Chapter I: The Emperor's Feast (1)

It is now over seventeen hundred years since late on an evening about the Ides of December, two men, with flowing palliums drawn closely about them, met near the statue of Janus, in the street of the same name in Rome.

"Ho! well met, Sisinnius. Coming from the baths, and, like myself, bound for the emperor's feast!"

"No, Aurelian, I've had a previous engagement to meet at my own house a man who is a celebrity in the city for his charity and skill in healing medicines. When my wife, Theodora, was so very ill last season, the old Grecian slave that nursed her said that, if permitted, she would seek Clement--that is his name--and told us of some wonderful cures he had wrought in her native country by an application of oil. I gladly accepted the offer. Clement, a venerable old man, effected Theodora's recovery. Since then he has been a frequent and welcome visitor at my house. If not too late, drop in when returning from the emperor's, and you will hear anecdotes of strange scenes and travels in many lands. Clement spends the evening with us."

"This, then, is what prevented your acceptance of Domitian's invitation?"

"Yes, and I assure you I look forward with more pleasure to an evening's conversation with my friend Clement than I would to the imperial festivities, although I understand no expense has been spared to make them surpass anything before witnessed, even the magnificence of Nero."

"Are you not afraid that your absence from the senatorial party will be noticed? Take care, lest, like the late Consul Clemens Domitilla, who scrupulously avoided those entertainments of the Saturnalia, you be suspected of a leaning toward the Jews. If so, your great popularity and worth would scarcely save you, as they did not save him, who was, moreover, cousin german of the emperor."

"Not I, Sisinnius! Afraid? Why, I am ready at any moment to sacrifice to the gods of my country and of my family. _I_ to acknowledge as the only son of the supreme Jupiter a Jew, of whom we know nothing save that he was nailed on a cross by the procurator Pilate! Poor Clemens Domitilla! So unaffected, so earnest, so honorable! May his manes enjoy elysium! It has been always a mystery to me how a man of his education, of his intelligence, of his high position and practical sense, could have been infected with this Christian leprosy. To deny the gods worshipped by his forefathers since the days of Romulus and Numa, and to adore in their stead this crucified Jew, of whom we are beginning to hear so much of late--it is inexplicable."

"It is part of the infatuation which clouds betimes the greatest intellects," said Aurelian; and then, lowering his voice, he added: "Pardon me for introducing a subject which you must not mention to your wife Theodora, nor to my affianced, Flavia?"

"I have no secrets from my wife, Aurelian, nor should you from your betrothed. No two men in Rome have more reason to trust a wife and an affianced than have you and I."

"There was a time, Sisinnius, when I thought as you. Would I had no cause to think otherwise now! What if _they_ are infected, as you express it, with this Christian leprosy, which led to the death of my betrothed's uncle, Clemens Domitilla?"

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"But you know," whispered Sisinnius, "there was another motive for Clemens' execution--_he_ was the most popular member of the imperial family. Domitian was jealous of his popularity and influence, as he is now jealous of this Jesus who is called King of the Jews, whose relatives he is seeking out in every quarter."

"Would not the same motive have force with regard to Clemens' niece--my betrothed, Flavia, if only a fair excuse could be found for the destruction of one so young, so fair, and so innocent? Would not you and I be involved in the ruin, if she and Theodora had the misfortune of leaning to Christianity?"

"By Jupiter, it is impossible," broke in Sisinnius. "My wife is a model, a very Lucretia in devotion to her lord, and attention to her household duties. The slaves are cheerful and obedient; the laborers set to work, stewarded and paid; the clients met and satisfied without long interviews with me. How one so young and gentle can manage to get through so much business and make our home so peaceful and happy is a wonder to me! I bless the gods for the treasure they have given me in her! When tired with the labors of office in the forum or in the senate, I am cheered by her welcoming smile on my return home. It is impossible that one of her business habits, so wrapt up in her husband and in her home, could have time or folly enough to trouble her head about this crucified Jew. Perhaps Flavia, who is rich, unoccupied, and, like all young people, romantic, may be silly enough to lend an ear to his sorcery. If so, the sooner you make her a wife, and give her business to attend to, the better."

"Was not Clemens Domitilla a sensible man, Sisinnius, most attentive to the duties of his consular office, and least likely to be led astray by a mere idea?"

"Undoubtedly he was considered a cool councillor, a practical commander, and the ablest statesman of our time."

"And yet he yielded himself up a captive to this new religion; nay, yielded up his life sooner than admit that Jesus was not the true God. You are still incredulous? I hope you may be right, and my suspicions unfounded, for both our sakes and the sakes of those we love like our own lives. But meet me at the third watch of the night of the 8th, before the Kalends of January, and I will promise you the means of sifting this matter to the bottom."

