diff options
Diffstat (limited to '44330-tei')
| -rw-r--r-- | 44330-tei/44330-tei.tei | 13384 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 44330-tei/images/cover.jpg | bin | 0 -> 139424 bytes |
2 files changed, 13384 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/44330-tei/44330-tei.tei b/44330-tei/44330-tei.tei new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e85fd97 --- /dev/null +++ b/44330-tei/44330-tei.tei @@ -0,0 +1,13384 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8" ?> +<!DOCTYPE TEI.2 SYSTEM "http://www.gutenberg.org/tei/marcello/0.4/dtd/pgtei.dtd"> +<TEI.2 lang="en"> + <teiHeader> + <fileDesc> + <titleStmt> + <title>Valerius. A Roman Story</title> + <author><name reg="Lockhart, John Gibson">John Gibson Lockhart</name></author> + </titleStmt> + <publicationStmt> + <publisher>Project Gutenberg</publisher> + <date value="2013-12">December 1, 2013</date> + <idno type='etext-no'>44330</idno> + <availability> + <p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere + at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. + You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under + the terms of the Project Gutenberg License online at + www.gutenberg.org/license</p> + </availability> + </publicationStmt> + <sourceDesc> + <bibl> +<title>Valerius. A Roman Story</title> +<edition>New edition</edition> +<imprint> +<publisher>William Blackwood and Sons</publisher> +<pubPlace>Edinburgh and London</pubPlace> +</imprint> +</bibl> + </sourceDesc> + </fileDesc> + <encodingDesc> + </encodingDesc> + <profileDesc> + <langUsage> + <language id="en" /> + <language id="la" >Latin</language> + <language id="grc">Ancient Greek</language> + </langUsage> + </profileDesc> + <revisionDesc> + <change> + <date value="2013-12-01">December 1, 2013</date> + <respStmt> + <resp>Produced by sp1nd, Stefan Cramme and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made + available by The Internet Archive)</resp> + </respStmt> + <item>Project Gutenberg TEI edition 1</item> + </change> + </revisionDesc> + </teiHeader> + + <pgExtensions> + <pgStyleSheet> + .bold { font-weight: bold } + .center { text-align: center } + .h2 { font-size: large; font-style: normal } + .italic { font-style: italic } + .small { font-size: 75% } + .smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps } + head { text-align: center } + lg { margin-left: 2 } + </pgStyleSheet> +<pgCharMap formats="txt"> + <char id="U0x2009"> + <charName>thinsp</charName> + <desc>THIN SPACE</desc> + <mapping></mapping> + </char> +<char id="U0x03a6"> + <charName>Phi</charName> + <desc>GREEK CAPITAL LETTER PHI</desc> + <mapping>Ph</mapping> + </char> +<char id="U0x03c0"> + <charName>pi</charName> + <desc>GREEK SMALL LETTER PI</desc> + <mapping>p</mapping> + </char> +<char id="U0x03b5"> + <charName>epsilon</charName> + <desc>GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON</desc> + <mapping>e</mapping> + </char> +<char id="U0x03c1"> + <charName>rho</charName> + <desc>GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO</desc> + <mapping>r</mapping> + </char> +<char id="U0x03b9"> + <charName>iota</charName> + <desc>GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA</desc> + <mapping>i</mapping> + </char> +<char id="U0x03c4"> + <charName>tau</charName> + <desc>GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU</desc> + <mapping>t</mapping> + </char> +<char id="U0x03b7"> + <charName>eta</charName> + <desc>GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA</desc> + <mapping>ê</mapping> + </char> +<char id="U0x03c2"> + <charName>sigmaf</charName> + <desc>GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA</desc> + <mapping>s</mapping> + </char> +<char id="U0x03c5"> + <charName>upsilon</charName> + <desc>GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON</desc> + <mapping>u</mapping> + </char> +<char id="U0x03c3"> + <charName>sigma</charName> + <desc>GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA</desc> + <mapping>s</mapping> + </char> +<char id="U0x03c9"> + <charName>omega</charName> + <desc>GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA</desc> + <mapping>ô</mapping> + </char> +<char id="U0x03bf"> + <charName>omicron</charName> + <desc>GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON</desc> + <mapping>o</mapping> + </char> +<char id="U0x03b2"> + <charName>beta</charName> + <desc>GREEK SMALL LETTER BETA</desc> + <mapping>b</mapping> + </char> +<char id="U0x03b1"> + <charName>alpha</charName> + <desc>GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA</desc> + <mapping>a</mapping> + </char> +<char id="U0x03ba"> + <charName>kappa</charName> + <desc>GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA</desc> + <mapping>k</mapping> + </char> +<char id="U0x03c7"> + <charName>chi</charName> + <desc>GREEK SMALL LETTER CHI</desc> + <mapping>ch</mapping> + </char> + </pgCharMap> + </pgExtensions> + +<text lang="en"> +<front> +<div> +<divGen type="pgheader" /> +</div> +<div> +<divGen type="encodingDesc" /> +</div> +<div rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pgIf output="html"> +<then><p rend="center"><figure url="images/cover.jpg"><figDesc>Cover image</figDesc></figure></p></then></pgIf> + +<pb/><anchor id='Pgi'/> +<p rend="center; font-size: x-large">BLACKWOOD’S<lb/><lb/>STANDARD NOVELS</p> + +<milestone unit="tb" rend="rule: 30%"/> + +<p rend="center; font-size: x-large">VALERIUS</p> + +<pb/><anchor id='Pgii'/> + +</div> + +<titlePage rend="page-break-before: right; center"> +<pb/><anchor id='Pgiii'/> + +<docTitle> + <titlePart type="main" rend="font-size: xx-large">VALERIUS</titlePart> +<lb/><lb/> +<titlePart type="sub" rend="font-size: large">A ROMAN STORY</titlePart> +</docTitle> +<lb/><lb/><lb/> +<docEdition>NEW EDITION</docEdition> +<lb/><lb/><lb/> +<docImprint> +<publisher rend="font-size: large">WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS</publisher><lb/> +<pubPlace>EDINBURGH AND LONDON</pubPlace> +</docImprint> +<pb/><anchor id='Pgiv'/> +</titlePage> + +</front> +<body rend="page-break-before: right"> +<pb n="1"/><anchor id="Pg001"/> +<p rend="center; font-size: xx-large">VALERIUS.</p> +<!--<milestone unit="tb" rend="rule: 30%"/>--> +<div type="book" n="1"> +<!--<index index="toc" level1="Book I"/>--> +<index index="pdf" level1="Book I"/> +<div type="chapter" n="1"> +<index index="toc" level1="Book I. Chapter I"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter I"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">BOOK I. CHAPTER I.</hi></head> + +<p> +Since you are desirous, my friends, that I should +relate to you, at length and in order, the things which +happened to me during my journey to Rome, notwithstanding +the pain which it must cost me to throw +myself back into some of the feelings of that time, I +cannot refuse to comply with your request. After +threescore years spent in this remote province of an +empire, happy, for the most part, in the protection of +enlightened, just, and benevolent princes, I remember, +far more accurately than things which occurred only a +few months ago, the minutest particulars of what I +saw and heard while I sojourned, young and a stranger, +among the luxuries and cruelties of the capital of the +world, as yet imperfectly recovered from the effects of +the flagitious tyranny of the last of the Flavii. +</p> + +<pb n="2"/><anchor id="Pg002"/> + +<p> +My father, as you have heard, came with his legion +into this island, and married a lady of native blood, +some years before the first arrival of Agricola. In the +wars of that illustrious commander, during the reigns +of Vespasian and Titus, he had the fortune to find +opportunities of distinguishing himself; but when his +general was recalled, by the jealousy of Domitian, he +retired from public life, and determined to spend the +remainder of his days in peace, on the lands which +belonged to him in right of his wife here in Britain. +He laid the foundations of the house in which I have +now the pleasure of receiving you; and here, in the +cultivation of his fields, and in the superintendence of +my education, he found sufficient employment for an +active, though no longer an ambitious mind. Early in +the reign of Trajan he died. Never did either Roman +or British dwelling lament a more generous master. +</p> + +<p> +I cannot pretend to regret the accident which immediately +afterwards separated me from a gentle mother—never +to see her more upon the earth. Yet deeply +was the happiness of my returning hour stained by +that privation. It is the common rule of nature, that +our parents should precede us to the grave; and it is also +her rule, that our grief for them should not be of such +power as to prevent us from entering, after they are +gone, into a zealous participation both of the business +and the pleasures of life. Yet, in after years, the +memory of that buried tenderness rises up ever and +anon, and wins rather than warns us to a deliberate +contemplation of our own dissolution. +</p> + +<p> +Towards the end of the winter following the death +of my father, there arrived letters which engaged +<pb n="3"/><anchor id="Pg003"/>anxious consideration. They were from members of +his family, none of whom either my mother or myself +had seen. It was explained, especially by Caius +Licinius, the lawyer, (who was near of kin to our +house,) that by the death of a certain Patrician, Cneius +Valerius by name, I had become legally entitled to +a very considerable fortune, to claim and take possession +of which, demanded my immediate presence in +the metropolis. My rights, said this jurist, were indeed +called in question by another branch of the family, but +were I on the spot, his professional exertions, with +whatever interest he or any of his friends could command, +should be at my service, for the sake of my +father and of my name. +</p> + +<p> +The love of travel had never before been excited in +my bosom; but now that I knew I was so soon to +embark for Italy, the delights which I might there +hope to experience came crowding upon my imagination. +The dark and pine-clad banks of my native +Anton, said I, shall now be exchanged for that golden-waved +Tiber, of which so many illustrious poets have +sung. Instead of moving here among the ill-cemented +and motley fabric of an insulated colony, and seeing +only the sullen submission of barbarians on the one +hand, or the paltry vanity of provincial deputies on the +other, I shall tread the same ground with the rulers of +the earth, and wear, among native Romans, the gown +of my ancestors. I shall behold the Forum, which has +heard the eloquence of Cicero and Hortensius; I shall +ascend to the Capitol, where Cæsar triumphed; I shall +wander in the luxurious gardens of Sallust, or breathe +the fresh air in the fields of Cato: I shall gaze upon the +<pb n="4"/><anchor id="Pg004"/>antique majesty of temples and palaces, and open my +eyes on all that art and nature have been able to heap +together through eight centuries, for the ornament of +the chosen seat of wisdom and valour. +</p> + +<p> +A single trusty slave was selected to accompany me. +It was not certainly on account of his accomplishments +that Boto had been chosen for this duty; for although +he had lived all his days in the vicinity of the colonists +at Venta, there was scarcely a person within the bounds +of the British Belgæ that spoke worse Latin. He was, +however, a man of natural sagacity, possessing shrewd +discernment concerning whatever things had fallen +under his customary observation; and he shewed no +symptom either of diffidence respecting his qualifications +for this new office, or of regret at being separated from +those in whose company many years of gentle servitude +had glided over his sun-burnt countenance. It was +reported to me, that he invited several of our rustics to +drink with him in one of the out-houses, where his exultation +knew no limits. He was going to Rome, for his +young master very well knew he could never get on in +such a journey without the helping eye and hand of +Boto; and he had a brother in Italy already, (he had +gone over with a distinguished legionary some ten years +before,) and from him (for he would of course meet +with him as soon as our arrival should be known) he +would receive all requisite information concerning the +doings of the great city. The usefulness which, he +doubted not, I should be constrained to acknowledge in +his manifold qualifications, would, without all question, +entitle him to some signal reward—perhaps nothing +less than manumission on his return. +</p> + +<pb n="5"/><anchor id="Pg005"/> + +<p> +Two days passed more quickly than any I ever +remember to have spent amidst a strange mixture of +mirth, and sorrow, and noisy preparation. +</p> + +<p> +Where that single tall naked pine now stands buffeted +by the wind, then grew a thick grove, of which that +relic alone survives. It was there that I turned round +to gaze once more on the quiet verdure of these paternal +fields, and our small pastoral stream glistening here and +there beneath the shady covert of its margin. +</p> + +<p> +I had at first intended to cross over to Gaul, and +traversing that province, enter Italy, either by the +route of the Alps, in case we could procure convenient +guides and companions, or by some vessel sailing from +Marseilles or Forum Julii to Ostium. But the advice +of one of my neighbours, who had himself been a great +traveller, made me alter this plan, and resolve to commit +myself to the care of an experienced mariner who +was just about to sail for Italy, by the way of the pillars +of Hercules, in a vessel laden chiefly with tin; and on +reaching the Clausentum, I found this man, with several +passengers, ready for the voyage. +</p> + +<p> +For the first three or four days, I was so afflicted by the +motion of the vessel, that I could bestow little attention +on any external object; my eyes were so confused and +dazzled, that I saw nothing beyond the corner of the deck +on which I had caused my carpets to be laid; and a few +ejaculations to Castor and Pollux were all the articulate +sounds that I uttered. By degrees, however, the weight +of my depression began to be alleviated; and at intervals, +more particularly during the night watches, if I +was not altogether in possession of myself, I was at +least well enough to enjoy a sort of giddy delight in +<pb n="6"/><anchor id="Pg006"/>watching the billows as they rose and retreated from +the prow. There were moments, also, in which the +behaviour of Boto, under this new species of calamity, +could furnish me, as it had already done the more +hardy of my fellow-voyagers, with store of mirth. +Near us frequently, upon the deck, sat a Captain of +the Prætorian Bands, who, more than any other of +these, displayed a florid complexion and cheerful eye, +unalterable by the fluctuation of the waters. This +Sabinus had served in all the wars of Agricola, and +accompanied him even in his perilous circumnavigation +of the islands which lie scattered to the north of Britain. +He had also gone back to Rome with his commander, +not, like him, to extenuate imperial jealousy by the +affectation of indolence, but to seek for new occupation +on some other disturbed frontier of the Empire. In +Syria and Cappadocia he had spent some years; after +which, he had attended the Emperor himself through +Mæsia and Illyricum, and all those countries he traversed +and retraversed, during that shameful contest in +which so many Roman eagles were made the prey of +barbarous enemies, and which terminated at last in +that cowardly treaty, by which Domitian granted a +diadem to Decebalus, and condescended to place the +Roman Senate among the tributaries of a Dacian. Our +friend had also strutted his part in that gorgeous triumph, +or rather succession of triumphs, by which the defeated +and disgraced Prince, on his return from the Ister, +mocked the eyes and ears of the incredulous and indignant +Romans. In a word, he had partaken in all kinds +of fortune, good and evil, and preserved his rubicundity +and equanimity unaltered in them all. Having attained +<pb n="7"/><anchor id="Pg007"/>to a situation of some dignity, he had now been visiting +Britain on a special message from the new Emperor, +and was returning in the hope that no future accident +of fortune, or princely caprice, would ever again make +it necessary for him to quit the shows and festivities of +the capital. +</p> + +<p> +This good-natured man sat down beside my suffering +peasant, endeavouring to withdraw his attention from +the pangs of his sickness, by pointing out the different +boats which came in view as we held on from the +Gobæan rocks, keeping close to the shore as we went, +in order to shun, as well as we could, the customary +fury of the Aquitanic Ocean. <q>Behold these fishing-vessels,</q> +he would cry, <q>which have undoubtedly been +upon the coast of Rutupia for oysters, or it may be +about the mouth of yonder Ligoris for turbot, and are +now stretching all their canvass to get home with their +booty to Italy. Smooth be your winds and fair your +passage, oh rare fish!</q> To which the downcast Boto +would reply, <q>Lavish not, oh master, your good wishes +upon the mute fish, which have been tossed about all +their lives, but reserve them rather for me (unhappy) +who am thus tormented in an unnatural and intolerable +manner;</q> or perhaps, <q>Speak not, I beseech you, of +oysters, or of turbot, or of any other eatable, for I believe +I shall never again feel hungry, so grievously are all my +internal parts discomposed. Oh, that I had never left +my native fields, and bartered the repose of my whole +body for the vain hope of gratification to my eyes!</q> +</p> + +<p> +By degrees, however, custom reconciled all of us to +the motion of the bark, and the weather being calm +during the greater part of the voyage, I enjoyed, at my +<pb n="8"/><anchor id="Pg008"/>leisure, the beauties, both of the sea, and of the shores +alongst which we glided. From time to time, we put +in for water and other necessaries, to various sea-ports +of the Spanish Peninsula; but our stay was never so +long at any place as to admit of us losing sight of our +vessel. Our chief delight, indeed, consisted in the softness +and amenity of the moonlight nights we spent in +sailing along the coasts of Mauritania,—now the dark +mountains of the family of Atlas throwing their shadows +far into the sea—and anon, its margin glittering with +the white towers of Siga, or Gilba, or Cartenna, or +some other of the rich cities of that old Carthaginian +region. On such nights it was the custom of all the +passengers to be congregated together upon the deck, +where the silent pleasures of contemplation were, from +time to time, interrupted by some merry song chanted +in chorus by the mariners, or perhaps some wild barbarian +ditty, consecrated by the zeal of Boto to the +honour of some ancient indigenous hero of the North. +Nor did our jovial Prætorian disdain to contribute now +and then to the amusement of the assembly, by some +boisterous war-song, composed, perhaps, by some light-hearted +young spearman, which our centurion might +have learned by heart, without any regular exertion, +from hearing it sung around many a British and Dacian +watch-fire. +</p> + +<p> +Thus we contrived to pass the time in a cheerful +manner, till we reached the Lilybæan promontory. We +tarried there two days to refit some part of our rigging, +and then stretched boldly across the lower sea, towards +the mouth of the Tiber. We were becalmed, however, +for a whole day and night, after we had come within +<pb n="9"/><anchor id="Pg009"/>sight of the Pharos of Ostium, where, but for the small +boats that came out to us with fresh fish and fruit, we +should have had some difficulty in preserving our patience; +for, by this time, our stock of wine was run to +the last cup, and nothing remained to be eat but some +mouldy biscuit which had survived two voyages between +Italy and Britain. During this unwelcome delay, the +Prætorian endeavoured to give me as much information +as he could about the steps necessary to be +pursued on my arrival in the city. But, to say truth, +his experience had lain chiefly among martial expeditions +and jovial recreations, so that I could easily +perceive he was no great master of the rules of civil life. +From him, however, I was glad to find, that the reputation +of Licinius was really as great at Rome as it had +been represented in our province; and, indeed, he treated +me with a yet greater measure of attention after he was +informed of my relationship to that celebrated jurist. +</p> + +<p> +Early in the morning, a light breeze sprung up from +the west, and with joyful acclamations the sails were +once again uplifted. The number of mariners on board +was insufficient for impelling the heavily laden vessel +altogether by the force of oars, but now they did not +refuse to assist the favouring breeze with strenuous and +lively exertion. The Prætorian cheered and incited +them by his merry voice, and even the passengers were +not loath to assist them in this labour. My slave, among +the rest, joined in the toil; but his awkwardness soon +relieved him from his seat on the bench; a disgrace +which he would have shared with his master, had I +been equally officious. +</p> + +<p> +Ere long, we could trace with exactness those +enor<pb n="10"/><anchor id="Pg010"/>mous structures by which the munificence of Augustus +had guarded and adorned that great avenue of nations +to the imperial city. Those mountains of marble, projected +on either side into the deep, surpassed every +notion I had formed of the extent to which art may +carry its rivalry of nature. Their immovable masses +were garnished here and there with towers and battlements, +on which the Prætorian pointed out to me the +frame-work of those terrible catapults, and other engines +of warfare, of which no specimens have ever been +seen in Britain. +</p> + +<p> +No sooner had we stept upon the shore, than we were +surrounded by a great throng of hard-favoured persons, +who pulled us by the cloak, with innumerable interrogations +and offers of service. Among these, the varieties +of form, complexion, and accent, were such, that we +could not regard them without especial wonder; for it +appeared as if every tribe and language under heaven +had sent some representative to this great seaport of +Rome. The fair hair and blue eye of the Gaul or German, +might here be seen close by the tawny skin of the +Numidian or Getulian slave, or the shining blackness +of the Ethiopian visage. The Greek merchant was +ready, with his Thracian bondsman carrying his glittering +wares upon his back; the usurer was there, with +his arms folded closely in his mantle; nor was the +Chaldean or Assyrian soothsayer awanting, with his air +of abstraction and his flowing beard. +</p> + +<p> +Boto, as if alarmed with the prevailing bustle, and +fearful lest some untoward accident should separate us, +kept close behind me, grasping my gown. But our good +friend Sabinus did not long leave us in this perplexity; +<pb n="11"/><anchor id="Pg011"/>for, having hastily engaged the master of a small barge +to carry him to Rome, he insisted that I should partake +of this easy method of conveyance. We found the +vessel small but convenient, furnished with a red awning, +under which cushions and carpets were already +stretched out for our repose. The oars were soon in +motion, and we began to emerge from among the forest +of masts with a rapidity which astonished me; for the +multitude of vessels of all sizes, continually crossing and +re-crossing, was so great, that at first I expected every +moment some dangerous accident might occur. +</p> + +<p> +By degrees, however, such objects failed to keep alive +my attention; the sleeplessness of the preceding night, +and the abundance of an Ostian repast, conspiring to +lull me into a gentle doze, which continued for I know +not what space. I awoke, greatly refreshed, and found +we had made considerable progress; for the continual +succession of stately edifices already indicated the vicinity +of the metropolis. The dark green of the venerable +groves, amidst which the buildings were, for the most +part, embosomed, and the livelier beauties of the parterres +which here and there intervened between these +and the river, afforded a soft delight to my eyes, which +had so long been fatigued with the uniform flash and +dazzle of the Mediterranean waves, and the roughness +of the sea-beaten precipices. The minute and elaborate +cultivation every where visible, the smoothness of the +shorn turf on the margin, the graceful foliage of the +ancient planes and sycamores,—but, above all, the sublimity +of the porticos and arcades, and the air of established +and inviolable elegance which pervaded the +whole region, kept my mind in pleasurable wonder. +<pb n="12"/><anchor id="Pg012"/>Here and there, a gentle winding conducted us through +some deep and massy shade of oaks and elms; whose +branches, stretching far out from either side, diffused a +sombre and melancholy blackness almost entirely over +the face of Tiber. Loitering carelessly, or couched +supinely, beneath some of these hoary branches, we +could see, from time to time, the figure of some stately +Roman, or white-robed lady, with her favourite scroll +of parchment in her hand. The cool and glassy rippling +of the water produced a humming music of stillness in +the air, which nothing disturbed, save only the regular +dash of the oars, and, now and then, the deep and +strenuous voice of our cautious helmsman. Anon would +ensue some glimpse of the open champaign, descending +with all its wealth of golden sheaves to the very brink +of the river—or, perhaps, the lively courts of a farmyard +stretching along the margin of some tributary +streamlet—or some long expanse of level meadow, with +herds of snow-white heifers. I could not gaze upon the +rich and splendid scene without reverting, with a strange +mixture of emotions, to the image of this my native +land; its wild forests, shaggy with brushwood and unprofitable +coppice, through which of old the enormous +wild deer stalked undisturbed, except by the adder of +the grass, or the obscene fly of the thicket; its little +patches of corn and meadow, laboriously rescued from +the domain of the wild beast, and rudely fortified +against his continual incursions;—the scattered hamlets +of this Brigian valley, and my own humble villa—then +humbler than it is now. Trees, and temples, and +gardens, and meadows, and towns, and villages, were, +ere long, lost in one uniform sobriety of twilight; and +<pb n="13"/><anchor id="Pg013"/>it was already quite dark, when the centurion, pointing +to the left bank, said, <q>Behold the Gardens of Cæsar: +beyond, is the Portian Gate, and the street of the Rural +Lares. In a few moments we shall see the lights of the +Sublician Bridge, and be in the city.</q> At these words I +started up, and gazing forward, could penetrate through +the mists of evening into the busy glare of a thousand +streets and lanes, opening upon the river. The old +wall was already visible; where, after having swept +round the region towards the Vatican and Janicular +Hills, it brings the last of its turrets close down to the +Tiber, over against the great dock-yards by the Field +of Brutus. +</p> + +<p> +Through a forest of triremes, galleys, and all sorts of +craft, we then shot on to the bridge—beneath the centre +arch of which our steersman conducted us. Beyond, +such was the hum of people on the quays, and such the +star-like profusion of lights reflected in the water, that +we doubted not we had already reached the chief seat +of the bustle of Rome. On, however, we still held our +course, till the theatre of Marcellus rose like a mountain +on our right. It was there that we ran our bark into +the shore, not far from the little bridge—the third as +you ascend the river—which conducts to the Island +and the Temple of Æsculapius. While our friend was +settling matters with the master, and the attendants +were bringing out our baggage, I stood by myself on +the elevated quay. Here a long tier of reflected radiance +bespoke, it may be, the vicinity of some splendid portico—of +palace, or temple, or bath, or theatre; there a +broad and steady blaze of burning red, indicated the +abode of artizans, resolved, as it seemed, on carrying +<pb n="14"/><anchor id="Pg014"/>their toil into the bosom of the night. Between—some +speck of lustre betrayed, perhaps, the lamp of the solitary +student, or the sober social hour of some peaceful +family, assembled around the hearth of their modest +lares. Behold me then, said I, in the capital of the +globe; but were I to be swallowed up this moment in +the waves of Tiber, not one of all these lights would be +dimmed. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="2" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="15"/><anchor id="Pg015"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter II"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter II"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER II.</hi></head> + +<p> +Being told that my relation had his residence at no +great distance, the friendly Sabinus insisted upon escorting +me thither in safety. We walked, therefore, along +two or three proud streets, which brought us near to +the Pantheon of Agrippa, and there the house was +easily pointed out to us; its porch decorated with +recent palm-branches, which the Centurion said must +have been placed there by the joyful hands of some +fortunate client. Here having thanked this kind person, +and left honest Boto among the crowd of slaves in +the vestibule, I was speedily conducted into the presence +of the Patrician. +</p> + +<p> +I found him in a small upper chamber, lighted by a +single silver lamp suspended from the roof, enjoying, +as it appeared, repose and relaxation after the exertions +of the day. He was reclining when I entered; and +although supper was long over, some fruits and other +trifling things still remained on the board. At table +with him there was no one present, excepting a Greek +of solemn aspect, whom he introduced to me as the +superintendent of his son’s education, and Sextus +himself, a modest and ingenuous youth, who sat at +the lower extremity of his father’s couch. He was +<pb n="16"/><anchor id="Pg016"/>indeed a very mild and amiable young man, and I +had more pleasure, after a space, in surveying his features, +than the more marked lineaments of the other +two. At first, however, nothing riveted my attention +so much as the energetic physiognomy of the Senator. +The forepart of his head was already quite bald, although +the darkness of the short curls behind testified +that age was not the cause of this deformity. His eyes +were black and rapid, and his eyebrows vibrated in a +remarkable manner, not only when he spoke, but even +when he was silent; indicating, as it appeared, by their +transitions, every new train of thought and imagination +within his mind. His style of conversation was quick +and fervid, and his gestures vehement as he spake; it +being apparent, that, from restlessness and vanity of +disposition, he was continually exercising a needless +measure of mental activity and anxiety. Not satisfied +with his own sufficient richness of ideas, no thought +could be expressed which he did not immediately seize +upon, and explain, even to him by whom it had been +first suggested, with much fluency and earnestness of +illustration. On the other hand, the guest, who wore +a long beard reaching to his girdle, preserved in all +things an uncommon demureness of manner, restraining +every salient movement of his mind, and watching, +with the gravity of a Numa, the glancing eyes and +sharp features of his patron. A roll of yellow parchment +graced his left hand, but the other was employed +in selecting from the table such articles as were most +agreeable to his palate. Licinius, although meagre in +person, and at that time parched with declamation, +seemed to live in such a state of intellectual excitement, +<pb n="17"/><anchor id="Pg017"/>that he thought little either of eating or drinking; +therefore, the Athenian, resigning, for the most part, +his share of the conversation, amused himself, in exchange, +with the more trivial gratifications abandoned +to him by his host. Nor, if one might draw any conclusion +from his complexion and figure, was this the +first occasion on which Xerophrastes had exercised that +species of humility. +</p> + +<p> +When Licinius had inquired of me concerning my +native place, and also given a few words to the affairs +which had brought me to the city, his conversation +was naturally directed to subjects more new to me, if +not more interesting to him. <q>You would observe,</q> +said he, <q>the palm branches at my door. They were +won to-day by a five hours’ harangue before the Centumviri. +It is only in contests such as these that men +of my order have now any opportunity to exercise +themselves, and preserve some remembrance of those +ancient worthies and great public characters that once +adorned the state. To these things, therefore, young +kinsman, I entirely devote myself; nor aim, like other +citizens of rank, at passing the day in diversion, and +ending it with luxuries. At supper my table is furnished +with moderate fare, while in other houses I +know not how many roasted boars and pompous sturgeons +have been regaling with the rich perfume of their +sauces and stuffing, guests who love the meat more than +the man who gives it. This learned person knows how +laborious is my course of life, and what an impatient +crowd awaits my appearance every morning. His +pupil will, I hope, tread in the same steps, and afford +to a future generation the image of the former Licinius.</q> +<pb n="18"/><anchor id="Pg018"/>With these, and the like discourses, he occupied our +ears till it was time to retire; and then intimated that +he had allotted to me an apartment which he expected +I would continually occupy during my residence in the +city. But being informed that I had a British slave +with me, he insisted on having this man sent for, that +he might see him, as he expressed it, before the genuine +unsophisticated barbarian had been corrupted by keeping +company with the cunning menials of the metropolis. +Whereupon, it was commanded that Boto should +come up, and he was forthwith ushered in by a certain +leering varlet, with rings in his ears, whose face resembled +some comic mask in the habitual archness of +its malicious and inquisitive look. +</p> + +<p> +Not few were the bows and scrapes with which my +Briton entered these penetralia; nor was the astonishment +inconsiderable with which the orator regarded +Boto. <q>So, friend,</q> said Licinius,—<q>and you have +ventured to come to Rome, without so much as shaving +your beard?</q> But the merry and good-natured tone +in which these words were uttered, having somewhat +reassured the bashful rustic, he gave a sly side-look +towards the philosopher, (who, I think, had never +once glanced at him,) and replied to Licinius, <q>Pardon +me, O master, for coming thus into your presence; +but I knew not, till Dromo told me, that beards +were worn in Rome only by goats and the wisest of +mankind.</q> The words of the barbarian amused the +orator—but, turning round to his own slave, <q>Ah! +Dromo,</q> said he, <q>do I already recognize the effects of +your teaching?—beware the whip, corrupt not this +good Briton, at your peril.</q> He then asked of Boto +<pb n="19"/><anchor id="Pg019"/>various questions concerning his recent voyage; to all +of which he made answers after his own fashion, sufficiently +sagacious. Great contempt, however, was depicted +on the face of the silent stoic during this conversation; +which he, no doubt, looked upon as a very +unworthy condescension on the part of Licinius; till at +last, having, in a leisurely manner, poured out the last +of the flagon, Xerophrastes arose from his couch and +departed. As he withdrew, he unfortunately struck +his knee on the corner of the table, which elicited from +his stubborn features a sudden contortion. This, however, +he immediately smoothed of, twisting his involuntary +stoop into an obeisance to the Senator. +</p> + +<p> +Young Sextus conducted me to my chamber; and we +conversed together with easy juvenile confidence for +some time before he left me. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="3" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="20"/><anchor id="Pg020"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter III"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter III"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER III.</hi></head> + +<p> +My sleep was sound and sweet; nevertheless, when +the morning began to dawn, I was awakened by its +first glimmerings, and found that my thoughts became +at once too busy to admit of a return to slumber. I +therefore arose, and went to walk in an open gallery, +with which my chamber was connected. This gallery +commanded a prospect of a great part of the city, which +at that hour appeared no less tranquil than stately, +nothing being in motion except a few small boats gliding +here and there upon the river. Neither as yet had +any smoke begun to darken the atmosphere; so that +all things were seen in a serene and steady light, the +shadows falling broadly westward over streets and +squares—but pillars, and obelisks, and arches, rising +up every where with unsullied magnificence into the +bright air of the morning. The numerous poplars and +other lofty trees of the gardens, also, seemed to be rejoicing +in the hour of dew and silence; so fresh and +cheerful was the intermixture of their branches among +the piles of white and yellow marble. Near at hand, +over the groves of the Philoclean Mansion, I could see +the dome of the Pantheon, all burnished with living +gold, and the proud colonnades of the Flaminian Circus, +<pb n="21"/><anchor id="Pg021"/>loaded with armies of brazen statues. Between these +and the river, the theatres of Pompey and Marcellus, +and I know not how many temples, were visible. Across +a more crowded region, to the westward, my eye ascended +to the cliffs and towers of the Capitol; while, +still farther removed from me, (although less elevated in +natural situation,) the gorgeous mansion of the Emperor +was seen, lifted up, like some new and separate city, +upon its enormous fabric of arcades. Behind me, the +Flavian Amphitheatre, the newest and the most majestic +of all Roman edifices, detained the eye for a space +from all that lay beyond it—the splendid mass of the +Esquiline—and those innumerable aqueducts which lie +stretched out, arch after arch, and pillar after pillar, +across the surrounding plain. +</p> + +<p> +As I stood upon a projecting balcony, I heard some +person stepping softly along the floor, and, being +screened by some pillars, looked back into the gallery +without subjecting myself to observation in return. +The noise, I found, was occasioned by one of the slaves +of Licinius, (the same I had remarked over night,) who +had an air of anxious vigilance on this occasion, looking +about from side to side as if afraid of being detected in +some impropriety. I heard him tap at one of the apartments +adjoining my own, and young Sextus, opening +the door, eagerly asked, <q>Well, Dromo, good Dromo, +what news?—Have you seen or heard any thing of her?—Speak +low, I beseech you, and remember that my +preceptor is near.</q> <q>Which preceptor?</q> replied Dromo; +<q>count me your best, and I will teach you how to +manage all besides.</q>—<q>Hush!</q> whispered the young +man; <q>he may be astir with these eternal +parchments.</q><pb n="22"/><anchor id="Pg022"/>—<q>Be easy,</q> returned the slave; <q>I have found out +facts which will serve to bridle that tongue at any +time.</q>—<q>Dromo,</q> said Sextus, <q>have a care; remember +the thong of sleek leather which hangs at the foot +of the stair-case; and many is the time I have saved +you from it; for which you may, perhaps, have to +thank the beauty of her who has rendered you necessary +to me, as much as my own good nature. But +no more idle words at present—what have you to tell +me?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I have just been down,</q> answered he, <q>to the +herb-market. I had made my bargain, and was coming +away, when I met one of old Capito’s men, driving an +ass laden with articles from the country. So I asked +if he was carrying a present to his master’s brother. +He said he had brought nothing for Lucius but a letter; +and that he believed its purport was to invite the two +young ladies, to come out to-day and enjoy the beauty +of the season. I no sooner got this information, than +I ran hither as swiftly as my legs would carry me. +You can easily go out, as if by chance, to pay your +respects to the Patrician.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Ah, Sempronia!</q> sighed Sextus, <q>shall I approach +you at last?—What will she think when she sees me +there?—Oh, how will she speak to me?</q> +</p> + +<p> +While he was uttering these words, Dromo suddenly +started, and came peeping on tiptoe towards the place +where I stood. I stepped from behind my pillar, and +said to the astonished youth, <q>Fear not, Sextus, that +I shall intermeddle with your secrets, or make any use +of what I have accidentally overheard. But I wish you +would satisfy my curiosity, and inform me who is this +<pb n="23"/><anchor id="Pg023"/>lady, and what may be the meaning of all this concealment?</q> +</p> + +<p> +Here Dromo, perceiving that his young master was a +good deal confused, came forward and said, <q>From +observing your looks last night, when I was making a +handle of yon barbarian to torture our friend of the +porch, I think you are a good-natured person, who +would not willingly bring any of us into trouble. The +truth is, that Licinius wishes my young master here to +marry a certain lady, who has already had wet eyes +over the ashes of a first husband; but who is of noble +birth, and very rich. Now Sextus, being only eighteen, +does not like this great lady so well as she likes him; +and has, in fact, lost his heart elsewhere.</q>—<q>Dromo,</q> +answered I, taking young Sextus by the hand as I +spoke, <q>this is a pretty common sort of story; but I +shall take no side till I have seen both of the ladies; +and the sooner your ingenuity can bring that about, +the more shall I be beholden to you.</q>—<q>We shall +try,</q> replied the slave, observing that I had overcome +the reluctance of the lover; <q>but in the meantime I +observe that the clients are beginning to assemble in +the porch, to await the forthcoming of Licinius. Go, +therefore, and get some breakfast, for, by and by, you +will both be expected to accompany the Senator to the +Forum, to hear him plead; which, between ourselves, +will be a six hours’ job for you, unless you manage +matters dexterously.</q> +</p> + +<p> +This hint produced a visible effect on Sextus; but +we went down together immediately to an apartment, +where some bread and grapes were prepared for us; +and there, with much ingenuousness, he opened his +<pb n="24"/><anchor id="Pg024"/>heart to me. But what surprised me most of all, was +to hear, that although he had been enamoured of Sempronia +for several months, and was well acquainted +with several of her relations, he had never yet seen her, +except at certain places of public resort, nor enjoyed +any opportunity of making known his passion. +</p> + +<p> +While I was expressing my astonishment at this circumstance, +we were interrupted by Xerophrastes, who +came to inform us that Licinius, having already descended +into the hall, was about to issue forth, and desirous of +my company, if no other occupation detained me. We +accordingly followed the philosopher, and found his +patron where he had indicated, pacing to and fro, in +the highest state of excitation, like a generous steed +about to scour the field of battle. The waxen effigies +of his ancestors stood at one end of the hall, some of +them defaced with age; and upon these he frequently +fixed his ardent eyes. Seeing me enter, he immediately +cried out, <q>Come hither, young friend, and I shall +presently conduct you to a scene worthy, above all +others, of the curiosity of a stranger.</q> +</p> + +<p> +With this, arranging his gown, and putting himself +into a dignified attitude, he ordered the porter, who +stood chained by the door, to throw wide its massy +valves; which being done, the litigants and consulters, +who were without, received the orator with acclamations, +and surrounded him on all sides. Some of the +poorer ones, I observed kissing the hem of his garment, +and dodging wistfully at his elbows, without ever attracting +a word or look from him; while those of a +higher class came forward more familiarly, seeking to +impress particular circumstances upon his memory, and +<pb n="25"/><anchor id="Pg025"/>paying him compliments on the appearance he had +made the day before in the Centumviral Court. Encircled +by this motley group, he walked towards the +great Forum, followed at a little distance by Sextus, +the preceptor, myself, and some freedmen of his household. +In moving on, we passed, by accident, the door +of another great pleader, by name Bruttianus, who +stood there attended in a similar manner. When he +perceived Licinius, this man took from his door-post a +green palm-branch, and waved it towards us in a vaunting +manner; but our friend, saluting him courteously, +cried out, with his sharp and cutting voice, <q>We shall +try it again.</q> Whereon Xerophrastes, immediately +stepping up to his patron, began thus, <q>How this vain-glorious +person exposes himself!—he is certainly a weak +man; and his tones, by Hermes, are more detestable +than those of an African fowl.</q>—At which words, +Sextus tipped me the wink; but I did not observe that +Licinius was at all displeased with them. Yet, soon +after, Bruttianus having overtaken us, the processions +were joined, and the two pleaders walked the rest of +the way together in a loving manner, exchanging complimentary +speeches; to which Xerophrastes listened +with edifying gravity of visage. +</p> + +<p> +At length we entered that venerable space, every +yard of whose surface is consecrated to the peculiar +memory of some great incident in the history of Rome. +Young Sextus allowed me to contemplate for some +time, with silent wonder, the memorable objects which +conspired to the decoration of this remarkable place; +but after the first gaze of astonishment was satisfied, +proceeded to point out, in order, the names and uses of +<pb n="26"/><anchor id="Pg026"/>the principal structures which rose on every side over +its porticos—above all, of its sublime temples—into +whose cool and shady recesses the eye could here and +there penetrate through the open valves. Nor did the +ancient rostrum from which Tully had declaimed, escape +our observation—nor within its guarding rail of silver, +the rising shoots of the old mysterious fig-tree of Romulus—nor +the rich tesselated pavement which covered +the spot that had once yawned an abyss before the +steady eye of Curtius—nor the resplendent Milliary +pillar which marked the centre of the place. In a word, +had the gathering crowds permitted, I could have willingly +spent many hours in listening to the explanation +of such magnificent objects; but these, and the elevated +voice of Licinius, who was just beginning his harangue, +soon compelled me to attend to things of another description. +</p> + +<p> +Within one of the proud ranges of arcade, on the +side nearest to the Capitoline stairs, a majestic Patrician +had already taken his seat on an elevated tribunal—his +assessors being arranged on a lower bench by his side, +and the orators and clients congregated beneath. When +I heard the clear and harmonious periods of my kinsman; +when I observed with what apparent simplicity +he laid his foundations in a few plain facts and propositions; +with what admirable art he upreared from these +a superstructure of conclusions, equally easy as unexpected; +when he had conducted us to the end of his +argument, and closed with a burst of passionate eloquence, +in which he seemed to leave even himself +behind him, I could not but feel as if I had now for +the first time contemplated the practised strength of +<pb n="27"/><anchor id="Pg027"/>intellect. Yet I have lived to discover that the talent +which so greatly excited my wonder is often possessed +from nature, or acquired through practice, in a measure +which at that time would have afforded me scarcely +inferior delight, by men of no extraordinary rank. +</p> + +<p> +The keen and lively gestures of the fervid Licinius, +whose soul seemed to speak out of every finger he +moved, and who appeared to be altogether immersed +in the cause he pleaded, were succeeded by the solemn +and somewhat pompous stateliness of Bruttianus, who +made a brief pause between every two sentences, as if +he were apprehensive that the mind of the judge could +not keep pace with the stream of his illustrations, and +looked round ever and anon upon the spectators with a +placid and assured smile, rather, as it seemed to me, to +signify his approbation of their taste in applauding +him, than his own pleasure in their applauses. Nevertheless, +he also was a splendid speaker, and his affectation +displeased the more, because it was evidently +unworthy of his understanding. While he was speaking, +I observed that the Stoic preceptor was frequently +shifting his place among the crowd, and muttering +every where expressions of high contempt. But this +did not disgust me so much as the fixed attitude of +ecstasy in which he listened to the discourse of his own +patron, and the pretended involuntary exclamations of +his delight. <q>Oh, admirable cadence!</q> he would say, +<q>I feel as if I were draining a honey-comb. Oh, harmonious +man, where have I, or any other person here, +sucked in such sweetness!</q> These absurd phrases, +however, were caught up forthwith, and repeated by +the numerous young men who hung upon the skirts of +<pb n="28"/><anchor id="Pg028"/>the orator, and seemed, indeed, to be drinking in nectar +from the speech, if one might judge from their countenances. +From their taking notes in their tablets from +time to time, and from the knowing looks they assumed +at the commencement of every new chain of argument, +I guessed that these might be embryo jurisconsults, +preparing themselves by their attendance for future +exertions of the same species; and, indeed, when I +listened to their conversation at the close of every +speech, I thought I could perceive in their tones and +accents, studied mimicry of the natural peculiarities of +Licinius, Bruttianus, and the other orators. Altogether, +the scene was as full of amusement as of novelty, and +I could willingly have remained to the end of the discussion. +But my eyes chanced to fall upon young +Sextus, and I could not but see that his mind was +occupied in matters remote from the business of the +Forum. He stood with his arms folded in his gown, +and his eyes fixed upon the ground, only lifting them +up from time to time with an impatient air towards a +side entrance, or to observe by the shadows on the porticos +what progress the sun was making. +</p> + +<p> +Perceiving, at length, that Xerophrastes had his back +turned to us, and that his father was engaged with his +tablets, he plucked me by the sleeve. I understood his +meaning, and followed him quickly through the crowd; +nor did we look back till we had left the noise of the +Forensic assembly entirely behind us. <q>I am depriving +you,</q> he said, <q>of no great gratification, for that old +creature is, indeed, possessed of much natural shrewdness, +but he is bitter from observing that his reputation +is rather eclipsed by younger people, and looks like +<pb n="29"/><anchor id="Pg029"/>some worn-out and discarded cat, grinning from the +top of the wall at the dalliance of some sleeker rival. +You could find no delight in the angry sneerings of +such an envious person; and his age would prevent +you, at the same time, from willingly giving way to +contemptuous emotions. I will be your guide to the +villa. But if any questions be asked on our return, +you can say I was anxious to shew you something of +the other regions of the city.</q> +</p> + +<p> +He hurried me through noble streets, and past innumerable +edifices, before each of which I would gladly +have paused. Nevertheless, seeing him wrapped up in +anxious thoughts, I did not oppose myself to his inclinations; +and ere long, having passed the Hill of Gardens, +I found that we had gained the eastern limit of +the city. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="4" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="30"/><anchor id="Pg030"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter IV"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter IV"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER IV.</hi></head> + +<p> +A sharp walk of about an hour and a half on the +Salarean Way, brought us within sight of the Suburban +of Capito. +</p> + +<p> +A lofty wall protected the fields of this retirement +from the intrusive eyes of passengers. We entered by +a small side-door, and found ourselves, as if by some +magical delusion, transported from the glare of a Roman +highway, into the depth and silence of some primeval +forest. No nicely trimmed path conducted our feet. +Every thing had at least the appearance of being left +as nature had formed it. The fern rustled beneath us +as we moved; the ivy was seen spreading its careless +tresses from tree to tree; the fawn bounded from the +thicket. By degrees, however, the gloom lessened, till +at length, over an open space of lawn, we perceived the +porch of entrance, and a long line of colonnade. We +passed under the porch, and across a paved court where +a fountain was playing, into the great hall, which commanded +all the other side of the place—a noble prospect +of elaborate gardens gradually rising into shady hills, +and lost in a distance of impenetrable wood. +</p> + +<p> +Here a freedman attended us, who informed us that +Capito had retired into a sequestered part of the grounds +<pb n="31"/><anchor id="Pg031"/>with some friends from the city; but that if we chose +we could easily join him there. We assented, and, +following his guidance, ere long traversed no narrow +space of luxuriant cultivation. From one perfumed +terrace we descended to another; till, having reached a +certain green and mossy walk, darkened by a natural +arching of vines and mulberries, the freedman pointed +to a statue at the farther end, and told us it stood over +against the entrance of his master’s summer-house. +When we reached the statue, however, we could perceive +no building. The shaded avenue terminated in +face of a precipitous rock, from which there fell a small +stream that was received in a massive basin, where +the waters foamed into spray without transgressing the +margin. A thousand delicious plants and far-sought +flowers clustered around the base of the rock and the +brink of the fountain, and the humming of innumerable +bees mingled with the whispers of the stream. We +stood for a moment uncertain whether we should move +on or retire, when we heard one calling to us from +beyond; and passing to the other side of the basin, +descried, between the rock and the falling water, a +low entrance into what seemed to be a natural cave or +grotto. We stooped, and found ourselves within one +of the most luxurious retirements ever haunted by +the foot of Dryad. A sparry roof hung like a canopy +of gems and crystals over a group of sculptured Nymphs +and Fawns, which were placed on a rustic pedestal +within a circular bath shaped out of the living stone. +Around the edge of the waveless waters that slumbered +in this green recess, were spread carpets rich with the +dyes of Tyrian art, whereon Capito was reposing with +<pb n="32"/><anchor id="Pg032"/>his friends. He received Sextus with kindness, and me +with politeness, introducing us both to his companions, +who were three in number—all of them, like himself, +advanced in years, and two of them wearing long beards, +though their demeanour was destitute of any thing like +the affected stateliness of our friend Xerophrastes. These +two, as our host informed us, were Greeks and Rhetoricians—the +third, a Patrician of the house of the +Pontii, devoted, like himself, to the pursuits of philosophy +and the pleasures of a literary retirement. +</p> + +<p> +They were engaged, when we joined them, in a conversation +which had sprung from the perusal of some new +metaphysical treatise. One of the Greeks, the more +serene-looking of the pair, was defending its doctrines +with earnestness of manner, although in a low and measured +cadence of voice; the other espoused the opposite +side, with quickness of utterance and severe animation +of look; while the two lordly Romans seemed to be contenting +themselves, for the most part, with listening, +although it was not difficult to perceive from their +countenances, that the one sided in opinion with the +Stoic, and Capito himself with the Epicurean. +</p> + +<p> +They all arose presently, and proceeded to walk together, +without interrupting the conversation, along the +same shaded avenue which Sextus and myself had +already traversed. He and I moved along with them, +but a little in their rear—my companion being still +too much abstracted to bestow his attention on what +they were saying; while I myself, being but little an +adept in such mysteries, amused myself rather with the +exterior and manners of the men, than with the merits +of the opinions they were severally defending. The +<pb n="33"/><anchor id="Pg033"/>Greeks were attired in the graceful costume of their +country, which was worn, however, far more gracefully +by the Epicurean than his brother,—the materials of +his robe being delicate, and its folds arranged with +studied elegance, whereas the coarse garment of the +Stoic had apparently engaged less attention. Nevertheless, +there was a more marked difference between the +attire of Capito and that of Pontius Mamurra; for the +former was arrayed in a tunic of the whitest cloth, +beneath which appeared fine linen rollers, swathing his +thighs and legs, to protect them, as I supposed, from +the heat and the insects, and a pair of slippers, of dark +violet-coloured cloth, embroidered with silver flowers; +while the other held his arms folded in the drapery of +an old but genuine toga, which left his yet strong and +sinewy nether limbs exposed to the weather, all except +what was covered by his tall black sandals and their +senatorian crescents. +</p> + +<p> +As we passed on, our host from time to time directed +the attention of his visiters, more particularly of the +two Greeks, to the statues of bronze and marble, which +were placed at convenient intervals along the terraces +of his garden. The symmetry of these figures, and the +graceful simplicity of their attitudes, inspired me with +I know not what of calm and soothing pleasure such +as I had never before tasted, so that I thought I could +have lingered for ever amidst these haunts of philosophic +luxury. The images were, for the most part, portraits +of illustrious men—Greeks, Romans—sages and heroes; +but beautiful female forms were not wanting, nor majestic +representations of gods and demi-gods, and all the +ethereal imaginations of the Grecian poets. Seeing the +<pb n="34"/><anchor id="Pg034"/>name of Jupiter inscribed upon one of the pedestals, I +paused for a moment to contemplate the glorious personification +of might and wisdom, depositing, at the +same time, a handful of roses at the feet of the statue—upon +which I could observe that my behaviour furnished +some mirth to the Epicurean Demochares; +while, on the contrary, Euphranor, the disciple of +the Porch, approved of what I did, and rebuked his +companion for saying any thing that might even by +possibility disturb the natural piety of an innocent +youth. But the Roman Stoic stood by with a smile of +stately scorn; and utter indifference was painted on the +countenance of Capito. At another time, Sextus having +staid behind to examine the beauties of a certain statue +of Diana, which represented the goddess stretched out +in careless slumber on the turf, with a slender grayhound +at her feet, the Epicurean began to rally me on +having a taste inferior to that of my friend, whose +devotion, he said, could not be blamed, being paid to +an exquisite imitation of what the great Nature of +things had decreed should ever be the most agreeable of +all objects in the eyes of a person of his age.—<q>Whereas +you,</q> continued he, <q>appear to be more occupied with +deep-hung eye-brows, ambrosial beards, and fantastic +thunderbolts, and the other exuberances of Homeric +imagination.</q> +</p> + +<p> +To this reproach I made no reply, but Capito immediately +began to recite some verses of a Hymn of Calimachus, +in which both the Greeks joined him; nor +could any thing be more delightful than the harmonious +numbers. A sudden exclamation of my friend, however, +interrupted them, and Capito, looking up a long +<pb n="35"/><anchor id="Pg035"/>straight pathway, said, <q>Come, Valerius, we shall see +whether you or Sextus is the more gallant to living +beauties, for here come my nieces. I assure you, I +know not of which of them I am the more proud; but +Sempronia has more of the Diana about her, so it is +probable she may find a ready slave in our Sextus.</q> +</p> + +<p> +We advanced, and the uncle, having tenderly saluted +them, soon presented us to their notice. Sextus blushed +deeply when he found himself introduced to Sempronia, +while in her smile, although she looked at him as if +to say she had never seen him before, I thought I could +detect a certain half-suppressed something of half-disdainful +archness—the colour in her cheeks, at the same +time, being not entirely unmoved. She was, indeed, a +very lovely girl, and in looking on her light dancing +play of features, I could easily sympathize with the +young raptures of my friend. Her dress was such as +to set off her charms to the utmost advantage, for the +bright green of her Byssine robe, although it would +have been a severe trial to any ordinary complexion, +served only to heighten the delicious brilliancy of hers. +A veil, of the same substance and colour, richly embroidered +with flowers of silver tissue, fell in flowing drapery +well-nigh to her knees. Her hair was almost entirely +concealed by this part of her dress, but a single braid +of the brightest nut-brown was visible low down on +her polished forehead. Her eyes were black as jet, and +full of a nymph-like vivacity. +</p> + +<p> +The other, Athanasia, was not a dazzling beauty. Taller +than her cousin, and darker-haired, but with eyes rather +light than otherwise, of a clear, somewhat melancholy +gray—with a complexion paler than is usual in Italy, +<pb n="36"/><anchor id="Pg036"/>a demeanour hovering between cheerfulness and innocent +gravity, and attired with a vestal simplicity in the +old Roman tunic, and cloak of white cloth—it is possible +that most men might have regarded her less than +the other. A single star of diamonds, planted high up +among her black hair, was the only ornament she +wore. +</p> + +<p> +At the request of the younger lady, we all returned +to the grotto, in the neighbourhood of which, as I have +already mentioned, our tasteful host had placed the +rarest of his exotic plants, some of which Sempronia +was now desirous of inspecting. As we paced again +slowly over those smooth-shaven alleys of turf, and +between those rows of yews and box, clipped into regular +shapes, which abounded in this more artificial region, +the conversation, which the appearance of the cousins +had disturbed, was resumed; although, as out of regard +to their presence, the voices of the disputants preserved +a lower and milder tone than before. I must confess, +however, that mild as was the manner of the discourse, +I could not help being somewhat astonished, that a +polite Roman could permit such topics to be discussed +in the hearing of females; above all, that he did not +interpose to prevent Demochares from throwing out so +many sarcastic reflections concerning the deities whose +statues decorated the garden. A beautiful Mercury, +in particular, which we all paused to admire, elicited +many observations, that I could easily see were far +from being agreeable to the fair cousins. But greatest +of all was my wonder at the behaviour of Capito himself, +who, after we had again entered that delightful +grotto, turned himself to me as if peculiarly, and began +<pb n="37"/><anchor id="Pg037"/>a deliberate and ingenious piece of declamation concerning +the tenets of his favourite philosophy;—such +as the fortuitous concourse of atoms, the transitory and +fluctuating nature of all things, and the necessity of +snatching present enjoyments, as nothing permanent +can be discovered whereon to repose the mind. With +great elegance, indeed, did he enlarge on these golden +theories, nor did he fail to intersperse his discourse with +many exquisite verses from Lucretius and other poetical +followers of his sect. Such, however, was the earnestness +of his declamation, that I could not help believing +him to be quite sincere to what he said, and asked him, +not without anxiety, whether he had all his life been +an Epicurean, or whether it was only of late that he +had espoused that discipline. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Valerius,</q> said he, <q rend="post: none">the question is not discreditable +to your tender age and provincial education. To be born +wise, Fate or Heaven has denied to the human race. It +is their privilege to win wisdom for themselves; the fault +is their own, if they do not die wise. When the stripling +enters upon the theatre of the world, bright hopes are +around him, and he moves onward in the buoyancy of +conscious power. The pride of young existence is the +essence and extract of all his innumerable sensations. +Rejoicing in the feeling of the real might that is, it is his +delight to think—to dream—of might existing and +exerted as for ever. New to the material, but still more +to the moral world, he believes in the stability of all +things whose transitory nature has not been exhibited +before him. New to the tricks of mankind, he believes +that to be said truly, which, why it should be said falsely, +he is unable to conjecture. For him, superstition has +<pb n="38"/><anchor id="Pg038"/>equal potency to darken the past, and illuminate the +future. At that early period, when ignorance is of +itself sufficient to produce a certain happiness, the ambition +is too high to admit such doctrines as I have no +shame in avowing. But time moves on, and every +hour some tender plant is crushed beneath his tread. +The spirit clings long to its delusions. The promise +that is destroyed to-day springs into life to-morrow in +some new shape; and Hope, like some warring deity of +your poets, bleeds and sickens only to revive again. But +disappointment at length gathers to itself the vigour of +an enduring form. The horizon becomes colder around +us—the soul waxes faint and more faint within. It is +then that man begins to recognize the true state, not +of his own nature alone, but of all things that surround +him—that having tasted much of evil, he is taught to +feel the value of good—and weaning himself from vain-glorious +dreams, learns the great lesson of wisdom, to +enjoy the moments as they pass—to snatch some solid +pleasure, at least, amidst a world of vision and imagination; +so, in a word, as the poet has expressed it, he +may not have reason to complain in the hour of death +that he has never lived.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>In me,</q> he continued, <q>you behold one that has +gone through the experience necessary to produce an +entire acquiescence in these doctrines. I am one of +those, Valerius, who have resolved to concentrate, after +this fashion, the whole of my dreams upon the hour +that is. There are not wanting, indeed, here and elsewhere, +persons who profess the same theories, only in +the view of finding excuse and shelter for the practice +of vice. But till it be proved that the practice of vice +<pb n="39"/><anchor id="Pg039"/>is the best means of enjoyment, in vain shall it be +asserted that our doctrine is essentially adverse to +virtue. The mistakes or the misdeeds of individuals +must be estimated for nothing; for where is the doctrine +that may not be shewn to have been defended by +impure livers? The founder of our sect is acknowledged, +by its most virulent enemies, to have been the +most blameless of men, and they, I must take leave to +believe, can never be sincere friends of virtue, who +doubt, that he who is a true worshipper of pleasure, may +also be the worshipper of virtue.</q> +</p> + +<p> +There was a certain something, as I thought, more +like suppressed melancholy than genuine hilarity, in +the expression of the old man’s face, as well as in the +tone of his voice, while he gave utterance to these +sentiments; nor did any of those present appear +desirous of protracting the argument; although I did +not imagine from their looks that any of them had +altered their opinion. What, however, I could not +help remarking in a particular manner, was the gentle +regret painted in the countenance of the elder niece, +while Capito was speaking. The maiden sate over +against him all the while, her cheek supported on her +left hand, with an expression of tender affection. From +time to time, indeed, she cast her eye upward with a +calm smile, but immediately resumed her attitude of +pensive abstraction. Her uncle took her hand in his +when he had done speaking, and kissed it gently, as if +to apologize for having said any thing disagreeable to +her. She smiled again upon the sceptic, and walked by +herself, (for I could not help following her with my +eye,) down into a dark walk of pines that branched off +<pb n="40"/><anchor id="Pg040"/>at the right hand from the entrance into the grotto. +There I saw her stoop and pluck a pale flower. This +she placed in her bosom, and then rejoined us with +a more cheerful aspect; after which, we all walked +towards the villa. Nor did it escape my notice, that, +although Sempronia appeared willing to avoid Sextus +as we went, it always happened, by some accident or +other, that he was nearer to her than any other person +of the company. +</p> + +<p> +They were both at a little distance behind the rest of +the party, when Euphranor addressed himself to me, +saying, <q>Is not this youth, your companion, the same +that is under the guidance of a certain Xerophrastes?</q>—<q>The +same,</q> said I, <q>and a wary, sage-looking +Athenian is his tutor. I believe he also is of the Porch.</q>—<q>No +doubt,</q> interrupted Demochares; <q>he has a +beard that Zeno might have been proud of, and walks +as if he conceived himself to be the chief pillar of the +Porch, if not the Porch itself.</q>—<q>Who shall prevent +Demochares from having his jest?</q> replied Euphranor. +<q>The man is by birth a Thessalian, and his gutturals +still remind one strongly of his native hills.</q>—I would +gladly have heard more of it, but he was interrupted +by the nearer approach of the rest. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="5" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="41"/><anchor id="Pg041"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter V"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter V"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER V.</hi></head> + +<p> +Before the hour of taking the bath, we exercised +ourselves for some time in the tennis-court, where I +could not but admire, especially after having heard +Capito philosophise, the vigour and agility displayed +by him as well as his companions. I was then conducted +into the baths, where, after being washed and +perfumed in the most luxurious manner, I was arrayed +in an elegant supper-garment by one of the slaves of +our host. At table we were joined again by the ladies, +who both reclined on the same couch with their +uncle. Three comely youths attended us, in short +tunics, and girt with napkins of fine linen; but, +during the repast, an ancient female slave stood in +silence behind the couch of the young ladies. A small +fountain of alabaster played between two tall candelabra +of the same material, at the farther end of the apartment; +and a young damsel stood beside them, swinging +slowly from time to time a silver censer, from which +clouds of delicate odour rolled up to the mirrored roof. +</p> + +<p> +In all things the feast was splendid; but there was +no appearance of useless or vain ostentation. Every +thing was conducted in a style of great calmness and +order, without the least formality. The repast +inter<pb n="42"/><anchor id="Pg042"/>rupted not the conversation, which went on in a manner +to me equally instructive as entertaining; although I +must confess the presence of Athanasia sometimes rendered +me inattentive to what was spoken. I could +not divest myself of the idea, that some unknown circumstance +was pressing on the mind of the fair creature, +and that when she smiled upon those who addressed +her, it was sometimes to conceal her ignorance of that +which had been said. +</p> + +<p> +Being asked by Capito, I endeavoured, among other +things, to inform him and his friends, as far as I could, +concerning the then condition of this island, which, +more particularly after the exploits of Agricola, had +come to be a subject of some interest. In return, the +chief topics which then occupied the capital were discussed +by them, as I perceived, in a great measure on +my account; and I listened with delight to the praises, +which they all agreed on bestowing on the new Emperor. +Many anecdotes were narrated, which tended to +strengthen the feelings of admiration, with which I had +already been accustomed to contemplate his character. +But others were told, as the conversation went on, which +I could not so easily reconcile with the idea I had formed +of him. +</p> + +<p> +For example, I was somewhat disturbed with what +they told me concerning his treatment of the Christians, +who, as we understood in Britain, had been suffered to +live in tranquillity ever since Nerva acceded to the +empire. But now, from the circumstances related, it +appeared that the mild and humane Trajan had taken +up, in regard to this sect, the whole aversion of Domitian; +every day some cruel catastrophe was made known +<pb n="43"/><anchor id="Pg043"/>of some person who had adopted their tenets. Being +ignorant of the nature of those tenets, and having heard +only in general terms that they were of Jewish origin, +dark, and mystical, I was at a loss to account for the +extreme hatred of the Prince, or rather for his condescending +to give himself so much trouble concerning a +matter so obscure and seemingly trifling. +</p> + +<p> +Capito, however, assured me, that although I might +have good occasion to wonder at the steps taken by the +Emperor, it would no longer be said by any one, that the +progress of the Christian sect deserved to be considered +as a matter either of obscurity, or of no consequence. +<q>On the contrary,</q> said he, <q>from what you have just +heard of the numbers and quality of those that have +lately suffered various punishments, you cannot hesitate +to admit that the head of the empire has been +justified in considering it as a subject worthy his +attention.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>We have adopted the gods of many nations,</q> said +Pontius Mamurra, <q>nor do I see why, because the Jews +have been unfortunate in a contest with Rome, we should +take it for granted that theirs are unworthy of respect. +If, however, as we have heard asserted, he who embraces +this creed becomes an infidel in regard to the deities of +Rome, I say Cæsar does well in refusing toleration to +the intolerant superstition. Domitian was a tyrant, +and a monster of humanity; the late prince was wise +and good; and yet it may be, that, in regard to these +Christians, the principle of Domitian’s conduct was +right in the main, and that of Nerva’s wrong. But you, +Capito, regard both sides of the question, I have no +doubt, with the same indifference.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="44"/><anchor id="Pg044"/> + +<p> +<q>I hope,</q> replied Capito, <q>I shall never regard with +indifference any question, in which the interest of the +empire and the honour of Trajan are concerned. But +if you mean only that I am indifferent about the nature +of this Syrian superstition, you are in the right. I have +no knowledge of its dogmas, nor desire to have. I presume +they have their share of that old eastern barbarity, +in the shady places of which the elder Greeks used to +think they could discover the outlines of something +really grand and majestic.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>It may be so,</q> said Mamurra; <q>but if the superstition +be found dangerous to the state, the Prince does +well in repressing its progress. That is the only question +of which I spake.