Aurelian; or, Rome in the Third Century
withdrawn, angry words broke forth abundantly.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 daemon dwells in
that body that has just departed?'
'Well do you say daemon. 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 to heap 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!--Irenaeus!--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 in ascribing 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.
LETTER III.
FROM PISO TO FAUSTA.
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 are not thus occupied, pass the remainder of their hours at