Aurelian; or Rome in the Third Century Read online

  LETTER I.

  FROM PISO TO FAUSTA.

  I am not surprised, Fausta, that you complain of my silence. It werestrange indeed if you did not. But as for most of our misdeeds we haveexcuses ready at hand, so have I for this. First of all, I was notignorant, that, however I might fail you, from your other greater friendyou would experience no such neglect; but on the contrary would besupplied with sufficient fulness and regularity, with all that could beworth knowing, concerning either our public or private affairs. For hersake, too, I was not unwilling, that at first the burden of thiscorrespondence, if I may so term it, should rest where it has, since ithas afforded, I am persuaded, a pleasure, and provided an occupationthat could have been found nowhere else. Just as a flood of tears bringsrelief to a bosom laboring under a heavy sorrow, so has this pouring outof herself to you in frequent letters, served to withdraw the mind ofthe Queen from recollections, which, dwelt upon as they were at first,would soon have ended that life in which all ours seem bound up.

  Then again, if you accept the validity of this excuse, I have another,which, as a woman, you will at once allow the force of. You will notdeem it a better one than the other, but doubtless as good. It is this:that for a long time I have been engaged in taking possession of my newdwelling upon the Coelian, not far from that of Portia. Of this youmay have heard, in the letters which have reached you; but that will notprevent me from describing to you, with more exactness than any othercan have done it, the home of your old and fast friend, Lucius ManliusPiso; for I think it adds greatly to the pleasure with which we think ofan absent friend, to be able to see, as in a picture, the form andmaterial and position of the house he inhabits, and even the very aspectand furniture of the room in which he is accustomed to pass the most ofhis time. This to me is a satisfaction greater than you can wellconceive, when, in my ruminating hours, which are many, I return toPalmyra, and place myself in the circle with Gracchus, Calpurnius, andyourself. Your palace having now been restored to its former condition,I know where to find you at the morning, noon, and evening hour; theonly change you have made in the former arrangements being this: thatwhereas when I was your guest, your private apartments occupied theeastern wing of the palace, they are now in the western, once mine,which I used then to maintain were the most agreeable and noble of all.The prospects which its windows afford of the temple, and the distantpalace of the queen, and of the evening glories of the setting sun, aremore than enough to establish its claims to an undoubted superiority;and if to these be added the circumstance, that for so long a time theRoman Piso was their occupant, the case is made out beyond allperadventure.

  But I am describing your palace rather than my own. You must remember mypaternal seat on the southern declivity of the hill, overlooking thecourse of the Tiber as it winds away to the sea. Mine is not far fromit, but on the northern side of the hill, and thereby possessing asituation more favorable to comfort, during the heats of summer--Iloving the city, as you well know, better if anything during the summerthan the winter months. Standing upon almost the highest point of thehill, it commands a wide and beautiful prospect, especially toward thenorth and east, the eye shooting over the whole expanse of city andsuburbs, and then resting upon the purple outline of the distantmountains. Directly before me are the magnificent structures which crownthe Esquiline, conspicuous among which, and indeed eminent over all, arethe Baths of Titus. Then, as you will conjecture, the eye takes in thePalatine and Capitol hills, catching, just beyond the last, the swellingdome of the Pantheon, which seems rather to rise out of, and crown, theFlavian Amphitheatre, than its own massy walls. Then, far in thehorizon, we just discern the distant summits of the Appenines, broken bySoracte and the nearer hills.

  The principal apartments are on the northern side of the palace, openingupon a portico of Corinthian columns, running its entire length andwhich would not disgrace Palmyra itself. At the eastern extremity, arethe rooms common to the family; in the centre, a spacious hall, in theadorning of which, by every form of art, I have exhausted my knowledgeand taste in such things; and at the western extremity, my library,where at this moment I sit, and where I have gathered around me all inletters and art that I most esteem. This room I have decorated formyself and Julia--not for others. Whatever has most endeared itself toour imaginations, our minds, or our hearts, has here its home. The booksthat have most instructed or amused; the statuary that most raises anddelights us; the pictures on which we most love to dwell; theantiquities that possess most curiosity or value, are here arranged, andin an order that would satisfy, I believe, even your fastidious taste.

