Chapter D: Two Pedantic Novels of Roman Life (1)

Few novelists have made the mistake of attempting to include in a novel such work as appears in Becker’s _Gallus_. But in one or two instances, novelists have tried to crowd their pages with antiquarian knowledge, putting into their narratives matters which Becker would have placed in his Excursus. This pedantic display of knowledge is in itself a defect, and we shall consider separately two novelists who proved to be guilty of it. Miles Gerald Keon, British Colonial Secretary to Bermuda, wrote, in 1866, a novel called _Dion and the Sibyls_. This was published in London. In spite of its pedanticism, it contains some interesting similarities to the much greater work of General Lew Wallace in _Ben Hur_ (1880). Like _Ben Hur_ it deals with the time of Christ, and a further similarity is seen in the fact that the author does not make the mistake of portraying Christ as one of the central figures, and does not lay much of the scene in Jerusalem. Keon’s hero, Dion, also, like Ben Hur, is not too closely identified with Christianity, though he is invited to expound its doctrines before the Emperor. Scenes in Judea in _Dion and the Sibyls_ include the banquet at which John the Baptist is beheaded, and a pedantic display of knowledge is made in repeating things told of Herod Agrippa, Herodias, Berenice, and the high priest Caiphas. This display of pedantic knowledge is further seen in the part of the narrative which tells of Dion’s meeting with Dionysius the Areopagite, who becomes St. Denis, and brings Christianity to Gaul. But most of the scene of Keon’s novel is laid in Rome, and in this part of the story the characters of Tiberius, his brutal eunuch Lygdus, and the wily Sejanus, are portrayed in such a way as to show the author’s indefatigable search for details. The only really good scene in the novel is that in which the young Paulus, of the Æmelian family, subdues the famous “Sejan horse” in the amphitheatre. The story of this vicious horse became a tradition, so that Mr. E. L. White would have done well to give the name “Sejanus” to a similar animal in _Andivius Hedulio_ (1921), a novel of the time of Commodus; (instead he turns the name into Selinus). In Keon’s novel Paulus was directed how to overcome the horse by the sibyl of Cumæ, and as the title suggests, the magic spells of such witches appear prominently in the story; the use of a “love-philtre” suggests _The Last Days of Pompeii_ (1834). The mention of a famous acrostic, whose initial letters spell the Greek word for fish, remind one of the use made of this symbol of the early Christians, which appears in later novels of Roman life, notably in _Darkness and Dawn_ (1892), and _Quo Vadis_. But _Dion and the Sibyls_ is mentioned at this point as an example of pedanticism in the novel of Roman life.

Another example of pedanticism in the novel of Roman life is seen in _The Money God; or The Empire and the Papacy_ (1873). It is needless to mention the various matters of detail which the author, M. A. Quinton, mentions in order to display his pedantic knowledge; but it is sufficient to say that he is very learned indeed, and has read extensively in the works of the Latin authors.[27] In some instances he is very inaccurate in the deductions which he makes from his reading, and there are some notable mistakes in topography. The one redeeming feature of the novel is its remarkable handling of a chariot-race scene; the details of this scene are so similar to the details of a scene in _Ben Hur_ (1880), that it seems possible that Lew Wallace may have known of Quinton’s work. While the scene of the _Money God_ is partly laid in Rome, it does not portray Roman life, but rather presents certain details of Roman life in an arbitrary manner, and in confused order. A Roman marriage ceremony is described, and the methods of Roman money-lenders are explained in this arbitrary way. Quinton also wrote _Aurelia: or the Jews of Capena Gate_, a few years before _The Money God_, but I have been unable to obtain this book. In _Dion and the Sibyls_, and in _The Money God_ we have two very pedantic novels, which, nevertheless, mention some of the things which are mentioned in _Ben Hur_. But before considering _Ben Hur_ itself, let us retrace our steps to the year 1843, and from that time follow the course of the popular melodramatic novel of Roman life. This kind of novel represents the class in which _Ben Hur_ more properly belongs.

E. NOVELS WRITTEN BY SO-CALLED “POPULAR” NOVELISTS, WHO RELY ON THE MELODRAMATIC FOR THEIR APPEAL; THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE “POPULAR” NOVEL OF ROMAN LIFE FROM 1843 TO THE PRESENT DAY

As has been said, the growing insistence upon thoroughness of scholarship, which is seen in the work of both German and English scholars, resulted not only in a somewhat direct imitation of the methods which appear in Becker’s _Gallus_ (1838), by a few pedantic novelists; but more especially in an attempted exhibition of scholarship by “popular” novelists, who wrote novels of Roman life after this date. These “popular” novelists were men who either turned out novels by the score, or produced a few novels of the made-to-order variety; who sought for material with the idea of obtaining “grist for the mill,” rather than of writing a masterpiece. Such novelists have in most cases relied for their appeal upon the use of melodramatic material; but even these “popular” novelists soon came to realize the necessity of sound scholarship to any author who intends to attempt a novel of Roman life. In the class of “popular” novelists, we shall also include those novelists whose principal desire seems to have been to tell a “rattling good story” or to present a series of gorgeous pictures from the life of the past,—though in some cases a more serious purpose seems to underlie work of this description. We shall begin our review of the “popular,” melodramatic novel of Roman life with the novel of Ellen Pickering, which appeared in 1843; but the “gorgeous romance,” which is a direct development of the “popular” novel, did not reach its height until considerably later. After 1843 all true novels of Roman life make at least some pretense of thorough scholarship.

