Aurelian; or, Rome in the Third Century
and ready at any hour to depart from it. You know my early story. But I
in vain seek to steel myself to the pains of others. From what I have
said, I fear lest you should think me over-apprehensive. I wish it were
so. But all seems at this moment to be against us.'
'More then,' said Julia, 'must have come to your ears than to ours. When
last we sat with the Emperor at his table, he seemed well inclined. And
when urged by Fronto, rebuked him even with violence.'
'Yes, it was so.'
'Is it then from the scenes of to-day at the temple that you draw fresh
omens of misfortune? I have asked you what we should think of them.'
'I almost tremble to say. I stood, Piso, not far from you, upon the
lower flight of steps, where I think you observed me.'
'I did. And at the sound of that voice from the temple, methought your
face was paler than Aurelian's. Why was that?'
'Because, Piso, I knew the voice.'
'Knew it! What mean you?'
'Repeat it not--let it sink into your ear, and there abide. It was
Macer's.'
'Macer's? Surely you jest.'
'Alas! I wish it were a jest. But his tones were no more to be mistaken
than were the thunder's.'
'This, should it be known, would, it is plain to see, greatly exasperate
Aurelian. It would be more than enough for Fronto to work his worst ends
with. His suspicions at once fell upon the Christians.'
'That,' said Probus, 'was, I am confident, an artifice. The countenance,
struck with superstitious horror, is not to be read amiss. Seen, though
but for a moment, and the signature is upon it, one and unequivocal. But
with quick instinct the wily priest saw his advantage, seized it, and,
whether believing or not himself, succeeded in poisoning the mind of
Aurelian and that of the multitude. So great was the commotion among the
populace, that, but for the tempest, I believe scarce would the legions
of the Emperor have saved us from slaughter upon the spot. Honest,
misguided Macer--little dost thou know how deep a wound thou hast struck
into the very dearest life of the truth, for which thou wouldst yet at
any moment thyself freely suffer and die!'
'What,' said Julia, 'could have moved him to such madness?'
'With him,' replied Probus, 'it was a deed of piety and genuine zeal for
God; he saw it in the light of an act god-like, and god-directed. Could
you read his heart, you would find it calm and serene, in the
consciousness of a great duty greatly performed. It is very possible he
may have felt himself to be but an instrument in the hand of a higher
power, to whom he gives all the glory and the praise. There are many
like him, lady, both among Christians and Pagans. The sybils impose not
so much upon others as upon themselves. They who give forth the
responses of the oracle, oft-times believe that they are in very truth
full of the god, and speak not their own thoughts, but the inspirations
of him whose priests they are. To themselves more than to others are
they impostors. The conceit of the peculiar favor of God, or of the gods
in return for extraordinary devotion, is a weakness that besets our
nature wherever it is found. An apostle perhaps never believed in his
inspiration more firmly than at times does Macer, and others among us
like him. But this inward solitary persuasion we know is nothing,
however it may carry away captive the undiscriminating multitude.'
'Hence, Probus, then, I suppose, the need of some outward act of an
extraordinary nature to show the inspiration real.'
'Yes,' he replied. 'No assertion of divine impulses or revelations can
avail to persuade us of their reality, except supported and confirmed by
miracle. That, and that only, proves the present God. Christ would have
died without followers had he exhibited to the world only his character
and his truth, even though he had claimed, and claimed truly, a descent
from and communion with the Deity. Men would have said, 'This is an old
and common story. We see every day and everywhere those who affect
divine aid. No act is so easy as to deceive one's self. If you propose a
spiritual moral system and claim for it a divine authority, show your
authority by a divine work, a work impossible to man, and we will then
admit your claims. But your own inward convictions alone, sincere as
they may be, and possibly founded in truth, pass with us for nothing.
Raise one that was dead to life, and we will believe you when you reveal
to us the spiritual world and the life to come.'
'I think,' said Julia, 'such would be the process in my own mind. There
seems the same natural and necessary connection here between spiritual
truths and outward acts, as between the forms of letters or the sound
of words, and ideas. We receive the most subtle of Plato's reasonings
through words--those miracles of material help--which address themselves
to the eye or ear. So we receive the truths of Jesus through the eye
witnessing his works, or the ear hearing the voice from Heaven.--But we
wander from Macer, in whom, from what you have told us, and Piso has
known, we both feel deeply interested. Can he not be drawn away from
those fancies which possess him? 'Tis a pity we should lose so strong an
advocate, to some minds so resistless, nor only that, but suffer injury
from his extravagance.'
'It is our purpose,' I replied, 'to visit him to try what effect earnest
remonstrance and appeal may have. Soon as I shall return from my
promised and now necessary visit to Marcus and Lucilia, I shall not
fail, Probus, to request you to accompany me to his dwelling.'
'Does he dwell far from us?' asked Julia.
'His house, if house it may be called,' replied Probus, 'is in a narrow
street, which runs just behind the shop of Demetrius, midway between the
Capitol and the Quirinal. It is easily found by first passing the shop
and then descending quick to the left--the street Janus, our friend
Isaac's street, turning off at the same point to the right. At Macer's,
should your feet ever be drawn that way, you would see how and in what
crowded space the poor live in Rome.'