  I will not weary you with any more minute account of my new dwelling,leaving that duty to the readier pen of Julia. Yet I cannot relieve youtill I have spoken of two of the statues which occupy the mostconspicuous niche in the library. You will expect me to name Socratesand Plato, or Numa and Seneca--these are all there, but it is not ofeither of them that I would speak. They are the venerable founders ofthe Jewish and Christian religions, MOSES and CHRIST. These statues, ofthe purest marble, stand side by side, at one extremity of theapartment; and immediately before them, and within the wondrous sphereof their influences stands the table at which I write, and where Ipursue my inquiries in philosophy and religion. You smile at myenthusiasm, Fausta, and wonder when I shall return to the calm sobrietyof my ancient faith. In this wonder there are a thousand errors--but ofthese hereafter. I was to tell you of these sculptures. Of the statue ofMoses, I possess no historical account, and know not what its claim maybe to truth. I can only say, it is a figure truly grand, and almostterrific. It is of a size larger than life, and expresses no sentimentso perfectly as authority--the authority of a rigorous and austereruler--both in the attitude of the body and the features of thecountenance. The head is slightly raised and drawn back, as iflistening, awe-struck, to a communication from the God who commissionedhim, while his left hand supports a volume, and his right grasps astylus, with which, when the voice has ceased, to record thecommunicated truth. Place in his hands the thunderbolt, and at his feetthe eagle, and the same form would serve for Jupiter the Thunderer,except only that to the countenance of the Jewish prophet there has beenimparted a rapt and inspired look, wholly beyond any that even Phidiascould have fixed upon the face of Jove. He who wrought this head musthave believed in the sublimities of the religion whose chief minister hehas made so to speak them forth, in the countenance and in the form; andyet who has ever heard of a Jew sculptor?

  The statue of Christ is of a very different character; as different asthe Christian faith is from that of the Jewish, notwithstanding they arestill by many confounded. I cannot pretend to describe to you the holybeauty that as it were constitutes this perfect work of art. If you askwhat authority tradition has invested it with, I can only say that I donot know. All I can affirm with certainty, is this, that it once stoodin the palace of Alexander Severus, in company with the images of otherdeified men and gods, whom he chiefly reverenced. When that excellentprince had fallen under the blows of assassins, his successor andmurderer, Maximin, having little knowledge or taste for what was foundin the palace of Alexander, those treasures were sold, and the statue ofChrist came into the hands of a distinguished and wealthy Christian ofthat day, who, perishing in the persecution of Decius, his descendantsbecame impoverished, and were compelled to part with even this sacredrelic of their former greatness. From them I purchased it; and often arethey to be seen, whenever for such an object they can steal away fromnecessary cares, standing before it and renewing, as it would seem,their vows of obedience, in the presence of the founder of their faith.The room is free to their approach, whenever they are thus impelled.

  The expression of this statue, I have said, is wholly different fromthat of the Hebrew. His is one of authority and of sternness; this ofgentleness and love. Christ is represented, like the Moses, in a sittingposture, with a countenance, not like his raised to Heaven, but bentwith looks somewhat sad and yet full of benevolence, as if upon personsstanding before him.
Fraternity, I think, is the idea you associate withit most readily. I should never suppose him to be a judge or censor, orarbitrary master, but rather an elder brother; elder in the sense ofwiser, holier, purer; whose look is not one of reproach that others arenot as himself, but of pity and desire; and whose hand would rather bestretched forth to lift up the fallen than to smite the offender. Tocomplete this expression, and inspire the beholder with perfectconfidence, the left hand rests upon a little child, who stands withfamiliar reverence at his knee, and looking up into his face seems tosay, 'No evil can come to me here.'

  Opposite this, and at the other extremity of the apartment, hangs apicture of Christ, representing him in very exact accordance with thetraditional accounts of his features and form, a description of whichexists, and is held by most authentic, in a letter of Publius Lentulus,a Roman of the same period. Between this and the statue there is aclose resemblance, or as close as we usually see between two heads ofCaesar, or of Cicero. Marble, however, is the only material that suitsthe character and office of Jesus of Nazareth. Color, and its minuteeffects, seem in some sort to degrade the subject. I retain the picturebecause of its supposed truth.