</q>—<q>There is, indeed, no other,</q> +said Capito; <q>I thought of none.</q>—<q>And how do you +answer it, dear uncle?</q> said Athanasia, (lifting herself +up, for the first time, to take part in the conversation.)—<q>Nay, +my love,</q> said the old man, <q>to answer that +is the business of Cæsar, and of the Senate. I only +regret, that blood should be shed, and citizens exiled; +above all, in the reign of a just and merciful Prince.—Sempronia,</q> +continued he, <q>what is that strange story +your father was telling about one of the daughters of +Serennius?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>They only allege,</q> replied Sempronia, with a smile, +<q>that Tertulla had a flirtation with a handsome young +Greek, and the Greek happened to be a Christian,—and +she was converted by the Greek,—and she was +found out in going with him to some secret assembly +of these people, in a vault by the Vatican Hill,—and +her father has been glad to send her to Corsica, partly +to escape the lawyers, and partly, I suppose, in hopes +<pb n="45"/><anchor id="Pg045"/>that the quietness of the island, and the absence of +handsome young Christians, may perhaps, in time, +restore poor Tertulla to her right mind—This is all. +Do you think that a strange story, uncle?</q> <q>Not, if +it be exactly as you have told it, Sempronia. What +says Athanasia?</q> Athanasia answered gravely, that +she was sorry for Tertulla, and had never heard any +thing of the young Greek before. +</p> + +<p> +By this time, the increasing darkness of the chamber +had warned me that we ought to be thinking of our +return. I had more than once looked towards Sextus, but +he refused to meet my eye. When I was on the point of +speaking, Sempronia, starting from her couch, exclaimed, +that she was sure there was thunder in the skies; and +presently flash after flash gleamed along the horizon. All +sat silent, as if awe-struck; but Sempronia was the +only one that seemed to be in terror from the tempest. +Nevertheless, my eyes rested more on Athanasia, who +looked paler than she had done, although her countenance +preserved its serenity. <q>How awful,</q> said I, +<q>is the voice of Jupiter!</q> Athanasia folded her arms +upon her bosom, and lifting her eyes to heaven, said in +a whisper,—<q>How awful is the voice of God!</q> She +then dropt her hand on the end of her couch, and half +unconsciously taking hold of it in mine, I asked her if +she was afraid. <q>No,</q> said she, <q>I am not afraid, but +the heaviness of the air makes me faint, and I never +can listen to thunder without feeling something extraordinary +within me.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Capito said, he could not think of our going into the +city that evening, and that we must all make up our +minds to remain in the villa. The countenance of +<pb n="46"/><anchor id="Pg046"/>Sextus brightened up, and he looked to me as if to ask +my assent. I was easily persuaded, and our host despatched +a messenger to inform Licinius of the cause of +our absence. The old man then led us into another +apartment, which was richly furnished with books and +paintings. Here he read for some time out of one of +the poets, to a party, none of whom, I am afraid, were +very attentive in listening to him, till, the hour of rest +being come, we were conducted to our several apartments, +Sextus and myself, indeed, being lodged in the +same chamber. +</p> + +<p> +We were no sooner left alone than I began to rally +my friend on the beauty of his mistress, and the earnest +court he had been paying her. The youth listened with +blushes of delight to her praises, but seemed not to have +the least idea that he had been so fortunate as to make +any impression on her mind. On the contrary, he +scarcely appeared to be aware of having done any thing +to attract attention from her, and expressed astonishment +when I assured him, that his behaviour had been +such as could not possibly admit of more than one +explanation in the eyes of a person so quick and vivacious +as the lovely Sempronia. +</p> + +<p> +After we had both retired to our beds, and the lights +were extinguished, we still continued for some time to +talk over the incidents of our visit, and the future +prospects of Sextus and his love; until at length sleep +overpowered us in easy bonds, and agreeable dreams +followed, I doubt not, in the hearts of us both, the +thoughts and sights of a delightful day. Mine surely +were delightful, for they were all of Athanasia. Yet, +even in the visions of the night, I could never gaze +<pb n="47"/><anchor id="Pg047"/>on her face without some strange impression of mystery. +I saw her placid smile—I heard the sweet low cadence +of her voice—but I felt, and I could not feel it without +a certain indescribable anxiety, that her deep thoughts +were far away. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="6" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="48"/><anchor id="Pg048"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter VI"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter VI"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER VI.</hi></head> + +<p> +I awoke early, and drew near to the bed of Sextus; +but seeing that he was fast asleep, and that a quiet +smile was on his lips, I could not think of awakening +him. The sun shone bright into the apartment, and I +resolved to walk forth and breathe the balmy air of the +garden. +</p> + +<p> +The moisture was still heavy on the green paths, and +the birds were singing among glittering leaves; the +god-like statues stood unscathed in their silent beauty. +I walked to and fro, enjoying the enchantment of the +scene;—a new feeling of the beauty of all things +seemed to have been breathed into my soul; and the +pensive grace of Athanasia hovered over my imagination, +like some presiding genius of the groves. +</p> + +<p> +I found myself near the favourite grotto, and had +stood over against its entrance for some space, contemplating +the augmented stream as it fell from the superincumbent +rock, and regretting the ravage which the +nightly tempest had made among the delicate flowers +round its basin. Twice I thought I heard the murmurs +of a voice, and twice I persuaded myself that it was +only the rippling of the waters; but the third time I +was satisfied that some person must be near. I passed +<pb n="49"/><anchor id="Pg049"/>between the water and the rock, and beheld the fair +creature that had been occupying so many of my +thoughts, kneeling far within the grotto, as it seemed, +in supplication. To disturb her by advancing farther, +would have been impious; to retire, without the risk +of disturbing her, almost impossible; but I remained +there fixed to the spot, without perhaps considering all +these things as I should have done. The virgin modesty +of her attitude was holy in my eyes, and the thought +never occurred to me, that I might be doing wrong in +permitting myself to witness the simple devotions of +Athanasia. <q>Great God, listen to my prayers,</q> was +all I understood of what she said; but she whispered +for some moments in a lowly and fervent tone, and I +saw that she kissed something with her lips ere she arose +from her knees. She then plunged her hands into the +well, by whose brink she had knelt, and turned round +to the light. <q>Athanasia, forgive me,</q> was already on +my lips; but on seeing me, she uttered a faint cry and +fell prostrate upon the marble. I rushed forward, lifted +up her head, and laved water from the fountain, till I +saw her lips tremble. At last she opened her eyes, and +after gazing on me wildly for a moment, she gathered +her strength, and stood quite upright, supporting herself +against the wall of the grotto. <q>Great heavens!</q> cried +I, <q>in what have I offended, that I should be rendered +the cause of affliction to Athanasia? Speak, lady, and +say that you forgive me.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I thought,</q> said she, with a proud calmness, <q>that +Valerius was of Roman—of Patrician blood. What +brings him to be a spy upon the secret moments of a +Patrician maiden?</q>—Then bursting into a tone of +<pb n="50"/><anchor id="Pg050"/>unutterable fervour, <q>Speak,</q> said she, <q>young man, +what have you heard? How long have you stood here? +Am I betrayed?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Witness, heaven and earth!</q> cried I, kneeling, +<q>and witness every god, that I have heard nothing, +except to know that you were praying. I have only +seen you kneeling, and been guilty of gazing on your +beauty.</q> <q>You heard not the words of my prayer?</q> +said she. <q>No, not its words, Athanasia, nor any +thing of its purpose.</q> <q>Do you swear this to me, +young man?</q> <q>Yes, I swear by Jupiter and by Rome—as +I am a man and a Roman, I know not, neither +do I desire to know, any thing of what you said. Forgive +me for the fault of my indiscretion—you have no +other to forgive.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Athanasia paused for a moment, and then resuming +more of her usual tone of voice, (although its accents +were still somewhat disturbed and faltering,) said to +me, <q>Valerius, since the thing is so, I have nothing to +forgive. It is you that must pardon me for my suspicion.</q> +<q>Distress me not, Athanasia,</q> said I, <q>by +speaking such words.</q> <q>From this hour, then,</q> said +she, <q>what has passed here is forgotten. We blot it +from our memories;</q>—and with that, as if in token +of the paction, she extended to me her hand. I kissed +it as I knelt, and swore that all things were safe with +me; but added, as I arose, <q>that I was afraid I should +be promising more than I should be able to perform,—did +I say I should be able to forget any hour, or any +place, where I had seen Athanasia.</q> <q>Nay,</q> said she, +<q>no compliment, or I shall begin to suspect you of +insincerity.</q> I was then about to withdraw from the +<pb n="51"/><anchor id="Pg051"/>grotto; but seeing a scroll of parchment lying at the +feet of Athanasia, I stooped, and presented it to her, +saying, <q>I was afraid she might forget it.</q> She took +it eagerly, and saying, <q>Of that there was no danger,</q> +placed it in her bosom, within the folds of her tunic. +She was then gathering up her black tresses, and fastening +them hastily on the back part of her head, when +we heard the sound of footsteps not far off, and beckoning +to me to remain where I was, she darted from me, and +in a moment vanished among the trees. I waited for +a few minutes, and then stepping forth, beheld her +walking at a distance, beside her sister, in the direction +of the villa. They were soon lost among the paths, +and I returned alone into the grotto. +</p> + +<p> +I sat down beside the dark well, wherein she had +dipt her hands, and mused in a most disturbed mood +on all the particulars of this strange and unexpected +interview. Every motion of her features—every modulation +of her voice, was present with me; I had +gathered them all into my heart, and I felt that I must +cherish them there for ever. From the first moment I +saw her, my eyes had been constrained to gaze upon +her with an interest quite novel to me; but now I +knew that she could not smile, without making my +heart faint within me, and that the least whisper of +her voice was able to bring tears into mine eyes. Now +I thought of my own unworthiness, and could not help +saying to myself, <q>Why should a poor ignorant provincial, +such as I am, be torturing myself with the +thoughts of such a creature as this?</q> Then, again, +some benign glance of hers would return before me, +and I could not help having some faint hopes, that her +<pb n="52"/><anchor id="Pg052"/>innocent heart might be won to me by faithful unwearied +love. But what always threw me back into +despair, was the recollection of the mystery that I knew +hung over her mind, although what it was I could not +know. That she had been saying something in her +prayers which could not be overheard without betraying +her, she had herself confessed. What could be this +secret, so cherished in dread, and in darkness?—A +crime?—No crime could sully the clear bosom of her +innocence. No consciousness of guilt could be concealed +beneath that heavenly visage. But perhaps she had +been made the confidante of some erring,—some unhappy +friend. Perhaps, in her prayer, she had made +mention of another’s name, and implored the pardon +of another’s guilt. Last of all, why might it not be so, +that the maiden loved, and was beloved again; that +she might have some reason to regard any casual betrayal +of her affection as a calamity; and that, having +uttered the name of her lover in her secret supplications, +her terrors might all have been occasioned by her +apprehensions of my having overheard it? And yet +there was something in the demeanour of Athanasia, +that I could not bring myself to reconcile entirely with +any one of these suppositions. Had she feared that I had +overheard any confession of guilt,—even of the guilt +of another,—surely some semblance of shame would +have been mingled with her looks of terror. Had she +apprehended only the discovery of an innocent love, +surely her blushes would have been deeper, and her +boldness less. Yet the last solution of the difficulty +was that which haunted me the most powerfully. +</p> + +<p> +When I came forth into the open air, I perceived +<pb n="53"/><anchor id="Pg053"/>that the sun was already high in heaven, and proceeded +in haste towards the villa, not doubting that Sextus +and Capito would be astonished by the length of my +absence. I found them and the ladies walking under +the northern colonnade, having returned, as they told +me, from a fruitless search after me through almost +the whole of the garden. I looked to Athanasia, as +if to signify that she well knew where I might have +been found; but, although I saw that she understood +my meaning, she said nothing in explanation. Sextus +drew me aside shortly after, and told me, that his +father had sent to inform him, that our presence was +necessary in the city before supper-time, to attend +a great entertainment which was to be given that +evening by the lady whose cause he had successfully +pleaded in the Forum on the preceding day; which +lady, I now for the first time learned, was no other +than the same Marcia Rubellia, to whom his father was +very anxious the youth should be married. The success +of this pleading had increased very much the wealth +of the lady, and, of course, as Sextus well knew, the +anxiety of Licinius for the proposed union; and to +remain at the villa any longer, was, he said, entirely +impossible, since he already suspected his father had +not been quite pleased with him for leaving the Forum +the day before, without staying to hear out a cause in +which his duty, if not his inclination, ought to have +made him feel so greatly interested. +</p> + +<p> +We bade adieu, therefore, to our kind host and the +young ladies, not without more reluctance than either +of us durst express, and ready promises to return soon +again to the villa. We found Dromo and Boto waiting +<pb n="54"/><anchor id="Pg054"/>for us at the gate, the former of whom looked unutterable +things, while the latter appeared to be as +joyful in seeing me again, as if we had been parted +for a twelvemonth. The two slaves were mounted on +asses, but they led horses for our conveyance; so we +mounted with all speed, and were soon beyond the +beautiful enclosures of Capito. As soon as we were +fairly out of sight of the house, Dromo began to ply +Sextus with innumerable questions about the result of +the visit, all of them in bad Greek; that, as he said, +there might be no chance of what passed being understood +by the Druid; for by that venerable designation, +he informed us, the primitive Boto had already come to +be best known in the vestibule of Licinius. <q>Ah!</q> +quoth he, <q>there is no need for many words; I am +sure my young master has not been behindhand with +himself. If he has, it is no fault of mine, however. I +put Opportunity into his hands, and she, you know, as +the poets say, has only one lock of hair, and that is in +front.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Sextus being very shy of entering into particulars, I +found myself obliged to take upon me the satisfying of +the curiosity of this inquisitive varlet, which I did in a +manner that much astonished Sextus, who by no means +suspected, that in the midst of my own attention to the +other cousin, I had been able to take so much notice of +what passed between him and Sempronia. However, +the gentle youth took a little raillery all in good part, +and we laughed loudly in unison at the triumphant +capers which the whip of Dromo made his poor ass +exhibit, in testimony of his satisfaction with the progress +which all things appeared to be making. We +<pb n="55"/><anchor id="Pg055"/>reached the city about three hours after noon, and were +told by the slaves in attendance, that Xerophrastes +had gone out some time before, and that Licinius +was already busy in arraying himself for the feast of +Rubellia. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="7" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="56"/><anchor id="Pg056"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter VII"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter VII"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER VII.</hi></head> + +<p> +Her mansion was situated about the middle of the +Suburra, in a neighbourhood nowise splendid, and itself +distinguished, on the side fronting to the street, by no +uncommon marks of elegance or opulence. A plain +brick wall covered almost the whole of the building from +the eye of the passenger; and what was seen deserved +the praise of neatness, rather than of magnificence. +Nevertheless, the moment one had passed the gate, and +entered the court, one could not help perceiving, that +taste and wealth had been alike expended abundantly +on the residence; for the broad terrace and gallery +behind were lavishly adorned, the one with sculpture +and the other with paintings; and the gardens, which +these overlooked, appeared to be both extensive and +elaborate. +</p> + +<p> +We were conducted through several pillared halls, +and then up a wide staircase, of somewhat sombre +magnificence, into the chamber where the company +were already in part assembled, and busy in offering +their congratulations to the mistress of the feast. She +was so much engaged with their flatteries that she did +not at first perceive our entrance; but as soon as she +knew who had come, the chief part of her attention +<pb n="57"/><anchor id="Pg057"/>was divided between her victorious advocate and his +blushing son. +</p> + +<p> +Rapidly as we have been advancing in our imitation +of the manners of the capital, our island, most unquestionably, +has never yet displayed any thing that could +sustain the smallest comparison with what then met +my eyes in the stately saloon of this widow. The +group around her was gay and various, and she was +worthy of forming its centre; young and handsome, +dressed in a style of the utmost splendour, her deportment +equally elegant and vivacious. Her complexion +was of that clear rich brown which lends to the eye a +greater brilliancy than the most exquisite contrast of +red and white; and over which the blood, when it does +come into the face, diffuses at once the warmest and the +deepest of blushes. Her hair appeared to be perfectly +black, unless where the light, streaming from behind, +gave an edging of glossy brown to the thick masses +of her curls. Her robe of crimson silk was fastened by +a girdle, which seemed to consist of nothing but rubies +and emeralds, strung upon threads of gold. She wore +a tiara that rose high above her tresses, and was all +over resplendent with flowers woven in jewellery; +and around her delicate wrists and ankles were twined +broad chains of virgin gold, interspersed with alternate +wreaths of sapphire. Her form was the perfection of +luxury; and although I have said that her deportment +was in general lively and brilliant, yet there was a soft +seriousness that every now and then settled in her eyes, +which gave her, for a moment, a look of melancholy +that seemed to me more likely to be in harmony with +the secret nature of her disposition. I watched her in +<pb n="58"/><anchor id="Pg058"/>particular when she spoke to Sextus; her full rich-toned +voice was then merry, and her large eyes sparkled; but +when she was engaged with any other person, she could +not help gazing on the beautiful youth in silence; and +then it was that her countenance wore its deepest expression +of calmness—I had almost said, of sadness. +</p> + +<p> +I had been gazing on her, I know not how long, +from another part of the room, when I heard a hearty +chuckle from behind me, and thought I could not be +unacquainted with the voice. Looking round, I saw, +not without delight, the stately figure of my Prætorian +Captain, Sabinus, whose cheerful eye soon distinguished +me, and who forthwith came up to salute me in the +most friendly manner. I introduced him to Licinius +and Sextus, the former of whom expressed himself as +being much gratified with the attention the centurion +had shewn to me during our voyage; so that I felt +myself, as it were, no longer a stranger in the place; +and the lutes and trumpets at that moment announcing +that supper was ready to be served up, I took care to +keep close to Sabinus, and to place myself near him on +the couch. +</p> + +<p> +The room in which the feast was prepared, communicated +by a pair of brazen folding doors, richly +sculptured, with that in which the company had assembled; +but from it, although the sun had not yet gone +down, all light was excluded, excepting what streamed +from golden candelabra, and broad lamps of bronze +suspended overhead from the high and painted ceiling. +The party might consist of about twenty, who reclined +along one demi-circular couch, the covers of which were +of the softest down, and the frame-work inlaid with +<pb n="59"/><anchor id="Pg059"/>ivory;—the part of the room enclosed by its outline +being occupied with the table, and an open space to +which the attendants had free access. We had no +sooner taken our seats than a crowd of slaves entered, +carrying large boards upon their heads, which being +forthwith arranged on the table, were seen to be loaded +with dishes of gold and silver, and all manner of drinking +vessels, also with vases of rare flowers, and urns of +perfume. But how did the countenance of Sabinus +brighten, when the trumpet sounded a second time as +if from below, and the floor of the chamber was suddenly, +as it were, pierced in twain, and the pealing +music ushered up a huge roasted boar, all wreathed +with stately garnishings, and standing erect on his +golden platform as on a chariot of triumph! <q>Ah! +my dear boy,</q> cries he, <q>here comes the true king of +beasts, and only legitimate monarch of the woods. +What should we not have given for a slice of him when +we were pent up, half-starved and fainting, in that +abominable ship of ours?—All hail, most potent conqueror! +but whether Germanic or Asiatic be thy proper +title, I shall soon know, when that expert Ionian has +daintily carved and divided thee.</q> But why should +I attempt to describe to you the particulars of the +feast? Let it suffice, that whatever idea I had formed of +Roman profusion was surpassed, and that the splendour +of the entertainment engaged the attention of all except +Rubellia herself, who, reclining immediately above +Sextus, kept her eyes fixed almost all the time it lasted, +upon his luxuriant curls of dark hair, unless when she +caused the young damsel, her cup-bearer, to pour out +to her wine in a goblet of onyx, which she touched +<pb n="60"/><anchor id="Pg060"/>with her lips, and then handed to the indifferent boy. +When the supper was half over, the folding-doors were +again thrown open, and there entered a group of maidens +and beautiful youths, who danced before us to the music +of the lute, and scattered crowns of roses at the feet of +Rubellia and her guests. She herself placed one of +them on the head of Sextus, and another on that of his +father, who lay on the other side of her, and then caused +a large cup of wine to be carried all around, whereof +each of us tasted, and drank to the health of the orator, +in whose honour the entertainment was made. The +ladies that were present imitated the example of the +hostess, and crowned such as were by them; but Sabinus +and I, not being near enough to any of them, received +that courtesy from some of the dancing maidens. +Libations were poured out abundantly on the marble +floor, and all the gods were invoked to shower down +their blessings on Rubellia, and those that had been so +fortunate as to serve her. Sweet strains of music resounded +through the tall pillars of the banqueting-room, +and the lamps burned heavily in an atmosphere +overloaded with perfumes. +</p> + +<p> +It appeared to me, from the beginning, that my +friend Sabinus witnessed, not without some feelings +of displeasure, the excessive attentions which Rubellia +lavished on young Sextus; and I gathered, from the +way in which he every now and then looked towards +them during the supper, that, had the place permitted, +he would not have allowed such things to go on without +some comment. But when we had left the banqueting-room, +and removed to another apartment, where, amidst +various entertainments of dancing, music, and +recita<pb n="61"/><anchor id="Pg061"/>tion, Rubellia still retained close to herself the heir +of Licinius, the centurion made to himself abundant +amends for the previous restraint to which his temper +had been subjected. <q>Confess now,</q> said he, <q>that +she is a lovely creature, and that your British beauties +are tame and insipid, when compared with such a specimen +of Roman fascination; and confess, withal, that +this curled boy is either the most ignorant, or the most +insusceptible of his sex. Good heavens! in what a +different style was she treated by the old magistrate, +whose very bust there, in the corner, looks quite blank +and disconsolate with its great white eyes, while she, +that sate for so many months pale and weeping by his +bed-side, is thinking of nothing but to bestow all the +wealth he left her on a beardless stripling, who appears +to regard the bust and the beauty with almost equal +indifference.—Alas! poor old withered Leberinus, little +did you imagine that so small a phial would suffice to +hold all her tears. My only wonder is, that she still +permits your marble image to occupy even a corner of +her mansion; but, no doubt, you will soon be sent on +your travels. I dare say, some cold pedestal in the +garden will, ere long, be the best birth you need look +for.—Well, well, you see what fools we may be made +by the cunning of these pretty crocodiles. I trust my +dotage, when it does come, will not shew itself in the +same shape with that of my good old friend. I hope +the ghost of the worthy Prætor will not frown unseen +the night she takes this Adonis to her arms. If I +were in his place, I should give her curtains a pretty +shake. By Hermes! it would not be a pretty monument +and a flowery epitaph that would make me lie still.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="62"/><anchor id="Pg062"/> + +<p> +<q>How long is it,</q> said I, <q>since this venerable +magistrate died? Surely she has allowed him the +decency of a tenmonth’s grief, before she began to +give suppers, and perceive the beauty of Sextus?</q> +<q>Whether it be a tenmonth ago or not,</q> replied +the Centurion, <q>is more than I can take upon me to +decide; all I know is, that it appears to me as if it were +but yesterday that I supped here, (it was just before I +set off for Britain,) and saw the young lady reclining, +even at table, with those long black curls of her’s, in the +bosom of the emaciated Leberinus. By Jupiter! the +old man would not taste a drop of wine unless she +kissed the cup—she coaxed every morsel he swallowed +down his throat, and clasped the garland round his bald +pate with her own fingers; ay, twice before that sleek +physician—that solemn-faced Greek, whom you see at +this moment talking with your kinsman, advised her +to have him carried to his bed. For all the gravity of +his looks, I would lay a trifle, that worthy Bœotian has +his own thoughts about what is passing, as well as I. +But the worst-pleased face in the whole room is, I think, +that of old Rubellius himself yonder, who has just come +in, without, it is evident, being aware that any feast +was going forward. Without question, the crafty usurer +is of opinion he might have been invited. I promise +you, I can interpret the glances of that gray-headed +extortioner; and well I may, for it is not the first +time I have had an opportunity of studying them. +Ay, ay, quoth he to himself, she may do as she will +with the bonds of Leberinus; but she might have remembered, +that a codicil can be easily tacked to the +end of a living man’s testament.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="63"/><anchor id="Pg063"/> + +<p> +<q>But, after all,</q> said I, <q>one must admit, that if +she married old Leberinus to please her father, the +widow has some right to choose her second husband +according to the pattern of her own fancy.</q> <q>Oh! by +all means,</q> answered he; <q>let her please herself; let +her make a fool of herself now, if she will. She may +perhaps learn, some time or other, that it is as possible +to have too young a husband, as to have too old a one.</q> +<q>Come now,</q> said I, <q>Sabinus, confess that if she had +selected some well-made, middle-aged man—some respectable +man—some man of note and distinction, you +would have judged less harshly of poor Rubellia.</q> +<q>Ah! you cunning dog,</q> said he; <q>who would have +thought that you had brought so much wickedness from +that new world of yours? But do you really think she +will wed Sextus? The boy appears strangely cold. I +should not wonder, when all is done, if the match were +more of the orator’s seeking than his own.</q> <q>I can +only tell you,</q> said I, <q>that I have never heard Licinius +mention any thing about it; and, I dare say, +Sextus would be very sorry to think of losing his +liberty for the sake of the wealth of Leberinus—ay, +or for that of old Rubellius to boot.</q> <q>Young friend,</q> +quoth he, <q>you are not quite acquainted with the way +in which these matters are managed at Rome. If we +had you six weeks at the other side of the Viminal, we +should teach you better.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I know not how long this sort of talk might have +lasted; but Licinius put an end to it by joining us, and +soon engaged the worthy Centurion, and several more +of us, with some lively, but unintelligible discussion on +the merits of some new edict, of which none of us had +<pb n="64"/><anchor id="Pg064"/>ever heard, or were likely ever to hear any thing again. +We were glad to escape from the lawyer into another +room, where some Greek slaves were performing a sort +of comic pantomime, that appeared to give more delight +to old Rubellius than any other of the spectators. As +for Sextus, I saw plainly that he was quite weary of +the entertainment, and anxious to get away; but we +were obliged to remain till after Licinius was gone, for +it was evident that he wished his son to see out the last. +But no sooner had we heard his chariot drive off, than +the young man and I took leave of the lady, and withdrew. +Sabinus lingered a moment behind us, and then +joined us in the vestibule, from which, his course lying +so far in the same direction as ours, we all proceeded +homewards on foot. +</p> + +<p> +We had proceeded along the street of the Suburra for +a considerable space, and were already beneath the shade +of the great Temple of Isis and Serapis, (which stands +on the northern side of the Esquiline Hill, nigh over +against the Amphitheatre of Vespasian,) when, from +the opposite side of the way, we were hailed by a small +party of soldiers, who, as it turned out, had been sent +from the Prætorian camp in search of Sabinus, and one +of whom had now recognized his gait and stature, notwithstanding +the obscurity of the hour. The Centurion +went aside with the leader of these men for some moments, +and then informed us that it was very fortunate +they had so easily recognized him, as the business on +which they had been sent was such as did not admit of +being negligently dealt with. <q>To-morrow,</q> said he, +pointing to the Amphitheatre before us, <q>that glorious +edifice is to be the scene of one of the grandest shows +<pb n="65"/><anchor id="Pg065"/>exhibited by Trajan since his accession to the empire. +It is the anniversary of the day on which he was adopted +by Nerva, and the splendour of the spectacle will be in +proportion to the gratitude and veneration with which +he at all times regards the memory of that excellent +benefactor. But there are some parts of the exhibition +that I am afraid old Nerva, could he be present to behold +them, would not regard with the same feelings as +his successor.</q> <q>Surely,</q> said I, <q>the beneficent Trajan +will not stain the expression of his gratitude by any thing +unworthy of himself, or that could give displeasure to +Nerva?</q> <q>Nay,</q> replied the Centurion, <q>it is not for +me to talk about any thing that Trajan chooses to do +being unworthy of Trajan; but you well know that +Nerva would never suffer any of the Christians to be +molested during his reign, and now here are some of +these unhappy fanatics, that are to be compelled either +to renounce their faith in the face of the assembly to-morrow, +or to die in the arena. It is to inspect the +condition of these unfortunates, who, I know not for +what reason, are confined in a dungeon below the ramparts +in the vicinity of our camp, and to announce to +them the final determination of their fate, that I, as +Centurion of the night, have now been summoned. If +you are curious to see the men, you are at liberty to +go with me, and I shall be obliged to you for your +company.</q> +</p> + +<p> +My curiosity having been excited in regard to the new +faith and its adherents, I was very desirous to accept of +this offer. Nor did Sextus any sooner perceive that such +was my inclination, than he advised me to gratify it, +undertaking, at the same time, to satisfy his father, in +<pb n="66"/><anchor id="Pg066"/>case of any inquiry, that I was in a place of safety, and +under the protection of Sabinus. With him, therefore, +and with his Prætorians, I proceeded along various streets +which led us by the skirts of the Esquiline and Viminal +Hills, on to the region of the Mounds of Tarquin, over +against which, as you have heard, the great camp of +those bands is situated;—if indeed that ought of right +to be called by the name of a camp, which is itself a +city of no slender dimensions, and built with great +splendour of architecture, spread out beyond the limits +of Rome, for the accommodation of that proud soldiery. +There my friend took me into his chamber, and furnished +me with a cloak and helmet, that I might excite +no suspicion by accompanying him on his errand. The +watch-word of the night also was given me, <hi rend="italic">Silent faith</hi>; +and proceeding again, we shortly reached the place +where the Christians were lying. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="8" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="67"/><anchor id="Pg067"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter VIII"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter VIII"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER VIII.</hi></head> + +<p> +Entering the guard-room, we found it crowded with +spearmen of Sabinus’s band, some playing at dice, others +carousing jovially, many wrapt up in their mantles, +and asleep upon the floor; while a few only were sitting +beneath the porch, with their spears in their hands, and +leaning upon their bucklers. From one of these, the +Centurion, having drawn him aside, made inquiry +concerning the names and condition of the prisoners, +and whether as yet they had received any intelligence +as to the morrow. The soldier, who was a grave +man, well stricken in years, made answer, <q>that the +men were free-born and of decent estate, and that he +had not heard of any thing else being laid to their +charge, excepting that which concerned their religion. +Since they have been here,</q> he continued, <q>I have +been several times set on watch over them, and twice +have I lain with one of them in his dungeon; yet have +I heard no complaints from any of them, for in all +things they are patient. One of them only is to suffer +to-morrow—but for him I am especially concerned, for +he was known to me of old, having served often with +me when I was a horseman in the army of Titus, all +through the war of Palestine, and at the siege of Jerusalem.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="68"/><anchor id="Pg068"/> + +<p> +<q>And of what country is he?</q> said Sabinus. <q>Is +he also a Roman?</q> <q>No, sir,</q> answered the spearman, +<q>he is no Roman; but he was of a troop of the allies +that was joined often to our legion, and I have seen +him bear himself on the day of battle as well as any +Roman. He is by birth a Greek of the Syrian coast; +but his mother was of the nation of the Jews.</q> <q>And +yet, although the son of a Jewess, he was with us, say +you, at the siege of Jerusalem?</q> <q>Even so,</q> replied the +man; <q>and not he only, but many others; for the +Jews were divided against themselves; and of all them +that were Christians, not one abode in the city, or gave +help to defend it. As this man himself said, the oracles +of the Christians, and their prophets, had of old given +warning that the city must fall into the hands of Cæsar, +by reason of the wickedness of that people; therefore, +when we set our camp against Jerusalem, these all +passed out from the city, with their wives and children, +and dwelt safely in the mountainous country until the +fate was fulfilled. But some of their young men fought +in our camp, and did good service, because the place +was known to them, and they had acquaintance with +all the secrets of the Rock. Of these, this man was one. +He and all his household had departed from the ancient +religion of the Jews, and were believers in the doctrines +of the Christians, for which cause he is now to suffer; +and of that, although I have not spoken to him this +evening, I think he has already received some intelligence, +for certain of his friends passed in to him, and +they covered their faces as they went in, as if weeping.</q> +<q>Are these friends still with him?</q> said Sabinus. +<q>Yes,</q> answered he, <q>for I must have seen them had +<pb n="69"/><anchor id="Pg069"/>they come forth again. Without doubt, the two women +are still with him in his dungeon.</q> <q>Women?</q> quoth +Sabinus; <q>and of what condition think you they may +be?</q> <q>That I know not,</q> replied the soldier; <q>for, +as I have said, they were muffled in their mantles. But +one of them, at least, is a Roman, for I heard her speak +to him that is by the door of the dungeon.</q> <q>How +long is it,</q> said the Centurion, <q>since they went in to +the prisoner?</q> <q>More than an hour,</q> replied the +soldier, looking at the water-clock that stood beneath +the porch; <q>and if they be Christians, they are not +yet about to depart, for they never separate without +singing together, which is said to be their favourite +manner of worship.</q> +</p> + +<p> +He had scarcely uttered these words, when the soldiers +that were carousing within the guard-room became +silent, and we heard the voices of those that were in the +dungeon singing together in a sweet and lowly manner. +<q>Ah, sir!</q> said the old soldier, <q>I thought it would +be even so—there is not a spearman in the band that +would not willingly watch here a whole night, could he +be sure of hearing that melody. Well do I know that +soft voice—Hear now, how she sings by herself—and +there again, that deep strong note—that is the voice of +the prisoner.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Hush!</q> quoth the Centurion, <q>heard you ever any +thing half so divine? Are these words Greek or Syrian?</q> +<q>What the words are I know not,</q> said the soldier; +<q>but I know the tune well.—I have heard it played many +a night with hautboy, clarion, and dulcimer, on the +high walls of Jerusalem, while the city was beleaguered.</q> +<q>It is some old Jewish tune then,</q> said Sabinus; <q>I +knew not those barbarians had had half so much art.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="70"/><anchor id="Pg070"/> + +<p> +<q>Why, as for that, sir,</q> replied the man, <q>I have been +all over Greece and Egypt—to say nothing of Italy—and +I never heard any music like that music of the +Jews. When they came down to join the battle, +their trumpets sounded so gloriously, that we wondered +how it was possible for them ever to be driven back; +and then, when their gates were closed, and they sent +out to beg their dead, they would play such solemn +awful notes of lamentation, that the plunderers stood +still to listen, and their warriors were delivered to them +with all their mail as they had fallen.</q> <q>And the +Christians also,</q> said Sabinus, <q>had the same tunes?</q> +<q>Oh yes, sir—why, for that matter, these very tunes +may have been among them, for aught we know, since +the beginning of their nation. I have stood sentinel +with this very man, and seen the tears run down his +cheeks by the star-light, when he heard the music from +the city, as the Jewish captains were going their rounds +upon the battlements.</q> <q>But this, surely,</q> said the +Centurion, <q>is no warlike melody.</q> <q>I know not,</q> +quoth the old soldier, <q>whether it be or not—but I am +sure it sounds not like any music of sorrow,—and yet +what plaintive tones are in the part of that female +voice!</q> <q>The bass sounds triumphantly, in good +sooth.</q> <q>Ay, sir, but that is the old man’s own voice—I +am sure he will keep a good heart to the end, even +though they should be singing their farewell to him. +Well, the Emperor loses a good soldier, the hour Tisias +dies. I wish to Jupiter he had not been a Christian, +or had kept his religion to himself. But as for changing +now—you might as well think of persuading the +Prince himself to be a Jew.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>That last high strain, however,</q> quoth Sabinus, +<pb n="71"/><anchor id="Pg071"/><q>has ended their singing. Let us speak to the women +as they come out; and if it be so that the man is already +aware of what is to be done to-morrow, I see not why +we should trouble him with entering his cell. He has +but a few hours to live, and I would not willingly disturb +him.</q> <q>I hear them coming,</q> said the soldier. +<q>Then do you meet them,</q> said Sabinus, <q>and tell +them that the Centurion wishes to speak to them ere +they go away—we will retire out of hearing of the +guard.</q> +</p> + +<p> +With that he and I withdrew to the other side of the +way, over against the door of the prison; and we stood +there waiting for the women under a fig-tree, close by +the city wall. In a few minutes two persons, arrayed +as the soldier had described, drew near to us; and one +of them, without uncovering her countenance, said,—<q>Master, +we trust we have done no evil in visiting the +prisoners; had it been so, surely we should not have +been permitted to enter without question.</q> +</p> + +<p> +These words were spoken in a voice tremulous, as if +with grief rather than with terror; but I could not +help starting when I heard them. However, I commanded +myself, and heard in silence what Sabinus +replied.—<q>Be not alarmed,</q> said he; <q>there is no +offence committed, for no orders have been issued +to prevent these men from seeing their friends. I sent +for you, not to find fault with what you have done, but +only to ask whether this prisoner has already been told +that the Emperor has announced his resolution concerning +him, and that he must die to-morrow, in the +Amphitheatre of Vespasian, unless he renounce his +superstition.</q>—<q>He knows all,</q> answered the same +voice; <q>and is prepared for all.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="72"/><anchor id="Pg072"/> + +<p> +<q>By heavens! Valerius,</q> whispered Sabinus; <q>it is +no mean person that speaks so—this is the accent and +the gesture of a Roman lady.</q> Then raising his voice, +<q>In that case there is no need for my going into the +dungeon; and yet, could I hope to say any thing that +might tend to make him change his purpose, I would +most gladly do so. The Emperor is as humane as he is +just, and unless when rebellious obstinacy shuts the +gates of mercy, he is the last that would consent to the +shedding of any blood.—For this Tisias, of whose history +I have just been hearing something, I am in a +particular manner interested, and to save him, I wish +only I had power equal to my inclination. Is there no +chance of convincing <anchor id="corr072a"/><corr sic="him">him?</corr></q>—<q>He is already convinced.</q>—<q>Could +his friends do nothing?</q>—<q><anchor id="corr072b"/><corr sic="quote mark missing">His</corr> friends +have been with him,</q> said the voice.—This last sentence +was spoken so distinctly, that I knew I could no +longer be mistaken; and I was on the brink of speaking +out, without thinking of the consequences that might +occur, when she that had spoken, uttered a faint cry, +and dropping on her knees before Sabinus, said,—<q>Oh, +sir! to us also be merciful, and let us go hence ere any +one behold us!</q>—<q>Go in peace, lady,</q> answered the +Centurion, <q>and henceforth be prudent as well as +kind;</q> and they went away from us, and were soon +lost to our sight in the windings of the street. +</p> + +<p> +We stood there for some moments in silence, looking +towards the place where they disappeared. <q>Strange +superstition,</q> said Sabinus; <q>what heroism dwells with +this madness!—you see how little these men regard their +lives;—nay, even women, and Roman women too—you +see how their nature is changed by it.</q>—<q>It is, indeed, a +most strange spectacle,</q> said I; <q>but what is to be the +<pb n="73"/><anchor id="Pg073"/>end of it, if this spirit become diffused widely among the +people?</q>—<q>In truth I know not,</q> answered the Centurion; +<q>as yet we have heard of few who had once +embraced this faith, renouncing it out of fear for their +lives.</q>—<q>And in the days of Nero and Domitian,</q> +said I, <q>were not many hundreds of them punished +even here in the capital?</q>—<q>You are within the mark,</q> +said he; <q>and not a few of those who were sent into +exile, because of their Christianity, were, as you may +have heard, of no ordinary condition. Among these +there were Flavius Clemens, the Consular, and his wife, +Domitilla; both of whom I have often seen in my youth—both +relations to the family of Vespasian—whom, +notwithstanding, all the splendour of the imperial blood +could not save from the common fate of their sect. But +Nerva suffered all of them to live in peace, and recalled +such as were in exile, excepting only Domitilla, whose +fate has been regretted by all men; but I suppose it +was not at first judged safe to recal her, lest any tumult +should have been excited in her name, by those that +regretted (and I am sorry to say these were not a few) +the wicked license of which they had been deprived by +the death of her tyrannical kinsman, and the transition +of the imperial dignity into another line. She also with +whom we have been speaking, is, I am sure, a Roman +lady of condition; and you may judge of her zeal, +when you see it brings her hither at midnight, to mingle +tears and prayers with those of an obscure Asiatic. Did +you observe, that the other female both walked and +stood behind her.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I observed all this,</q> answered I. But little did +Sabinus suspect that I had observed so much more than +<pb n="74"/><anchor id="Pg074"/>himself had done. Before parting from him, I said I +should still be gratified with being permitted to see the +prisoner; and although he declined entering himself, +he accordingly gave command that the door of his +dungeon should be opened for me, requesting me, at the +same time, to refrain from saying any thing more than +was necessary for the explaining the apparent purpose +of my visit,—the communication, namely, of Trajan’s +decree. +</p> + +<p> +The Centurion withdrew to his camp; and the same +old spearman with whom we had conversed at the +Porch, carried a torch in his hand, and shewed me the +way into the dungeon. +</p> + +<p> +Between the first door and the second, which appeared +to be almost entirely formed of iron, there intervened a +few broad steps of mason-work; and upon the lowest +of these, I stood waiting till he should open the inner +door. Several keys were applied before he discovered +the right one; but at last the heavy door swung away +from before him so speedily, that the air, rushing out of +the vault, extinguished the torch; insomuch, that we +had no light excepting that which streamed from an +aperture high up in the wall of the dungeon itself; a +feeble ray of star-light alone—for the moon had, long +ere this time, been gone down—which, nevertheless, +sufficed to shew us to the prisoner, although we at first +could see nothing of him. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Soldiers,</q> said the old man, in a voice of perfect +calmness, <q>for what reason are you come?</q>—<q>We +come,</q> said my companion, <q>by command of the Centurion, +to inform you of things which we would willingly +not have to tell—To-morrow Trajan opens the +<pb n="75"/><anchor id="Pg075"/>Amphitheatre of Vespasian.</q>—<q>My comrade,</q> said the +prisoner, <q>is it your voice I hear? I knew all this +already; and you know of old that I fear not the face +of death.</q>—<q>I know well, Tisias, you fear not death; +yet why, when there is no need, should you cast away +life? Think well, I beseech you, and reserve yourself +for a better day.</q>—<q>The dawn of that better day, +Romans, already begins to open upon my eyes. I see +the east red with the promise of its brightness. Would +you have me tarry in darkness, when I am invited +to walk forth into the light?</q>—<q>Your words rejoice +me,</q> answered the spearman; <q>and I am sure all will +rejoice in hearing that you have at length come to think +thus—Trajan himself will rejoice. You have but to +say the word, and you are free,</q>—<q>You mean kindly,</q> +said the old man, rising from his pallet, and walking +towards us as far as his fetters permitted; <q>but you +are much mistaken—I have but to keep silence, and I +am free.</q>—<q>Alas! what mean you? Do you know +what you say? You must worship the gods in the +morning, else you die.</q>—<q>Evening, and morning, and +for ever, I must worship the God that made heaven and +earth. If I bow down to the idols of Trajan, I buy the +life of a day at the price of death everlasting. Tempt +me not in your kindness: I fell once. Great God, +preserve me from falling! I have bade farewell to my +friends already. Leave me to spend these few hours by +myself.—Leave me to prepare the flesh for that from +which the spirit shrinks not.</q> So saying, he extended +his hand to the spearman, and the two old men embraced +each other before me. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Prisoner,</q> said I, <q>if there be any thing in which +<pb n="76"/><anchor id="Pg076"/>we can serve you, command our aid. We have already +done our duty; if we can also do any thing that may +give ease to your mind now, or comfort to your kindred, +you have but to speak.</q>—<q>Sir,</q> replied he, <q>I see by +the eagle wings on your helmet, that you are one in +authority, and I hear by your voice that you are young. +There is a certain thing, concerning which I had some +purpose to speak to this old brother.</q>—<q>Speak with +confidence,</q> said I; <q>although I am a Roman, and +bear all loyalty to Cæsar, yet this Prætorian helmet is +not mine, and I have but assumed it for the sake of +having access to your prison. I am no soldier of Trajan: +Whatever I can do for you without harm to others, +speak, and I will do it. I will swear to you——</q> +<q>Nay, sir,</q> said he, <q>swear not—mock not the God of +heaven, by invoking idol or demon—I believe your +word—but, since you will hear, there is no need why +any other should be witness to my request.</q>—<q>I will +retire,</q> said the other, <q>and keep watch at the door. I +am but a poor spearman, and this young patrician +can do more than I.</q>—<q>Be it so,</q> said the prisoner, a +second time embracing him; <q>I would not willingly +expose you to any needless danger; and yet I see not +what danger there is in all that I have to ask.</q> +</p> + +<p> +With this the spearman withdrew; and being left +alone with Tisias, I took his hand, and sitting down +beside him on his pallet, shortly explained to him the +circumstances under which I had come thither. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Young sir,</q> said he, <q>I know not what is about +the sound of your voice, and the frankness of your +demeanour, that makes me feel confidence enough to +intrust you with a certain thing, which concerns not +<pb n="77"/><anchor id="Pg077"/>myself, nor any hope of mine, for that were little—but +the interests of one that is far dearer to me than I can +express, and who, I hope, will live many happy days +upon earth, after I shall have sealed my belief in the +message of God, by blood that has of old been exposed +a thousand times to all mortal perils, for the sake of +worthless things. But a very short while ago, and I +might have executed this thing for myself; but weakness +overcame me at the moment of parting.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>If it be any thing which you would have me +convey to any one, say where I may find the person,</q> +said I, <q>and be assured I shall deliver it in +safety.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Sir,</q> he proceeded, <q>I have here with me certain +writings, which I have carried for these twenty years +continually in my bosom. Among these, is one of the +sacred books of the faith for which I am to die, and I +would fain have it placed in the hands of one to whom +I know it will be dearest of all for the sake of that +which it contains; but, I hope, dear also for the sake +of him that bequeaths it. Will you seek out a certain +Roman lady, and undertake to give into her own hands, +in secret, the scroll which I shall give you?</q>—<q>I will +do my endeavour,</q> said I; <q>and if I cannot find means +to execute your command, I shall destroy the book with +my own hands before I quit Rome—for my stay here +is uncertain.</q>—<q>If you cannot find means to do what +I ask safely,</q> he replied, <q>I do not bid you destroy the +book—<hi rend="italic">that</hi> is yours to do with as it shall seem good +to you—but I conjure you to read it before you throw +it away. Nay, even as it is, I conjure you to read it +before you seek to give it to her whose name I shall +<pb n="78"/><anchor id="Pg078"/>mention.</q>—<q>Old man,</q> said I, <q>almost I believe that +I already know her name, and more besides. If it be +so that I have conjectured aright, be assured that all +you ask shall be fulfilled to the letter; be assured also, +that I would die with you to-morrow, rather than live +to be the cause or instrument of any evil thing to her +that but now visited you in your dungeon.</q>—<q>Alas!</q> +cried the old man, starting up, <q>lay not this also, O +Lord! upon my head. Let the old bear witness—but +let the young be spared, to serve thee in happier years +upon the earth!</q>—<q>Be not afraid,</q> said I, <q>if it was +Athanasia, no one suspected it but myself; and I have +already told you that I would die rather than bring +evil upon her head.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yes,</q> he answered, after a pause—<q>it was, indeed, +Athanasia. Who is it but she that would have left the +halls of nobles, and the couches of peace, to breathe at +midnight the air of a dungeon, that she might solace +the last moments of a poor man, and, save the bond of +Christ, a stranger! But if you have known her before, +and spoken with her before, then surely she must indeed +be safe in your hands. You know where she dwells—that +I myself know not. Here is the scroll, from which +that noble maiden has heard my humble voice essay to +expound the words of eternal life. I charge you to +approach her with reverence, and give into her own +hands my dying bequest; yet, as I have said, deliver it +not to her till you have yourself read what it contains.</q>—<q>Christian,</q> +said I, placing the writing in my +bosom, <q>have no fear—I will read your book, and ere +two nights have gone over my head, I shall find means +to place it in the hands of Athanasia; and now, +fare<pb n="79"/><anchor id="Pg079"/>well.</q>—<q>Nay, not yet for the last time. Will you +not come in the morning, and behold the death of a +Christian?</q>—<q>Alas!</q> said I, <q>what will it avail that +I should witness the shedding of your blood? The +Prince may have reason to regard you as an offender +against the state; but I have spoken with you in your +solitude, and know that your heart is noble. Would +to Heaven, that by going thither I could avert your +fate!</q>—<q>Methinks, sir,</q> he replied, <q>it may be weakness—but +yet methinks it would give me some farther +comfort in my death, to know that there was at least +one Roman there, who would not see me die without +pity; and besides I must have you constrain yourself, +that you may be able to carry the tidings of my departure. +Her prayers will be with me, but not her eyes. +You must tell Athanasia the manner of my death.</q>—<q>For +that cause,</q> said I, <q>I will constrain myself, and +be present in the Amphitheatre.</q>—<q>Then, farewell,</q> +said he; <q>——and yet go not. In whatsoever faith +you live,—in whatsoever faith you die, the blessing of +an old man and a Christian can do you no harm.</q> So +saying, the old man stood up, and leaning his hand on +my head as I sat, pronounced over me a blessing which +I never shall forget. <q>The Lord bless thee—the Lord +enlighten thy darkness—the Lord plant his seed in +thy kind heart—the Lord give thee also to die the +death of a Christian!</q> +</p> + +<p> +When he had said so, he sat down again; and I +departed greatly oppressed in spirit, yet feeling, I know +not how or why, as I would rather have lost many +merry days, than that dark and sorrowful hour. The +soldiers in the guard-room were so much engaged in +<pb n="80"/><anchor id="Pg080"/>their different occupations, that they heeded me not as, +dropping my borrowed habiliments, I stept silently to +the gate; and I was soon out of sight of their flaming +watch-fires, and far from the sounds of their noisy +mirth. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="9" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="81"/><anchor id="Pg081"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter IX"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter IX"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER IX.</hi></head> + +<p> +The Roman streets were totally silent and deserted. +It was the first time that I had been in the presence of +a human being, foreseeing distinctly, and quietly waiting, +the termination of his mortal existence, and I could +not help asking of myself, how, under similar circumstances +of terror, I should have been able to sustain my +spirits?—to what resources I should, in such a moment, +look for the support which seemed to have been +vouchsafed so abundantly to this old man; by what +charm, in fine,—by what tenet of philosophy, or by +what hope of religion,—I should, in the midst of life, +be able to reconcile myself to a voluntary embrace of +death! To avoid disgrace, indeed, and dishonour, said +I, I think I could be Roman enough to dare the worst; +but this poor man is willing to die, rather than acknowledge, +by one offering on the altar, the deities in whose +worship all his Greek ancestors have been trained; yet +who, except perhaps a few obscure individuals that have +adopted the same new superstition, would think this +man dishonoured by returning to the religion of his +fathers? Deep, indeed, must be his conviction of the +truth of that which he professes to believe—serious +indeed must be his faith, and high his trust. What if, +<pb n="82"/><anchor id="Pg082"/>after all, his faith should be true, and his trust wise? +And the gentle Athanasia!—She too a Christian! +Might not this mystery be hereafter explained to me by +her lips? +</p> + +<p> +Musing and meditating thus, it was no wonder that +I, who knew so little of Rome, should have soon wandered +from the straight way to the home of my kinsman. +But that I at last caught, at the turning of a +street, a glimpse of the Flavian Amphitheatre, which I +had before passed on my way from the feast of Rubellia, +I might, perhaps, have wandered long. I had some +notion how that grand edifice was situated with respect +to the house of Licinius, and therefore moved towards +it immediately, intending to pass straight down from +thence into the Sacred Way. But when I came close +to the Amphitheatre, I found that, surrounded on all +sides by a city of sleep and silence, that region was +already filled with all manner of noise and tumult, in +consequence of the preparations which had begun to be +made for the spectacles. The east hardly yet indicated +dawn; but the torches and lanterns of workmen and +artificers were in motion every where. On one side, +the whole way was blocked up with a throng of waggons; +the conductors, almost all Ethiopians and Numidians, +lashing each other’s horses, and exchanging, in +their barbarous tongues, outcries of wrath and execration. +The bellowings that resounded from any of the +waggons, which happened to be set in motion amidst +the throng, intimated that savage beasts were confined +within them; and when I had discovered this, and +then regarded the prodigious multitude of the vehicles, +I cannot say what horror came over me at thinking +<pb n="83"/><anchor id="Pg083"/>what cruel sights, and how lavish in cruelty, were +become the favourite pastimes of the most refined of +nations. I recognized the well-known short deep snort +of the wild boar, and the long hollow bark of the wolf; +but a thousand fierce sounds, mingled with these, were +new to my ears. One voice, however, was so grand in +its notes of sullen rage, that I could not help asking a +soldier, who sate on horseback near me, from what +monster it proceeded. The man answered, that it was +a lion; but then what laughter arose among some of +the rabble, that had overheard my interrogation; and +what contemptuous looks were thrown upon me by the +naked negroes, who sate grinning in the torch-light, on +the tops of their carriages! Then one or two of the +soldiers would be compelled to ride into the midst of +the confusion, to separate some of these wretches, fighting +with their whips about precedence in the approach; +and it seemed to me that the horses could not away +with the strong sickly smell of the wild beasts; for they +would prance, and caper, and rear on end, and snort as +if panic-struck, and dart themselves towards the other +side; while some of the riders were thrown off in the +midst of the tumult, and others, with fierce and strong +bits, compelled the frightened or infuriated animals to +endure the thing they abhorred—in their wrath and +pride forcing them even nearer than was necessary. In +another quarter, this close-mingled pile of carts and +horses was surmounted by the enormous heads of elephants, +thrust up into the air, some of them with their +huge lithe trunks lashing and beating (for they, too, as +you have heard, would rather die than snuff in the +breath of these monsters of the woods,) while the tiara’d +<pb n="84"/><anchor id="Pg084"/>heads of their riders would be seen tossed to and fro by +their contortions. What a cry of cursing, what cracking +of whips and cords, what blowing of horns, and whistling +and screaming; and all this mixed with what +roaring and howling from the savage creatures caged +in darkness! +</p> + +<p> +I went, however, for a moment, into the Amphitheatre, +by a little side-way, where admission was +cheaply obtained. Here, as yet, all things were in order, +for the hour had not yet come for giving the wild beasts +entrance to the huge dens prepared for them. A few +carpenters only were seen in one corner, erecting a sort +of low stage, and singing merrily, of whom, when I +made inquiry concerning the purpose of that erection, one +of these fellows also began to jeer; <q>Whence come you, +good sir, that you do not know a common scaffold when +you see it? It is surely not the first time that a Christian +has had his head chopped off in the Flavian?</q>—<q>By +Pluto, I am not so sure about that matter,</q> quoth +another. <q>I don’t know whether any of the dogs were +ever beheaded here or not; if they have been, I can +only say it was better than they deserved.</q>—<q>There +spoke a true man,</q> cries a third. <q>No, no; keep beheading +for Romans—let citizens have their own. +Things are come to a pretty pass, when they shew us +nothing but tigers against tigers. By Jove, I would +rather see one of those misbelieving Atheists set right +before the mouth of a true Getulian lion’s cage, and +hear his bones cracked ere all be over,—I say, I would +rather see that, than fifty of your mere beast fights.</q>—<q>After +all,</q> rejoined the first, <q>it must be allowed that +our Cæsar had a fine eye for the +Amphitheatre.</q>—<pb n="85"/><anchor id="Pg085"/><q>Who doubts it?</q> says the other. <q>Rome has never +seen any thing that deserved to be called a show, since +he was killed by sneaking traitors. They say, Nero +was still better at that sort of work; but <q>let the skinless +Jew believe,</q> as the saying is. I desire to see no +better sport than Domitian gave us the very week before +his death. We shall never live to see his like again!</q>—<q>Come, +boys,</q> rejoins one of the rest; <q>no despairing! +I had begun to think that these good princes, as +they call them, would never shew us a bit of real sport +again. Here, now, is at least something. Who can +tell what may follow? and, besides, if the worst come +to the worst, we shall still have lions against lions, +tigers against tigers, Dacians against Dacians, and now +and then a Jew or a Christian, or whatever you please +to call him, exhibited <foreign lang="la" rend="italic">solus</foreign> on such a stage as this. +Come, come, don’t make matters worse than they are.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The ruffians shewed that they knew well enough I +was displeased, and I half regretted, as I strode away +from them, the want of that Prætorian helmet, which +would have preserved me from the insolence of +their mirth. However, I was well pleased to gain a +distance at which I could no longer be troubled with +them, and walked with rapid steps along the wide +streets, over which morning was now beginning to +shine; while the air, agitated with a quick breeze, +refreshed my cheeks and temples—of which I had +need, being heated with the glare and noise, and, perhaps, +faint, too, after the manner of the young, from +want of sleep. +</p> + +<p> +I was admitted into the house by Dromo, who seemed +to have been looking out for me; for he opened the +<pb n="86"/><anchor id="Pg086"/>door almost before I had time to knock at it. He regarded +me as I entered with a very cunning face; insomuch, +that I comprehended without difficulty, he +believed me to have spent the night in some scene of +debauch; but he, nevertheless, attended me, without +saying a word, into my chamber. He then assumed a +countenance of great reflection, and advised me, with +much appearance of friendly concern, to go to bed, even +although I could not stay long there; <q>because,</q> said +he, <q>you will feel much fresher when you get up; and +let me tell you, you must be up early, for I have already +been with Licinius, who intends to send Sextus with a +present to Rubellia immediately after breakfast; and +you may be sure he will insist on your company, for he +can do nothing without you. Ah! had it not been for +a certain pretty creature, the young gentleman would +not, I am confident, have permitted you to be going +the rounds in this way by yourself. But I take it +something amiss, and shall tell him so, that he did not +depute me (who am not particularly enamoured just +at present) to go with you, and take care of your safety. +I only wonder how you have got home so well as it is.</q>—<q>Indeed,</q> +said I, <q>good Dromo, I cannot help wondering +a little at that myself—for I have been all +through the city, and lost my way half-a-dozen times +over, and yet here you see I am.</q>—<q>The more reason,</q> +quoth the slave, <q>that you should send some little +offering to Mercury’s Temple over the way, in the +morning—a few sesterces will be sufficient—and if +you have no objections, I shall willingly take care of +them for you. Mercury is the guardian of all that travel +about in the dark; and besides, he is the special patron +<pb n="87"/><anchor id="Pg087"/>of love expeditions. But to say the truth, you are +not the only person that owes a gift to that shrine; for +the worthy sage—Xerophrastes—he, too, has been a +night-wanderer—and he has not yet come in. I have +my doubts whether, when he does so, he will be as sober +as you are; but I must take care to be at my post, and +admit him in silence, for the time is not yet come to +uncloak his doings. Trust me, this is not the only +vagary I have set down to his account—all in good +time. But what says my master Valerius, touching the +offering to the great God Hermes?</q> +</p> + +<p> +I saw, by the knave’s face, that it was necessary the +sesterces should be forthcoming. <q>Here they are,</q> +said I, <q>good Dromo; and remember, that although +Mercury, among other things, is the god of thieves also, +he will not be well pleased if you curtail his offering.</q> +<q>Never mind,</q> answered the varlet, as he was shuffling +out of the room, <q>Mercury and I understand each other +of old. Go to bed, and try to get a little of your own +old British red into your cheeks again; for Licinius +has a hawk’s eye, and will be sure to have his suspicions, +if he sees you come down with such a haggard +look. Remember you have not a beard to cover half +your face, and all your iniquities.</q> +</p> + +<p> +So saying, he left me to my couch, indeed, but not +to slumber; for busy thoughts kept me broad awake, +till, after the lapse of perhaps an hour, young Sextus +entered my apartment, already arrayed with more than +usual elegance, to execute, however unwillingly, the +message of his father. He had in his hand a small +casket of open ivory-work, which he flung down on +my bed, saying, <q>Get up, dear Valerius, and save me +<pb n="88"/><anchor id="Pg088"/>at least from the pain of going alone with these gewgaws. +Would to Heaven my father would marry her +himself, and then I should have no objection to carry +as many caskets as he pleases. But do you get up and +assist me; and as we go along, you shall tell me what +you have seen and heard in company with your jovial +Prætorian.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I was soon ready, and ascended, along with my young +friend, the chariot which Licinius had commanded to +be ready. I told him, as we glided through the streets, +as much as I judged expedient; and, in particular, +when I perceived that our charioteer was making a +circuit, in order to avoid the neighbourhood of the +Amphitheatre, I could not help expressing to him the +effect which had been produced in my mind, by my +casual inspection of the preparations. <q>I am afraid, +then,</q> said he, <q>that you will scarcely be willing to +witness the exhibition itself; and yet I would fain +have you to overcome your aversion, both because, +whatever you may think of such things, it is not fitting +that you should go from Rome without once, at least, +seeing how they are conducted; and more particularly, +because I much suspect Rubellia intends to be present +at the festival—in which case I should be sorry to be +compelled to attend upon her without you; and as to +leaving her at the gate of the Amphitheatre, that, you +know, would be quite impossible, unless I wished openly +to contradict the wishes of my father.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I assured him he should not want any comfort +my presence could afford him; although not without, +at the same time, expressing my astonishment that +he should consider it at all probable that his dainty +<pb n="89"/><anchor id="Pg089"/>Rubellia would choose to sit among the spectators of +an exhibition so abounding in circumstances of cruelty, +and, as I had understood, forbidden to her sex. <q>Nay,</q> +answered he, <q>laws and edicts are made to be broken +in such cases; and as for the cruelty of the scene, +there is scarcely a lady in Rome that would be +more scrupulous on that head than my widow. To +tell you the truth, one of the things that makes me +most unwilling to go, is the fear that Sempronia also +may be there; and, perhaps, when she sees me with +Rubellia, give credence to some of the reports which +have been circulated (not without my father’s assent, +I think, if all were known,) about this odious marriage, +which I swear to you shall never take place, although +Licinius were to drive me from his door, and adopt a +stranger.</q>—<q>Sextus,</q> I made answer, <q>if Sempronia +thinks there is any thing serious between the widow and +you, she must think you a pretty rascal, for the violent +love you made to herself at the Villa. But I am sure she +will easily perceive, by your countenance, that you do +not regard Rubellia, handsome as she is, with any +extraordinary admiration; whereas—if you were not +conscious of it, I am sure she must have been so—there +was never a face of more passionate love than +yours, all the time you were in <hi rend="italic">her</hi> company. And, +even now, the very mention of her name calls a glow +into your cheeks,—yes, and even into your eyes,—that +I think would flatter Rubellia, could she excite such +another, more than all the jewels of all the caskets +your father will ever send.</q>—<q>Distract me not, O +Valerius!</q> said the youth,—<q>distract me not with +speaking of that too lovely, and, I fear, too scornful +<pb n="90"/><anchor id="Pg090"/>girl. Do you not perceive that we have at last struck +into the Suburra, and are quite near to Rubellia’s +house?</q>—<q>It is so,</q> said I, looking out of the carriage, +<q>and I suspect you are right in thinking she means to +be present at the Amphitheatre, for there is a crowd of +urchins about her gate, and I perceive a brilliant group +of equipages has attracted them. She purposes to go +in all her splendour.</q>—<q>Good Heavens!</q> replied he, +<q>I believe all the world is to be there. I never passed +so many chariots; and as for the rabble, see what a +stream of heads continues pouring down out of every +alley. My only hope is, that Rubellia may arrive too +late for the best situations, and perhaps disdain to +witness the spectacle from any inferior part of the Amphitheatre; +and yet she must have interest, no doubt, +to have secured good accommodation beforehand.</q> +</p> + +<p> +We were just in time to meet Rubellia stepping from +her portico with a gay cluster of attendants. On seeing +us, however, she beckoned with her finger, and said, +<q>Oh, are you come at last? Well, I must take Valerius +with myself, for I insist upon it that I shall be best +able to point out what is worthy of his notice; and +you, Sextus Licinius, come you also into my chariot; +we will not separate you from your Orestes.