Aurelian or Rome in the Third Century Part 10

'O, it would be long telling,' said Lucilia. 'Only, for one thing, we heard that there was a ma.s.sacre of the Christians, in which some said hundreds, and some, thousands fell. For a moment, I a.s.sure you, we trembled for you. It was quickly contradicted, but the confirmation afforded by your actual presence, of your welfare, is not unwelcome. You must lay a part of the heartiness of our reception, especially the old Falernian, to the account of our relieved fears. But let us hear.'

I then went over the last days in Rome, adding what I had been able to gather from Milo, when it was such that I could trust to it. When I had satisfied their curiosity, and had moreover described to Lucilia the dresses of Livia on so great an occasion, and the fas.h.i.+ons which were raging, Marcus proposed that I should accompany him over his farm, and observe his additions and improvements, and the condition of his slaves.

I accepted the proposal with pleasure, and we soon set forth on our ramble, accompanied by Gallus, now riding his stick and now gambolling about the lawns and fields with his dog.

I like this retreat of Curtius better almost than any other of the suburban villas of our citizens. There is an air of calm senatorial dignity about it which modern edifices want. It looks as if it had seen more than one generation of patrician inhabitants. There is little unity or order--as those words are commonly understood--observable in the structure of the house, but it presents to the eye an irregular a.s.semblage of forms, the work of different ages, and built according to the taste and skill of distant and changing times. Some portions are new, some old and covered with lichens, mosses, and creeping plants.

Here is a portico of the days of Trajan, and there a tower that seems as if it were of the times of the republic. Yet is there a certain harmony and congruity running through the whole, for the material used is everywhere the same--a certain fawn-colored stone drawn from the quarries in the neighborhood; and each successive owner and architect has evidently paid some regard to preceding erections in the design and proportions of the part he has added. In this unity of character, as well as in the separate beauty or greatness of distinct parts, is it made evident that persons of accomplishment and rank have alone possessed it. Of its earlier history all that Curtius has with certainty ascertained is, that it was once the seat of the great Hortensius, before he had, in the growth of his fame and his riches, displayed his luxurious tastes in the wonders of Tusculum, Bauli, or Laurentum. It was the first indication given by him of that love of elegant and lavish wastefulness, that gave him at last as wide a celebrity as his genius.

The part which he built is well known, and although of moderate dimensions, yet displays the rudiments of that taste that afterward was satisfied only with more than imperial magnificence. Marcus has satisfied himself as to the very room which he occupied as his study and library, and where he prepared himself for the morning courts; and in the same apartment--hoping as he says to catch something from the genius of the place--does he apply himself to the same professional labors. His name and repute are now second to none in Rome. Yet, young as he is, he begins to weary of the bar, and woo the more quiet pursuits of letters and philosophy. Nay, at the present moment, agriculture claims all his leisure, and steals time that can ill be spared from his clients. Varro and Cato have more of his devotion than statutes and precedents.

In the disposition of the grounds, Marcus has shown that he inherits something of the tastefulness of his remote predecessor; and in the harvest that covers his extensive acres, gives equal evidence that he has studied, not without profit, the labors of those who have written upon husbandry and its connected arts. Varro especially is at his tongue's end.

We soon came to the quarter of the slaves--a village almost of the humble tenements occupied by this miserable cla.s.s. None but the women, children, sick and aged, were now at home--the young and able-bodied being abroad at work. No new disturbances have broken out, he tells me; the former severity, followed by a well-timed lenity, having subdued or conciliated all. Curtius, although fond of power and of all its ensigns, yet conceals not his hatred of this inst.i.tution, which has so long obtained in the Roman state, as in all states. He can devise no way of escape from it; but he sees in it the most active and general cause of the corruption of morals which is spread everywhere where it prevails. He cannot suppress his contempt of the delusion or hypocrisy of our ancestors in terming themselves republicans.

