Aurelian; or, Rome in the Third Century
look at this figure of Apollo, or a statue of your Paul or Peter, as you
name them--supposing they were just men and benefactors of their race?'
'There ought to be none,' Probus replied. 'It ought to be a source of
innocent pleasure, if not of wholesome instruction, to gaze upon the
imitated form of a good man--of a reformer, a benefactor, a prophet. But
man is so prone to religion,--it is an honorable instinct--that you can
scarce place before him an object of reverence but he will straightway
worship it. What were your gods but once men, first revered, then
worshipped, and now their stone images deemed to be the very gods
themselves? Thus the original idea--the effect, we may believe, of an
early revelation--of one supreme Deity has been almost lost out of the
world. Let the figure of Christ be everywhere set before the people in
stone or metal, and, what with the natural tendency of the mind to
idolatry, and the force of example in the common religion, I fear it
would not be long before he, whom we now revere as a prophet, would soon
be worshipped as a god; and the disciples whom you have named, in like
manner, would no longer be remembered with gratitude and affection as
those who devoted their lives to the service of their fellow-men, but be
adored as inferior Deities, like your Castor and Pollux. I can conceive
that, in the lapse of ages, men shall be so redeemed from the gross
conceptions that now inthrall them concerning both God and his worship,
and so nourished up to a divine strength by the power of truth, they
shall be in no danger from such sources; but shall reap all the pleasure
and advantage which can be derived from beautiful forms of art and the
representation of great and excellent characters, without ever dreaming
that any other than the infinite and invisible Spirit of the universe is
to be worshipped, or held divine. The religion of Christ will itself, if
aught can do it, bring about such a period.'
'That then will be the time for artists to live, next after now,' said
Demetrius of Palmyra. 'In the meantime, Probus, if Hellenism should
decline and die, and your strict faith take its place, art will decline
and perish. We live chiefly by the gods and their worship.'
'If our religion,' replied Probus, 'should suffer injury from its own
professors, in the way it has, for a century or two more, it will give
occupation enough to artists. Its corruptions will do the same for you
that the reign of absolute and perfect truth would.'
'The gods then grant that the corruptions you speak of may come in
season, before I die. I am tired of Jupiters, Mercurys, and Apollos. I
have a great fancy to make a statue of Christ. Brother! what think you,
should I reach it? Most excellent Probus, should I make you such an one
for your private apartments I do not believe you would worship it, and
doubtless it would afford you pleasure. If you will leave a commission
for such a work, it shall be set about so soon as this god of the
Emperor's is safe on his pedestal. What think you?'
'I should judge you took me, Demetrius, for the priest of a temple, or a
noble of the land. The price of such a piece of sculpture would swallow
up more than all I am worth. Besides, though I might not worship
myself--though I say not but I might--I should give an ill example to
others, who, if they furnished themselves or their churches with similar
forms, might not have power over themselves, but relapse into the
idolatry from which they are but just escaped.'
'All religions, as to their doctrine and precept, are alike to me,'
replied Demetrius, 'only, as a general principle, I should ever prefer
that which has the most gods. Rome shows excellent judgment in adopting
all the gods of the earth, so that if the worship of one god will not
bring prosperity to the nation, there are others in plenty to try their
fortune with again. Never doubt, brother, that it is because you
Christians have no gods, that the populace and others are so hostile to
you. Only set up a few images of Christ, and some of the other founders
of the religion, and your peace will be made. Otherwise I fear this
man-killer will, like some vulture, pounce upon you and tear you
piecemeal. What, brother, have you learned of Aurelia?'
'Nothing with certainty. I could find only a confirmation from every
mouth, but based on no certain knowledge, of the rumor that reached us
early in the morning. But what is so universally reported, generally
turns out true. I should, however, if I believed the fact of her
imprisonment, doubt the cause. I said that I could conceive of no other
cause, and feared that if the fact were so, the religion of Aurelian was
the reason of her being so dealt with. It was like Aurelian, if he had
resolved upon oppressing the Christians to any extent whatever, that he
should begin with those who were nearest to him; first with his own
blood, and then with those of his household.'
With this, and such like conversation, I passed a pleasant hour at the
rooms of Demetrius.