"Agreed. Don't forget to drop in at our place on your return from the emperor's banquet. You will meet Clement; and perhaps some one else, whose name I will not tell you lest I might have to consider myself indebted for your visit to the attraction of its owner. _Vale!_"

Leaving Sisinnius to ponder over what he had heard, we will follow Aurelian, as he wends his way to the palace of Domitian at the foot of the Esquiline. Aurelian was a young noble of high rank and vast wealth. The waxen images in his paternal atrium represented many who had sat on the curule chair; and brought his family history, stamped with the badge of nobility, back beyond the days of the Fabii and Cincinnatus. His Etrurian estates alone brought him in a yearly revenue, which in modern times would be considered fabulous by those not aware of the immense wealth of even private Roman citizens under the republic and the empire. His dress made known his rank to those who met him as he passed along the streets. The toga of whitest woollen cloth, the _latus clavus_, or broad purple stripe on his uncinctured outer tunic, and the golden "C" riveted on the upper leather of his short boots, were worn only by senators. Many stood to admire his tall figure, stately bearing, and rich dress; and some uttered words of praise. One remark fell upon his ears with ominous sound:

"Truly a Roman in birth and in appearance, and well worthy to be the mate of that beautiful creature, the niece of the late consul Domitilla!"

{388}

"I saw the solitary raven flap his wings to-day on a tree in the vestibule of her palace."

Aurelian passed on quickly as if he had not heard these words. But he was influenced like most Romans by the superstition which from the gestures and flight of birds would trace the adverse or prosperous course of futurity. Once only did he pause, as a Greek clad in sable tunic carolled in broken Latin a ditty, the burden of which, as it may throw some light upon our story, we shall attempt to inadequately render:

"She loved her lord as her lord loved her;
But him she will not love any more;
To-night to the feast she will not stir,
But she'll sup with the Christian called Theodore,
She will sup with the Christian called Theodore,
And her lover Aurelian she'll love no more;
Another, another has got him before--
A Christian, a Christian whom she'll adore!"

"What now, slave! Again taking liberties with noble names! Do you want to publish me to the whole city, Zoilus?"

"I admit it. Zoilus is my cognomen, master. It was an ugly mishap, considering my poetical turn, that made me namesake of the man who maligned Homer and got burned for his criticism. What a pity they did not give me the cognomen Homerus or Virgilius. By the lyre of Orpheus! if they did, I would write an epos like the Iliad or the AEneid, of which you, Aurelian, would be the hero, and Flavia Domitilla the heroine. You would see into what hair-breadth 'scapes you would be brought to be rescued by the sharp end of my poetical stylus. The only thing to be regretted now is that you will, likely enough, be brought into scrapes and find no escapes from them."

"Be silent, slave! I have no time for your jokes," exclaimed the nobleman in an excited tone.

"All right, then," said the imperturbable slave, "as you have no time to receive, I cannot have time to communicate news that does not concern _me_."

"Excuse my hasty temper, good Zoilus! I am going to the emperor's feast, and I fear I am after the appointed hour. Take this," and he slipped into the other's hand a silver denarius, "it will help to buy a pallium to cover your unkempt tunic. What about Flavia?" he said in lower but more earnest tones.

The silver piece had worked its effect upon the slave's manner, who replied: "She will not go to the imperial feast. She dislikes the emperor, though she is his adopted child; and naturally, on account of her uncle's execution. Moreover, she will not partake of meats blessed in the name of Jupiter, the father of gods and men, nor of wine poured out in libation to Bacchus. I suspect she has lost her attachment to you, and is falling in love with one of those Christians whom she is never done admiring. Look to it, my noble master! For, from expressions she has let fall, my informant suspects she has already been espoused to this admirer."

"And she engaged to me by the emperor himself?"

"Even this, notwithstanding; she has given herself over to this Christian, whom she declares she adores."

"Zoilus! if you are deceiving me, by that oath held sacred in heaven and in hell, I swear--"

"Swear not, my lord, until you have put me to the proof: Have I not engaged to meet you on the night of the 8th of next kalends, to give you an opportunity of judging on the testimony of your own eyesight? Until then, farewell And the slave bounded away before Aurelian could say another word, and chanted as he went:

"She'll sup with the Christian called Theodore,
And her lover Aurelian shell love no more;
Another, another has got him before--
A Christian, a Christian, whom she'll adore,
Adore, adore," etc.

Aurelian, though filled with bitter thoughts, paused to listen, and muttered as he heard the receding strain, which was now being chanted in doggerel Greek: "Well, we Romans are called masters of the world; but we shall yet be mastered by our slaves." There was great reason for the reflection. {389} For the slaves had now grown so numerous in Rome that the Senate feared to pass a law appointing them a distinctive dress, lest they should thereby come to the knowledge of their own strength. A law had been also proposed, though not passed in the legislative council, with the view of lessening their numbers by employing them in the public quarries and mines and other severe works, as the Jews had been long before employed as hewers of wood and drawers of water in the Egyptian bondage. Moreover, about this period writing and book-knowledge generally were, with very few exceptions, confined to the slaves in Rome. It was the sunset of the literature whose noon was lit up by luminaries such as Virgil, Horace, Cicero, and Sallust; and the few stray rays which yet lingered behind were either confined to the slave population of the city or, glancing over the Alps and the Pyrenees, rested upon favored spots in the ultramontane provinces.