Ellen Pickering, an American authoress, who turned out a score of “popular” novels, wrote as one of the last of them, _Julia of Baiae; or the Days of Nero_ (1843). She clearly shows her realization both of the necessity for thorough scholarship in matters of history, and of her own shortcomings in such matters. This is plain from the diffidence of her preface to the novel, and from the fact that it was published anonymously. The story of the death of Burrus, and the appearance of Vespasian in the Praetorian guards, are matters introduced not in strictly historical order. But otherwise the book has no great faults. It is, however, not even intended as a great novel, and is only cited here in illustration of the fact that a reasonable display of scholarship was coming to be demanded even of popular novelists. _Julia of Baiae_ appeared two years after the last of the Rev. Ware’s novels (_Julian_, 1841), and was dedicated to the Rev. Fred. J. Goodwin, M. A., Rector of St. George’s Church, Flushing, N. Y. Yet, while it contains a story of the martyrs, it is not to be considered a story of religious instruction, but as an attempt at a popular novel with a rather feeble essay at classical scholarship.

Wilkie Collins, who wrote _Antonina_ in 1850, is a curious example of a novelist possessed of rather high talents, yet turning out novels which were made to the order of the popular taste, and did not have the stamp of permanence. Collins belongs to the school of Dickens rather than that of Scott; and he develops the melodramatic side of Dickens, while dispensing with Dickens’ humor. In fact, in _Antonina_, Collins goes back somewhat toward the style of the Gothic romancers, who preceded Scott. Bleak mountainsides, dark caverns and rushing torrents suggest the “Gothic” terror. The labyrinth motive appears as one of the principal motives of the story, in that its chief character, a priest of Serapis, spends his life in digging a secret passage through the walls of Rome, that he may thwart the Christians by letting in the pagan invaders. This motive is also used in a description of the secret passages under the temple of Serapis. Another “Gothic” element is shown in the ghastly scene at the banquet where guests and host resolve to die before leaving their couches. While the story describes the siege and sack of Rome by the Goths in 410 A. D., the invaders are made to appear less like the real Goths than like the characters of the “Gothic” romancers. In fact, the few historical characters of _Antonina_ are not very well done, and its history is not very good. But in writing this, his first novel, Collins realized that he must be fairly accurate in matters of history,—and in his descriptions of Roman life in _Antonina_ he sometimes achieves fine realistic effect.

It would be unfair to brand the excellent work of Henry W. Herbert as that of a “popular novelist,” since he displays a profound scholarship not usually found in the “popular novelist.” But it may be fair to consider that one of his aims was to tell a “rattling good story,” and in this he was certainly successful. His one important novel was called _The Roman Traitor; or Days of Cicero, Cato, and Catiline_, and was published in Philadelphia in 1853. It is a powerful story of the conspiracy of Catiline against the Roman republic in 63 B. C. The character of Catiline is portrayed with masterful strokes, while those of Lentulus, Cethegus, and other conspirators, are also well-done. Cicero, Cato, and the young Julius Caesar, also appear in a natural light, though of these three, only Cicero is made to play an important part. Scenes in the Senate and in the houses of the nobility are life-like, yet not over-done. The author has succeeded admirably in portraying real men and women, their thoughts, desires and passions. Scenes of politics, luxury, and intrigue, ring true to life. Speeches assigned to Cicero, Caesar, and Cato, are literal translations from the works of Cicero and Sallust. Yet the author makes them seem as real as though the words were being spoken today. He also shows a thorough knowledge of the topography of ancient Rome. Certain “Gothic” elements appear in the story, especially near the end, where the scene is a dark, dismal recess, overlooking a fearful chasm. But the general style surpasses that of any Gothic romance and is suggestive of Scott. Fine as it is in its portrayal of Roman life, _The Roman Traitor_ is even finer in its telling of a remarkable story. It is also the only really effective handling of the conspiracy of Catiline in the form of fiction.

The chief aim of Major G. J. Whyte-Melville in _The Gladiators_ (1863), is obviously to present a “gorgeous romance,” replete with hair-raising episodes. Whyte-Melville, who is the first of the brilliantly sensational writers of the “gorgeous romance” of Roman life in English, is well known for his novels of sporting life in England. In _The Gladiators_ he portrays the brilliant and corrupt society of ancient Rome in the first century, A. D., in a way which suggests his knowledge of a similar brilliant sporting society in modern England. In his use of history in _The Gladiators_, Whyte-Melville is fairly accurate. While not a man of profound scholarship, he fortunately found his historical material in a compact and readily accessible form, in the work of the Jewish historian Josephus. There is not much genuine history in the first part of _The Gladiators_, in which portion the scene is laid in Rome; but in the latter part of the novel, the author followed Josephus, in his wish to find plenty of exciting and romantic episodes. It is interesting to note, for example, that the story of the secret passage through the walls of Jerusalem (which illustrates the labyrinth motive), was taken by Whyte-Melville from Josephus. Many other instances could be cited of Whyte-Melville’s indebtedness to Josephus. Croly, it will be recalled, followed Josephus to some extent, but made a more scholarly and imaginative use of his material. The latter part of _The Gladiators_, in which the author relies more on the guidance of history, is better than the first part of the story, and contains some really fine descriptions of episodes in the siege of Jerusalem. However, that part of the story which deals with life at Rome and the defeat of Vitellius is accurate in its portrayal of some characteristic scenes of Roman times. In general, _The Gladiators_, while it has an impossible plot, and consists mainly of a series of gorgeous scenes, may be said to portray Roman life very well in most of its scenes. It lacks unity in its story and probability in some of its details, and this is what prevents its having a completeness of realistic effect.

