Aurelian; or, Rome in the Third Century
higher nature. It is better for the temper than a chapter of Seneca or
Epictetus. It brings upon the soul a certain divine calm, favorable
beyond any other state to the growth of the virtues. Could it become of
universal use, mankind were soon a race of gods. Even Christianity were
then made unnecessary--admitting it to be that unrivalled moral engine
which you Christians affirm it to be. It is favorable also to
dispassionate discussion, Piso, a little of which I would now invite.
Know you not, I have scarce seen you since your assumption of your new
name and faith? What bad demon possessed you, in evil hour, to throw
Rome and your friends into such a ferment?'
'Had you become, Lucius,' said Lucilia, 'a declaiming advocate of
Epicurus, or a street-lecturer upon Plato, or turned priest of Apollo's
new temple, it would have all been quite tolerable, though amazing--but
Christian!'--
'Yes, Lucius, it is too bad,' added Marcus. 'If you were in want of
moral strength, you would have done better to have begged some of my
Falernian. You should not have been denied.'
'Or,' said Lucilia,'some of my Smyrna cordial.'
'At least,' continued Marcus, 'you might have come to me for some of my
wisdom, which I keep ready, at a moment's warning, in quantities to suit
all applicants.'
'Or to me,' said Lucilia, 'for some of my every day good-sense, which,
you know, I possess in such abundance, though I have not sat at the feet
of philosophers.'
'But seriously, Lucius,' began Marcus in altered mood, 'this is a most
extraordinary movement of yours. I should like to be able to interpret
it. If you must needs have what you call religion, of which I, for my
part, can see no earthly occasion, here were plenty of forms in which to
receive it, more ancient and more respectable than this of the
Christians.'
'I am almost unwilling to converse on this topic with you, Marcus,' I
rejoined, 'for there is nothing in your nature, or rather in your
educated nature, to which to appeal with the least hope of any
profitable result, either to me, or you. The gods have, as you say,
given you a good heart--I may add too, a most noble head; but, yourself
and education together, have made you so thoroughly a man of the world,
that the interests of any other part of your nature, save those of the
intellect and the senses, are to you precisely as if they did not
exist.'
'Right, Lucius; therein do I claim honor and distinction. The
intangible, the invisible, the vague, the shadowy, I leave to women and
priests--concerning myself only with the substantial realities of life.
Great Jupiter! what would become of mankind were we all women, and
priests? How could the courts go on--senates sit, and deliberate--armies
conquer? I think the world would stand still. However, I object not to a
popular faith, such as that which now obtains throughout, the Roman
world. If mankind, as history seems to prove, must and will have
something of the kind, this perhaps is as good as anything else; and,
seeing it has once become established and fixed in the way it has, I
think it ought no more to be disturbed than men's faith in their
political institutions. Our concern should be, merely to regulate it,
that it grow not too large, and so overlay and crush the state. Fanatics
and bigots must be hewn away. There must be an occasional infusion of
doubt and indifference into the mass, to keep it from fermenting. You
cannot be offended, Lucius, at the way in which I speak of your
new-adopted faith. I think no better of any other. Epicureans, Stoics,
Platonists, Jews, Christians, they are all alike to me. I hold them all
at arms length. I have listened to them all; and more idle, indigested
fancies never did I hear--no, not from the new-fledged advocate playing
the rhetorician at his first appearance.'
'I do not wonder, Curtius, that you have turned away dissatisfied with
the philosophers. I do not wonder that you reject the popular
superstitions. But I do wonder, that you will prejudge any question, or
infer the intrinsic incredibility of whatever may take the form of
religion, from the intrinsic incredibility of what the world has
heretofore possessed. It surely is not a philosophical method.'
'Not in other things, I grant,' replied Marcus; 'but concerning this
question of popular superstition, or religion, the only philosophical
thing is, to discard the whole subject, as one deserving severe
investigation. The follies which the populace have, in all nations, and
in all time, adopted, let them be retained, and even defended and
supported by the State. They perform a not unimportant office in
regulating the conduct, and manners of men--in preserving a certain
order in the world. But beyond this, it seems to me, the subject is
unworthy the regard of a reflecting person. One world and one life is
enough to manage at a time. If there be others, and if there be a God
who governs them, it will be time enough to know these things when they
are made plain to the senses, as these trees and hills now are, and your
well-shaped form. This peering into futurity, in the expectation to
arrive at certainty, seems to me much as if one should hope to make out
the forms of cities, palaces, and groves, by gazing into the empty air,
or on the clouds. Besides, of what use?'
'Of what use indeed?' added Lucilia. 'I want no director or monitor,
concerning any duty or act, which it falls to me to perform, other than
I find within me. I have no need of a divine messenger, to stand ever at
my side, to tell me what I must do, and what I must forbear. I have
within me instincts and impulses, which I find amply sufficient. The
care and duty of every day is very much alike, and a little experience
and observation, added to the inward instinct, makes me quite superior
to most difficulties and evils as they arise. The gods, or whatever
power gave us our nature, have not left us dependent for these things,
either on what is called religion or philosophy.'