As Aurelian thought over these and other matters he did not notice the places by which he passed, and soon found himself at the gate of the vestibule before the emperor's palace. He went through the massive bronze door into the atrium or hall. Here he waited while the slave, whose office it was, went to announce his arrival. His thoughts were diverted from the subjects which had engaged them to the magnificence of the scene around. The blue sky and brilliant stars above the _compluvium_, which was an open space through the roof of the atrium, were shut out and eclipsed by the many-colored lights attached to the marble pillars, white, black, and variegated, by which the slanting tiles of the roof were supported. Underneath the _impluvium_, which was an enclosed space corresponding and proportioned to the open one above, sent up interwoven ellipses of divers-colored waters through brazen tubes so arranged as to cast a rainbow-like halo over the whole place. Between the rows of pillars thus lighted up, receding in lofty and majestic file far as the eye could reach, and through the _fauces_, or corridors, formed by the chambers beyond them, there appeared the mellow glow of the lamps around the peristyle in the distance; while the sound of rushing waters fell agreeably on the ear. Nearer to him around the walls of the atrium Aurelian observed that the niches, where were deposited the images of the Emperor's friends and ancestors, were draped in veils of black, as if in mourning for his cousin the late consul Domitilla, but in reality because the family history did not afford many remarkable names beyond those of Vespasian and Titus.

While Aurelian was thus engaged in examining the splendor of the imperial residence, the slave who had gone to announce his arrival returned, and with him the "distributor of seats" in the royal _triclinium_. Led by the latter, Aurelian entered the _triclinium_, the Roman dining hall, which was decorated and lighted up in the same manner as the atrium. At the end of it, on an elevated platform of cedar wood, Domitian was seated on a throne of ivory inwrought and decorated with gold. The young noble made a low prostration on bended knees until permitted by touch of the golden sceptre to arise.

"Arise, Aurelian!" said the emperor. "To evidence our high consideration for you, we have delayed our guests ten strokes of the clepsydra. But be not distressed; we shall hear your explanations at another time. Where" (these words were added in an undertone) "have you left our fair cousin and child, Flavia? We expected her to accompany her accepted suitor and future husband."

"My sovereign lord and master! the most noble Flavia has been indisposed for some time, and regrets she cannot be present at the festivities this evening. Her friend the noble Theodora, wife of the Senator Sisinnius, has induced her, for change of air, to visit at their residence for some days, where she will have the advantage of meeting an old and experienced physician named Clement, who has travelled much in the East and thereby become acquainted with herbs and drugs that have acquired for him the repute of a mastery over bodily disease."

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"Clement, Clement!" repeated the emperor, striving to recollect himself; "I have heard of him somewhere before; but we shall talk of these things at a more fitting time;" and be waved his sceptre to the steward of the banquet.

Scarcely had the sceptre waved when the eastern side of the immense banquet hall was opened by some unseen agency, and an archway of vast proportions, without rent or flaw, was formed, through which the loose-robed slaves were seen driving a brazen elephant, on whose back was placed the huge abacus on which the banquet was served. This abacus, of solid silver, had admirable contrivances for the preservation of the warmth and flavor of every dish; and the whole repast "from the egg to the apple," including three courses, was served upon it. The number and nature of the dishes became at a glance known to the guests, for over each dish the silver or golden likeness of the fish, bird, or beast which supplied it was supported upon a very thin wire, so colored as to be invisible in lamplight. Here was the brazen image of the flamingo; there the golden plumage of the guinea-hen, the famous _Afra avis_, of the Romans, was outspread without any visible support in air. At another part the star-eyed tail of the peacock was extended fan-like, while a turtle and a sturgeon seemed to swim on either side of it. Every bird, fish, and beast held in repute by the Roman gourmands was represented floating or flying over this monster server. The slaves, who pushed it on golden rollers into the triclinium, danced as they advanced to the music of the flute, the harp, and other instruments. At the sound of a gong, struck by the head steward, "the distributor of seats" led the guests to the couches on which they were to recline. Having resigned their boots, or slippers, to the slaves appointed to receive them, they leaned back, supporting themselves on their left elbows on the soft couches covered with purple, embroidered with gold, and bearing the imperial arms. Many of the females preferred to sit, and for them suitable seats were provided. At another sound of the gong twenty slaves, in purple tunics and white aprons sustained on black cinctures, moved into the hall, with motions of head and foot and hands to suit the music, and removed the covers under which were placed the materials for the feast. The same movements took place before and after each of the courses. As soon as the covers for the second course were taken off, the _scissores_ or carvers cut the solid dishes and served the various meats according as the servants in waiting on the guests presented the plates. To show the extent of refined luxury to which the old Romans of the republic and empire carried things, it may be observed that the carvers so managed while cutting the dishes as to keep time with the knives to the music. In fact, the art of carving was a profession in Rome.

The writer of this hurriedly sketched tale may pause for a little here to assure the indulgent reader that he has made it a rule in the descriptions, in the substantial facts of the narrative, and in the lives of the leading characters to make imagination wholly the handmaid of truth. He is sure that in the scenes he endeavors to paint he is using the colors supplied him by pagan and Christian writers of the times. He might point specially to Polybius, Lampridius, and Plutarch as vouchers for his accuracy in describing a Roman banquet in the last ages of the republic and the first of the empire.

When the third course was over, the elephant and abacus were rolled with the same accompaniment of music and dance from the room. Then began the symposium, or drinking-feast. As the repositorium bearing the goblets and wines was introduced, the ceiling or the triclinium seemed suddenly as if by magic to disappear, and an immense stage with gorgeous scenery was lowered into the apartment. {391} As it quietly and slowly descended, the voices were heard singing as if from heaven:

"Strike the tympan, beat the drum!
Down from heaven we come.
Jupiter nodded--it must be so--
Down, down to earth below,
To greet the God, Domitian!