It would be absurd as well as unfair to call _Ben Hur_ (1880), Gen. Lew Wallace’s great novel of Roman life, “merely a popular” novel. A gorgeous romance it certainly is,—but this is not all. _Ben Hur_ has been and still is “popular” in the best sense of the word. Some of the finest novels of Roman life, even such great works as Kingsley’s _Hypatia_ and Canon Farrar’s _Darkness and Dawn_, make their strongest appeal to the cultured few; _Ben Hur_ appeals with equal power to all. Moreover, some novels of Roman life interest every one for a time, yet later lose their power to interest; _Ben Hur_ has become a permanent thing, appealing to the popular taste of all time. _Ben Hur_ is the first novel of Roman life in English which has with uniform success combined a high seriousness and sincerity of tone, with a use of the sensational achieving the utmost in realistic effect. Such a combination was only partly attempted in _Hypatia_,—which only makes a limited use of the sensational,—and was only equalled in isolated parts of _Salathiel_. _Ben Hur_ has been called a romance, but as one reads it, his feeling is not, “This is romance,” but “This is life!”

_Ben Hur_ is so universally known, that it is needless to review it here. It has never ceased to be sold in English-speaking countries; while it has been translated into French, German, Bohemian, Swedish, Turkish, Spanish, Portuguese and Arabic, and printed in raised letters for the blind. Its dramatization has also increased its popularity. Hence we need now only consider a few points about _Ben Hur_ in regard to its relation to our subject. In the first place, _Ben Hur_ is definitely a novel of Roman life, though its scene only goes to the city of Rome in occasional brief explanatory paragraphs. Other novels of Roman life so far considered have deserved to be called such, either because their scene was laid (at least in part) in Rome, or because it was laid chiefly in some great city of the Empire, (as Alexandria in _Hypatia_), in which life very strongly resembled the life of Rome. But from _Ben Hur_, more than from any other novel, one gets a sense of other related parts of the Roman world. Other novelists, as Croly in _Salathiel_, have successfully carried their characters to different parts of the Roman world, and have described scenes, which were of deep significance, but which none the less were associated in one’s mind with a definitely limited place. But in _Ben Hur_ from the beginning of the story, when the three “wise men,” representing the antiquity of Egypt, the learning of the East, and the culture of Greece, meet and pursue the common purpose of their lives, one perceives that the important events and even minor episodes of the story are to be of such tremendous significance, that they throw off the limitations of time and place. The events of _Ben Hur_ are accurately assigned by the author to different historical places, but they really belong not so much to separate, individual parts of the Roman world, as to the whole of that world. Christ was born in Palestine (the scene of most of _Ben Hur_), but His message was to the whole world,—and the world was then Roman. Ben Hur was a Jew, but the message he received was for Jew and Gentile, Roman master and Roman slave. That the entire world was Roman in the time of Christ is shown by Wallace with great care and fidelity. Wherever the story takes one, he meets with characteristic Roman scenes. Scenes in Palestine show the unmistakable marks of the Roman oppressor, and the bitter hatred with which Rome’s power is regarded. We meet with Roman soldiers, a Roman slave-gang, we witness the departure of a Roman galley, and a Roman fight at sea; we behold the conclusion of a Roman all-night revel, while the Romans take precedence over all other celebrants in the Grove of Daphne. Even the chariot-race scene,[28] the most famous in _Ben Hur_, could have been transferred to Rome, and is characteristic of the Roman world.

How then does _Ben Hur_ show the coming of Christ into the world, the material part of which was under Roman sway? The novel is called in its alternative title _A Tale of the Christ_;—and such it is. The figure of Christ appears when he is a babe worshipped by the Magi, and later in scenes near the time of the Crucifixion; but these scenes are based on Scripture rather than created by Wallace. We have spoken of the fact that no novel of Roman life can be successful, if it makes Christ the central figure or character. _Ben Hur_ does not do so; but its author shows enough of the life and death of the lowly Nazarene to convince one of His Divine Influence upon the Roman world, which has become the world of today. Ben Hur as he listened to the preaching of Jesus, and gazed upon His wonderful countenance, remembered having seen Him before. “That the look so calm, so pitiful, so loving, had somewhere in the past beamed upon him as that moment it was beaming on Balthazar, became an assurance. Faintly at first, at last a clear light, a burst of sunshine, the scene by the well at Nazareth what time the Roman guard was dragging him to the galleys returned, and all his being thrilled.” This quotation is typical of the story of _Ben Hur; a Tale of the Christ_. The mother and sister of Ben Hur suffered misfortune at the hands of the Romans, and were only freed from the cruelty of the Roman world by their acceptance of and meeting with The Master. Lew Wallace is equally great in his portrayal of the material life of Rome and the spiritual life of Christ.