'What a monstrous solecism was it,' he broke out with energy, 'in the times preceding the empire, to call that a free country which was built upon the degradation and slavery of half of its population. Rome never was a republic. It was simply a faction of land and slave holders, who blinded and befooled the ignorant populace, by parading before them some of the forms of liberty, but kept the power in their own hands. They were a community of petty kings, which was better in their mind than only one king, as in the time of the Tarquins. It was a republic of kingdoms and of kings, if you will. Now and then, indeed, the people bustled about and shook their chains, as in the times of the inst.i.tution of the tribune's office, and those of the Gracchi. But they gained nothing. The patricians were still the kings who ruled them. And among no people can there be liberty where slavery exists--liberty, I mean, properly so called. He who holds slaves cannot, in the nature of things, be a republican; but, in the nature of things, he is on the other hand a despot. I am one. And a nation of such individuals is an a.s.sociation of despots for despotic purposes, and nothing else nor better. Liberty in their mouths is a profanation of the sacred name. It signifies nothing but their liberty to reign. I confess, it is to those who happen to be the kings a very agreeable state of things. I enjoy my power and state mightily. But I am not blind to the fact--my own experience teaches it--that it is a state of things corrupt and rotten to the heart--destructive everywhere of the highest form of the human character. It nurses and brings out the animal, represses and embrutes the G.o.d that is within us. It makes of man a being of violence, force, pa.s.sion, and the narrowest selfishness; while reason and humanity, which should distinguish him, are degraded and oppressed. Such men are not the stuff that republics are made of. A republic may endure for a time in spite of them, owing to fortunate circ.u.mstances of another kind; but wherever they obtain a preponderance in the state, liberty will expire, or exist only in the insulting forms in which she waved her b.l.o.o.d.y sceptre during most of our early history. Slavery and despotism are natural allies.'

'I rejoice,' I said, 'to find a change in you, at least in the theory which you adopt.'

'I certainly am changed,' he replied; 'and such as the change may be, is it owing, sir Christian, to thy calm and yet fiery epistles from Palmyra. Small thanks do I owe thee for making me uncomfortable in a position from which I cannot escape. Once proud of my slaves and my power, I am already ashamed of both; but while my principles have altered, my habits and character, which slavery has created and nursed remain beyond any power of man, so far as I can see, to change them.

What they are, you well know. So that here, in my middle age, I suffer a retribution, that should have been reserved till I had been dismissed from the dread tribunal of Rhadamanthus.'

'I see not, Curtius, why you should not escape from the position you are in, if you sincerely desire it, which I suppose you do not.'

'That, to be honest--which at least I am--is I believe the case.'

'I do not doubt it, as it is with all who are situated like yourself.

Most, however, defend the principle as well as cling to the form of slavery.'

'Nay, that I cannot do. That I never did, since my beard was grown. I fancy myself to have from the G.o.ds a good heart. He is essentially of a corrupt heart who will stand for slavery in its principle. He is without anything generous in his nature. Cold selfishness marks and makes him.

But supposing I as sincerely desired to escape--as I sincerely do not--what, O most wise mentor, should be the manner?'

'First and at once, to treat them no longer as slaves, but as men.'

'That I am just beginning to do. What else?'

'If you are sincere, as I say, and moreover, if you possess the exalted and generous traits which we patricians ever claim for ourselves, show it them by giving their freedom one by one to those who are now slaves, even though it result in the loss of one half of your fortune. That will be a patrician act. What was begun in crime by others, cannot be perpetuated without equal crime in us. The enfranchised will soon mingle with the people, and, as we see every day, become one with it. This process is going on at this moment in all my estates. Before my will is executed, I shall hope to have disposed in this manner of every slave in my possession.'

'One can hardly look to emulate such virtues as this new-found Christian philosophy seems to have engendered within thy n.o.ble bosom, Piso; but the subject must be weighed. There is nothing so agreeable in prospect as to do right; but, like some distant stretches of land and hill, water and wood, the beauty is all gone as it draws near. It is then absolutely a source of pain and disgust. I will write a treatise upon the great theme.'

'If you write, Curtius, I shall despair of any action, all your philanthropy will evaporate in a cloud of words.'

'But that will be the way, I think, to restore my equanimity. I believe I shall feel quite easy after a little declamation. Here, Lucius, regale thyself upon these grapes. These are from the isles of the Grecian Archipelago, and for sweetness are not equalled by any of our own.