"Domitian is Jove upon earth we know,
Jupiter wills it-it must be so--
So, we'll beat our shields and our trumpets blow,
We'll launch the spear and we'll draw the bow.
And we'll dance 'mid the flying missiles, O!
Before the God, Domitian!

"We'll play as we play on Olympus' height,
Where Jupiter grasps the thunder's might
And hurls to earth its lances bright,
And sends from his throne the broad daylight--
We'll dance as we dance on Olympus' height,
Before the God, Domitian!"

By the time these lines were ended the stage had taken a stationary position about six feet from the ground, so that every guest from his bench or couch could have a full view of the performance. The first thing that struck the eye was a group of figures, male and female, dressed in various styles to represent the immortals. Here was Apollo with his lyre and halo; there was Diana in her huntress garb. Mercury, with his wand and winged sandals, was flying over the helmeted head of Minerva; while Vulcan, with the red glow of the furnace on his face, was, with the assistance of the Cyclops' hammers, forging thunderbolts for Jove. In another part the rustic Pan, with his goat-ears and oaten pipe, was playing, while the naiads and fauns in cloud-like Ionic tunics kept dancing as they fled from the pursuing satyrs.

Suddenly the scenery is shifted and the stage is filled with narrow-pointed, straight and double-edged swords fixed perpendicularly with the blades upward; while a number of persons in close-fitting garments dance alternately on their feet and hands, in the execution of which they somersault over the sharp weapons. Again, they time with martial tread to the quick measure of the Pyrrhic dance, the accompaniment to which was the rattle of their flying spears on the bronze shields they bore. The scene is again changed. The lamps are suddenly put out; and a vast chamber with vaulted roof, through which a subterranean damp oozes, is dimly seen by the light of a muffled lamp, which only helps to make "the darkness visible." [Footnote 117]

[Footnote 117: Tillemont and other historians relate this substantially
in the same way.]

Along the sides, which are draped in sable cloth, are ranged a number of coffins equal to the number of guests, each of whom reads his own name in fiery letters shining out upon one or other of them from the surrounding gloom; while demons, with snake-like locks and flame-like garments and black faces, ran in horrible frenzy about, shrieking out the names of the principal senators present. And a deep, sonorous voice, which seemed to rise out of the earth, pronounced the following:

"Hail, monarch of monarchs! whose mighty sway
The nations and tribes of the earth obey,
From the rising sun to the setting day!

"From the highest Alp to the island cove,
Thy power is felt like the power of Jove
When Olympus shakes at his frown above.

"The Celtic shout does not pierce the sky,
The Parthian arrows pause as they fly,
When thy name is heard 'mid the battle's cry.

"When heard from the height of Caucasian snow,
The beard-like woods on its chin bend low,
And the rivers cease down its cheeks to flow.

"When breathed abroad o'er the ocean waves,
The sea-monsters sink to the rocky caves,
Where, continents under, they scoop their graves.

"When uttered by spirits among the clouds,
They gather like flocks into frightened crowds,
And bind up the tempest in sable shrouds.

"The word of thy mouth is the simoom's breath,
Thy sceptre's wave is the scythe of death
Which sweeps all life to the domes beneath.

"Then how can aught mortal in earth or air,
The might or the power of thy sceptre dare
With the crown or a crucified Jew compare?
Domitian, Domitian! Beware, beware!"

As the last verse was being chanted, the stage, the voice, and awful chamber began slowly to ascend, until the last words seemed to fall from the sky!

"Domitian! Domitian!! Beware! beware!!"

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A hushed terror pervaded the spectators. The cruel character of Domitian was well known. History records that he could spend whole days in killing flies with a bodkin; which gave occasion to the witty reply of Vibius Crispus, who, being asked, "Who is with the emperor?" said, "Not as much as a fly." It is well known that he had at times ordered the execution of his most intimate friends and most favored officers; nay, that he had left his banquet to witness the death-throes of those who had partaken it with him. Lately he had become more and more suspicious of everyone and everything. He had conceived a great jealousy of the family and descendants of David, one of whom he had heard was worshipped by his numerous family as Lord of lords and King of kings. So much did this fear influence him that he sent out orders to his civil and military officers in the East to have every descendant of David, every relative of the Redeemer, arrested and brought to Rome. In accordance with this order two grandsons of St. Jude, who were, according to Jewish custom, called "brothers," whereas they were in reality only cousins, of our Lord, were sent from Judea to Rome, and examined by the emperor. Having questioned them about their family and about the empire of their relative, who by his adherents was adored as God, he laid aside his fears of their rivalry for the throne and dismissed them ignominiously. [Footnote 118]

[Footnote 118: Eusebius, Hist. Eccles.]

They had told him they were only poor peasants living on the proceeds of a small farm near Jerusalem; and in proof they raised their hands and showed him the palms roughened and the nails dirty from toil. But though he had laid aside his fears of these friends of our Lord, he did not cease to dread the increasing number of true believers. Therefore, as if to be on an equal elevation, he had some time before the date of the incidents of our tale issued an edict by which he commanded all his subjects to address him as a god, and to offer divine worship to his statue! Many citizens who gave evidence of their appreciating the absurdity of this edict had been put to death under his own eyes.