</q> She said +so with an air of sprightly ease and indifference, and +sprung into the carriage. An elderly lady, with a broad +merry face, went into it also, but there was still room +for Sextus and myself; and the rest of the party followed +in other vehicles that were waiting. +</p> + +<p> +The crowd by this time had so accumulated, that our +horses could not advance but at leisurely pace; but the +noise of the multitude as they rushed along, and the +<pb n="91"/><anchor id="Pg091"/>tumult of expectation visible on every countenance, +prevented us from thinking of any thing but the +festival. The variety, however, and great splendour +of the equipages, could not but attract my attention. +Now it was an open chariot, drawn by milk-white +Thessalian horses, in which reclined some gorgeous +female, blazing with jewellery, with a cluster of +beautiful boys or girls administering odours to her +nostril; and perhaps some haughty Knight or Senator +now and then offering the refreshment of his flattery. +Then, perhaps, would come rumbling along, a close +clumsy waggon, of the old-fashioned matronly sort, +stuck full with some substantial plebeian family—the +fat, comfortable-looking citizen, and his demure spouse, +sitting well back on their cushions, and having their +knees loaded with an exulting progeny of lads and +lasses, whose faces would, every now and then, be +thrust half out of the window, in spite of the mother’s +tugging at their skirts. And then, again, a cry of +<q>Place, place,</q> and a group of lictors, shoving every +body aside with their rods, before the litter of some +dignified magistrate, who, from pride or gout, preferred +that species of motion to the jolting of a chariot. Such +a portly person as this would soon be hurried past us, +but not before we had time to observe the richness of +the silken cushions on which he lay extended, or the air +of majesty with which he submitted himself to the fan +of the favoured freedman, whose business it was to keep +those authoritative cheeks free from the contamination +of common dust and flies. Anon, a jolly band of young +gallants, pushing their steeds along, to not a few of +whom the fair Rubellia would vouchsafe her salutation. +<pb n="92"/><anchor id="Pg092"/>But wherever the carriage was stopped for an instant, +it was wonderful to see the number of old emaciated +men, and withered hags, that would make their way +close up to the windows, imploring wherewithal to +obtain a morsel. The widow herself leaned back on +these occasions, as if to avoid the sight; but she pointed +to a bag of small coin that hung in a corner of the +chariot, and from it Sextus distributed to the one side, +and I to the other; and yet it was impossible to give to +every one; we were surrounded all the way with a +mingled clamour of benedictions from those that had +received, and execrations from those that had got nothing, +and noisy ever-renewed solicitations from that +ever-swelling army of mendicants. At last, however, +we arrived in safety at the western gate—the same +around which I had, the night before, witnessed such +tumultuous preparation. One of the officers in waiting +there, no sooner descried the equipage, than he caused +a space to be laid open for its approach, and himself +advanced to hand Rubellia into the interior, but she +whispered to Sextus and me, by no means to separate +from her in the crowd. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="10" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="93"/><anchor id="Pg093"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter X"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter X"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER X.</hi></head> + +<p> +Behold me, therefore, in the midst of the Flavian +Amphitheatre, and seated, under the wing of the luxurious +Rubellia, in a very convenient situation. There +was a general silence in the place, because proclamation +had just been made that the gladiators, with whose combats +the exhibition was to commence, were about to +enter upon the arena, and shew themselves in order to +the people. As yet, however, they had not come forth +from that place of concealment to which so many of +their number would never return; so that I had leisure +to collect my thoughts, and survey for a moment, without +disturbance, the mighty and most motley multitude, +piled above, below, and on every side around me, +from the lordly senators, on their silken couches, along +the parapet of the arena, up to the impenetrable mass +of plebeian heads which skirted the horizon, above the +topmost wall of the Amphitheatre itself. Such was the +enormous crowd of human beings, high and low, that +when any motion went through their assembly, the +noise of their rising up or sitting down might be likened +to the sullen roaring of the sea, or the rushing of a great +night-wind in a forest. Not less than eighty thousand +human beings, they told me, were here met together. +<pb n="94"/><anchor id="Pg094"/>Such a multitude could no where be regarded, without +inspiring a certain indefinable sense of majesty; least +of all, when congregated within the wide sweep of such +a glorious edifice, and surrounded on all sides with every +circumstance of ornament and splendour, befitting an +everlasting monument of Roman victory and imperial +munificence. Judge, then, with what eyes all this was +surveyed by me, who had but of yesterday emerged +from a British valley—who had been accustomed all +my life to consider as among the most impressive of +spectacles, the casual passage of a few scores of legionaries +through some dark alley of a wood, or awe-struck village +of barbarians. +</p> + +<p> +Trajan himself was already present—his ivory chair +distinguished only by its canopy from that of the other +Consul who sate over against him; tall and majestic in +his demeanour; grave, sedate, and benign in countenance, +as you have seen in his medals and statues. He +was arrayed in a plain gown, and appeared to converse +quite familiarly, without affectation of condescension, +with such Patricians as had their places near him; +among whom Sextus and Rubellia pointed out many +remarkable personages to my notice; as Adrian, afterwards +emperor; Pliny, the orator, a man of courtly +presence, and lively, agreeable aspect; and, above all, +the historian Tacitus, the worthy son-in-law of our +Agricola, in whose pallid countenance I could easily +recognize the depth, but sought in vain to discover any +traces of the sternness of his genius. Of all the then +proud names that were whispered into my ear, could I +recollect or repeat them now, how few would awaken +any interest in your minds! Those, indeed, which I +<pb n="95"/><anchor id="Pg095"/>have mentioned, have an interest that will never die. +Would that the greatest and the best of them all were +to be remembered only for deeds of greatness and goodness! +</p> + +<p> +The proclamation being repeated a second time, a +door on the right hand of the arena was laid open, and +a single trumpet sounded, as it seemed to me, mournfully, +while the gladiators marched in with slow steps, +each man—naked, except being girt with a cloth about +his loins—bearing on his left arm a small buckler, and +having a short straight sword suspended by a cord +around his neck. They marched, as I have said, slowly +and steadily; so that the whole assembly had full +leisure to contemplate the forms of the men; while +those skilled in such business were fixing, in their own +minds, on such as they thought most likely to be victorious, +and laying wagers concerning their chances of +success, with as much unconcern as if they had been +contemplating irrational animals, or rather, indeed, I +should say, so many pieces of ingenious mechanism. +The diversity of complexion and feature exhibited +among these devoted athletes, afforded at once a majestic +idea of the extent of the empire, and a terrible +one of the purposes to which that wide sway +had often been made subservient. The beautiful Greek, +with a countenance of noble serenity, and limbs after +which the sculptors of his country might have modelled +their symbols of graceful power, walked side by side +with the yellow-bearded savage, whose gigantic muscles +had been nerved in the freezing waves of the Elbe or +Ister, or whose thick strong hair was congealed and +shagged on his brow with the breath of Scythian or +<pb n="96"/><anchor id="Pg096"/>Scandinavian winters. Many fierce Moors and Arabs, +and curled Ethiopians, were there, with the beams of +the southern sun burnt in every various shade of swarthiness +upon their skins. Nor did our own remote +island want her representatives in the deadly procession, +for I saw among the armed multitude—not surely +without some feelings of more peculiar interest—two +or three gaunt barbarians, whose breasts and shoulders +bore uncouth marks of blue and purple, so vivid in the +tints, that I thought many months could not have +elapsed since they must have been wandering in wild +freedom along the native ridges of some Silurian or +Caledonian forest. As they moved around the arena, +some of these men were saluted by the whole multitude +with noisy acclamations, in token, I suppose, of the +approbation wherewith the feats of some former festival +had deserved to be remembered. On the appearance of +others, groans and hisses were heard from some parts of +the Amphitheatre, mixed with contending cheers and +huzzas from others of the spectators. But by far the +greater part were suffered to pass on in silence;—this +being in all likelihood the first—who could tell whether +it might not also be the last day of their sharing +in that fearful exhibition! +</p> + +<p> +Their masters paired them shortly, and in succession +they began to make proof of their fatal skill. At first, +Scythian was matched against Scythian—Greek against +Greek—Ethiopian against Ethiopian—Spaniard against +Spaniard; and I saw the sand dyed beneath their feet +with blood streaming from the wounds of kindred hands. +But these combats, although abundantly bloody and +terrible, were regarded only as preludes to the serious +<pb n="97"/><anchor id="Pg097"/>business of the day, which consisted of duels between +Europeans on the one side, and Africans on the other; +wherein it was the well-nigh intransgressible law of the +Amphitheatre, that at least one out of every pair of +combatants should die. Instead of shrinking from these +more desperate brutalities, the almost certainty of their +termination seemed only to make the assembly gaze on +them with a more intense curiosity and delight. Methinks +I feel as if it were but of yesterday, when,—sickened +with the protracted terrors of a conflict, that +seemed as if it were never to have an end, although both +the combatants were already covered all over with +hideous gashes,—I at last bowed down my head, and +clasped my hands upon my eyes. I had scarcely done +so, when Rubellia laid her hand upon my elbow, whispering, +<q>Look, look, now look,</q> in a voice of low, steady +impatience. I did look, but not to the arena: No; it +was upon the beautiful features of that woman’s face +that I looked, and truly it seemed to me as if they presented +a spectacle almost as fearful. I saw those rich +lips parted, those dark eyes extended, those smooth +cheeks suffused with a steadfast blush, that lovely bosom +swelled and glowing; and I hated Rubellia, for I knew +not before how utterly beauty can be brutalized by the +throbbings of a cruel heart. But I looked round to +escape from the sight of her;—and the hundreds of +females that I saw fixed with equal earnestness on the +same horrors, taught me, even at the moment, to think +with more charity of that pitiless gaze of one. +</p> + +<p> +At that instant all were silent in contemplation of +the breathless strife; insomuch, that a groan, the first +that had escaped from either of the combatants, although +<pb n="98"/><anchor id="Pg098"/>low and suppressed, sounded distinctly amidst the deep +hush, and being constrained to turn once more downwards, +I beheld that, at length, one of the two had +received the sword of his adversary quite through his +body, and had sunk upon the sand. A beautiful young +man was he that had received this harm, with fair hair, +clustered in glossy ringlets upon his neck and brows; +but the sickness of his wound was already visible on his +drooping eye-lids, and his lips were pale, as if the blood +had rushed from them to the untimely outlet. Nevertheless, +the Moorish gladiator who had fought with him +had drawn forth again his weapon, and stood there +awaiting in silence the decision, whether at once to +slay the defenceless youth, or to assist in removing him +from the arena, if perchance the blood might be stopped +from flowing, and some hope of recovery even yet extended. +There arose, on the instant, a loud voice of +contention; and it seemed to me as if the wounded man +regarded the multitude with a proud, contemptuous +glance, being aware, without question, that he had executed +all things so as to deserve their compassion, but +aware, moreover, that even had that been freely vouchsafed +to him, it was too late. But the cruelty of their +faces, it may be, and the loudness of their cries, were a +sorrow to him, and filled his dying breast with loathing. +Whether or not the haughtiness of his countenance had +been observed by them with displeasure, I cannot say; +but those who had cried out to give him a chance +of recovery, were speedily silent, and Cæsar looking +round, and seeing all the thumbs turned downwards, +was constrained to give the sign, and forthwith the +young man, receiving again without a struggle the +sword of the Moor into his gashed bosom, breathed forth +<pb n="99"/><anchor id="Pg099"/>his life, and lay stretched out in his blood upon the +place of guilt. With that a joyous clamour was uplifted +by many of those that looked upon it, and the victorious +Moor, being crowned with an ivy garland, was carried +in procession around the arena by certain young men, +who leaped down for that purpose from the midst of +the assembly. In the meantime, those that had the +care of such things, dragged away, with a filthy hook, +the corpse of him that had been slain; and then, raking +up the sand over the blood that had fallen from him, +prepared the place, with indifferent countenances, for +some other tragedy,—while all around me, the spectators +were seen rising from their places, and saluting +each other; and there was a buzz of talking as universal +as the silence had been during the combat; some speaking +of this thrust and that ward, and paying and +receiving money lost and won; some already discoursing +of other matters, as if nothing uncommon had been witnessed; +while others, again, appeared to be entirely +occupied with the martial music which ever struck up +majestically at such pauses, beating time upon the +benches before them, or joining their voices with the +proud notes of the trumpets and clarions. Rubellia talked +gaily with Sextus, inviting him to ridicule me with her, +for the strangeness of behaviour I had displayed. +</p> + +<p> +The sun, by this, had already mounted high in the +heavens, and the glare became so intolerable, that men +could no longer fight on equal terms; which being perceived, +Cæsar gave command to look after the wild +beasts, and, in the meantime, (for I heard his voice +distinctly,) to give warning to the Flamens that they +should have their altar set forth. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="11" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="100"/><anchor id="Pg100"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter XI"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter XI"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER XI.</hi></head> + +<p> +Upon this, Trajan, with those immediately about his +person, withdrew; but Rubellia told me he had only +gone to the Palatine by the subterraneous path, for the +purpose of taking some refreshment, and that there was +no doubt he would return in time to witness the rest +of the spectacle. This example, however, was followed +in some sort by a great part of the spectators, for some +departed altogether from the Amphitheatre, while many +more were seen moving from place to place, crossing +from one vomitory to another, and paying their respects +to different parties of friends, who had occupied places +at a distance from them during the combats. In the +meantime, servants of Trajan’s household were observed +giving directions in the arena to a great number of +persons, who afterwards began to distribute baskets of +dried fish, bread, and other eatables, among such as +chose to accept of them; while viands of a more costly +description were introduced among the wealthy, by +slaves and freedmen of their own. Neither were the +bearers of water-jars idle, nor the street hawkers of +fruit; least of all, those whose traffic is in snow,—of +whom, I believe, hundreds were scrambling in all quarters +over the benches, whistling shrilly, as is their +method, to announce the article in which they dealt. +</p> + +<pb n="101"/><anchor id="Pg101"/> + +<p> +The Lady Rubellia was not one of those who would +ever leave her friends destitute of the means of refreshment +on such an occasion as this; and accordingly two +or three of her household were soon with us, bearing +jars of sweet-meats, baskets of fruit, flasks of wine, with +other appurtenances of a luxurious collation. We had +scarcely begun to taste of these things, when our attention +was attracted by some one striding, with great +activity, from one row of benches to another behind us, +and looking round, I discovered the rosy countenance +of Sabinus, whose anxiety to join us was, as I immediately +suspected, the cause of this exertion. An ordinary +person would have sought some circuitous method +of approach, rather than attempt the sheer descent from +one of the stone parapets which rose immediately in +our rear; but the brawny limbs of the Centurion shrunk +not from that adventurous leap, and, in a word, I soon +found him seated beside us, bowing and smiling to Rubellia +with his usual mixture of boldness and suavity. +He delayed not from participation in her delicacies; but +lifting a goblet of Falernian, drank down, without +stopping, till he could see the foundation of its interior +gold. His fingers also soon became acquainted with the +receptacles of fruit and confectionary; and I was half-inclined +to some suspicion, that he might perhaps have +remained in his original situation, had he not chanced +to observe the slaves of Rubellia, as they came up the +vomitory, with their comely-looking, napkin-covered +baskets upon their heads. As it was, his arrival was +acceptable, except perhaps to Rubellia, who I thought +looked as if she were not overmuch pleased with the +interruption his mirthful talk occasioned to the +conver<pb n="102"/><anchor id="Pg102"/>sation on which she had been endeavouring to fix the +attention of young Licinius. +</p> + +<p> +For that, however, another interruption had been +already prepared in another part of the assembly, from +which our Xerophrastes also had taken cognizance of +our position. There was such a crowd, however, immediately +below us, that I know not whether the philosopher +would ever have been able to make his way to +the region where we sat, had it not been that we heard +his voice in disputation, and entreated those that opposed +his passage, if possible, to make room for him. +The first glimpse we had of his countenance, shewed us +that the squeeze had been giving him serious inconvenience, +for the drops of perspiration stood visible on his +bald front. The persons whom he was addressing, however, +seemed to listen with such unconcern, that it was +impossible not to feel somewhat displeased with them, +for treating so disrespectfully one whom his venerable +aspect might have entitled to more courtesy. In vain +did he represent to them, (for we heard his strong voice +distinctly every now and then,) that it was not for the +sake of any personal ease or convenience he was desirous +of penetrating into an upper part. In vain did he +reiterate <q>My pupil</q>—<q>my disciple</q>—<q>my young +scholar, Sextus Licinius</q>—<q>the son of Caius Licinius</q>—<q>the +son of the great orator Caius Licinius is there.</q> +In vain did he enlarge upon the constancy of attention +which philosophers owe to those who are placed by the +hands of parents under their superintendence. No +sooner, however, did Sextus and I begin to shew the +interest we took in his situation, than Sabinus raised +himself up on the bench, and called aloud on those that +<pb n="103"/><anchor id="Pg103"/>surrounded the Stoic, with a voice of much sternness +and authority, to let him pass immediately at their +peril. +</p> + +<p> +Many eyes were forthwith turned towards us; and +whether it were the dignity and haughtiness of the +Centurion’s voice and attitude, or that his garb alone +gave him much weight in the assembly, the resistance +was relaxed, and Xerophrastes enjoyed an opportunity +of almost entirely recovering his usual serenity of aspect +before he reached us. The first thing he did was to +accept of a cup which I held out to him, and then with +much courtesy did he thank us all, but most the Centurion, +for the part he had taken in working out his +deliverance from the hands, as he expressed it, of those +inhuman and illiterate persons; <q>while you,</q> he continued, +<q>brave warrior, have shewn that in your breast, +as in that of Epaminondas—of Alexander—and of +your own Julius—the reverence of the muses, and of +divine philosophy, does not disdain to inhabit with the +ardour of active patriotism, and the spirit-stirring delights +of Mars.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>As for that,</q> said Rubellia, with a smile, <q>all the +world knows that Sabinus is quite a philosopher—he +was just beginning a very learned harangue when we +were attracted by your voice in the crowd; and you +have the more reason to thank him, because he was cut +very unseasonably short, in consequence of the distress +in which we perceived you.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Most noble lady!</q> replied the Stoic, <q>you know +not how much you have delighted me; from the first moment, +indeed, that my eyes rested upon the countenance +of your heroic friend, I suspected that he had subjected +<pb n="104"/><anchor id="Pg104"/>himself to some other discipline besides that of camps. +I saw the traces of thought, lady—and serious contemplation. +The mind can never exercise its faculties, +without conveying some symptoms of those internal +operations to the external surface of the visage. The +soul can never energize habitually, without betraying +its activity in the delicacy and acumen, which the more +elegant and susceptible parts of the corporeal frame +acquire during those elaborate and mysterious processes +of thought. I saw, therefore, and suspected. But what +thanks are not due to you, for having so agreeably confirmed +me in this happy suspicion! Of a surety, the +noise and tumult of the camp is not so well adapted for +the theoretic or contemplative life, as perfect leisure +and retirement; yet, who shall doubt that the soul of +great energy can overcome all such disadvantages? Who +shall think that the spirit of Socrates did not eagerly +philosophize during the campaign he served?—Who +shall say that the Stagyrite must have suspended his +acute, although imperfect investigations, even although +he had accompanied his royal pupil across the Hellespont, +and attended all the motions of his victorious +army, instead of staying at home to teach the youth of +Greece?—Who, finally,</q> said he, casting his courteous +eyes full on the Prætorian, <q>shall suspect but that this +generous warrior has been effectually advancing the +growth of philosophic science, within his own mind at +least,—if not composing works, in his intervals of leisure, +destined hereafter to benefit and instruct the world, +even although he may have been attending the flight of +the Eagle from utmost Britain to the desert frontiers of +the Parthian?</q>—<q>Nobody, indeed,</q> replied the +spor<pb n="105"/><anchor id="Pg105"/>tive lady—<q>nobody, indeed, who has enjoyed any +opportunity of being acquainted with the Centurion, +can have any doubt on that head.—Sabinus,</q> she continued, +turning towards him, <q>what treatise are you at +present engaged with? Come, now, speak out, and +truly;—are you still busy with your <foreign lang="grc">περι της Φυσεως του οιστρου βακχικου</foreign>,<note place="foot"><q>Concerning the nature of the Bacchic Stimulus.</q></note> that you were quoting from the other +night?—or are you deep in <q><hi rend="italic">the delight of contemplation</hi>?</q>—or——</q>—<q>Not +at all,</q> quoth the Centurion, +interrupting her; <q>I am only deep in <hi rend="italic">love</hi>——</q> Saying +so, he laid his hand in a very tender fashion upon +his breast, and even, as I thought, began to throw a +little sentiment into his eyes; but he had no opportunity +of going on with his speech, for Xerophrastes +had no sooner heard him utter the word <hi rend="italic">love</hi>, than he +immediately began to pour out a new rhapsody. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Love!</q> quoth he; <q>Ha! love:—in good sooth, a +noble subject, and one concerning which not a few +laudable treatises have been composed. Yet, without +question, much remains to be done in this matter; and +I should be most proud if the illustrious Sabinus would +vouchsafe to me a perusal of his speculations. Without +question,</q> he continued, <q>you have commenced with +a proper definition and division of the subject. You +have distinguished betwixt what is properly called <hi rend="italic">love</hi>, +and the other more or less kindred affections, with which +hallucinating writers have too often committed the error +of confounding it. You have described, in the first +place, the difference between it and the <foreign lang="grc" rend="italic">Storgé</foreign> or natural +affection which parents have for their offspring—an +<pb n="106"/><anchor id="Pg106"/>affection in which not a few of the irrational tribes +appear (if physiologists may be trusted) to be even +superior to the human race.</q>—<q>Hens, for example,</q> +quoth the Centurion, with a face of infinite gravity.—<q>Even +so—<hi rend="italic">hens</hi>,</q> continued the sage; <q>an apt illustration.—I +perceive, indeed, lady,</q> whispered he to +Rubellia, <q>that you have not deceived me concerning +the attainments of this your noble friend.—Hens—a +most acute illustration!—See you now, O Sextus!</q> +he went on, <q>it is not the characteristic of true philosophy +to despise those illustrations which are drawn +from the affairs of ordinary life, and the common surfaces +of things. No: it is rather her part to shew forth +her own intrinsic excellence and splendour, by raising +that which is in itself low and customary, to unexpected +dignity, by her methods of felicitous application. See +you, now, with what unexampled skill this hero—this +philosopher, I should rather say—may I presume to +add, this brother philosopher?—has illustrated the +nature of love in this treatise of his, by introducing the +domestic habits of your common household fowl. Such +things should not pass unheeded by the young aspirants +to learning, because these, more than any other circumstances, +may furnish them with encouragement to proceed +in their course, by shewing how many of the materials +of philosophy lie every where under the eyes of +the most common traveller of the path of life; and how +assuredly it is the fault of the individual himself, if he +neglect the means of spiritual advancement, which are +sure to be afforded in whatever situation may chance to +have been assigned to him.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I beg your pardon for interrupting you,</q> said +Ru<pb n="107"/><anchor id="Pg107"/>bellia; <q>but Sabinus has almost finished the grapes +while you have been speaking; and I would only just +beg to suggest, that it is the fault of the individual, +Xerophrastes, if he neglects the means of corporeal refreshment, +which may yet be afforded to him by what +remains in the basket.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Most kind lady,</q> resumed he, <q>your benevolence +is worthy of your nobility.—But you know not how +much the philosophy I have embraced, tends to lessen +the natural desire of man for such things as you allude +to—nevertheless,</q> he continued, <q>I will not refuse to +partake yet farther of your bounty; for I have been +sorely dealt with in the multitude, as yourselves witnessed.</q> +</p> + +<p> +So saying, he took hold of the basket, and began to +feel in the bottom of it, but found very little to his +purpose; for, to say the truth, the rest of the party had +been almost as eager in their attentions to it as the +Centurion. A few slender bunches, notwithstanding, +were still there, one of which the philosopher thrust +into his mouth, and the rest he concealed beneath one +of the folds of his huge mantle, until he should have +made an end of his criticism. Meantime, the natural +language of the broad, jovial, unreflective countenance +of our worthy Centurion, seemed considerably at variance +from the notion of his attainments and pursuits, +which this merry lady had been instilling into the pedagogue. +Rubellia herself, however, appeared to enjoy +the thing far more keenly than either Sextus or I; +insomuch, that I was afraid Xerophrastes would penetrate +through the joke she was playing off upon him, +before he had given himself his full swing in +commen<pb n="108"/><anchor id="Pg108"/>dation of the Prætorian. But Sabinus, on his side, +was, as it seemed, of opinion, that he had already heard +enough of such disquisitions; for he had scarcely seen +out the last cup of Falernian, ere he began to give hints +that he wished very much to descend into the arena, +for the purpose of observing the animals about to be +exhibited, while they were yet in their cages. Xerophrastes, +however, even when he had heard him signify +this desire, appeared still to be resolved on considering +him as one of the philosophic order of mankind; for +he at once offered to accompany him, saying, that +the visit was of course intended for the gratification +of some scientific curiosity, and that therefore he +should think himself culpable did he neglect the +opportunity. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Come, then,</q> quoth the good-natured Sabinus, <q>by +all means prepare yourself for the descent; but at least +allow me to precede you, that there may be no risk of +untimely obstructions.</q>—<q>Most assuredly, noble Centurion,</q> +replied Xerophrastes, <q>in this, as in all things, +I shall be proud to be enumerated among your followers. +My pupil, also,</q> he added, <q>and his friend, will no +doubt accompany us, that they may benefit by our discourse +on whatever may be subjected to observation.</q>—<q>Venerated +friend,</q> said Rubellia, <q>would you leave +the ladies by themselves in the midst of the Amphitheatre? +I hope Sextus Licinius, at least, will consider +our weakness, and remain for our protection.</q> +</p> + +<p> +She laid her hand on my companion’s arm, with a +look which was decisive. Her ancient crony whispered +something about the impropriety of leaving only one of +the party to attend upon two females; but I took +advan<pb n="109"/><anchor id="Pg109"/>tage of her low tone to pretend ignorance of that hint, +and rose with the Centurion. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Go quickly,</q> said Sextus, <q>for the interval must +be well-nigh at an end; and if those that have gone out +begin to rush in again, you may have difficulty in regaining +your places.</q>—<q>Give fear to the winds,</q> quoth +Sabinus; <q>am not I with them, that know every lion-feeder +in Rome? No chance of the exhibition recommencing +without my having sufficient warning. It is +not for nothing that I have lost and won so many thousand +sesterces in the Amphitheatre. Would to Hercules +as much respect were paid to experience every where +else, as in the Arena to your true old Better. Already, +I perceive that half a dozen of those knowing characters +down below, about the entrances to the dens, have detected +me. They must fancy my purse is in a poor +state indeed, when I don’t seem to think it worth while +to take even a single peep at the cages. Come, worthy +brother in philosophy, and you, my fellow-voyager, let +us be alert, lest we arrive after Platæa.</q> +</p> + +<p> +We obeyed with due alacrity, and, leaving the reluctant +Sextus to his fate, touched presently the margin of +the arena. We had no sooner arrived there, than an +old skin-dried limping Numidian, with a bit of lion’s +hide fastened round his loins—one who, from his leanness +and blackness, had very much the appearance of +having been baked to a cinder, drew to the Centurion, +with many nods and significant grins of recognition. +Sabinus, on his part, seemed noways backward to +acknowledge this acquaintance; but, on the contrary, +began to talk volubly with him in a strange sort of +broken dialect, chiefly composed, as I afterwards learned, +<pb n="110"/><anchor id="Pg110"/>of Punic vocables. After this had lasted some minutes, +he took Xerophrastes and me by the hand, and seemed +to introduce us to the Numidian, who then desired us +all to come down, and he would conduct us to a place +where we should see something not unworthy of being +seen. About to follow these directions, I felt my gown +seized from behind, and looking round, observed that it +was my faithful Briton, who, from the heat and confusion +of his aspect, appeared not to have come thither +without a considerable struggle. Sabinus seeing him, +said, <q>Ah! my old friend Boto, how have you come +to this part of the Amphitheatre? We must not leave +you behind us, however: Of a surety, you have never +seen a lion—you shall descend along with your master; +and who knows but we may persuade Xerophrastes that +you also are a brother philosopher?</q>—<q>Most noble +Centurion,</q> replied the grateful slave, <q>I saw you and +my master from the very topmost bench, where I have +been sitting for these three hours with Dromo, and I +was determined to draw near to you, if it were possible. +To go from this place up to yonder quarter would perhaps +be impossible; but it is never a very difficult +matter to go down in this world; so, saving your +reverence, I trundled myself over the benches, and when +heads were in my way, I trundled myself over them +too.</q>—<q>It is well, good Briton,</q> quoth the Centurion—by +this time we had crossed the arena—<q>and now +prepare to exercise your eyes as well as you already +have exercised your limbs; for know, that very near +to you is the abode of nobler animals than even your +lord hath ever observed.</q> +</p> + +<p> +With this the African opened one of the iron doors +<pb n="111"/><anchor id="Pg111"/>edging the arena, and having received some money, +admitted us to the sight of a long flight of marble steps, +which appeared to descend into the bowels of the earth, +far below the foundation of the Amphitheatre. <q>Come +along, masters,</q> quoth he; <q>we had better go down +this way, for we shall have a better view of the animals +so, than on the other side. My master, Sabinus, will +tell you all, that old Aspar knows as much about these +things as any Numidian in the place.</q>—<q>Indeed, since +friend Bisbal is gone,</q> quoth the Centurion, <q>there is +not another of these that is to be compared to you.</q>—<q>Ah!</q> +replied Aspar, <q>Bisbal was a great man; there +is not a feeder in Rome that is worthy to tie the latchet +of his sandals, if he were alive.</q>—<q>Why, as to that,</q> +said the other, <q>old Bisbal was very seldom worth a +pair of sandals worth the tying, when he was alive; +but, come on, we have no great leisure for talking now, +and Aspar shall shew a lion with any Bisbal that ever +wielded whip.—Come on.</q> +</p> + +<p> +We soon reached a large vaulted place, apparently +below the Amphitheatre, the sides of which were almost +entirely covered with iron-gratings,—while up and +down the open space were strolling many strange +groupes of men, connected in different capacities with +the bloody spectacles of the arena. On one hand, we saw +some of the gladiators, who had already been combating, +walking to and fro with restless and agitated steps, as +if they had not yet been able to recover themselves from +the excitement into which their combats had thrown +them. Even of such as had been victorious, I observed +that not a few partook in all these symptoms of uneasiness; +and the contrast thus exhibited to the haughty +mien of calmness they had so lately been displaying, +af<pb n="112"/><anchor id="Pg112"/>fected me with a strange sense of the irrational and inhuman +life these unhappy persons were condemned by folly +or necessity to lead. The blood had forsaken the lips and +cheeks of others, and from the fixed stare of their eyes, it +appeared that their minds were entirely withdrawn from +every thing passing around them. Their limbs, so recently +nerved to the utmost show of vigour, were now +relaxed and unstrung, and they trod the marble floor +with heavy and straggling feet. But they that appeared +to me to be in the most wretched state, were such as, +they told us, expected to be led forth shortly to contend +with the wild beasts, in whose immediate vicinity +they were now walking. The summons to battle with a +human opponent calls into action the fierceness and the +pride of man; but he that has to fight with a beast, +how should he not be weighed down with the sense of +mortal degradation; how should the Reason that is in +him not fill him, in such a prospect, with dispiriting +and humbling, rather than with strengthening and +stimulating thoughts? Howbeit, the Centurion, although +the most good-natured of mankind, being rendered from +custom quite callous to these things, immediately entered +into conversation with some of those unfortunates, +in a tone of coolness and unconcern that shocked me +the more, because it did not seem in the smallest degree +to shock them. Among other topics, he enlarged at +much length to one of them upon the best method of +evading the attack of a tiger. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Look ye now,</q> said he, <q>there are some that are +always for taking things, as they call it, in good time,—these +will be pointing their swords before the creature +makes his spring; but I have seen what comes of +that, and so has old Aspar here, if he would be honest +<pb n="113"/><anchor id="Pg113"/>enough to confess it. The true way is to watch his eye +when he is setting; let him fairly fix upon his mark, +and spring; but at the moment when he is taking his +leap, then is the time for the gladiator to start aside, +and have at him with a side-thrust. Your side-thrust +is the only one I would lay an <foreign lang="la" rend="italic">as</foreign> upon.</q>—<q>Yea,</q> +quoth the grinning Aspar,—<q>it was always on your +cool steady side-thrust, the moment he had sprung, that +the great Bisbal used to stake himself. Ha! ha! I was +fond of the side-thrust in my day myself; but I got a +scratch once—witness my poor leg, masters,—and +since then I am a poor feeder.</q>—<q>I was always clear +for the side-thrust,</q> quoth Sabinus. <q>I never saw it +fail but twice, and then, to be sure, the men died; but +they could have had no chance at all with the frontguard; +and it is always something,</q> continued he, +clapping one of the poor expecting gladiators on the +back,—<q>it is always something to have a chance. Be +sure you try him with the side-thrust, if it come to +your turn to-day.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The poor creature—he also was an African—lifted +up his head on being so addressed, and shewed all his +white teeth in a melancholy attempt at a smile; but +said not a word in reply, and forthwith became as downcast +as before. But the Centurion took little or no heed +of the manner in which his advice had been received. +He contemplated the man’s figure for a moment, as if +to form some judgment concerning the measure of his +strength; and after doing the like in regard to some of +his companions, commanded Aspar to shew us where +the prime lions of the day were reposing. +</p> + +<p> +The Numidian seized a long pole that was leaning +<pb n="114"/><anchor id="Pg114"/>against one of the pillars of the vault, and led us to a +certain part of the grated wall, behind which was the +den, wherein six monstrous Atlantic lions were kept. +I looked in upon them with wonder, and not without +dread, through the iron net-work of the doors. An imperfect +gleam of light descended from above upon their +tawny hides and glaring eyes. They, like the gladiators, +seemed also to be preparing for the combat; but not +like them in fear, nor in cold dewy tremors; for the +deprivation of food, which they had been made to suffer +in prospect of the exhibition, had roused all the energies +of their savage natures; insomuch, that a sulky and +yearning rage seemed to spread through every nerve and +sinew of their gigantic frames, and to make them paw +their quadrangular prison with long and pliant strides. +They moved, however, as yet in total silence; so that +Boto having fixed his eyes upon them, took courage to +approach the grate,—slowly, nevertheless, and with a +face that appeared to lengthen an inch for every inch +he advanced. But when he had almost touched the +bars, one of the huge lions came forward towards him, +with something between a growl and a sigh, which +made Boto spring backward with great and surprising +agility, and with such force, that both he and Xerophrastes, +who happened unfortunately to have been +standing a little way behind him, were overthrown at +all their length upon the floor. +</p> + +<p> +The Centurion, and the limping old keeper, burst +into laughter; but Xerophrastes rising, and shaking +his garment, said, with some warmth, <q>Think not, O +Sabinus, that any sudden start of fear has thus ridiculously +stretched me upon the floor; but attribute the +<pb n="115"/><anchor id="Pg115"/>mischance only to this rude offspring of British earth, +whose unreclaimed natural feelings are still shamefully +affected by natural causes.</q>—<q>Castor and Pollux,</q> +quoth the Centurion,—<q>you take every thing too +seriously, my friend.</q>—<q>I take it not seriously,</q> replied +he, with admirable gravity. <q>My philosophy +forbids me to do so; it has steeled me against externals.</q>—<q>Has +it so, in faith!</q> rejoined the Centurion. <q>I +think some of your equanimity is, in fact, owing to the +trifling circumstance, that you have in reality received +no injury whatever from your tumble. And as to +steeling, let me tell you, I think the iron in the grated +door there is much better placed, than in the bosom of +a philosopher; for, in the door, it serves the purpose of +preventing all harm; but if these animals were once +out, all the mental steel of which you boast would not +save every bone in your body from being cracked in +the twanging of a bow-string.</q>—<q>You speak,</q> replied +Xerophrastes, <q>as if you had embraced the tenets of a +sect not worthy of the lovers of wisdom—You speak as +if the artificial contrivances of human workmen were all +in all. An iron cage may confine wild beasts; but can +cages be made for all those misfortunes to which mankind +are liable, and against which the force of the mind is +their only means of defence? Can you cage the Eumenides, +when they come to avenge a life spent in ignoble +indolence and degrading luxury?</q>—<q>In truth,</q> replied +the Centurion with a smile, <q>I have never seen the +Eumenides except once, and that was in the theatre of +Athens. But Boto, perhaps, has been more fortunate. +Did you ever see the Eumenides, good Boto?</q> <q>No, +master,</q> replied, stupidly, the perplexed Boto, <q>I never +was at the theatre.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="116"/><anchor id="Pg116"/> + +<p> +<q>Ye gods!</q> exclaimed the Stoic, <q>of a surety this +Britain must have been the last spot rescued from the +dominion of Chaos!</q> +</p> + +<p> +But while we were yet contemplating those enormous +animals, and amused with the awkward gestures of Boto, +the trumpets were blown in the Amphitheatre, and no +sooner did the sound of them penetrate into the vaults, +than it was evident, from the bustle which ensued, that +the Emperor had returned to his place. With all speed, +therefore, did we reascend to the upper air, leaving the +gladiators in the act of mustering in their respective +quarters of the gloomy vault; and the feeders not less +busied in preparing their beasts for the expected combat. +Had we not been under the protection of Sabinus, +we should have attempted in vain to regain our places; +but he being an acknowledged and current authority, +known in every department of the Amphitheatre, the +door-keepers, and other functionaries, durst refuse him +nothing; room was made for us where no room appeared; +and, in a word, we shortly found ourselves +once more seated by the side of Rubellia and Sextus. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="12" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="117"/><anchor id="Pg117"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter XII"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter XII"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER XII.</hi></head> + +<p> +The day was by this time considerably advanced; +and, in spite of the awnings spread all over head, the +rays of the sun were so powerful, that the marble +benches felt hot to the touch, wherever they were exposed +to them; and altogether there was such a glare and +fervour throughout the place, that my eyes began to be +weary of gazing; and very gladly would I have retired, +rather than remain to see out the rest of the exhibition. +Nevertheless, there was no appearance of any one having +gone away in weariness; but, on the contrary, the seats, +and even the passages, seemed to be more crowded than +they had been in the anterior part of the morning. +</p> + +<p> +The arena was vacant, when I looked down upon +it; but in a short time, a single old man, who, as +Rubellia told me, had, without doubt, been found guilty +of some atrocious wickedness, was led forth from a +small wicket on the one side, and presently his fetters +being struck off, those that conducted him retired, leaving +him alone upon the sand. The eyes of this malefactor +refused at first to look steadfastly on the objects around +him, and it seemed to me that he had probably been +long confined in some dark place, so grievously did the +dazzling splendour, reflected from the floor and walls, +<pb n="118"/><anchor id="Pg118"/>appear to bewilder and confound him. Nevertheless, +after a brief space, he seemed in some measure to recover +himself, and assumed a posture of resignation, +leaning with one hand against the parapet, as if he +needed support to uphold himself. Pallid and extenuated +were the outlines of the old man’s visage, and his +hair and beard exhibited not a little of the squalidness +attendant on long confinement; yet there was something +in the attitude, and even in the countenance, +which made me harbour the suspicion that he had +not, at some former period, been altogether unacquainted +with the luxuries and refinements of social +life. The beauty, indeed, of the mould in which his +form had originally been cast, might, perhaps, have +been the sole cause of these casual demonstrations of +elegance; yet it was impossible not to regard the man +with greater interest, by reason of the contrast suggested +between what he once perhaps had been, and what he +now was. +</p> + +<p> +A feeling of the same sort seemed to pervade many +more in the assembly; and I heard a continual whispering +among those around me, as if there was a general +anxiety to learn something of the history of the man. +No one, however, appearing to be able to say any thing +concerning this, I kept my eyes fixed upon himself, +awaiting the issue in silence. Judge then, what was +my surprise, when one of the heralds of Trajan, having +commanded that there should be silence in the amphitheatre, +said, <q>Let Tisias of Antioch come forth, and +answer to the things that shall be alleged against him.</q> +To which the old man, that was alone in the arena, +immediately made reply,—<q>Here am I—my name is +<pb n="119"/><anchor id="Pg119"/>Tisias of Antioch.</q>—In vain, however, even after hearing +the well-remembered voice, did I attempt to persuade +myself that the face was such as I had pictured within +myself; for, as to seeing it, I have already told you that +utter darkness prevailed in the dungeon all the time I +was there with him. +</p> + +<p> +Then arose the Prefect of the city, who had his place +immediately under the chair of Cæsar, and said in a +voice, which, although not loud, was heard distinctly +all through the Amphitheatre,—<q>Tisias of Antioch, +being accused of blasphemy and contempt for the Gods, +has been brought hither, either to refute this charge, by +doing homage at the altar of Jupiter Best and Greatest; +or, persisting in his rebellion, to suffer openly the punishment +which the laws have affixed to such perversity. +Let him remain where he is until the Flamens invite +all to join in the sacrifice.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Tisias, hearing these words, stept forth into the +middle of the arena, and folding his arms upon his +breast, stood there composedly, without once lifting up +his eyes, either to the place from which the Prefect had +spoken, or to any other region of the Amphitheatre. +The situation in which he stood was such, that I commanded, +where I sate, a full and distinct view of every +movement of the old man’s countenance, and assuredly +my eyes were in no danger of being directed away from +him. For a few moments there was perfect silence +throughout the assembly, until at length the same +herald made proclamation for the doors to be thrown +open, that the priests of Jupiter might have access. +There was heard forthwith a noise, as of the turning of +some heavy machinery, and a part of the ground-work +<pb n="120"/><anchor id="Pg120"/>of the arena itself appeared to be giving way, right over +against that quarter in which Tisias had his station. +But of this the purpose was soon manifested, when +there arose from underneath into the space thus vacated, +a wooden stage, or platform, covered all over with rich +carpetings, whereof the centre was occupied by a marble +altar, set forth already with all the usual appurtenances +of sacrifice, and surmounted on one side by a gigantic +statue of bronze, in which it was easy to recognize the +features of the great Phidian Jupiter. Neither had the +altar any sooner made its appearance there, and the +sound of the machinery, by which its great weight had +been lifted, ceased to be heard, than even as the herald +had given command, the main gates of the Amphitheatre +were expanded, and thereby a free passage prepared +for the procession of the Flamens. With that, +all those that were present in the Amphitheatre, arose +from their seats and stood up, and a sweet symphony +of lutes and clarions ushered in the sacred band to the +place appointed for them. And, first of all, there +marched a train of fifty beautiful boys, and then an +equal number of very young maidens, all, both boys +and maidens, arrayed in white tunics, and having their +heads crowned with oaken garlands, and bearing in +their hands fresh branches of the oak tree, which, above +all the other trees of the forest, is, as you have heard +and well know, held dear and sacred to Jupiter. Then +these youthful bands were separated, and they arranged +themselves, the boys on the right, and the girls on the +left hand of the altar, some of them standing on the +arena itself, and others on either side, upon the steps of +the platform whereon the altar was fixed; and +beauti<pb n="121"/><anchor id="Pg121"/>ful, indeed, was their array, and comely and guiltless +were their looks; and much modesty was apparent, +both in the downcast eyes and closed lips, with which +some of them stood there to await the issue of their +coming, and in the juvenile admiration wherewith +others of them were regarding the wide and splendid +assemblage around them; insomuch, that I could not +but feel within myself a certain dread and fearfulness, +when I saw the feet of so many tender and innocent +ones placed there upon the same hot and guilty sand, +which had so often drunk the blood of fierce beasts and +cruel malefactors—alas!—which had drunk the blood +of the innocent also—and which was yet to drink +thereof abundantly. +</p> + +<p> +And after them there came in the priests themselves +of Jupiter, arrayed in the white garments of sacrifice, +walking two by two, the oldest and principal of them +coming last. And behind them again, were certain +younger assistants, clothed also in white, who led by a +cord of silk inwrought with threads of silver, a milk-white +steer, without spot or blemish, whose horns were +already gilt, and his broad brows crowned with oak +leaves and roses. And last of all entered the Vestal +Virgins, none of whom had ever before been seen by +me, and they also walked two by two; and no one +could contemplate without veneration the majesty of +their demeanour. With broad fillets were they bound +around the forehead, and deep flowing veils hung down +to their feet, entirely covering their faces and their +hands; nevertheless, their dignity was apparent; and +it was not the less impressive, by reason of the great +mystery in which all things about them appeared to +be enveloped. +</p> + +<pb n="122"/><anchor id="Pg122"/> + +<p> +Imagine, therefore, to yourselves, how magnificent +was the appearance of all things, when youths and +damsels, and priests and vestals, had taken their places, +according to the custom of their sacred observances; +and all that innumerable company of spectators yet +standing up in the amphitheatre, the choral-hymn was +begun, in which every voice there was united, except +only that of Tisias the Christian. Now, it was the soft +low voices of the young maidens that sounded, and then +these would pause, and give place to the clearer and +more piercing notes of the boys that stood on the other +side of the altar; then again the priestesses of Vesta +would break in from afar with their equable harmony; +and anon these in their turn ceasing, the Flamens of +Jupiter would lift up their strong deep chanting, +until, at the appointed signal from him that stood on +the highest step of the altar, with the cup of libation in +his hand, the whole people that were present burst in +and joined in the rushing stream of the burden, <q>Jupiter,—Jupiter, +hear us!—hear us, Father of Gods and +men!</q> while the wine was poured out, gushing red +upon the marble, and the incense flung on high from +fifty censers, rolled its waves of smoke all over the surface +of the arena, and quite up to the gorgeous canopy +of that resounding Amphitheatre. Magnificent, indeed, +was the spectacle, and majestic the music; yet in the +midst of it, how could I take away my eyes from the +pale and solitary old man, by reason of whose presence +alone all these things were so? With calm eyes did he +regard all the pageantry of those imperial rites,—with +closed lips did he stand amidst all the shouting multitudes. +He bowed not his head; he lifted not up his +hand; neither would he bend his knee, when the victim +<pb n="123"/><anchor id="Pg123"/>was slain before the horns of the altar; neither would +he in any thing give semblance of being a partaker in +the worship. +</p> + +<p> +At length the song ceased, and there was a proclamation +again for deep silence; and the Prefect of the city, +addressing himself once more to Tisias, spoke thus:—<q>Impious +and unhappy man, with great clemency have +all things been conducted as concerning thee. When, +after long imprisonment, and innumerable exhortations +in private and in public, thou hadst always rejected +every means of safety, and spurned from thee the pardon +of those in whose hands thy being is placed, yet, +notwithstanding of all thine obstinacy and continual +rebellion, was it determined, that, in the face of all the +people, thou shouldst once more have free grace offered +to thee, provided only thou shouldst, when all the +assembly worshipped, join thy voice with them, and +bow thy head also toward the altar of Jupiter. Nevertheless +all that now hear me shall bear witness, that, +with open and visible contumacy, thou hast rejected +this opportunity also of being reconciled unto the prince +and the empire,—that, when every knee bent, and +every voice was lifted up, thou alone hast stood upright, +and thy lips alone have been closed. If it be so, that, +from some inflicted, rather than voluntary perversion +of mind, thou hast never yet been able to understand +the danger in which thou art placed, know now, that +there remains no hope at all for thee, except for a moment; +and let the strong fear of death open thine eyes, +that thou mayst see where thou art, and for what purpose +thou hast been brought hither. Thou art a born +subject of Rome, and thy life can only be held by thee, +<pb n="124"/><anchor id="Pg124"/>in virtue of obedience to the laws. These are clearer +upon nothing, than the necessity that all men should +acknowledge the deities of Rome; and of good reason, +since, if they be despised, and their authority set at +nought, by what means shall an oath be ratified, or a +pledge given; or how may the head, which counsels +and protects, be assured that the members shall not be +lifted up against it? Let silence remain in the assembly, +and let Tisias of Antioch make his election, whether +he will give obedience, or suffer the penalty of transgression.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Then the Prefect, and all those round about Trajan, +sat down, and there was a deep silence throughout the +lower region, where, for the most part, they of condition +were placed; but when the rabble, that sat above, +beheld the stern and resolute countenance with which +the old man stood there upon the arena, it seemed as if +they were enraged beyond measure, and there arose +among them a fierce uproar, and a shouting of hatred; +and, amidst groans and hisses, there was a cry from innumerable +voices of—<q>Christian! Christian!—Blasphemer! +Blasphemer!—Atheist! Atheist!—A tiger! +A tiger!—Let loose a tiger upon the Christian!</q> +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, the old man preserved unmoved the +steadfastness of his demeanour, and lifting up his eyes +to the place from whence the tumult proceeded, regarded +the ferocious multitude with a visage, not of +anger or of scornfulness, but rather of pity and calmness; +insomuch, that I perceived the nobles and senators +were somewhat ashamed of the outcry, and the Prefect +of the city arose from his place, and beckoned with +his hand, until the people were weary of shouting, and +<pb n="125"/><anchor id="Pg125"/>order was, in some measure, re-established in the Amphitheatre. +</p> + +<p> +Then Tisias, perceiving that silence once more prevailed, +lifted up his hand, and bowed himself before +Trajan, and the great men of authority that were near +to his chair, and said, with a firm clear voice, in the +Roman tongue, <q rend="post: none">My name, O Trajan, is Tisias—the +son of Androboulos. I am a native of Antioch, in +Syria, and have in all things, except only in what pertains +to this cause, observed throughout all the years of +my life the statutes of the empire, as they, by whose +accusation I have been led hither, shall themselves be +constrained to bear witness for me this day. My father +was a Greek of Macedonian extraction, being descended +from one of those that came into Syria beneath the +banners of the great King Seleucus; but he took to wife +a maiden of the Hebrew nation, and in process of time +became a proselyte to the faith of her fathers. Nevertheless, +he lived in trust and honour beneath the +governors appointed by those that were before you in +the empire, and brought up me and all his children to +reverence, in all things that are lawful, the authority +of Cæsar. But as to the faith of the true God, whose +worshippers ye blindly and foolishly call atheists and +blasphemers, from that he neither swerved himself, nor +would permit any of those that were in his household +to depart. Now, when he had been a dweller for some +time in Jerusalem, the great city of the Jews, he began +to examine into those things which were reported publicly +concerning Jesus of Nazareth, who is also called +the Christ, of which things not a few that had been +eye-witnesses were then living in that city. And when +<pb n="126"/><anchor id="Pg126"/>he had been satisfied from their testimony, that those +miracles, of which you have all heard, were in truth +performed in the sight of the people by Jesus, and had +listened unto the words of their teachers, and saw how +they proved that the old prophets of the Hebrews had +foretold those wonderful works, he perceived that Jesus +of Nazareth was indeed the Christ of God, and the great +Deliverer that had been promised to that people, even +from the beginning of their nation. And he believed +on him with all his household; and I also, from a stripling, +have, although unworthy, been a Christian; for +by that name were they first called in Antioch, the city +of my birth.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q rend="post: none">But being brought into trouble by reason of his +religion, which the rulers of the Jews abhorred, my +father departed, after a time, from Jerusalem, and +dwelt with my mother in one of the villages of Palestine, +until his death. Not long after which time, the +Jews rebelled against Cæsar, and the great war began, +which terminated in the overthrow of Jerusalem, and +the utter ruin of their nation. Now, when Vespasian +first came with his army into those regions, I, being +without employment in the place where we had our +habitation, and having, moreover, taken up a great, and +perhaps a sinful, wrath against the Jews, on account of +the sufferings which my father had undergone among +them, and of the evils which, at their hands, our whole +household had sustained, joined myself to one of the +bands of Syrian auxiliaries; and although my mother +entreated me, could not be persuaded to refrain from +following the camp of Cæsar with them. Of which +thing it has often since then repented me, and in which, +<pb n="127"/><anchor id="Pg127"/>it may be, I still hold myself not to have done altogether +as was right; for if the Jews had offended Cæsar, it +was, indeed, a reasonable thing that Cæsar should visit +them with his vengeance; but, peradventure, it behoved +not any of them that were descended from the fathers +of that people, to take part in the warfare. Nevertheless, +being then young, and, as I have said, irritated by +the sense of domestic injuries, I scrupled not to fulfil +in all things the duty of a soldier, and followed the +eagles of Vespasian and his son, even to the day when +the lines were drawn around the Holy City; and it +was manifest, that the war could have no end, but +in the eternal overthrow of the power of the Jews. +Neither did the length of the siege weary me, or produce +within me any sort of unwillingness; but, on the +contrary, so long as the city was beleaguered, I remained +with the band in which I had numbered myself, and +did in all labours such service as my strength would +permit. Even among the soldiers that have guarded +my prison, since I was led into Rome for the sake of +that accusation which has been brought against me in +the matter of my belief,—even among them, I have +seen the faces of some that were my comrades in that +fierce war, and that long beleaguerment, who also, if they +be commanded, will not refuse to bear testimony before +you, that all these things are true, even as I have said, +and that I was a faithful soldier, both of Vespasian and +of Titus, unto the last. Neither, indeed, did I lay down +arms immediately when Jerusalem had been sacked, +and the Temple burnt, according to the prediction of +Christ, but went with Cæsar along the sea-coast, and +was present with him all through the journeyings he +<pb n="128"/><anchor id="Pg128"/>made in Egypt, even to the day when he made his +great festival at Alexandria, and crowned the Ox Apis +with his own hands, in the presence of all that people. +On which day it was, that, for the first time, I also was +accused of being a Christian, and at the command of +Titus himself, was interrogated by one of the rulers of +the army.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Now with shame and confusion of face must I +acknowledge, that on that day I, from desire of life, +forgot myself utterly, and being deserted of all steadfastness, +went up to the altar in presence of my judge, +and offered gifts there, whereon I was declared free +of all blame; and even received honour and commendation +thereafter from them, on account of my +services in the war. But, from that day, my spirit +sunk within me, and I knew not what to do; I grew +weary of all things, and determined to leave the band +in which I was serving, that I might seek out, if it +were possible, the habitation of my mother, and make +atonement in secret for the wickedness of which I, unhappy +and fearful man, had been guilty at Alexandria. +Being absolved, therefore, from my oath of service, on +account of the length of time I had remained with the +army, I departed from Egypt, and, after a time, found +out my mother where she was dwelling in the mountainous +country of Palestine, to the north of Jerusalem. +In going thither, however, I was constrained to pass by +the place where I had so long lain in your camp, O +Romans! and to look with my own eyes on the sorrowful +desolation of that ancient city, where so many +holy prophets of the Hebrews had ministered, and so +many great kings reigned in the days of the old time, +<pb n="129"/><anchor id="Pg129"/>when their nation flourished, and was chosen and favoured +of the Almighty. And it was then, indeed, that +I first began to repent me of having been present in the +host of Titus, and of having had a part in that terrible +destruction; to which, when I added the recollection +of my own miserable timorousness at Alexandria, great +was my perplexity, and I fled across the mountains +with much speed, seeking in vain to fly from the stings +and unceasing torment of my own meditations, which +nevertheless continued ever more and more to sink into +my spirit; insomuch, that when I came into the place +where my mother was dwelling, scarcely could she recognize +me, wasted and worn as I was with that perpetual +misery of shame and repentance. Without reproaches, +however, and indeed with great kindness, did she receive +me into her habitation, even although, as I have +said, she had been much offended with me because of +my going up to the beleaguerment of the city of her +fathers. But when I, being humbled, made confession +to her and her household, and to all the faithful that +were in that place, of the grievous sin whereof I had +been guilty in Egypt, both she and all the rest of them +busied themselves continually to comfort me, and to +assure me that there was yet hope, if my repentance +were sincere, and my resolution immovable never again +to yield myself to any similar temptation. One of them +also, that had been set apart to minister in holy +things among the scattered believers that dwelt up +and down in that region, came not many days after +to the same place, and having publicly heard my confession, +admitted me once more to be a partaker with +them in the mysteries of the sanctuary. From which +<pb n="130"/><anchor id="Pg130"/>day, O Trajan! I have never again been so far deserted +of myself, as to fall back into that miserable +error, or by any cowardly word of mine, to deny the +faith that is in me, which is the faith of the True +God that made heaven and earth, and of his Son Jesus +Christ, whom he sent into the world to teach loving-kindness, +and long-suffering, and patience, among all +kindreds, and tongues, and nations of mankind; and to +make expiation, by the accursed death of the cross, for +the evil and the wickedness that is in the world. From +which faith, should I now depart, out of terror for that +which, by your command, may befal me in this place, +of a surety no comfort could ever again come to me in +my mind, for I should be bowed down, and utterly +miserable, out of grief and shame; which as you yourself, +O Cæsar, will admit and acknowledge, is far worse +than death itself, or any evil which the body of man +can sustain. Neither could I have any hope of being +reconciled unto the True God, whom I should have so, +once and again, denied; insomuch, that neither in life +nor in death should I be able to have any happiness;—for +in life, what happiness is there to him that is +ashamed of himself?—and, in departing from life, what +comfort can be given to him, that, knowing the truth, +hath openly abjured the truth for the sake of a few, at +the utmost, and these most miserable and unhappy +years? I am an old man, and my near kindred and +my friends are already dead, so that poor after all, and +not worthy to be mentioned, is the sacrifice on which I +have this day resolved. And as for you, O Romans, +should I now make shipwreck of my faith, and tell a +lie to save my life before you, with what contempt +<pb n="131"/><anchor id="Pg131"/>would yourselves be constrained forthwith to look upon +me? Whosoever is wise among you, according to the +philosophy of the earth, would utterly despise me; and +whosoever is brave and steadfast of spirit, would think +foul scorn that a soldier of Titus should be so much +afraid to die. Therefore, O Trajan, am I resolved to +endure all things rather than sacrifice to your gods; and +if such be your will, I will not refuse to die for this +cause, to which witness has already been borne in +Rome by the blood of holy Apostles, and other noble +martyrs of Christ.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The old man, having said these words, bowed himself +once more reverently before Trajan, and then folding his +arms in his cloak, appeared to await whatever might be +appointed. Steadfastly did I look upon his face at that +moment, to see whether it might exhibit no trace of +wavering, or at least, if pride barred irresolution, +whether, nevertheless, there might not appear some +token of natural sorrow, and human unwillingness to +die; yet in vain did I scrutinize and seek for any such +symptoms of spiritual weakness; for although it was +visible that, with the exertion of so long standing +and speaking, to say nothing of thought and anxiety, +his bodily strength was much spent, still his eye preserved +firmness, and his brow remained serene; and +the parched lips of the old man did not once betray the +least shadow of trembling. Methinks I see him even +now, as he then stood—his deep calm eyes sometimes +turned upwards to Trajan, but for the most part bent +to the ground, beneath those gray brows of his, whose +dark shade rested upon his large solemn eyelids. Upon +his broad front, as he stooped, no hair appeared, but +<pb n="132"/><anchor id="Pg132"/>long hoary ringlets, clustered down on either side, +mingling with the venerable, although dishevelled beard, +that lay upon his bosom. Heroic meekness was enthroned +visibly upon all his lineaments, and a murmur +began to run through the assembly, as if—even in a +Christian—it were not possible to contemplate such +things without admiration. +</p> + +<p> +But as they afterwards related to me—for I myself +was not indeed sufficiently attentive to it—Trajan, who +had as yet, during all the occurrences of the day, preserved +unmoved the majestic serenity of his countenance, +when he observed this last movement in the spirit of +the assembly, began all at once to be very indignant, +that such things should occur in such a place, in consequence +of the appearance merely, and the language, of +a culprit and a Christian. I confess it, that I was too +much occupied with gazing on Tisias, to have any leisure +for remarking the particulars of the deportment of any +other person present—no, not even of Cæsar; yet such +had been the effect produced on me by the history which +the old man delivered of himself, that I indeed was not +prepared at the moment to find the strong arm of power +directed ruthlessly, and immediately against him. At +least, said I to myself, the Prince will institute an inquiry +among all those now present in the capital, who are likely +to be able either to contradict essentially, or to confirm, +the narrative in which this man has thought fit to embody +his only defence. Many years indeed have elapsed +since the walls of Jerusalem were shattered by the engines +of Rome, and the golden gate of its antique temple refused +to be any protection against the furious soldiery of +Titus. Yet surely not a few of such as were present in +<pb n="133"/><anchor id="Pg133"/>that proud host, must be still in life; yea, not a few of +them must be now present in the capital of the world. +The old spearman, with whom I talked in the guard-room, +and beside the ramparts underneath which this +Christian was imprisoned, he surely cannot be the only +witness that remains to give testimony. He at least +there is, and we shall forthwith have him at least confronted +with Tisias. +</p> + +<p> +Such were my thoughts within me; judge, therefore, +what was my astonishment when I heard the +trumpet sound, and perceived that its note, without +any word being spoken, was at once received as a sufficient +warning by the priests and the vestals, and the +youths and the damsels, and all those that had in +any way been connected with the service of the altar, +to retire from the place whereon they stood, and leave +the old man there alone, to await the issue of his +destiny. Immediately on the signal being given by +the trumpet, did all these begin to move away; but +although in silence they had at first marched into the +Amphitheatre, they did not retire from it in silence. +Another hymn, on the contrary, in which also, as it +seemed, different parts were allotted for each different +order of singers, was begun to be sung by them even +before they had moved from the arena; and after the +last of their procession had disappeared behind the wide +folding-doors of the Amphitheatre, we still heard their +voices chanting solemnly until they had entered the +great Temple of Isis and Serapis, which, as I have +already said, stands over against it, on the brink of the +Esquiline. And while all were yet listening to their +singing, and to the harmony of lutes and other +sweet-<pb n="134"/><anchor id="Pg134"/>sounding instruments that accompanied their voices, +the slaves and other attendants removed every thing +from the arena, except only the altar and statue of Jupiter, +which were still left where they had been placed; +insomuch, that ere they had made an end of singing, +and we of listening, the old man was left alone there as +at the beginning, when he first came forth. +</p> + +<p> +But just when deep silence once more prevailed, and +expectation was most intense concerning what should +be at length commanded by Trajan, it fell out so, that +a little bald ape escaped through the bars of one of the +grated doors, which were along the boundary-wall of +the arena, and leaping forth upon the sand, began to +skip up and down, challenging, by all manner of foolish +gestures, the attention of those that sate over against it, +leaning down from the parapet. And immediately +certain painted courtezans, that were sitting not far +from thence, with gilded breasts and bright-coloured +garlands, and all other gorgeous trappings of the degradation +of harlotry, began to throw down apples and +nuts to the obscene creature, and to testify much delight +in the grimaces with which it received them, hopping +to and fro, and casting them away, and then catching +them up again, with continual gibbering and prating; +and no sooner did the rabble that were above perceive +these things, than they all, as with one consent, began +to applaud; so that the vaulted vomitories and wide +arches of entrance, and all the marble walls, re-echoed +with every wild sound of carelessness and merriment. +While, in the meantime, the African feeders and naked +gladiators, and all those hangers-on of the Amphitheatre, +whom we had seen in the dark places below, hearing +<pb n="135"/><anchor id="Pg135"/>now the sounds that had arisen among the assembly, +began to shew themselves in crowds from behind the +same grated doors through one of which the monkey +had escaped, and to partake in the mirth of the spectators, +and to whistle upon the creature, and to excite it +to new caperings, by their outcries and jeerings. It +seemed as if the minds of all present were entirely occupied +with the pranks of this brute; and that almost +it was forgotten amidst the tumult, not only for what +purpose all that solemn and stately pageantry had just +been exhibited before them; but even that Tisias was +still standing there upon the same arena. +</p> + +<p> +For myself, who had never before looked upon any +creature of this disgusting tribe, and had gathered +only some general notion of its appearance from the +treatises of the physiologists and the narratives of travellers,—I +could not, indeed, refuse to contemplate at +first its motions with some curiosity; but I knew not, +after the scene had lasted for a little space, whether to +be more humbled within myself by the monkey’s filthy +mimickings of the form and attitudes of mankind, or +by the display of brutish heartlessness, which burst +forth from all that countless multitude, while gazing +on that spectacle of humiliation. +</p> + +<p> +But it was not until my eye fell again on Tisias, who +stood all this time solitary and silent amidst the hub-bub, +that my sorrow and indignation were the greatest. +There stood the old man even as before, with his arms +folded in his gown, and his eyes resting on the sand before +him, pale, calm, and unmoved in his meekness, even as +if his ears had not once received any sound of all the +shoutings and the joyous laughters of that unpitying +<pb n="136"/><anchor id="Pg136"/>rabble, that had come there to behold him die. Once, +indeed—it was but once—I thought I could perceive that +a slight emotion of contempt wreathed for an instant his +thin and bloodless lips; but it seemed as if that were +but the involuntary and momentary passing over him of +one proud thought, which he cast from him immediately, +as a thing unworthy of the resolute mind of his integrity, +choosing rather to array himself in the divine armour +of patience, than to oppose, with any weapon of human +passion, the insults heaped upon his head by the cruel +callousness of that degenerate congregation of men. +And, whether it were that the sight of all this did not +affect me alone with such reflections, or only that they +in authority were afraid too much of the day might be +occupied with what formed so unseemly an addition +to the ordained business of the assembly, while the +uproar of mirth was yet at its height, certain of the +lictors that were about the consular chairs leapt down +into the arena, and beat the monkey back again among +the feeders, and other base hirelings, that stood behind +the grated doors of which I have spoken. Whereupon +there was at once an end of the tumult, and +the lictors having reascended to their places, the eyes +of all began once more to fix themselves upon the +Christian. +</p> + +<p> +And he also, when he perceived that it was so, and +was sensible of the silence that once more prevailed, it +seemed as if he, too, were aware that at last his appointed +hour had come, and that he must needs prepare himself +in good earnest for the abiding of the issue. For, instead +of continuing steadfast in his place, as he had done +during all the time he had as yet been exposed there, +<pb n="137"/><anchor id="Pg137"/>it appeared as if now at length, being swallowed up in +the contemplation of the approaching fate, he had quite +forgotten all the rules he had laid down to himself concerning +his behaviour. Not that he now lost remembrance +of the courage which hitherto he had manifested, +or even, that any the least symptom of changeableness +was made visible upon his countenance. But it seemed +to me, of a truth, that of such things as he had determined +upon within himself before he came thither, +touching the mere external demeanour of his bodily +frame, the memory now, in this final moment of expectation, +had somewhat passed away; for Tisias stood +still no longer on the centre of the arena; but retaining +his arms folded as they had been, and his eyes fixed +upon the sand, he began to pace rapidly to and fro, +traversing the open space whereon he alone now was, +from side to side, without once looking up, or exhibiting +any token that he was conscious of the presence of any +man. By and by, nevertheless, in the deeper knittings +of his brows, and in the closer pressure of his extenuated +lips, and then again in the quivering of the nerves and +muscles upon the arms and legs of the old man, as he +moved before us, it was testified how keenly the spirit +was at work within; the strong soul wrestling, it may +be, with some last stirring temptations of the flesh, and +the mind itself not altogether refusing to betray its +sympathy with the natural shudderings of the body. +But the moment that the herald of Trajan commanded +attention in the assembly, and that the Prefect of the +city began again to prepare himself for speaking, that +moment did the old man appear to return at once again +entirely to himself; and he fixed his eyes upon the +<pb n="138"/><anchor id="Pg138"/>Prefect with even the same steadfastness as when he +made his oration to Cæsar. +</p> + +<p> +<q>By all the gods,</q> whispered Sabinus at that moment, +<q>this is a true soldier of Vespasian and Titus. He will +die for this superstition with the constancy of a Roman.