Having chosen his subject, Wallace wisely refrained from making any very great use of Roman history, or of Roman historical characters not important in the Bible story. But just as the scenes of his novel are typical of life in the Roman world, so his characters exhibit the variety of race, creed and nationality to be found in the people Rome ruled. Beside a number of different types of Hebrew character which the author portrays, there are at least two kinds of Romans in _Ben Hur_, the proud, cruel oppressor, in Messala, and the magnanimous benefactor, in Quintus Arrius. Other characters represent the sage of whatever nationality, the youthful Greek with his perfect physical beauty, the Arab sheik, the seductive siren of the Nile, the devout Christian, and the pagan priestess. But Wallace does not rely too much on atmosphere or local color. His knowledge of Roman history was sound. While Messala, an imaginary character, is important in the story, Sejanus, who controlled the politics of Rome, is given his proper place in the background. In fact, the scholarship of Wallace was sound in every way. While he did not finish his schooling according to the prescribed course, he completed his own education more thoroughly than most men do. He was a great reader of good books, and at the age of 19, had read every book in his father’s library,—700 standard works. He continued to be a great reader and student, and formed a large library of his own. Besides his reading Wallace had a rich experience of life on the battlefield and in public life, and was peculiarly well fitted to understand with sympathy all sorts and conditions of men. _Ben Hur_ is the only other novel of Roman life, besides _Salathiel_, to arouse successfully the reader’s sympathy for a Jewish hero. In his presentation of Ben Hur as a slave, Wallace showed his realization of antiquity of the slavery question; and he had shortly before done his part in settling forever that question. His sympathetic understanding of men, women, and little children of the present aided him in portraying with sympathy various types of character seen in the life of the past. _Ben Hur_ is a novel which voices the hopes and aspirations of the common people of all the world.

Any estimate of the absolute value of Ben Hur must place Lew Wallace’s novel very high indeed. If one discounts the great influence the book has had upon its many readers, and considers it simply as a piece of art, it still ranks very high. While _Ben Hur_ is said to have brought its author more sudden fame than any other novel has brought to an American author, this fame which came suddenly, did not as suddenly depart. If he is judged by the merits of _Ben Hur_, Wallace deserves to be ranked, as a novelist, with other great American novelists, such as Cooper, Hawthorne and Howells. In the opinion of a noted authority on American literature, _Ben Hur_ “is in every respect a great novel.”[29] And it is impossible to differ with this opinion. Reduced to its lowest terms, all adverse criticism of _Ben Hur_ lies in an arraignment of its so-called “faulty syntax.” Those who make this criticism in every case fail to give any quotation in illustration of their view, or to be specific in any other way. If one were to go through _Ben Hur_ hunting for irregularities of syntax, doubtless he could find them just as easily as they may be found in the work of almost any other great novelist,—and perhaps no more easily. It is doubtful if the great majority of reviewers who have criticised the syntax of _Ben Hur_ have had any thorough appreciation of what syntax is. Moreover, to quote a recent work on style, by a classical scholar, who is speaking of the style of Sophocles, it seems “that liberties of this kind are not confined to any particular stage of literary history, but are mainly due to the individual bent of the writer’s genius. No ancient author, however, has carried them to a greater length than Sophocles, ... he rejoices in those confusions of _syntax_ ... by which one construction is suddenly merged in another.”[30] Sophocles has not perished on account of irregularities of style or syntax, nor will Lew Wallace, for any such reason. The free style of _Ben Hur_ is well suited to describe its ever-changing scenes. Nor is the novel to be criticised for looseness of construction. Its combination of unity and variety make _Ben Hur_ in every sense a great novel suited to a portrayal of life in the Roman Empire in the time of Christ. The chariot race, the sea fight, and the disentombing of Ben Hur’s mother and sister, are thrilling episodes in the world’s literature; and considered as a whole, _Ben Hur_ is one of the great novels of all time.

After the appearance of _Ben Hur_ many “popular” novels of Roman life tend toward a greater or less imitation of Lew Wallace’s great novel. There is, however, little such imitation in John W. Graham’s _Neaera_ (1886), a novel the author of which displays genuine scholarship. In its description of the splendor and crime of the court of Tiberius, _Neaera_ depends much on the _Annals_ of Tacitus, which furnishes the best source for such a description of the Rome of Tiberius. The character of the gloomy Emperor is well drawn, as are also those of Sejanus, his mistress Livia, and Lygdus, the eunuch. Domitius Afer is made prominent, and through him we learn of the methods of the Emperor and others who make use of the ruffians of the Subura to attain their ends. The banquet of Apicius, and his suicide furnish the material for a realistic description of manners.

An example of a very poor kind of “popular” historical novel is found in _The Son of a Star_ (1888), by B. W. Richardson. This is a wildly fantastic romance which bears on the title page a quotation from Horace, “Ficta voluptatis causa sit proxima veris,” but is certainly very far from the truth in most respects. While _The Son of a Star_ makes occasional brief displays of accurate scholarship, chiefly borrowed from other novelists, its loose construction and false atmosphere make it a good example of the novel of Roman life “gone to seed.” The bright, though false, coloring of this romance suggests the work of Sir Rider Haggard, which has already been excluded from consideration in this study. His _Cleopatra_ appeared in the following year (1889). This date, in fact, may be said to mark the point at which the pretended novel of Roman life, with its artificial coloring, becomes separated from the true novel of Roman life.