'Has he then a family, as your words seem to imply?'
'He has; and one more lovely dwells not within the walls of Rome. In his
wife and elder children, as I have informed Piso, we shall find warm and
eloquent advocates on our side. They tremble for their husband and
father, whom they reverence and love, knowing his impetuosity, his
fearlessness and his zeal. Many an assault has he already brought upon
himself, and is destined, I fear, to draw down many more and heavier.'
'Heaven shield them all from harm,' said Julia. 'Are they known to
Demetrius? His is a benevolent heart, and he would rejoice to do them a
service. No one is better known too or respected than the Roman
Demetrius: his name merely would be a protection.'
'It was from Macer,' replied Probus, 'that Demetrius first heard the
truth which now holds him captive. Their near neighborhood brought them
often together. Demetrius was impressed by the ardor and evident
sincerity so visible in the conversation and manners of Macer; and Macer
was drawn toward Demetrius by the cast of melancholy--that sober,
thoughtful air--that separates him so from his mercurial brother, and
indeed from all. He wished he were a Christian. And by happy accidents
being thrown together--or rather drawn by some secret bond of
attraction--he in no long time had the happiness to see him one. From
the hand of Felix he received the waters of baptism.'
'What you have said, Probus, gives me great pleasure. I am not only now
sure that Macer and his little tribe have a friend at hand, but the
knowledge that such a mind as that of Demetrius has been wrought upon by
Macer, has served to raise him in my esteem and respect. He can be no
common man, and surely no madman.'
'The world ever loves to charge those as mad,' said Probus, 'who, in
devotion to a great cause, exceed its cold standard of moderation.
Singular, that excess virtue should incur this reproach, while excess
in vice is held but as a weakness of our nature!'
We were here interrupted by Milo, who came to conduct us to the supper
room; and there our friendly talk was prolonged far into the night.
When I next write, I shall have somewhat to say of Marcus, Lucilia, and
the little Gallus. How noble and generous in the Queen, her magnificent
gift! When summer comes round again, I shall not fail, together with
Julia, to see you there. How many recollections will come thronging upon
me when I shall again find myself in the court of the Elephant, sitting
where I once sat so often and listened to the voice of Longinus. May you
see there many happy years. Farewell.
* * * * *
Nothing could exceed the sensation caused in Rome by the voice heard at
the dedication, and among the adherents of the popular faith, by the
unlucky omens of the day and of the sacrifice. My office at that time
called me often to the capital, and to the palace of Aurelian, and threw
me frequently into his company and that of Livia. My presence was little
heeded by the Emperor, who, of a bold and manly temper, spoke out with
little reserve, and with no disguise or fear, whatever sentiments
possessed him. From such opportunities, and from communications of
Menestheus, the secretary of Aurelian, little took place at the palace
which came not to my knowledge. The morning succeeding the dedication I
had come to the city bringing a packet from the Queen to the Empress
Livia. While I waited in the common reception room of the palace, I took
from a case standing there, a volume and read. As I read, I presently
was aroused by the sound of Aurelian's voice. It was as if engaged in
earnest conversation. He soon entered the apartment accompanied by the
priest of the new temple.
'There is something,' he said as he drew near, 'in this combination of
unlucky signs that might appal a stouter spirit than mine. This too,
after a munificence toward not one only but all the temples, never I am
sure surpassed. Every god has been propitiated by gifts and appropriate
rites. How can all this be interpreted other than most darkly--other
than as a general hostility--and a discouragement from an enterprise
upon which I would found my glory. This has come most unlooked for. I
confess myself perplexed. I have openly proclaimed my purpose--the word
has gone abroad and travelled by this to the court of Persia itself,
that with all Rome at my back I am once more to tempt the deserts of the
East.'
He here suddenly paused, being reminded by Fronto of my presence.
'Ah, it matters not;' he said; 'this is but Nichomachus, the good
servant of the Queen of Palmyra. I hope,' he said, turning to me, 'that
the Queen is well, and the young Faustula?'
'They are well,' I replied.
'How agree with her these cooler airs of the west? These are not the
breezes of Arabia, that come to-day from the mountains.'
'She heeds them little,' I replied, 'her thoughts are engrossed by
heavier cares.'
'They must be fewer now than ever.'
'They are fewer, but they are heavier and weigh upon her life more than
the whole East once did. The remembrance of a single great disaster
weighs as a heavier burden than the successful management of an empire.'
'True, Nichomachus, that is over true.' Then, without further regarding
me, he went on with his conversation with Fronto.
'I cannot,' he said, 'now go back; and to go forward may be
persumptuous.'
'I cannot but believe, great Emperor,' said Fronto, 'that I have it in
my power to resolve your doubts, and set your mind at ease.'
'Rest not then,' said Aurelian with impatience--'but say on.'
'You sought the gods and read the omens with but one prayer and thought.
And you have construed them as all bearing upon one point and having one