  Portia, as you will believe, is full of wonder and sorrow at thesethings. Soon after my library had received its last additions, my mothercame to see what she had already heard of so much. As she entered theapartment, I was sitting in my accustomed seat, with Julia at my side,and both of us gazing in admiration at the figures I have justdescribed. We were both too much engrossed to notice the entrance ofPortia, our first warning of her presence being her hand laid upon myhead. We rose and placed her between us.

  'My son,' said she, looking intently as she spoke upon the statuesbefore us, 'what strange looking figures are these? That upon my leftmight serve for Jupiter, but for the roll and the stylus. And why placeyou beings of character so opposite, as these appear to have been, sideby side? This other upon my right--ah, how beautiful it is! Whatmildness in those eyes, and what a divine repose over the form, which noevent, not the downfall of a kingdom nor its loss, would seem capable todisturb. Is it the peace loving Numa?'

  'Not so,' said Julia; 'there stands Numa, leaning on the sacred shield,from the centre of which beams the countenance of the divine Egeria.'

  'Yes, I see it,' replied Portia; and rising from her seat, she stoodgazing round the apartment, examining its various appointments. When hereye had sought out the several objects, and dwelt upon them a moment,she said, in tones somewhat reproachful, as much so as it is in hernature to assume:

  'Where, Lucius, are the gods of Rome? Do those who have, through so manyages, watched over our country, and guarded our house, deserve no honorat your hands? Does not gratitude require at least that their imagesshould be here, so that, whether you yourself worship them or not, theirpresence may inspire others with reverence? But alas for the times!Piety seems dead; or, with the faith that inspires it, it lives, but ina few, who will soon disappear, and religion with them. Whose forms arethese, Lucius? concerning one I can now easily surmise--but the other,this stern and terrific man, who is he?'

  'That,' I replied, 'is Moses, the founder of Judaism.'

  'Immortal gods!' exclaimed Portia, 'the statue of a Jew in the halls ofthe Pisos! Well may it be that Rome approaches her decline, when herelder sons turn against her.'

  'Nay, my mother, I am not a Jew.'

  'I would thou wert, rather than be what I suppose thou art, a Christian.The Jew, Lucius, can boast of antiquity, at least, in behalf of hisreligion. But the faith which you would profess and extend, is but ofyesterday. Would the gods ever leave mankind without religion? Is itonly to-day that they reveal the truth? Have they left us for these manyages to grope along in error? Never, Lucius, can I believe it. It isenough for me that the religion of Rome is old as Rome, to endear it tomy heart, and commend it to my understanding. It is not for the firsttime, to-day, that the gods have spoken.'

  'But, my dear mother,' I rejoined, 'if age makes truth, there are olderreligions than this of Rome. Judaism itself is older, by many centuries.But it is not because a religion is new or old, that I would receive orreject it.' The only question is, does it satisfy my heart and mind, andis it true? The faith which you engrafted upon my infant mind, fails tomeet the wants of my nature, and upon looking for its foundations, Ifind them not.'

  'Is thy nature different from mine, Lucius? Surely, thou art my ownchild! It has satisfied me and my nature. I ask for nothing else, orbetter.'

  'There are some natures, mother, by the gods so furnished and filledwith all good desires and affections, that their religion is born withthem and is in them. It matters little under what outward form andadministration of truth they dwell; no system could injure them--nonewould greatly benefit. They are of the family of God, by birth, and arenever disinherited.'

  'Yes, Portia,' said Julia, 'natural and divine instincts make you whatothers can become only through the powerful operation of some principleout of, and superior to, anything they find within. For me, I know notwhat I should have been, without the help which Christianity hasafforded. I might have been virtuous, but I could not have been happy.You surely rejoice, when the weak find that in any religion orphilosophy which gives them strength. Look, Portia, at that serene andbenignant countenance, and can you believe that any truth ever camefrom its lips, but such as must be most comforting and exalting to thosewho receive it?'