Gallus, Gallus, go not so near to the edge of the pond; it is deep, as I have warned you. I have lampreys there, Piso, bigger than any that Hortensius ever wept for. Gallus, you dog! away, I say.'

But Gallus heeded not the command of his father. He already was beginning to have a little will of his own. He continued playing upon the margin of the water, throwing in sticks for his dog to bring to him again. Perceiving his danger to be great, I went to him and forcibly drew him away, he and his dog setting up a frightful music of screams and yelping. Marcus was both entertained and amazed at the feat.

'Piso,' he jocosely cried out, 'there is a good deal of the old republican in you. You even treat free men as slaves. That boy--a man in will--never had before such restraint upon his liberty.'

'Liberty with restraint,' I answered, 'operating upon all, and equally upon all, is the true account of a state of freedom. Gallus unrestrained is a slave--a slave of pa.s.sion and the sport of chance. He is not truly free until he is bound.'

With such talk we amused ourselves as we wandered over the estate, through its more wild and more cultivated parts. Dinner was presently announced, and we hastened to the house.

Lucilia awaited us in a small six-sided cabinet, fitted up purposely for a dining-room for six or eight persons. It was wholly cased with a rich marble of a pale yellow hue, beautifully panelled, having three windows opening upon a long portico with a southern aspect, set out with exotics in fancifully arranged groups. The marble panels of the room were so contrived that, at a touch, they slipped aside and disclosed in rich array, here the choicest wines, there sauces and spices of a thousand sorts, and there again the rarest confections brought from China and the East. Apicius himself could have fancied nothing more perfect--for the least dissatisfaction with the flavor of a dish, or the kind of wine, could be removed by merely reaching out the hand and drawing, from an inexhaustible treasure-house, both wines and condiments, such as scarce Rome itself could equal. This was an apartment contrived and built by Hortensius himself.

The dinner was worthy the room and its builder, the marbles, the prospect, the guest, the host, and the hostess. The aforementioned Apicius would have never once thought of the panelled cupboards. No dish would have admitted of addition or alteration.

When the feasting was over, and with it the lighter conversation, and more disjointed and various, which usually accompanies it, Marcus arose, and withdrawing one of the sliding panels, with much gravity and state, drew forth a gla.s.s pitcher of exquisite form filled with wine, saying, as he did so,

'All, Piso, that you have as yet tasted is but as water of the Tiber to this. This is more than nectar. The G.o.ds have never been so happy as to have seen the like. I am their envy. It is Falernian, that once saw the wine vaults of Heliogabalus! Not a drop of Chian has ever touched it. It is pure, unadulterate. Taste, and be translated.'

I acknowledged, as I well might, its unequalled flavor.

'This nectarean draught,' he continued, 'I even consider to possess purifying and exalting qualities. He who drinks it is for the time of a higher nature. It is better for the temper than a chapter of Seneca or Epictetus. It brings upon the soul a certain divine calm, favorable beyond any other state to the growth of the virtues. Could it become of universal use, mankind were soon a race of G.o.ds. Even Christianity were then made unnecessary--admitting it to be that unrivalled moral engine which you Christians affirm it to be. It is favorable also to dispa.s.sionate discussion, Piso, a little of which I would now invite.

Know you not, I have scarce seen you since your a.s.sumption of your new name and faith? What bad demon possessed you, in evil hour, to throw Rome and your friends into such a ferment?'

'Had you become, Lucius,' said Lucilia, 'a declaiming advocate of Epicurus, or a street-lecturer upon Plato, or turned priest of Apollo's new temple, it would have all been quite tolerable, though amazing--but Christian!'--

'Yes, Lucius, it is too bad,' added Marcus. 'If you were in want of moral strength, you would have done better to have begged some of my Falernian. You should not have been denied.'

'Or,' said Lucilia,'some of my Smyrna cordial.'

'At least,' continued Marcus, 'you might have come to me for some of my wisdom, which I keep ready, at a moment's warning, in quant.i.ties to suit all applicants.'

'Or to me,' said Lucilia, 'for some of my every day good-sense, which, you know, I possess in such abundance, though I have not sat at the feet of philosophers.'

