morrow we celebrate.'
'Of this,' replied Demetrius, 'I said less, because perhaps the work is inferior, having been committed, our time being short, to the hands of a pupil—a pupil, however, I beg to say, who, if the Divine Providence spare him, will one day, and that not a remote one, cast a shadow upon his teachers.'
'That will he,' said the brother; 'Flaccus is full of the truest inspiration.'
'But to the dedication—the dedication,' interrupted the hoarse voice of Fronto.
Demetrius started, and shrunk backward a step at that sound, but instantly recovered himself, and read into an intelligible language many of the otherwise obscure and learned details of the work. As he ended, the Emperor said,
'We thank you, Demetrius, for your learned lecture, which has given a new value to your labors. And now,while it is in my mind, let me bespeak, as soon as leisure and inclination shall serve, a silver statue, gilded, of Apollo, for the great altar, which to-morrow will scarce be graced with such a one as will agree with the temple and its other ornaments.'
Demetrius, as this was uttered, again started, and his countenance became of a deadly paleness. He hesitated a moment, as if studying how to order his words so as to express least offensively an offensive truth. On the instant, I suspected what the truth was; but I was wholly unprepared for it. I had received no intimation of such a thing.
'Great Emperor,' he began, 'I am sorry to say—and yet not sorry—that I cannot now, as once, labor for the decoration of the temples and their worship. I am—'
'Ye gods of Rome!—' cried Fronto.
'Peace,' said the Emperor; 'let him be heard. How say you?'
'I am now a Christian; and I hold it not lawful to bestow my power and skill in the workmanship of gods, in whom I believe not, and thus become the instrument of an erroneous faith in others.'
This was uttered firmly, but with modesty. The countenance of the Emperor was overclouded for a moment. But it partially cleared up again, as he said, 'I lay not, Demetrius, the least constraint upon you. The four years that I have held this power in Rome have been years of freedom to my people in this respect. Whether I have done well in that, for our city and the empire, many would doubt. I almost doubt myself.'
'That would they, by Hercules,' said the soft voice of Varus just at my ear, and intended chiefly for me.
'My brother,' said Demetrius, 'will be happy to execute for the Emperor, the work which he has been pleased to ask of me. He remains steadfast in the faith in which he was reared; the popular faith of Athens.'
'Apollo,' said Demetrius of Palmyra 'is my especial favorite among all the gods, and of him have I wrought more statues in silver, gold, or ivory, or of these variously and curiously combined, than of all the others. If I should be honored in this labor, I should request to be permitted to adopt the marble image, now standing in the baths of Caracalla, and once, it is said, the chief wonder of Otho's palace of wonders, as a model after which, with some deviations, to mould it. I think I could make that, that should satisfy Aurelian and Rome.'
'Do it, do it,' said the Emperor,' and let it be seen, that the worshipper of his country's gods is not behind him, who denies them, in his power to do them honor.'
'I shall not sleep,' said the artist, 'till I have made a model, in wax at least, of what at this moment presents itself to my imagination.' Saying which, with little ceremony—as if the Empire depended upon his reaching, on the instant, his chalk and wax, and to the infinite amusement of the company—he rose and darted from the apartment, the slaves making way, as for a missile that it might be dangerous to obstruct.
'But in what way,' said Aurelian, turning to the elder Demetrius, 'have you been wrought upon to abandon the time-honored religion of Rome? Methinks, the whole world is becoming of this persuasion.'
'If I may speak freely—'
'With utmost freedom,' said Aurelian.
'I may then say, that ever since the power to reflect upon matters so deep and high had been mine, I had first doubted the truth of the popular religion, and then soon rejected it, as what brought to me neither comfort nor hope, and was also burdened with things essentially incredible and monstrous. For many years, many weary years—for the mind demands something positive in this quarter, it cannot remain in suspense, and vacant—I was without belief. Why it was so long, before I turned to the Christians, I know not; unless, because of the reports which were so common to their disadvantage, and the danger which has so often attended a profession of their faith. At length, in a fortunate hour, there fell into my hands the sacred books of the Christians; and I needed little besides to show me, that theirs is a true and almighty faith, and that all that is current in the city to its dishonor is false and calumnious. I am now happy, not only as an artist and a Roman, but as a man and an immortal.'
'You speak earnestly,' said Aurelian.
'I feel so,' replied Demetrius; a generous glow lighting up his pale countenance.
'Would,' rejoined the Emperor, 'that some of the zeal of these Christians might be infused into the sluggish spirits of our own people. The ancient faith suffers through neglect, and the prevailing impiety of those who are its disciples.'
'May it not rather be,' said Fronto, 'that the ancient religion of the State, having so long been neglected by those who are its appointed guardians, to the extent thateven Judaism, and now Christianity—which are but disguised forms of Atheism—have been allowed to insinuate, and intrench themselves in the Empire; the gods, now in anger, turn away from us, who have been so unfaithful to ourselves; and thus this plausible impiety is permitted to commit its havocs. I believe the gods are ever faithful to the faithful.'