'What you say,' I rejoined, 'is partly true. The gods have not left us
dependent exclusively, upon either religion, or philosophy. There is a
natural religion of the heart and the conscience, which is born with us,
grows up with us, and never forsakes us. But then, after all, how
defective and incomplete a principle it is. It has chiefly to do, only
with our daily conduct; it cannot answer our doubts, or satisfy our most
real wants. It differs too with the constitution of the individual. In
some, it is a principle of much greater value and efficacy, than in
others. Your instincts are clear, and powerful, and direct you aright.
But, in another, they are obscure, and weak, and leave the mind in the
greatest perplexity. It is by no means all that they want. Then, are not
the prevalent superstitions most injurious in their influences upon the
common mind? Can you doubt, whether more of good or evil, is derived to
the soul, from the ideas it entertains of the character, and providence
of the gods? Can you be insensible to the horrible enormities, and
nameless vices, which make a part, even of what is called religion? And
is there no need--if men will have religion in some form--that they
should receive it in a better one? Can you not conceive of such views of
God and his worship, of duty, virtue, and immortality being presented,
that they shall strike the mind as reasonable in themselves, and of
beneficial instead of hurtful power, upon being adopted? Can you not
imagine your own mind, and the minds of people generally, to be so
devoted to a high and sublime conception of the Divinity, and of
futurity, as to be absolutely incapable of an act, that should displease
him, or forfeit the hope of immortality?'
'Hardly,' said Marcus and Lucilia.
'Well, suppose it were so. Or rather, if you cannot imagine such a state
of things, multitudes can. You are not a fair specimen of our kind, but
only of a comparatively small class. Generally--so I have found it--the
mind is seeking about for something better than what any human system
has as yet proposed, and is confident of nothing more than of this, that
men may be put in possession of truths, that shall carry them on as far
beyond what their natural instincts now can do, as these instincts carry
them on beyond any point to which the brutes ever arrive. This,
certainly, was my own conviction, before I met with Christianity. Now,
Marcus and Lucilia, what is this Christianity, but a revelation from
Heaven, whose aim is to give to you, and to all, such conceptions of
God, and futurity, as I have just spoken of?'--I then, finding that I
had obtained a hearing, went into an account of the religion of Christ,
as I had received it from the books themselves, and which to you I need
not repeat. They listened with considerable patience--though I was
careful not to use many words--but without any expression of
countenance, or manner, that indicated any very favorable change in
their opinions or feelings. As I ended, Marcus said,
'I shall always think better of this religion, Lucius, that you have
adopted it, though I cannot say that your adopting it, will raise my
judgment of you. I do not at present see upon what grounds it stands so
firm, or divine, that a citizen is defensible in abandoning for it, an
ostensible reception of, and faith in, the existing forms of the State.
However, I incline to allow freedom in these matters to scholars and
speculative minds. Let them work out and enjoy their own fancies--they
are a restless, discontented, ambitious herd, and should, for the sake
of their genius, be humored in the particular pursuits where they have
placed their happiness. But, when they leave their proper vocation, and
turn propagators and reformers, and aim at the subversion of things now
firmly established and prosperous, then--although I myself should never
meddle in such matters--it is scarcely a question whether the power of
the State should interpose, and lay upon them the necessary restraints.
Upon the whole, Lucius Piso, I think, that I, and Lucilia, had better
turn preachers, and exhort you to return to the faith, or no-faith,
which you have abandoned. Leave such things to take care of themselves.
What have you gained but making yourself an object of popular aversion
or distrust? You have abandoned the community of the polite, the
refined, the sober, where by nature you belong, and have associated
yourself with a vulgar crew, of--forgive my freedom, I speak the common
judgment, that you may know what it is--of ignorant fanatics or crafty
knaves, who care for you no further, than as by your great name, they
may stand a little higher in the world. I protest, before Jupiter, that
to save others like you from such loss, I feel tempted to hunt over the
statute books for some law, now obsolete and forgotten, but not legally
dead, that may be brought to bear upon this mischief, and give it
another Decian blight, which, if it do not kill, may yet check, and
obstruct its growth.'
I replied, 'that from him I could apprehend, he well knew, no such deed
of folly or guilt--however likely it was that others might, do it, and
glory in their shame; that his nature would save him from such a deed,
though his principles might not.' I told him, moreover, 'that I did not
despair of his looking upon Christianity with a favorable judgment in
good time. He had been willing to hear; and there was that secret charm
in the truths and doctrines of Christ's religion, and especially in his
character, that, however rudely set forth, the mind could scarcely
resist it; against its will, it would, oftentimes, find itself subdued
and changed. The seeds I have now dropt upon your hearts, I trust, will
some day spring up, and bear such fruit as you yourselves will rejoice
in.'