</q>—<q>With +all the constancy of a philosopher, say rather,</q> +quoth Xerophrastes, who had overheard his whisper—<q>yea, +with all the constancy of a philosopher. Of a +surety, there must be some lessons of nobility in this +faith of the Jews.</q>—<q>Now, speak not, but look at the +old man,</q> interrupted Rubellia; <q>the signal is given +for the executioner.</q> +</p> + +<p> +And I looked, and saw that the Prefect was standing +up in his place, immediately below the chair of Trajan, +and immediately he began to speak; and he said, first +looking towards the people,—<q>Let there be silence, +and let no man stir in this place until this matter be +ended.</q> And then addressing himself, as it seemed, to +Tisias,—<q>With all patience,</q> proceeded he, <q>have +the words which this man chose to utter in his defence, +been listened to; but it must be manifest to all men, +that they contain no shadow of apology, but rather +afford the strongest confirmation of all that had before +been alleged. Instead of departing from his error, or +offering any extenuation of its magnitude, his words +have tended only to shew what was already well known +to all that have had any dealings with the adherents of +this blasphemous sect; that their obstinacy is as great +as their atheism is perverse; and that no clemency can, +without blame, be extended to their wilfulness, and +to the scorn wherewith they are resolved to regard all +things sacred. Nevertheless, inquiry has been made, +<pb n="139"/><anchor id="Pg139"/>and confirmation has been given, by those who were +present in the wars of the Divine Titus, as to that +which this man hath said concerning his own service +throughout the glorious campaign of Palestine, and the +siege of the city of the Jews. For which service, it +hath seemed right unto Cæsar, Ever-Merciful, that no +circumstance of needless shame be added to the death +by which this Christian must now expiate before all +them who have seen his contempt of the sacrifice of +Jupiter, and heard his words of blasphemy against all +the gods, the guilt of which, it is manifest to all, he +hath been justly and necessarily accused. Let those, +therefore, who had been commanded to bring forth a +tiger, depart now with their beast, and let this man be +beheaded before the Altar of Jupiter; after which, for +this day, the assembly will disperse; for, until the +morrow, the spectacle of the wild animals, which the +Prince hath prepared, must be deferred.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Prefect made his obeisance again to Cæsar, and +sate down in his place, and immediately one of the doors +of the arena was flung open, and there entered some +slaves, bearing a wooden block upon their shoulders, +behind whom followed also certain ill-favoured blacks, +out of the company of African gladiators, one of whom +carried bare in his hand a long and heavy sword, the +surface of which glittered brightly as he moved, as if +newly sharpened and burnished for the occasion. Seeing +all which fatal preparations, Tisias immediately flung +aside the long cloak in which hitherto his arms and all +his body had been wrapped; and after regarding those +that had come in for a moment with a steadfast eye, he +turned himself to the place where the Prefect was sitting, +<pb n="140"/><anchor id="Pg140"/>as if he had yet one word to say before he should submit +himself to the sword; whereupon the Prefect said,—<q>If +the prisoner has yet any thing to offer, it is not too +late for mercy—Let him speak.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I have nothing more to offer, O Romans!</q> answered +the old man, <q>as concerning that of which I +have spoken. But since already some favour has been +extended to me by reason of my services in the army of +Cæsar, perhaps so neither will this be refused, that my +body may be given to such as shall ask for it, that it +may be treated without indignity after my soul is released.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>It is granted,</q> replied the Prefect.—<q>Is there any +thing more?</q> +</p> + +<p> +The old man was silent. +</p> + +<p> +With that, the block being already fixed upon the +sand immediately in front of the Altar of Jupiter, one +of the Africans moved towards Tisias, as if to conduct +him to the place where it behoved him to kneel; but +he, observing what was his intention, forthwith prevented +him, and walked of himself steadily close up to +him in whose hand the sword was unsheathed. Being +come thither, he immediately took his station over +against the block, and having for a moment placed his +hand upon his eyes, and moved his lips, as it seemed, +in fervent supplication, dropped his one knee on the +ground, and stretched forth his neck towards the block; +but suddenly, after he had done so, he sprung again +upon his feet, and began to gaze with a keen eye all +around the assembly, as if he were in search of some +one to whom he had something yet to say. In vain, +however, as it appeared, did he make this endeavour; +<pb n="141"/><anchor id="Pg141"/>for after a little space, he shook his head despairingly, +and gave over the steadfastness of his look. Nevertheless, +he lifted up his voice, and, surveying once more +the whole face of the Amphitheatre round about, from +side to side, said audibly,—<q>There is one here who +made last night a promise to me in my dungeon. I +cannot see him where he is; but I conjure him to take +good heed, and execute, as he is a man and a Roman, +all those things which he said to me he would do.</q> +Now, when I heard him say so, I well knew within +myself that it was for me only his eye had been searching, +and half did I arise from my seat, that he might see I +was there, and observe my resolution to keep the faith +I had plighted voluntarily to him in his prison. But +Sabinus, having watched my earnestness in contemplating +Tisias, and comprehending something of that +which was meant, held me firm upon the bench, whispering, +<q>As you regard me, Valerius, and as you regard +your own safety, be still.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Being thus constrained, I neither rose up, nor made +any attempt to attract the attention of Tisias—for +which forbearance, I confess to you, I have since that +day undergone the visitation of not a few bitter thoughts—but +remained steadily in my place, while the old +man once more addressed himself to kneel down upon +the block that was before him. Calmly now at length +did he kneel, and with much composure did he place +himself. Yet, before the gladiator was ready to strike, +he lifted his head once again, and gazed upwards for a +moment towards heaven, with such a countenance of +faith and hope, that there went through all the assembly +a murmur, as it were, and a stirring breath of +admira<pb n="142"/><anchor id="Pg142"/>tion. Then bowed he for the last time his gray hairs, +and almost before he had rested his neck upon the tree, +the strong sword of the African smote with merciful +fierceness, and the headless trunk falling backwards +upon the sand, the blood spouted forth in a gushing +stream, and sprinkled all over with red drops the base +of the statue of Jupiter Capitolinus, and the surface of +the marble altar, whereupon the sacrifice of the Flamens +had been offered. +</p> + +<p> +The executioner having made an end of his duty, +wiped his sword from the blood of the Christian, and +advancing towards the seats of the magistrates, claimed +the largess that was due to him,—which when he had +received, as is the custom, he and all his attendants +withdrew immediately from the arena; the Emperor, +at the same moment, and the Consulars, and all they +that were about him, departing also from the assembly; +and the whole Amphitheatre speedily being filled with +the clamours of an universal upbreaking and dispersion. +</p> + +</div> +</div><div type="book" n="2"> +<!--<index index="toc" level1="Book II"/>--> +<index index="pdf" level1="Book II"/> +<div type="chapter" n="1" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="143"/><anchor id="Pg143"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Book II. Chapter I"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter I"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">BOOK II. CHAPTER I.</hi></head> + +<p> +I saw, my friends, that you listened with not less of +indignation, than of astonishment, to the account which +I yesterday gave you of a day spent in the Amphitheatre +of Vespasian. Neither did I expect that it +should be otherwise with young persons of ingenuous +minds, whose feelings have never been hardened by any +experience of the life of Rome. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, when you reflect a little more upon the +matter, I think you will abate something of the wonder +you manifested on hearing of the fondness of the Roman +people for some of those cruel, ruthful spectacles. You +will admit, at least, that there is a certain natural principle, +on an exaggerated and morbid obedience to which, +rather than on any total and absolute departure from the +laws of our mind, much of that which excited so much of +your astonishment and indignation also may be supposed +to depend. In and by myself, I maintain it must always +be a most interesting thing for a man to witness, in +whatever shape, the last moments of any human creature. +I mean not those merely corporeal struggles, in +which there must always be every thing to revolt, and +<pb n="144"/><anchor id="Pg144"/>nothing to interest, because in them, it is evident, the +nobler part of our nature can have no share—the soul +being already swallowed up, and its divinity absorbed +in the intense convulsions of animal suffering. These +are things on which no eyes can gaze willingly, without +indicating degradation of spirit. But before that curtain +falls, beyond which every one must shudder to +penetrate, there is a last terrible act of the real tragedy, +which must ever have power to fix the eyes with an +earnestness not the less deep, because of its being preceded +by some struggles of reluctance. We live in a +state in which, however we may clothe ourselves in the +armour of levity, or with the more effectual armour of +occupation, it is impossible that the one fearful idea of +dissolution should not ever and anon come to scare us +with its terrors. We feel that we are walking over a +soil, on the most level and the most rugged parts of +which it is equally possible we may meet with the dark +pit wherein it is our destiny to stumble. How sudden, +or how gradual soever the inevitable fall may be, we +well know we shall have little enough space to prepare +ourselves for the last leap, when we shall be fairly on +the declivity; and I maintain, once more, that it is a +rational, no less than a natural, curiosity, which leads +us to seek to supply, in some measure, this necessary +defect, and to gather, if possible, from witnessing the +last moments of others, some hints which may be of +use to us when our own dark hour shall come. We see +a being standing on the edge of a precipice, to which the +only thing we know certainly, is, that we ourselves +shall one day be brought; and shall it be possible to feel +no curiosity concerning the manner in which he +con<pb n="145"/><anchor id="Pg145"/>ducts himself on that giddy brink? That which is denied +to us in our own person, may, in part, be supplied in +his; and the eyes which dwell upon his features, while +they are filled with the overwhelming expectation of +near approaching death, make the closest approximation +of which our nature admits to penetrating the actual +mysteries of the unseen region. For myself, both wiser +and better did I come away from all that mournful +spectacle. But perhaps I am joining together things +which, after all, had no necessary connection, when I +ascribe to my contemplation of the death of Tisias, and +the other cruel sights which, as it seemed, were regarded +with indifference by the great multitudes around me, +so much of the change which, about this period, my +own spirit underwent. +</p> + +<p> +The slumbers which followed that busy day of novelties +and terrors, were long and heavy; for utterly worn +out were both mind and body, and youth hastened to +repair the waste of its energies, by drinking deeply at +the great fountain of natural refreshment. Nevertheless, +although the hand of sleep had lain steadily upon +me, when I awoke in the already-confirmed light of +morning, I found myself yet filled with a confused and +tremulous sense of excitation, as if the spirit had disdained +to be idle after having received so much food for +activity, and Fancy had still been garnishing the passive +sphere of the night with aerial representations of +all the gorgeous and solemn realities of the by-past day. +I lay there ruminating amidst the dispersing shadows +of the mysterious world of dreams, and scarcely as yet +aware that a whole night had passed since I had returned +from the Amphitheatre, when I was at length roused to +<pb n="146"/><anchor id="Pg146"/>a sudden and complete recollection of all things by the +entrance of Boto. +</p> + +<p> +<q>My dear master,</q> said he, making a sort of start +after he had come in, <q>I was afraid you would be angry +with me for not coming to you sooner, but now I perceive +you have been as lazy as the rest of us. Why, +surely, you are not aware what time of day it is! What +would my dear old lady over the water say, if she heard +of my young master lying in bed till within three hours +of noon? Oh, what a place is this you have brought me +to! Why, when I awake in the morning, the first thought +that comes into my head always is, What, Boto, and is it +really possible that all that wide roaring sea lies between +you and the green banks of quiet Anton? Is it truth, +good truth, and neither dream nor witching, that you, +<hi rend="italic">Boto</hi>, are in <hi rend="italic">Rome</hi>? But I sometimes have to jump up, +and take a look out of the window before I am quite convinced; +and then, to be sure, I know well enough that +I, who used always to dream about driving cattle to +Venta, and perhaps kissing a Brigian lass by the way, +could never dream of so many fine things unless I were +really among them. Good heavens! what a heap of +stories I shall have to tell, when we get safe back to +Old Britain!</q>—<q>Indeed, Boto,</q> said I, <q>you will be +quite a travelled man. Be sure you do not give yourself +too many airs on the occasion.</q>—<q>Travelled man, +in faith,</q> replied the clown. <q>I should like to know, +who it is that will be able to hold up his head with me, +when I am once fairly back again? Oh, how the old +smith will be humbled! He thought himself such a +mighty person, because my old master, your father, had +taken him with him as far as Camolodunum, and how +<pb n="147"/><anchor id="Pg147"/>he used to brag of what he had seen there; but now, I +trow, Master Pernorix will be fain to talk quietly about +his journeys.—O Rome, Rome! what fine things shall +I have to tell them all about Rome,—and the lions, +and the monkeys, and Cæsar, and the elephants, and +the fighting men, and the Christian, and all the wonderful +sights we saw yesterday. But the worst of it +is, that nobody will ever be able to believe one half +of what I shall tell them.—And when does my dear +Master Valerius think we shall be returning to my old +lady, and all the rest of them in Britain?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Of a truth, good Boto,</q> said I, <q>that is more than I +can pretend to give you any notion of; but I dare say, +you shall have both time and opportunity to pick up a few +more marvels still before we go. In the meantime, you +are comfortable, I hope, in your quarters, and Dromo +takes good heed of you.</q>—<q>Dromo,</q> quoth he, looking +as arch as his massive features would admit of,—<q>Dromo, +indeed!—If I had nobody to trust to but +him, I should be very ill off. Dromo is a great man; +the young lord of the house has him up in his chamber +every day to talk with him by himself; and when he +comes down again, or returns from any of the errands +he is sent out upon, there is no bearing with him in +the court-yard, where we are all huddled together. As +for the overseer, old Sarcalus, the freed-man, he has +quite given him up. Nobody dare speak about whipping +him; he looks upon himself as almost as important +a person as his master, I believe, if the truth were known; +and yet I should not complain, for, after all, it was +Dromo that carried me yesterday to the Amphitheatre.</q>—<q>Ay, +that was very kind of Dromo—I should have +<pb n="148"/><anchor id="Pg148"/>thought of it myself. And did he not see that you got +your supper snugly, when you came back?</q>—<q>Ah! +now, master, don’t make them whip me—I see they +have told you all.</q>—<q>All!</q> said I—<q>I do assure you +they have told me nothing about you; but come, speak +out. It must be something very bad that would make +me think of having you whipt. You have only been +three days in Rome—I shall make allowance for a few +vagaries, provided they be not very extravagant.</q>—<q>Well, +then, Master Caius,</q> quoth he, <q>since they +have told you nothing beforehand, and you seem inclined +to be so good-natured with me, I shall e’en tell you all +myself, and I hope you won’t think me, after all, very +much to blame.</q>—<q>Speak out, my honest Boto, and +remember there is Dromo also to be examined, in case +you keep any thing back from me.</q>—<q>Ah! master, +but Dromo would not be so easily caught as poor Boto. +Dromo is a cunning man, and a close; and besides, they +say he was born in a city they call Crete, and the people +of that place can’t speak a word of truth, even although +they were willing. Do not think any thing at all about +Dromo; but trust entirely to your own poor Boto, and +he will tell you every thing. Dromo is a sad dog.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I know not what more he might have proceeded to +say concerning Dromo, had not that crafty Cretan, who, +without question, had been listening all the while behind +the door, just at that moment glided in on very +delicate tiptoe, and coming close up behind the British +slave, as he stood in the act of haranguing me, smote him +a smart fillip upon the cheek with the back of his fingers, +mimicking, at the same time, the outlandish accent +of the man, and repeating after him into his tinkling +<pb n="149"/><anchor id="Pg149"/>ears, the words, <hi rend="italic">Dromo is a sad dog—Dromo is a cunning +man, and a close—Dromo would not be so easily caught as +poor Boto</hi>.—<q>Ha, ha! Master Valerius,</q> then said he +to me, <q>and so you would really take the trouble to +ask questions of this worthy man, when you had it in +your power to send for me? I thought it had not been +for nothing that three persons I could name entered +upon a certain alliance—but ’tis all one to the Cretan.—Both +Sextus, and you, may manage your own affairs +for yourselves, if such be your pleasure.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I knew not on this whether to be more amazed with +the impudence of the Cretan, or the confusion of poor +Boto, who stood rubbing his cheek with a strangely +mingled aspect of sheepishness and sulkiness; but Dromo +soon put an end to the affair, by turning round with a +face of admirably feigned astonishment to my Briton, +and saying, <q>Good heavens! Boto, are you still there? +Do you not perceive that your master and I have something +to say to each other in private? Begone, my +good man—shall I never be able to render you susceptible +of the smallest polish?</q> +</p> + +<p> +These last words being accompanied with a gentle +push on the back, soon expelled poor Boto, who, nevertheless, +did not depart without casting towards me a +look of woful appeal over his shoulder. But I perceiving +plainly, in the midst of all his frolicsome behaviour, +that Dromo had really something to say to me; +and suspecting, of course, that the interest of Sextus +might be concerned in what he had to say, suffered my +slave to withdraw in good earnest. Dromo, after the +door was shut, laid his finger upon his lip, and stood +still for a moment in an attitude of close attention; but +<pb n="150"/><anchor id="Pg150"/>the heavy heels of the reluctant Briton were heard with +great distinctness, lumbering along the marble floor of +the gallery; so, being satisfied that there was no eavesdropping +in the case, the varlet seated himself forthwith +in a posture of great familiarity on the nether end of +my couch, and, to judge from the expression of his +countenance, seemed evidently to be preparing himself +for a disclosure of some importance. At length, after +not a few winks of much intelligence, it was thus he +began:—<q>You may hear Boto’s story, sir, at any time +you please, and I dare say it will amuse you; but, in +the meantime, I must really have you attend to me, +for, without jesting, things are by no means in so fair +a train as I had thought for my young master; and if +something effectual be not speedily discovered, I am +really at a loss to think how we shall be able to get out +of our difficulties, in such a manner as may be either +satisfactory to him, or creditable to my management. +But you had better get up and dress yourself, and while +you are doing so, I will tell you every thing.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I did as he bade me, and then the Cretan proceeded:—<q>As +I was coming out of the Amphitheatre yesterday, +I happened to find myself rubbing shoulders with +a certain old fat Calabrian, whom I had seen before +about Rubellia’s house in the Suburra, and thinking +that no harm could possibly come of being civil to him, +I began immediately to ask his opinion of the spectacles. +I wish you had been there to see how much +he was delighted with the attention I paid him, and +how he plumed himself on being admitted to talk on +such subjects with such a person as me; for the man +himself is but an ignorant fellow, and seems never to +<pb n="151"/><anchor id="Pg151"/>have kept company but with the grooms and hinds. +From less to more, we began to be the greatest friends +in the world; and by the time we got to the Arch, it +was evident that we could not possibly part, without +having a cup together to cement the acquaintance. +Well, we were just about to dive into one of the wine-cellars +there, below the gate-way, when I saw your +friend Boto standing by himself in the middle of the +street, apparently quite a-gaze and bewildered, and not +able to form the smallest guess which way he ought to +take in order to reach home; and being a good-natured +fellow, in spite of all that has been said, I immediately +shouted out his name till he was compelled to hear me, +and then beckoned to him to come along with us, which +indeed he did without much coaxing.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well, Dromo,</q> said I, <q>and so all your great news +is, that you have been leading my Briton into one of +your debauches? In truth, I think you need not have +made such an affectation of mystery withal.</q>—<q>Stop +now,</q> quoth he, cutting me short; <q>if the slave be too +slow, I am sure the master’s quickness will make up +for it.—Hear me out before you begin commenting; +such interruptions would bring the Stagyrite himself +to a stand. We were soon, all three of us, seated in +one of those snug little places, which if you have not +yet seen, you are ignorant of the most comfortable sight +within all the four walls of Rome,—a quiet cleanly +little place,—three good hassocks upon the floor, a +handful of sausages, a plate of dried fish as broad as the +shield of Ajax, and a good old fashioned round-bellied +jolly jug of Surrentine in the midst of us. I dare say, +there were a hundred besides employed in the same +<pb n="152"/><anchor id="Pg152"/>way in the house; but we shut the door, and were as +private as behind the altar of Vesta.</q>—<q>A tempting +scene, Dromo; and what use did you make of your +privacy?</q>—<q>All in good time, Master Valerius; you +would have the apple before the egg. We had scarcely +emptied our first jug, ere the conversation between the +Calabrian and me took a turn that was not quite unnatural; +for slaves, however little you may trust them, +will always be smelling out something of the truth; +and you may be sure, all this visiting, and feasting, and +riding about in chariots, and sitting together at the +Amphitheatre, has not been going on, without causing +a good deal of talk both in this house and the rich +widow’s. The courtship was of course the subject of +our conversation, and I, pretending to know nothing of +it myself, except from the common report of the slaves +about our house, affected to consider it as highly probable, +that the fat Calabrian might have had much +better opportunities than mine of being informed how +the affair really stood.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>And did he really seem to have any knowledge +about it?</q> said I.—<q>Not much—not much; but still +the man did tell me something that I think may turn +out to be well worth the knowing. <q>I am sure,</q> said I, +(by this time Boto was fast asleep,)—<q>I am sure, if +Rubellia won’t have my young master, it won’t be for +want of presents; for we all know he has already given +her a whole casket of rings and bracelets that belonged +to his mother, and he is sitting for his picture, which, +they say, he is to give her besides.</q>—<q>And <hi rend="italic">I</hi> am sure,</q> +quoth the Calabrian in return, <q>that if your young +master don’t have my lady, it won’t be for want of +<pb n="153"/><anchor id="Pg153"/>presents neither; for she is the most generous open-handed +lady in the world, and that her worst enemies +will allow, although her father be an old rogue, and +an usurer, as all the town says he is. No, Dromo,</q> +continued he, <q>nor will it be for want of philtres, nor +of charms, nor of any thing that soothsaying can procure; +for, between ourselves, my lady keeps up a constant +traffic of late with all that sort of gentry; and +what the issue of it all may be, Hecate only knows.</q> +Now, Master Valerius, when I heard him speak of +philtres and charms, you may be sure I began to quicken +up my ears more keenly than ever.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Dromo!</q> said I; <q>you are not serious. You do +not mean surely to make me think that you believe in +the efficacy of love-potions, or any such quackeries?</q> +<q>Quackeries! do you call philtres quackeries? Why, +there was a girl once gave myself a philtre that kept +me raving for six months.</q>—<q>What sort of a looking +girl was she, good Dromo?</q>—<q>Bah!</q> quoth he; <q>don’t +expect to jeer me out of memory as well as judgment. +Heavens and earth! when did any body ever hear of +any body denying the efficacy of philtres? What an +atheistical sort of barbarians those Britons must be. I +wonder you are not afraid of some evil coming upon +you. Remember Dian’s handful; remember the fate +of Actæon!</q>—<q>Good Dromo,</q> said I, <q>I suppose you +also suffered from peeping. But talk seriously; are +you yourself a dealer in philtres, that you are so anxious +I should believe in their power? Or what is your +meaning?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>My meaning is this,</q> quoth he, with great vehemence,—<q>it +is, that if Rubellia gives Sextus such another +<pb n="154"/><anchor id="Pg154"/>philtre as a certain cunning damsel gave me, before I +left pleasant Crete, to be a drudge and a packhorse here +in Rome, where a man may sweat all his life in another’s +service without being once thanked for his pains, and +perhaps be laid out, look ye, for a supper to the vultures +at last, because no body will treat his carcase to a blaze +of old sticks,—I say, that if the Lady Rubellia contrives +to give Sextus such another philtre as that, the game’s +up, Master Valerius; and we may as well set about +painting the dead, as try to save him from her clutches. +The man’s gone—he’s as lost as Troy.</q>—<q>Well, +Dromo,</q> said I, for I perceived there was no use in +fighting it with him, <q>and have you not been able to +hit upon any feasible scheme?</q>—<q>Ay, have you come +to that at last? that is just what I have been cudgelling +my brains about for the last twelve hours. But if I do +hit upon any thing, I shall need assistance. In such +cases, the best judgment can do nothing by itself.</q>—<q>Fear +not, Dromo,</q> quoth I; <q>if my assistance can +do you any good, you well know you can command it +to the utmost.</q>—<q>Then prepare,</q> replied the Cretan, +rising up with an air of much solemnity—<q>then prepare +in good earnest; for, may Cerberus growl upon +me, if I don’t find out some scheme before another day +goes over, and shew you all what stuff I am made of. +To think of entrapping Sextus without consulting +Dromo!—No, by Cretan Jove, she shall not accomplish +it—no, not even with a sea of philtres.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>And, in the meantime,</q> said I, <q>what must Sextus +do with himself?</q>—<q>He must not go near the Suburra; +he must remain closely at home; and as for tasting any +thing at her house, or any thing that comes from +her—<pb n="155"/><anchor id="Pg155"/>by heavens, if he does not take his oath against that—we +may as well leave him to his destiny. If he will +but take good care for this one day, I think there is +every chance something may be hit upon ere the morning. +I have got my cue, and shall not be idle, I promise +you; but I undertake nothing, unless you swear +to keep Sextus safe, and at a distance from her, till +night-fall.</q>—<q>Good Dromo,</q> said I, <q>make yourself +easy on that score; it will be a new circumstance +indeed, if we find any difficulty in persuading Sextus +to stay a single day away from the Suburra.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Persuading!</q> quoth the slave; <q>who ever heard +of such a word as persuasion at such a crisis as this? I +tell you he <hi rend="italic">must</hi> be kept away; and if no other plan +can be fallen on, I have a great mind to turn the key +on him and his pedagogue both together. I heard them +hammering at their lessons already as I came along—and +that puts me in mind that I have a very shrewd +notion there is more between that bearded goat of ours +and this Rubellia, than any of us had been suspecting. +Unless that Calabrian lies—and I think lying is above +his sphere—this old rogue has been oftener in the +Suburra of late than we had any thought of. So help +me Hermes! I believe Licinius has been employing +him to go his private messages to Rubellia—but that is +only one insult more, and I shall have my revenge all +in a lump.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I think it very likely,</q> answered I, quietly, <q>that +Licinius may have been employing Xerophrastes in +some such embassies; and, if I mistake not the matter, +he would feel himself quite as much in his element, +trotting along the Sacred Way, and so forth, on such +<pb n="156"/><anchor id="Pg156"/>delicate errands for the father, as in expounding musty +parchments to the son.</q>—<q>No matter for all that,</q> +quoth Dromo, rubbing his hands; <q>the more enemies +the more glory. Would Miltiades have been pleased +had the Spartans arrived?—Leave all to me—take you +care only of Sextus, and I am not afraid for any reinforcement +that rascally rhetorician may bring against +me.</q>—While he was saying so, the face of the Cretan +exhibited symptoms of incipient glee; and he concluded +with snapping his fingers, and uttering a short +keen whistle, such as you have heard from the lips of a +hunter, when the dogs begin to bay around a thicket. +</p> + +<p> +Seeing his eyes dance with the expectation of some +bustling scene, I could not help participating, in some +measure, in the feelings of the Cretan; and, <q>Dear +Dromo,</q> said I, <q>I beseech you, if it be possible, let +me have a share in whatever you resolve upon.</q>—<q>Watch +well,</q> replied he, <q>during the day, and you +shall see what you shall see, when the moon mounts +above the Cœlian, and the hour for grubbing among +herbs and bones is come.—But now I hear some one +coming—it is Licinius.</q>—Dromo, finger on lip, +glided from the room. Nor had his well-practised ears +deceived him, for he scarcely vanished, before my kinsman +entered. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Valerius,</q> said he, saluting me affectionately, <q>I +thought you were probably much fatigued with your +spectacles, so I desired that nobody should call you this +morning; but I met Boto in the hall, and hearing that +you were astir, I have come up, for I wish a little private +conversation. Shall we walk in the eastern portico, +till Xerophrastes leaves Sextus at liberty?</q> +</p> + +<pb n="157"/><anchor id="Pg157"/> + +<p> +He led the way along the gallery, and in passing, we +also heard the deep voice of the rhetorician resounding +among the pillars, and could even catch a few of the +magniloquent phrases with which he was feeding the +ears of his pupil. <q>Ay, ay,</q> says Licinius, <q>I wish, +indeed, it were possible to inspire the youth with some +sense of what is due to the dignity of principle, and how +absurd it is to think of gratifying whims at the expense +of duty. But I fear the boy is incorrigible; and, +Caius, I am sorry to say, I suspect you have been +looking on his errors with a countenance rather of +favour and of confirmation, than, as I should have +expected, of rebuke.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Licinius,</q> said I, <q>you know not how much you +distress me. I could rather die than encourage Sextus +in any thing I thought evil; but, indeed, I have seen +nothing to make me imagine him capable of such +conduct.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Come, by Hercules,</q> returned he, <q>there is no occasion +for so many words. I thought it very odd that +you went away so soon from the Forum the other day, +considering that you had never been there before; but +I thought it doubly and trebly remarkable that Sextus +should have accompanied you, when the case in hand +affected the affairs of Rubellia. But I have since found +out that it was not the society of old Capito which +attracted him—no, my friend, nor yet the alarm of +a thunder storm that detained you at the villa. In a +word, Valerius, I strongly suspect that Sextus is carrying +on an intrigue with a young lady whom I never +saw, but who, I am quite sure, will never be mistress +of a dozen lizards, and that this is the true cause of +<pb n="158"/><anchor id="Pg158"/>his reluctance concerning a match, which, to say nothing +of the pleasure it would give to me, is the only +means by which I can see any prospect of the young +man’s fortune being made, and the dignity of his +family kept up, after another effigy shall have been +added to our hall. Infatuated and headstrong boy! if +he owes nothing to himself or to me, is it possible that +he can look upon that venerable line of sages and +heroes, without feeling shame in the degradation of +his own earth-stooping desires?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Without question,</q> said I, <q>you allude to the Lady +Rubellia, whom, as I have heard from various quarters, +you are desirous of seeing wedded to Sextus.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yes, Caius Valerius, it is indeed to her I allude; +and it is of the obstacle which—unwittingly, I doubt +not—you yourself have been throwing in the way +of that union, that I have now to make my complaint. +Not such the service that I had expected from +my kinsman. Rubellia is descended from a noble +family, and, both in possession and expectation, her +wealth is great. Two heavy fines laid upon me by +Domitian, and the expense at which I have maintained +my rank among the great patrons of Rome—these +things together have impoverished me, and to an extent +not altogether convenient. In this boy my hopes +were placed; and see now how they are all likely to +be blasted for a dimpled cheek and a pair of wanton +eyes!—or rather, indeed, I should say, for the sake of +the malignant pleasure that is derived from thwarting +my purposes; for, if beauty were what the boy wanted, +where should he find beauty beyond Rubellia? Perhaps, +Caius, I should, before this time, have made +<pb n="159"/><anchor id="Pg159"/>you acquainted with my intentions from my own +lips. But it is my own foolish indulgence which +has made my degenerate boy quite forget, not only +what is the duty of a son, but what is the power of a +father.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I trust,</q> said I, <q>there is no need for all this seriousness. +Sextus has only laid aside the garb of a stripling; +it is too much to be despairing of his success in life, only +because he is unwilling, at a period so early, to enter +upon a permanent connection. Is it possible, that, if +he really dislike Rubellia, you would wish to see him +marry her—only to divorce her, without question, as +soon as he should find it possible to do so without inconvenience?</q>—<q>Handsome, +rich, noble, and almost +as young as himself, why, in the name of all the gods, +for what cause should he divorce Rubellia?</q>—<q>Sir,</q> +said I, <q>he loves not Rubellia, nor will ever love her; +and if you cause your son to marry this woman, look +you well to it, that the unhappiness of both rest not on +your head. Handsome, rich, noble, and young she +may be; but I am sure, she has neither such a heart, +nor such a mind, as should belong to the wife of your +Sextus. A luxurious woman is Rubellia, and I have +seen her find luxury in the contemplation of blood. +Wed not Rubellia to your son.</q>—<q>Peace, Valerius,</q> +he answered; <q>what boyish nonsense is this?—I <hi rend="italic">will</hi> +wed Rubellia to my son; and let him see to it, that he +tempts me not farther with his disobedience.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Licinius said these last words in a voice of so much +earnestness, that I knew not well what answer to make +to him; but while I was hesitating, one of the little +boys about the house, (I mean the children of the +<pb n="160"/><anchor id="Pg160"/>domestic slaves,) said, <q>If it please my lord, the same +senator that was here in the morning is waiting in +the hall.</q>—<q>Pontius Mamurra!</q> said the orator, +leaving me. +</p> + +<p> +I, for my part, when I heard the name of the +visiter, began to understand somewhat of the channel +through which my kinsman had been informed +about what had passed at the Suburban. I had no +leisure, however, to reflect long upon this hint; for I +found Sextus waiting for me. <q>Come,</q> he said, <q>I +was afraid I must set off without you. My father has +been looking on me this morning with such an aspect +of displeasure as I rarely before witnessed in him, and +if I defer going to the painter about this likeness, he +will be altogether enraged at supper-time. I know +very well he means the ring, in which it is to be placed, +for another present to Rubellia; but notwithstanding, +what can I do? Any opposition to him in lesser matters +would only tend to bring on some final explanation +about the great affair itself, and that, whether it be +weakness in me or not, I as yet have no courage to +encounter. The man must be expecting me; and I +am sure you will accompany me, for I have much need +of you to keep up my heart. Xerophrastes, indeed, has +been desired to go with me; but he will be no comfort, +for I see plainly, from the drift of his harangues, that +he is enlisted against me. Dear Caius, I have nobody +in the whole world I can trust to but Dromo and +yourself.</q> +</p> + +<p> +He had scarcely said so, when we heard Xerophrastes +pacing up and down with solemn strides in the gallery; +so I knew not how to excuse myself, although I was very +<pb n="161"/><anchor id="Pg161"/>anxious to have staid at home for another purpose. +Sextus had taken my gown from the nail; he threw it +over my shoulders before I had time to say any thing, +and we were soon on our way to his ungrateful destination. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="2" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="162"/><anchor id="Pg162"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter II"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter II"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER II.</hi></head> + +<p> +We had to traverse a considerable part of the city; +for this painter was one of those who exercise their art +during the public hours of the day in the baths of the +Palatine, where, as you have heard, in the wide circuit +of the princely residence, abundant accommodation is +set forth for all such ingenious persons. We proceeded +along the edge of the river, and by the west of the +Capitol, following the line of that great Triumphal +Way which has been witness of so many glorious pageants; +for so, they told me, we should most easily ascend +into the Cæsarian courts. But when we had come +thither, we found the whole open space, in front of the +portico and stairs of Trajan, occupied by a detachment +of the Prætorian cohorts, drawn up in splendid array to +receive some promised donative; while the music, and +the clamours of their mustering, had collected enough +of spectators to render the passage onwards in some +measure difficult. We were constrained to form part of +their attendance, and stood gazing among the multitude. +Even Xerophrastes caught some animation from the +brilliancy of the spectacle; and the enamoured and +perplexed Sextus himself, beating time on my shoulder, +seemed to have forgotten, for a moment, the anxieties +of his situation. +</p> + +<pb n="163"/><anchor id="Pg163"/> + +<p> +Some horsemen, however, riding along to keep the +ground open in front of the soldiery, compelled us to +shift to the eastward, where many chariots were drawn +up—and in one of these Rubellia. The lady looked +paler than I had before seen her, and had not the air of +being in the smallest degree occupied with what was +passing. I did not think it necessary to take any notice +of her being there to my companions, and was willing, +indeed, to keep myself turned away from the place +where she sat, in order to avoid our being recognized. +Yet there was something in her aspect and attitude, that, +as by a sort of fascination, drew my eyes to the spot I +wished to avoid. From time to time, therefore, I felt +myself constrained to regard the melancholy lady; and +by and by, Sextus perceived what it was that attracted +my attention:—so I discovered, although he said not +a word, from a fervent pressure upon my arm as I stood +before him. At that moment there drew near a little +ugly old woman, with no covering upon her head but +long coarse gray clusters of hair hanging matted and +twisted down upon her shoulders, who lifted up a basket +of trinkets, and presented it; but Rubellia started on +her seat, and, looking in the face of the old creature, +manifested signs of no trivial emotion; for her colour +returned with a sudden flush, and her eyes recovered +all their animation, and it was evident she had something +to say which could not regard the gaudy ornaments +offered to her view. Whatever it was, however, +she did not occupy much time in saying it; for +scarcely a minute elapsed before the basket was lowered +again, and the old woman began to move towards +another part of the crowd; on which Rubellia sunk +<pb n="164"/><anchor id="Pg164"/>back in her chariot, and appeared to relapse into pensive +abstraction. +</p> + +<p> +Presently a low voice croaking out, <q>Rings, rings—amulets +and rings!</q> amongst the crowd that stood +immediately behind me; and I perceived the same +woman pushing her basket between Xerophrastes and +Sextus.—<q>Noble youth,</q> quoth the hag, leering, +<q>lovely young gentleman—sweet Adonis, my charming +lord, do now look into old Pona’s basket—do take a +look at Ponula’s rings and amulets—her amulets and +rings. Here is one that I could have sold a hundred +times, but I was determined to keep it till I should see +the prettiest young gentleman in Rome, and I will +never go back to Naples without selling it, after this +day; for this little amulet must be nobody’s but yours. +You will break my heart, my prince, if you buy not +my beautiful amulet.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>And what,</q> said Sextus, blushing and laughing, +<q>may be the virtues of your amulet?</q> +</p> + +<p> +Then laying her yellow hand upon his shoulder, till she +had made him stoop down so that she might get close to +his ear, she began to pour out, with much mysterious +volubility, all the story of its marvellous potencies; but +what she said even I could not know, only I heard the +words, <q>Æthiopian, Æthiopian,</q> and <q>Memnon, Memnon,</q> +and something about <q>not a pretty lady in Rome.</q> +But just as the woman was most earnest in her whisper, +and Sextus, apparently at least, in listening, I found +my gown plucked from behind, and behold, there was +Dromo, with a countenance tremulously agitated, and +white as a piece of dead parchment, pointing to his +young master and the old hag, and beseeching me to +<pb n="165"/><anchor id="Pg165"/>separate them, by motions in nowise to be mistaken. +How he had come thither, or what was the cause of this +anxiety, I had no time to conjecture, for before I could +say a word, he began to bellow out,—<q>The horses, the +horses—make room for the horses;</q> and immediately +those that stood near him began to move a little, and +then, the cry being repeated, those that stood farther off +mistaking the noise of their feet for the approach of some +new squadron, there arose a sort of rushing among the +crowd; and, in a twinkling, the voice of Pona was heard +grumbling and croaking at a distance from the place to +which our party were borne. Close, nevertheless, did +the faithful Cretan stick to us; and no sooner was quiet +in some measure restored, and the false alarm he had +created at an end, than he whispered into my ear, <q>For +the sake of all that is sacred, let not that foul hag speak +another word to my young master—I will tell you +more anon. Meantime, haste ye, haste ye. Make the +best of your speed to the Palatine; it will be much +easier for you to push your way thither, than it was +for me to reach you.</q> +</p> + +<p> +My friend being already weary of the heat and the +pressure, we were ready to take advantage of an opening +pointed out by the Cretan. It so happened, however, +that in the same commotion the chariot of Rubellia +also had changed its situation; for just as we had escaped, +as I thought, and were about to place our feet on the +magnificent flight of stairs that leads from the New Way +to the Augustan Towers, there came to us a lad of that +lady’s household, who told us she was near at hand, and +desirous, if it so pleased us, of our company. Aware +that we were in sight, how could we disobey? We +<pb n="166"/><anchor id="Pg166"/>found the lady in her chariot, but not such as we had +seen her before. On the contrary, the liveliness of her +aspect seemed now to be restored, and she received us +with her usual gaiety of address. <q>Careless men,</q> said +she, as we drew near; <q>I suppose I might have sat here +till the Greek Kalends, before any one of you would +have observed me.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Most noble lady,</q> quoth Xerophrastes, <q>bear it not +indignantly, that amidst all the confusion of men and +horses, and trumpets and shoutings, our attention was +abstracted from that which was most worthy of notice. +My young friends deserve to be excused, since even +I, who am not in the habit of being much troubled by +such vanities, was so bewildered that I scarcely knew +my right hand from my left, in this human chaos.—Pardon, +noble Rubellia; we have been unwitting +offenders.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>And was it so?</q> said the lady, not looking at the +Stoic.—<q>But I did not call for you to hear useless apologies. +What new sight is it that attracts you to the +Palatine?—or is it only that you are desirous of exhibiting +to Valerius the old-established wonders of the +place? In either case, I have half a mind to accompany +you. In spite of all they tell us about the Golden +House, I can scarcely think the Palatine shewed more +splendidly than it does now, even in the days of +Nero.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Indeed,</q> said I, as we began to mount together the +broad slabbed steps which rise up, tier above tier, from +the portico on the street, to that which hangs on the +brow—<q>Indeed, it is not easy for me to doubt that +Rubellia is in the right.</q>—For now, on one side, were +<pb n="167"/><anchor id="Pg167"/>all the pillars and arches of the Forum stretched out +below us, and, on the other, lay the great Circus, topped +with its obelisk; while before rose the gray cliffs of the +Capitoline, with their domes and proud pinnacles in the +glow of noontide—the space between, radiant with +arms and banners. Even Xerophrastes did not refrain +from some ejaculations.—<q>Illustrious Rome! how great +is thy sublimity!</q> And then, after a pause, he repeated, +in a voice of much majesty, those verses from the Fury +of Ajax: +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post: none">Oh! might I be where o’er the living deep</q></l> +<l>Lies the broad shadow of the Sounian cliff,</l> +<l>Waving with all its glorious garniture,</l> +<l>Of rock-sprung foliage: from old Ocean’s side,</l> +<l><q rend="pre: none">That I might look on Athens once again!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Some of the hints which had reached me concerning +his nativity recurring to my recollection, I could not help +echoing his quotation with another from the Æneid, +about the wide tracts ploughed by the Thracians; of +which impertinence the sage took no notice. +</p> + +<p> +Nor was admiration diminished when, having gained +the top of that massive staircase, or rather, as I should +say, hill of marble, we passed beneath the sounding +portal, the sole remnant of the original pile of Augustus, +and found ourselves within the first of those great +imperial quadrangles, by which the whole summit of +that once so variously and multitudinously peopled +region is now occupied. The light and airy porticoes—the +domes—the princely towers—the universal profusion +of marble, brass, ivory, flaming gold, lavished on +arch, metope, and architrave—all conspired to dazzle +the sight, and I stood still to gaze. +</p> + +<pb n="168"/><anchor id="Pg168"/> + +<p> +<q>Observe,</q> said Sextus, <q>those two equestrian statues +of bronze on the left hand. I have heard my father +say that they mark the sites of two houses, which, +before Augustus began to enclose the whole Palatine in +his walls, were inhabited, the one by Cicero, the other by +Clodius; these are the only traces of their mansions.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>What grim-looking figures!</q> said the lady; <q>yet, +I dare say, they don’t cast half such fierce looks on each +other, as the predecessors you mention. I should like +to have seen the countenance of old Tully, the morning +he went down the hill to deliver his harangue for Milo.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I am glad,</q> said I, <q>that Sextus has told me this; +for in reading those famous philippics in time to come, +I shall possess a new key to the bitterness of their +phraseology, knowing, as I do, that the two lived just +over the way from each other, and that the orator, when +his spirits were flagging, could derive a new reinforcement +of spleen from merely putting his head out of the +window.</q>—<q>To hear you,</q> says Rubellia, <q>one would +think you were studying the art of making philippics—I +am afraid, that if it be so, my joining your party +may prove to have been but an ill-judged thing; for if +any of you be preparing to abuse me, my presence will +serve to sharpen your weapons.</q>—<q>In that case, however,</q> +interrupted the smiling Xerophrastes, <q>my noble +lady will admit, that the converse also will hold good, +and that if praise be in meditation, it will not be the +feebler because the subject of the intended panegyric +has passed before our eyes.</q>—<q>Most courteous of men,</q> +replied the lady, <q>who talks of the stiffness of the +Porch? To-day and yesterday you have paid me as +many compliments as might give a lesson to the gayest +<pb n="169"/><anchor id="Pg169"/>trifler about these baths. If all,</q> she continued, (gazing +as she spoke, with all her eyes upon Sextus,)—<q>if all +were as profuse, I should be unable to sustain the weight +of their civilities.</q>—<q>Nay, Oh! generous lady,</q> quoth +the sage again, <q>it must be remembered, that, as the +poet has expressed it, there are two kinds of shame—there +is the wicked shame and the good shame. Why +should it be doubted, that a modest Verecundity, not +unsuitable to their age, has laid her finger on the lips of +our young friends? I swear by the Victrix of Ida, that +your presence itself is that which occasions their silence;—bear +it not ill—bear it not harshly—the young will +learn—not every one has seen Corinth.</q>—<q>No, truly,</q> +answered the laughing lady; <q>but I doubt whether +they that have been so fortunate, have ever seen any +thing half so fine as what now awaits Valerius.</q> +</p> + +<p> +She pointed to the solemn Doric columns which sustain +the portico of the famous Temple of Apollo, whose +shade lay far out upon the court before us; and, passing +between those brazen horsemen, we soon began to +ascend the steps that lead up to the shrine. Nor can +I tell you how delightful was the fragrant coolness, +which reigned beneath the influence of that massive +canopy of marble, to us whose eyes had been so long +supporting the meridian blaze. We entered with slow +steps within the vestibule of the Temple, and stood +there for some space, enjoying in silence the soft breath +of air that played around the flowing fountains. Then +passing on, the airy hall received us; and I saw the +statue of Phœbus presiding, like a pillar of tender +light, over the surrounding darkness of the vaulted +place; for, to the lofty shrine of the God of day no +<pb n="170"/><anchor id="Pg170"/>light of day had access, and there lay only a small creeping +flame burning thin upon his altar; but a dim and +sweet radiance, like that of the stars in autumn, was +diffused all upon the statue, and the altar, and the warlike +trophies suspended in the inner recesses, from the +sacred tree of silver that stands in the centre; amidst +the trembling enamelled leaves and drooping boughs of +which hung many lamps, after the shape and fashion +of pomegranates: and out of every pomegranate flowed +a separate gleam of that soft light, supplied mysteriously +through the stem of the silver tree. +</p> + +<p> +There appeared presently from behind the statue, a +majestic woman, arrayed in long white garments, and +having a fillet of laurel leaves twined above her veil. +Venerable and stately was her mien, but haughty, rather +than serene, the aspect of her countenance. Without +looking towards us, she went up to the altar, and began +to busy herself in trimming the sacred fire, which, as I +have said, exhibited only a lambent flame. When, +with many kneelings and other ceremonies, she had +accomplished this service, the priestess turned again, as +if to depart; and then first, as it seemed, observing the +presence of strangers, she stood still before the altar, +and regarding us attentively, began to recognize the +Lady Rubellia; whom, forthwith advancing, she +saluted courteously, and invited to come with the rest +of us into her privacy, behind the shrine of the God. +</p> + +<p> +She led the way, Rubellia and the rest of us in her +train, through several folding-doors, and along many +narrow passages all inlaid, on roof, wall, and floor, with +snow-white alabaster and rich mosaic work; until at +length we came to a little airy chamber, where three +<pb n="171"/><anchor id="Pg171"/>young maidens were sitting with their embroidering +cushions, while one, taller than the rest, whose back +was placed towards us, knelt on the floor, touching, +with slow fingers, the strings of a Dorian lyre. Hearing +the sound of her music as we entered, we stood still in +the door-way, and the priestess, willing apparently that +our approach should remain unknown, advancing a step +or two before us, said, <q>Sing on—I have trimmed the +flame; but remember, I pray you, that the precincts of +Phœbus are not those of Pluto, and let not your chant +be of such funereal solemnity. We solitaries have little +need of depressing numbers.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Dear friend,</q> replied she that had been thus addressed, +without changing her attitude, <q>you must +bear with my numbers such as they are; for if you bid +me sing only merry strains, I am afraid neither voice +nor fingers may be able well to obey you.</q> +</p> + +<p> +These words were spoken in a low and melancholy +voice, which I well recognized. Sextus, also, perceived +who spoke; but when he looked at me to signify this, +I motioned to keep silence. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Then please yourself,</q> said the priestess, laying her +hand on Athanasia’s shoulders; <q>but do sing, for I +should fain have my maidens to hear something truly +of your music.</q> With that she again applied her fingers +to the lyre, and stooping over it, began to play some +notes of prelude, less sorrowful than what we had at +first heard. <q>Ay, my dear girl,</q> says the priestess, +<q>you could not have chosen better. Heavens! how +many lordly choirs have I heard singing to that old +Delian air. There are a hundred hymns that may be +sung to it—give us whichsoever of them pleases your +<pb n="172"/><anchor id="Pg172"/>fancy the best.</q>—<q>I will try,</q> replied the maiden, +<q>to sing the words you have heard before. If I remember, +you liked them.</q> Then boldly at once, yet gently, +did her voice rush into the current of that ancient strain +that you have heard so often; but it was then that I +myself for the first time heard it. +</p> + +<lg> +<l>The moon, the moon is thine, O night,</l> +<l>Not altogether dark art thou;</l> +<l>Her trembling crescent sheds its light,</l> +<l>Trembling and pale, upon thine ancient brow.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>The moon is thine, and round her orb</l> +<l>A thousand sweet stars minister,</l> +<l>Whose twinkling rays dark wells absorb,</l> +<l>And all the wide seas drink them far and near.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>They kiss the wide sea, and swift smiles</l> +<l>Of gladness o’er the waters creep;</l> +<l>Old hoary rocks rejoice, and isles,</l> +<l>And there is glory on the slumbering deep</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>Afar. Along the black hill’s side,</l> +<l>Right blithe of heart the wanderers go,</l> +<l>While that soft radiance, far and wide,</l> +<l>Gleams on the winding streams and woods below.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>And gaily for the fragile bark,</l> +<l>Through the green waves its path is shorn,</l> +<l>When all the murmurs of the dark</l> +<l>Cold sea lie calm’d beneath that gliding horn.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>Yet hail, ye glittering streaks, that lie</l> +<l>The eastern mountain tops upon!</l> +<l>Hail, ye deep blushes of the sky,</l> +<l>That speak the coming of the bridegroom sun!</l> +</lg> + +<pb n="173"/><anchor id="Pg173"/> + +<lg> +<l>Hail to the healing beam of day,</l> +<l>That rouses every living thing!</l> +<l>The forest gulphs confess thy sway,</l> +<l>And upon freshening branches glad birds sing.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>And loathsome forms, that crept unseen</l> +<l>Beneath the star-light faint and wan,</l> +<l>Cower in their brakes the thorns between,</l> +<l>Dreading that fervid eye, and its sure scan</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>Triumphant. Welcome life and light!</l> +<l>Sing rocks and mountains, plain and sea;</l> +<l>Fearful though lovely was the night;</l> +<l>Hail to more perfect beauty—hail to <hi rend="small">THEE</hi>!</l> +</lg> + +<p> +<q>Why stop you, Athanasia?</q> said the priestess, finding +that here she paused,—<q>why do you rise up, and +take your fingers from the lyre, before you sing out the +chorus?</q>—<q>No more, dear aunt—excuse me—no +more. I have already sung all that I can,</q> replied +Athanasia.—<q>Nay, then,</q> says she, <q>if you be fatigued, +sing not; but join me, maidens, in the close—perhaps +it rises too high for Athanasia.</q> +</p> + +<p> +And with that the ancient lady herself, joined by +the three damsels that had been embroidering, took up +the strain, which, indeed, rose higher towards its end +</p> + +<lg> +<l>Hail to thee Phœbus, son of Jove,</l> +<l>Glorious Apollo, Lord of Light,</l> +<l>Hail, lovely in thy Delian grove,</l> +<l>And terrible on Delphos’ haunted height!</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>Hail to thee here beneath the dome,</l> +<l>Great Phœbus, of thy Latian shrine;</l> +<l>All hail from Cæsar and from Rome;</l> +<l>Hail by thy dearest name, God Palatine!</l> +</lg> + +<pb n="174"/><anchor id="Pg174"/> + +<p> +But as they were singing the last verse of all, Rubellia +also aided their melody with a rich strong gushing voice, +which rose far above all the others; and the silent +Athanasia turning round quickly, perceived, not without +manifestation of alarm, by how many strangers her +song had been overheard. On seeing who we were, she +saluted Sextus and myself with modest courtesy, amidst +her confusion; and it may be that my companion, as +well as myself, blushed at the same moment; for he +could not see Athanasia without thinking of Sempronia. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed as if her confusion were not unconnected +with some suspicion of having been recognized near +the Prætorian guard-house; for, after the first glance, +I in vain endeavoured to meet her eye; while on the +contrary, to Sextus she directed both looks and words, +enough to provoke visibly some not altogether benign +movements in our Rubellia. Such, at least, was my +interpretation of the fair widow’s aspect, and the tone +of impatience in which she, after a minute or two had +passed, began to urge the propriety of our proceeding +to the part of the imperial edifice in which the painter +was expecting us. +</p> + +<p> +The priestess of Apollo hearing her say so, courteously +offered to guide us beyond the precincts of the temple, +and our whole party were again in motion; but +Athanasia remained behind with the three young damsels, +and I, who walked last, saw her, ere the portal +received me, preparing again to handle the lyre, with +fingers visibly trembling, and a pale countenance, not +as I thought unstained with some yet more distinct +traces of keen emotion. The sight of her agitation +fixed my footstep for a moment, and it was then that, +<pb n="175"/><anchor id="Pg175"/>on her casting a sudden glance round to the place where +I stood, I perceived truly that I had not been mistaken, +and that the tears were gathered within her eyelids. +It was no more, however, than one glance, for immediately +she stooped again, and, dashing her fingers along +the chords of the instrument, appeared to bury her +thoughts in its harmony. I stood for a moment, and +then ashamed of myself, and troubled with her troubles +and with my own, I followed the rest into the great +library which Augustus placed beneath the protection of +the Palatine Apollo. The priestess parted from us at its +entrance, after pointing out a low and massive door of +bronze on the right hand, within which, as she told me, +the remains of the Sybilline prophecies are preserved, +unseen by profane eyes, watched over perpetually by +the guardians of the place. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="3" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="176"/><anchor id="Pg176"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter III"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter III"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER III.</hi></head> + +<p> +I had walked by the side of my young friend, and +behind the Stoic, (who, I think, was expressing, in his +pompous fashion, much admiration of the singing of +Rubellia,) along one or two of the great halls in which +the library is contained, before the novelty of the objects +surrounding me made any impression even on my eyes; +and even after these were in some measure engaged, my +mind still continued to dwell on that troubled aspect, +and on the notes of the uncompleted song. At length, +however, the levity of youth, and natural curiosity +revived; and I began to be present, not in body merely, +in a place where there was much that might well interest +the mind. Far-receding rows of columns conducted +my eyes into the interminable recesses of that wide +range of chambers, in which the records of the thought +and spirit of all past ages are piled up together; and +gazing on the loaded shelves which every where +ascended into the galleries, I could not but be affected +with many new emotions. I perused glorious names +on the busts that seemed to preside over the different +compartments. The high filletted front of Homer +detained for the first time my contemplation; the +eyes of the divine old man, even in sculpture, distinctly +<pb n="177"/><anchor id="Pg177"/>and visibly blind, while the serenity and sanctity of the +towering forehead, revealed how the intense perception +at once of the lovely and the great could compensate +for visions of earthly beauty shut out. The mild Plato, +and the imperious Stagyrite—Pindar—Simonides—Alcæus—and +I know not how many more, succeeded +as we passed along—each in his own sphere, reigning +by himself; yet all connected together by a certain +common air of greatness, like so many successive +princes, or contemporary heroes of the same mighty +empire. +</p> + +<p> +From this main range, there diverged many lesser +chambers, in which we saw studious persons engaged, +each seated by himself, and having his eyes fixed on +the parchment before him. Of these, some deigned not to +intimate by the smallest movement their perception that +any one had approached; but with others Xerophrastes +exchanged, as he walked, lofty salutation, and one or +two even entered, for a moment, into conversation with +him. With one of these, indeed, (an ancient of bitter +aspect,) to such a length did the colloquy extend, that +we began to think we should never be able to get +our Stoic away from him; till, as our fortune would +have it, it became necessary for them to have a certain +book for the purpose of reference, and then Xerophrastes +began to make inquiries concerning Parmeno, who, as +I gathered, must needs be one of those intrusted with +the care of the library. +</p> + +<p> +<q>I am afraid,</q> said the other, <q>if we must wait for +him, we shall not be able to get that work either to-day +or to-morrow; for his pupil, the son of Fabricius, is +dead, and I suppose he will now change his quarters, +<pb n="178"/><anchor id="Pg178"/>and be no longer seen so often about these haunts of +the muses.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Alas!</q> interrupted Sextus, <q>I met Fabricius in the +Forum a few days ago, and he told me his son was ill; +but little did I imagine my dear companion was so near +his end! Is it indeed so?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Even so,</q> rejoined the other. <q>Rapid have been +the shears of Atropos! It is but a few moments since +Agaso, the painter passed; and, he told me he had been +receiving orders to take a likeness, as well as he could, +from the corpse.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>If Agaso be so engaged,</q> replied Xerophrastes, <q>I +am afraid we need not expect to find him neither in his +usual place. Perhaps we had better make inquiry for +him at the dwelling of Fabricius.</q> +</p> + +<p> +To this Sextus assented; or rather, being lost in reflection +concerning the death of his friend, he suffered +himself to be conducted by the Stoic. Passing, therefore, +through one or two more apartments, we issued +forth, and drew near to the vestibule of Fabricius’ house, +who, as they told me, was a noble Roman, having the +chief superintendance of the whole library, and an intimate +friend of Licinius—one whose domestic calamity +could not fail to spread much affliction through a wide +circle of patrician kindred. +</p> + +<p> +At the vestibule, we found assembled not a few of the +young man’s relations; but Xerophrastes immediately +said, <q>Behold Parmeno, he is the most afflicted; and +what wonder that it should be so?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Alas!</q> said Sextus, <q>the bier is set forth; the last +rites are to be performed this evening.</q> +</p> + +<p> +This Parmeno was a striking figure. Seated close +<pb n="179"/><anchor id="Pg179"/>by the bier, his head was involved in his cloak, so +that only his eyes and his nose could be seen, but these +of themselves expressed a decorous affliction; and +the folds of the cloak fell down over the rest of his +person in great order and dignity. On the pavement +beside him was seen lying, half-unfolded, a book inscribed +with the name of Heraclitus, which he appeared +to have been reading. When Xerophrastes approached, +this mourner stretched forth his hand, and shook +his head, but he did not say any thing, nor even look +towards the rest of us; and indeed to have done so, +would have disturbed the attitude in which he had +placed himself. Xerophrastes, on his part, received +the proffered hand, and shaking his head in response, +said, <q>Yes, my Ionian friend, I may still bid thee hail +and live; but I must say farewell to the plant thou +wast rearing. Farewell to the youthful promise of +Fabricius!</q> +</p> + +<p> +On hearing these words, the sitting philosopher drew +his mantle quite over his face, and leant himself heavily +against one of the fluted columns of the vestibule, for +he seemed to be much shaken. In the meantime Sextus +approached the bier, and contemplated his companion +as he lay there wreathed with melancholy garlands; +his countenance bearing a natural mixture of sadness +and astonishment. Nor could I, who had never before +seen the young man, behold the spectacle without similar +emotions; for his age, as it seemed, could not have been +much different from my own, and the pale features +were interesting, their expression not less amiable than +solemn. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Alas!</q> said Sextus, <q>the last time I saw him, how +<pb n="180"/><anchor id="Pg180"/>differently did he appear! We rode out together with +some others to Tibur, and spent all the day there; and +as we returned by the moonlight, how joyous his conversation! +Methinks I yet hear him laughing and +speaking. We parted at the foot of the Capitoline, and +never did I see him again till now.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Oh, fate of man!</q> quoth Xerophrastes; <q>how +uncertain is life, how certain death! Without doubt, +young Fabricius had as little thought of dying as any +of your company; and yet, see now, he is arrayed for +the last time, and this juvenile gown, which he should +so soon have laid aside for the manly, is destined to be +consumed with him.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>A fine lad he was,</q> cries one of the standers by,—<q>a +fine lad, and an excellent horseman. The Martian +Field did not often behold such a rider in these degenerate +days of the Roman youth.</q> +</p> + +<p> +But while the rest were still contemplating the bier, +Xerophrastes, turning to his brother philosopher, said, +<q>Tell me now, my learned friend, do you still, after +this mournful event, continue to reside with the elder +Fabricius? Has that excellent man any more sons to +be educated, or will he retain you only for the sake of +the library, with which assuredly he will find few so +conversant as yourself?