'What good citizen, too,' added Varus, 'but must lament to witness the undermining, and supplanting of those venerable forms, under which this universal empire has grown to its present height of power? He is scarcely a Roman who denies the gods of Rome, however observant he may be of her laws and other institutions. Religion is her greatest law.'
'These are hard questions,' said the Emperor. 'For, know you not, that some of our noblest, and fairest, and most beloved, have written themselves followers of this Gallilean God? How can we deal sharply with a people, at whose head stands the chief of the noble house of the Pisos, and a princess of the blood of Palmyra?'
Although Aurelian uttered these words in a manner almost sportive to the careless ear, yet I confess myself to have noticed at the moment, an expression of the countenance, and a tone in the voice, which gave me uneasiness. I was about to speak, when the venerable Tacitus addressed the Emperor, and said,
'I can never think it wise to interfere with violence, in the matter of men's worship. It is impossible, I believe, to compel mankind to receive any one institution of religion, because different tribes of men, different by nature and by education, will and do demand, not the same, but different forms of belief and worship. Whyshould they be alike in this, while they separate so widely in other matters? and can it be a more hopeful enterprise to oblige them to submit to the same rules in their religion, than it would be to compel them to feed on the same food, and use the same forms of language or dress? I know that former emperors have thought and acted differently. They have deemed it a possible thing to restore the ancient unity of worship, by punishing with severity, by destroying the lives even, of such as should dare to think for themselves. But their conduct is not to be defended, either as right in itself or best for the state. It has not been just or wise, as policy. For is it not evident, how oppression of those who believe themselves to be possessed of truth important to mankind, serves but to bind them the more closely to their opinions? Are they, for a little suffering, to show themselves such cowards as to desert their own convictions, and prove false to the interests of multitudes? Rather, say they, let us rejoice, in such a cause, to bear reproach. This is the language of our nature. Nay, such persons come to prize suffering, to make it a matter of pride and boasting. Their rank among themselves is, by and by, determined by the readiness with which they offer themselves as sacrifices for truth and God. Are such persons to be deterred by threats, or the actual infliction of punishment?'
'The error has been,' here said the evil-boding Fronto, 'that the infliction of punishment went not to the extent that is indispensable to the success of such a work. The noble Piso will excuse me; we are but dealing with abstractions. Oppress those who are inerror, only to a certain point, not extreme, and it is most true they cling the closer to their error. We see this in the punishment of children. Their obstinacy and pride are increased, by a suffering which is slight, and which seems to say to the parent, 'He is too timid, weak, or loving, to inflict more.' So too with our slaves. Whose slaves ever rose a second time against the master's authority, whose first offence, however slight, was met, not by words or lashes, but by racks and the cross?'
'Nay, good Fronto, hold; your zeal for the gods bears you away beyond the bounds of courtesy.'
'Forgive me then, great sovereign, and you who are here—if you may; but neither time nor place shall deter me, a minister of the great god of light, from asserting the principles upon which his worship rests, and, as I deem, the Empire itself. Under Decius, had true Romans sat on the tribunals; had no hearts, too soft for such offices, turned traitors to the head; had no accursed spirit of avarice received the bribes which procured security, to individuals, families, and communities; had there been no commutations of punishment, then—'
'Peace, I say, Fronto; thou marrest the spirit of the hour. How came we thus again to this point? Such questions are for the Council-room or the Senate. Yet, truth to say, so stirred seems the mind of this whole people in the matter, that, in battle, one may as well escape from the din of clashing arms, or the groans of the dying, as, in Rome, avoid this argument. Nay, by my sword, not a voice can I hear, either applauding, disputing, or condemning, since I have set onfoot this new war in the East. Once, the city would have rung with acclamations, that an army was gathering for such an enterprise. Now, it seems quite forgotten that Valerian once fell, or that, late though it be, he ought to be avenged. This Jewish and Christian argument fills all heads, and clamors on every tongue. Come, let us shake off this dæmon in a new cup, and drink deep to the revenge of Valerian.'
'And of the gods,' ejaculated Fronto, as he lifted the goblet to his lips.
'There again?' quickly and sharply demanded Aurelian, bending his dark brows upon the offender.
'Doubtless,' said Portia, 'he means well, though over zealous, and rash in speech. His heart, I am sure, seconds not the cruel language of his tongue. So at least I will believe; and, in the meantime, hope, that the zeal he has displayed for the ancient religion of our country, may not be without its use upon some present, who, with what I trust will prove a brief truancy, have wandered from their household gods, and the temples of their fathers.'
'May the gods grant it,' added Livia; 'and restore the harmony, which should reign in our families, and in the capital. Life is over brief to be passed in quarrel. Now let us abandon our cups. Sir Christian Piso! lead me to the gardens, and let the others follow as they may our good example.'
The gardens we found, as we passed from the palace, to be most brilliantly illuminated with lamps of every form and hue. We seemed suddenly to have passed to another world, so dream-like was the effect of the multitudinous lights as they fell with white, red, lurid,or golden glare, upon bush or tree, grotto, statue, or marble fountain.