We may imagine, then, the secret feelings of the guests after viewing the scene that had been presented on the stage. The pantomimic art, which in ancient Rome and Athens had reached a height of perfection and magnificence now unknown, had applied all its resources on the occasion to suit the imperial mood. During the recitation of the verses descriptive of his power over animate and inanimate nature--whether in air, in earth, or in the sea--he held his head and sceptre erect as if with the conscious dignity of the godhead. But when the allusion to an opponent, to "the crown of a crucified Jew," fell on his ears, his brow lowered, his face darkened and his eyes flamed. His excitement was increased by observing the impulsive movements of many present, especially of a young officer of the court who, as the same allusion was being made, laid his hand upon his sword and advanced a step to the stage, until drawn back by a lady of mild aspect and of retiring demeanor. The only person else besides the emperor who noticed the motions of the young officer was Aurelian, who had conceived a jealousy of him for some kind attentions paid to Flavia Domitilla. These attentions were easily accounted for; the officer, as was customary with young noblemen of wealth, had been out for some years in the suite of the proconsul of Judea, a relative of Flavia. This circumstance led to an acquaintance between them. But it was observed by every one except Aurelian that the young man studiously endeavored to avoid as much as politeness would allow the company of Flavia as well as of other ladies of the court. This was the more remarkable considering her youth, her beauty, and her connection with the imperial family.

{393}

The other guests were too engrossed with their fears to observe what had not escaped the jealous eyes of Domitian and Aurelian. After an interval or suspense, to enjoy the effects produced by fear upon the guests, Domitian ordered them to continue the banquet--that the scene they had witnessed was the work of the pantomimes. This allayed their anxiety; but there was no zest remaining for enjoyment. Each one saw his own likeness in his neighbor's pallid face long after the stage had vanished. As soon as the usual formulas were gone through, they quickly and quietly took leave at an earlier hour than usual on such occasions, and left the emperor seated amid his magnificence.

Aurelian, having with the other guests left the palace at so early an hour, was glad to have so much time for visiting the house of Sisinnius. He had not seen Flavia Domitilla for nearly a month. She had been unwell; and, as often as he called, she sent word that she was not able to leave her room. He had called each day, and each day received the same answer. He was all anxiety for her health; for, her ways so artless, and yet so artful, had woven round his heart a network of loving thoughts and wishes for her welfare. She had been betrothed to him by the emperor, her cousin, guardian, and adopted father; and had avowed her attachment for him, and proved it by the affectionate kindness of her manner. But latterly he thought she had begun to treat him with coolness and to avoid his society. Jealousy suggested that her previously avowed affection had been diverted into another channel, to a different object. Could it be that after all his efforts to secure her love, after all her professions, she had withdrawn her affections and bestowed them on that young officer? Such were the thoughts that held longest possession of Aurelian's mind as he bent his steps toward the house of Sisinnius.

As soon as he touched the knocker, which was a ring grasped in a lion's mouth, the hall door was opened by Nereus, one of Flavia's most favored slaves. The little dog, the usual inmate of the Roman atrium, bounded in familiar gumbols about the purple band which bound the lower edge of his senatorial toga.

"Down, Hylax!" And he waved away the dog with the pallium he had just taken off to intrust to the servants until his departure. "I hope your mistress has recovered from her late indisposition?" said he, addressing Nereus, who, though humble and respectful in manner and language, seemed to have a dislike for Aurelian.

"Not quite recovered, my noble lord. The confinement at home was increasing the depression of spirits, under which she has been suffering since her uncle's death."

The door of an apartment off the atrium--not the triclinium, but a small _diaeta_, or parlor, where the family spent the winter evenings--opened and presented Sisinnius to view.

"Welcome, Aurelian! How so early from the feast? I heard that Apollonius of Tyana himself was brought from Corinth to aid in the entertainment; and I wonder to find you here before the sixth hour!"

"It is true, indeed, that Apollonius was in Rome some time ago. Either he or the infernal imps must have been there to-night!"

"You were highly amused, then?"

"Amused! Domitian's amusements are not likely to suit all tastes."

He laid aside his pallium and wide-leafed carpentum, and was arranging the folds of his toga, while Sisinnius in a whisper told him that Theodora, Flavia, and Clement were inside. After the usual salutations and courtesy he was introduced to the last named, whose venerable appearance impressed him deeply. The hand of time had polished the upper part of the stranger's head to a transparent whiteness through which the blue veins were visible, and had scattered the snows of some eighty years on the hairs, which, like a silver crown, encircled his neck and flowed down on his shoulders. His face was bronzed by long exposure to suns in many lands. {394} But there was about it an indescribable sweetness, and a charity beamed in his piercing eye sure to win the attention and good-will of all. He wore goat-skin sandals without stockings. The other parts of his dress, though indicative of citizenship and noble birth, were old and threadbare. The only ornament he wore was a plain gold ring, on which a cross was engraven.

Aurelian recognized in Clement the person who, some weeks before, when a physician was sought to attend one of the human [Footnote 119] victims in the capitol sacrificed to propitiate the god of war, presented himself and said: "I am not a physician by profession. But during a long life spent in foreign lands I have learned some secrets of the healing art. If permitted, I can relieve the pains of yonder victim." Leave was given; for according to the augurs it would be a bad omen if the victim expired before the conclusion of the sacrificial rite. Clement spoke in language which Aurelian did not understand, and raised his hand over the head of the sufferer, who, seeing it, brightened into smiles. He then took out a silver case from his side-pocket and rubbed its contents over parts of the wounded body; and immediately, before all present, the wounds inflicted by the fire were healed, and the victim was strong as ever. Recognizing now in the guest of Sisinnius the visitor of the capitol, Aurelian rejoiced to make his acquaintance. He rejoiced, too, on account of Flavia, whose health, dear to him as his own, would, no doubt, be soon restored by the skill of Clement.