The idea of presenting the life of Rome as a gorgeous and at times bloody spectacle, with a frequent use of the sensational, reached its greatest height in _Quo Vadis_ (1895), by the Polish author, H. Sienkiewicz. This idea had appeared in the English novel of Roman life, _e. g._, in _Salathiel_ (1827), _The Gladiators_ (1863), and _Ben Hur_ (1880). There is no need to review _Quo Vadis_ in detail here, since it is so well known; but let us establish its relation to the English novel of Roman life. It appeared after Eckstein’s _Nero_ (1889), and a number of English novels of Roman life of the time of Nero, and may owe some of its inspiration to these, especially to _Darkness and Dawn_ (1892). But after _Quo Vadis_ was translated into English (1896), its influence upon later English novels of Roman life overshadowed even that of Canon Farrar’s great and more serious work. _Quo Vadis_ has been translated and read in civilized lands even more widely than _Ben Hur_. These are the two novels of Roman life which have had the most widespread influence upon all subsequent novels of Roman life the world over. _Quo Vadis_ adds practically no new element to the novel of Roman life, but puts certain elements which already existed into a more intensely vivid, and even lurid form,—in short, emphasizes the sensational. In its larger outlines _Quo Vadis_ is reminiscent not only of _Darkness and Dawn_ but of _Hypatia_. It represents the same struggle between the Christian Church and the Roman pagan world, the same triumph of Christianity. The contrast lies between the proud, voluptuous, and cruel spirit of pagan Rome and the spirit of humility and hope of the dwellers in the catacombs. A personal contrast is seen between Nero, the royal performer in the circus, and St. Peter, the fisherman who was to rule the world by his example. Other characters are those familiar to the novel of Roman life, Petronius the connoisseur in luxury, Vinicius the active young Roman noble, Lygia the beautiful Christian maiden condemned to the arena, Ursus the powerful slave, the dissolute Poppæa and members of Nero’s court, Croton the athlete, Glaucus the forgiving Christian, and others too numerous to mention. The scenes of _Quo Vadis_ are also familiar, much the same as those of _Darkness and Dawn_, the picture of the fire at Rome being especially fine. While the moral lesson exists in _Quo Vadis_, what Sienkiewicz did for the novel of Roman life was to portray the life of the city of Rome itself in a form absolutely irresistible to the so-called “average” reader. Realistic effect was the most important thing to the writer of _Quo Vadis_; and in preparation for the writing of a novel which should portray the life of Rome with realistic effect he traveled widely and made a thorough study of numerous Latin authors, especially those who describe the life of Rome of the first few centuries A. D. The result is that Sienkiewicz was a profound scholar; and his scholarship appears in _Quo Vadis_,—though the novel shows some instances of error, chiefly topographical error, especially in the description of the great fire. None the less _Quo Vadis_ is now the novel of Roman life which shows to the greatest extent a combination of careful scholarship and popularity of appeal. By 1900, nearly 2,000,000 copies of the English translation (1896), by Jeremiah Curtin, had been sold; and the influence of the novel upon popular taste is still important, since it creates beyond a doubt in every reader’s mind a desire to read further in Roman historical fiction.

_The Sign of the Cross_, by Wilson Barrett, appeared immediately after _Quo Vadis_, and, though very popular, is nothing but a weak and slavish imitation of Sienkiewicz’s great novel. This is all that need be said of _The Sign of the Cross_ as a novel, since there is nothing original about it, and its brief popularity was due entirely to the reflected splendor of _Quo Vadis_. The fact that this novel was turned into a play with some success, following the example set by the dramatization of _Ben Hur_, shows that theatrical managers realized the possibilities offered by a novel of Roman life. Unfortunately the drama of Roman life presented either on the stage or the screen, has in nearly every instance, become more a gorgeous spectacle or a sensational melodrama, than a serious drama. But the drama of Roman life is mentioned here, since it has induced many who have seen such a play to read the novel on which it was based. This was the case with _Ben Hur_, which in the form of a novel offers, I believe, a higher and stronger appeal than any dramatic production based upon it.

Another novel which definitely goes back to _Quo Vadis_ for its best scenes, but is possessed of some individual merit, is _Amor Victor_, the third edition of which appeared in 1902. This novel, by Orr Kenyon, is also marked by the seriousness of purpose which underlies the sensationalism of _Quo Vadis_. It particularly resembles _Quo Vadis_ in its scenes in the arena, and in showing the tremendous difference between the appalling difficulties presented to the Christian at the time of the Empire, and those which he now meets. But _Amor Victor_ also shows the similarity of atrocities committed by pagans then and now. This novel seems to be the first to draw parallels between events in the past and definite, specific occurrences of the present, taken sometimes even from personal experiences. For example, the author, in describing certain almost unthinkable atrocities which occurred in the Roman arena, shows how exactly the same outrages were committed upon the Christians by the Turks shortly before he wrote. Even since _Amor Victor_ was written, these scenes have been repeated in Turkey. Moreover, Kenyon, in describing the scene in which Arsaces, the giant Parthian, kills a lion in the arena, is recalling the time when he himself had seen Sandow, the famous strong man, throw a lion in a public exhibition. This definite use of an incident, which the author has seen with his own eyes, aids him in achieving realistic effect. A similar use of an incident which actually occurred, is made by Mr. E. L. White in _Andivius Hedulio_ (1921), in which the description of the miraculous escape of Commodus’ chariot from disaster was suggested by a real accident in the streets of Baltimore. _Amor Victor_ takes its story of St. John the Apostle from the patristic writings. It is accurate in its historical coloring. In speaking of his serious purpose, the author says in a note at the end of _Amor Victor_, “Newell Dwight Hillis has shown that really great works of fiction are those which illustrate some vital principle, some deep moral lesson.” The novel conveys a moral lesson. Yet, while parts of it are also written in juvenile style, _Amor Victor_ is not merely a story of religious instruction, but a true novel of Roman life. _The Story of Phaedrus_, by Hillis, to which Kenyon has reference in his quotation, is more a story of religious instruction written in distinctly juvenile style. Its hero does not see much of Roman life, since he spends most of his life in copying sacred writings in the depths of the catacombs.