  'It would seem so indeed, my child,' replied Portia, musingly, 'and Iwould not deprive any of the comforts or strength which any principlemay impart. But I cannot cease to think it dangerous to the state, whenthe faith of the founders of Rome is abandoned by those who fill itshighest places. You who abound in leisure and learning, may satisfyyourselves with a new philosophy; but what shall these nice refinementsprofit the common herd? How shall they see them to be true, orcomprehend them? The Romans have ever been a religious people; andalthough under the empire the purity of ancient manners is lost, let itnot be said that the Pisos were among those who struck the last andhardest blows at the still stout root of the tree that bore them.'

  'Nothing can be more plain or intelligible,' I replied, 'than theprinciples of the Christian religion; and wherever it has been preachedwith simplicity and power, even the common people have readily andgratefully adopted it. I certainly cannot but desire that it mayprevail. If any thing is to do it, I believe this is the power that isto restore, and in a still nobler form, the ancient manners of which youspeak. It is from Christianity that in my heart I believe the youthfulblood is to come, that being poured into the veins of this dying state,shall reproduce the very vigor and freshness of its early age. Rome, mymother, is now but a lifeless trunk--a dead and loathsome corpse--a newand warmer current must be infused, or it will soon crumble into dust.'

  'I grieve, Lucius, to see you lost to the good cause of your country,and to the altars of her gods; for who can love his country, and denythe gods who made and preserve it? But then who am I to condemn? When Isee the gods to hurl thunderbolts upon those who flout them, it will betime enough for us mortals to assume the robes of judgment. I will hopethat farther thought will reclaim you from your truant wanderings.'

  Do not imagine, Fausta, that conversations like this have the leasteffect to chill the warm affections of Portia towards us both. Naturehas placed within her bosom a central heat, that not only preserves herown warmth, but diffuses itself upon all who approach her, and changestheir affections into a likeness of her own. We speak of our differingfaiths, but love none the less. When she had paused a moment afteruttering the last words, she again turned her eye upon the statue ofChrist, and, captivated by its wondrous power, she dwelt upon it in amanner that showed her sensibilities to be greatly moved. At length shesuddenly started, saying:

  'If truth and beauty were the same thing, one need but to look upon thisand be a believer. But as in the human form and face, beauty is oftenbut a lie, covering over a worse deformity than any that ever disfiguresthe body, so it may be here. I cannot but ad
mire and love the beauty; itwill be wise, I suppose, not to look farther, lest the dream bedissolved.'

  'Be not afraid of that, dearest mother; I can warrant you againstdisappointment. If in that marble you have the form of the outwardbeauty, here, in this roll, you will find the inward moral beauty ofwhich it is the shrine.'

  'Nay, nay, Lucius, I look no farther or deeper. I have seen too muchalready.'

  With these words, she arose, and we accompanied her to the portico,where we walked, and sat, and talked of you, and Calpurnius, andGracchus.

  Thus you perceive I have told you first of what chiefly interestsmyself: now let me turn to what at this moment more than everything elsefills all heads in Rome--and that is Livia. She is the object ofuniversal attention, the centre of all honor. It is indescribable, thesensation her beauty, and now added to that, her magnificence, have madeand still make in Rome. Her imperial bearing would satisfy even you; andthe splendor of her state exceeds all that has been known before. Thisyou may be surprised to hear, knowing what the principles of Aurelianhave been in such things; how strict he has been himself in a more thanrepublican simplicity, and how severe upon the extravagances andluxuries of others, in the laws he has enacted. You must remember hisprohibition of the use of cloth of gold and of silk, among otherthings--foolish laws to be suddenly promulged among so vain and corrupta population as this of Rome. They have been the ridicule and scorn ofrich and poor alike; of the rich, because they are so easily violated inprivate, or evaded by the substitution of one article for another; ofthe poor, because, being slaves in spirit, they take a slave's pride inthe trappings and state of their masters; they love not only to feel butto see their superiority. But since the eastern expedition, thereduction of Palmyra, and the introduction from abroad of the vast floodof foreign luxuries which has inundated Rome and Italy itself theprinciples and the habits of the Emperor have undergone a mightyrevolution. Now, the richness and costliness of his dress, the splendorof his equipage, the gorgeousness of his furniture, cannot be made tocome up to the height of his extravagant desires. The silk which he oncedenied to the former Empress for a dress, now, variously embroidered,and of every dye, either hangs in ample folds upon the walls, orcanopies the royal bed, or lends its beauty to the cushioned seats whicheverywhere, in every form of luxurious ease, invite to repose. Gold,too, once prohibited, but now wrought into every kind of cloth, or solidin shape of dish, or vase, or cup, or spread in sheets over the verywalls and ceilings of the palace, has rendered the traditions of Nero'shouse of gold no longer fabulous. The customs of the eastern monarchshave also elevated or perverted the ambition of Aurelian, and one afteranother are taking place of former usages. He is every day moredifficult of access, and surrounds himself, his palaces, and apartments,by guards and officers of state. In all this, as you will readilybelieve, Livia is his willing companion, or rather, I should perhapssay, his prompting and ruling genius. As without the world at her feet,it would be impossible for her insane pride to be fully satisfied, so inall that is now done, the Emperor still lags behind her will. Butbeautifully, it can be denied by none, does she become her greatness,and gives more lustre than she receives, to all around her. Gold isdoubly gold in her presence; and even the diamond sparkles with a newbrilliancy on her brow or sandal.