[Footnote 119: Smith's Dictionary of Antiquities. _Vide
Sacrificium_.]

"Come, Aurelian," said Sisinnius, "help yourself to some of those Calabrian pomegranates and to a cyathus of Falernian. You seem to want it sadly, for you look as pale as if you had seen the ghost of Nero. While you help yourself, tell us how you fared at the emperor's. Did he by way of disport order any of those Jews or Christians to be executed?" The Jews and Christians were during the first centuries considered the same by the pagans.

"No! But it might have come to that had the entertainment been prolonged!" And be related the incidents we have already laid before the reader. When he spoke of the effect produced on the emperor by the allusion to the "Crucified Jew," the eyes of Flavia and Theodora met and turned to the face of Clement. The latter seemed for a time lost to the thought of all about him. Tears glistened in his eyes, which were sad and thoughtful, while his white head was bent and his lips moved silently. Sisinnius was too wrapt in the description of the banquet, and Aurelian too much complimented by the silence in which they listened to him, to observe the old man. Otherwise, they, like the two women, would have easily construed the motion of his lips into the words: "Father, not my will, but thine, be done. But give wisdom and strength to thy servant."

"This bodes ill for the Christians," said Sisinnius when Aurelian had finished.

"I would not wonder to find a worse edict than that of Nero posted on brazen tablets in the Campus Martius in a few days. Domitian is under the impression that they in their private meetings are plotting against his life and throne. He has already ordered one of the most intimate and trusted friends of Jesus to be arrested at Ephesus and to be brought in chains to Rome," said Aurelian.

At this announcement Clement, who had been a quiet listener, started as if with sudden pain; then as suddenly recovering his composure, he asked: "Is it possible they could think of dragging the good old man across the sea in this wintry weather? The journey would kill him."

"It is not only possible, but it is a fact," said Aurelian.

"You know this good old man, then?" asked Sisinnius.

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"Know him! Yes, good right have I to know him. There is not a country from the Pillars of Hercules or the Tin Islands of the North to the sunny steeps of Asia and syrtes of Africa, in which I have not been and met with many friends. Most of those I loved and labored with are gone"--he wiped away a tear--"but of all that remain there is none more worthy, none more venerated, none more dear to my heart and to the heart of one far greater than I, than John of Ephesus. He is the last of a generation now almost passed away--a generation of mighty workers--giants in their way--sent on earth to lay the foundations of an edifice, the stories of which are to be laid on age after age until they reach the sky. When he is gone, the last direct link between that generation and the present will be taken away. Already the work they commenced has fallen on frail and feeble shoulders." Here the speaker, who had forgotten his company in the warmth of his language, bent his head upon his breast, and again his lips moved silently. All present looked on wonderingly: there was something in the old man's appearance to excite their admiration.

Soon after, Clement rose to depart. Theodora and Sisinnius endeavored to induce him to remain. He had spent nights from time to time in their house, when the former had been sick; but now he was not to be moved.

"Young men!" he said as be rose, "we may or we may not meet again, No one can count on another day; it is better to arrange tonight what the morrow might not dawn upon." Theodora and Flavia bent their eyes inquiringly upon him: addressing them, he said: "To you I address the words often said to me by one I journeyed with for many years: 'Be always ready with lamps trimmed. The shadow of this world is passing away. The night is at hand; but remember there is a bright and lasting dawn beyond it.' Allow an old man, whose pilgrimage in this world will not be long, to invoke his blessing upon you all." He raised his outspread hands, and the ring with the engraven cross shone out as he solemnly said, "May my blessing and the blessing of the unknown God descend upon you. May he soon gather you all into that glorious edifice he has sent his workmen to build on earth, and there manifest to you the _admirable light_ and beauty of his countenance!" While he spoke, Flavia and Theodora bent their heads, as if some unseen influence was descending upon them; while Sisinnius and Aurelian attributed the manner of Clement to an eccentricities not previously noticed.

After Clement's departure, Aurelian approached Flavia to express his anxiety about her health. She was agitated. He saw that her face did not wear the sunshine welcome and the loving smile with which it heretofore brightened at his approach. She seemed sad, yet not unhappy, but anxious to avoid his presence and his look. Could the insinuations of Zoilus be true? Formerly when she went from home, or when she expected to meet him, she took trouble to heighten her great natural beauty of appearance and manner by artificial assistance. Her toilet table and attendants were models for the Roman ladies, who spent enormous sums on Asiatic cosmetics and Ionian female slaves to aid them in dressing. All seemed now changed with Flavia. Her dress was a mourning one of brown cloth, such as the wives of Roman shopkeepers might wear, drawn modestly about her from chin to feet, without a single ornament. Her hair was bound in no Persian head-dress, as was then the fashion with high-born dames; but was folded unpretendingly about her head, so as to conceal as much as possible the fair proportions of her full and polished forehead. Her dark eyes, usually so full of hearty affection, were not upturned as of old to his. He saw something was out of joint. Could it be the effect of sickness? If so, he would pour out all his fortune, melt down the silver and golden images of his ancestors, at Clement's feet, and beseech him to cure her. Or could it be that she had transferred her affections from himself to the young officer lately returned from Judea? Such were the thoughts flitting through the mind of Aurelian as he found himself alone with Flavia. Sisinnius had beckoned Theodora away.