'But seriously, Lucius,' began Marcus in altered mood, 'this is a most extraordinary movement of yours. I should like to be able to interpret it. If you must needs have what you call religion, of which I, for my part, can see no earthly occasion, here were plenty of forms in which to receive it, more ancient and more respectable than this of the Christians.'

'I am almost unwilling to converse on this topic with you, Marcus,' I rejoined, 'for there is nothing in your nature, or rather in your educated nature, to which to appeal with the least hope of any profitable result, either to me, or you. The G.o.ds have, as you say, given you a good heart--I may add too, a most n.o.ble head; but, yourself and education together, have made you so thoroughly a man of the world, that the interests of any other part of your nature, save those of the intellect and the senses, are to you precisely as if they did not exist.'

'Right, Lucius; therein do I claim honor and distinction. The intangible, the invisible, the vague, the shadowy, I leave to women and priests--concerning myself only with the substantial realities of life.

Great Jupiter! what would become of mankind were we all women, and priests? How could the courts go on--senates sit, and deliberate--armies conquer? I think the world would stand still. However, I object not to a popular faith, such as that which now obtains throughout, the Roman world. If mankind, as history seems to prove, must and will have something of the kind, this perhaps is as good as anything else; and, seeing it has once become established and fixed in the way it has, I think it ought no more to be disturbed than men's faith in their political inst.i.tutions. Our concern should be, merely to regulate it, that it grow not too large, and so overlay and crush the state. Fanatics and bigots must be hewn away. There must be an occasional infusion of doubt and indifference into the ma.s.s, to keep it from fermenting. You cannot be offended, Lucius, at the way in which I speak of your new-adopted faith. I think no better of any other. Epicureans, Stoics, Platonists, Jews, Christians, they are all alike to me. I hold them all at arms length. I have listened to them all; and more idle, indigested fancies never did I hear--no, not from the new-fledged advocate playing the rhetorician at his first appearance.'

'I do not wonder, Curtius, that you have turned away dissatisfied with the philosophers. I do not wonder that you reject the popular superst.i.tions. But I do wonder, that you will prejudge any question, or infer the intrinsic incredibility of whatever may take the form of religion, from the intrinsic incredibility of what the world has heretofore possessed. It surely is not a philosophical method.'

'Not in other things, I grant,' replied Marcus; 'but concerning this question of popular superst.i.tion, or religion, the only philosophical thing is, to discard the whole subject, as one deserving severe investigation. The follies which the populace have, in all nations, and in all time, adopted, let them be retained, and even defended and supported by the State. They perform a not unimportant office in regulating the conduct, and manners of men--in preserving a certain order in the world. But beyond this, it seems to me, the subject is unworthy the regard of a reflecting person. One world and one life is enough to manage at a time. If there be others, and if there be a G.o.d who governs them, it will be time enough to know these things when they are made plain to the senses, as these trees and hills now are, and your well-shaped form. This peering into futurity, in the expectation to arrive at certainty, seems to me much as if one should hope to make out the forms of cities, palaces, and groves, by gazing into the empty air, or on the clouds. Besides, of what use?'

'Of what use indeed?' added Lucilia. 'I want no director or monitor, concerning any duty or act, which it falls to me to perform, other than I find within me. I have no need of a divine messenger, to stand ever at my side, to tell me what I must do, and what I must forbear. I have within me instincts and impulses, which I find amply sufficient. The care and duty of every day is very much alike, and a little experience and observation, added to the inward instinct, makes me quite superior to most difficulties and evils as they arise. The G.o.ds, or whatever power gave us our nature, have not left us dependent for these things, either on what is called religion or philosophy.'

'What you say,' I rejoined, 'is partly true. The G.o.ds have not left us dependent exclusively, upon either religion, or philosophy. There is a natural religion of the heart and the conscience, which is born with us, grows up with us, and never forsakes us. But then, after all, how defective and incomplete a principle it is. It has chiefly to do, only with our daily conduct; it cannot answer our doubts, or satisfy our most real wants. It differs too with the const.i.tution of the individual. In some, it is a principle of much greater value and efficacy, than in others. Your instincts are clear, and powerful, and direct you aright.