An imitation of _Ben Hur_ with some original touches is Mr. Irving Bacheller’s _Vergilius; A Tale of the Coming of Christ_ (1904). The author reverses the plan of Lew Wallace, by placing the birth of Christ at the end, instead of at the beginning of his story. Mr. Bacheller’s attempt to use the birth of Christ as a climax, to which the rest of the story leads, is not very successful. His treatment of sacred scenes falls far below that of Lew Wallace, and the construction of his plot is poor. But he has described some scenes in Roman life with fine realistic effect, particularly those which take place in the magnificent palaces of Rome and Jerusalem. The descriptions of intrigues which take place in the court of Augustus, show the uncertainty of life at Rome at the time. The characters are few in number, Augustus and the young Jewish prince Herod Antipater being the only important historical figures. The crafty nature of Augustus is portrayed with a very keen insight into the depths of human nature, and the vindictive hatred of the Jewish prince forms a marked contrast to the noble, ingenuous nature of Vergilius, the imaginary hero of the story. Vergilius is a young patrician, and a favorite of Augustus; his character is not idealized and is quite representative of Roman times. In justice to Mr. Bacheller’s work, it should be said that he has not attempted to fill as large a canvas as did Lew Wallace in _Ben Hur_; his picture of life in Roman times is more limited in its scope, and more chaste in its outlines. Scenes which make use of the sensational are not overdone. _Vergilius_ is a novel of Roman life, containing many beautifully written passages, which give it a very high position among such novels.

_Lux Crucis_ (1904) is a very readable novel by Mr. Samuel M. Gardenhire. It is called by its author _A Tale of the Great Apostle_, and is dedicated to the Rt. Rev. Ethelbert Talbot, Bishop of Central Pennsylvania. _Lux Crucis_ is, more than any other novel I know of, an attempt to portray Roman life by taking as much material as possible from previous novels of Roman life. Everything is thus taken at second-hand, without recourse to original sources. This method may show wide reading, but hardly shows thorough scholarship. Scenes in the arena depend upon _Quo Vadis_; scenes which have to do with St. Paul and Christian characters suggest _Ben Hur_ and _Darkness and Dawn_; while other passages, especially that representing the gladiator’s school, undoubtedly go back to _The Last Days of Pompeii_. The author takes his history, chronology, and topography at second hand, and apparently he is confused in his remembrance of his own reading. The result is that _Lux Crucis_ probably contains more ridiculous mistakes than any other novel of Roman life. For example, a so-called Briton is given the Anglo-Saxon name of Ethelred, though he lives in the time of Nero, before the Saxon invasion of Britain; he is made to come from Brittany, though Armorica did not receive that name until at least six hundred years later; and he speaks of crossing the channel to Angle-land, “with a smile.” (The reader also smiles.) An anachronism which is related to topography occurs, when the Forum of Trajan is mentioned in this story of Nero’s time, though the accession of Trajan did not take place until thirty-three years later. These typical instances of error in _Lux Crucis_ are selected from a great number, some of which are almost equally bad. It is remarkable that, in spite of these inconsistencies, the novel is pleasing in its portrayal of characters, historical and non-historical, and many of its scenes are by no means devoid of realistic effect. _Lux Crucis_ furnishes examples of the pitfalls awaiting an author who has attempted a piece of work requiring scholarship, but has been handicapped by his unscholarly methods.

Mr. Walter S. Cramp’s popular novel, _Psyche_ (1905), describes the Rome of Tiberius, and contains much sound history taken from the _Annals_ of Tacitus. In this it resembles Graham’s _Neaera_, which had appeared in 1886. In 1913 Mr. Cramp published another novel of Roman life, called _An Heir to Empire_, which is much like _Psyche_ in its general outlines, except that the story centers in the life of Augustus’ court, instead of in the life of the court of Tiberius. It makes no great misuse of history, but adds too many fanciful details to historical episodes; this in spite of the fact that the novel is formally dedicated “To the Honorable Rodolpho Lanciani, whose genius touched the dust and ruins of Ancient Rome and made them live.”

F. INFLUENCE OF FRENCH NOVELS OF ROMAN LIFE

Hitherto no mention has been made of the influence of French novels of Roman life upon English novels of Roman life. And I have found that this influence of French novels is not nearly so important as might be supposed, but on the whole, is rather an indefinite thing. But before concluding our survey of the “popular novel” of Roman life and the “gorgeous romance,” it is best to say a few words, (regarding the latter phrase especially), of the influence of certain French novels. In 1862 Gustave Flaubert’s famous _Salammbo_ appeared in the English translation. While this great work undoubtedly had a tremendous influence as a “gorgeous romance,” it is difficult to trace this influence directly. _The Gladiators_ (1863) appeared the following year, and exhibits a similarity of style in presenting the gorgeous pageantry of the past; but while _The Gladiators_ may owe something to _Salammbo_, it seems more likely that Whyte-Melville’s novel was an independent effort to please a certain element of the public taste. Later and greater novels, such as _Ben Hur_ and _Quo Vadis_, may have profited by the splendid example of Flaubert, who filled a large canvas with brilliant colors, but did not sacrifice truth,—but here again the influence is indefinite. In fact, _Salammbo_ appears to have stood forth with such tremendous power that it discouraged rather than encouraged imitation. No one,—so novelists have thought,—could hope to equal Flaubert’s novel in splendor of style or in realistic effect. Thus _Salammbo_ has remained the only great novel whose scene is ancient Carthage. Though its scene does not go to Rome, no view of Roman life would be complete without some knowledge of the most powerful enemy of the Roman Republic, whose life was so closely connected with that of Rome. _Salammbo_ combines the story of a Carthaginian princess, a sister of Hannibal, with an account of the Mercenary War. The description of this war of Carthage with her own soldiers, suggests troubles Rome later had with armies composed of heterogeneous elements. _Salammbo_ is equally vivid in its description of the pagan customs of Carthage, particularly of the custom of offering human sacrifices to Moloch. A few books which describe the city life of Carthage, or her wars with the Romans, no doubt owe their inspiration indirectly to _Salammbo_. G. A. Henty’s excellent book for boys, _The Young Carthaginian_ (1886), describes the political organization and social conditions existing in the city of Carthage, and gives a similar description of the sacrifice to Moloch, before taking Hannibal on his campaign against Rome. _The Lion’s Brood_ (1901) has its scene entirely in the Italian peninsula. Recently Señor Blasco Ibañez published _Sonnica_ (1920), which seems to show evidence of his reading of _Salammbo_. In this novel Hannibal’s siege of the semibarbaric city of Saguntum recalls Flaubert’s description of the siege of Carthage by the Mercenaries. _Sonnica_, besides giving a good characterization of Hannibal, is especially noteworthy for its accurate portrayal of the stern, bare, and crude city of Rome in the early days of the republic. This portrayal contains a fine paragraph on the Roman father, and mentions several historical characters, such as the vindictive Cato and the slave Plautus. _Sonnica_ does not appear as yet to have influenced novels of Roman life in English, though it may have given some suggestions to Mr. Jaquelin A. Caskie, who has written _Nabala_ (1922), an attractive novelette, dealing with the Third Punic War. More likely _Nabala_, (as everything else in fiction connected with Hannibal and Carthage before her fall seems to do), goes back for its principal inspiration to _Salammbo_. Its scenes of fighting outside the city of Carthage recall similar scenes in _Salammbo_, as does its description of what goes on inside the city, the human sacrifice to Moloch furnishing the climax of the story.