  Livia is, of all women I have ever seen or known; made for a Romanempress. I used to think so when in Palmyra, and I saw her, so often asI did, assuming the port and air of imaginary sovereignty. And now thatI behold her filling the very place for which by nature she is mostperfectly fitted, I cannot but confess that she surpasses all I hadimagined, in the genius she displays for her great sphere, both as wifeof Aurelian, and sovereign of Rome. Her intellect shows itself strongerthan I had believed it to be, and secures for her the homage of a classwho could not be subdued by her magnificence, extraordinary as it is.They are captivated by the brilliancy of her wit, set off by herunequalled beauty, and, for a woman, by her rare attainments, and hoveraround her as some superior being. Then for the mass of our rich andnoble, her ostentatious state and imperial presence are all that theycan appreciate, all they ask for, and more than enough to enslave them,not only to her reasonable will, but to all her most tyrannical andwhimsical caprices. She understands already perfectly the people she isamong; and through her quick sagacity, has already risen to a powergreater than woman ever before held in Rome.

  We see her often--often as ever--and when we see her, enjoy her as well.For with all her ambition of petty rule and imposing state, shepossesses and retains a goodness of heart, that endears her to all, inspite of her follies. Julia is still her beloved Julia, and I her goodfriend Lucius; but it is to Zenobia that she attaches herself mostclosely; and from her she draws most largely of the kind of inspirationwhich she covets. It is to her, too, I believe, that we may trace muchof the admirable wisdom--for such it must be allowed to be--with whichLivia adorns the throne of the world.

  Her residence, when Aurelian is absent from the city, is near us in thepalace upon the Palatine; but when he is here, it is more remote, in theenchanted gardens of Sallust. This spot, first ennobled by the presenceof the great historian, to whose hand and eye of taste the chiefbeauties of the scene are to be traced, then afterward selected byVespasian as an imperial villa, is now lately become the chosen retreatof Aurelian. It has indeed lost a part of its charms since it has beenembraced, by the extension of the new walls, within the limits of thecity; but enough remain to justify abundantly the preference of a lineof emperors. It is there that we see Livia most as we have been used todo, and where are forcibly brought to our minds the hours passed by usso instructively in the gardens of Zenobia. Often Aurelian is of ourcompany, and throws the light of his strong intellect upon whateversubject it is we discuss. He cannot, however, on such occasions,thoroughly tame to the tone of gentle society, his imperious and almostrude nature. The peasant of Pannonia will sometimes break through, andusurp the place of emperor; but it is only for a moment; for it ispleasing to note how the presence of Livia quickly restores him tohimself; when, with more grace than one would look for, he acknowledgeshis fault, ascribing it sportively to the fogs of the German marshes. Itamuses us to observe the power which the polished manners and courtlyways of Livia exercise over Aurelian, whose ambition seems now asviolently bent upon subduing the world by the displays of taste, grace,and magnificence, as it once was to do it--and is still indeed--by forceof arms. Having astonished mankind in one way, he would astonish themagain in quite another; and to this later task his whole nature isconsecrated with as entire a devotion as ever it was to the other. Liviais in all these things his model and guide; and never did soldier learnto catch, from the least motion or sign of the general, his will, thandoes he, to the same end, study the countenance and the voice of theEmpress. Yet is there, as you will believe knowing the character ofAurelian as well as you do, nothing mean nor servile in this. He is everhimself, and beneath this transparent surface, artificially assumed, youbehold, feature for feature, the lineaments of the fierce soldierglaring forth in all their native wildness and ferocity. Yet we arehappy that there exists any charm potent enough to calm, but for hoursor days, a nature so stern and cruel as to cause perpetual fears for theviolences in which at any moment it may break out. The late slaughter inthe very streets of Rome, when the Coelian ran with the blood offifteen thousand Romans, butchered within sight of their own homes, withthe succeeding executions, naturally fill us with apprehensions for thefuture. We call him generous, and magnanimous, and so he is, comparedwith former tyrants who have polluted the throne--Tiberius, Commodus, orMaximin; but what title has he to that praise, when tried by thestandard which our own reason supplies of those great virtues? I confessit was not always so. His severity was formerly ever on the side ofjustice; it was indignation at crime or baseness which sometimes broughtupon him the charge of cruelty--never the wanton infliction of sufferingand death. But it certainly is not so now. A slight cause now rouseshis sleeping passions to a sudden fury, often fatal to the
first objectthat comes in his way. But enough of this.