'Forget here, Lucius Piso,' said the kind-hearted Livia, 'what you have just heard from the lips of that harsh bigot, the savage Fronto. Who could have looked for such madness! Not again, if I possess the power men say I do, shall he sit at the table of Aurelian. Poor Julia too! But see! she walks with Tacitus. Wisdom and mercy are married in him, and both will shed comfort on her.'
'I cannot but lament,' I replied, 'that a creature like Fronto should have won his way so far into the confidence of Aurelian. But I fear him not; and do not believe that he will have power to urge the Emperor to the adoption of measures, to which his own wisdom and native feelings must stand opposed. The rage of such men as Fronto, and the silent pity and scorn of men immeasurably his superiors, we have now learned to bear without complaint, though not without some inward suffering. To be shut out from the hearts of so many, who once ran to meet us on our approach; nor only that, but to be held by them as impious and atheistical, monsters whom the earth is sick of, and whom the gods are besought to destroy—this is a part of our burden which we feel to be heaviest. Heaven preserve to us the smiles, and the love of Livia.'
'Doubt not that they will ever be yours. But I trust that sentiments, like those of Tacitus, will bear sway in the councils of Aurelian, and that the present calm will not be disturbed.'
Thus conversing, we wandered on, beguiled by such talk, and the attractive splendors of the garden, till wefound ourselves separated, apparently by some distance, from our other friends; none passed us, and none met us. We had reached a remote and solitary spot, where fewer lamps had been hung, and the light was faint and unequal. Not sorry to be thus alone, we seated ourselves on the low pedestal of a group of statuary—once the favorite resort of the fair and false Terentia—whose forms could scarcely be defined, and which was enveloped, at a few paces distant, with shrubs and flowers, forming a thin wall of partition between us and another walk, corresponding to the one we were in, but winding away in a different direction. We had sat not long, either silent or conversing, ere our attention was caught by the sound of approaching voices, apparently in earnest discourse. A moment, and we knew them to be those of Fronto, and Aurelian.
'By the gods, his life shall answer it,' said Aurelian with vehemence, but with suppressed tones; 'who but he was to observe the omens? Was I to know, that to-day is the Ides, and to-morrow the day after? The rites must be postponed.'
'It were better not, in my judgment,' said Fronto, 'all the other signs are favorable. Never, Papirius assured me, did the sacred chickens seize so eagerly the crumbs. Many times, as he closely watched, did he observe them—which is rare—drop them from their mouths overfilled. The times he has exactly recorded. A rite like this put off, when all Rome is in expectation, would, in the opinion of all the world, be of a more unfavorable interpretation, than if more than the day were against us.'
'You counsel well. Let it go on.'
'But to ensure a fortunate event, and propitiate the gods, I would early, and before the august ceremonies, offer the most costly and acceptable sacrifice.'
'That were well also. In the prisons there are captives of Germany, of Gaul, of Egypt, and Palmyra. Take what and as many as you will. If we ever make sure of the favor of the gods, it is when we offer freely that which we hold at the highest price.'
'I would rather they were Christians,' urged Fronto.
'That cannot be,' said Aurelian. 'I question if there be a Christian within the prison walls; and, were there hundreds, it is not a criminal I would bring to the altar, I would as soon offer a diseased or ill-shaped bull.'
'But it were an easy matter to seize such as we might want. Not, O Aurelian, till this accursed race is exterminated, will the heavens smile as formerly upon our country. Why are the altars thus forsaken? Why are the temples no longer thronged as once? Why do the great, and the rich, and the learned, silently withhold their aid, or openly scoff and jeer? Why are our sanctuaries crowded only by the scum and refuse of the city?'
'I know not. Question me not thus.'
'Is not the reason palpable and gross to the dullest mind? Is it not because of the daily growth of this blaspheming and atheistical crew, who, by horrid arts seduce the young, the timid, and above all the women, who ever draw the world with them, to join them in their unhallowed orgies, thus stripping the temples of their worshippers, and dragging the gods themselvesfrom their seats? Think you the gods look on with pleasure while their altars and temples are profaned or abandoned, and a religion, that denies them, rears itself upon their ruins?'
'I know not. Say no more.'
'Is it possible, religion or the state should prosper, while he, who is not only Vicegerent of the gods, Universal Monarch, but what is more, their sworn Pontifex Maximus, connives at the existence and dissemination of the most dangerous opinions—'
'Thou liest.'
'Harboring even beneath the imperial roof, and feasting at the imperial table, the very heads and chief ministers of this black mischief—'
'Hold, I say. I swear by all the gods, known and unknown, that another word, and thy head shall answer it. Is my soul that of a lamb, that I need this stirring up to deeds of blood? Am I so lame and backward, when the gods are to be defended, that I am to be thus charged? Let the lion sleep when he will; chafed too much, and he may spring and slay at random. I love not the Christians, nor any who flout the gods and their worship—that thou knowest well. But I love Piso, Aurelia, and the divine Julia—that thou knowest as well. Now no more.'