</q> +</p> + +<p> +To which Parmeno replied, <q>Your question, O Xerophrastes, +shews that clear judgment concerning the +affairs of men, for which you have always been celebrated. +No, my friend, the gray-haired Fabricius no +longer requires my residence here; for he is about to +retire into one of his villas on the Campanian shore, +and to bury for ever his affliction in the privacy of +<pb n="181"/><anchor id="Pg181"/>his woods. We are about to part, not without mutual +tears; and several Patricians have already been +applying to him for his influence with me, whom, +although unworthy of so much research, they earnestly +covet, and wish to engage as the instructor of their +young men. I have been sitting here not unseen, beside +this my former charge, and each is impatient to +solicit me into his service.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Your reputation I well know is high,</q> replied +Xerophrastes, <q>and deservedly so; more particularly, +for that fine talent you have for giving metaphysical +interpretations of mythology, and for explaining the +obscure allegories of ancient poets. But for my own +part, Parmeno, I find not so much delight in abstract +ideas, or in the passive contemplation of the universe; +but incline rather to study, as heretofore, that part of +philosophy which relates to action, and the morality of +duty.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yes, worthy Xerophrastes,</q> returned he, with a +most languid serenity; <q>and so far as I understand, +you sort well in this with the stirring disposition of +your friend Licinius.</q> +</p> + +<p> +To which Xerophrastes made answer:—<q>My patron +Licinius is fond of action, and I of the rules of action. +He says, it is only in war, or in civil functions of a +public nature, that a person can prove himself a man. +The rest, he says, is visionary, and comes to nothing, +or is a slumber of the mind in sensuality, without +thought.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Does he think, then,</q> quoth Parmeno, his wobegone +countenance relaxing into a smile,—<q>Does Licinius +think, then, there is no sensuality in perpetual action, +<pb n="182"/><anchor id="Pg182"/>and declamation and noise? To me such things appear +almost as trivial as the lazy enjoyments of Epicureans, +besides being harsh and disagreeable, and not unfrequently +ridiculous. But observe, O Xerophrastes! that +I speak these things as it were abstractly, and not by +any means in disparagement of Licinius, your excellent +patron and friend.</q> +</p> + +<p> +To which the stoic replied in astonishment—<q>What +is this you have said? Do you assert that action is +sensual?</q> +</p> + +<p> +Then Parmeno, lifting from the pavement the book +which he had been reading, or appearing to read, said, +<q>It is even so, most erudite Xerophrastes. Indeed, I +have always delighted in the most primitive and remote +doctrines handed down from antiquity; and among +others, in the riddles of this obscure Ephesian. Following +the scope of his philosophy, I am led to believe, +that, so often as the mind impels, or is impelled by +other causes, it begins to lose sight of pure knowledge, +and becomes in danger of thinking that every thing is +vain, light, and evanescent, except what is perceived by +the senses. Heraclitus well says, that Love and Hatred +govern all things. Now, when the principle of Discord +prevails, it subjects all things to the dominion of action, +and to the gross perceptions of sense. But when that +of Love is prevalent, it emancipates the struggling +chaos of things from the yearning of compulsion, and +from the darkness of sensual proximity; for, between +things that struggle immediately against each other, +light has no room to enter in and shine; and therefore +it is, that, when Love gains the ascendency, a new +arrangement is produced—an arrangement which, if I +<pb n="183"/><anchor id="Pg183"/>may so express it, is more serene, transparent, orderly +and divine, and wherein things exist in safety from the +danger of mutual destruction.</q> +</p> + +<p> +After a preliminary cough:—<q>My opinion,</q> replied +Xerophrastes, <q>coincides rather with that of Empedocles. +The immortal Sicilian thinks that Discord is +the only separating and arranging principle which +marks the boundaries between things, and enables +them mutually to act and repel, in such a way as to +preserve order.</q>—<q>Nay, nay,</q> interrupted Parmeno, +his hands being by this quite disentangled from his +cloak, and his countenance lighted up,—<q>Nay, nay, +to such doctrine I never shall assent. From Empedocles—even +from Xerophrastes, I must differ for ever +on this head. The order of which you and the Sicilian +speak, is the order of darkness only, and of blind force,—a +kind of order in which fierceness and cruelty +always reign.</q> But Xerophrastes continued:—<q>And I +farther concur with Empedocles in thinking, that Love +is a principle of which the predominance is more fit to +turn order into a chaos, than to produce the effects you +have described.</q>—<q>Nay, speak not against Love,</q> +quoth Parmeno—<q>Speak not against Love, nor believe +that any respect is due to the dictates of Empedocles, +who taught the worst that can be taught by any +man—that is to say, the alternation of order and confusion +succeeding each other throughout all time. To +seek for truth in conceptions like these, is no better than +to seek repose in the bosom of Ætna.</q>—<q>In reference +to that point,</q> resumed Xerophrastes, <q>I agree with +you in your disapprobation of Empedocles. But when +you say, that Love is the source of knowledge, you +<pb n="184"/><anchor id="Pg184"/>much astonish me; for I have always thought rather +that its tendency is to bring confusion upon the mind.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Once more,</q> said Parmeno—<q>once more, let me +beseech you to say nothing against love. You are +thinking of the love of particular objects. You speak +of Cupid, and not of that heavenly Eros, who, so far +from enchaining, or tyrannizing over the mind, rather +enables it to escape into the tranquil freedom of far +extended contemplation. But what is contemplation +without the knowledge of permanent forms, on which +the mind may find repose, and so keep itself from being +perplexed by the shifting aspects of the many-coloured +universe? And therefore it is, O Xerophrastes, that, +sometimes laying aside Heraclitus, I study the ancient +verses of the poet, Xenophanes, who shews, by the +nature of abstract forms, that a certain unity pervades +all things. Xenophanes mused of old at Colophon, looking +through the blue ether of my native Ionia.—But +why should I speak thus at length? Alas! what is the +occasion of our being here!—I perceive the approach +of the poet, who was to compose an inscription for the +urn of my dear Fabricius. Yonder also is the architect, +who comes with a design for the tomb. Oh! day of +wo, that I should sit in judgment concerning the epitaph +and tomb of my ingenuous youth!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>It is, indeed, true,</q> replied Xerophrastes, <q>that +even I, in the repercussions of our talk, had well-nigh +forgotten this unhappy occurrence; but, perhaps, there +is something not after all entirely excusable in our giving +so much superiority to the affairs of philosophical +discussion. Now, however, it is evident, that we must +suspend our colloquy—And who, I beseech you, above +<pb n="185"/><anchor id="Pg185"/>all things, is he that now draws near to the place of +this mournful assembly, holding a horse in his hand. +Methinks I have seen his face before.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>That you have indeed, Master,</q> quoth he that had +come up,—<q>that you have; and no longer ago than +yesterday neither, if you will be pleased to give yourself +the trouble of recollecting. My name is Aspar—I +am well known. If but my excellent friend, the noble +Centurion Sabinus, were here, poor old Aspar would +have no reason to complain of the want of a good word.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Good morrow to you, Aspar,</q> said Sextus; <q>but +what is it that brings you hither just at this moment? +And for what purpose have you brought your horse +with you? for people of your sort do not in general ride +in the courts of the Palatine.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Alas!</q> quoth Aspar, <q>and is it you, who seem to +have been one of the contemporaries of that peerless +youth—is it you that ask such a question as this? +I did not, in truth, imagine that there was any friend +of young Fabricius, who did not know his affection +for little Sora. There is not such another within +twenty miles of the Capitol; but I brought her hither +merely out of regard for the family. As for myself, I +should never bear to look on her again with pleasure, +after knowing the sudden manner of his death. I wish +to Heaven the filly were fairly lodged in one of the +paddocks of the Lord Fabricius himself.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Lead the animal round into the stables,</q> says Parmeno, +<q>and I doubt not care will be taken of her.—Yonder +comes one of the buffoons of the theatre;—he, +I doubt not, is here to disgrace, if he be permitted, this +solemn scene, with ranting quotations from the tragic +<pb n="186"/><anchor id="Pg186"/>poets. Alas! alas! I cannot bear all this: There also +advance the officiators from the Temple of Libitina; +they have their cypress boughs ready in their hands. +Oh, my learned friend, I cannot sustain these things; +let me be gone into the mansion.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The admirer of Heraclitus, picking up his scroll, and +gathering together the folds of his mantle, moved slowly +into the house, Xerophrastes following with similar +gestures. Sextus and I also were about to take our +departure; and he, having procured from one of the +slaves of the house a myrtle garland, had already placed +it upon the bier of the young Fabricius, as the last +testimonial of his concern; when there drew near two +young men, clad in long mantles of black, who, solemnly +embracing my friend, began to exchange with him many +expressions of grief. +</p> + +<p> +While they were thus engaged, Rubellia, who had +been standing all this while a little apart, sent a boy +to inform us that the painter we were in search of had +at last made his appearance, and was anxious to proceed +with his portrait. I drew Sextus away, therefore, +and soon joined the lady and the artist; but as we +were moving off thus, one of the bystanding slaves, +an old gray-headed man, came up and whispered to +Sextus, <q>Sir, be not deceived; these two nephews of +my bereaved master are to me the most disagreeable +part of all this preparation. You have heard their +lamentation, and seen their sweeping raiment of mourning; +but, be sure, a principal subject of their reflection +is the probability that one or other of them must be +adopted by Fabricius. Alas! alas! so goes all between +Lucina and Libitina. There was never a birth nor a +<pb n="187"/><anchor id="Pg187"/>marriage that did not create some sorrow, nor a funeral +procession that did not give rise to some joy. Your +rhetoricians talk, but what avails it all? Slaves and +masters are alike subjected to the evils of the world, and +of these death is both the last and the least.</q> +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="4" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="188"/><anchor id="Pg188"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter IV"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter IV"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER IV.</hi></head> + +<p> +Agaso, the painter, was a smart dapper little bandy-legged +man of Verona, dressed in a Grecian mantle, and +endeavouring to look as much as possible like a Greek. +Had Xerophrastes not gone off with his brother of +Ionia, I have no doubt this man would have made his +presence a sufficient excuse for speaking nothing but +Greek to us; but, even as it was, his conversation was +interlarded with an abundant intermixture of that noble +tongue. Nothing could be spoken of which Agaso did +not think fit to illustrate, either by the narration of +something he himself had seen or heard during his residence +at Athens, or, at least, by some quotation from +the Grecian poets. To judge from the square, and +somewhat ponderous formation of the man’s features, +Nature had not designed him for any of the most mercurial +specimens of her workmanship; but he contrived, +notwithstanding, by perpetual shrugging and grimacing, +and, above all, by keeping his eyes and eyebrows continually +in motion, to give himself an air of no inconsiderable +life and vivacity. +</p> + +<p> +Hopping before us with much alacrity, this artist +conducted our steps through eight or ten galleries, until +at length a curtain being withdrawn, which had covered +<pb n="189"/><anchor id="Pg189"/>the space between two pilasters, we found ourselves in +a spacious apartment, which, from the courteousness +wherewith he bowed us into it, there could be no difficulty +in perceiving to be the customary sphere of his +own exertions. It was not altogether deserted even +when we entered, but the removal of the curtain attracted +more of the loungers of the baths, and ere Sextus +was fairly fixed before the table of the painter, the +modest youth had the mortification to find himself +surrounded with a very crowd of knowing and curious +physiognomies. The presence of these, however, appeared +not unwelcome to the master. On the contrary, +there arose between the little man, as he was preparing +his brushes, and those who had come to survey him at +his work, such a gabble of compliments, remarks, and +disquisitions, that it seemed to me as if he would have +been disappointed had he not been favoured with their +attendance. +</p> + +<p> +<q>How noble,</q> cries one, <q>is that portrait you have +just been finishing of Rupilius!—Heavens! with what +felicity you have caught the air! Methinks I see him +about to enter the Basilica, when he knows that some +great cause is awaiting his decision. What solemnity +in his aspect! what grandeur in the gown!—How +finely the purple of the laticlave is made to harmonize +with the colouring of the cheeks and chin! What +beautiful handling about the fingers with which he +grasps his tablets!—As for the head of the stylus, it is +the very eye of the picture.</q>—<q>Exquisite indeed,</q> +quoth another; <q>but who can look at it, or at any +thing else, in the same room with this little jewel?—Heavens! +what a beauty! who can it be? for I never +<pb n="190"/><anchor id="Pg190"/>saw her either at the Circus or the Amphitheatre. What +an inimitable modesty!</q> +</p> + +<p> +The painter heard this last piece of eulogy with an +air of some embarrassment, and at the same time looked +very cunningly towards the person who had uttered it. +But the Lady Rubellia tossed her head, and whispered +to me, <q>Pretty she may be, though I cannot say that +style of dressing the hair is at all adapted for such +features; but for modesty! hem. I asked Agaso two +or three days ago who it was, and he told me—guess!—it +is a little Spanish girl, whom that august-looking +person, with the grand laticlave, and the purple cheeks +and chin, and the glittering stylus, thought fit to bring +home with him when he was relieved from the hard +duties of the Pro-prætorship. I dare say, he takes care +she shall not be seen either at Circus or Amphitheatre; +and, indeed, I think it is sufficient impudence to shew +her likeness in the company of so many portraits of +respectability.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>My dear lady,</q> quoth the painter, who overheard +somewhat, <q>for the sake of all that is sacred, no word +of this again! Wait, at least, till the canvass for the +Augurship be over. There are always so many to +exaggerate and misrepresent.</q>—<q>Exaggerate, indeed! +I think Rupilius ought to be ashamed of himself; and +at his time of life too. I think you said he was just +the same age with my uncle?</q>—<q>Yes,</q> says the +painter, <q>he must be of that standing; and I think he +went to Spain just about the period of your marriage.</q>—<q>Filthy +old fellow,</q> quoth she, very quickly; <q>and +this is the treasure he has brought home with him! I +have a great mind to tell his wife.</q>—<q>Hush, hush,</q> +<pb n="191"/><anchor id="Pg191"/>said Agaso, <q>this is the very day Rupilius spoke of +bringing her to see his own portrait; and, indeed, I am +sure that is the Senator’s cough. I rely on your prudence.</q> +</p> + +<p> +And the portly original of the laticlaved portrait +walked into the room, having his gown and every part +of his dress arranged as represented in the picture; +although in the living countenance it was easy to discover +a few lines and spots which had been omitted in +the copy. By his side moved a short woman, arrayed +in the extremity of costly attire, whose swarthy complexion +did not, in spite of cosmeticism, harmonize very +well with the bright golden ringlets of her Sicambrian +peruque; while behind the pair came a thin damsel, +whose lineaments exhibited a sort of faint shadow of +the same visage, the rudiments of which had been so +abundantly filled up in that of the rubicund magistrate. +The ex-pro-prætor, after saluting Agaso, stood +still with dignity in the midst of the apartment, +while the fond daughter, rushing close up to his picture, +could with difficulty affix any limits to her expressions +of satisfaction:—<q>O Jupiter! look at the ring. +It is the very ring he wears!—the very images are +engraved upon it; one can see the three Graces. I +never saw such a picture—when will it be brought +home?</q>—<q>Hush, hush, now, Primula,</q> quoth the +mother. <q>It is certainly a likeness; but why will +artists, now-a-days, always paint people older than +they are? And besides, it wants something of his expression. +Don’t you think so yourself, sir?</q> (turning +to the painter) <q>Rupilius has surely been looking very +gloomily when he sat.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="192"/><anchor id="Pg192"/> + +<p> +On this the painter, leaving Sextus, advanced to her +side, and after a pause of some moments, spent in contemplating +alternately his own work and the original, +said, with a courteous simper, <q>How much am I indebted +to you, most noble lady, for this visit, and these +judicious remarks! I only wish you had accompanied +the senator, for then, without question, his countenance +would have worn the look you desiderate; and I perhaps +might have more easily succeeded in catching it, +being aided by your suggestions. I hope it may yet be +amended.</q>—<q>How modest he is!</q> ejaculated the +spouse. <q>A single sitting will suffice, I am sure. We +shall come some day when you are quite alone, and I +will sit by you, and talk to Rupilius all the while.</q>—<q>Delightful!</q> +replied the artist; <q>how happy +shall I be in such an opportunity of improving both +the picture and myself! We must positively prevail +on the senator to give us this one sitting more.</q>—<q>Never +ask his consent,</q> quoth the matron, smiling +upon her lord; <q>leave the whole matter to me. The +picture is for me. And besides, if he were to refuse, I +know how I should be certain to overcome him; for he +has asked me to sit to you myself, and you know if I +were to persist in sitting with my gloomy face, as he +has with his, we should soon bring him to his right +reason.</q>—<q><hi rend="italic">Your</hi> gloomy face, noble lady!</q> replied +the artist, strutting back a pace or two. <q>I am afraid, +if that is the charm by which alone he is to be softened, +we must give up all our hopes.</q>—<q>I protest,</q> says the +lady, <q>I believe you will keep me laughing all the time +I sit. And pray now, what dress do you think I should +wear? Prima says, I ought certainly to be in green; +<pb n="193"/><anchor id="Pg193"/>but I was thinking, that perhaps a yellow byssine would +suit me better. But I shall send over half a dozen robes, +and then we can choose whichever seems to be the best. +One thing only I am quite resolved upon, and that is, +that I shall have my golden chain, with the miniature +of the Pro-prætor—the Senator, I mean—at the end +of it.</q>—<q>Nothing could be in finer taste,</q> he made +answer; <q>and if my lady should think of green, or +purple, or any dark colour for the gown, the rings of +the chain and the setting of the miniature would have +the richest effect.</q>—<q>And do, my dear mother,</q> interrupted +Prima; <q>and do have on the sapphire tiara when +you sit to Agaso. Or what would you think of having +your own hair simply like this lady here? What a +beauty!</q>—<q>A smart little girl, indeed,</q> quoth the +mother. <q>I think I should know that face. Is she +Roman, Agaso?</q>—<q>No, not a Roman,</q> answered the +artist; <q>nor do I think my lady can ever have met +with her. But perhaps my Lord Rupilius may, for she +is a Spaniard.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Agaso turned with a smile to the Senator; but he, +scarcely appearing to look at the picture, answered, with +great gravity, <q>I think I have seen the countenance +before; and perhaps it was in my province. The face +is certainly a pretty one; but nothing so very extraordinary.</q>—<q>They +may say what they like,</q> observed +the spouse, drawing herself up; <q>but there is no such +thing as a really urbane air to be got out of Rome.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, in another part of the room, some other +picture appeared to be exciting a scarcely inferior measure +of curiosity. On approaching the party, I perceived +that this was a sketch, in chalk only, of the head +<pb n="194"/><anchor id="Pg194"/>and shoulders of an old man; and when I had gained an +opportunity of more nearly surveying it, I recognized +without difficulty the features of Tisias of Antioch. The +greater number of those who were looking on it, seemed +also to have been present at his death; for I heard +pointed out by them with exactness the parts in which +the resemblance had been most successfully taken. The +beauty of the old man’s lineaments, and the serenity of +his aspect, they all admired; and while they were loud +in praising these, Agaso himself also joined them, saying, +<q>Oh, so you have found out my old Christian! +How did you get hold of him? for I meant it not to be +seen till I had lain on a little of the colour. But is it +not a fine study?—is it not a noble head? I think I +shall introduce it in the picture I am painting for Pliny. +The subject is the sacrifice of Iphigenia. I went to the +Amphitheatre,</q> he continued, <q>rather late, without +expecting any thing particular; but it immediately +struck me that he might be turned to some account. I +made several little sketches of him, for it was a long +time ere it was over; and this is from the one I took +just after he had made his oration. His hands and feet +were singularly fine, I thought. Here,</q> said he, turning +over the leaves of his tablets—<q>here you have him +in a variety of shapes!—the muscles shewed powerfully +when he knelt;—there, again, you have his fingers +as they were folded on his breast—not much flesh, but +the lines good—veins well expressed.</q> +</p> + +<p> +But about this time the great bell rung in the tower +above the Baths, and the greater part of the young +loungers soon dispersed themselves; some to fence or +wrestle—others to play in the tennis-court—others to +<pb n="195"/><anchor id="Pg195"/>ride in the Hippodrome, in preparation for the bath. +So Agaso, being left alone with Sextus, Rubellia, and +myself, had at length leisure to proceed with his portrait +of the youth. +</p> + +<p> +Much did the lady and the painter discourse, and +many merry things were said by them both; but all +they said could not entirely remove the embarrassment +fixed on the countenance of Sextus; nor, of a +truth, did he present himself with much advantage +before the artist. Rubellia, nevertheless, sate over +against him with looks of no severe criticism; and I +doubt not she would have remained to the end of the +sitting, had not one of her household come with a message, +which, as it seemed, rendered necessary her departure. +It struck me, that the messenger answered very +well to Dromo’s description of the fat Calabrian with +whom he and Boto had been drinking; but of this I +said nothing to Sextus. +</p> + +<p> +It was near the hour of supper before we were dismissed, +and we found Licinius already about to enter +his eating chamber. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="5" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="196"/><anchor id="Pg196"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter V"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter V"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER V.</hi></head> + +<p> +The orator received us with less coldness than I could +have expected. I suppose his knowledge that our +morning had been spent in Rubellia’s company, had +in some measure softened his feelings of jealousy towards +his son; and perhaps he had given me credit for advice, +to the merit of which I had no claim. But he remained +not long at table after supper was concluded, being +summoned to discourse in private with a client:—so that +Sextus and I were left to spend the evening as it might +please ourselves; for as to Xerophrastes, he had not as +yet made his appearance, and we took it for granted he +had remained at the mansion of Fabricius, for the purpose +of consoling with philosophical controversies his +bereaved brother of Ionia. +</p> + +<p> +We retired, therefore, into the apartment of my +young friend; but he could not read a page without +coming upon some verse which made him throw +down the scroll to ruminate on the charms of his +Sempronia. When he took up his lute, his fingers +seemed to evoke only the most melancholy sounds. +It was only in the exercise of the foil, that he succeeded +in banishing from his thoughts the troubles +of his situation; but both of us having contended till +<pb n="197"/><anchor id="Pg197"/>we were breathless, were soon compelled to sit down, +and then the unhappy boy’s exhausted body seemed to +communicate a new debility to his mind. We sat for +the most part in silence, (for I soon found that I could +not say any thing capable of interesting him,) until the +shades of evening had quite darkened the chamber, and +then we walked together, not less silently, in the adjoining +open gallery, until the moon had arisen from +above the tall poplars around the Pantheon and Baths +of Agrippa, and diffused her radiance over all the beautiful +gardens and noble edifices that lay beneath us down +to the brink of the river. Lassitude of spirit then, if not +expectation of sleep, rendered Sextus desirous of retiring +to his couch; so, having exhorted the youth to wrestle +with his grief, and to call hope to his aid, I at length +left him to himself. But as for me, I had as yet no +feeling of weariness, and, besides, I remembered the +promise I had made to Dromo in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +I was very much surprised, indeed, that the Cretan +had not as yet come to me, and made inquiry concerning +him of Boto; but hearing that the man was +absent from the house, I thought from this there was +the more likelihood of his being engaged in some scheme, +the result of which I should by and by learn from his +own lips. I dismissed my Briton, therefore, and prepared +to read by my watch-light, and while I was considering +what I should read, I remembered the scroll I +had received from Tisias, which forthwith I took from +the place in which I had locked it up on the morning +of the preceding day. There fell from out of it, as I +unfolded it, a letter sealed, but without any superscription. +This I of course considered as meant only +<pb n="198"/><anchor id="Pg198"/>for the eye of Athanasia; so I kissed the parchment her +fingers were destined to touch, and, before I began to +read, restored it to its receptacle. +</p> + +<p> +More than one of you, my young friends, have already +heard me speak, on another occasion, of the impression +which that night’s reading made upon my mind, and +been told, from my own lips, what book it was that was +contained in the scroll of Tisias; the rest of you will +judge for yourselves with what astonishment it was that +I, who had at the best expected to unfold some obscure +treatise of Asiatic lore, some semi-barbarous exposition +of mystical riddles, found myself engaged in the perusal +of a plain and perspicuous narrative of facts, written +evidently by a man of accomplishment and learning, +and in Greek of which the most elegant penman of +these times could have had no occasion to be ashamed. +In a word, it was the Gospel of the holy physician St +Luke which had been put into my hands; and at this +day I am still grateful that this was the first of the +Christian books which I had an opportunity of seeing; +for such had been my education, that I am afraid others, +not less worthy of the true faith, might have repelled +me by the peculiarities of their composition, as well +as by the acquaintance with many things, to me then +entirely unknown, which they take for granted in the +style of their commencement. Here, however, there +was enough only of mystery, the more effectually to +stimulate my curiosity, while the eagerness with which +I engaged myself in its gratification, was abundantly +repaid from the beginning, both by the beauty of the +simple narrative itself, and the sublimity of the conceptions +embodied and evolved in its course. +</p> + +<pb n="199"/><anchor id="Pg199"/> + +<p> +Considering the book which I was reading, as one +merely of human origin and invention, I could not help +regarding it with such admiration, that it appeared to +me above all things wonderful, I had never seen it +mentioned by any of the writers of the age, or heard it +spoken of by any of those who, in my presence, since +I came to Rome, had talked concerning the faith and +doctrines of the persecuted Christians. But this was +not all. At least, said I to myself, there is something +here which deserves to be inquired into and examined. +Of things such as these, if told falsely, it must needs +have been—nay, it must still be, easy to prove the +falsehood. It is impossible that, in the days of Tiberius, +any such events should have occurred in Palestine, +without being more or less submitted to the inspection +of Roman eyes. This is no wild tale, handed down +from the dark ages of a barbarous race. Here I have +a Roman Centurion described as among the witnesses +of this man’s miraculous power, and acknowledging +the divinity of his benevolence. Here, at least, must +have been one spectator without prejudices, otherwise +than against this Prophet of Nazareth. Of a surety, the +legends of Rome herself contain many tales which +demand a much greater measure of indulgence; since +the wonders they narrate appear to have been oftentimes +attended with no beneficial consequences, either +to individuals or to the state; whereas here the occasion +seems always to have been such as might justify the +interference of supernatural might. The power of this +person seems to have been exerted only for good; and +his precepts are full of such godlike loftiness as neither +Socrates, nor Plato, nor any of those Greek sages, who +<pb n="200"/><anchor id="Pg200"/>bowed in reverence to the hoary wisdom of Egypt and +India, would have disdained to admire. +</p> + +<p> +The doubts, suspicions, and distrusts, with which +such thoughts were mingled,—the under-current of +reluctance with which I felt myself all along contending,—were +such as you may more easily imagine than +I can describe. +</p> + +<p> +As the narrative went on, however, you will have no +difficulty in supposing that my attention became more +and more rivetted, and that, occupied with the strange +events and sublime scenes it unfolds—and agitated by +turns with the pity, the wonder, the terror, and the +admiration that matchless story must ever awaken,—I +had forgotten every thing beyond the page of the +volume on which my finger was fixed. +</p> + +<p> +It was only the rustling of Dromo’s cloak against the +edge of my chair, that made me aware my privacy was +disturbed. His hands seemed to be busied in tightening +his girdle even before he was able to speak, and +the first words he uttered, were—<q>Come, sir—this is +no time for study. I have acquaintance with some of +the soldiers at the Capene Gate, and they will let us +pass through; but they are relieved at the next watch, +and then we shall have no chance.</q>—<q>And why,</q> said +I, hastily thrusting the scroll into my bosom—<q>why, +Dromo, or for what purpose should we desire to pass +through the Capene Gate at the dead hour of night?</q>—<q>Come,</q> +said he; <q>there is no time for explanation. +It is simply because it is the dead hour of night that +we must pass through the gate; for it would do nobody +any good to pass through at any other time. Come—or +abandon Sextus to his fate.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="201"/><anchor id="Pg201"/> + +<p> +Thus adjured, I could not oppose any obstacle to his +zeal. The chained porter was lying asleep across the +threshold; but Dromo had already found means to have +the door opened, so he leaped lightly over the man, and +I imitated his agility. The Cretan then locked the +gate on the outside, by means of a key which he carried +in his bosom; and I followed his rapid steps without +farther question. +</p> + +<p> +This cunning varlet, (who seemed, indeed, to move +as if he had a natural aversion to every open place,) +threaded one obscure lane after another, keeping always, +where the moonlight had any access, to the dark side +of the way; a person better skilled than myself might +well have been somewhat puzzled; as for me, I had +not the least conception whither I was going. Close, +however, did I adhere to him; and we reached the +Capene Port, which is on the south side of the city, not +many bow-shots from the Anio, before I could have +imagined it possible to traverse so great a space. +</p> + +<p> +Here Dromo told me to wait for him a single moment, +and stepped down into a cellar, in which a light was +burning; but he staid not long, and when he returned +to me, I observed that his style of walking was more +clumsy than usual, which, indeed, was not to be wondered +at, considering that he had now to carry, not +only himself, but two huge skins of wine, intended, as +I at once suspected, for the purpose of facilitating our +passage. I told him my suspicion in a whisper; but +he made no answer, except by handing to me one of +his burdens. So laden, we crept on as well as we could +to the portal, beneath the shadow of which two Prætorians +were pacing, their armour ringing audibly upon +<pb n="202"/><anchor id="Pg202"/>them amidst the silence of the night.—Silently did the +well-oiled hinges turn, and very silently stooping did +we step beneath the lintel of the Capene Gate, which +as silently was again made fast. +</p> + +<p> +As we advanced among the funereal monuments +which line the Appian Way on either side, Dromo stood +still every now and then for a moment, as if to listen; +but whatever he might have heard, or expected to hear, +I perceived nothing, except here and there the howl of a +dog, or the lazy hooting of the night-owl, from the top +of some of the old cypresses that rose between us and +the moon. +</p> + +<p> +At last he seemed to catch the sound he had been +expecting, for he started suddenly; and laying his +finger on his lip, crept to the parapet. +</p> + +<p> +The ground behind was more desolate of aspect than +any part of that which we had traversed—stoney and +hard, with here and there tufts of withered fern; and +immediately below the wall two human figures were +visible. The one was sitting on the ground, wrapped +in a dark cloak which entirely concealed the countenance: +the other was a half-naked boy, holding in +a string a little new-shorn lamb, which with one of +his hands he continually caressed. But forthwith the +sitter arose, and throwing away the cloak, displayed +the gray tangled tresses of an old woman, and two +strong boney arms, one of which was stretched forth +with an impatient gesture towards the stripling, while +the other was pointed upwards to the visible moon. +<q>Strike,</q> said she, <q>strike deeply—beware lest the +blood tinge your feet or your hands;</q>—and I recognized +at once the voice of the same Pona that had +<pb n="203"/><anchor id="Pg203"/>attracted my notice in the morning, at the foot of the +Palatine. +</p> + +<p> +The boy drew forth instantly a knife from his bosom, +whose glittering blade was buried in the throat of the +yearling, and it was then first that I perceived a small +ditch dug between the boy and the woman, into which, +the lamb’s throat being held over it, the blood was +made to drop from the wound. So surely had the blow +been given, that not one bleat escaped from the animal, +and so deeply, that the blood flowed in a strong stream, +dashing audibly upon the bottom of the trench. And +while it was dropping, the old woman muttering a sort +of chant to Hecate, as I gathered, showered from her +girdle I know not what of bones or sticks, mingled +with leaves and roots, which afterwards she seemed to +be stirring about in the blood with one of the tall +strong stems of the fern that grew there. The wildness +of her gestures was such, that I could not doubt she had +herself some faith in the efficacy of the foul charms to +which she had resorted; nor could I see her stirring +that trench of innocent blood, without remembering +the still more ruthless charms, whose practice the poets +of Italy have ascribed to such hoary enchantresses. The +dreariness of the midnight wind, too, as it whistled +along the bare and steril soil around us, and the perpetual +variations in the light, by reason of the careering +of those innumerable clouds, and the remembrance of +the funereal purposes for which, as it seemed, all this +region was set apart—the whole of this together produced, +I know not how, a certain pressure upon my +spirits, and I confess to you, I felt, kneeling there by the +side of my now trembling Cretan, as if I owed him no +<pb n="204"/><anchor id="Pg204"/>great thanks for having brought me that night beyond +the Capene Gate. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed as if the goddess, to whom the witch’s song +had been addressed, did not listen to it with favourable +ear; for the clouds gathered themselves more thickly +than ever, while the wind howled only more loudly +among the tombs, and the half-scared owl sent up a +feebler hooting. Notwithstanding, the old woman continued +fixed in the same attitude of expectation, and +the stripling still held the well-nigh drained throat of +his lamb above the trench. By degrees, however, the +patience of both seemed to be exhausted; and there +arose between them an angry altercation. <q>Infernal +brat of Hades!</q> quoth the witch, <q>look ye, if you have +not stained your filthy hands, and if the thirsty shadows +be not incensed, because you have deprived them of +some of the sweet blood which they love!</q>—<q>Curse +not me, mother,</q> replied the boy—<q>Did you think, +in truth, that the blood of a stolen lamb would ever +propitiate Hecate?</q>—<q>Imp!</q> quoth she, <q>Hold thy +peace, or I will try whether no other blood may make +the charm work better!</q>—<q>Beware!</q> quoth the boy, +leaping backwards—<q>beware what you do! I am no +longer so weak that I must bear all your blows.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Stop,</q> cried I, <q>for there are eyes that you think +not of, to take note of your wickedness;</q> and in my +vehemence I shook one of the great loose stones that +were on the top of the wall, which rolled down and +bounded into the ditch beside them; and the woman, +huddling her cloak over her head, began to run swiftly +away from us, along the wall over which we were +leaning. The boy only stood still for a moment, and +<pb n="205"/><anchor id="Pg205"/>looked upwards towards the place where we were, and +then he also fled, but in the opposite direction; and +Dromo said to me in a very piteous whisper, but not +till both were out of sight,—<q>Heaven and earth! was +ever such madness as to scare the witch from her incantation? +Alas! for you and for me, sir—and, most of +all, alas for Sextus—for I fear me after this we shall +have no luck in counteracting the designs of Rubellia.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Rubellia! what? can you possibly imagine Rubellia +to have any thing to do with this madness?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Imagine?</q> quoth he; <q>do you need to be told, +that if things had gone well with that woman and +her ditch, we should never have been able to preserve +Sextus from her clutches?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>By the rod of Hermes, good Dromo!</q> said I, <q>this +will never do. I shall believe much on your credit, but +not things quite so extravagant as this.</q> +</p> + +<p> +He made no reply save a long, incredulous, and, I +think, contemptuous whistle, which seemed to reach +the ears of every owl between us and the Appian; with +such a hooting and screeching did they echo its note +from every cypress. And when Dromo heard that doleful +concert, his dread redoubled within him, for he +shook from head to foot, while I held his arm in mine; +until, at last, he seemed to make one violent effort, and +springing on his feet, said—<q>Come, Master Valerius, +let us behave after all like men!</q>—I smiled when he +said so—<q>The hour has not yet come, if my Calabrian +friend is to be trusted, at which the lady was to visit +Pona in her dwelling. It is but daring a little more. +If she has seen and known us already, then nothing can +endanger us farther; and if she hath not, we may +<pb n="206"/><anchor id="Pg206"/>escape again.</q>—<q>Well spoken,</q> said I, <q>most shrewd +Dromo, and like yourself; but what is it that you would +have us to do?</q>—<q>The first thing,</q> he replied, <q>is +what has already been too long delayed.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Cretan produced from under his cloak a long +fictitious beard, which he immediately proceeded to fix +upon his own face with a string. A thin tall cap of +black cloth was next brought forth, which he fastened +in like manner around his brows; and a little piece of +chalk, with which he once or twice rubbed over his +black bushy eye-brows, completed a disguise beneath +which I should certainly have sought in vain to discover +any trace of the natural countenance of Dromo. In +short, after a few changes in the folding of his cloak, +there stood before me a figure so venerably mysterious, +that had I met it unawares at midnight, in the neighbourhood +of so many tombs, I am not sure, although of +no superstitious temper, that I could have regarded it +without awe. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Come now, good Master,</q> quoth he, <q>you are taller +than I, pluck me a branch from the nearest tree, +and I think you shall confess I make a decent Soothsayer.</q> +In this it was easy to gratify him; for there +was an old willow just a few yards off, and its boughs +were so dry with age, that I soon abstracted a very +proper wand for him. After receiving which, he stood +for a moment leaning on it in a dignified fashion, +as if to rehearse an attitude worthy of his new vocation; +and then said—<q>Well, sir, I think if the Lady +Rubellia comes now, we shall be tolerably prepared for +her. But I have no disguise for you; therefore, the +moment you hear a footstep, be sure you wrap your +<pb n="207"/><anchor id="Pg207"/>face in your gown, and stand behind me, for so shall +you best consult both your own concealment, and the +dignity of this Assyrian. There is no other way by +which she can come from the Suburra, therefore we +might stay very well where we are; but I think it +might be still better to await her coming where there +are either tombs or larger trees to cast a shade over our +equipage, in case the moon should take it into her head +to be more kind to us than she was to Pona.</q>—<q>By +all means,</q> said I, <q>most venerable man—and besides, +the wind is rather chilly, therefore I shall be well pleased +to have shelter as well as shade.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You shall have both,</q> quoth he; <q>there is a thick +grove of pines only a little way on. I believe there is +a very grand tomb in the midst of them, in case you +should prefer to sit under it.—By the bye,</q> he continued, +after some little pause, <q>it is odd enough that it should +be so; but I believe it is the very place where all that +race of the Sempronii, to which a certain young damsel +belongs, have been burnt and buried ever since Rome +was a city. You cannot see their tomb yet; but that is +only from the thickness of the trees, some of which are, +I suppose, even older than itself. Now I remember +me, it was just there that they set up two winters ago +the funeral pile of old Caius—I mean the father of the +Lady Athanasia, whom you saw at Capito’s villa. They +are a very noble race, and although none of the richest +now-a-days, there is not a prouder in Rome. I saw +the procession at that old man’s funeral myself, and I +think the images of his ancestors that they carried before +him, would have reached half way from hence to +the Great Road. Grim, dusty figures, I trow they were; +<pb n="208"/><anchor id="Pg208"/>but I doubt not there had been many a haughty captain +among them when they were alive.</q> +</p> + +<p> +These words were spoken as we were moving onwards +towards this same grove of pines, and before he had +made an end of speaking, we could clearly hear the +wind sighing among their branches, and along the dry +underground. And on coming to them I found that he +had said truly there was a tomb in the midst of them, +for a very noble, high, circular tower was indeed there, +which, from the grayness of its walls, and luxuriance +of ivy, had the appearance of being at least as ancient +as any of the surrounding trees. The only method of +access to the inside, seemed to be by means of a winding +stair, which rose on the exterior from the ground to +the summit—a method not unusual in Roman sepulchres—and +it was on one of the steps of this stair that +I seated myself, where, between the shaded wall on +the one side, and the pine branches on the other, I +was effectually concealed. As for Dromo, I know not +whether it was that he coveted not exactly such close +proximity to the stones of such an edifice; but instead +of ascending with me, he took up a position beside one +of the largest pines over against me. +</p> + +<p> +Although the moon had got rid of her clouds, and the +sky, where any of it could be seen, was abundantly +brilliant, the natural darkness of that funereal grove +was such, that very little difference could be produced +in the midst of it by any variation on the face of any +nightly luminary. The tower itself received some of +the moonbeams on its carved surface; but its contemporary +trees participated not in any such illumination,—one +solemn shade covering all things beneath the +<pb n="209"/><anchor id="Pg209"/>influence of their growth. <q>I can scarcely see you, +Dromo,</q> said I; <q>but I think that speck must be your +beard, and if so, I beg you would tell me what it is you +really have in view by all this preparation? Do you +expect me to stay here on a tomb-stone all night, +merely because you wish to have an opportunity of +terrifying poor Rubellia by some ghost-like howl or +other when she passes you?—which, by the way, it +seems by no means certain she will do at all. Or what +is your purpose?</q>—<q>Hush!</q> was his answer; <q>ask +no questions, but hem thrice if you hear a footstep—for +young ears are the keenest.</q> Accordingly silence +was kept so strictly, that, in spite of the chillness of +the stone on which I sate, I presently fell into a sort of +dozing slumber. +</p> + +<p> +By degrees, however,—nor, considering the hour and +the fatigue I had undergone, is it wonderful that it +should have been so,—my sleep must have become sufficiently +profound, for I did not at first, on waking from +it, very well remember either where I was, or for what +purpose I had come thither. And, indeed, I have little +doubt my slumbers might have continued till day-break, +but for the interruption I am now to mention. +</p> + +<p> +And yet it seemed as if even in my sleep I had been +prepared for this by some strange anticipation, for +although it was a near sound of singing voices that dispelled +my slumbers, and made me start from the stone +on which I had placed myself, I could not help feeling +as if that sound were not altogether new to me;—whether +it were that the half-sensible ear had been +already ministering indistinctly to the dreaming spirit, +or that some purely fantastic prelude had been +vouch<pb n="210"/><anchor id="Pg210"/>safed to the real music. I started up suddenly, that +much is certain, and listened with astonishment, yet +not altogether with such surprise as might have been +expected to attend a transition so hasty from sleep to +waking, and from silence to the near neighbourhood +of sounds at once so strange and so sweet. With +breathless curiosity, nevertheless, with awe, and not +entirely I think without terror, did I listen to the +notes which seemed to ascend out of the habitation +of the noble dead into the nightly air—wild, yet +solemn, as if breathed from the bosom of a stately +repose and a pensive felicity; insomuch, that almost I +persuaded myself I was hearing the forbidden sounds +of another world, and the thought came over me,—yet +almost I think at that moment without farther +disturbing me,—what fearful interpretations the old +poets have affixed to such untimely communion, and +how the superstition of all antiquity has shrunk from +its omen. +</p> + +<p> +My first impulse, after a moment had elapsed, was to +call on Dromo, and I did so, at first in a low whisper, and +then two or three times more loudly—but all equally +in vain, for no answer was returned; and though +I strained my eyes in gazing on the place where I +had last seen him, yet there I could perceive no trace +whatever of any human figure. The moonlight indeed +shewed with more distinctness than before the tall stem +of the old pine-tree against which he had been leaning; +but no motion, nor the least appearance of whiteness, +could either my eyes or my imagination discover there. +I might easily, you will say, have stept across the road, +and entirely satisfied myself; but I know not well +<pb n="211"/><anchor id="Pg211"/>what it was that nailed me to the place where I stood, +and prevented me even from once thinking of doing so. +The calm sepulchral music, my friends, still continued +to stream from the recess of the mausoleum, and painless +awe held me there, as if by a charm incontrollable. +I gazed upwards, and beheld the moon riding above the +black pine tops, in a now serene and cloudless heaven. +The wind also had passed away, as it appeared, with +the clouds it had agitated. The bird of night was asleep +on her unseen bough; and all was silent as death, except +only the dwelling of the departed; and a certain +indescribable delight was beginning, as I gazed and +listened, to be mixed with the perturbation wherewith +at first I had been inspired. +</p> + +<p> +And I know not how long I might have stood so, +but while I was yet listening to this mysterious music, +there was mingled with its expiring cadence the sound +of a heavy footstep on the staircase above me, and looking +up, I perceived in the moonlight the figure of a +man, clad in a white gown, but having a naked sword +stretched forth in his hand, immediately over the place +whereon I was standing. I obeyed the first natural +impulse, and leaped downwards swiftly on seeing him; +but this availed me nothing, for he also leaped, and +almost before my feet had touched the ground, I felt +the grasp of his hand upon my shoulder, and that so +strongly, that I perceived plainly there was as little +possibility of escape as of resistance. I made therefore +no farther effort, but suffered him to do with me as he +pleased; and he, on his part, said not a single word, +but still retaining his hold, pointed with his sword to +the same steps from which I had descended, and +com<pb n="212"/><anchor id="Pg212"/>pelled me to mount them before him, up to the very +summit of the round tower. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Why is this, sir?</q> said I; <q>and whither do you +conduct me?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Peace,</q> was all his answer; and, in like manner as +he had made me climb the exterior, so also he compelled +me to begin the descent of a similar flight of steps, +which led down from an aperture above, into the interior +of the edifice. And although I must confess to you +that I obeyed not this silent guidance without considerable +fear, yet I strove as well as I could to control +myself. I moved with a step in which I think not +there could be perceived any trembling. +</p> + +<p> +Yet you will admit that even had I been master at +that moment of less firmness, I might have been excusable; +for looking down, I perceived that a lamp +was burning in the midst of the sepulchral tower far +below me, and saw sitting around it a company of +eight or ten persons, at whose mercy, it was quite visible, +I must be placed. Neither, if I might judge from +the demeanour of the person that was bringing me into +their assembly, did there appear to be any great room +for dependance on them; for, as to themselves, not one +of them looked up towards me as I was stepping down, +and being wrapped in their cloaks, I had no means of +discovering what manner of persons they were. The +way in which I had been treated, however, by one of +their number, was a sufficient evidence, either that +they conceived themselves to have been injured by my +being there, or that they were capable of taking some +undue advantage of my helpless condition. The calmness +of their attitudes, and the recollection of the sounds +<pb n="213"/><anchor id="Pg213"/>that I had heard, inclined me to the former of these +suppositions; and when I perceived that not one of +them stirred, even till I had reached the lowmost step +of the interior staircase, in this, without question, I +already felt myself considerably strengthened. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Behold,</q> said my guide, as I at length touched the +marble floor of the mausoleum itself—<q>Behold proof, +and that living, that my suspicions were not quite so +groundless as you were pleased to imagine. Here is a +man whom I found listening, even on the very steps of +this tower. It is for you to decide what shall be done +with the eaves-dropper.</q> +</p> + +<p> +With this the whole company sprung at once to their +feet, and I perceived evidently, from the surprise expressed +in their looks and attitudes, that until that +moment not one of them had been aware of my +approach. I was about to speak, and declare my innocence +of any treachery, or even of any knowledge concerning +the purpose of their meeting; but before I +could do so, one of them, and I think the oldest of all +that were present, having in an instant recovered the +tranquillity which my arrival had disturbed, said to me +in a voice of the utmost gentleness, <q>Young man, what +has brought thee hither, or who sent thee? Art thou +indeed a spy, and was it thy purpose to betray our +assembly?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Sir,</q> said I, <q>I know nothing of your assembly, or +of its purpose; I fell asleep by accident on the outside +of this tower, and, when I awoke, the music that I +heard detained me.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Examine the stripling,</q> quoth he that had conducted +me—<q>examine his person.</q>—<q>His looks belie +<pb n="214"/><anchor id="Pg214"/>him,</q> replied the senior, <q>if you have cause for suspicion. +But if you will it so, search the young man.</q> +And with that my guide, laying his unsheathed sword +upon a table, or altar of black marble, proceeded to +search my garments, and finding in my bosom the scroll +which I had received from Tisias, he glanced on it for +a moment, and then handing it to the senior, said, +<q>Now, sirs, doubt ye if ye will.</q>—<q>Before heaven—it +is the book of the holy Luke!</q> said the other; <q>this is +indeed suspicious. How came this scroll into thy hands, +young man? Art thou aware that one of the books of +the Christians has been found in thy bosom?</q>—<q>I +know it,</q> said I; <q>it is one of the books of their faith, +and I have read in it this evening for the first time.</q>—<q>Then +thou art not thyself a Christian?</q>—<q>I received +the book from one Christian,</q> said I, waiving the question; +<q>and I made promise to deliver it into the hands +of another?</q>—<q>Name the Christian who gave thee this +book!</q> said my stern guide.—<q>Tisias of Antioch,</q> I +replied; <q>the same who died yesterday in the Amphitheatre.</q>—<q>Yes,</q> +quoth he, again; <q>and I suppose it +was there he gave it to you. Every one knows the +name of Tisias. Name, if you please, the person to +whom you are to deliver the book.</q>—<q>You shall pardon +me,</q> said I, <q>that I will not. You may call me +an eaves-dropper, if you will; but you shall find I am +no traitor. It is a Roman—a noble Roman lady to +whom I must give this book; and I would not tell you +her name although you should slaughter me here in this +tomb, which I have entered living and without guilt.</q> +And having said this, I folded my arms, and stood still, +abiding their will. +</p> + +<pb n="215"/><anchor id="Pg215"/> + +<p> +But scarcely had I finished these words, ere I felt a +small trembling hand laid upon my shoulder, and looking +round, I perceived Athanasia herself, who whispered +into my ear,—<q>Valerius, was the book for me? If so, +you may say it boldly, and I will vouch for your word.</q>—<q>For +you, lady,</q> I answered in the same tone, <q>and +for none other. You well know that I was present in +his prison the night before his death; so far at least +you can confirm what I have said.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Sir,</q> said she, addressing the old man that had +before questioned me, <q>I know this young man: and I +believe what he has said, and will be answerable for his +fidelity. It was he that went in to our friend the other +night in his prison, and the book was intrusted to him +by the old man, that it might be given into my hands. +His name is Valerius—Caius Valerius—and he is by +birth a noble Roman.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Say you so, lady?</q> interrupted my original conductor; +<q>then I ask his pardon. I have wronged Caius +Valerius; but both you and he must forgive me, for it +must be confessed he was found in a very extraordinary +situation.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Even so,</q> I replied, <q>I have nothing to complain +of. I perceive that I am present in an assembly of +Christians; but he shall do me much wrong that thinks +I bear any enmity to them,—or, from all that I have +yet seen or read, to the faith which they profess. I +have read part of that book,</q> I continued, <q>for I made +promise to Tisias that I should do so before giving it to +Athanasia; and I trust I shall still be permitted by her +to read more of it before it is finally demanded from +me.</q>—<q>Oh, read it!</q> said Athanasia, gently again +whis<pb n="216"/><anchor id="Pg216"/>pering to me. <q>Oh yes, read the book, Valerius, and +may God enlighten the reader.</q> And so saying, she +herself took up the scroll from the table on which it +was lying, and gave it again into my hands.—<q>There +was also a letter for you,</q> said I, receiving it, <q>but that +I left at home.</q>—<q>No matter,</q> said Athanasia, <q>you +shall give me the letter and the book both together +hereafter.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>In the meantime,</q> said I, <q>I suppose it were better +I should retire.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Young sir,</q> said the senior, <q>that is as you please; +in a little while we shall all be moving towards the city. +Stay with us till then, if such be your will; that which +you may hear, can at least do you no harm. Already, +I doubt not, you have seen enough to despise the ignorant +calumnies of our enemies.</q> +</p> + +<p> +When he had said so, the old man walked to the +side of the sepulchre, and took out from behind one +of the urns that stood there, (ranged in their niches,) +a small casquet, which, returning, he placed before him +on the marble table. Then, opening the casquet, he +brought forth a silver goblet, and a salver containing +some little pieces of bread; and, untying from his neck +a massive cross of gold, he set that also on the table, +between the cup and the salver. In brief, the Christian +priest, (for such, as you already see, he was,) had +finished his preparation, and was about to commence +the administration of the blessed Eucharist. And when +all the rest were kneeling before the table, Athanasia, +laying her hand upon my arm, beckoned to me to +kneel by her side; and so indeed I would have done +in my ignorance, had not the priest himself pointed to +<pb n="217"/><anchor id="Pg217"/>a station a few yards behind the lady, to which, accordingly, +I drew back—apart from those who were to be +privileged with the participation of those holy symbols. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had they composed themselves in their +places, and listened to the first words of the appointed +service, when I, standing there by myself, thought, +unless my ears deceived me, there must be some one +on the outer stair-case of the tower; and my eyes instinctively, +I suppose, were fixed upon the aperture, +which, as I have told you, was in the high roof above +the circle of the niched walls. Here, however, when I +first looked, there was nothing to be seen, but the round +spot of the sky, far up in the midst of the marble roof; +but while I was looking steadfastly, that space was +suddenly diminished; and a dog bayed, and at the +same moment a voice which I well knew, screamed, <q>I +have them—I hold them—let them burst the net if +they can.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The cry of Pona disturbed effectually the Christian +priest, and the whole of those that were with him. +Rising up hastily from their knees, they stood all +together around the table, while the old man, having +kissed both the cup and the cross, restored them as +quickly as he could to the casket from which they +had been taken. But while the priest was doing this, +he that found me on the stair appearing to revert +into his suspicion, and looking sternly upon me where +I stood, said, <q>Is this then the innocence which we +spared! Is this the noble Roman for whom Athanasia +pledged herself? Speak, brethren, what shall be done +to this traitor, by whom, even more than by those dogs +of the tombs, it is a shame for us that we have been +<pb n="218"/><anchor id="Pg218"/>hunted?</q> Saying so, the man lifted up his sword again, +and it seemed as if he would have smitten me to the +ground without farther question. But Athanasia threw +herself swiftly between him and me. <q>For shame, +Cotilius,</q> said she; <q>such suspiciousness is unworthy +of a Roman knight.</q>—<q>You say well, noble damsel,</q> +quoth the old priest, interrupting her; <q>but you might +say also that such cruelty is unworthy of a soldier of +Christ. Peace, peace, children; there is no evil in the +youth, nor, if there were, would it be our part to +avenge it.</q> +</p> + +<p> +While he was saying this, three or four blazing +torches were thrust down into the place from above, +and Athanasia, laying her hand upon my arm, said, +<q>Look up, Caius, I see helmets.—Alas! am I not +already here? why, if they will slay me, should they +drag me away now from the tomb of my fathers?</q> I +felt the trembling of her hands, and she leaned upon +my shoulder. I know not, I will confess to you, +whether at that moment I tasted more of pleasure or +of pain. +</p> + +<p> +But by this time several of the soldiers had already +begun to descend into the tower, and before another +minute had elapsed, we found ourselves surrounded by +the flame of their torches. And he that seemed to lead +the party, after counting us one by one, said, turning +to his companions, <q>Well, an old woman has told the +truth for once—here are even more I think than she +warned us of.—Come along, worthy people, you must +not keep the Tribune waiting for you all night, and our +watch is well-nigh expired already. Come, mount the +stair—it will take a good half hour yet, I believe, to +<pb n="219"/><anchor id="Pg219"/>lodge you all safely in the Tullian—And do you,</q> he +added, laying his hand on the hilt of Cotilius’ sword—<q>do +you, brave sir, allow me to save you the trouble +of carrying this bauble.</q> Nor was the stern knight so +foolish as to dispute the command; but having yielded +up his sword, he forthwith began to ascend, one or two +spearmen preceding him with their torches. The priest +followed, and so did the rest; the last being Athanasia +and myself. +</p> + +<p> +On every side around the old tower, when I looked +from the summit of it, I perceived foot soldiers drawn +up in a double line, while the road along which I had +come with Dromo, was occupied by a band of horsemen, +one of whom moved forward when he saw us descending, +as if to take cognizance of the number and quality +of the surprised assembly. His long cloak being muffled +about his ears as he sate, and the shadow of his helmet +falling deeply, I did not at first suspect who it was; +but he had not counted half the party to the superior +Officer behind him, ere I recognized him from the sound +of his voice; and who, think ye, should it be but my +good friend Sabinus? +</p> + +<p> +The Centurion, when his eye detected me, checked +his horse so sharply that the animal bounded into the +air; and, <q>Valerius!</q> quoth he, <q>ha! by the life of +Cæsar, what is the meaning of this? Valerius in a +Christian synagogue! By all the gods, there must be +some mistake.</q> But before I, in my confusion, could +make any answer to these exclamations, his eye chanced +to glance on Athanasia, who, trembling, still retained +the support of my arm; whereupon, <q>Ha! ha!</q> said +he, in a quite different tone of voice, <q>there is a lady in +<pb n="220"/><anchor id="Pg220"/>the case.</q> And then, stooping in his seat, he whispered, +half laughing, into my ear, <q>My most hypocritical +smooth-face, you shall see what is the consequence of +bringing these transatlantic pranks of yours to Rome. +By Hercules, you wild dog, it may cost you some little +trouble to get out of this scrape.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Having said so, he turned his horse, and rejoining +the troop, appeared to enter into close conversation with +him who sate at the head of the line. Of what my +friend said, I could catch nothing more than certain +vehement oaths, while, all the time, the Tribune (for +such he was) continued to shake his head, in a way +significant at once of doubt and determination. The +end was, that he pointed with his sword; and Sabinus +forced his horse backwards, at one plunge, into the place +from which he had advanced. +</p> + +<p> +Our party were immediately separated one from +another. I saw the priest lifted on a mule and hurried +away towards the city, with a horseman on each hand +of him. The fiery Cotilius, and one or two more, were +compelled to follow, with similar attendance, in the +same direction; others, again, had their horses’ heads +turned more to the westward—but all departed at speed, +and were soon lost to my view among the projections +of the tombs. The last that remained to be disposed +of were Athanasia and myself, and for a moment I +had some hope that we might perhaps be intrusted +to the same guards; but this hope was in vain, and +after I perceived that it was so, scarcely even was time +permitted to me for bidding her farewell. To kiss her +hand, and to whisper a single word of parting hope into +her ear, was all I could do. A tear rolled from her +<pb n="221"/><anchor id="Pg221"/>cheek and fell upon my hand; yet she smiled faintly +upon me, and <q>Hope,</q> said she—<q>yes, dear Valerius, +Hope and Faith both go with me.</q> And with that the +pale maiden was separated from the arm to which she +had trusted, and I saw her also mounted and borne +away rapidly. A moment after, I found myself, in +like manner, seized and lifted upon a horse, and almost +before I could look around me, we had escaped from +the flare of the torches, and the crowd of the soldiery, +and were stretching at a rapid pace, I knew not whither, +although I suspected, from the width of the road, that +we had regained the Appian. +</p> + +<p> +But I have forgotten to mention to you, that just at +the moment when they were lifting Athanasia upon the +mule that was to bear her from my sight, my eye caught +a glimpse of the witch Pona, who was sitting at the root +of one of the pine-trees, close to the tower. And behind +her stood, leaning against the tree, a figure wrapped in +a rich red cloak, which I suspected to be a female also, +but could not be certain, because the countenance +was concealed in the folds of the garment. To this +person, whoever it might be, the witch turned round +eagerly, while the soldiers were carrying off Athanasia. +I saw no more, for, as I have told you, immediately +afterwards I also was carried away. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="6" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="222"/><anchor id="Pg222"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter VI"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter VI"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER VI.</hi></head> + +<p> +Our hasty pace had not borne us to any great distance +from the place where all these things occurred, ere the +sky, which, as ye have heard, had all that night been +sufficiently variable, began to exhibit appearances +which my two companions interpreted as significant of +the approach of one of those nocturnal storms, to which, +at that season of the year, the fair heaven of Italy is +peculiarly subject. That they apprehended somewhat +of this sort, I perceived from their looks, as they stopped +for a moment to draw the hoods of their mantles over +their brazen helmets; for words they uttered none, either +to me or to each other, until our journey drew near +its close. For me, however, the numberless agitations +through which I had passed in the course of the few +preceding hours, had, I suppose, communicated an unnatural +measure of ardour to my boyish blood; for +neither did I feel the night-breeze chill me as we rushed +through it, nor partook, in any sort, of the desire my +companions testified to cover themselves from the rain, +which seemed to be about to discharge itself out of all +those black and lowering clouds now gathered above +our heads from every region of the heavens. When, on +the contrary, the first heavy drops fell, I bared my +<pb n="223"/><anchor id="Pg223"/>forehead with the eagerness of one who, in a parched +region, comes suddenly upon the margin of a well-spring. +Nor did this sensation subside even after the storm had +thickened to the utmost, and the dusty roads had drunk +abundantly of the plashing rain. The strong wind blew +with redoubled coolness upon my moistened neck—the +rain-drops dashed on my hot hands; and I perceived, +that, as is the nature of those animals, the thunder +which was mustering in the air, filled my horse one +moment with dread, and the next with a blind fierceness. +At last the thunder shouted over-head, and its +echoes spread wide and far on either side, until they +seemed to be absorbed to the left in the remote depths +of the Appenine, and on the right hand in the measureless +bosom of the Western Sea—of which, as we +galloped along the hill side, the broad lightning (unless +my fancy deceived me) revealed ever and anon a +distant and melancholy glimpse. +</p> + +<p> +We had passed a hill covered with towns, villages, +and stately mansions, (which I afterwards learned was +no other than the famous Alban,) ere the storm subsided +beneath the influence of the reddening dawn. +Yet even then we slackened not our pace, although the +horses were by this time not a little exhausted with the +swiftness of their motion, and the weight of their wet +riders. On rode we in the growing light of the morning; +but I perceived ere long that we had left the wide and +magnificent Appian Way, and were pursuing the line +of a narrower road, which seemed to carry us more and +more westward. +</p> + +<p> +We halted for a moment on the brow of a declivity, +where three paths separated; and I perceived that +<pb n="224"/><anchor id="Pg224"/>among my guides there was some little uncertainty as +to which of these it behoved them to follow. While +they were muttering together, I looked and beheld at +length the wide sea heaving far below, over what appeared +to me to be a forest as mighty as I had ever seen +in my native island. +</p> + +<p> +Old hoary oaks leaned on either hand quite over the +narrow path-way, into which (after their brief pause of +consultation) my conductors directed our course. Here +and there, such a shield had those huge leafy boughs +extended over the road, that the dust rose from amongst +the feet of our horses as if all that night not one drop +of rain had fallen there; although elsewhere, in the +absence of such mighty trees, the water lying across the +path in pools testified abundantly that the tempest had +not spared the forest any more than the champaign. +Vast waving gulfs of bay and ilex, with here and there +some solitary pine raising itself proudly in the midst, +seemed to stretch away on either hand between the +groves of those gigantic oaks. +</p> + +<p> +The path we followed carried us ever deeper and +deeper into the bosom of the woods; and, at length, so +buried were we in the windings of their stifling shade, +that I had lost all notion of the direction in which I +was moving; until, after two or three hot hours, weary +man and jaded horse were, I believe, equally delighted +with snuffing once more the open current of the air. +We reached not the edge of the forest, however, before +I could hear distinctly the dashing of the Mediterranean +waves; and the last ascent we climbed laid open to my +view a long sweep of the rolling waters, and their rocky +coast garnished every where with the richness of +super<pb n="225"/><anchor id="Pg225"/>incumbent woods. Far, very far, in the distant north, +I thought I could recognize some of the stately towers +of Ostium, bosomed apparently within the billows over +which they presided. All between was one wide waste +of wood and rock, save here and there a watch-tower +perched on the margin, and whitened half-way up with +the foam of the yet uncalmed sea. +</p> + +<p> +Then, nor ever could I look upon the waters of the +great deep, without something of that filial yearning +which seems so natural to every native of our sea-girt +island. But neither could I contrast the condition in +which I now approached it, with the gay and hopeful +mood in which I had so lately left it behind me, +without many thoughts more sad and serious than as +yet had frequently visited my bosom. What a strange +brood of visions had passed before my eyes, since, but a +few days before, I stept for the first time, light of heart, +beneath the shadow of those far-off bulwarks! What +new emotions had arisen, in the interval! How had +every sense been gratified! how had every dream of +imagination been exceeded! Yet what a void had been +revealed within!—Alas! said I to myself, why is it +that I have been subjected to all these novelties? Had +I not done better to have remained, after all, where life +flowed ever calmly—where affection hung over me like +a protecting buckler, and my soul could sleep in the +security of unbroken faith! But this was only for a +moment. The thoughts of Athanasia haunted me more +deeply and more firmly. I thought over every word she +had spoken—every look of hers rose up in succession, +with all the vividness of a beautiful and a troubled dream. +I seemed to feel, as if she were yet present beside me, +<pb n="226"/><anchor id="Pg226"/>the trembling of her pale fingers upon my shoulder—I +kissed the hand on which her parting tear had fallen, as +if it were yet wet with the dear moisture. When I +thought of the perils in which she must now be enveloped—of +the pains she must have suffered—must at +that moment be suffering,—it was as if I could have +burst bands of iron, like flax, from off my hands. +When a glimpse of the darker future opened before me, +I shuddered, and, urging my poor horse onwards in the +recklessness of total abstraction, I perceived that even +my guides pitied the agony of my despair. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="7" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="227"/><anchor id="Pg227"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter VII"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter VII"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER VII.</hi></head> + +<p> +We stopped before one of the watch-towers which, +as I have told you, I had seen scattered along the edge +of the sea. But this, when we came up to it, appeared +larger than I had expected to find any of them. The +narrow way, alongst which we had been riding, brought +us close to its gate, on the side towards the land; but +the rock shelving rapidly on the other side, gave it the +semblance, at a little distance, of being suspended over +the waves. +</p> + +<p> +It was a building of rude, and apparently very antique +structure, the under part square, but the upper circular; +as is, for the most part, the old Roman fashion in such +erections. And this, indeed, I doubt not, might have +stood there long enough to have shewn a beacon, when +some fleet of Syracuse or Carthage darkened the blue sea +over against the Lestrigonian bay renowned in old song, +or the snow-white promontory of Gaieta. +</p> + +<p> +One of the soldiers dismounted, and began to knock +rather violently at the door; but some little time elapsed +ere any sound from within responded to the clamour +he raised. At last a hard and withered face made its +appearance at a little opening above the door, and then +the helmets passed, I suppose, for a sufficient warrant, +for in a twinkling we heard the bolts creaking; the old +<pb n="228"/><anchor id="Pg228"/>postern was soon set ajar, and forth stepped the venerable +keeper. Imagine a tall, skinny man of threescore +years, with a face as dry and yellow as ye have seen on +the outside of a pye, and hair as white as ever the skill +of a confectioner could represent, and legs bearing the +same proportion to the feet, which the shaft of Saturn’s +scythe usually does to its blade. Clothe the nether part +of this figure in Dacian, or Gaulish breeches, throw a +somewhat threadbare cloak over his shoulders, and to +finish the outfit, deck his head with a casque of the +Macedonian cut, that is to say, sitting close above the +ears, and topped with a bristling plume of horse hair. +The Warder stood with dignity, and listened with +gravity, while one of my Prætorians whispered his +message. On its conclusion, he shrugged his shoulders, +and regarding me with a glance made up, I think, in +pretty equal proportions, of surprise and contempt, +signified by the motion of his hand that we might all +three enter. He whistled at the same moment, and +there came forth a comely damsel, who, with many +blushes and smiles, took possession of the reins of our +horses.—<q>Stand there,</q> quoth he, <q>stand there, little +Cestia, and see if there be never a handful of corn to be +got for the prince’s cattle,—stand there, and we shall +be with you again anon.</q> And then he also whispered +something into the maiden’s ear, and I saw her looking +at me from under her eyelids with an expression of very +uncommon curiosity. Two or three curly-pated urchins, +of different sizes, joined her at the same moment, and +to them, in her turn, the maiden whispered; whereupon +the eldest of the children retreating behind her, eyed +me earnestly along the skirt of her tunic, while the +<pb n="229"/><anchor id="Pg229"/>younger ones continued to gaze where they were, with +looks of open stupidity and wonder. Of all this I could +make nothing at the moment, but when we had got +fairly into the inside of the tower, I heard the children +whispering to each other, <q>A Christian! A Christian! +A Jew! A Jew!</q> +</p> + +<p> +The lower part of the tower, into which I had now +been conducted, seemed to form nothing more than one +huge, bare, and quadrangular apartment, serving, I supposed +(and rightly) at once as hall and vestibule to the +upper chambers contained within the walls. A small +flight of steps, in one of the corners, seemed to afford +the only means of access to what was above; but from +the position of a door immediately below these, it was +we inferred that there were vaults under ground. +Close beside this door there stood, upon a very rude +pedestal, a still more rude bust, either of Jupiter, of +Apollo, or of Hercules. The workmanship was such, +that I could not be very certain which of the family it +was intended to represent, nor whether the principal +appendage was a club, a lyre, a bow, or a thunder-bolt; +but it did not escape my observation, that the old keeper +crept as close as he could to the sacred stone, as soon as +I stepped over the threshold. +</p> + +<p> +One of the little boys that had come out to the door +on our arrival, busied himself in setting forth a wooden +board, whereon he placed in great order a huge piece of +yellow cheese, and a heap of crisp white cakes of rye. +A large jug of water also garnished the mess; but there +seemed to be a little less of diligence, or more of difficulty, +about the wine. After some pause, however, the +mistress of the garrison appeared. A string of amber +<pb n="230"/><anchor id="Pg230"/>beads floated to and fro on the ocean of her bosom. She +had fine golden bracelets on her arms too, but they were +only half seen, being almost buried in fat; and she wore +a flaxen wig, which did not entirely conceal the dark +bristles below. At the girdle of the amazon hung, on +the right side, the much desiderated bunch of keys, +being balanced on the left by a dagger and toothpick +case, almost of equal dimensions. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Will <hi rend="italic">you</hi> drink to Cæsar, young man?</q> cried the +matron, ere the sitting had been much prolonged; <q>will +you drink honestly to the Emperor, in case you also +have a full cup given you? and, by the by, I think you +must have almost as much need of it as the rest.</q> +And, with this courteous invitation, I heard her whisper +to one of my guards,—<q>By Jove, ’tis a proper lad, +after all; is this true that they have told me of him? +Why, I believe, the young man has a red edge to his +gown. What is his name? who is he?</q>—I heard him +answer,—<q>By the life of Cæsar, you know as much +about him as any of us. There was a whole cluster +taken last night a little way beyond the Capene-Gate, +and he was one; but what they were about, or who he +is, I know not, only he is certainly somebody, for I saw +our Centurion salute him.</q>—<q>I saw him with Sabinus,</q> +whispered the other—<q>I am quite sure of it, the last +day the Amphitheatre was open; they sate together, +and appeared familiar.</q>—<q>I pray you, sir,</q> quoth the +lady, raising her voice,—<q>I pray you fill your cup, and +here I pledge you to our better acquaintance. You +shake your head—well. But what must be, must; +and while you are with us, we may at least be good +friends.</q>—<q>Thanks,</q> said I, complying with her +com<pb n="231"/><anchor id="Pg231"/>mand; <q>Here, then, is health to all present; and fair +health to the great Trajan, says no one here more heartily +than I.</q>—I drank off the wine, and setting down the +goblet, I believe I said, <q>Excellent, by Jove,</q> or something +of that sort; for they all started when they heard +what I said, and the old woman called out lustily, <q>Fill +him another cup to the brim, whether he be Christian +or not. The young man at least swears by the gods, +and drinks to Cæsar.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>The old man,</q> observed one of the soldiers,—<q>he +that was killed the other day in the Amphitheatre—he +might have saved his head, even at the last moment, +if he would have done as much.</q>—<q>Well, well,</q> quoth +she again; <q>let every one mind his own matters. +Husband, bring down your book, and let the new-comer +enter his name with his own hand.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Having drained his cup, the keeper rose, and ere long +returned with a musty scroll of parchment, which, having +blown away the dust from it, he presented to me. +I glanced over the record, and found in it the names of +various persons, all apparently entered in their own +handwriting; and most of them, as I could perceive, +bearing date in the troublous reign of Domitian. The +last was that of Marcus Protius Lamontanus, who, as it +seemed, had been set free from his confinement immediately +on the accession of Nerva; and immediately +under this I wrote my own name, with that of my +birthplace. The keeper read, and said, <q>So preserve +me the power of Jove! A Valerius! and born in +Britain! Can you be the son of the same Valerius who +was Centurion in the ninth legion under Agricola?</q>—<q>You +have guessed rightly—I am the same.</q>—<q>Then +<pb n="232"/><anchor id="Pg232"/>the more is the pity,</q> he replied, in a grave voice, +<q>that you should have entered, in such a case as this, +the dwelling of one that was a true soldier beneath the +eagle of your father. But forgive me if in any thing +we have been disrespectful.</q>—<q>There is no occasion,</q> +said I, <q>for any such apology. I am here as a prisoner, +and have been treated with all courtesy beyond what a +prisoner could expect.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>By Hercules!</q> interrupted the spouse, <q>I thought +I had some knowledge of the face—Well, I hope ten +years hence he will be as fine a man as his father was +the day he slew the Caledonian giant, and tumbled him +from his chariot in front of all the line—yes, in sight +of Galgacus himself. It was the same day,</q> said she, +turning to her lord, <q>that you were taken prisoner, and +driven away into the woods.</q>—<q>As witness these +marks,</q> quoth the man; and with that he stripped open +his tunic, and displayed part of his breast, stamped with +various figures of blue and yellow, after the northern +fashion, and bearing withal the traces of two formidable +wounds. +</p> + +<p> +The woman redoubled her kindness; but not wishing +to interrupt festivity, I soon requested her to shew me +the place where I was to be confined. And, indeed, as +you may imagine, I had by this time not a little need +of repose. +</p> + +<p> +Both she and her husband accordingly rose to usher +me to my prison. I gave money to the soldiers, and +requested them to inform Sabinus of the place to which +I had been conveyed; but did not choose to write any +thing, either to him or to Licinius, until I should have +had a little time for reflection. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="8" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="233"/><anchor id="Pg233"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter VIII"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter VIII"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER VIII.</hi></head> + +<p> +My fatigue brought speedy sleep; and so profound, +that before I again unclosed my eyes, the calm sea was +already purple below me, and the sun about to set. But +neither purple sea, nor golden sky, nor all the divine +tranquillity of the evening air, could sooth my mind into +repose, after I had once awaked to a sense of the situation +into which I had been brought—I should say rather of +the situation in which Athanasia was placed. For myself, +I could not in seriousness fear any calamity worthy of +the name,—if such should come, it must be my business +to wrestle with it as I might. But to think of her, +young, beautiful, innocent; and of all to which she +might be exposed amidst the rude hands in which I had +left her! +</p> + +<p> +Some time had passed before my attention was +attracted by a conversation carried on in the chamber +below me, in which you will not be surprised that I +should have felt myself interested, even although the +distance was such that I could not distinguish one word +that was said. I knew from the first moment that it +was impossible I should be mistaken—I was perfectly +certain it was Sabinus himself, who was talking with +the old woman; and I at once suspected that the worthy +<pb n="234"/><anchor id="Pg234"/>Centurion, having learned from the soldiers who carried +me off, to what place they had conveyed me, had undertaken +this speedy journey, for the purpose of comforting +me in my confinement. The kindness with which he +had treated me from the beginning of our acquaintance +had been such, that I could have no occasion to wonder +at his exerting himself to discover me; but I confess +this alacrity was more than I had been prepared for, +and I waited only for the moment when he should +enter my apartment to throw myself upon his bosom, +and intrust all my troubles to him, as to a friend and +a brother. There was something, however, which I +could not at all comprehend in the merriment which +seemed to be reigning below on his arrival. Peals of +female laughter interrupted the uniform hearty tone of +the Centurion’s voice; and the feeble treble of the old +Warder himself was stretched ever and anon in attempt +at a chuckle. +</p> + +<p> +At last in they came, and Sabinus, embracing me +affectionately, thrust into my hand a piece of parchment, +which I perceived to be nothing less than an +order for my immediate release. Then taking off his +riding-cap, and rubbing with his handkerchief his most +audacious and soldier-looking brows, <q>My dear boy,</q> +quoth he, <q>I see you are going to thank me—but +wound not modesty by fine speeches. There was +war before Helen—have a better care another time, +and don’t pay Rome such a poor compliment, as to say +that you can find nobody to charm you but a Christian +damsel, and no place for flirtation but a gloomy tomb +lined with urns and lachrymatories. My honest friend +here was quite frightened with the idea of having such +<pb n="235"/><anchor id="Pg235"/>an unbelieving reprobate as they said you were, under +the same roof with her children. But now her fears +are dispelled, for good souls are always tolerant to the +little vagaries of young blood; so thank your hostess, +my lad, kiss her hand, take one cup to the hearth of the +old tower, and tighten your girdle.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well!</q> quoth the woman; <q>who should have +thought when the soldiers brought him in with such +mystery, that it was all for kissing by moonlight! I +protest to Venus, they would have made me believe +he had been caught eating an infant; but still I cannot +quite pardon him. Well—well—we must e’en take +good hope he will mend ere he dies.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Die?</q> cried the Centurion; <q>do you talk of dying +to one that has scarcely yet begun to live!—Come, +come, Caius, I hope, after all, you may never get into +a worse scrape.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>And if I do,</q> said I, <q>I hope I shall always be +equally fortunate in my jailers.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>By the beard of Jove!</q> quoth Sabinus, <q>it needs +no great skill to see that you have been fortunate in +that respect. I swear that, if the truth were known, +you are almost as unwilling to leave this tower now, as +you were last night to be torn away from another.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Oh, Master Kæso,</q> quoth she again, <q>when will +you have done with your joking? Well, your father +loved a jest in his time himself; but now he, I suppose, +is quiet enough. And he, good old man, how does he +wear?—Can he still sit in his porch of a fine morning, +and listen to the news, as he used to do, with his cup +at his knee?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I trust the old grasshopper can still chirp when the +<pb n="236"/><anchor id="Pg236"/>sun shines. But to tell you the truth, it is long since +I have seen him; and if this young blade has no objection, +I mean to pay him a visit this very night. I am +only just come home from Britain, and have not yet +had leisure to salute my Lares.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I said something about being anxious to return as +soon as possible to Rome; but the Centurion answered +me with another shout, <q>Come, come; she’s safe +enough. I suppose you think every one gets out of jail +as easily as yourself.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I found it was out of the question to disapprove of +any of the schemes of Sabinus; so, having saluted the +hostess, and flung my purse to her children, (who, +by the way, still regarded me with looks of apprehension,) +I accompanied him with a good grace to the gate. +I made inquiry before I went forth concerning the old +jailer likewise; but I could easily gather from the expression +of face with which his wife accompanied her +indistinct reply, that he had, long before that time, +reached a state in which she felt little desire to exhibit +him. The Centurion whistled as he stepped across the +threshold, and there forthwith drew near a soldier, +wearing the Prætorian helmet, (now sufficiently familiar +to my sight,) and leading in his hand three horses. +In the rear, I recognized, not without satisfaction, the +busy countenance of my friend Dromo, whose ass did +not appear quite so eager to join the party as its rider. +A few sturdy thumps, however, at last brought the +Cretan close to us, who saluted me with great appearance +of joy, and then whispered into my ear, <q>Great +Jove! we must keep silence for the present. What a +story I have to tell; and I suppose there is one to hear +<pb n="237"/><anchor id="Pg237"/>likewise—but all in good season. We must not crack +nuts before monkeys. I have a letter for you,</q> he +added, <q>from Sextus, and another from Licinius.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Centurion sprung on his trusty war-horse, who +seemed to rejoice in the feeling of his weight; and we +were soon in motion. I asked no questions either +about the course or distance, but rode by his side so +silently, that he bestowed on me many good-natured +rebukes, for suffering a little affair of love to distress me +so greatly. <q>Cheer up now,</q> quoth he, <q>and do not +make me repent of carrying you to my father’s house, +by shewing the old man, who has had enough of troubles, +such a countenance as must make him think of Orcus, +even although he did not know himself to be near its +gates. It is more than a year since I have seen him.</q> +</p> + +<p> +This sort of speech he repeated so often, that I +thought the best way would be to tell him frankly the +true history of the adventure, from whose immediate +consequences he had delivered me. I told him, therefore, +every thing about both Tisias and Athanasia, and, +indeed, kept nothing from him in the whole matter, +except only what referred to the impression made on +my own mind by what I had read of the Christian +book,—for, as to this subject, it was one which I +totally despaired of being able to make him in any +measure comprehend,—and besides, the state of my +own mind was still so uncertain in regard to it, and +my information so imperfect, that I could not trust +myself with speaking of it to any one, until I should +have had leisure for more both of reading and of reflection. +</p> + +<p> +He preserved silence for some minutes, and then said, +<pb n="238"/><anchor id="Pg238"/><q>In truth, Caius, you have distressed me. I thought +it was merely some little frolic born of an hour, to be +forgotten in a day; but I cannot refuse you my sympathy. +Would I had more to offer!</q>—<q>Dear Sabinus,</q> +said I, <q>I know not how to thank you. You saw me +but a few days ago the merriest young fellow that ever +trod the pavement of Rome—happy in the moments +that passed, and full of glad hopes for all that were to +come; but now I feel myself quite changed. Almost I +wish I had never left my British fields; and yet I should +never have seen Athanasia.</q>—<q>Poor fellow!</q> quoth +he, laying his hand on the mane of my horse, <q>I perceive +there is, indeed, no trifling in your case. Compose +yourself; whatever chances there may be in your favour +will never be bettered by despondence.</q> He paused a +little, and proceeded—<q>The worst of the whole is +this new bitterness against these Christians. Except +during Nerva’s time, there was always some punishment +to be feared by them, in case of being detected; +but there was a way of managing things in almost +every case, and people were well enough disposed to +grant immunities which were always attended with +some good to the Fisk. Nero and Domitian, to be +sure, acted otherwise—but these were madmen; and +even they did so only by fits and starts. But now, +when a prince like Trajan has taken up the matter, it +is no wonder that one should consider it more seriously. +One cannot help fancying he must have had some +good reason before he began—that is one thing; and +having once begun, he is not the man to drop it lightly—which +is a more weighty consideration. Do you +think there is positively no chance of her giving +<pb n="239"/><anchor id="Pg239"/>up this dream, when she finds what it has exposed +her to?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>No,</q> said I; <q>I am sure she will not, nor can I +wish it would be otherwise with her.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well,</q> he resumed, <q>I enter into your feelings so +far, my friend, even on that point. I cannot imagine +you to have been so deeply smitten with a girl of a +flighty unsteady character. But then this is not a case +to be judged of on common principles. It is no light +thing to be exposed to such examinations as are now +set afoot for these people; and if she behaves herself +so resolutely as you seem to expect, what is the end +of it? I consider it highly probable—for there is no +friendship in uncandid speaking—that, in spite of all +her friends can do, they will banish her at the very +least; scarcely dare I speak of it, but even worse than +banishment has heretofore befallen Romans—ay, Roman +ladies too,—and these as high in birth and place +as Athanasia.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>My dear Sabinus,</q> said I, <q>do not imagine that +now for the first time all these things are suggested to +me. Imagine rather, how, unable for a moment to +expel them from my mind, I have spent these miserable +hours. Her friends, too, what must not be their +alarm!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>The thing was so done,</q> quoth the Centurion, +<q>that I think it is impossible it should have made +much noise as yet. If there was in the family no suspicion +that the lady had any connection with these +people, they must be in perfect perplexity. I lay my +life they take it for granted she has had some private +intrigue, and has gone off with her lover.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="240"/><anchor id="Pg240"/> + +<p> +<q>Alas!</q> said I, <q>when they hear the truth, it will be +still worse than this in their eyes. Yet it appears fit +that no time should be lost in making them acquainted +with the real state of the case. O Sabinus, I foresee +that in all these things I shall have need of your counsel +and your help.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You shall have them both, my dear boy,</q> said he,—<q>you +shall have them both to the uttermost. But +there is no question at all about the propriety of telling +the relations all you know. Licinius is probably well +acquainted with them. I am almost sorry for having +prevented your immediate return to the city; and yet +one night will soon be over.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>But Athanasia herself——</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Ah! that indeed is a point of some difficulty. It +was merely from having remembered who the men +were that rode off with you, that I was enabled to learn +so soon whither you yourself had been conveyed. But +the party consisted of a few men out of almost every +one of our cohorts,—those, in short, that were on duty, +scattered up and down in different parts of the city; +and I may not find it very easy to discover who had the +care of any other individual.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>But Athanasia——</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>True,</q> said he, <q>I had not thought of it. There +was but one female besides herself. That will furnish +a clue. You may rely on it, I shall easily find out the +place to which they have taken her; but then where, +and at what distance that may be, Heaven only knows; +for it seemed as if every prisoner were to be carried to +a separate place of confinement. At all events, even if +we knew where she is, we could do nothing at present. +<pb n="241"/><anchor id="Pg241"/>Come, cheer up, now you have unburdened yourself of +all this load. I shall be ready to start as early as ever +you please in the morning.</q> +</p> + +<p> +By this time the moon was in full splendour, and +nothing could be more beautiful than the scenery of the +native place of Sabinus, as we drew near to its precincts. +A little gentle stream, which kissed our path, did not +desert us as we entered the village, but murmured all +through its humble street. Street, indeed, I should +not say; for there were dwelling-houses on the one +side only, the other being occupied with gardens, in the +midst of which I saw the Doric portico of a small temple. +In front of this a bridge crossed the stream, and +there we were met by a troop of maidens, who seemed +to be moving toward the sacred place with some purpose +of devotion, for they were singing in alternate measures, +and in their hands they carried garlands. Some recognized +Sabinus, and, without interrupting their chant, +saluted him with their laughing eyes. We halted our +horses, and saw them proceed all together into the +hallowed enclosure, which they did, not by means of the +bridge, although they were close by it, but by wading +hand in hand through the stream below; whose pebbles, +as it appeared from the evenness of their motion, +dared not to offer any violence to the delicate feet that +trod upon them. <q>Happy creatures,</q> said I to the +Centurion; <q>of a surety they think these moonbeams +shine on nothing but glad faces like their own. Alas! +with what heart does poor Athanasia at this moment +contemplate this lovely heaven!</q>—<q>Nay, Valerius,</q> +quoth he, <q>if people were not to be contented with +their own share of sorrow, would the world, think ye, +<pb n="242"/><anchor id="Pg242"/>be worth living in? I hope Athanasia herself will ere +long sing again by the moonlight.—But stop, here is +my own old haunt, the abode of our village barber, and +now I think of it, perhaps it might be as well that you +and Dromo should remain here for a moment, till I +ride on to the house, and let them know you are coming, +for the sudden sight of strange faces might alarm the +old folks at this hour.</q> +</p> + +<p> +He had scarcely said so, when the tonsor himself, +hearing, I suppose, the sound of our horses’ feet, ran +out with his razor and basin in his hand, to see what +might be the matter. <q>Ah, good Virro,</q> quoth the +Centurion, <q>with joy do I once more behold your face. +Well, the girls still sing, and Virro still shaves; so +every thing, without question, goes well.</q>—<q>The Centurion +himself!</q> replies the barber; <q>so Venus smile +upon me, it is Kæso Sabinus, who I began to think +would never come back again.—Here, boy, bring out +a cup of the best. Alight, I pray you—well, at least, +you shall kiss the rim of the goblet.</q>—<q>I will,</q> said +he, <q>I promise you, my good friend, and that in a +minute or two; but I must first salute my father; and, +in the meantime, I leave with you in pledge, good +Virro, my excellent friend here, and the most knowing +Cretan that ever landed at Brundusium.—Dismount, +Valerius, I shall be with you again ere Virro can half +smoothen the chin of Dromo, which even this morning +shewed no small need of trimming.</q>—<q>Well, well,</q> +said the tonsor, <q>eagles will have their own way. Be +speedy.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Centurion had set the spur to his charger; and +we, in obedience to his command, submitted ourselves +<pb n="243"/><anchor id="Pg243"/>to the guidance of the oily-faced little barber. A stripling +was already holding two horses at the door, but +another came out and took care of our animals, and we +entered, exchanging courteous salutations, the tonsorial +penetralia. +</p> + +<p> +They were occupied by as various and talkative a +company, as the imagination of Lucilius ever assembled +in such a place. In the middle of the room, which was +spacious, though low-roofed, hung a huge shield of +brass, with a dozen mouths of flame blazing around the +edge of its circumference, close beside which sat a man +with a napkin tucked about his neck, the one side of +whose visage, still besmeared with a thick coat of lather, +testified that the curiosity of Virro had induced him to +abandon a yet uncompleted job. The half-trimmed +physiognomy, however, displayed no sign of impatience, +and the barber himself seemed not to think any apology +necessary, for he resumed his operations with an air of +great cheerfulness, saying, <q>Neighbours all, here is +Kæso Sabinus, that is now the Centurion, come once +more to gladden the old village with his merry face, +and that, I promise you, is prettily tanned since we +knew him first.</q> +</p> + +<p> +This piece of news appeared not a little to interest +several of those who were sitting under the tonsor’s +roof. <q>Ha!</q> said one, <q>the noble Centurion! Well, +has he brought home a wife with him at last? for the +talk was, that he had been seen at the Amphitheatre, +paying great court to one of the richest ladies in Rome.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>A wife?</q> says Virro, <q>no, no, centurions and barbers +can do without wives. But if he is to have one, +I shall be happy to hear she is rich; for centurions, +<pb n="244"/><anchor id="Pg244"/>after all, sometimes carry most of their silver upon their +helmets, as we do most of our brass on our basins.</q>—<q>Indeed,</q> +said I, <q>I never heard of it before.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>If it please you, friend,</q> said another of them, <q>is +this the same Sabinus that has lately been in Britain?</q>—<q>Britain,</q> +quoth an ancient dame; <q>I never heard +that name before—Britain! I know it not—I know +not where he hath been, but they told me it was over +the sea, perhaps in Palestine.</q>—<q>Tut, dame,</q> interrupted +the barber, (who was now busy on Dromo,) +<q>you think every one goes to Palestine, because your +own boy carried a spear with Titus; but you know +they ruined the city, and killed all the Jews and Christians, +and there is no occasion for sending Centurions +thither now.</q>—<q>Killed all the Jews and Christians, +said you?</q> quoth another. <q>I think the old dame has +the better of you as to that point at least, Virro. Not +Trajan himself will ever be able to kill them all; the +superstition spreads like a pestilence. It was but last +night that a hundred of them were taken together in +one place, eating human flesh.</q>—<q>Human flesh!</q> +quoth the barber. <q>Oh, ye gods, why do ye endure +such barbarians!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Human flesh!</q> echoed Dromo, springing from his +seat, and I looked at him, and saw that the barber in +his horror had made in truth a deep incision upon the +cheek of the poor man. The blood, oozing from the cut, +had already traced a river of crimson upon the snowy +surface of his well-soaped chin. It was this that had +deranged the philosophic composure and customary +phlegm of my Cretan; and no wonder; but the enthusiastic +tonsor took no notice of what had +occurred.—<pb n="245"/><anchor id="Pg245"/><q>Great Jove,</q> he proceeded, and he pointed to the roof +with his razor as he spake—<q>Great Jove! I adjure +thee! are all thy lightnings spent; is there never a +thunderbolt remaining?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>In the meantime,</q> quoth one of the bystanders, +<q>they are in the hand not of Jove, but of Trajan, and +he, I think, cannot now be accused of treating these +wretches with too much lenity. You have all heard of +that Tisias?</q>—<q>We have,</q> cried another; <q>but what +was a single individual to this great assembly? what a +sight will it be the day they are all executed!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I think,</q> said the same person who had inquired +whether our Centurion were the Sabinus that had been +in Britain,—<q>I think you are overrating the numbers +of that assembly. I heard of no more than a +dozen.</q> +</p> + +<p> +This stranger (for such he seemed) had probably +taken that day a considerable journey, for his tunic and +boots were covered with dust. He was attired in the +plainest manner, but notwithstanding, there was something +about him which gave one the idea of rank superior +to the company in which he was seated; and his +complexion was so dark that I could not help thinking +to myself,—I am not the only provincial in the room; +here is certainly some well-born African or Asiatic. +</p> + +<p> +<q>You have not told me, however,</q> said he, after a +pause, <q>whether or not this be the Sabinus that was +lately in Britain.</q>—<q>Sir,</q> said I, <q>it is the same; I +myself came in the same ship with him, but a few days +ago. He is a Centurion in the Prætorian Bands.</q>—<q>Yes,</q> +replied the stranger, <q>I guessed in truth, it +must be the same; for I remember no other of that +<pb n="246"/><anchor id="Pg246"/>rank bearing the same name.</q>—<q>If you are acquainted +with him,</q> said I, <q>you may have an opportunity of +seeing him immediately, for I expect him here every +moment to conduct me to his father’s villa, which is +hard by.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well,</q> quoth the barber, who by this time had +ended, without fresh misadventure, the trimming of the +Cretan—<q>well, I hope he will stay for a moment when +he does come, and then we shall be sure to hear the +truth as to this story about the Christian assembly. +They may talk as they please, but may Jove devote me, +if I had Cæsar’s ring upon my finger for one night, this +should be the last of them.</q>—<q>And how, friend,</q> +said the stranger, <q>by what means, if I may ask you, +should you propose so speedily to do away with this +fast-spreading abomination?</q>—<q>Look ye, sirs,</q> quoth +he, <q>I would place myself thus in my tribunal</q>—(he +took his seat at a little table, beside a goblet of wine, as +he spake,) <q>I would seat myself thus in the midst of a +field, as Cato and the great Censors of old used to do. +I would cause Rome to be emptied—man, woman, and +child should pass before me; and every one that did not +acknowledge the gods as he passed, by all the gods! he +should sprawl upon a tree in presence of all the people. +What avails watching, prying, spying, and surprising? +I should make shorter work of it, I trow.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You may say what you will,</q> said one who had +not before spoken, <q>I cannot bring myself to believe +every thing I hear concerning their superstition.</q>—<q>Ay, +goldsmith,</q> quoth the barber, <q>you were always +fond of having an opinion of your own; and, pray, +what is it that you have had occasion to know about the +<pb n="247"/><anchor id="Pg247"/>Christians, more than the rest of us who hear you? If +you mean that you have seen some of them die bravely +in the Amphitheatre, why, that we have all heard of at +least, and I think nobody disputes it.</q>—<q>No, master +barber,</q> replied he, <q>that is not what I was thinking +of. I have seen your common thief-knave, when he +knew he could do no better, brace you his nerves for +the extremity, and die like a Hercules. I would rather +judge of a man by his living than his dying.</q>—<q>True,</q> +rejoins Virro; <q>and pray, what have you got to tell us +about the life, then, of the Christians?</q>—<q>Not much,</q> +said he, <q>you shall hear. My old mother (peace to her +manes) was passing the Salarian one day last year, and +there came by a hot-headed spark, driving four abreast +in a chariot as fiercely as Nero in the Circus. He called +out, that I believe, but the dame was deaf, and whether +he tried to pull up, I know not, but the horses trod upon +her as she fell. Another of the same sort came close +behind, and I have been told they were running a race; +but however that might be, on they both passed like a +whirlwind, and my poor mother was left by herself +among the flying dust. But the gods had mercy on her; +they sent a kind heart to her aid. She was carried +into one of the stateliest villas on that side of Tiber, and +tended for six weeks by a noble lady, as if she had been +not my mother, but her own; and this lady, friends—by +Jove I suspected it not for long after—this lady was +a Christian; but I shall not say how I found it out, nor +would I mention the thing at all but among honest +men. But where were these you spoke of taken?—I +should like to know who they were.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>They were taken,</q> said the stranger, <q>not far from +<pb n="248"/><anchor id="Pg248"/>the Appian Way, within one of the old monuments +there,—a monument, it is said, of the Sempronii.</q>—<q>Of +the Sempronii?</q> cried the goldsmith, <q>Phœbus +Apollo shield us!</q> and from that moment he became +as silent as hitherto he had been communicative. +</p> + +<p> +The swarthy stranger, the silence yet continuing, +arose from his seat, laid a piece of money upon the table, +and moved towards the door. The barber also rose up, +but he said to him, <q>Sit still, I pray you, my friend;</q> +at the same time beckoning with his finger to the goldsmith, +who, with a very dejected countenance, followed +him into the street. What passed between them there, +we perceived not; but the artificer re-entered not the +chamber till some moments after we had heard the +departing tread of the stranger’s horses. When he did +come in again, he had the appearance of being in great +confusion. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="9" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="249"/><anchor id="Pg249"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter IX"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter IX"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER IX.</hi></head> + +<p> +Shortly after Sabinus reappeared, and bidding adieu +to our tonsor, we walked with him towards the paternal +mansion,—and we soon reached it; for, as I have +already said, it was but a little way out from the +village. +</p> + +<p> +The dwelling was modest enough, having no external +ornament but a single portico, with a few statues ranged +between its pillars. We entered by this portico, and +found the feeble old man sitting by himself in an apartment +immediately adjacent, wherein the beams of the +moon, having partial access, were mingled with the +subdued light of a painted lamp suspended from the +ceiling. The father of my friend had all the appearance +of sinking apace; yet he received me with an air, not +of cheerfulness, but of kindness. The breeze found +admission through the open pillars, and his countenance +exhibited in its wan and faint lines the pleasure with +which the coolness affected him. Beside him were +placed baskets of roses, gathered from the abundance of +his gardens. The young Vernæ, who from time to +time brought in these flowers, came into the chamber +with a decent appearance of sobriety and concern; but +they were never long gone before we could hear them +<pb n="250"/><anchor id="Pg250"/>laughing again at their play.—<q>Poor children,</q> quoth +the old man; <q>why should they trouble themselves +with thinking of the not remote victim of Orcus?</q>—To +which the Centurion replied, somewhat softening +that loud and cheerful tone with which he was accustomed +to address all persons—<q>Courage, my dear +father, you must not speak so. Cerberus, I perceive, +has only been making an ineffectual snap at you, and +you will be growing younger after all this.</q> +</p> + +<p> +At which the old man shook his head, without any +external sign of emotion, and replied, in a low monotonous +voice,—<q>Younger in the wrong way, my boy; +for I become every day smaller in body, and feebler, +and less able to do any thing to help myself. Nor am +I unconscious that I have seen my due proportion of +time. And yet, oh! fast sliding gentle brook, which I +see between these paternal trees—I am still loath to +exchange thee for Styx, and to lose the cheerful and +sacred light of the sun and moon. I wish only I were +once more able to repair with thy stream to the banks +of father Tiber, that I might salute the good Emperor, +who has been so kind to my son, and who would treat +even an old broken-down, and long-retired soldier, like +myself, with more favour than is to be expected from +Rhadamanthus. As clouds let down their drops, so the +many-peopled earth lets fall dismissed ghosts upon the +Stygian shore.</q> +</p> + +<p> +While he was saying things in the same strain, an +ancient Egyptian, who seemed to have the chief management +of every thing, came into the chamber, and after +desiring some of the boys to bring forth refreshments, +took his place on a low stool by the foot of his master’s +<pb n="251"/><anchor id="Pg251"/>couch. <q>Come, Tarna,</q> said the Centurion, <q>what +has become of all your philosophy? Why do you not +inspire our friend with less of gloominess? Why is +it that you do not bring out for his use some of those +old stories, with which, when I was young, you were +more willing to treat my ears than they were to attend?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Nay,</q> said the invalid, before the Egyptian could +make any answer,—<q>I liked well to listen to his Epicurean +theories when I was able to walk about the fields; +but now I would rather have him be silent. Do not trouble +me any more, good Tarna, with any of your speeches. +Allow me to believe as all my fathers did, and to +contemplate not only the sepulchre in which their urns +are placed, but the same dim regions in which many +dear shades expect the greeting of a descendant.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>To me,</q> said the slave modestly, <q>it still seems, +that by the rushing shower of atoms which moves +every where through space, the mind is soothed, as +by the sound of a great river carrying continually the +watery offspring of the mountains into the bosom of +ocean. The mind, sirs, appears to me to be calmed by +the contemplation of infinity, even as the ear of an +Egyptian sleeper is calmed by the eternal music of +rolling Nilus. It mingles itself with that which it contemplates; +it perceives—it feels itself to be a liquid +part of that vast endless stream of universal being: a +part which has been casually arrested and detained, +but which will soon mingle again and be scattered +away in a thousand fragments, to wander, no one knows +whither, through the great all-receiving void—not to +lose existence, for in that my dear master entirely +<pb n="252"/><anchor id="Pg252"/>misunderstands me—but to cease from feeling as a +Sabinus, or a Tarna.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The old man kept regarding his Egyptian with a +placid smile; but I could not help interposing: <q>What +is this you have said? Do you assert that I can cease +to be Valerius, to feel as Valerius, and yet not lose my +existence? Can I <hi rend="italic">be</hi>, and yet not be <hi rend="italic">myself</hi>?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Most easily,</q> replied he; <q>the divided fragments +may move about for a thousand years, before it befall +any of them to be stopped in some future combination +of atoms. These, it is manifest, only tremble and suffer +when they form part of a soul, but are immediately released +from all pain or mischance, when this confinement +and cohesion are at an end, and they, being dispersed, +regain liberty and wander about singly, as of yore; for, +as our great dispeller of delusion says—When death is, +we are not. If, therefore, Sabinus shrinks from the fear +of death, it is an idle fear. Does he not perceive that +when death arrives, Sabinus is no longer to be found. +Whatever its effects may be, they must affect not him, +but an army of innumerable disjointed essences, in no +one of which could he by any means be able to recognize +himself.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>To make a short story out of a very long one,</q> interrupted +the Centurion; <q>life, you think, is not worthy +of the name of existence—that being so, it is no wonder +you should think lightly of death.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Mistake me not,</q> quoth the sage; <q>no—life <hi rend="italic">is</hi> existence; +I not only admit that, but I assert that it is the +business of every man, and the sole true object of wisdom, +to render life, while it endures, pleasant. Earthly +pleasure consists in a bland juxta-position of atoms +<pb n="253"/><anchor id="Pg253"/>necessarily, though not permanently, connected; the +removal of pain implies that quiescence which pervades +the nobleness of the unenclosed <hi rend="smallcaps">All</hi>. To exist in this +shape, we are compelled; it is our business to render +our existence as near an approach to felicity as we +may.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Fill your cup, Tarna,</q> quoth the Centurion; <q>I +am no great philosopher, yet methinks I can see the +drift of this part of your story. Fill up your goblet, +most venerable Epicurean, and see (if it be not below +your dignity,) whether the atoms, which, by a fortuitous +and temporary juxta-position have formed your +throat, will not feel their corners very philosophically +softened by the rushing of a little rivulet of good Falernian—one +cup of which, saving your presence, I hold +to be more worthy of wetting my guttural atoms, than +all the water that ever sported its music between Memphis +and Alexandria.</q> +</p> + +<p> +While the slave and the Centurion were thus discoursing, +the old man appeared to taste, as it were, the +pleasure of a renovated existence, in contemplating the +brown health and strong muscular fabric of the inheritor +of his name. The hearty masculine laugh with +which my friend usually concluded his observations, +was, I take leave to think, richer music to his ears than +ever Egyptian heard in the dark rollings of the Nile, or +Epicurean dreamt of in the airy dance of atoms. I suspect +he was more reconciled to the inevitable stroke +of fate, by considering that he was to leave such a +representative behind him, than by any argument +which his own superstition, or the philosophy of his +attendant, could suggest. In return for this obvious +<pb n="254"/><anchor id="Pg254"/>admiration, the Centurion, without question, manifested +every symptom of genuine affection. Yet, I +think, the instinctive consciousness of his own strength +made the piety of the robust son assume an air more +approaching to that of patronage, than might have +been altogether becoming. If such a fault there were, +however, it escaped the notice of the invalid, who continued, +till Tarna insisted upon his retiring, to gaze +upon my friend, and listen to his remarks, with looks +of exultation. +</p> + +<p> +The Centurion withdrew with his father, so that I +was left alone with Tarna for some time; and it was +then that, in my juvenile simplicity, I could not help +expressing my surprise at finding in servile condition a +man possessed of such acquirements as his, and addicted +to such pursuits. +</p> + +<p> +<q>It would argue little,</q> he replied, <q>in favour of +such pursuits, if they tended only to make me repine +at the place which has been allotted me—no matter +whether by the decree of fate, or the caprice of fortune. +And after all, I am not of opinion that any such external +circumstances can much affect the real happiness of +any one. Give to him that has been born a slave, what +men are pleased to call his freedom; in a few weeks he +will become so much accustomed to the boon, that he +will cease to think of it. Heap wealth upon him; to +wealth also he will gradually become habituated. Rank—power—with +all it is the same. It is in the mind +only that the seat of happiness is placed; and there +it never can be, unless in companionship with thoughts +that look down upon, and despise being affected by +trifling things.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="255"/><anchor id="Pg255"/> + +<p> +<q>And are such,</q> said I, <q>the views of all those who +follow your sect?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I wish it were so,</q> he replied; <q>but ere you remain +long in the city, you will meet with not a few, philosophers +only in the name, who, having small means of +subsistence, but being desirous of leading a luxurious +and agreeable life, become teachers of such doctrines as +may accord best with the vicious inclinations of those +who are most likely to entertain them. These persons +assume too often the name of Epicureans. They +are seen every where at feasts crowned with myrtle, +and fawning upon gouty senators; and whenever a +boar’s-head appears, they are sure to call it worthy +of Meleager. Their conversation is made up of stale +jests about Charon and his boat, and the taking of +Auguries; and, when finally inebriated, they roll upon +the ground like those animals, to whom, in consequence +of the proceedings of such hypocritical pretenders, +the ignorant have dared too often to liken the +wisest of mankind. Such things I disdain—I am satisfied +to remain, as I was born, in the rank of Æsop, +Epictetus, Terence.</q> +</p> + +<p> +By this time the Centurion had returned. He had +a lamp in his hand; and he interrupted our conversation. +<q>Come, we start betimes, Caius; and you +too, my sweet cock of Cyrene, I think you had better +fold your wings, and compose yourself upon your +roost.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Oh, enviable temperament! said I to myself—you +liken the slave to a bird. Methinks yourself are +more deserving of the simile. The light and the air of +heaven are sufficient to make you happy—your wings +<pb n="256"/><anchor id="Pg256"/>are ever strong—their flight ever easy—and the rain +of affliction glides off them as fast as it falls. Sleep +softly, kind heart. It is only the troubles of a friend +that can ever disturb your serenity. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="10" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="257"/><anchor id="Pg257"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter X"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter X"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER X.</hi></head> + +<p> +I was in bed before Dromo interrupted my reflections +by saying, in a low tone of considerable confidence, +<q>And now, Master Valerius, do you still continue, as +much as two days ago, to disbelieve in philtres and +despise enchantresses? You see what, with all my precaution, +has come of this connection between Rubellia +and the Neapolitan.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>In truth, Dromo,</q> I replied, <q>it is visible that Pona +had some share in leading the soldiers to the Sempronian +Sepulchre; but I am doubtful if that had any +thing to do with the private affairs of the lady Rubellia. +As to that matter, I confess myself entirely in +the dark.</q>—<q>Dark indeed,</q> quoth he, <q>must your +observation have been, if you have yet to learn that, +but for that accursed witch, nothing of all this had befallen; +but if there be an edict against the Christians, +there are twenty laws against sorcery; and that both +Pona and she that consulted her shall know well ere +long, if they do not as yet know it; or may Cretan +change places with Bœotian!</q>—<q>Say on, good Dromo,</q> +I replied, <q>I am all ears; and as you appear to have +been all eyes, I shall probably soon be more enlightened.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well,</q> quoth he, <q>I am glad to find that you are +<pb n="258"/><anchor id="Pg258"/>in a mood to listen to me decently. You remember +where I took my station when you mounted those +unfortunate steps upon the tower. I had not stood +there many minutes before I heard somebody approaching; +and having no doubt it was Rubellia, I was preparing +myself for giving her such a salutation as I +thought would put a speedy end to her wandering for +that night. On came the steps, but no Rubellia. No; +it was Xerophrastes himself; and although he had +laid aside the Greek mantle, and donned a boatman’s +black cloak for the nonce, I promise you I knew +his stately gait well enough beneath all these new +trappings. It was no part of my job, however, to attempt +frightening the stoic.</q>—<q>And so you let him +pass without doing any thing?</q>—<q>I did; I confess I +gave one or two groans after he had gone on a few +paces, but I did not observe him much quicken his +walk, and I believe, to do the man justice, he set it +all down to the wind rustling among the trees. But +I thought not much of him at all, to speak the truth; +for, said I to myself, Well, if it be as I have suspected +for these two blessed days, and this master long-beard +is really in league with the widow, the chances are, she +herself is not far behind him. I lay by, therefore, and +expected in silence till I should hear another tread; +and in the meantime I spoke to you once or twice across +the path, but you made me no answer, for which you +know your own reasons.</q>—<q>The reason,</q> said I, <q>was +a very simple one, I assure you. I had fallen asleep, +and no wonder, for you know how long I had been a +watcher.</q>—<q>Well,</q> said he, <q>I guessed as much, and +it was nothing but the born tenderness of my +dispo<pb n="259"/><anchor id="Pg259"/>sition, which made me cease from offering you any +disturbance. I thought I should surely be enough +single-handed for the widow; and besides, in case of +need, I knew your waking would always be in my +power.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Admirably reasoned, Dromo,</q> said I; <q>and so it +seems no need came, for you certainly never awakened +me; for which I may thank the bonds from which the +Centurion’s kindness has just set me free. But you +have atoned abundantly—I pray you, get on with your +tale.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Presently,</q> he resumed, <q>I heard footsteps, indeed, +my good master, and not footsteps alone, but voices; +and I moved from the place as hastily as I could, till I +came to a tree, the branches of which, springing low on +the trunk, offered an opportunity for mounting, which +I should have been a Bœotian indeed had I neglected. +I mounted, and hiding myself as well as I could among +the boughs, awaited the arrival of the party, which +consisted—ay, stare if you will—of Xerophrastes and +the widow, walking in front, in earnest talk by themselves,—and +the Neapolitan in the rear. They halted, +and though they spoke low, I could hear them distinctly.</q>—<q>And +what, in the name of Heaven, said +they?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q rend="post: none"><q>Are you sure,</q> said the widow, <q>that this is indeed +the girl whom Sextus went to see at the Villa? +Can there be no mistake?</q>—<q>Mistake, lady, there is +none,</q> replied the Stoic. <q>Pona was at the villa with +her basket, and she saw them all walking together in +the garden.</q>—<q>And this little Christian,</q> said the lady +as if to herself, <q>it is she that has cost me all this +<pb n="260"/><anchor id="Pg260"/>trouble! It is for this Athanasia that I have been insulted +as never woman was by man, and they are both +here in the tower!</q>—<q>They are, lady,</q> quoth the witch; +<q>they are both in the tower, for I saw her go in by her +self first, and then in went some dozen of those muffled +blasphemers, and, last of all, went in he himself. I saw +him not enter indeed, but I swear to you, that I saw +him here not twenty paces from hence, and he had +with him that cunning slave of his, (meaning myself, +sir,) whose ugly face, (the foul woman added,) I would +know although it were disguised beneath all the washes +that were ever mixed in the seething-pots of Calabria.</q>—<q>But +what,</q> interrupted our long-beard, <q>what will +Licinius say? At least, my lady and my friend Pona +will take good care that no suspicion rests upon me. +Sextus is a silly boy, without taste, judgment, or discretion; +but Licinius is acute and powerful.</q>—<q>Fear +not,</q> said Rubellia; <q>fear not, dear Xerophrastes. Nobody +shall appear in the matter except Pona, and she +tells you she has already given warning at the Capene +Gate. There are always a hundred men stationed on +the Cœlian. Nothing can save them!</q></q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>These words were scarcely out of her mouth, ere +the soldiers were heard approaching. Xerophrastes +ascended with great agility a tree just over against mine; +Rubellia retreated among the pines; and Pona alone +awaited the guard. I would have periled a limb to +have been able to give you the alarm; but little did I +suspect, that had I sought you where I left you, I +should have sought in vain.—How, I pray you, did you +contrive to get into the accursed tower?</q> +</p> + +<p> +I told him I should give him the story another time +<pb n="261"/><anchor id="Pg261"/>at full length, and mentioned briefly what had occurred. +And then the Cretan proceeded with his narrative. +</p> + +<p> +<q rend="post: none">I leave you to guess, Valerius, how my heart beat +when I saw the witch lead the soldiers straight to the +place where I supposed you were still sitting—with +what anxiety I saw the tower surrounded—its tenants +brought out,—with what astonishment I saw you led +out, the last of their number.—I had neither time to +think by what means all this had happened, nor the +least power to interfere. I saw you all mounted—guarded—borne +away. Whither they carried you, I +was unable to make the smallest conjecture. I saw +Sabinus speak to you, and then I had hope,—but that +too failed. In brief, I did not venture from my tree +till the whole assembly, not forgetting Xerophrastes, +had departed; and you may judge what a story I had +to tell Sextus when I reached home.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Instead of waiting to ponder and hesitate, as he used +to do when his own matters perplexed him, he went +from me straight to his father. But before they had +done with their conversation, Sabinus himself arrived, +and he was immediately taken into the same chamber +where they were. Licinius and he went out together +soon afterwards, and I think they walked towards the +Palatine; but whithersoever they went, they had a good +deal of work before them, for the day had advanced +considerably before they returned. The Centurion’s +horses were brought to the door shortly after; my master +desired me to accompany him; and gave me letters for +you, which I had almost forgotten to deliver.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Such was the story of the faithful Cretan. The letter +of Licinius I have still preserved:— +</p> + +<pb n="262"/><anchor id="Pg262"/> + +<p> +<q>Since our Sabinus desires that I should write to +you, although his own kindness renders it unnecessary +that I should do so, I cannot refuse. I understand little, +my Valerius, of what has brought you into this condition, +from which, not without difficulty overcome, you +are, notwithstanding, speedily to be delivered. I guess, +that hastiness of various sorts, not, however, entirely +without excuse in a person of your age, has been the +means of implicating you in the affairs of a sect, equally +unworthy of your communication, whether you consider +the country in which their superstition originated, +or the barbarities with which it is stained. But even +for beauty, my young friend, it becomes not a Roman, +least of all a Valerius, to forget what is due to the laws +of Rome, and the will of the Prince. Consider with +yourself how nearly you have escaped serious evil. Return +to us, and forget what has passed, except for the +lesson it must teach you. Of Rubellia and Xerophrastes +I am unwilling to believe, without farther examination, +what has been told me by my slave Dromo. We shall +speak of that and other matters, when (which I hope +will be early to-morrow) you once more give me the +pleasure of seeing you. I have then much to say. +Farewell.</q> +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div type="book" n="3"> +<pb n="263"/><anchor id="Pg263"/> +<!--<index index="toc" level1="Book III"/>--> +<index index="pdf" level1="Book III"/> +<div type="chapter" n="1" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<index index="toc" level1="Book III. Chapter I"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter I"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">BOOK III. CHAPTER I.</hi></head> + +<p> +Day was far advanced before the Centurion and myself +once more drew near to the city. When we reached +the first declivity beyond the Anio, the sun was about +to sink behind the Janicular. The innumerable sounds +of the capital, blended together into one mighty whisper, +seemed only to form part of the natural music of +the air, and might almost have been confounded with +the universal hum of insects. We rode slowly down +the hill, the base of which is ever darkened by the +solemn groves of the Appian. +</p> + +<p> +We advanced in silence through that region of melancholy +magnificence. I scarcely knew whether I +should be able of myself to recognize, among so many +similar edifices, the mausoleum of the Sempronii, and +some feeling rendered me unwilling to put any questions +concerning it to Sabinus. +</p> + +<p> +But while we were moving leisurely, we heard of a +sudden a clang of cymbals among the trees, a little to +the right hand, and the Centurion, saying, <q>What +company can this be?</q> led the way down a narrow +path branching from the main road. This path was +winding and dusky, being edged on either side with +<pb n="264"/><anchor id="Pg264"/>pines and cypresses, so that for some space we saw +nothing; and the cymbals having ceased again, the +Centurion said, <q>I suppose it is some funeral; they +have probably completed every thing, and have seen +out the last gleam among the embers. Let us get on, +for perhaps we may be kept back by their procession, if +they are already returning.</q> We quickened our pace +accordingly, till a sharp turning of the road discovered to +us a great number of persons who were standing silent, +as if in contemplation of some ceremony. Several persons +on horseback seemed, like ourselves, to have had +their progress interrupted; but they were sitting quietly, +and making no complaint. The silence of the whole +assembly was indeed such, that Sabinus motioned to +me to ask no questions, adding, in a whisper, <q>Take +off your cap; it is some religious rite—every body is +uncovered.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Centurion, however, was not a person to be +stopped thus, without wishing to understand farther +the cause of the interruption. The one side of the road +was guarded by a high wall, to the top of which a +number of juvenile spectators had climbed;—the other +by a ditch of great breadth, and full of water, beyond +which was a grove of trees; and I saw him eyeing the +ditch, as if considering whether, by passing it, it might +not be possible, without disturbing the crowd, to get +nearer the object of their attention, or at least to make +progress in our journey. At last he beckoned to me to +follow him, and the bold equestrian at one leap passed +easily. I imitated the example, and so did the Prætorian +soldier, his attendant, who had now come up to us; +but as for Dromo, he was obliged to remain behind. +</p> + +<pb n="265"/><anchor id="Pg265"/> + +<p> +Ere we reached the bottom of the declivity, I perceived +that we had come close to the Sempronian +monument, and that the ceremony, whatever it might +be, was taking place in front of the tower. We gave +our horses to the soldier, and contrived to gain the bank +over against it—the same place, in fact, where the +Cretan slave had taken his station among the pine-trees, +on the night when all those things occurred of +which I have spoken to you. Like him, we placed ourselves +as quietly as we could behind the trees, and, +indeed, for our purpose, there could have been no better +situation. We were contented, however, to occupy it +as much as possible without attracting observation; for +it was evident, in spite of the curiosity that detained so +great a multitude near at hand, there must be something +mysterious or ominous of nature in that which +was taking place, since not one of the crowd had dared +to come forward, so as to be within hearing of the +officiators. +</p> + +<p> +And these, indeed, were a melancholy group. For +men, and women, and children of every age, to the +number it may be of an hundred, appeared all standing +together in garments of black; while, in the midst +of them, and immediately by the base of the tower, +two or three veiled priests, with their necessary assistants, +seemed to be preparing for sacrifice a black bull, +whose hoofs spurned the dust as they held him, and his +gilded horns glittered in the light of the declining sun. +Sabinus no sooner discovered the arrangement of the +solemn company, than he whispered to me, <q>Be sure, +these are all the kindred of the Sempronii. Without +question they have come to purify the mausoleum, and +<pb n="266"/><anchor id="Pg266"/>to avert the vengeance of the violated Manes. Behold,</q> +said he, <q>that stately figure, close to the head of the +animal on the right hand; that, I know, is Marcia +Sempronia, Priestess of Apollo. Without doubt, these +by her are her brothers.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Some of her near relations they must be,</q> I made +answer; <q>for observe you that girl whose face is +wrapped in her mourning veil, and whose sobs are +audible through all its folds? I had one glimpse of her +countenance, and I am sure it is young Sempronia, the +cousin and companion of Athanasia,—the daughter of +Lucius the senator.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Poor girl,</q> replied Sabinus, <q>from my heart I pity +her. They are all joining hands, that the nearest of +the kindred touching the priest, his deed may appear +manifestly to be the deed of all.</q> +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, one of the officiators sounded a few +mournful notes upon a trumpet. The priest who held +the axe, clave at one blow the front of the bull. The +blood streamed, and wine streamed with it abundantly +upon the base of the mausoleum; and then, while we +were yet gazing on the convulsions of the animal, the +trumpet sounded a second time, and the whole company +sung together, the priest leading them. +</p> + +<p> +The shadows of the tower and of the pine trees lay +strongly upon them, and I thought there was something +of a very strange contrast between the company +and their chant, on the one hand, and the beautiful +sculptures, full of all the emblems of life and happiness, +on the other, with which, according to the gay dreams +of Grecian fancy, the walls of the funereal edifice itself +had here and there been garnished. Fauns, and +torch-<pb n="267"/><anchor id="Pg267"/>bearing nymphs, and children crowned with garlands, +and wreathed groups and fantastic dances, seemed to +enliven almost to mockery the monumental marbles; +but one felt the real gloominess both of death and of +superstition, in the attitudes and accents of the worshippers. +It was thus they sung:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l>Ye Gods infernal! hear us from the gloom</l> +<l>Of venerable depths remote, unseen;</l> +<l>Hear us, ye guardians of the stained tomb,</l> +<l>Majestic Pluto—and thou, Stygian Queen,</l> +<l>On the dark bosom leaning of great Dis—</l> +<l>Thou reconciled Star of the <anchor id="corr267"/><corr sic="Aybss">Abyss</corr>.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>Blood, not for you, unholy hands have poured,</l> +<l>Ye heard the shriek of your insulted shrine;</l> +<l>Barbarian blasphemies, and rites abhorred,</l> +<l>Pollute the place that hath been long divine;</l> +<l>Borne from its wounded breast an atheist cry</l> +<l>Hath pierced the upper and the nether sky.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>With blood of righteous sacrifice again</l> +<l>The monumental stone your suppliants lave.</l> +<l>Behold the dark-brow’d bull—Behold him slain!</l> +<l>Accept, ye powers of the relenting grave,</l> +<l>The sable current of that vital stream;</l> +<l>And let the father’s hope upon the children gleam.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>And ye, that in the ever dusky glades</l> +<l>Of Hades, wandering by Cocytus’ shore,</l> +<l>Ancestral spirits—melancholy shades—</l> +<l>With us the tresspass of the tomb deplore;</l> +<l>Oh! intercede—that terror and disgrace</l> +<l>May not possess (as now) your resting-place.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>What though the liquid serpent of the deep</l> +<l>Between lie coil’d in many a glittering ring:</l> +<l>Not unobserved of your pale eyes we weep,</l> +<l>Nor to deaf ears this doleful chant we sing;</l> +<l>Strong is the voice of blood through night to go,</l> +<l>Through night and hell, and all the realms below.</l> +</lg> + +<pb n="268"/><anchor id="Pg268"/> + +<lg> +<l>Then hear us, kindred spirits—stately Sire</l> +<l>And pensive Mother! wheresoe’er ye glide;</l> +<l>If ever solemn pile and soaring fire</l> +<l>In freedom sped you to the Stygian tide,—</l> +<l>Have pity on your children: let the breath</l> +<l>Of living sorrow melt the frozen ear of death.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>For Her that, sprung like us from your high line,</l> +<l>Hath mingled in the sacrifice of guilt,</l> +<l>Ye know that angry star, her natal sign,</l> +<l>To expiate whose curse this blood is spilt;</l> +<l>If not suffices this atoning blood,</l> +<l>Oh, steep the thought of her in Lethe’s flood.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>Beneath that current lazy and serene,</l> +<l>In whose unfathomable waters lie</l> +<l>The slumbering forms of horrors that have been</l> +<l>In Hades, and in Ocean, Earth, and Sky—</l> +<l>With long forgotten curse and murder old,</l> +<l>Steep that lost daughter’s errors manifold.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>Once more for you an hallowed flame there burns.</l> +<l>Once more for you an hallowed stream there flows;</l> +<l>Despise not our lustrations of your urns,</l> +<l>Nor let unhoused Manes be our foes!</l> +<l>Above the children of your lineage born,</l> +<l>Hover not, awful ghosts, in anger and in scorn.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +These words were sung, as I have said, by the whole +of this kindred there assembled together; the first part +of them distinctly, though not loudly; but the last +verses in a note so low, that no one, unless quite near, +(like ourselves,) could have comprehended their meaning. +But as for the young Sempronia, when they came +to that part of the chant in which reference was so +particularly made to Athanasia, not only did her lips +refuse to join in the words, but her agitation was such +that I thought the poor maiden would have screamed +<pb n="269"/><anchor id="Pg269"/>outright, had she not been controlled by the eye, and +the hand also, of her aunt the Priestess. Sobs, however, +and low hysterical groans, could not be stifled; +and at last so great was her agony, that even the +haughty Priestess was compelled to give way to it. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Bring water,</q> said she; <q>dash ye water upon the +foolish thing: methinks it seems almost as if she had +partaken in the frenzy of her unhappy——</q> +</p> + +<p> +And before she could finish the sentence, one or two +of the females that were present did take hold of Sempronia, +and began, seeing there was no water nearer at +hand, to bear her slender form towards the small stream +of which I have already spoken, and which flowed immediately +behind the clump of pine trees, amongst +which the Centurion and I were standing. +</p> + +<p> +She was quite passive in their hands; and they +dragged her without resistance or difficulty to the place +where we were standing; but they could not pass without +seeing us: and no sooner did the eyes of Sempronia +fall upon me, than she burst by one unexpected effort +from the arms of those that were sustaining her, and +ere I or any one could suspect what she was to do, there +lay she at my feet, clinging with her arms around my +knees. <q>Oh, Valerius,</q> said she—<q>Oh, dear Valerius, +they curse Athanasia! Where is my Athanasia? whither +have they taken her? Oh, tell me, that I may go to +her—that I may go to comfort Athanasia!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Peace!</q> said, before I could answer, the Priestess of +Apollo—<q>Peace, mad, wretched thing,—has infatuation +blasted the whole of our line?</q> And she seized +Sempronia by the arm, and compelled her to spring +from her knees. But the maiden still clung by her +<pb n="270"/><anchor id="Pg270"/>hands to me, and continued, with looks and words of +misery, to demand from me that knowledge which, +alas! I would myself have given so much to possess. +Sabinus, however, smote me on the shoulder, as if to +make me recollect myself; and I had resolution enough +not to betray the feelings with which I listened to Sempronia’s +frantic supplication. +</p> + +<p> +<q>What is this, sir?</q> then said the Priestess—<q>What +is it that you know of Athanasia? and why is it that +you have presumed to witness the secret sacrifice of a +noble race?—Speak—or is there no meaning in this +poor girl’s frenzy? And yet, methinks I have seen +you before, and that, too, in the presence of——</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>It was,</q> said I, hastily—<q>it was indeed in the +presence of Athanasia; but that circumstance, if you +please to remember, was altogether accidental. I was +with the lady Rubellia when you found her in the +Temple of Apollo——</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yes,</q> said she, <q>it was that same day when she +refused to name the name of Phœbus in his own precincts! +Ha! little did I imagine what thoughts were +in her breast—else might we at least have been spared +this open degradation. And yet you, methinks, saluted +Athanasia.—What is your name, sir?—Know you, in +truth, whither the lady Athanasia has been conveyed?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>He was with her!—he was with her!</q> exclaimed +Sempronia,—<q>he was with her in the tower when the +soldiers came.—O Valerius! tell me where she is now,—into +what dungeon have they cast my friend—my +sister——</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Ha!</q> quoth the Priestess, <q>he was with her in the +tower!—Romans—kinsmen—Lucius—Marcus—hear +<pb n="271"/><anchor id="Pg271"/>ye this? I charge ye, seize upon this treacherous blasphemer!—It +is he that has deceived Athanasia; and +now must he come here to taint the smoke of our sacrifice, +and pollute our prayers with his presence.—Seize +him!</q>—And she herself grasped my cloak as she spake—<q>Seize, +I charge ye, this accursed Christian!</q> +</p> + +<p> +But Sabinus, when he saw the Priestess thus furious, +stept forward, and said to her kinsmen, who were standing +in perplexity behind her, <q>Sirs, I beseech you, be +not you also carried away with this madness.—My friend +here knows nothing of the lady Athanasia, except that +she was borne away by soldiers from the very place +where we are standing. I myself witnessed it also, +being here with the Prætorians. Valerius is no more +a Christian than she who accuses him.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I know not, sirs, how we are to understand all this,</q> +said one of the Sempronii, in a calm voice. <q>Is this +young man the same Valerius who is living in the house +of Licinius?—Yet it must be he. I have been with +Licinius this very day; and if this be he, whatever he +may have known before, I am sure he knows nothing +of where Athanasia is now,—and, sister, I am well +assured he is no Christian.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>It is the same, sir,</q> said Sabinus. <q>He is the same +Caius Valerius of whom you spake, and I am Sabinus, +a Centurion of the Prætorians.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>We have all heard of your name,</q> said Sempronius, +respectfully; <q>I perceive there is some mistake in all +this matter. If it please you, let us walk aside, and +understand each other.