  Do not forget to tell me again of the Old Hermit of the mountains, andthat you have visited him--if indeed he be yet among the living.

  Even with your lively imagination, Fausta, you can hardly form an ideaof the sensation which my open assertion of Christian principles andassumption of the Christian name has made in Rome. I intended when I satdown to speak only of this, but see how I have been led away! My letterswill be for the most part confined, I fear, to the subjects whichengross both myself and Julia most--such as relate to the condition andprospects of the new religion, and to the part which we take in therevolution which is going on. Not that I shall be speechless upon otherand inferior topics, but that upon this of Christianity I shall begarrulous and overflowing. I believe that in doing this, I shall consultyour preferences as well as my own. I know you to be desirous ofprinciples better than any which as yet you have been able to discover,and that you will gladly learn whatever I may have it in my power toteach you from this quarter. But all the teaching I shall attempt willbe to narrate events as they occur, and state facts as they arise, andleave them to make what impression they may.

  When I just spoke of the sensation which my adoption of the Christiansystem had caused in Rome, I did not mean to convey any idea like this,that it has been rare for the intelligent and cultivated to attachthemselves to this despised religion. On the contrary, it would be truewere I to say, that they who accept Christianity, are distinguished fortheir intelligence; that estimated as a class, they rank far above thelowest. It is not the dregs of a people who become reformers ofphilosophy or religion; who grow dissatisfied with ancient opinions uponexalted subjects, and search about for better, and adopt them. Theprocesses involved in this change, in their very nature, requireintelligence, and imply a character of more than common elevation. It isneither the lowest nor the highest who commence, and at first carry on,a work like this; but those who fill the intermediate spaces. The lowestare dead as brute matter to such interests; the highest--the rich, thefashionable, the noble, from opposite causes just as dead; or if theyare alive at all, it is with the rage of denunciation and opposition.They are supporters of the decent usages sanctioned by antiquity, andconsecrated by the veneration of a long line of the great and noble.Whether they themselves believe in the system which they uphold or not,they are equally tenacious of it. They would preserve and perpetuate it,because it has satisfied, at any rate bound and overawed, the multitudefor ages: and the experiment of alteration or substitution is toodangerous to be tried. Most indeed reason not, nor philosophize at all,in the matter. The instinct that makes them Romans in their worship ofthe power and greatness of Rome, and attachment to her civil forms,makes them Romans in their religion, and will summon them, if need be,to die for the one and the other.