A novel written in quite different style by Flaubert is _The Temptation of St. Anthony_ (1874). This has for its scene the cell of an anchorite in the time of Constantine, since St. Anthony says in the novel, “The Emperor Constantine has written me three letters.” In describing the visions[31] which pass through the mind of the saint, however, the author makes it seem as though the entire pageant of the past history of the Roman Empire were passing before his eyes. In his temptation the saint sees pagan gods pass before him, and he takes on the personality of famous kings, with their unlimited power to gratify their passions. In his mental wanderings, he speaks of Athanasius, the Arians, and the monks of Nitria. This last thought recalls the part which the savage monks of Nitria play in Kingsley’s _Hypatia_, and the talk of other affairs of the Church also suggests _Hypatia_. Moreover, the situation of St. Anthony alone in his cell in the desert is strongly reminiscent of passages at the beginning and the end of Kingsley’s novel. But St. Anthony’s strongest temptation comes in the form of the vision of Thais, an irresistibly beautiful courtesan. This suggests M. Anatole France’s (Jacques Anatole France Thibault) _Thais_ (1889), which also makes a portrayal of the beautiful courtesan. Custom forbids English and American novelists from making such a portrayal in detail, and it is to be doubted whether they could present such a picture with the realism of French authors, whose view-point has always been radically different, as regards the degree of frankness to be allowed a novelist in portraying a man’s passion for a beautiful woman. The portrayal of the beautiful courtesan in the French novel of Roman life reaches the greatest frankness in Pierre Louys’ _Aphrodite_, which is, in effect, a description of the schools of prostitution in Roman Alexandria. French novels of this kind have had little effect on novels of Roman life written in English. However, there is one novel written by an American of French descent, which frankly tells the story of a beautiful courtesan, and will now be discussed.

Mr. T. Everett Harré published in Philadelphia in 1916 _Behold the Woman_. This is the story of the famous Alexandrian courtesan of transcendent beauty, who is known in the _Lives of the Saints_ as St. Mary of Egypt. Mr. Harré takes the general outlines of his story from the _Lives of the Saints_, though adding much from invention. And, while _Behold the Woman_ shows an individuality of style and a remarkable power of description, it appears to be a book full of echoes. There is, for example, some similarity of plot between _Behold the Woman_ and the _Thais_ of M. Anatole France, in that both novels portray the repentance and regeneration of the fallen woman.

M. France in _Thais_ had been said to combine “a curiously subtle piety of imagination with impiety of thought.” (B. W. Wells in _The Encyclopedia Americana_, 1920.) Whether this criticism is just or not, as applied to _Thais_, it must be said most emphatically that Mr. Harré’s work shows absolutely no impiety of thought. In presenting the facts of life in the Roman world, in _Behold the Woman_, he is making a simple statement of the truth. Piety of imagination is indeed displayed in the story of Mary’s conversion and life of penitence in the desert. But even in such a scene as that in which the supposed room of the Lord’s Supper is desecrated by the orgy of the fallen monks, the author shows no impiety of thought. Nor, if one sets aside questions of religion, and rests his faith on mere morality, can the charge of immorality be brought against _Behold the Woman_ with any sincerity whatever. In certain scenes of _Behold the Woman_ there appears evidence of a direct borrowing from Pierre Louys’ _Aphrodite_, in which there had been an elaborate description of the bath and toilet of the courtesan, with an extensive catalogue of her charms in symbolic language. In _Behold the Woman_ the scenes attending the destruction of the temple of Serapic remind one of Ebers’ _Serapis_, which had described similar scenes. But Mr. Harré particularly excels in describing with minute touches the superstition of the Roman soldiers, who were called upon to destroy the temple and its huge idol, but feared to do so. Moreover, the brutal conduct of the military on this occasion and at the breaking up of the banquet at Mary’s palace, well represents the ruthless use of Rome’s mighty power. There also appear to be in _Behold the Woman_ some slight suggestions taken from Kingsley’s novel, _Hypatia_, the same proper names being used, but transposed; the name of Philammon, Kingsley’s hero, is given to a character in _Behold the Woman_, who corresponds to one of the minor characters in _Hypatia_. Moreover, the scenes of riot in the streets of Alexandria, which appear in _Behold the Woman_, are reminiscent of similar scenes in _Hypatia_. The two books represent the savage monks in a similar way; and Mary is able to see through their sham Christianity, just as Philammon saw through the pretenses of the monks, in _Hypatia_. But as Mr. Harré says in his preface, he does not agree with Kingsley that “one who writes of such an era ... cannot tell how evil people were.” Here he is quoting the preface of _Hypatia_, though he does not say so. In _Behold the Woman_, he does tell how evil people were; and justly remarks in its preface that the novel is one for strong men and fearless women, not for children. The description of the orgy at the banquet in Mary’s palace is perhaps as realistic a portrayal of such a scene as is made in any novel of Roman life; but the frankness of this description is certainly very nearly equaled in Canon Farrar’s _Darkness and Dawn_, a novel which no one would think of calling immoral in any sense of the word. The description of Mary’s sordid life in the Brucheum, the slum quarter of the city, is also realistic, and portrays a side of life which has been neglected by the authors of novels of Roman life, even when they claimed to be presenting life among all classes of society.