</q> +</p> + +<p> +So saying, he withdrew Sabinus to a little distance, +and beckoned to me to accompany him. <q>Valerius,</q> +<pb n="272"/><anchor id="Pg272"/>said the old man, when he perceived that we were out +of hearing, <q>I crave you, in the first place, to forget all +this trouble which has been occasioned to you by the +violence of my daughter, on the one hand, and of my +sister on the other. They are women; and, for different +reasons, the violence of both is excusable. I have +been for a considerable part of this day with Licinius, +and have heard from him enough to satisfy me how +guiltlessly you yourself have been involved in this +affair; and your speedy liberation from confinement is +more than enough to confirm my belief of all that he +said. Yet there is much which I do not understand. +I pray you speak openly, and fear nothing—you have, +indeed, nothing to fear. Was it in consequence of any +private meeting with my niece—nay, I mean not to +suspect you of any thing amiss—in one word, how +was it that you happened to be taken into custody with +that unhappy girl?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Sir,</q> I replied, <q>you are a noble Roman, and the +near kinsman of Athanasia. You have a right to put +these questions, and whatever reluctance I may have +to overcome, I feel that I have no right to refuse an +answer.</q> And so I told Sempronius, plainly and distinctly, +the story both of my unwilling entrance into +the mausoleum, and of my forcible abduction from it. +In short, I saw no reason to conceal any thing from the +person who was most likely to be able to serve Athanasia, +if any thing to serve her were possible. +</p> + +<p> +<q>It is well,</q> he said; <q>you speak as becomes a man +of the Valerian blood. But as for poor Athanasia, I +swear to you I cannot yet bring myself to believe that +she hath in reality been privy to such things as have +<pb n="273"/><anchor id="Pg273"/>been discovered concerning these Christians.</q>—<q>Discovered!</q> +said I. <q>I pray you, what has been discovered +concerning them? If you allude to any of the +wild stories that are circulated about their religion, you +may depend upon it, it is all mere madness to believe a +word of it. I have read in their sacred books myself, +and I swear to you, that, so far as I have seen, nothing +can be more simple, benign, humane, than the morality +inculcated by their leader.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Young man,</q> he answered, <q>I was not thinking of +their creed, which, for aught I know or care, may be +sublime enough; for there was always a mysterious sort +of philosophy current among those old Asiatic nations. +But I speak of the designs of these men; in one word, +I speak of their conspiracy.</q>—<q>Conspiracy!—What? +How? Against whom? I will pledge my life, no conspiracy +was sheltered beneath yon tower that night. I +swear to you, they are simple people, and were thinking +of nothing but their worship.</q>—<q>Worship!</q> quoth +he; <q>I promise you it will not be so easy to persuade +me that Cotilius has suddenly become a man of so much +piety, either to our gods, or to the deities (if they have +any) of the Christians.—What, Cotilius? By Jove, +Rome does not hold at this moment a more bold, daring, +godless rascal. You may as soon try to make me believe +that Capaneus came to Thebes with a hymn in +his mouth. No, no—the sworn friend of Domitian +will not easily gain credit for his new-sprung sanctity.</q>—<q>Cotilius? +That was the very name of the man that +seized me, as I have told you.</q>—<q>I should have guessed +as much,</q> said he;—<q>Yes, I promise you, how little +soever Athanasia might have known, secrets they had; +<pb n="274"/><anchor id="Pg274"/>and Cotilius was well aware at what peril they should +be revealed.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>The late example,</q> said I, <q>must indeed have +alarmed him.</q>—<q>What,</q> said he, <q>do you speak of +that fanatic Syrian? You know little of Cotilius. No, +no—had the worst of his fears been the necessity to +worship all the deities between Euphrates and Rhine, +he would have slept soundly.</q>—<q>But surely,</q> said I, +<q>you do not believe that Athanasia had any knowledge +of the man’s secret designs, if he had any. He may +have used Christianity, or desired to use it, as a weapon +against the State; but be certain, neither she nor any +of those really attached to their religion, had any notion +of his purpose.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>It may be so, indeed,</q> he answered;—<q>Heaven +grant it may. As for Cotilius, I will speak to you +more at length of him anon. I will bid adieu to my +sister, and take order about my daughter; and then, if +it so please you, we shall walk together to the city.</q> +</p> + +<p> +To this I agreed, but Sabinus rode on to the camp of +the Prætorians. He whispered to me, however, that +unless he were most necessarily detained, he should be, +ere long, at the house of Licinius. +</p> + +<p> +<q>To you,</q> said the Senator, as we went on, <q>who +have so lately come from your island, the whole of this +expiatory spectacle is probably quite new; but I am sure +Sabinus could not have been aware what was its purpose, +otherwise he would not have been guilty of so grievously +offending the feelings of my sister, and some of the rest +of my kindred, by remaining a witness of these most +private rites. The Priestess is indeed inconsolable, and +her grief has set half her other passions in motion +like<pb n="275"/><anchor id="Pg275"/>wise. Athanasia was as dear to her as if she had been +her daughter; so, in truth, she was to us all, ever since +her parents died. But Cotilius, this knave Cotilius, +has, I fear, blasted her hopes and ours.</q>—<q>It occurs +to me,</q> said I, <q>and I should have mentioned it to you +before, that there seemed to be no great understanding +between this Cotilius and Athanasia. She was evidently +displeased with many things he both said and did; and +he, on his part, did not appear to relish her interference.</q>—<q>True,</q> +he continued, <q>you have already +hinted as much; and I assure you, these are some of +the circumstances in the whole case that tend most to +excite my hopes. Great Heavens! what would Caius +have said had he dreamt that his orphan was to be suspected +of having sympathy with any of the dark designs +of that shame to Roman knighthood! But you, +of course, are a stranger to this man’s history.</q>—<q>With +its end, at least,</q> I replied, <q>it is like we may +all be soon enough acquainted.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yes,</q> said he, <q>Heaven grant we have not cause +too deeply to remember it! but I have known him +from the beginning. I told you already that he was +in great favour with Domitian.</q>—<q>And the reverse, of +course,</q> said I, <q>both with Nerva and Trajan.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Even so,</q> he continued, <q>and with reason; for in +all the disturbances which occurred on the accession +of the last sovereign, and, in particular, in those +foul intrigues among the Prætorians, which at one +time brought Nerva’s own life into immediate danger +and compelled him to bare his neck to the soldiery +at his gate, this Cotilius was more than suspected to +have had a deep concern. When Petronius and +Par<pb n="276"/><anchor id="Pg276"/>thenius<note place="foot">These were the principal conspirators by whom Domitian was slain. +They were afterwards butchered by the Prætorians, who regretted the tyrant; +and it was supposed to be chiefly in consequence of that slaughter, and its +shameful consequences to himself, (for he was compelled, among other +insults, to return public thanks to the butchers,) that Nerva called to his +aid the personal vigour and high military genius of Trajan.</note> were hacked in pieces, it needed no great +witchcraft to detect some of the moving spirits that +produced their catastrophe; but proof there was none +at the time; and even had there been proof enough, the +good old man would have been too timid to act upon +it. These things, however, could not be forgotten either +by Nerva or his successor. Hitherto, the strong hand +has repressed every rebellious motion; but be sure that +no man ever lived more an object of suspicion, than +this man has done ever since Nerva adopted Trajan.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>And you think,</q> said I, <q>that, among other intrigues, +it had occurred to this man to make his own +use of the Christians; despised and persecuted though +they be, there can, indeed, be no doubt that their numbers +are considerable, and that their faith is a strong +bond of cohesion.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>It is even so,</q> said the Senator. <q>But as yet the +treason even of Cotilius rests on suspicion only, and +report; and, after all, even if he were proved guilty of +having nourished such schemes, the account you give +of what you saw and heard at their assembly, inspires +me with considerable doubts whether he can be supposed +to have ever as yet ventured to invite their participation;—unless, +indeed, they practised deception +while you were with them. The moment I heard of +what had happened, I went to the Palatine, in hopes of +<pb n="277"/><anchor id="Pg277"/>attaining either assistance from Urbicus, or mercy, if +that were all we could look for, from Trajan. But +Urbicus could give me no satisfaction, except that my +niece was in a solitary and safe place. The charges, he +said, against one of the leaders (he meant Cotilius) were +heavy; and until these were sifted, it was impossible +that access could be afforded to any one who had been +thrown into confinement. The Emperor had shewn +unusual symptoms of anxiety, and had even, so he +hinted, been in person investigating the matter at a +distance from the city, during great part of the preceding +night and day. To tell you the truth, Valerius, +till this thing fell out, I was wont to consider the new +violence about the Christians as somewhat unworthy +of the enlarged intellect of Trajan: it had not occurred +to me, how easily the resources of such a superstition +might be enlisted in the cause of discontent.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Of course,</q> said I, <q>nothing will be done in regard +to Athanasia until all circumstances have been examined.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Done!</q> said he; <q>has not enough been done already +to justify almost in a man more than you have seen +among our women? Has not a whole family been disgraced? +Has not the mausoleum of their fathers been +prostituted for the unholy purposes of this barbarian +sect? If the Senate should be summoned, with what +countenance should I shew myself among my friends?—Unhappy +girl! How little did she know in what +trouble she was to involve those that love her the best.</q> +</p> + +<p> +By this time we had come within sight of the house +of Licinius, and the Senator took leave, with a promise +that I should see him on the morrow. +</p> + +<pb n="278"/><anchor id="Pg278"/> + +<p> +I found Sextus alone in his chamber, where he embraced +me with all the ardour of juvenile affection. +<q>Alas!</q> said he, <q>my dear Caius, at any other time +I might have found fault with you for taking so great +a part in my griefs, and yet keeping so many of your +own to yourself. But if it be indeed as Sempronia has +said, I should be a strange friend to choose this hour +for complaining of such trifles as regard only myself.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Sextus,</q> I replied, <q>it was only because of the +greatness of your own distresses that I concealed from +your kindness any of mine.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>My Valerius,</q> he answered, <q>we shall talk at +length to-morrow; at present, I have only time to say, +that the misfortune of Athanasia was communicated to +Sempronia almost immediately, by an old freedwoman, +who had been in the habit of attending her when she +went from home in secret, and who, going to the mausoleum +to accompany her on her return, arrived there +just in time to see what befel her. She saw you also, +(how she knew who you were, I know not,) and when +she had told her story to Sempronia, the poor girl, +before speaking even with her father, sent for me to +come to her in the gardens. I did so; all that passed +I need not repeat; but I hope my advice was the right +one. At all events, I acted for the best, and my father, +who is now aware of every thing, seemed to approve of +what I had done. O Valerius! were Athanasia free, +and you happy, many things have occurred to make +me much more at ease than when you left us. My +father is evidently shocked with what Dromo told about +Rubellia; and as for Xerophrastes, he had not once +spoken to him either yesterday or to-day. Indeed, +<pb n="279"/><anchor id="Pg279"/>neither of them have been much here. My father is +continually exerting himself concerning Athanasia; and +Xerophrastes, I suppose, is afraid of a discovery. As +for me, I am sorry I must leave you, for I promised to +meet Sempronia; and although I have nothing to tell +her, I cannot fail in my appointment. She must have +returned before this time from the mausoleum, where +an expiatory sacrifice was to be made at sunset.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Sabinus by this time had hastened to me once more, +according to his kind promise. I told him that my +kinsman was not at home, and that I proposed, in the +meantime, accompanying his son a part of the way +towards the Suburban of Capito. The Centurion insisted +on going with us, saying, that he could not think +of returning to the camp without having spoken with +Licinius. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="2" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="280"/><anchor id="Pg280"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter II"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter II"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER II.</hi></head> + +<p> +The Centurion, in virtue of his office, had free access +to the gardens of Trajan; so he led us by both a more +delightful and a nearer path towards the Salarean +Gate. Young Sextus then quitted us; and we returned +slowly through the beautiful groves of the +Imperial Villa, in hopes of finding my kinsman by the +time we should reach his mansion. But as we were +walking very quietly along one of the broad green terraces, +we heard voices in an adjoining alley, separated +from us by luxuriant thickets of myrtle, and Sabinus, +whispering to me, <q>Hush, let us see what we have got +here,</q> insinuated himself with great dexterity among +the verdant shrubs. I followed him with as little noise +as was possible, and having found a convenient peeping +place, we soon perceived two figures at some little distance +from us in the moonlight.—<q>Come, Sabinus,</q> I +whispered, <q>they are lovers perhaps—I don’t see what +right we have to overhear.</q>—<q>Peace,</q> quoth he, <q>if +you stir, they will detect us, and it is nothing unless it +be known.</q> +</p> + +<p> +With some reluctance I remained where I was; but +my scruples were at an end the moment I perceived +who they were. +</p> + +<pb n="281"/><anchor id="Pg281"/> + +<p> +<q>Most noble, most illustrious lady,</q> said Xerophrastes, +<q>this matter has indeed been conducted unfortunately, +yet no reason see I why you should give way to +so many groundless apprehensions. The only thing, +after all, that you have lost, if indeed you have lost it, +is the good opinion of Licinius; for, as to that foolish +boy——</q>—<q>Name him not,</q> replied Rubellia, <q>name +not the stripling. Surely madness alone can account +for my behaviour.</q>—<q>Madness!</q> quoth the Stoic; +<q>yes, truly, and who, at certain moments, is free from +such madness? As Euripides has expressed it, Venus, +if she come in wisdom, is the wisest; if otherwise, the +most frenzied of influences. The greatest have not +been exempt from such visitations. Banish it from +your heart, noble lady, or replace it by something +more worthy of your discernment. There is, I think, +but one pair of eyes in Rome that could have been +blind to such perfections.</q>—<q>O Xerophrastes!</q> said +she, <q>speak not to me of perfections. Alas! I was +born under a deceitful star—a star of apparent splendour +and real misery.</q>—<q>Noble lady,</q> he replied, <q>I +swear to you that what tincture of philosophy I have +imbibed, is unable to sustain my serenity when I hear +such words from your lips. You are surrounded by all +that externals can minister. It is your part to compose +your mind, and then how should it be possible for you +to taste of unhappiness? Think no more of that boy.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The philosopher took her hand with an air of the +deepest sympathy, and at the same time drew the end +of his mantle over his face, as if to conceal the extent +of his participation in her distresses.—<q>Alas! +lady, this is, after all, a miserable world. There is no +<pb n="282"/><anchor id="Pg282"/>rest but in the affections, and behold how they are +harassed on every hand by the invidious accidents of +life. Philosophy proclaims her antidote, but the poison +is every where; and it is all one course of being +wounded to be cured, and being cured only to be more +easily wounded again.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Our friend continued in an attitude of pensive +contemplation. The moonbeams fell full on his high +brow and the large massy features of his countenance, +and on the robust limbs which emerged from below the +stately folds of his mantle; and I could not help thinking +that there was something almost heroic, which I +had never before remarked, in the whole of his appearance. +Rubellia kept her eyes fixed steadfastly upon +him. +</p> + +<p> +<q>I should have known nothing of it,</q> he resumed, +<q>had I never deserted my paternal valley for the vain +pleasures of Athens, and the magnificence of Rome.</q>—<q>You +repent,</q> said she, <q>that you ever visited Italy? +I pray you deal with me openly. If it be your wish to +leave Rome, speak, and I shall put it in your power to +retire to Greece as handsomely as you could ever have +hoped to do from the family of Licinius. Of wealth, +as you well know, I have enough both for myself and +for my faithful friends, among whom, be sure, I place +you in the first rank. Control your feelings, I pray +you once more—and speak freely.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Hastily and fervently he pressed his lip upon the +beautiful hand of Rubellia, and whispered something +into her ear. She started, and I think blushed in the +moonlight; but neither seemed offended very deeply +with what he had said, nor with the gesture he had +used.<pb n="283"/><anchor id="Pg283"/>—<q>Softly, softly,</q> whispered the Centurion, <q>be not +ashamed, fair lady, of the love of thy servant.</q> +</p> + +<p> +But (whether the echo of his Horatian parody had +reached her ear or not, I cannot tell,) scarcely had these +words been uttered, ere Rubellia started from her seat, +and began to move pretty quickly down the shaded alley, +as if towards the entrance of the gardens. Xerophrastes +sate still for a moment, even after the lady had +arisen, covering his eyes, and part of his broad forehead +with his hands, as if buried in his own thoughts too +deeply to be with ease affected with a sense of things +passing around him. Then, at last, he arose, and uttering +an exclamation of surprise, walked after the noble +dame, taking heed, however, (it did not escape our observation,) +to arrange, as he rapidly followed her, the +massive folds of his mantle into a graceful drapery. +</p> + +<p> +Sabinus restrained himself till they were beyond the +reach of his voice; but he then made himself ample +amends. <q>Ha!</q> said he, <q>is this to be the end? Most +pensive ghost of Leberinus, is this to be thy successor?</q>—<q>Good +heavens!</q> said I, <q>Sabinus, do you think it +possible she should make the pedagogue her husband—she +that was but yesterday so desperately enamoured +of the beautiful young Sextus?</q>—<q>My dear islander,</q> +quoth the Centurion, <q>do you remember the story of a +certain beautiful boy, called Adonis?</q>—<q>To be sure,</q> +said I, <q rend="post: none">who is ignorant of the story of Adonis, or of +the beautiful verses of Bion—</q> +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post: none">I weep for fair Adonis—for Adonis is no more,</q></l> +<l>Dead is the fair Adonis—his beauty I deplore;</l> +<l>His white thigh with a tusk of white the greenwood monster tore,</l> +<l><q rend="pre: none"><q rend="pre: none">And now I weep Adonis—for Adonis is no more.</q></q></l> +</lg> + +<pb n="284"/><anchor id="Pg284"/> + +<p> +<q>Well spouted,</q> quoth the soldier; <q rend="post: none">and with an +excellent gravity: But think you Venus never altered +the burden of her ditty? Have you never heard of +Mars the blood-stained, the destroyer of men, the leveller +of city walls—nor of Anchises, the Dardan shepherd, +wiser in his generation than one who inherited +both his station and his opportunity; no, nor even of +Vulcan, the cunning Artificer, the Lord of the One-eyed +Hammerers, the Lemnian, the Chain-maker, the Detector, +the awkward Cup-bearer, whose ministration, as +honest Homer confesses, fills Olympus with inextinguishable +laughter. Have you heard of all these, and +I take it of a few more besides; and yet do you talk +as if Venus, after the white boar’s tusk had pierced the +white thigh of her Adonis, had made no use of her +beautiful girdle, but to wipe the tears from her pretty +eyes withal?—her girdle, of which, heaven pity your +memory, I know not how many blessed ages after +Adonis had fallen, the same faithful bard said,</q> +</p> + +<lg> +<l>‘In it is stored whate’er can love inspire:</l> +<l>In it is tender passion, warm desire,</l> +<l>Fond lovers’ soft and amorous intercourse;</l> +<l>The endearing looks and accents that can fire</l> +<l>The soul with passionate love’s resistless force,</l> +<l>’Gainst which the wisest find in wisdom no resource.’</l> +</lg> + +<p> +<q rend="pre: none">I was there the night she espoused Leberinus, and I +pitied her very sincerely, when I saw the pretty creature +lifted over the old man’s threshold in her yellow +veil, which I could not help thinking concealed more +sighs, if not more blushes, than are usual on such occasions. +But I promise you the glare of her new torches +shall affect me with different emotions.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="285"/><anchor id="Pg285"/> + +<p> +Such talk passed as we were leaving the gardens of +Trajan. But as we advanced into the more peopled +region, we found the streets full of clamour, insomuch +that quiet discourse could no longer be carried on. The +evening was one of the most lovely I had ever seen, and +the moon was shedding a soft and yellow light upon +the lofty towers and trees, and upon all that long +perspective of pillars and porticos. Yet groups of +citizens were seen running to and fro with torches in +their hands; while many more were stationary in +impenetrable crowds, which had the air, as it seemed +to us, of being detained in the expectation of some +spectacle. Accordingly we had not jostled on much +farther, ere there arose behind us a peal of what seemed +to me martial music; but my companion, as soon as +the sounds reached him, warned me that a procession +of the priests of Cybele must be at hand. +</p> + +<p> +At last they came quite close to us, and passed on +dancing around the image of the Goddess, and singing +the chaunt of Atys. A path being opened for them by +the crowd all along, they made no halt in their progress, +but went on at the same pace, some of them leaping +high from the ground as they dashed their cymbals, and +others dancing lowly while they blew the long Phrygian +trumpets and crooked horns of brass. The image itself +was seated in a brazen chariot, to which brazen lions +also were fastened, the whole being borne on the shoulders +of some of the assistants. Behind it came others, +beating great hollow drums; and then again more, +leaping, and dancing, and singing, like those who preceded +it. They were all clad in long Asiatic vests, +with lofty tiaras; and their countenances, as well as +<pb n="286"/><anchor id="Pg286"/>their voices, intimated sufficiently that they were ministers +of the same order to which the hapless Atys had +belonged. Yet nothing but enthusiasm and triumph +could be discovered in their manner of singing that +terrible hymn. +</p> + +<p> +They had not advanced much beyond the spot where +we were standing, ere they stopped of a sudden, and, +placing the chariot and image of Cybele between the +pillars of one of the porticos that run out into the street, +began a more solemn species of saltation. When they +had finished this dance also, and the more stately and +measured song of supplication with which it was +accompanied, the priests then turned to the multitude, +and called upon all those who reverenced the Didymæan +mysteries, to approach and offer their gifts. Immediately +the multitude that were beyond formed themselves +into a close phalanx, quite across the street, +and torches being conveyed into the hands of such as +stood in the foremost rank, there was left in front of the +image an open space, brightly illuminated, for the convenience, +as it seemed, of those who might come forward +to carry their offerings to the foot of the statue. And, +indeed, it appeared as if these were not likely to be few +in number; for the way being quite blocked up by those +torch-bearers, no one could hope to pass on easily without +giving something, or to pass at all without being +observed. Not a few chariots, therefore, and litters also, +having been detained, the persons seated in these +vehicles seemed to be anxious, as soon as possible, to +present their offerings, that the path onward might be +cleared to them by command of the priests. It was +necessary, however, as it turned out, that each person +<pb n="287"/><anchor id="Pg287"/>in advancing to the chariot of Cybele, should imitate +the motions practised by the Galli themselves; and +this circumstance, as may be imagined, was far from +being the most acceptable part of the ceremony to +some of those who had thus been arrested. A few +of the common sort, both men and women, stepped +boldly into the open ring, and with great appearance of +joy went through the needful gesticulations. But, at +first, none of the more lordly tenants of the chariots and +litters seemed to be able to prevail on themselves to +follow the example. At length, however, the impatience +even of these dignified persons began to overcome their +reluctance; one and another red-edged gown was seen +to float in lofty undulations across the torch-lighted +stage, and when a handful of coin was heard to ring +upon the basin of the Goddess, doubt not the priests +half-cracked their cheeks in blowing horn and trumpet, +and clattered upon their great tambarines as violently +as if they had made prize of another Atys. But how did +the Centurion chuckle when he observed that one of the +next chariots was no other than that of Rubellia herself, +and perceived that she and the Stoic were now about to +pass onwards like the rest, at the expense of exhibiting +their agility before the multitude. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Jove in heaven!</q> cried he, <q>I thought the garden +scene was all in all; but this is supreme! Behold +how the sturdy Thracian tucks up his garment, and +how, nodding to the blows of the tambarine, he +already meditates within himself the appropriate convolutions. +And the pretty widow! by the girdle of +Venus, she also is pointing her trim toe, and, look ye! +better and better, do you not see that she has given her +<pb n="288"/><anchor id="Pg288"/>veil to the Stoic, that so she may perform the more +expeditely?</q> +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, some one from behind laid hold of +my arm, and whispered my name. I looked round, and +perceived an old man, wrapped in a very large and +deep mantle, the folds of which, however, were so +arranged that I could see very little of his features. +Stepping a pace or two backwards, he beckoned to me +with his hand. I hesitated; but his gesture being repeated, +I also entered within the shade of the pillars, +and then he, dropping his mantle on his shoulders, +said, <q>Valerius, do you not remember me? We met +last at the tomb of the Sempronii.</q>—<q>At the tomb +of the Sempronii!</q> said I; and recognized, indeed, +the features of the Christian priest, who had treated +me on that eventful evening with so much courtesy; +but my wonder was great to find him in such a +situation; for I had seen him conveyed away between +armed guards, and I could not imagine by what means +he, of all others, should have so soon regained his +freedom. He observed my astonishment, and said, in +a low voice, <q>My friend, perhaps I might have as much +reason to be surprised with seeing you here, as you have +in seeing me. But follow me into this house, where +we may communicate what has occurred.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The hope of perhaps hearing something concerning +Athanasia determined me. I cast a look towards +Sabinus, and saw him attentively engaged in witnessing +the performance; and hoping that he might continue +to amuse himself so for a few minutes longer, I permitted +the old man to lead me into the vestibule. The +slaves, who were waiting there, seemed to receive him +<pb n="289"/><anchor id="Pg289"/>with much respect. He passed them, saying, <q>Do not +trouble yourselves—I shall rejoin your master;</q> and +shortly ushered me into a chamber situated over the +hall of entrance, where a grave personage was reclining +by the open window. He perceived not our approach +till we had come close up to his couch, for he was occupied +with what was going on without. When the old +man accosted him, and said, <q>Pontius, I have been +successful. Here is my friend, Caius Valerius,</q> the +stranger rose up, and saluted me with kindness. <q>Caius +Valerius,</q> said he, <q>will pardon me for being desirous +of seeing him here, when he learns that I was one of +his father’s oldest friends, and served with him many +campaigns both in Germany and Britain. I should +have been ill pleased had I heard that you had been in +Rome, and departed without my having an opportunity +of retracing, as I now do, the image of my comrade.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I had to answer not a few questions concerning the +situation of my mother and myself, before I could lead +the conversation into the channel I desired; and at +length, indeed, it was not so much any thing I said, as +the readiness of the priest himself, which gave to it that +direction; for the first pause that occurred in the discourse +between Pontius and myself, he filled up, by +saying, <q>And now, will Valerius pardon me for asking, +if he has ever looked again into the narrative of Luke, +or whether his curiosity, in regard to these matters, has +been entirely satisfied by the adventures of one unfortunate +night?</q> +</p> + +<p> +The manner in which Pontius regarded me when the +priest said this, left me no doubt that he was at least +favourably inclined to the opinions of the Christians; +<pb n="290"/><anchor id="Pg290"/>so I answered without hesitation, <q>My curiosity, instead +of being satisfied by what I saw that evening, +received new strength; but you may easily believe that +the troubles in which I was involved, and still more +the troubles with which I know others yet to be surrounded, +have hitherto taken away from me both the +means and the power of gratifying my curiosity as I +would wish.—But tell me, I pray you, by what means +is your imprisonment at an end?</q>—<q>My friend,</q> replied +the priest, <q>you speak naturally but rashly. I +believe you yourself are the only one of those surprised +in the tower, whose imprisonment has as yet terminated. +Yet hope, good hope is not absent,—above all, I trust +there is no reason to despair concerning that dear child +who interfered in your behalf, when a bold, and, I fear +me, a false man, had drawn his weapon to your peril. +As for me, I have but gained the liberty of an hour or +two, and long ere dawn I shall be restored again to my +fetters.</q>—<q>Your fetters!</q> said I, <q>am I to understand, +that, by the connivance of a Roman jailor, you are this +night at liberty to perambulate the streets of Rome?</q>—<q>Young +man,</q> answered the priest, <q>he is a Christian.</q>—<q>Even +for his sake,</q> said I, <q>the name is +honourable.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Valerius,</q> said he, <q>I pray you speak not things +which may hereafter give pain to your memory. Already +you have read something of the life of <hi rend="smallcaps">One</hi>, for +whose sake our name is indeed honourable—of Him I +trust you shall ere long both read and think more; but +how shall I bless God, that threw my lot, since captivity +it was to be, into a place where such authority was to +have the superintendence of me? Yet more, how shall +<pb n="291"/><anchor id="Pg291"/>I be sufficiently grateful, that She, in all things so delicate, +although in nothing fearful, has shared the same +blessing?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Heavens,</q> said I, <q>what do I hear!—Is Athanasia +indeed lodged in the same prison with yourself, and may +she also go abroad thus freely?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Think not,</q> he replied, <q>that I embrace such freedom +for any purposes of mine own. What I do for the +service to which I am bound, think not that Athanasia +will ever desire to do for herself. She abides her time +patiently where the lot hath been cast for her; in due +season, if such be the will of the Lord, she shall regain +that in truth, of which this is but the shadow.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>God grant our prayer,</q> said Pontius, <q>and not ours +only, but the prayer of all that know her, and have +heard of this calamity!—Whatever the exertions of +her family and their friends can accomplish, most surely +shall not be awanting. Would that those who are +linked to her by ties yet more sacred had the power, +as they have the will, to serve her! Yet Hope must +never be rejected. The investigations of this very night +may produce the true accomplices of Cotilius; and then +Trajan will be satisfied that the Christians stand guiltless +of that treason.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Alas!</q> said I, <q>if this faith be a crime, how can +any one hope to follow it without being continually +liable to accidents as unfortunate? In Rome, at all +events, what madness is it thus to tempt the fate which +impends over the discovery of that which it must be so +difficult, so impossible to conceal?</q> +</p> + +<p> +The aged Priest laid his finger on his lips, and pointed +to the window. I listened, and heard distinctly the +<pb n="292"/><anchor id="Pg292"/>shrill voices of the mutilated dancers, as they brake forth +above the choral murmurs of the drums and cymbals, +and I perceived that the bloody legend of Atys was +once more the subject of their song. +</p> + +<p> +The ancient waited till the voices were drowned again +in the clamour of the instruments, and then said to me, +<q>Young man, do you know to what horrid story these +words of theirs refer? Do you know what sounds all +these are designed to imitate? Do you know what +terror—what flight—what blood—what madness are +here set forth in honour of a cruel demon—or rather, +I should say, for the gain of these miserable and maimed +hirelings? Do you know all these things, and yet give +counsel of flight and of cowardice to me, upon whose +head the hand of Christ’s holy apostle hath been laid? +Read, dear Valerius, read and ponder well.—My prayers, +and the prayers of one that is far purer than me—they +are ever with you. But now since I have introduced +you to Pontius, why should I delay here any longer? +He, both for your father’s sake and for your own, and +for that of the faith, (of which you have had some +glimpses) will abundantly aid you in all things. Deal +not coldly nor distantly with him. I commit you into +his hands, as a brand to be snatched from the burning.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Pontius reached forth his hand and grasped mine in +token of acquiescence in all the old man expressed. +He, by and by, looking into the street, said, <q>These +jugglers have now departed to their dens, and the gaping +multitudes have dispersed. But I still see one person +walking up and down, as if expecting somebody; +and it seems to me that it is the same, Valerius, who +<pb n="293"/><anchor id="Pg293"/>was in your company.</q> I perceived that it was indeed +Sabinus, whistling to himself on the bright side of the +pavement. I therefore bade them adieu, saying, <q>Dear +father, when shall I see you again, and when shall I +hear farther of Athanasia?</q>—The old man pausing for +a moment, said, <q>To-morrow at noontide be in the +Forum, over against the statue of Numa. You will +there find tidings.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Centurion plainly intimated that he took it for +granted I had been engaged in something which I wished +to keep from his knowledge; but such affairs made no +great impression on him; and after laughing out his +laugh, he bade me farewell by the portico of Licinius. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="3" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="294"/><anchor id="Pg294"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter III"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter III"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER III.</hi></head> + +<p> +In the morning I found my kinsman and his son +extremely uneasy, in consequence of the absence of +Xerophrastes, who had not returned during the night; +but Sabinus came in while they were talking to me, +and narrated, without hesitation, all he had seen and +heard both in the garden of Trajan, and at the procession +of the Galli. Young Sextus could scarcely be restrained +by respect for his father, from expressing, +rather too openly, his satisfaction in the course which +the affairs of the disappointed lady appeared to be +taking; while the orator muttered words which I +thought boded not much of good to the ambitious pedagogue. +The Centurion alone regarded all these things +as matters of mere amusement, or so at least he seemed +to regard them; for, as I have already hinted, I was +not without my suspicion, that he was at bottom by +no means well pleased with the contemplation of the +future splendour of the Stoic. +</p> + +<p> +However, after many jests had been exchanged between +Sextus and the Centurion concerning this incongruous +amour, Licinius said, he was in so far much +relieved by what he had heard, as it satisfied him that +both the widow and Xerophrastes were now otherwise +<pb n="295"/><anchor id="Pg295"/>occupied, than in prosecuting their designs against the +niece of his friend Capito. +</p> + +<p> +<q>I myself,</q> he continued, <q>was all yesterday, as +well as the day before, exerting every means in my +power for her extrication from this unfortunate confinement. +Cotilius, without question, has indeed been a +traitor; but I believe the Prince himself is, by this +time, well inclined to absolve, not only the young lady, +but by far the greater part of those who were taken +with her, from any participation in his traitorous designs. +The charge, however, of which it rests with +them alone to exculpate themselves, is one of a nature +so serious, that it is impossible to contemplate +without much anxiety the pain to which so many +families—above all, the noble and excellent Sempronii—may +still be exposed. But this day Cotilius will, in +all likelihood, pay the last penalty of <hi rend="italic">his</hi> crimes—and +then we shall see what intercession may avail. Would +to heaven there were any one who could obtain access +to the deluded lady, and prevail with her to do that +which would be more effectual than I can hope any intercession +to prove. This infatuation—this dream—this +madness—is, indeed, a just source of fear; and +yet, why should we suppose it to be already so deeply +confirmed in a breast young, ingenuous, so full, according +to report, of every thing modest and submissive? +Surely this affectionate girl cannot be insensible to the +affliction of those who love her.—But you still shake +your head, Valerius; well, it is in our hands to do what +we can; as for the issue, who can hope to divert Trajan +from doing that which he believes to be just? Our best +hope is in his justice——</q> +</p> + +<pb n="296"/><anchor id="Pg296"/> + +<p> +<q>And in his clemency,</q> interrupted the Centurion; +<q>you will scarcely persuade me that Cæsar can meditate +any thing serious concerning a young beauty, who +has been guilty of nothing but a little superstition and +enthusiasm. Nobody will confound her case with that +of any obstinate old fanatic. In the meantime, what +avails it to distress ourselves more than is necessary? +Licinius is able to do something; and as for Valerius, +the best thing he can do is to get on horseback, and go +with Sextus and myself to inspect the cohorts that have +arrived from Calabria.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Young Sextus, on all occasions fond of military spectacles, +embraced this proposal; and fain would they +both have prevailed on me to accede to it likewise. +I knew, however, that it would be impossible, if I accompanied +them, to keep my appointment with the +old Christian; and that I was resolved on no account +to forego. I therefore retired to my chamber, there +to await the approach of the hour; and spent the time +till it drew near, in perusing once more the volume +which had been restored to me by Athanasia. This +volume, and the letter which I have before mentioned, +I placed together in my bosom, before I went forth into +the city. +</p> + +<p> +I entered the Forum, and found it, as formerly +thronged with multitudes of busy litigants and idle +spectators. A greater concourse, indeed, than was +usual, crowded not it only, but the avenues to it, and +the neighbouring streets, by reason of a solemn embassy +from the Parthian, which was to have audience that +day in the Senate. But I, for my part, having discovered +the statue of Numa Pompilius, resolved to abide +<pb n="297"/><anchor id="Pg297"/>by it, lest, being mingled in the tumult of the expecting +multitudes, I should, by any mischance, escape the +notice of the old man, who, I doubted not, meant to +seek me there in person. The time, however, went on—senator +after senator entered the temple—and, at +last, the shouts of the people announced that Trajan +had arrived. And immediately after he had gone in, +the pomp of the embassy appeared, and every eye was +fixed upon the long line of slaves, laden with cloth of +gold and rich merchandise, and upon the beautiful +troop of snow-white horses, which pawed the ground, +in magnificent caparisons, before the gate of the +Senate-house. But while all were intent upon the +spectacle, I observed a little fair-haired girl standing +over against me, who, after looking at me for some +moments, said with great modesty, <q>Sir, if you be +Caius Valerius, I pray you, follow me.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I followed her in silence up the hanging stairs, and, in +a word, had soon reached the level of the Capitol, from +whence, looking back, I could perceive the whole array of +the forensic multitudes far below me. The child paused +for a moment at the summit, and then, still saying +nothing, conducted me across two magnificent squares, +and round about the Temple of Jupiter, until, at length, +she stopped at one of the side doors of an edifice, which, +from the manner in which it was guarded, I already +suspected to be the Mammertine. +</p> + +<p> +The girl knocked, and he who kept the gate, saluting +her cheerfully, allowed us to pass without question into +the interior of the prison. My companion tripped +before me along many passages, till we reached at length +a chamber which was arranged in such a manner that I +<pb n="298"/><anchor id="Pg298"/>could with difficulty believe it to belong to a place of +punishment. +</p> + +<p> +Here I was soon joined by the old priest, (whose +name, if I have not before mentioned it, was Aurelius +Felix,) together with a mild-looking man of middle +age, whom he desired me to salute as the keeper of +the prison, saying, <q>Here, Valerius, is that Silo, of +whom yesterday evening you spake with so great admiration. +But I hope the benevolence of a Christian +will ere long cease to be an object of so much wonder +in your eyes.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>My father,</q> said the jailer, <q>methinks you yourself +say too much about such little things. But, in the +meantime, let us ask Valerius if he has heard any thing +of what has been determined by Cæsar.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I answered by telling what I had just heard from +Licinius; upon which the countenance of the old man +was not a little lightened; but Silo fixed his eyes upon +the ground, and seemed to regard the matter very +seriously. He said, however, after a pause, <q>So far, at +least, it is well. Let us hope that the calumnies which +have been detected, may turn more and more of discredit +upon those that have gone abroad concerning +that which is dearer to you, my father, and to all your +true companions, than any thing of what men call their +own. But, alas! these, after all, are but poor tidings +for our dear young lady.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Fear not,</q> answered Aurelius: <q>have I not told +you already oftentimes, that strength of heart goes not +with bone and sinew, and that my gentle child is prepared +for all things? She also well knows that the +servant is not greater than the master.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="299"/><anchor id="Pg299"/> + +<p> +The old man motioned to us to remain where we +were, and withdrew. I sate for some minutes by the +side of Silo, who was, indeed, manifestly much troubled, +until at length the same modest little damsel opened +the door, and addressing the jailer as her father, asked +leave to conduct me to Aurelius. +</p> + +<p> +The child led me, therefore, into the adjoining chamber, +and tapped gently at a door on the other side of it. +The voice of the old priest bade us come in, and Athanasia +arose with him to receive me. She was dressed in +a white tunic, her hair braided in dark folds upon her +forehead; her countenance was calm, and, but for the +paleness of her lips, I should have said that her gravity +scarcely partook of sadness. When, however, we had +exchanged our salutations, it was evident that some +effort had been necessary for this appearance of serenity; +for when she spoke to me her voice trembled in every +tone, and, as she stooped to caress my young guide, who +had sate down by her feet, I saw the tear that had been +gathering drop heavily, and lose itself among the bright +clusters of the little damsel’s hair. I took her unresisting +hand, and imitated as best I could the language of +consolation. But it seemed as if my poor whispers only +served to increase the misery. She covered her face +with her hands, and sobs and tears were mingled +together, and the blood glowed red in her neck, in the +agony of her lamentation. +</p> + +<p> +The old priest was moved at first scarcely less than +myself by this sorrowful sight. Yet the calmness of +age deserted him not long, and after a moment there +remained nothing on his countenance but the gravity +and tenderness of compassion. He arose from his seat, +<pb n="300"/><anchor id="Pg300"/>and walked quietly towards the end of the apartment, +from which when he returned, after a brief space, there +was an ancient volume open in his hand. And standing +near us, he began to read aloud, in the Greek tongue, +words which were then new, and which have ever since +been in a peculiar manner dear to me. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend="italic">God is our refuge and strength; a very present help in +trouble. Therefore will not we fear though the earth be +removed; though the mountains be carried into the midst +of the sea; though the waters thereof roar and be troubled; +though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof.</hi> +</p> + +<p> +Athanasia took her hands from her face, and gradually +composing herself, looked through her tears upon the +old man as he proceeded. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend="italic">There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad +the city of God; the holy place of the tabernacles of the +Most High.</hi> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend="italic">God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved; God +shall help her, and that right early.</hi> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend="italic">The heathen raged; the kingdoms were moved. He +uttered his voice; the earth melted.</hi> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend="italic">The Lord of Hosts is with us. The God of Jacob is our +refuge.</hi> +</p> + +<p> +The blood had mounted in the countenance of Aurelius, +ere he reached these last words. The tears also +had been dried up on the pale cheek of Athanasia; +and although her voice was not heard, I saw that +her lips moved fervently along with those of the priest. +Even in me, ignorant of their source, the words of +the royal prophet produced I know not what of +buoyance and emotion, and perhaps my lips, too, had +involuntarily essayed to follow them; for when he +<pb n="301"/><anchor id="Pg301"/>paused from his reading, the old man turned to me +with a face full of benignity, and said, <q>Yes, Valerius, +it is even so; Homer, Pindar, Æschylus—these, +indeed, can stir the blood; but it is such poetry as +this that alone can sooth in sorrow, and strengthen in +the hour of tribulation. Your vain-glorious Greeks +called all men barbarians but themselves; and yet these +words, and thousands not less precious than these, consoled +the afflictions, and ennobled the triumphs of the +chosen race of Israel long, long years, ere ever the +boasted melody of Ionian or Doric verse had been heard +of. From this alone, young man, you may judge what +measure of candour inhabits along with the disdain of +our proud enemies:—how fairly, without question, or +opportunity of defence, the charge of barbarity is heaped +upon what they are pleased to call our <hi rend="italic">superstition</hi>;—how +wisely the learned and the powerful of the earth +have combined in this league against the truth which +they know not,—of which they fear or despise the +knowledge. Surely the truth is mighty, and the gates +of hell shall not prevail against her.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>But, alas! my dear father,</q> said Athanasia, <q>I fear +me this is not the place, nor the situation, in which +Valerius might be most likely to listen to your words. +It may be that his own narrow escape, to say nothing +of our present danger, has rendered him even more cautious +than he was before.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>And who, my dear child,</q> he replied hastily,—<q>and +who is he that shall dare to blame caution, or to +preach, above all in such things as these, the rashness +that is of folly? Valerius will not believe that we, like +the miserable creatures whose impious songs he heard +<pb n="302"/><anchor id="Pg302"/>last night, are studious only of working upon the fears +of the ignorant, and harassing, with dark and lying +dreams, the imaginations of the simple. <hi rend="italic">Here</hi> are no +wild stories of blood-thirsty deities, and self-sacrificing +maniacs. <hi rend="italic">Here</hi> is that which Socrates vainly sought by +all the ingenuity of reason. <hi rend="italic">Here</hi> is that of which some +faint and mysterious anticipations would appear to have +been shadowed forth in the visions of Plato. <hi rend="italic">Here</hi> is +that which, as that Mighty Martyr who died in this +very city hath said, innumerable prophets and kings of +the old time desired to see, and yet saw not. Do nothing +rashly, young man; but it is possible, as you yourself +well know, that this may be the last opportunity I +shall ever have of speaking with you; and therefore, +before we part, I must needs charge you solemnly, that +henceforth, if your knowledge increase not, the sin shall +be upon your head. I charge you, Valerius, that when +you return to your island, you blot not from your memory +the things that you have seen and heard in this +great city of light and of darkness. Examine—judge—ask +aid, and aid shall not be refused you. I take +Athanasia to witness, that I have given you the warning +that is needful.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Oh, sir!</q> said Athanasia, <q>I am sure it shall not +be in vain that you have done so. I am sure Valerius +will never forget this hour——</q> +</p> + +<p> +She gazed in my face, and a tear was again visible, +yet on all her countenance there was no other semblance +of passion. The venerable Aurelius clasping his +thin hands together, whispered,—<q>Would to God that +I were here alone! Shall the axe be laid to the root of +the fair young tree that hath but begun to blossom, +<pb n="303"/><anchor id="Pg303"/>when so many old trunks stand around withered with +the lightnings, and sore broken by the winds?—The +will of the Lord be done!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Amen!</q> said Athanasia, taking the old man by the +hand, and smiling, I think, more cheerfully than I had +yet seen her—<q>My dear father, I fear you yourself, +after all, are teaching Valerius to take but a sad farewell +of us.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Alas! my child,</q> he replied, <q>he must have a hard +heart that could look unmoved on that sweet face in +this hour of sadness. But we are in the hands of a +greater than Trajan. If so it please Him, all may yet +go well with us even here upon the earth. You may +live to see many happy years among your kindred—and +I, (the old man smiled most serenely,) and for me, +my gray hairs may be laid in bloodless dust. Whatever +awaits us, blessed be the name of the Lord!</q> +</p> + +<p> +So saying, the old man retired from the chamber, and +once more I was left alone in the presence of Athanasia. +I took from my bosom the book and the letter which I +had placed there, and laid them upon her knee. She +broke the seal, and read hastily what Tisias had written, +and then concealed the scroll within her tunic, +saying, <q>Alas! Valerius, little did the brave old soldier +suspect how soon his peril was to be mine—Will you +permit me like him to make you my messenger?—will +you seek out my cousin, my sister, and tell Sempronia +in what condition you have found me?—no, not in +what you found—but in what you now see me. Will +you go, Valerius, and speak comfort to my poor friend? +Her pity, at least, I am sure is mingled with no angry +thoughts; and yet she only has reason to complain, for +<pb n="304"/><anchor id="Pg304"/>her secret thoughts were not hid from me, and, alas! I +concealed mine from her.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I have already seen her,</q> said I, <q>and you do her +no more than justice. But, indeed, Sempronius himself +thinks of you even as gently as his daughter.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I doubt it not, Valerius; but, alas! there are many +others besides these; and I know not what relic of +weakness it is, but methinks I could have borne the +worst more easily, had it not been for what I picture to +myself of their resentment. Alas! I am cut off for ever +from the memory of my kindred.</q> She threw open +the lattice, as if that she might inhale the free air, and +her eyes wandered to and fro over all the magnificent +prospect that lay stretched out below us,—the temples +and high porticos of the Forum—the gleaming battlements +and long arcades of the Palatine—the baths, +and theatres, and circuses between and the river—Tiber +winding away among fields and groves—and the sky +of Italy extending over all things its arch of splendour. +When the trumpets were blown by the gate +of the Senate-house, the sound floated upwards to +us as gently as if it had been borne over the waters. +The shouts of the multitude were faintly re-echoed +from the towers and the rocks. The princely pageant +shewed like a pomp of pigmies; spear, and helmet, +and eagle glittered together, almost like dews upon +the distant herbage. Athanasia rested her eye once +more upon the wide range of the champaign, where +fields and forests were spread out in interminable succession—away +towards the northern region and the +visible mountains. She raised her hand, and said, +<q>Valerius, your home lies far away yonder. I must +<pb n="305"/><anchor id="Pg305"/>give you something which you shall promise me to carry +with you, and preserve in memory—of Rome.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Before I had time to make any answer, she had taken +out of a casket that stood beside us, a scroll of parchment, +bound with a silk ribbon, which she immediately +put into my hands, and—<q>To-morrow,</q> said she, +<q>Valerius, our fate, they tell us, must at length be determined;—if +we share the fate of Tisias, the last gift +of Tisias shall be yours. If, however, any mercy be +extended to us, I cannot part with that memorial of a +dying martyr. I must keep to myself the old man’s +favourite volume, for it was for me he had designed it. +But I have made a copy of the same book for yourself. +I have written it since I came hither, Valerius, and you +must not despise it because the Mammertine has not +furnished the finest of materials. Take this, Valerius, +and take with it my thanks—my prayers. I know +you will not forget my message to my dear sister.—Sextus +and she—may many happy days be theirs—and +yours.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I kissed the sad gift, and placed it in my bosom. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Valerius,</q> she said, <q>dry up your tears. You weep +for me because I am a Christian; forget not that the +Roman blood flows in my veins, and think not that its +current is chilled, because I have forsworn the worship +of idol and demon, and am in peril for the service of +The Living God.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Athanasia!</q> said I,—<q>I weep for you, but not for +you alone. I ask nothing—I hope nothing—but I +could not bear to part with you thus, and not to tell +you that when I part from you, I bid farewell to all +things. Pardon me—once more pardon me.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="306"/><anchor id="Pg306"/> + +<p> +A single flush of crimson passed over her face, and I +saw her lips move, but the syllables died ere they were +uttered. She continued for a moment gazing on me, +pale, and trembling; and then at last she fell upon my +neck and wept—not audibly—but I felt her tears. +</p> + +<p> +Athanasia was still folded to my bosom in that +strange agony of sorrow and of confidence, when Silo, +the jailer, entered the apartment, abrupt and breathless. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Oh, sir!</q> said he, <q>your sufferings are mine—but +it is necessary that you should leave us, and on the instant, +for the Prefect is already at the gate, and unquestionably +he will examine every part of the prison; and +should you be recognized as the person who was taken +in the Mausoleum, you see plainly to what suspicions it +might give rise. Come then, sir, and let me secure your +escape—we shall take care to warn you of whatever +occurs, and we shall send for you, if there be opportunity.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Athanasia recovered herself almost instantly, when +she heard what Silo said. +</p> + +<p> +<q>We shall meet again,</q> said I. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Once more,</q> she replied—<q>at least once more, +Valerius.</q> +</p> + +<p> +And I tore myself away from her; and the jailer +having once again committed me to the guidance of his +child, I was in a few moments conducted to the same +postern by which I had been introduced. In a word, +I found myself in the court of the Capitol, at the instant +when the Prefect, with all his attendants, was entering +by the main gate of the Mammertine. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="4" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="307"/><anchor id="Pg307"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter IV"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter IV"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER IV.</hi></head> + +<p> +On reaching home, I was told that Licinius was still +absent; and found at the same time a billet upon the +table, which informed me that Sabinus had carried +Sextus with him to his quarters, and that both expected +I would join them there immediately upon my return. +I knew not how to refuse compliance, and yet I could +not bear the thought of being so far from the <anchor id="corr307"/><corr sic="Capito">Capitol</corr>, +in case of any message being sent to me from the prison. +Since I could do no better, however, I charged Boto to +remain in my apartment till sunset, and bring me, +without delay, any letter or messenger that might arrive +in my absence. Should none such appear within that +space, I gave him a note, which I desired him to deliver +into the hands of Silo; and having, as I thought, furnished +him with sufficient directions how to discharge +this commission, I myself took the path to the Prætorian +Camp, where I thought it very probable that I might +gather some new intelligence as to Cotilius. +</p> + +<p> +The Prætorian who had accompanied Sabinus at my +release from the rustic tower, recognized me at the gate, +and conducted me immediately to the Centurion, who, +to my surprise and displeasure, had directed that I +should be ushered without delay to, not his own +apart<pb n="308"/><anchor id="Pg308"/>ment, but the general table. Here I was received most +courteously, however, and hoping the feast was nearly +over, took my place near my friend. +</p> + +<p> +Several of those high-fed warriors who had more +than once disposed of the empire, were reclining upon +rich couches around the board; and their effeminate +exterior would, perhaps, have made them less formidable +in my eyes, had I not remembered the youth of +the great Cæsar, the Parthian retreat of Antony, and +the recent death of Otho.<note place="foot"><lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 11">——Catonem</l> +<l>Novisti moriens vincere, mollis Otho.</l> +</lg></note> There were present, besides, +a few casual visiters like ourselves; among others, +a sleek Flamen, who reclined on the right hand of the +presiding Tribune, and a little bald Greek, who seemed +to think it incumbent upon himself to fill up every +pause in the conversation, by malicious anecdotes or +sarcasms, of which last it was easy to see that the +Flamen opposite was a favourite subject. Neither wit +nor impiety, however, could make speedy impression +upon the smooth-faced Flamen, who seemed to think, +if one might judge from his behaviour, that the most +acceptable service he could render to the deities, was to +do full and devout justice to the gifts of their benevolence. +</p> + +<p> +A very animated discussion concerning the review of +the newly-arrived cohorts, (which, I have told you, had +taken place that morning by the river side,) relieved +for some time the patient Flamen from the attacks of +this irreverent person, and engaged the zealous participation +of those who had hitherto been the most silent +of the company. Sabinus, among the rest, was ready +<pb n="309"/><anchor id="Pg309"/>with a world of remarks upon the equipments, the manœuvres, +the merits, and the demerits of the troops in +question; but something he said was quite at variance +with the sentiments of one of his brother Centurions, +who disputed with him rather warmly than successfully +for a few moments, and at last ended with saying,—<q>But +why should I take so much trouble to discuss +the point with you, who, we all know, were thinking +of other matters, and saw not much more of the review +than if you had been a hundred miles off from it?</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Centurion coloured a little, and laughed, as it +seemed to me, with rather less heartiness than usual; +but the disputant pursuing his advantage, said, <q>Yes, +you may laugh if you will; but do you think we are +all blind, or do you suppose we are not acquainted with +certain particulars? Well, some people dislike the +Suburra, but for my part I agree with Sabinus; I +think it is one of the genteelest places in Rome, and +that there are some of the snuggest houses in it too—and +if old men will die, for me, I protest, I don’t see +why young men should not succeed them.</q> The Centurion +laughed again, and natural ruddiness of complexion +was, I thought, scarcely quite sufficient to +account for the flush on his countenance, as he listened +to these innuendos. But the master of the feast cut the +matter short, by saying that he had a health to propose, +and that he expected all present should receive it with +honour.—<q>Here,</q> said he, <q>is to the fair lady Rubellia, +who is never absent when the Prætorians turn out, and +may all things fair and fortunate attend her now and +hereafter.</q> I whispered to Sabinus,—<q>My friend, I +think you have really some reason for blushing. If +<pb n="310"/><anchor id="Pg310"/>you had no pity on Xerophrastes, you might at least +have had some for the pretty widow.</q> +</p> + +<p> +He made no answer to this, and looked, if possible, +more confused than ever; but, just at that moment, a +soldier came in, and delivered a billet to the presiding +Tribune, who handed it to Sabinus immediately after +he had read it, and said, loud enough to be heard by all +those who sate near him, <q>I wish the Prince would +give some of this work to these new comers. But, indeed, +I wonder what Lictors are good for now-a-days; +but every thing that these Christians are any way +concerned in seems to be a matter of importance.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Sabinus, having read the billet, handed it back again +to the Tribune, and said aloud, <q><foreign lang="la" rend="italic">Exit</foreign> Cotilius!—Who +would not be of the chorus at the falling of that +curtain?</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Tribune shrugged his shoulders, whispered something +into the ear of the messenger, and then, dashing +more wine into his cup, said, <q>Rome will never be a +quiet place, nor the Prætorian helmet a comfortable +head-piece, till these barbarians be extirpated.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Flamen tossed off a full goblet, and, smiting +with his hand upon the table, said, <q>There spake a true +Roman, and a worshipper of the Gods. I rejoice to +find that there is still some religion in the world; for, +what with skulking Jews on the one hand, and bold +blasphemous Cyrenæans on the other, so help me Jupiter, +the general prospect is dark enough!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>In my opinion,</q> quoth the bald Greek, putting on +an air of some gravity, <q>the Jews will have the better +of the Cyrenæans. Indeed, I should not be much surprised +to see this Christian superstition supplant every +<pb n="311"/><anchor id="Pg311"/>other.</q> The Flamen half started from his couch. +<q>You observe, gentlemen,</q> proceeded the Greek,—<q>what +great advantage any new superstition has over +any thing of the same sort that is old. We all know, +for example, that Isis and Cybele have for many years +past left comparatively few worshippers to Mars, Apollo,—even +to Jupiter. It is lamentable; but it is true. +I have heard that unless on some very great day, a gift +is now quite a rarity upon the altar of any of the true +ancient deities of Rome. Egypt and Mount Ida have +done this; and why should not Palestine succeed as +well as either? In the meantime, the enlightened +contemplate every different manifestation of the superstitious +principle with equal indifference; and, I confess +to you, I have been a little surprised to perceive how +far Trajan is from imitating their example. But that +Chæronæan master of his, that Plutarch, was always an +old woman; and I fear the Prince has not been able +to shake off the impression of his ridiculous stories.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Hush!</q> quoth the master of the day, <q>if it please +you, nothing can be said here against either Trajan or +his friends; and, as for Plutarch, he was one of the +pleasantest fellows that I ever met with.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Sabinus, desirous of restoring the harmony of the +assembly, called forthwith on a musical senior, to join +him in a song. The gentleman required solicitation, +but at last announced his consent to attempt the female +part in the duet of Horace and Lydia. Sabinus, always +ready, began to roar out the tender words of regret and +expostulation which the most elegant of poets has ascribed +to himself; and the delicate squeaking response +of our wrinkled Lydia formed an agreeable contrast. +</p> + +<pb n="312"/><anchor id="Pg312"/> + +<p> +All, in short, were once more in perfect good humour, +when another soldier appeared behind the couch of the +president, and handed to him what seemed to be another +billet of the same complexion. He tossed the paper as +before to my friend, who looked very serious as he read +it.—<q>Caius,</q> he whispered, <q>an additional guard is +ordered to the Palatine—and the reason is said to be +that the rest of the Christian prisoners are to be examined, +within an hour, by the Emperor himself.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I had scarcely had a moment to compose myself, +when one of the slaves in attendance signified that a +person wished to speak with me in the anti-chamber. +It was Dromo.—<q>Sir,</q> said he, <q>I have no time for +explanation. Silo wishes to see you—I left Boto with +him at the Mammertine.</q> +</p> + +<p> +As we walked from the camp, Sabinus, with his +guard, passed without noticing me; and I received +some explanations which I must give to you very +briefly. Boto, mistrusting his recollection of my instructions, +had requested Dromo to assist him in finding +his way to the Mammertine; and the Cretan had come +to be witness of a scene, which, in spite of his sarcastic +disposition, he could not narrate without tokens of +sympathy. I mentioned to you that my faithful slave, +in coming with me to Rome, had indulged the hope of +meeting once more with a brother, who many years +before had been carried off from Britain. I smiled +when the poor man expressed confidence that he should +find out this ere he had been many days in the metropolis +of the world. But now, in truth, a fortunate +accident had recompensed much ill-regulated search. +He had found his brother, and he had found him in the +<pb n="313"/><anchor id="Pg313"/>Mammertine. That very brother was Silo, to whose +kindness I, and one dearer than myself, had been so +deeply indebted. The Cretan, himself a slave and an +exile, had partaken in the feelings of the long-lost +brothers, and hastened to bring me from the camp, +that Boto might be spared the pain of immediately +parting from Silo. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="5" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="314"/><anchor id="Pg314"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter V"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter V"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER V.</hi></head> + +<p> +I had hurried along the darkening streets, and up +the ascent of the Capitoline, scarce listening to the +story of the Cretan. On reaching the summit, we +found the courts about the Temple of Jupiter already +occupied by detachments of foot. I hastened to the +Mammertine—and before the postern opened to admit +us, the Prætorian squadron had drawn up at the +great gate. Sabinus beckoned me to him. <q>Caius,</q> +said he, stooping on his horse, <q>would to heaven I had +been spared this duty! Cotilius comes forth this moment, +and then we go back to the Palatine; and I fear—I +fear we are to guard thither your Athanasia. If +you wish to enter the prison, quicken your steps.</q> +</p> + +<p> +We had scarcely entered the inner-court, ere Sabinus +also, and about a score of his Prætorians, rode into it. +Silo and Boto were standing together; and both had +already hastened towards me; but the jailer, seeing the +Centurion, was constrained to part from me with one +hurried word:—<q>Pity me, for I also am most wretched. +But you know the way—here, take this key—hasten +to my dear lady, and tell her what commands have +come.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Alas! I said I to myself, of what tidings am I doomed +<pb n="315"/><anchor id="Pg315"/>ever to be the messenger!—but she was alone; and how +could I shrink from any pain that might perhaps alleviate +hers? I took the key, glided along the corridors, +and stood once more at the door of the chamber in which +I had parted from Athanasia. No voice answered to +my knock; I repeated it three times, and then, agitated +with indistinct apprehension, hesitated no longer to +open it. No lamp was burning within the chamber, +but from without there entered a wavering glare of +deep saffron-coloured light, which shewed me Athanasia +extended on her couch. Its ominous and troubled +hue had no power to mar the image of her sleeping +tranquillity. I hung over her for a moment, and was +about to disturb that slumber—perhaps the last slumber +of peace and innocence—when the chamber-walls were +visited with a yet deeper glare. <q>Caius,</q> she whispered, +as I stepped from beside the couch; <q>why do you leave +me? stay, Valerius.</q> I looked back, but her eye-lids +were still closed; the same calm smile was upon her +dreaming lips. The light streamed redder and more +red. All in an instant became as quiet without as +within. I approached the window, and saw Cotilius +standing in the midst of the court; Sabinus and Silo +near him; the horsemen drawn up on either side, and a +soldier close behind resting upon an unsheathed sword. +I saw the keen blue eye as fierce as ever. I saw that +the blood was still fervid in his cheeks: for the complexion +of this man was of the same bold and florid +brightness so uncommon in Italy, which you have seen +represented in the pictures of Sylla, and even the blaze +of the torches seemed to strive in vain to heighten its +natural scarlet. The soldier had lifted his sword, and +<pb n="316"/><anchor id="Pg316"/>my eye was fixed, as by fascination, when suddenly a +deep voice was heard amidst the deadly silence—<q>Cotilius!—look +up, Cotilius!</q> +</p> + +<p> +Aurelius, the Christian priest, standing at an open +window, not far distant from that at which I was +placed, stretched forth his fettered hand as he spake:—<q>Cotilius! +I charge thee, look upon the hand from +which the blessed water of baptism was cast upon +thy head. I charge thee, look upon me, and say, ere +yet the blow be given, upon what hope thy thoughts +are fixed?—Is this sword bared against the rebel of +Cæsar, or a martyr of Jesus?—I charge thee, speak; +and for thy soul’s sake speak truly.</q> +</p> + +<p> +A bitter motion of derision passed over his lips, and +he nodded, as if impatiently, to the Prætorian. Instinctively +I turned me from the spectacle, and my eye +rested again upon the couch of Athanasia—but not upon +the vision of her tranquillity. The clap with which +the corpse fell upon the stones had, perhaps, reached +the sleeping ear, and we know with what swiftness +thoughts chase thoughts in the wilderness of dreams. +So it was that she started at the very moment when +the blow was given; and she whispered—for it was still +but a deep whisper—<q>Spare me, Trajan, Cæsar, Prince—have +pity on my youth—strengthen, strengthen me +good Lord!