  Religion and philosophy have accordingly nothing to hope from thisquarter. It is those whom we may term the substantial middle classes,who, being least hindered by prejudices and pride of order, on the onehand, and incapacitated by ignorance on the other, have ever been theearliest and best friends of progress in any science. Here you find theretired scholar, the thoughtful and independent farmer, the skilfulmechanic, the enlightened merchant, the curious traveller, theinquisitive philosopher--all fitted, beyond those of either extreme, forexercising a sound judgment upon such questions, and all more interestedin them. It is out of these that Christianity has made its converts.They are accordingly worthy of universal respect. I have examined withdiligence, and can say that there live not in Rome a purer and morenoble company than the Christians. When I say however that it is out ofthese whom I have just specified, that Christianity has made itsconverts, I do not mean to say out of them exclusively. Some have joinedthem in the present age, as well as in every age past, from the mostelevated in rank and power. If in Nero's palace, and among his chiefministers, there were Christians, if Domitilla, Domitian's niece, was aChristian, if the emperor Philip was a Christian, so now a few of thesame rank may be counted, who openly, and more who secretly, professthis religion. But they are very few. So that you will not wonder thatwhen the head of the ancient and honorable house of the Pisos, thefriend of Aurelian, and allied to the royal family of Palmyra, declaredhimself to be of this persuasion, no little commotion was observable inRome--not so much among the Christians as among the patricians, amongthe nobility, in the court and palace of Aurelian. The love of many hasgrown cold, and the outward tokens of respect are withheld. Browsdarkened by the malignant passions of the bigot are bent upon me as Ipass along the streets, and inquiries, full of scornful irony, are madeafter the welfare of my new friends. The Emperor changes not hiscarriage toward me, nor, I believe, his feelings. I think he is tootolerant of opinion, too much a man of the world, to desire to curb andrestrain the liberty of his friends in the quarter of philosophy andreligion. I know indeed on the other hand, that he is religious in hisway, to the extreme of superstition, but I have observed no tokens asyet of any purpose or wish to interfere with the belief or worship ofothers. He seems like one who, if he may indulge his own feelings in hisown way, is not unwilling to concede to others the same freedom.

  * * * * *

  As I was writing these last sentences, I became conscious of a voicemuttering in low tones, as if discoursing with itself, and upon no veryagreeable theme. I heeded it not at first, but wrote on. At length itran thus, and I was compelled to give ear:

  Patience, patience--greatest of virtues, yet hardest of practice! Towait indeed for a kingdom were something, though it were upon a bed ofthorns; to suffer for the honor of truth, were more; more in itself, andmore in its rewards. But patience, when a fly stings, or a fool speaks,or worse, when time is wasted and lost, is--the virtue in this casemayhap is greater after all--but it is harder, I say, of practice--thatis what I say--yet, for that very reason, greater! By Hercules! Ibelieve it is so. So that while I wait here, my virtue of patience isgreater than that of these accursed Jews. Patience then, I say,patience!'

  'What in the name of all antiquity,' I exclaimed, turning round as thevoice ceased, 'is this flood of philosophy for? Wherein have Ioffended?'

  'Offended!' cried the other; 'Nay, noble master, not offended. Accordingto my conclusion, I owe thee thanks; for while I have stood waiting tocatch thy eye and ear, my virtue has shot up like a wild vine. The soulhas grown. I ought therefore rather to crave forgiveness of thee, forbreaking up a study which was so profound, and doubtless so agreeabletoo.'

  'Agreeable you will certainly grant it, when I tell you I was writing toyour ancient friend and pupil, the daughter of Gracchus.'

  'Ah, the blessings of all the gods upon her. My dreams are still of her.I loved her, Piso, as I never loved beside, either form, shadow, orsubstance. I used to think that I loved her as a parent loves hischild--a brother his sister; but it was more than that. Aristotle is notso dear to me as she. Bear witness these tears! I would now, bent as Iam, travel the Syrian deserts to see her; especially if I might hearfrom her mouth a chapter of the great philosopher. Never did Greek,always music, seem so like somewhat more divinely harmonious thananything of earth, as when it came through her lips. Yet, by Hercules!she played me many a mad prank! 'Twould have been better for her and forletters, had I chastised her more, and loved her less. Condescend, noblePiso, to name me to her, and entreat her not to fall away from herGreek. That will be a consolation under all losses, and all sorrows.'

  'I will not fail to do so. And now in what is my opinion wanted?'