* * * * *
My wish was, as I turned from the apartments of Demetrius, to seek the
Emperor or Livia, and learn from them the exact truth concerning the
reports current through the city. But, giving way to that weakness which
defers to the latest possible moment the confirmation of painful news,
and the resolution of doubts which one would rather should remain as
doubts than be determined the wrong way, in melancholy mood, I turned
and retraced my steps. My melancholy was changed to serious apprehension
by all that I observed and heard on my way to the Coelian. As the
crowd in this great avenue, the Suburra, pressed by me, it was easy to
gather that the Christians had become the universal topic of
conversation and dispute. The name of the unhappy Aurelia frequently
caught my ear. Threatening and ferocious language dropt from many, who
seemed glad that at length an Emperor had arisen who would prove
faithful to the institutions of the country. I joined a little group of
gazers before the window of the rooms of Periander, at which something
rare and beautiful is always to be seen, who, I found, were looking
intently at a picture, apparently just from the hands of the artist,
which represented Rome under the form of a beautiful woman--Livia had
served as the model--with a diadem upon her head, and the badges of
kingly authority in her hands, and at her side a priest of the Temple
of Jupiter, "Greatest and Best", in whose face and form might plainly be
traced the cruel features of Fronto. The world was around them. On the
lowest earth, with dark shadows settling over them, lay scattered and
broken, in dishonor and dust, the emblems of all the religions of the
world, their temples fallen and in ruins. Among them, in the front
ground of the picture, was the prostrate cross, shattered as if dashed
from the church, whose dilapidated walls and wide-spread fragments bore
testimony not so much to the wasting power of time as to the rude hand
of popular violence; while, rearing themselves up into a higher
atmosphere, the temples of the gods of Rome stood beautiful and perfect,
bathed in the glowing light of a morning sun. The allegory was plain and
obvious enough. There was little attractive, save the wonderful art with
which it was done. This riveted the eye; and that being gained, the
bitter and triumphant bigotry of the ideas set forth had time to make
its way into the heart of the beholder, and help to change its warm
blood to gall. Who but must be won by the form and countenance of the
beautiful Livia? and, confounding Rome with her, be inspired with a new
devotion to his country, and its religion, and its lovely queen? The
work was inflaming and insidious, as it was beautiful. This was seen in
what it drew from those among whom I stood.
'By Jupiter!' said one, 'that is well done. They are all down, who can
deny it! Those are ruins not to be built up again. Who, I wonder, is the
artist? He must be a Roman to the last drop of his blood, and the last
hair of his beard.'
'His name is Sporus,' replied his companion, 'as I hear, a kinsman of
Fronto, the priest of Apollo.'
'Ah, that's the reason the priest figures here,' cried the first, 'and
the Empress too; for they say nobody is more at the Gardens than Fronto.
Well, he's just the man for his place. If any man can bring up the
temples again, it's he. Religion is no sham at the Temple of the Sun.
The priests are all what they pretend to be. Let others do so, and we
shall have as much reason to thank the Emperor for what he has done for
the gods--and so for us all--as for what he has done for the army, the
empire, and the city.'
'You say well,' rejoined the other. 'He is for once a man, who, if he
will, may make Rome what she was before the empire, a people that
honored the gods. And this picture seems as if it spoke out his very
plans, and I should not wonder if it were so.'
'Never doubt it. See, here lies a Temple of Isis flat enough; next to it
one of the accursed tribe of Jews. And what ruder pile is that?'
'That must be a Temple of the British worship, as I think. But the best
of all, is this Christian church: see how the wretches fly, while the
work goes on! In my notion, this paints what we may soon see.'
'I believe it! The gods grant it so! Old men, in my judgment, will live
to see it all acted out. Do you hear what is said? That Aurelian has put
to death his own niece, the princess Aurelia?'
'That's likely enough,' said another, 'no one can doubt it. 'Tis easy
news to believe in Rome. But the question is what for?'
'For what else but for her impiety, and her aims to convert Mucapor to
her own ways.'
'Well, there is no telling, and it's no great matter; time will show.
Meanwhile, Aurelian forever! He's the man for me!'
'Truly is he,' said one at his side, who had not spoken before, 'for thy
life is spent at the amphitheatres, and he is a good caterer for thee,
sending in ample supplies of lions and men.'
'Whew! who is here? Take care! Your tongue, old man, has short space to
wag in.'
'I am no Christian, knave, but I trust I am a man: and that is more than
any can say of you, that know you. Out upon you for a savage!'
The little crowd burst into loud laughter at this, and with various
abusive epithets moved away. The old man addressed himself to me, who
alone remained as they withdrew,--
'Aurelian, I believe, would do well enough were he let alone. He is
inclined to cruelty, I know: but nobody can deny that, cruel or not, he
has wrought most beneficial changes both in the army and in the city. He
has been in some sort, up to within the last half year, a censor,
greater than Valerian; a reformer, greater and better than even he. Had
he not been crazed by his successes in the East, and were he not now
led, and driven, and maddened, by the whole priesthood of Rome, with the
hell-born Fronto at their head, we might look for a new and a better
Rome. But, as it is, I fear these young savages, who are just gone, will
see all fulfilled they are praying for. A fair day to you.'
And he too turned away. Others were come into the same spot, and for a
long time did I listen to similar language. Many came, looked, said
nothing, and took their way, with paler face, and head depressed, silent
under the imprecations heaped upon the atheists, but manifestly either
of their side in sympathy, or else of the very atheists themselves.
I now sought my home, tired of the streets, and of all I had seen and
heard. Many of my acquaintance, and friends passed me on the way, in
whose altered manner I could behold the same signs which, in ruder form,
I had just seen at the window of Periander. Not, Fausta, that all my