—Fie! fie! we must not lie to save life. +Felix—Valerius—come close to me, Caius—Fie! let +us remember we are Romans—’Tis the trumpet——</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Prætorian trumpet sounded the march in the +court below, and Athanasia, starting from her sleep, +gazed wildly around the reddened chamber. The blast +of the trumpet was indeed in her ear—and Valerius +<pb n="317"/><anchor id="Pg317"/>hung over her—but after a moment the cloud of the +broken dream passed away, and the maiden smiled as +she extended her hand to me from the couch, and began +to gather up the ringlets that floated all down upon +her shoulder. She blushed and smiled mournfully, and +asked me hastily whence I came, and for what purpose +I had come; but before I could answer, the glare that +was yet in the chamber seemed anew to be perplexing +her: and she gazed from me to the red walls, and from +them to me again: and then once more the trumpet +was blown, and Athanasia sprung from her couch. I +know not in what terms I was essaying to tell her what +was the truth, but I know that ere I had said many +words, she discovered my meaning. For a moment she +looked deadly pale, in spite of all the glare of the torch-beams; +but she recovered herself, and said in a voice +that sounded almost as if it came from a light heart,—<q>But +Caius, I must not go to Cæsar, without having +at least a garland on my head. Stay here, Valerius, +and I shall be ready anon—quite ready.</q> +</p> + +<p> +It seemed to me as if she were less hasty than she +had promised, yet many minutes elapsed not ere she +returned. She plucked a blossom from her hair as she +drew near to me, and said, <q>Take it: you must not +refuse one token more; this also is a sacred gift. Caius, +you must learn never to look upon it without kissing +these red streaks—these blessed streaks of the Christian +flower.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I took the flower from her hand, and pressed it to my +lips; and I remembered that the very first day I saw +Athanasia, she had plucked such an one, when apart +from all the rest, in the gardens of Capito. I told her +<pb n="318"/><anchor id="Pg318"/>what I remembered; and it seemed as if the little circumstance +had called up all the image of peaceful days; +for once more sorrowfulness gathered upon her countenance. +If the tear was ready, however, it was not permitted +to drop; and Athanasia returned again to her +flower. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Do you think there are any of them in Britain?</q> +said she; <q>or do you think that they would grow +there? You must go to my dear uncle, and he will +not deny you, when you tell him that it is for my +sake he is to give you some of his. They call it the +Passion-flower—’tis an emblem of an awful thing. +Caius, these purple streaks are like trickling drops; and +here, look ye, they are all round the flower. Is it not +very like a bloody crown upon a pale brow? I will +take one of them in my hand, too, Caius; and methinks +I shall not disgrace myself when I look upon it, even +though Trajan should be frowning upon me.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I had not the heart to interrupt her; but heard +silently all she said, and I thought she said the words +quickly and eagerly, as if she feared to be interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +The old priest came into the chamber while she was +yet speaking so, and said very composedly, <q>Come, my +dear child, our friend has sent again for us, and the +soldiers have been waiting already some space, who are +to convey us to the Palatine. Come, children, we must +part for a moment—perhaps it may be but for a moment—and +Valerius may remain here till we return +to him. Here, at least, dear Caius, you shall have the +earliest tidings, and the surest.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The good man took Athanasia by the hand, and she, +smiling now at length more serenely than ever, said +<pb n="319"/><anchor id="Pg319"/>only, <q>Farewell, then, Caius, for a little moment!</q> +And so, drawing her veil over her face, she passed away +from before me, giving, I think, more support to the +ancient Aurelius than, in her turn, she received from +him. I began to follow them, but the priest waved his +hand as if to forbid me:—the door closed after them, +and I was alone. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="6" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="320"/><anchor id="Pg320"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter VI"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter VI"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER VI.</hi></head> + +<p> +I know not, my friends, how to proceed with the +narrative of what followed. Thoughts, passions, fears, +hopes, succeeding so rapidly, give to that strange night, +when I look back upon it through the vista of years, +the likeness of some incoherent, agonizing dream. +Much, without doubt, of what passed within my own +mind I have forgotten; but it seems to me as if what I +saw or heard were still present in the distinctness of +reality. That chamber in the Mammertine! Its walls +are before me blazing with the reflection of torch-light, +and then again, all dim and shadowy—the stars +shining feebly upon them from the twilight sky—every +thing around lonely and silent, except the voice +of Silo’s little maiden,—bewailing no doubt in her +privacy the departure of Athanasia. +</p> + +<p> +Her father after a little time rejoined me. <q>Sir,</q> +said he, <q>all is now quiet here; will you walk with me +towards the Palatine, that we may at least be near to +know what is reported of their proceedings? My +brother will stay here till we return.</q> +</p> + +<p> +We soon had descended from the Capitoline, passed +through the silent Forum, and gained the brow of the +opposite eminence, where, as shortly before at the +Mam<pb n="321"/><anchor id="Pg321"/>mertine, all was light and tumult. Every court was +guarded with soldiery, and groups of busy men were +passing continually about the imperial gates and porticos. +Silo led me round and round the buildings, till +we reached what seemed an abandoned wing. <q>Sir,</q> +said he, <q>you do not know more familiarly the house in +which you were born and reared, than I do every corner +within these wide walls. But I have not crossed the +threshold since the day Cæsar died.—I was the slave +of Domitian, and he gave me my freedom.—He was +kind to his household.</q> +</p> + +<p> +We entered beneath a small portico—and Silo drew +a key from his bosom. The lock, after two or three trials, +yielded to its pressure. A large empty hall received us, +the circumference of which was scarcely visible by the +light of the newly-risen moon, streaming down from a +cupola. +</p> + +<p> +Another and another sombre chamber we in like +manner traversed, till at length Silo opened one so +comparatively light, that I started back, apprehending +we had intruded farther than he intended. A second +glance, however, seemed to indicate that we were still +in the region of desolation, for a statue lay in the midst +of the floor, one of its limbs snapped over, as if it had +fallen and been permitted to remain. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Where are we, Silo?</q> I whispered, <q>what means +this unnatural light among so many symptoms of confusion?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Sir,</q> said the freedman, <q>this is the place in which +alone Domitian used to eat and sleep, and walk about +for the last months of his life, when he was jealous of +all men; and he contrived these walls, covered all over +<pb n="322"/><anchor id="Pg322"/>with the shining Ethiopian stone, that no one might be +able to approach him without being discovered. Even +when a slave entered, he would start as if every side of +the chamber had been invaded by some host of men; +fifty different reflections of one trembling eunuch. It +was, they say, behind this shattered piece of marble that +he ran when he had felt the first treacherous blow. +Yonder in the corner is the couch he slept upon, and he +had always a dagger under his head, and he called to +the little page that was waiting upon him to fetch it +from the place; but the scabbard only remained; and +then in came Parthenius and Claudianus, and the gladiator, +and the rest, who soon finished what the cunning +Stephanus had begun. Let us go on;—we have not yet +reached the place to which I wished to bring you—but +it is not far off now.</q> +</p> + +<p> +With this Silo walked to the end of the melancholy +chamber, and pressing upon a secret spring, where no +door was apparent, opened the way into a room, darker +and smaller than any of those through which we had +come. He then said to me, <q>Now, sir, you must not +venture upon one whisper more—you touch on the +very heart of Domitian’s privacy. It is possible that +the place I have been leading you to may have been +shut up—it may exist no longer; but the state in which +all things are found here makes me think it more likely +that Trajan has never been master of its secret. And +in that case, we shall be able both to see and to hear, +without being either seen or heard, exactly as Domitian +used to do, when there was any council held either in +the Mars or the Apollo.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I started at the boldness of the project which now, +<pb n="323"/><anchor id="Pg323"/>for the first time, I understood; but Silo laid his +finger on his lip again,—cautiously lifted up a piece +of the dark-red cloth with which this chamber was +hung,—and essayed another spring in the pannelling +beneath. Total darkness appeared to be beyond; but +the jailer motioning to me to remain for a moment +where I was, and to keep up the hanging, glided boldly +into the recess. I wondered how he should tread so +lightly, that I could not perceive the least echo; but +this no longer surprised me, when I had the sign to +follow. The floor felt beneath my foot as if it were +stuffed like a pillow; and, after I had dropped the +hanging, every thing was totally dark, as it had at first +appeared to me, except only at certain points, separate +and aloft, which let in gleams of light, manifestly artificial. +Silo, taking hold of me by the hand, conducted +me up some steps towards the nearest of these tiny +apertures; and, as I approached it, I heard distinctly +the voices of persons talking together in the room beyond. +I did not draw my breath, you may well believe, +with much boldness; but my eye was soon fixed +at one of the crevices, and, after the first dazzle was +over, I saw clearly. Silo took his station by my side, +gazing through another of these loop-holes, which, that +you may understand every thing, were evidently quite +concealed among the rich carved-work of an ivory +cornice. +</p> + +<p> +The chamber was lighted by three tall candelabra of +silver, close beside one of which was placed a long table +covered with an infinity of scrolls and tablets. One +person, who had his back turned towards us, was +writing, and two others, in one of whom I instantly +<pb n="324"/><anchor id="Pg324"/>recognized the Emperor, were walking up and down on +the other side. +</p> + +<p> +<q>No, Palma,</q> said Trajan, for it was that old favourite +whom he addressed—<q>I have made up my +mind as to this matter. I shall never permit any +curious inquisition as to private opinion. Every man +has a right, without question, to think—to believe—exactly +what pleases him; and I shall concede as much +in favour of every woman, Palma, if you will have it +so. But it is totally a different affair, when the fact, no +matter how, is forced upon my knowledge, that a subject, +no matter who or what he be—a subject of the +Roman empire, refuses to comply with the first, the +elemental, and the most essential of the laws. The +man—aye or the woman—that confesses in my presence +contempt for the deities whom the commonwealth +acknowledges in every step of its procedure—that person +is a criminal; and I cannot dismiss him unpunished, +without injuring the commonwealth by the display +of weakness in its chief. As for these poor fanatics +themselves, it is the penalty of my station that I must +control my feelings.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>But you are satisfied, my lord,</q> said Palma, <q>that +these people are quite innocent as to Cotilius’s designs; +and as it was upon that suspicion they were apprehended, +perhaps it may be possible——</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yes, Palma,</q> interrupted the Prince; <q>quite possible +and quite easy, provided they will condescend to +save themselves by the most trivial acknowledgment of +the sort which, I repeat to you, I do and must consider +as absolutely necessary. And women too—and girls +forsooth—I suppose you would have me wait till the +<pb n="325"/><anchor id="Pg325"/>very urchins on the street were gathering into knots to +discuss the nature of the Gods.—Do you remember what +Plato says?</q>— +</p> + +<p> +<q>No, my lord, I do not know to what you refer.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Why, Plato says that nobody can ever understand +any thing accurately about the Deity, and that, if he +could, he would have no right to communicate his discoveries +to others; the passage is in the Timæus, and +Tully has translated it besides. And is it to be endured +that these modest fanatics are to do every hour what +the Platos and the Ciceros spoke of in such terms as +these? I think you carry your tolerance a little farther +than might have been expected from a disciple of the +Academy.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I despise them, my lord, as much as yourself; but, +to tell you the truth, it is this young lady that moves +me to speak thus—and I crave your pardon, if I have +spoken with too much freedom.—Her father was one of +the best soldiers Titus had.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>The more is the pity, Palma. Have you ever seen +the girl yourself? Did you give orders that she should +be brought hither? I have not the least objection that +you should have half an hour, or an hour if you will, +to talk with her quietly; perhaps your eloquence may +have the effect we desire.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I doubt it, my lord, I greatly doubt it,</q> he replied; +<q>but, indeed, I know not whether she be yet here—Did +you not send to the Mammertine?</q> +</p> + +<p> +The man writing at the table, to whom this interrogation +was addressed, said, <q>I believe, sir, both this +lady and the old man that was in the same prison are +now in attendance.</q> And upon this Trajan and Palma +<pb n="326"/><anchor id="Pg326"/>retired together towards the farther end of the apartment, +where they conversed for some minutes in a tone +so low, that I could not understand any thing of what +was said. Trajan at length turned from his favourite +with an air, as I thought, of some little displeasure, and +said aloud, coming back into the middle of the room,—<q>I +know it is so; but what is that to the affair in hand? +I am very sorry for the Sempronii, but I doubt if even +they would be so unreasonable as you are.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Will you not see the poor girl yourself, Cæsar?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You do not need to be told, that my seeing her +would only make it more difficult for me to do that, +which, seeing or not seeing her, I know to be my duty. +Do you accept of my proposal? Are you willing to try +the effect of your own persuasion? I promise you, +if you succeed, I shall rejoice not less heartily than +yourself; but it is rather too much to imagine that I +am personally to interfere about such an affair as this—an +affair which, the more I think of it, seems to me to +be the more perfectly contemptible. Nay, do not suppose +it is this poor girl I am talking of—I mean the +whole of this Jewish, this Christian affair, which does +indeed appear to me to be the most bare-faced absurdity, +that ever was permitted to disturb the tranquillity of +the empire. A mean and savage nation have but just +suffered the penalty of obstinacy and treachery alike +unequalled, and from them—from the scattered embers +of this extinguished fire, we are to allow a new flame +to be kindled—ay, and that in the very centre of +Rome. I tell you, that if my own hand were to be +scorched in the cause, I would disperse this combustion +to the winds of heaven; I tell you, that I stand here +<pb n="327"/><anchor id="Pg327"/>Cæsar, and that I would rather be chained to the oar, +than suffer, while the power to prevent it is mine, the +tiniest speck to be thrown upon the Roman majesty. +By all the Gods, Palma, it is enough to make a man +sick to think of the madness that is in this world, and +of the iron arguments by which we are compelled to +keep those from harming us, that at first sight of them +excite no feeling but our pity. But I am weary of these +very names of Palestine—Jew—Christian. Go to this +foolish girl, and try what you can make of her; I give +you fair warning—no breeders of young Christians +here.</q> +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="7" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="328"/><anchor id="Pg328"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter VII"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter VII"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER VII.</hi></head> + +<p> +Cornelius Palma, after the Prince retired, was apparently +for some space busied with his reflections. He +then talked in a whispering manner with the secretary, +and moved towards an extremity of the chamber. +But the moment Silo perceived this, he plucked my +sleeve, and drew me to the other end of our closet, +where, as I have told you, the light had admittance in +a similar manner. Here another of the imperial apartments +was visible in equal distinctness; and in it +appeared Athanasia and her friend, as waiting now at +length in entire composure the moment when they should +be summoned. +</p> + +<p> +Palma entering, both rose, and he, returning their +salutation, remained before them for a moment in +silence, his eyes fixed on Athanasia. It was to +Aurelius, nevertheless, that his first words were +addressed:—<q>From what has been reported of your +behaviour at the execution of Cotilius, I fear there is +nothing to be gained by speaking to <hi rend="italic">you</hi>, concerning the +only means by which your own safety can yet be +secured. You are obstinate, old man, in your superstition?</q>—<q>Noble +Palma,</q> said the priest, <q>contempt +is the only thing I fear from men. But I thank my +<pb n="329"/><anchor id="Pg329"/>God, that it is the only thing I have it in my power to +avoid.</q>—<q>I will not argue with you,</q> answered Palma, +pointing to a door near him:—<q>It was not with any +purpose of bending you, that I undertook this painful +office. I desire to speak in freedom with one whose +case is, I trust, less hopeless.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The old man, pointing to his fetters, said meekly, +<q>Let them guard me whither it pleases you.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Sir,</q> said Athanasia, <q>I pray you let Aurelius +remain; imagine not that I shall either hear or answer +less freely because of my friend’s presence.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>He will, at least, retire to the other end of the +chamber,</q> said Palma—<q>and interfere no farther.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The priest drew back;—Athanasia, on her part, seeing +that Palma hesitated, and seemed at a loss how to +begin, said to him in a tone of modest composure:—<q>Noble +sir, if your purpose be indeed as kind as I think +it is, I pray you spare me at least the pain that is needless, +and spare yourself what I am sure is painful to +you. You see my youth and my sex, and it is not unnatural +for you to think as you do; but know that my +faith is fixed, and that I hope I shall not be deserted, +when I strive even at the last moment to do it no dishonour.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>This gray beard,</q> said Palma, <q>has made you, then, +thoroughly a Christian?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I would it were so,</q> she answered—<q>I would to +God it were so!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Lady,</q> resumed Palma, <q>we have knowledge both +of your father’s high character, and of your own amiable +dispositions. If you persist in this manner, you +will give grief to Cæsar; and as for your family, +<pb n="330"/><anchor id="Pg330"/>have you yet seriously considered into what misery they +must be plunged?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Sir,</q> she replied, <q>this is cruel kindness. I have +considered all things.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Young maiden,</q> continued Palma, <q>the touch of +the physician’s knife is painful, yet his hand must not +falter. But I have sent for those, who, I hope, may +speak more effectually.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Senator turned from the pedestal on which he +had been leaning, and walked to the door over against +where Aurelius was sitting: and after a moment +had elapsed, there entered, even as I had anticipated, +both her uncles, Lucius and Velius. Behind them came, +wrapped in her consecrated veil, the Priestess of Apollo; +and last of all, gazing wildly around, her apparel disordered, +the friend of her youth, the sister of her bosom,—she +to whom in all things, save one, Athanasia’s heart +had ever been laid open. The two Patricians advanced, +deeply dejected, towards the place where Athanasia +stood waiting their approach. The stately Priestess, +walking yet more slowly, lifted the veil from her face, +which was pale and calm as marble. But when the youthful +companion at last rested her eye upon her friend, and +the fettered hands clasped together on that bosom, she +rushed past them all, and was folded in a cold embrace; +for though Athanasia pressed Sempronia to her bosom, +I saw also that she trembled from head to foot, and that +her eyes were riveted on those who approached with +seriousness more terrible than the passion of young +sympathy. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Athanasia,</q> said Lucius, taking her by the hand, +<q>look not upon us thus; we come as to a daughter.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="331"/><anchor id="Pg331"/> + +<p> +<q>Dearest,</q> said old Velius, <q>listen to thy true friends. +Do you put more faith in the words of strangers than +in the blood of kindred—the affection of your father’s +brothers—the guardians of his dear orphan?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Wo is me!</q> said Athanasia—<q>O God, strengthen +me! Why, oh, why am I forced to wound these kind +hearts! Have pity upon me, have pity upon me—you +know not what you speak of, else you would all be +silent.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Weep,</q> said the Priestess; <q>weep, and weep largely. +There is yet time to repent. Abjure this madness; let +the last of your tears be shed upon the altars of your +paternal Gods, and they also will be merciful. Nay, +tremble not when you hear my voice, Athanasia. I +love you as tenderly as the rest, and if you have deceived +me also, I have long since pardoned.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Priestess kissed her forehead; and she bowed her +head, weeping at length audibly. But Athanasia speedily +recovered herself, and gently removing the hands of +Sempronia, stood erect again in the midst. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Dear friends,</q> said she, <q>the moments you have to +be with me are numbered; what avails it that they +should be spent in words that can have no effect? I +have been baptized in the name of the one true God—I +have partaken of the symbols of the Christian mystery—and +I have no more power to bring myself out of this +peril, than he that stands in the front rank—without +sword or buckler—deprived of all things but his +honour.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Athanasia!</q> said Velius, <q>alas! my dear girl, what +madness is this? Do you hold yourself wiser than all +the wise men, and all the good, and all the great men +<pb n="332"/><anchor id="Pg332"/>that have ever lived in Rome? Do you deem yourself +able to penetrate mysteries from which all the sages of +the earth have retreated with humility? Consider with +yourself—remember the modesty that might be becoming +in your tender years—and, I must speak the +truth, your ignorance.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Oh, sir!</q> she answered, <q>believe not that I have +been brought into this place, because of my being puffed +up with emptiness of conceit. I know well that I am +a poor, young, unlearned creature; but God gives not +according to our deserts; and because I am poor and +ignorant, must I therefore reject the promise of his +riches, and the great light that has been manifested to +me,—which, would to God it had also been to you, +despite the perils which a dark world has thrown +around it.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>O Athanasia!</q> said young Sempronia, <q>I know +the secrets of your heart, although you have kept from +me some of them. Think, dear sister, of all the love +that we bear to you—and, oh! think of Valerius.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>The more, then, is the sacrifice!</q> said Athanasia. +<q>Caius Valerius also is a Christian—at least I hope in +God he will soon be sealed into our brotherhood.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Amen! amen!</q> said Aurelius. +</p> + +<p> +The Priestess turned round when he uttered this, and +observing that he also was fettered, <q>Blasphemer!</q> +cried she, <q>behold the end of your frenzy. Your eyes +are dim, your clay is already yearning, it may be, to be +sprinkled into ashes; but behold your victim. Ye Gods +that see all things, have mercy upon the errors of deceived, +ensnared, murdered youth! Hoary Apostate! +feeble though you be, may strength be given to you in +<pb n="333"/><anchor id="Pg333"/>anger, that you may taste the full struggle and the true +agony. May you be strong to wrestle, that you may +fall slowly, and feel your fall! Would to the Gods, +just and merciful, that you might struggle and fall +alone!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Rash woman,</q> said the manacled Saint, <q>most surely +your last wish is mine. But why is it that you have +come hither with cruel words, to imbitter equally the +last moments of a life that is dear to you, and a life that +you despise? You speak of ignorance and of deceit. +Little know ye who are the deceived. We are the servants +of the living God, whose light will soon shine +abroad among the nations, and quench glimmering +tapers, fashioned with the hands of men, with which, +hitherto, ye have sat contented amidst darkness. Cæsar +may bind and slay—but think ye that the spirit is his +to do with it what he will? Think ye that chains and +dungeons, and the sword of man can alter the course of +things that are to be, or shake from its purpose the will +of Him, in whom, blind and ignorant, ye refuse to behold +the image of the Maker of all—shutting eyes, and +ears, and your proud hearts; and blaspheming against +the God of heaven, whose glory ye ascribe to stocks and +stones, and to the ghosts of wicked and bloody tyrants, +long since mouldered into dust,—and to the sun, and +the moon, and the stars of the sky, which God set there +to rule the day and the night, even as he lets loose his +winds to scatter the leaves of the forest, and to lift up +the waves of the great deep?—Leave us, I beseech you.—The +young and the old are alike steadfast, for God is +our strength, and he bestows it on them that ask for it +in the name of the Redeemer.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="334"/><anchor id="Pg334"/> + +<p> +<q>Peace, thou accursed!</q> said the Priestess; <q>I serve +the altar, and came not hither to hear the Gods of heaven +and earth insulted by the lips of hardened impiety.—Athanasia! +will you go with us, or will you stay here, +and partake the fate of this madman?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>O God!</q> cried the maiden; <q>how shall I speak +that they may at length hear me!—Friends—dear +friends—if you have any love, any compassion, I pray +you kiss me once, and bid me farewell kindly, and lay +my ashes in the sepulchre of my fathers—beside the +urn of my mother. Fear not that I will disturb the +repose of the place—I shall die in anger against no one, +and I shall have rest at length when I am relieved from +this struggle. Pardon, if in any thing besides I ever +gave you pain—remember none of my offences but +this—think of me kindly. And go now, dear friends; +kiss my lips in love, and leave me to bear that which +must be borne, since there is no escape but in lying, and +in baseness, and in utter perdition here and hereafter. +May the Lord strengthen his day soon, and may ye all +bless the full light, although now ye are startled by the +redness of the dawn! Farewell—kiss me, Velius—kiss +me, Lucius—my aunt also will kiss me.</q> +</p> + +<p> +They did kiss her, and tears were mingled with their +embraces; and they said no more, but parted from her +where she was. Palma himself lifted the desolate +Sempronia from the ground, and he and her father carried +her away senseless, her tresses sweeping the pavement +as they moved. +</p> + +<p> +The prisoners were alone. <q>The moment is come,</q> +said Silo; <q>now, sir, prepare yourself to risk every +thing where every thing may be gained.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="335"/><anchor id="Pg335"/> + +<p> +He did not whisper this, but spake the words boldly; +and ere I could either answer any thing, or form any +guess as to his meaning, he had leaped down from my +side, and thrown open another secret spring. Silo +rushed in, and I followed him. It was all done so +rapidly, that I scarce remember how. I cannot, indeed, +forget the wild and vacant stare of Athanasia, the cry +which escaped from her lips, nor the fervour with which +she sunk into my embrace. But all the rest is a dream. +The door closed swiftly behind us;—swiftly I ran, +bearing the maiden in my arms through all the long +course of those deserted chambers. Door after door flew +open before us. All alike, breathless and speechless, we +ran on. We reached the last of the chambers, the wide +and echoing saloon, ere my heart had recovered from +the first palpitation of surprise; and a moment after +we breathed once more the free air of heaven. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Stop not,</q> said I, <q>for the sake of God. Hasten, +Silo, it is you that must guide us.</q>—<q>Ha!</q> said he, +<q>already have they perceived it? Great God! after +all, is it in vain?</q> We heard shout echoing shout, and +the clapping of doors. <q>Treachery, treachery! Escape, +escape!</q>—and trumpet and horn mingled in the clamour +of surprise, wrath, terror. <q>Ride, ride,</q> screamed a +voice high over all the tumult—<q>ride this instant—guard +every avenue—search every corner—the wing +of Domitian!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>We are lost,</q> said Silo;—<q>we can never reach the +gate.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>To the Temple of Apollo!</q> said I; <q>the Priestess +will shelter Athanasia.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Thank God,</q> whispered Silo, <q>there is one chance +<pb n="336"/><anchor id="Pg336"/>more.</q>—And so we began again to run swiftly, keeping +close beneath the shaded wall of the edifice, and then +threading many narrow passages of the hanging gardens +of Adonis, we reached indeed the adjoining court of +the Palatine, and found ourselves, where all was as yet +silent and undisturbed, under the sacred portico. The +great gate was barred. Athanasia herself pointed out +a postern, and we stood within the temple. +</p> + +<p> +It was filled as before, (for here the alternations of +day and night made no difference,) with the soft and +beautiful radiance proceeding from the tree of lamps. +But the fire on the altar burned high and clear, as if +recently trimmed, and behind its blaze stood one of the +ministering damsels. Her hand held the chain of the +censer, and she was swinging it slowly, while the clouds +of fragrant smoke rolled high up above the flames;—and +the near light, and the intervening smoke, and the +occupation with which she was busied, prevented her +from at first perceiving what intrusion had been made +on the solitude of the place. Athanasia ran on, and +clasping the knees of the astonished girl with her fettered +hands, began to implore her by the memory of old +affection and companionship, and for the sake of all +that was dear to her, to give escape, if escape were +possible—at least to give concealment. The girl had +dropped the censer from her hand, and seemed utterly +confused, and unable to guess the meaning of what she +saw and heard. <q>Lady!</q> cried Silo, falling by the +side of Athanasia—<q>Oh, lady! stand not here considering, +for this is the very moment of utmost peril. +Behold these fetters—they tell you from what her +flight hath been.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="337"/><anchor id="Pg337"/> + +<p> +The girl grasped the hands of Athanasia, and gazed +upon the manacles, and still seemed quite amazed and +stupified; and while Silo was renewing his entreaties, +we heard suddenly some one trying to open the postern +which the freedman had fastened behind us. Once and +again a violent hand essayed to undo the bolt, and then +all was quiet again. And in a moment after, the great +gate was itself thrown open, and the Priestess entered, +followed by her two brothers, who supported between +them the yet faint and weeping young Sempronia. +</p> + +<p> +In a moment Athanasia had rushed across the temple, +and knelt down with her forehead to the ground, close +by where the feet of her haughty kinswoman were +planted. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Unhappy!</q> said she; <q>by what magic do I behold +you here? How have you escaped? and why—oh! +why fled hither? Think ye, that here, in the Temple +of Apollo, the priestess of an insulted God can give +shelter to blasphemy flying from the arms of justice? +Ha! and he, too, is here!—Outcast! how durst thou? +Speak, unhappy Athanasia—every thing is dark, and I +see only that you have brought hither——</q>—<q>Friends, +friends—oh! blame them not,</q> interrupted the maiden—<q>Oh! +blame them not for venturing all to save me. +Oh! help us, and help speedily—for they search every +where, and they may speedily be here.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Here?</q> cried the priestess—<q>who, I pray you? Ha! +run, fly, bolt the door. If Cæsar speaks, I answer.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The ring of arms, and voices of angry men, were +heard distinctly approaching. In a moment more we +could hear them talking together beneath the very portico, +and trying, in their turn, to thrust open the massive +<pb n="338"/><anchor id="Pg338"/>valves of the temple. <q>Who calls there?</q> cried the +Priestess—<q>Who calls and knocks? If a suppliant +approaches, let him come as a suppliant.</q>—<q>Castor! +We are no suppliants,</q> answered a rough voice:—<q>Dead +or alive, you must give up our pretty Christians. Come, +come, my sly masters; yield, yield, there is no flying +from Cæsar.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Peace, insolent!</q> quoth the Priestess—<q>peace, +and begone! This is the Temple of Apollo, and ye shall +find no Christians here. Turn, rude man, and dread the +arm that guarded Delphos!</q> And saying so, she at +length lifted up Athanasia, and moved towards the +other extremity of the fane, where, as I had occasion +once to tell you before, the private chamber of the +Priestess was situated on the right hand beyond the +statue of Apollo. In passing the image she halted an +instant, laid her hand on her eyes, and kissed its feet, +with a murmur of supplication; but that was her only +utterance: and the rest gave none. +</p> + +<p> +She thus led us across the chamber in which, on a +former day, I had heard Athanasia sing; and in like +manner, having taken a lamp in her hand, on through +the long passages which conduct towards the receptacle +wherein the Sybilline prophecies are said to be preserved. +She opened the door which she had, on that +earlier day, told me led into the repository of those +mysterious scrolls. Two inner doors appeared before +us; that to the left she opened likewise, and we perceived, +descending from its threshold, a dark flight of +steps, as if down into the centre of the rock. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Here,</q> said she, as she paused, and held the lamp +over the gloomy perspective—<q>here, at last, I leave +<pb n="339"/><anchor id="Pg339"/>you, having already done too much, whether I think +of the God I serve, or of Trajan, or of myself. But +for the blood of kindred not little may be dared. Go +with her, since you have come with her. More I cannot +do. Here—take this lamp; the door at the bottom +is fastened only from within; let it fall behind you, +and make what speed you may.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>One thing,</q> said Silo, <q>had better be done ere you +depart;</q> and so, very adroitly, he, by means of his +jailer’s key, relieved both of them from their fetters. +He then whispered, <q>Go no farther, Valerius; you may +rest assured that no one suspects us.</q> I saw that he +designed to return into the courts of the Palatine, and +so proceed homewards, as if ignorant of every thing +that had occurred. The good freedman had no other +course to pursue, either in duty to himself or to his +family. But for me, all my cares were here. I squeezed +by the hand both Lucius and Velius, and both warmly +returned my pressure. The Priestess gave the lamp into +my hand, and the door was shut upon us; and we +began, with hearts full of thankfulness, but not yet +composed enough to taste of lightness—with thankfulness +uppermost in our confused thoughts, and with no +steady footsteps, to descend into the unknown abyss. +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="8" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="340"/><anchor id="Pg340"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter VIII"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter VIII"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER VIII.</hi></head> + +<p> +The steps were abrupt and narrow; but in a few +minutes our feet became accustomed to them, and we +descended rapidly. After we had done so for some time, +we found ourselves in a low chamber of oblong form, +in the midst of which an iron stake was fixed into the +floor, having chains of ponderous workmanship attached +to its centre, and over against it, a narrow chair of +the same metal, it also immoveable. I asked Athanasia +to repose herself here for a moment; for it was evident +that the tumultuous evening had much worn out her +strength. But she said, shuddering, <q>No, not here, +Valerius; I never saw this place before, but the aspect +of it recals to me fearful stories. Here, wo is me, many +a poor wretch has expiated offences against the dignity +of the shrine, and the servants of its Demon. My father +knows, I doubt not, some humble Christian roof, beneath +which we may be safe until the first search be +over. Let us breathe at least the open air, and He +who has hitherto helped will not desert us.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>No, my children,</q> said Aurelius; <q>let us not +linger here. Christian roofs, indeed, are known to me, +both humble and lofty; but how to know how far +suspicion may already have extended?—or why should +we run any needless risk of bringing others into peril, +<pb n="341"/><anchor id="Pg341"/>having by God’s grace escaped ourselves, when all hope +as to this life had been utterly taken away? Let us +quit these foul precincts—let us quit them speedily—but +let us not rashly be seen in the busy city. There +is a place known to me, (and Athanasia also has visited +it heretofore,) where safety, I think, may be expected, +and where, if danger do come, it shall find no unnecessary +victim. Let us hasten to the Esquiline.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Thanks, father!</q> said Athanasia; <q>there no one +will seek us: there best shall our thanksgivings and +our prayers be offered. We will rest by the sepulchre +of our friend, and Valerius will go into the city, and +procure what things are needful.</q> +</p> + +<p> +We began the descent of another flight of steps, beyond +the dark chamber. This terminated at length in a +door, the bolts of which being withdrawn, we found +ourselves beneath the sky of night, at the extremity of +one of the wooded walks that skirt the southern base of +the Palatine—the remains of the Assyrian magnificence +which had once connected the Golden House of Nero +with the more modest structures of his predecessors. +I wrapped Athanasia in my cloak, and walked beside +her in my tunic; and Aurelius conducted us by many +windings, avoiding as far as was possible the glare of +the Suburra, all round about the edge of the city, to +the gardens which hang over the wall by the great +Esquiline Gate. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Is it here,</q> said I, when he paused—<q>is it in the +midst of this splendour that you hope to find a safe +obscurity?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Have patience,</q> replied the old man; <q>you are a +stranger:—and yet you speak what I should have heard +<pb n="342"/><anchor id="Pg342"/>without surprise from many that have spent all their +days in Rome. Few, indeed, ever think of entering a +region which is almost as extensive as the city itself, +and none, I think, are acquainted with all its labyrinths.</q> +</p> + +<p> +So saying, the priest led the way into one of the +groves. Its trees formed a dense canopy overhead; nor +could we pass without difficulty among the close-creeping +undergrowth. At length we reached the centre of the +wide thicket, and found a small space of soil comparatively +bare. The light of moon and star plunged down +there among the surrounding blackness of boughs, as +into some deep well, and shewed the entrance of a +natural grotto, which had, indeed, all the appearance of +oblivion and utter desertedness. <q>Confess,</q> said he, +<q>that I did not deceive you. But there is no hurry +now; let me taste once more the water of this forgotten +spring.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I had not observed a small fountain hard by the +mouth of the grotto, which, in former days, had +evidently been much cared for, although now almost +all its surface was covered with leaves. The marble +margin shewed dim with moss; nor had a statue just +within the entrance of the grot escaped this desolation. +Damp herbage obscured its recumbent limbs, and the +Parian stone had lost its brightness. <q>You can scarcely +see where the inscription was,</q> said Aurelius, <q rend="post: none">for the +letters are filled up or effaced; but I remember when +many admired it, and I can still repeat the lines—</q> +</p> + +<lg> +<l>‘Nymph of the grot, these sacred springs I keep,</l> +<l>And to the murmur of these waters sleep;</l> +<pb n="343"/><anchor id="Pg343"/><l>Ah! spare my slumbers, gently tread the cave,</l> +<l>And drink in silence, or in silence lave.’<note place="foot">So Pope has rendered the beautiful lines: + +<lg> +<l>Hujus Nympha Loci, sacri custodia fontis,</l> +<l>Dormio, dum blandæ sentio murmur aquæ;</l> +<l>Parce meum, quisquis tangis cava marmora, somnum</l> +<l>Rumpere; sive bibas, sive lavere, tace.</l> +</lg></note></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<q rend="pre: none">Little did they, who graved this command, conjecture +how well it was to be obeyed. But there should be +another inscription.—Ay, here it is,</q> said he, stepping +on a long flat piece of marble among the weeds. +I was advancing to examine the stone, but the old man +stopped me:—<q>What avails it to spell out the record? +Do you remember the story of Asinius? It was within +this very cavern that the man was butchered;<note place="foot">Asinius autem brevi illo tempore quasi in hortulos in <hi rend="italic">arenarias</hi> quasdam +juxta portam Exquiliniam perductus, occiditur.—Cic. <title rend="italic">Pro Cluent.</title></note> and +now you see both he and his monument are alike sinking +into forgetfulness. I believe, however, the monument +itself must bear the blame in part; for I have heard my +father say that he had been told this was a favourite +fountain until that slaughter.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Athanasia meantime had sat down by the grotto, +and was laving her forehead with the water of the +solitary fountain. Aurelius, too, dipped his hands in +the well, and tasted of the water, and then turning to +me, he said, with a grave smile, <q>Valerius, methinks +you are religious in your regard for the slumbers +of the nymph.</q> He whispered something into the +ear of Athanasia, and received an answer from her in +the same tone, ere he proceeded:—<q>Draw near—fear +not that I shall do any thing rashly—we owe all things +<pb n="344"/><anchor id="Pg344"/>to your love—we know we do; but speak plainly.—Do +you indeed desire to be admitted into the fellowship of +the true Faith? Let not the symbol of regeneration be +applied hastily. Without doubt, great were my joy +might my hands be honoured to shed the blessed water +of baptism upon the brow of dear Valerius.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Caius,</q> said Athanasia, <q>I know God has touched +your heart; why should this be delayed any longer? +You have shared the perils of the faithful. Partake +with them in good as in evil. Hesitate no longer; God +will perfect what hath been so begun.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Dearest friends!</q> said I, <q>if I hesitate, it is only +because I doubt if I am yet worthy. Surely I believe +that this is the right faith, and that there is no God but +He whom you worship.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Acceptable is humility in the sight of Heaven,</q> said +the priest; and he rose up from the place where he had +been sitting, and began, standing by the margin of the +well, to pour out words of thanksgiving and supplication, +such as I have never heard equalled by any lips +but his. The deep calm voice of the holy man sounded +both sweet and awful in the breathless air of midnight. +The tall black trees stood all around, like a wall, cutting +us off from the world, and from the thoughts of +the world; and the moon, steady in the serene sky, +seemed to shower down light and beauty upon nothing +in all the wide earth, but that little guarded space of +our seclusion. I stepped into the cool water of the +fountain. The old man stooped over me, and sprinkled +the drops upon my forehead, and the appointed words +were repeated. Aurelius kissed my brow, as I came +forth from the water, and Athanasia also drew slowly +<pb n="345"/><anchor id="Pg345"/>near, and then hastily she pressed my forehead with +trembling lips. +</p> + +<p> +We sate down together by the lonely well; and we +sate in silence, for I could not be without many thoughts +partaken by none but myself, at the moment when I +had thus, in the face of God and man, abjured the faith +of all my fathers, and passed into the communion of +the despised and persecuted Few; nor did either the +priest or Athanasia essay to disturb my meditations. +</p> + +<p> +There were moments (for I must not conceal from you +my weakness) in which I could scarcely help suspecting +that I had done something that was wrong. I thought +of my far distant mother; and I could not reflect without +pain upon the feelings with which I had every +reason to suppose that she, kind as she was, and merciful +in all things, would have contemplated the scene +which had passed. I thought of my dead parent too; +and that was yet more serious and awful. The conviction +of my own mind, in obedience to which I had +acted, relieved me, however, from any feelings of +self-reproach.—My father is dead, said I to myself—He +died in ignorance, and he has not been judged according +to the light, which never shone upon him. But +now—Oh, yes! it must be so—the darkness has passed +from before his eyes; and, if the spirits of the departed +ever visit, in the dim hours of silence, those who were +dear to them upon this earth, surely his venerable shade +stood by smiling while the forehead of his son was laved +with these blessed waters. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, minutes—hours, perhaps, glided away, +while troubled, and solemn, and tender thoughts thus +occupied by turns my bosom. The old priest sate by +<pb n="346"/><anchor id="Pg346"/>me, his arms folded on his breast, gazing upwards upon +the spangled glories of the firmament. Athanasia was +on the other side, close by the statue of the Sleeping +Naiad. From time to time, she too would fix her +eyes for a moment upon the untroubled beauty of the +moon; and then, stooping over the brink of the fountain, +once and again I saw its calm dark waters rippled +beneath her by the dropping of a tear. +</p> + +<p> +<q>My children,</q> said, at length, Aurelius, <q>methinks +more sadness is amongst us than might suit the remembrance +of what Providence has done for us, since the sun +that went down upon fear and sorrow is about to rise +upon many fair hopes. I am old; the world lies behind +me, save a remnant I know not how brief. It lies all +before you, and you have a light whereby to look upon +it, which my early day wanted. I trust that soon, very +soon, ye shall both be far from this city—I say both, +for I know well, go where ye may, ye will go together. +As for me, my lot is cast here, and here I will remain. +Caius, you must leave us betimes—you must return +into the city, and consult with your friends and hers, +how best Athanasia may be conveyed safely beyond the +bounds of Italy. Cæsar, indeed, rules every where; but +at a distance from Rome suspicion is, at least, less +watchful; and there is no precept given by which ye +are bound to seek unnecessary perils.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Aurelius,</q> said I—<q>dear father, think not but +that I have already been considering all these things +anxiously. As soon as I have seen you safely placed +within the retreat of which you have spoken, I shall +hasten to Licinius, my kinsman, who already, indeed, +must be feeling no small anxiety from my absence. I +<pb n="347"/><anchor id="Pg347"/>shall speak with him, and with both the Sempronii. +My own errand to the capital I value as nothing, and +I shall be ready on the instant, if Athanasia herself will +consent to partake my voyage.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yes, Caius,</q> said the father—<q>this child of God +will be your wife, and ye will both serve the Lord many +days, amidst the quiet valleys of your far off island.—Nay, +daughter, do not weep, for these are not common +days, and you must follow without fear the path which +God’s providence points out. Before ye go, my children, +I myself shall join your hands in the name of +our God.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Athanasia heard his words, and saw me gaze upon his +face, but she made no reply, except by the tears which +Aurelius rebuked, and a timid, yet grave and serious +pressure, with which she, when he had made an end of +speaking, returned the fervid pressure of my hand upon +hers. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Children,</q> said the old man, <q>there is no need of +words when hearts are open—the tears that ye have +shed together are the best earnest of the vows that ye +shall ere long, I trust, pronounce. Yet, let no rashness +attend your steps. The dawn must now be near, and +Athanasia and I had better retire into our protecting +covert. Valerius will leave us, and return at eventide. +Till then, fasting and praying, we shall give thanks for +our deliverance, and ask the aid that alone is precious +for the time that yet remains.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I had, fortunately, brought all the way with me the +lamp which lighted our steps down the mysterious +staircase, from the shrine of Apollo. Some little oil still +remained within it, and Aurelius soon struck a light, +<pb n="348"/><anchor id="Pg348"/>and, taking it in his hand, began to enter before us the +dark cavern, by the mouth of which we had all this +while been sitting. You, perhaps, have never heard of +those strange excavations, the whole extent of which +has probably never been known to any one person, but +which appear, indeed, as the priest had said, to be +almost co-extensive with the great city beneath which +they are placed. For what purpose they were at first +dug, is a subject which has long exercised the conjectures +of those fond of penetrating into the origin +of things, and the customs of antiquity. By some it +is supposed, that in such caverns, winding far away +into unseen recesses, the first rude inhabitants of Italy, +like the Troglodytes of Upper Egypt and Ethiopia, +had fixed their miserable abodes. Others assert, that +they owe their origin merely to the elder builders +of the visible Rome, who, to avoid marring the surface +of the earth, were contented to bring their materials of +sand, clay, and stone, from these subterraneous labyrinths, +which so grew with the progress of diligence, +and with the extension of the city itself. Perhaps both +conjectures may have some foundation in truth; but +be that as it may, there is no question, that, in succeeding +times, these catacombs had been widened and +extended, to serve as places of burial for the mortal +remains of the poor citizens. And now is it to be wondered +at, that here, in regions so obscure and dismal, the +persecuted adherents of the Faith should have frequently +sought not only resting-places for the bodies of their +dead, but even shelter for themselves, amidst the terror +of those relentless days? Hither, more than once, the +aged priest said, he had fled to escape the pursuit of his +<pb n="349"/><anchor id="Pg349"/>enemies—here once more he hoped the shield of safety +would lie over his peril—here, at last, by whatever death +he should die, his brethren had promised to lay his bones +in the earth, beside Tisias of Antioch, and many more +that, in the bloody times of Nero and Domitian, had +already, in the sight of all that heartless city, merited +the crown, and the spotless robe, and the palm-branch +of martyrdom, by patient endurance of the last insolence +of man. +</p> + +<p> +Our father, therefore, held the lamp before us, and +we entered those gloomy regions, wherein alone the +servants of the Son of God could at that troubled era +esteem themselves in safety from the hot pursuit of contemptuous +power. We passed along beneath the arches +of the rock-hewn roof, and between the endless winding +walls, on either side of which appeared many +humble inscriptions, recording the virtues of the departed +and the regrets of the surviving poor. Of these +last, however, as it appeared, all must long since have +been gathered to the ashes of those they lamented, for +there was no semblance of any new monument among +all that we observed, and most of them, to judge from +the shape of the letters upon them, must have been set +up at least as long ago as the period of Asinius. After +traversing many of these subterraneous galleries, we +came, at last, to one more low-roofed than the rest, into +which Aurelius struck aside, saying, <q>Here Tisias lies, +but no inscription marks the place where a martyr +finds repose. Here is the spot; with my own hands I +lent feeble help in digging the grave. Athanasia, too, +knows it well, for she also did not fear to assist in rendering +the last honours to that soldier of Christ.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="350"/><anchor id="Pg350"/> + +<p> +A flat thin stone, without mark or epitaph, indicated +the spot. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Father,</q> said Athanasia, <q>let me rest here. I am +weary and worn—but here I shall fear no evil. Conduct +Caius back to the grotto; it is time he should go.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Thus leaving her by the funeral-stone, Aurelius and +I retraced our steps to the mouth of the catacomb. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Already,</q> said he, <q>the sky is red eastward—walk +cautiously through the gardens, and regain with all +speed the house of your kinsman. Go, my son; may +all blessings attend your steps. Come back at the rising +of the moon, and cast a stone into the fountain, and I +shall be within hearing. Go, and fear not.</q> +</p> + +</div><div type="chapter" n="9" rend="page-break-before: always"> +<pb n="351"/><anchor id="Pg351"/> +<index index="toc" level1="Chapter IX"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Chapter IX"/> +<head><hi rend="h2">CHAPTER IX.</hi></head> + +<p> +I passed without disturbance through the gardens of +the Esquiline, and the streets of the city, in which no +one was as yet moving, except a few rustics driving +asses laden with herbs to the market-place. When I +reached the house of my kinsman, however, it was +evident that sleep did not prevail within its gates; +lights were visible in the vestibule, and there I found +several of the slaves sitting in conversation. My own +could not conceal the extravagance of his satisfaction on +seeing me enter among them in safety; so that I had +no doubt his brother had informed him, in so far at least, +of what had passed after our leaving him in the Mammertine. +Dromo received me also with warm demonstrations +of joy, and conducted me to the chamber of +Licinius, in which, with the orator himself, were Sextus, +pale with watching, Sabinus, still habited in military +attire, with a goblet of wine before him on the table, and +Lucius Sempronius, who was reclining at some little +distance from the rest. It was he that eagerly began to +question me; and I perceived from the style in which +he spoke, that all present had already been made aware +of the manner in which Athanasia had been withdrawn +from the council-chamber. A few words informed them +<pb n="352"/><anchor id="Pg352"/>of what had followed after we quitted the Temple of +Apollo. +</p> + +<p> +<q>I thank the gods,</q> said Sempronius,—<q>so far at +least it goes well—but if this strictness, of which the +Centurion speaks, shall be adhered to, there still must +be no small difficulty about conveying her beyond the +city.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>In truth,</q> quoth Sabinus, after a little pause, <q>I +am afraid this is scarcely a matter in regard to which I +should be consulted. I know not but already I have +done several things that could not be quite reconciled +with my duty. I shall, in all probability, be set on the +watch myself, and if so—much as I must regret the +necessity—it certainly will be most necessary for me +to discharge what is committed to my trust. Is there +no possibility, think you, of inventing some impenetrable +disguise? Depend on it, it is quite impossible +the young lady should remain any where in Rome, +without being ere long discovered. The first thing is +to have her safe beyond the city-walls.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I myself,</q> said I, <q>shall embark instantly for +Britain. Sempronius, Athanasia must go with me—Surely +it may be possible to have her carried unobserved +to the shore.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You!</q> said Licinius—<q>you embark instantly for +Britain?—You know not what you speak; your law-suit +has been determined this very afternoon. Every +thing that Cneius left is your own.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>O Jove!</q> cried Sabinus, <q>did ever mortal receive +such news with such a face! But come, here is health +to the heir of the Valerii, and may this Massic choke +me, if I love him not the better for his gravity.</q> +</p> + +<pb n="353"/><anchor id="Pg353"/> + +<p> +<q>Would to heaven!</q> said Sempronius, <q>our young +friend had loved under other auspices! No, Valerius +must stay and take possession, destined, as I hope he is, +to equal, under the favour of the gods, the noblest name +in his lineage. My dear niece—let us trust she may +be concealed somewhere in safety from the pursuit. +Separated from this fanatic crew, she will, ere long, +without question, abandon the dreams they have filled +her mind withal; and on some happier day, our friend +may perhaps have no reason either to fear or to blush, +for lifting her over the threshold of the Valerii.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I drew near to the old man, and, receiving his embrace, +whispered into his ear, <q>Sempronius, you speak generously; +but know that this very evening I also have +become a Christian.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Heavens!</q> cried he, <q>what limits shall be affixed +to this contagion! Rash boy! have you not seen +already to what consequences this must lead?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>What?</q> says Licinius—<q>what new calamity is +this? Have my ears deceived me? Speak, dear Caius—for +the sake of all the blood in your veins—you have +not embraced this frenzy?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>My friends,</q> said I, <q>why should I speak to one, +when all of you are, I well know, alike interested? In +all things else I bow to age and understanding so much +above my own; but here I have thought for myself, and +my faith is fixed.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Licinius heard me with a countenance of painful and +anxious emotion. In the eye of young Sextus I saw a +tear ready to start, and his whole aspect was that of one +sad and bewildered. Sempronius leaned his brow upon +his hand, and turned himself away from me. But as +<pb n="354"/><anchor id="Pg354"/>for the Centurion, he preserved his usual air; and after +a moment, all the rest continuing silent, said, <q>Valerius, +I have been in love ere now, and perhaps am not out +of the scrape at present; but you have thrown a new +light upon the matter. What do you fancy to be the +great merits of the present age, that it should be treated +with more favour than all that have gone before it? +And, if you come to speak of the Jews, every body +knows they are a most pitiful, mean, knavish set of +creatures. They were always by the ears among themselves; +but I think it is rather too much that they +should have the credit of bringing their betters (by which +I mean all the world besides) into confusion. You are +but green yet; all this will blow over anon, and you +will laugh more heartily than any one else when you +think of your weakness. But look up, good friend, I +don’t think you are listening to me.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>My dear Sabinus,</q> said I, <q>I do listen, but I think +it is rather to the gay Prætorian, than to the patient +friend I had expected to find in you.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Come!</q> said he again, <q>you take every thing so +seriously. If you are resolved to be a Christian, I am +very sorry for it; but even that shall not stand between +me and a true friend. I hope you will soon see the +thing as I do—I know you will; but, in the meantime, +Valerius, you may count upon me.</q>—And the +kind man squeezed my hand with his customary fervour. +</p> + +<p> +He then turned round to the rest of our friends, and +began to propose for their consideration a dozen different +schemes of escape, that had already suggested +themselves to his imagination. +</p> + +<pb n="355"/><anchor id="Pg355"/> + +<p> +Licinius took advantage of the first pause, to suggest +that the Centurion seemed in a hurry to get rid of me. +He then passed into an account of the speech he had +delivered on the preceding afternoon before the Court +of the Centumvirs, and of the unhesitating manner, so +gratifying to his feelings, in which its judgment had +been pronounced. For some moments, in his detail of +these proceedings, he seemed almost to have lost sight +of the present situation and views of the person most +interested in their termination. But when, in the progress +of his story, he came to enlarge upon the magnificence +of my new possessions—the domains in Africa—the +rich farms in Sicily—the numerous slaves engaged +in their cultivation—the Spanish silver mine—and, +last of all, the splendours of the great villa upon +the banks of the Tiber—it was not difficult to perceive +that he could scarcely restrain his indignation at the +purpose I had been expressing. <q>And such,</q> said he, +<q>are the realities which our young friend quits for the +reasons he has mentioned! Well, every man must +judge for himself. If it must be so, let it be so.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I heard him patiently to the end, and then said, +<q rend="post: none">You have well summed up the whole matter, my dear +Licinius. It must indeed be so. I go immediately to +Britain, and I trust she—for whom I would leave all +these things, were they greater than they are—shall, +by the aid of your kindness, go with me in safety. +There is one request only which I have, in addition to +all this, to lay before you; and that you may hear it +the more patiently, it does not concern myself.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>In a word, then,</q> I continued, <q>should happier days +arrive, I hope once more to be among you here in Rome. +<pb n="356"/><anchor id="Pg356"/>The wealth which, thanks to your zeal, Licinius, is this +day mine, can be of little use to me in the British valley, +to which, for the present, I retire. Above all, this +beautiful villa of which you speak,—why, because for +a time I am unable to occupy it, should the mansion of +my fathers stand empty, when there are others among +their descendants, who lie not under the same necessity +of exile? Till I am enabled to breathe in freedom the +air of Italy, I trust Licinius will consent to let Sextus +represent me in my villa. There, too, I hope Sempronius +will permit his daughter to be. It will give pleasure +to Athanasia, to think that those halls contain the +dearest of our friends. When we come back, if ever +we do so, they will not grudge to make room for us +beneath the same roof with themselves. Licinius—Sempronius—what +say you?</q> +</p> + +<p> +They were both silent for a moment; but Sabinus +was at hand to answer for them:—<q>By all Olympus! +I shall knock down any man henceforth, that in my +presence abuses Christianity as a destruction of men’s +hearts. Let it be, good friends, as our Caius says. I +know, Sextus, I have at least your voice upon my side. +Let it be so; and, for heaven’s sake, let it be immediately. +A wedding is the very thing to divert attention +from these troubles in both kindreds.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Our conversation was interrupted by Dromo, who +told me that Silo the jailer had come to see me, and +was below in the hall. There I found the humane +man, with his little daughter in his hand, and walked +aside with him into the inner portico of the house. I +told him how the escape, for which his zeal alone was +to be thanked, had been terminated—and to what +<pb n="357"/><anchor id="Pg357"/>resolution I had now come;—and then inquired +whether no suspicion had been attached to himself, +in consequence of his absence from the Capitoline. +Having assured me that he had no reason to think so,—<q>The +oath which I had taken to Trajan,</q> said he, +<q>prevented me from adopting the simpler course of +setting open for our dear friends the gates of the Mammertine; +and I trust that I did not offend against that +oath by acting as I did, after they had been taken away +for the time from my keeping. But both they and you +must be aware of the pain which I suffered during their +confinement, and of the dangers which I have encountered +by their escape. I am resolved no more to be +subject to such struggles. I cannot preserve my faith +as a Christian, and my honour as a servant of Trajan. +This very day I resign my charge in the Mammertine; +this very night, if it so please you, I am ready to accompany +you and my dear young lady, in your flight +to Britain.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I need not say with what gladness I heard this proposal. +Returning to my friends, I informed them of +what I had just heard, and perceiving now at last that +there was no chance of diverting me from my project, +they entered, like true friends, into serious consultation +respecting the best method of carrying my project into +execution. The aid of Silo, who had already given such +proofs both of presence of mind, and of prudence, and +courage, was regarded by them as of the highest importance. +He was shortly summoned to take part in our +deliberation, and it was resolved, that after resigning +in a formal manner the office he held, and transferring +his property for the present into the custody of Licinius, +<pb n="358"/><anchor id="Pg358"/>he should forthwith repair to Ostium, and there hire +and put in readiness, for immediate use, a small vessel, +the lightest he could find, in which the fugitive party +might transport themselves at least as far as Corsica. +To this the zealous Silo without hesitation assented. +It was agreed that he should have the mariners on their +benches by the coming on of night, and that he himself +should be waiting for us by a certain ruined tower, +which stands conspicuously by the river side, about a +mile and a half above Ostium. We left it to Silo himself, +to stock the bark with any merchandise which he +might deem best adapted to deceive the superintendents +of the haven. +</p> + +<p> +Partly from the necessity of making provision of +various kinds for this voyage, but still more in consequence +of the law-suit, with the termination of +which you have just been made acquainted, I had +no leisure that day, from which to work out unnecessary +pain either for myself or for others. I had to +assist Licinius in looking over an infinity of deeds, +and to superintend the drawing out of others. In the +next place, I had to go to the Forum for the purpose of +manumitting some slaves, (such a largess being naturally +expected); and while I was occupied with this, +need I tell you, that my own poor Briton was not +forgotten? Licinius having, at the joint request of +Sextus and myself, accorded that morning to the Cretan +also the well-merited gift of his liberty, Boto and Dromo +were seen strutting about the Forum together for some +moments, each arrayed in that worshipful cap which +had formed the most prominent object in their day-dreams +of felicity. I shall not trouble you with +need<pb n="359"/><anchor id="Pg359"/>less particulars. Let it suffice, that the greater part of +the day was thus spent in unavoidable business. +</p> + +<p> +Towards evening, I stole privately from my kinsman’s +house, being willing to avoid a formal farewell, and +repaired to Sabinus, who received me with very lively +emotion. What he dwelt upon most fervently, however, +was the probability—the certainty he seemed to +esteem it—that a persecution of this nature could not +be long persisted in by such a prince as Trajan; and +the pleasure with which, that being all at an end, he +should see me come back to Rome, and take due possession +of the inheritance of my fathers. After expatiating +most fluently for some minutes on the expected delights +of that day, he paused suddenly, and then added, in a +tone of some little hesitation, <q>And as for me, I wonder +in what state you shall find me. Rich or poor—married +or single—Centurion or Tribune—one thing is certain, +that I shall, in all circumstances, be not a little rejoiced +to see you.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You had better marry, my good captain,</q> said I. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Marry! me to marry? I have not the least thought +of such a thing. You did not put any faith, did you, +in the raillery of those waggish fellows of yesterday?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>A little—a very little, Sabinus.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Poh! poh! now you are jesting.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>And much, very much, Sabinus, in the conscious +looks of a certain blushing Centurion, yesterday.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Come,</q> quoth he, <q>there is more cunning in these +British eyes than I ever should have dreamt of. Fill +your cup to the brim, boy, and since you are to leave +us so speedily, I shall have no secrets for you. I have +seen service;—true, but what of that? I have kept a +<pb n="360"/><anchor id="Pg360"/>light heart in all my campaigns. But my day, it must +be confessed, begins to wear a little, a very little, +towards the evening; and, Castor! if you allow supper-time +to slip over, I don’t know but you must go to bed +with a light stomach. Now or never was the word, +my boy; and the widow is mine own.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>And Xerophrastes?</q> said I. +</p> + +<p> +<q>And as for the most sagacious and venerable Xerophrastes, +why, to tell you the truth, I see nothing for +him but that he should allow his beard to curl as it +pleases, drop his long cloak over his ambitious pair of +shanks, forswear moonlight, purchase for himself a +dark lantern instead, and see whether he can’t find, +within the four walls of Rome, an honest Greek, and a +constant widow, to make one blessed wedding withal. +That is my advice to the Stoic—Stoic no longer—but, +if there be hoops upon a tub, the most cynical of all +Cynics.</q> +</p> + +<p> +When it was at last necessary that I should move—<q>Dear +Caius,</q> said the Centurion, <q>you know the +Prefect has set a price on their heads, and I promise +you it is such a temptation as no virtue, that keeps +watch beneath any common prætorian breast-plate, +could well be trusted to wrestle with. But hope, and +dare. And here, take once more this helmet, and cloak, +and sword, and with them share the password of the +night.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Sabinus then gave private orders to one of his troop, +and walked with me towards the Esquiline.—But why +should I linger over what little remains of this story? +Why pain you with the parting which I witnessed +between my Athanasia and the holy Aurelius, +after<pb n="361"/><anchor id="Pg361"/>wards numbered among the martyrs of Christ?—Behold +us at last issued from the Catacombs, and mounted on +the trusty horses which our friend had caused to be +waiting at no great distance from the thicket that +clothed their entrance. Behold us arrived without interruption +at the Ostian Gate of Rome. +</p> + +<p> +The soldiers on guard challenged us cheerily as we +came up to them. +</p> + +<p> +<q>The word, comrades?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q><hi rend="italic">Titus!</hi></q> quoth the Centurion. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Pass on—whom bear you with you, comrades!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>A Christian—a Christian prisoner,</q> said I. +</p> + +<p> +<q>By Jove, that’s worth gold to you, brother,</q> quoth +the guard.—<q>Open the gate there;—pass on, friends. +I hope I shall have luck one day myself.</q> +</p> + +<p rend="center; margin-top: 5"> +FINIS. +</p> + +<p rend="center; margin-top: 6; font-size: small"> +PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH. +</p></div></div> + </body> + <back> +<div> + <pgIf output="pdf"> + <then/> + <else> + <div id="footnotes" rend="page-break-before: right"> + <index index="toc" level1="Footnotes"/> + <head>Footnotes</head> + <divGen type="footnotes"/> + </div> + </else> + </pgIf> + </div> +<div rend="page-break-before:right; x-class: boxed"> + <index index="pdf" level1="Transcriber's Note"/><index index="toc" level1="Transcriber’s Note"/> + <head>Transcriber’s Note</head> + <p>Variations in hyphenation (e.g. <q>eyebrows</q>, <q>eye-brows</q>; <q>godlike</q>, <q>god-like</q>) + have not been changed.</p> + <p>Other changes, which have been made to the text:</p> + +<list> +<item><ref target="corr072a">page 72</ref>, question mark added after <q>him</q>, +quote mark added before <ref target="corr072b"><q>His</q></ref></item> +<item><ref target="corr267">page 267</ref>, <q>Aybss</q> changed to <q>Abyss</q></item> +<item><ref target="corr307">page 307</ref>, <q>Capito</q> changed to <q>Capitol</q></item> +</list> + </div> +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> + <divGen type="pgfooter"/> + </div> + </back> + </text> +</TEI.2> diff --git a/44330-tei/images/cover.jpg b/44330-tei/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2222d54 --- /dev/null +++ b/44330-tei/images/cover.jpg |