But, in another, they are obscure, and weak, and leave the mind in the greatest perplexity. It is by no means all that they want. Then, are not the prevalent superst.i.tions most injurious in their influences upon the common mind? Can you doubt, whether more of good or evil, is derived to the soul, from the ideas it entertains of the character, and providence of the G.o.ds? Can you be insensible to the horrible enormities, and nameless vices, which make a part, even of what is called religion? And is there no need--if men will have religion in some form--that they should receive it in a better one? Can you not conceive of such views of G.o.d and his wors.h.i.+p, of duty, virtue, and immortality being presented, that they shall strike the mind as reasonable in themselves, and of beneficial instead of hurtful power, upon being adopted? Can you not imagine your own mind, and the minds of people generally, to be so devoted to a high and sublime conception of the Divinity, and of futurity, as to be absolutely incapable of an act, that should displease him, or forfeit the hope of immortality?'

'Hardly,' said Marcus and Lucilia.

'Well, suppose it were so. Or rather, if you cannot imagine such a state of things, mult.i.tudes can. You are not a fair specimen of our kind, but only of a comparatively small cla.s.s. Generally--so I have found it--the mind is seeking about for something better than what any human system has as yet proposed, and is confident of nothing more than of this, that men may be put in possession of truths, that shall carry them on as far beyond what their natural instincts now can do, as these instincts carry them on beyond any point to which the brutes ever arrive. This, certainly, was my own conviction, before I met with Christianity. Now, Marcus and Lucilia, what is this Christianity, but a revelation from Heaven, whose aim is to give to you, and to all, such conceptions of G.o.d, and futurity, as I have just spoken of?'--I then, finding that I had obtained a hearing, went into an account of the religion of Christ, as I had received it from the books themselves, and which to you I need not repeat. They listened with considerable patience--though I was careful not to use many words--but without any expression of countenance, or manner, that indicated any very favorable change in their opinions or feelings. As I ended, Marcus said,

'I shall always think better of this religion, Lucius, that you have adopted it, though I cannot say that your adopting it, will raise my judgment of you. I do not at present see upon what grounds it stands so firm, or divine, that a citizen is defensible in abandoning for it, an ostensible reception of, and faith in, the existing forms of the State.

However, I incline to allow freedom in these matters to scholars and speculative minds. Let them work out and enjoy their own fancies--they are a restless, discontented, ambitious herd, and should, for the sake of their genius, be humored in the particular pursuits where they have placed their happiness. But, when they leave their proper vocation, and turn propagators and reformers, and aim at the subversion of things now firmly established and prosperous, then--although I myself should never meddle in such matters--it is scarcely a question whether the power of the State should interpose, and lay upon them the necessary restraints.

Upon the whole, Lucius Piso, I think, that I, and Lucilia, had better turn preachers, and exhort you to return to the faith, or no-faith, which you have abandoned. Leave such things to take care of themselves.

What have you gained but making yourself an object of popular aversion or distrust? You have abandoned the community of the polite, the refined, the sober, where by nature you belong, and have a.s.sociated yourself with a vulgar crew, of--forgive my freedom, I speak the common judgment, that you may know what it is--of ignorant fanatics or crafty knaves, who care for you no further, than as by your great name, they may stand a little higher in the world. I protest, before Jupiter, that to save others like you from such loss, I feel tempted to hunt over the statute books for some law, now obsolete and forgotten, but not legally dead, that may be brought to bear upon this mischief, and give it another Decian blight, which, if it do not kill, may yet check, and obstruct its growth.'

I replied, 'that from him I could apprehend, he well knew, no such deed of folly or guilt--however likely it was that others might, do it, and glory in their shame; that his nature would save him from such a deed, though his principles might not.' I told him, moreover, 'that I did not despair of his looking upon Christianity with a favorable judgment in good time. He had been willing to hear; and there was that secret charm in the truths and doctrines of Christ's religion, and especially in his character, that, however rudely set forth, the mind could scarcely resist it; against its will, it would, oftentimes, find itself subdued and changed. The seeds I have now dropt upon your hearts, I trust, will some day spring up, and bear such fruit as you yourselves will rejoice in.'