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"Flavia!" he at length said, "in what have I offended? You appear distressed at my approach. Who can have a better right to that affection you always professed for me than I, who shall call you by a new endearing title on the next Kalends?"

"The next Kalends! You cannot be in earnest, Aurelian!" she said.

"Your guardian and adopted father, the emperor, has chosen that day for the fulfilment of the promise you have made me. It is a day to be for ever marked with Cretan chalk in my memory," he replied.

"But it cannot be! It is impossible!"

"Why not? How?" he asked.

"O Aurelian! you are too noble, too generous, you have been always too kind to me to force me to fulfil a promise which can never bring me aught but misery!"

"Misery? Why, have you not always professed the greatest confidence and love of me? Have I done anything to lose them? You admit I have not. How, then, can the fulfilment of your engagement make you miserable?"

"I shall never," she answered, "forget your kindness day after day to me, and I shall always love you as my brother. But any other relationship there cannot be!"

"I see it all plainly," he said. "You too have been infected by this new plague: you have withdrawn your affections to bestow them on another?"

"And suppose I have," said Flavia, grasping at another mode of calming his excitement. "You are too high in rank, too proud to accept the hand of one who cannot bestow her heart with it?"

"By Hercules! I know who this Christian enchanter is, and by the honor of a Roman knight--"

"Then, if you know him well, you cannot blame me for bestowing my affections on him. He is so beautiful, so noble, so glorious beyond the sons of men. His teeth are whiter than milk, and the words of his mouth are like the dripping of the honey-comb. He is encompassed with perpetual youth, and crowned with a comeliness which shall never fade. All these enduring qualities he promises to confer on me if I will love and serve him!"

"Love him then, infatuated girl! But serve him you never shall, if the sword and fortune of Aurelian can prevent it!"

"Aurelian, my brother! I will pray and ask him that you also may know him; for, if you did, you could not help loving and serving him."

"Do you wish to mock my misery," he bitterly asked, "now that you have blighted all on which my hopes of happiness rested? But, Flavia! remember I am not to be put off, if the power of Domitian can crush this Christian viper! Remember your uncle's fate!"

And turning be left the room.

TO BE CONTINUED.

------

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From The Dublin University Magazine.

The Libraries Of The Middle Ages And Their Contents.

Father Hardouin On The Classics.

The fourteenth century was doubtlessly an era of great literary activity with regard to transcribing and filling libraries with copies of the Latin Scriptures, of theological works in general, and of the classics. The learned and eccentric Jesuit, Father John Hardouin, fixed on it for the composition of all the supposed classic treasures of antiquity which we possess, except the works of Cicero, Pliny's Natural History, the Satires and Epistles of Horace, the Georgics and nine Eclogues of Virgil, the comedies of Plautus, the poems of Homer, and the history of Herodotus. All the rest were the brain-produce of the cloistered scholars of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, especially the latter, as being distinguished by the rage for collecting manuscripts and forming libraries. Not only were these supposed fruits of the classic pagan tree the growth of the Christian intellect of that late time, but the works of St. Augustin and his disciples were composed for them nine hundred years after their funerals.[Footnote 120]

[Footnote 120: John Hardouin, the son of a bookseller of Quimper, was
born in 1646. He entered at an early age into the Society of Jesus. He
soon distinguished himself by acute perception and a great memory, but
still more by cherishing such paradoxes as the above. The AEneid,
according to him, was the work of a Benedictine of the thirteenth
century, and was an allegorical description of St. Peter's journey to
Rome; and Horace's _Lalage_ was a type of the Christian religion.
The antique metals were all modern inventions, each letter representing
a word. "You are quite right, father," said an antiquary to him one
day. "These letters found on so many metals, Con. Os., and supposed to
stand for 'Constantinopli Obsignatum,' (stamped [sealed] at
Constantinople,) are evidently intended to read, 'Cusi Omnes Nummi
Officina Benedictina'--all moneys struck in the Benedictine Mint." He
was a most firm believer in all the dogmas of revealed religion, but a
thorough Pyrrhonist in human traditions. He classed Jansenism,
Thomassin, Malebranche, Quesnel, Arnauld, Nicole, Pascal, Descartes, Le
Grand, and Regis among the atheists. They were Cartesians, merely
another name for unbelievers. His learning was most extensive and his
works numerous. He died in Paris in 1729 at the age of 88.]

There was in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries a literary warfare between the Classicists and Romancists as real as that which sprung up in Paris before the three days of July, but much less noisy. We find among the 145 volumes bequeathed to the library of the church of Langres in 1365, by Jean de Saffres, about two dozen of romances whose titles deserve to be remembered. They were Renart, (Reynard the Fox,) Girart de Roussillon, Garin la Loherain, Aimeri de Narbonne, Raoul de Cambrai, Bueves de Barbastre,[Footnote 121] Jean dit le Lanson, Parise la Duchesse, Merlin, Courberau d'Oliferne, Gibert dit Desrée, les Sept Sages, les Machabées, Troie la Grant, (Troy the Great,) Florimont, la Rose, Beaudoux, (Sweet Beauty or Beautifully Sweet.) Clyges, Perceval le Gallois, Basin et Gombaud, Amadas, (Amadis, qu.,) Galaad, Lancelot, Tristan, (Sir Tristrem.)