Other scenes in _Behold the Woman_ are similar to those which are already familiar in the novel of Roman life. And no matter what he is describing, the author’s genius and originality have enabled him to portray scenes from life in Roman times, with a vividness and realism hardly exceeded in any novel of Roman life. The style of _Behold the Woman_ is richly ornamental at times, but never too flowery for the theme which the author has in hand. _Behold the Woman_ could be placed in the class of the “gorgeous romance” along with such novels as _Ben Hur_ and _Quo Vadis_. But it shows, more than any other novel of Roman life in English, the influence of the French novels of which we have spoken.

G. NOVELS WRITTEN BY TEACHERS OF ROMAN HISTORY OR OF THE CLASSICS

Some of the novels which have been mentioned were written by school teachers or college professors. Charles Kingsley at the time when he wrote _Hypatia_ was a school teacher very much in need of more pupils, whose fees would help him make both ends meet.[32] The Rev. A. J. Church, M. A., to whose books for boys allusion has been made, was a Professor of Latin at University College, London. But I wish to consider now those novels which have been written by teachers, who wished especially to illustrate certain periods of Roman history, or to make the life of some great Roman historical character stand out with particular vividness. The word “novels,” as here used, is meant to apply in the main to books which can be read with pleasure both by boys and their elders; and it will be recalled, that in defining the novel of Roman life, books written only for boys, or written with a religious motive, were excluded. The work of the Rev. A. J. Church is therefore excluded, practically for two different reasons. But, since it often touches closely the true novel of Roman life, the titles of some of his books will be mentioned. His _Two Thousand Years Ago_ (1885) has been spoken of, as following Eckstein’s _Prusias_ (1884), which is also on the Spartacus theme; but Church’s book is entirely a book for boys. _The Count of the Saxon Shore_ (1887) is a similar book on the period marking the end of Roman control in Britain. _To the Lions_ (1889) makes the same use of the correspondence between Trajan and Pliny that had been made in _Valerius_; but its scene is Bithynia, and it is purely a religious story. _The Burning of Rome_ (1892), as has been said, follows Eckstein’s _Nero_ (1889), but even this book by Church cannot be called a novel, though it is his best book. _Lords of the World_ (1898) describes the fall of Carthage and Corinth. Finally, _The Crown of Pine_ (1905) tells of the banishment of the Jews from Rome in the time of Claudius, of the preaching of St. Paul, and of the Isthmian games at Corinth. The style of this last book is characteristic of the Rev. Church’s work; his thorough scholarship is greater than his power to interest the reader, juvenile or otherwise.

A novel (for so it fully deserves to be called), written before the Rev. Church’s books, is _Helena’s Household_ (1858). This is by James De Mille, Professor of Belles Lettres at Dalhousie College, N. S. Though it has been catalogued as a juvenile book, it hardly deserves this description. And while it is dedicated to the Rev. John Pryor, D. D., and shows some influence of the story of religious instruction, it deserves to be classified as a novel of Roman life. _Helena’s Household_ has a very good historical background, and contains some very fine descriptions of life at Rome. The story of Boadicea’s defeat is told by a Briton who was taken captive on that occasion. This same Briton is made to fight in the arena, in a scene which is fairly well done. This mention of a British slave, and the outline of the siege and destruction of Jerusalem at the end of the novel, suggest _The Gladiators_ (1863), a novel which resembles De Mille’s book in its rambling construction. Nero’s atrocities are in the main passed over, though there is a fine description of the great fire at Rome, which he is said to have caused; and the buffoon Emperor is described as acting at the games in Greece. Pomponia is not made a very important character in the story, but her Christianity is made the excuse for entirely too much religious talk, for a novel of Roman life. St. Paul and St. Luke are represented as prisoners, and a fine description is given of St. Paul’s heroic death, though his martyrdom is not the central theme of the story by any means. Moreover, the life of the Christians is realistically described, without the false element of terror, which is often added to such descriptions. In spite of its rambling construction, and religious discussion, _Helena’s Household_ is a scholarly piece of work, which both illustrates Roman history, and portrays well the life of Rome. _The Martyr of the Catacombs_, (1858), by De Mille, is more a religious story than a novel.