  'It is simply in the matter of these volumes, where thou wilt have thembestowed. The cases here, by their superior adorning, seem designed forthe great master of all, and his disciples; and it is here I would fainorder them. Would it so please thee?'

  'No, Solon, not here. That is designed for a very different Master andhis disciples.'

  Solon looked at me as if unwilling to credit his ears, hoping thatsomething would be added more honorable to the affronted philosopher andmyself. But
nothing coming, he said:

  'I penetrate--I apprehend. This, the very centre and post of honor, thoureservest for the atheistical Jews. The gods help us! I doubt I shouldstraight resign my office. Well, well; let us hope that the increase ofyears will bring an increase of wisdom. We cannot look for fruit on asapling. Youth seeks novelty. But the gods be thanked! Youth lasts notlong, but is a fault daily corrected; else the world were at a bad pass.Rome is not fallen, nor the fame of the Stagyrite hurt for this. But'tis grievous to behold!'

  So murmuring, as he retreated to the farther part of the library, withhis bundle of rolls under his arm, he again busied himself in the laborsof his office.

  I see, Fausta, the delight that sparkles in your eye and breaks overyour countenance, as you learn that Solon, the incomparable Solon, isone of my household. No one whom I could think of, appeared so wellsuited to my wants as librarian, as Solon, and I can by no means conveyto you an idea of the satisfaction with which he hailed my offer; andabandoning the rod and the brass tablets, betook himself to a laborwhich would yield him so much more leisure for the perusal of hisfavorite authors, and the pursuit of his favorite studies. He is alreadydeep in the question, 'whether the walls of Troy were accommodated withthirty-three or thirty-nine gates,' and also in this, 'what was themethod of construction adopted in the case of the wooden horse, and whatwas its capacity?' Of his progress in these matters, I will duly informyou.

  But I weary your patience. Farewell.

  * * * * *

  Piso, alluding in this letter to the slaughter on the Coelian Hill,which happened not long before it was written, I will add here thatwhatever color it may have pleased Aurelian to give to that affair--asif it were occasioned by a dishonest debasement of the coin by thedirectors of the mint--there is now no doubt, on the part of any who arefamiliar with the history of that period, that the difficulty originatedin a much deeper and more formidable cause, well known to Aurelianhimself, but not spoken of by him, in alluding to the event. It iscertain, then, that the civil war which then befel, for such it was, wasin truth the breaking out of a conspiracy on the part of the nobles todisplace Aurelian--'a German peasant,' as they scornfully designatedhim--and set one of their own order upon the throne. They had alreadybought over the chief manager of the public mint--a slave and favoriteof Aurelian--and had engaged him in creating, to serve the purposeswhich they had in view, an immense issue of spurious coin. This they hadused too liberally, in effecting some of the preliminary objects oftheir movement. It was suspected, tried, proved to be false, and tracedto its authors. Before they were fully prepared, the conspirators wereobliged to take to their arms, as the only way in which to savethemselves from the executioner. The contest was one of the bloodiestever known within the walls of the city. It was Aurelian, with a fewlegions of his army, and the people--always of his part--against thewealth and the power of the nobility, and their paid adherents. In oneday, and in one battle, as it may be termed, fifteen thousand soldiersand citizens were slain in the streets of the capital. Truly does Pisosay, the streets of the Coelian ran blood. I happily was within thewalls of the queen's palace at Tibur; but well do I remember the horrorof the time--especially the days succeeding the battle, when thevengeance of the enraged conqueror fell upon the noblest families ofRome, and the axe of the executioner was blunted and broken with thesavage work which it did.

  No one has written of Aurelian and his reign, who has not applauded himfor the defence which he made of his throne and crown, when traitorouslyassailed within the very walls of the capital; but all unite also incondemning that fierce spirit of revenge, which, after the contest wasover and his power secure, by confiscation, banishment, torture anddeath, involved in ruin so many whom a different treatment would haveconverted into friends. But Aurelian was by nature a tyrant; it wasaccident whenever he was otherwise. If affairs moved on smoothly, he wasthe just or magnanimous prince; if disturbed and perplexed, and his willcrossed, he was the imperious and vindictive tyrant.