[Footnote 121: A cherished manual of our youth was Wild Roses or
Cottage Tales, published by Anne Lemoine in some court whose name has
escaped our memory. One of the stories was "Barbastal, or the Magician
of the Forest of Bloody Ash!" Was _Bueves de Barbastre_ the
original of that terrible and interesting narrative?]

The Care Bestowed On The Libraries.

We may be certain that St. Benedict had not such books as these in his mind when he composed the following prayer of blessing on the works to be copied by his monks, a prayer which has been preserved in the Abbey of Fleuri-sur-Loire:

"O Lord, let the virtue of thy Holy Spirit descend on these books; let it
purify them, bless them, sanctify them. Sweetly enlighten the hearts of
those who read them, and impart their true sense to them. Grant us also
to be faithful to the precepts emanating from thy light, in accomplishing
them by good works, according to thy will"

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The same respect for good books is found in an the abbeys of the Benedictines. The very high value the religious communities set on rare works connected with their order, subjected the monks of the abbey of St. Denis to a cruel imposition in 1389. An imposter, such as some who have practised mighty deceptions in our times, a supple Greek named Paul Tagari, passing himself off for the patriarch of Constantinople, obtained thirty thousand crowns of gold from the king of Cyprus, on imparting the royal unction to his majesty, and a magnificent reception from the pope at Avignon, as he held out strong assurances of the return of the Greek schism to the faith. He announced to the simple monks of St. Denis the existence of some manuscripts from the hand of the very patron of their order, Saint Dionysius the Areopagite, who had heard the words of life from the lips of St. Paul himself, when he spoke to the news loving people of Athens on the hill of Mars. Two brothers set out on foot to Marseilles, and, deluded by the knave's representations, journeyed on from that to Rome. The Greek had got their money, but they got nothing by their long journey but the labor and expenses of performing it, and the chagrin of the disappointment.

The monks of Cluni were particular in the illustrating and the binding of their volumes. As a general rule the outsides of the volumes in the abbey libraries were not attractive. The Bernardine houses of Citeaux and Clairvaux affected the plainest style. We may here give an instance of the care taken of the precious volumes, by quoting the library rules of the canons regular: "The _armarius_ (literally, guardian of shelves or presses) should apply labels to the backs, catalogue the volumes, go over them twice or thrice in the year, see that they were not crowded, and that every volume was in its place." In case of a loan he was to record the borrower's address, the title of the volume, and the deposit received, which in all cases should be the registered value of the book. When the book was highly prized, he was not to give it out without the express sanction of the prior or abbot. He had charge of the parchment, the ink, the pens, the bodkins, and the penknives, and he kept an eye on the intern and extern copyists. The writers of funeral billets and of business letters were also under his control. He provided his indoor copiers with a quiet apartment where no one had right of ingress but the abbot, the prior, or the sub-prior. He examined the purity of the texts, the binding, the condition of the volumes. He kept the volumes in daily use, such as the Bibles, the accounts of the passion, the lives of the saints, and the homilies in a place accessible to all, regulated the readings during meal times, and corrected faults committed in reading or chanting, and arranged processions. Our Benedictine librarian had no sinecure.

The Rich Libraries Of the Begging Brothers.

The Dominicans were no less careful of their literary treasures. In a general chapter of the order, held at Saragossa in 1309, it was forbidden to every prior, sub-prior, or officer commissioned by them, to bestow, sell, lend, or pledge any book of which there was but one copy in the respective houses. Whoever was guilty of infraction was to be deprived of his faculties (official to wit) for three years. The theological works should not be sold out of the order. Whoever disobeyed should, till the restitution of the property, fast on bread and water one day in every week. A student was privileged, in cases of urgent necessity, to sell a book, the Bible and the great work of St. Thomas of Aquino excepted.

The English Richard de Bury before mentioned found the Dominicans the most keen-scented and zealous retrievers of rare treasures in bibliography.

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"When," said he, "they traverse seas and deserts, when they search the
recesses of convents, they never forget me. What beast of chase can
escape these keen hunters? What fish so small can wriggle out of their
nets?"

He goes on, mentioning how they despatch to him sermons lately preached in Rome, discourses delivered at a Paris university, and adds:

"We are now about visiting their convents and their books. There in a
profound poverty we shall discover untold of treasures. We shall find in
their baskets and their wallets, along with such crumbs as men fling to
the dogs, the unleavened bread of proposition, the bread of angels, the
granaries of Joseph filled with wheat, all the riches of Egypt, all the
sumptuous presents which the queen of Sheba offered to Solomon. Yes!
having come into the vineyard at the eleventh hour, the friars-preachers
have secured the richest vintage." (Victor le Clerc.)

These Begging Brothers, being a rich and numerous branch, secured the most valuable works everywhere. The Archbishop of Armagh having sent four theological students to complete their course at Oxford, they were obliged to return as they went, the Mendicant friars having bought up all the books: so that the poor Irishmen could neither borrow nor buy the Bible nor any theological work.

Divers presents were made from time to time to these lovers of books. In the end of a MS. of the Dominicans at Clermont, containing the pastoral of St. Gregory, and some tracts of St. Jerome and St. Isadore of Seville, is found the following note: