University of Virginia Library

LETTER VI.
FROM PISO TO FAUSTA.

Having confined myself, in my last letter, to the affairs
of Marcus and Lucilia, I now, Fausta, turn to those
which concern us and Rome.

I found on my return to the city that the general anxiety
concerning the designs of Aurelian had greatly
increased. Many rumors were current of dark sayings
of his, which, whether founded in truth or not, contributed
to alarm even the most hopeful, and raise serious apprehensions
for the fate of this much and long-suffering
religion. Julia herself partakes — I cannot say of the
alarm — but of the anxiety. She has less confidence
than I have in the humanity of the emperor. In the
honors heaped upon Zenobia, and the favors shown herself
and Vabalathus, she sees not so much the outpouring
of benevolent feelings as a rather ostentatious display
of imperial generosity, and what is called Roman
magnanimity. For the true character of the man she
looks into the graves of Palmyra — upon her smoking
ruins — and upon the blood yet hardly dry that stains
the pavements of the Cœlian. Julia may be right,
though I am unwilling to believe it. Her judgment is
entitled to the more weight in this severe decision, that it
is ever inclined to the side of a too favorable opinion of
character and motive. You know her nature too well,
to believe her capable of exaggerating the faults of even

the humblest. Yet though such are her apprehensions,
she manifests the same calm and even carriage as on the
approach of more serious troubles in Palmyra. She is
full of deepest interest in the affairs of the Christians,
and by many families of the poorer sort is resorted to
continually for aid, for counsel, or sympathy. Not one
in the whole community is a more frequent and devout
attendant upon the services of the church; and I need
not add that I am her constant companion. The performance
of this duty gives a value to life in Rome such
as it never had before. Every seventh day, as with the
Jews, only upon a different day, do the Christians assemble
for the purposes of religious worship. And I can
assure you it is with no trifling accessions of strength,
for patient doing and patient bearing, that we return to
our every-day affairs, after having listened to the prayers
and the reasonings or exhortations of Probus.

So great is the difference in my feelings and opinions
from what they were before I left Rome for Palmyra,
that it is with difficulty I persuade myself that I am the
same person. Between Piso the Pyrronist and Piso the
Christian, the distance seems immeasurable — yet in
how short a time it has been past. I cannot say that I
did not enjoy existence and value it in my former state,
but I can say that my enjoyment of it is infinitely heightened
as a Christian, and the rate at which I value it infinitely
raised. Born and nurtured as I was, with Portia
for my mother, a palace for my home, Rome for my
country and capital, offering all the luxuries of the earth,
and affording all the means I could desire for carrying
on researches in study of every kind; surrounded by
friends of the noblest and best families in the city, and I

could not but enjoy life in some very important sense.
While mere youth lasted and my thoughts never wandered
beyond the glittering forms of things, no one could
be happier or more contented. All was fair and beautiful
around me — what could I ask for more? I was
satisfied and filled. But by and by my dream of life was
disturbed — my sleep broken. Natural questions began
to propose themselves for my solution, such I suppose
as sooner or later spring up in every bosom. I began
to speculate about myself — about the very self that had
been so long, so busy, about everything else beside itself.
I wished to know something of my constitution, of my origin,
my present condition, my ultimate fate. It seemed
to me I was too rare and curious a piece of work to go to
ruin, final and inevitable — perhaps to-morrow — at all
events in a very few years. Of futurity I had heard —
and of Elysium — just as I had heard of Jupiter,
greatest and best, but with my earliest youth these things
had faded from my mind, or had already taken upon
themselves the character of fable. My Virgil, in which
I early received my lessons of language, at once divested
them of all their air of reality, and left them naked fiction.
The other poets, (Livy helping them,) did the
same work and completed it. But bent with most serious
and earnest desires toward truth on what seemed
to me the greatest theme, I could not remain where I
was, and turned with highest expectations to the philosophers.
I not only read, but I studied and pondered
them with diligence, and with as sincere a desire of
arriving at truth as ever scholar sat at the feet of his instructer.
The result was anything but satisfying. I
left off a universal sceptic, so far as human systems of
philosophy were concerned, so far as they pretended to
solve the enigma of God and man, of life and death;
but with a heart yearning after truth, and even full of
faith, if that may be called faith which would instinctively
lay hold upon a God and a hope of immortality,
though beaten back once and again by every form which
the syllogism could assume.

This was my state, Fausta, when I was found by
Christianity. Without faith, and yet with it; doubting
and yet believing; rejecting philosophy but leaning upon
nature; dissatisfied but hoping. I cannot easily find
words to tell you the change which Christian faith has
wrought within me. All I can say is this, that I am a
new man; I am made over again; I am born as it were
into another world. Where darkness once was, there is
now light brighter than the sun. Where doubt was,
there is now certainty. I have knowledge and truth for
error and perplexity. The inner world of my mind is
resplendent with a day whose luminary will never set.
And even the outer world of appearances and forms
shines more gloriously, and has an air of reality which
before it never had. It used to seem to me like the
gorgeous fabric of a dream, and as if at some unexpected
moment it might melt into air and nothingness, and I
and all men and things with it; for there appeared to
be no purpose in it; it came from nothing, it achieved
nothing, and certainly seemed to conduct to nothing.
Men like insects came and went; were born and died,
and that was all. Nothing was accomplished, nothing
perfected. But now, nature seems to me stable and
eternal as God himself. The world being the great
birth-place and nursery of these myriads of creatures —

made as I ever conceived, in a divine likeness, after some
godlike model, for what spirit of other spheres can be
more beautiful than a perfect man, or a perfect woman?
each animated with the principle of immortality —
there is a reason for its existence and its perpetuity from
whose force the mind cannot escape. It is, and it ever
will be; and mankind upon it, a continually happier and
more virtuous brotherhood.

Yes, Fausta, to me as a Christian everything is new,
everything better; the inward world, the outward world,
the present and the future. Life is a worthier gift and
a richer possession. I am to myself an object of a thousand-fold
greater interest, and every other human being,
from a poor animal that was scarce worthy its wretched
existence, starts up into a god, for whom the whole earth
may one day become too narrow a field either to till or
rule. I am accordingly ready to labor both for myself
and others. I once held myself too cheap to do much
even for myself; for others I would do nothing except
to feed the hunger that directly appealed to me, or relieve
the wretchedness that made me equally wretched.
Not so now. I myself am a different being, and others are
different. I am ready to toil for such beings; to suffer
for them. They are too valuable to be neglected, abused,
insulted, trodden into the dust. They must be defended,
and rescued, whenever their fellow-men — wholly ignorant
of what they are and what themselves are about —
would oppress them. More than all, do they need truth,
effectually to enlighten and redeem them, and truth they
must have at whatever cost. Let them only once know
what they are, and the world is safe. Christianity tells
them this, and Christianity they must have. The state

must not stand between man and truth; or if it do, it
must be rebuked by those who have the knowledge and
the courage, and made to resume its proper place and
office. Knowing what has been done for me by Christian
truth, I can never be content until to others the
same good is at least offered, and I shall devote what
power and means I possess to this task. The prospect
now is of opposition and conflict. But it dismays not
me, nor Julia, nor any of this faith who have truly
adopted its principles. For if the mere love of fame,
the excitement of a contest, the prospect of pay or plunder,
will carry innumerable legions to the battle-field to
leave there their bones, how much more shall the belief
of a Christian arm him for even worse encounters? It
were pitiful indeed, if a possession as valuable as that of
truth could not inspire a heroism, which the love of fame
or of money can.

These things I have said to put you fully in possession
of our present position, plans, and purposes. The
fate of Christianity is to us now as absorbing an interest,
as once was the fate of Palmyra.

I had been in the city only long enough to give Julia
a full account of my melancholy visit in the country, and
to write a part of it to you, when I walked forth to observe
for myself the signs which the city might offer,
either to confirm or allay the apprehensions which were
begun to be felt.

I took my way over the Palatine, desiring to see the
excellent Tacitus, whose house is there. He was absent,
being suddenly called to Baiæ. I turned toward the Forum,
wishing to perform a commission for Julia at the
shop of Civilis — still alive and still compounding his

sweets — which is now about midway between the slope
of the hill and the Forum, having been removed from
its former place where you knew it, under the eaves of
the Temple of Peace. The little man of `smells' was at
his post, more crooked than ever, but none the less exquisitely
arrayed; his wig befitting a young Bacchus
rather than a dried shred of a man beyond his seventieth
year. All the gems of the east glittered on his
thin fingers, and diamonds that might move the envy of
Livia hung from his ears. The gales of Arabia, burdened
with the fragrance of every flower of that sunny
clime, seemed concentrated into an atmosphere around
him; and in truth, I suppose a specimen of every pot
and phial of his vast shop might be found upon his person
concealed in gold boxes, or hanging in the merest
fragments of bottles upon chains of silver or gold, or
deposited in folds of his ample robes. He was odor in
substantial form. He saluted me with a grace, of which
he only in Rome is master, and with a deference that
could not have been exceeded had I been Aurelian. I
told him that I wished to procure a perfume of Egyptian
origin and name, called Cleopatra's tears, and which was
reputed to convey to the organs of smell an odor more
exquisite than that of the rarest Persian rose or choicest
gums of Arabia. The eyes of Civilis kindled with the
fires of twenty — when love's anxious brow is suddenly
cleared up by that little, but all comprehensive word,
yes — as he answered,

`Noble Piso, I honor you. I never doubted your
taste. It is seen in your palace, in your dress, nay, in
the very costume of your incomparable slave, who has
done me the honor to call here in your service. But

now have you given of it the last and highest proof.
Never has the wit of man before compounded an essence
like that which lies buried in this porphyry vase.'

`You do not mean that I am to take away a vase of
that size? I do not purchase essences by the pound!'

Civilis seemed as if he would have fainted, so oppressed
was he by this display of ignorance. My character
I found was annihilated in a moment. When his
presence of mind was recovered he said,

`This vase? Great Jupiter! The price of your palace
upon the Cœlian would scarce purchase it! Were
its contents suddenly let loose and spilled upon the air,
not Rome only, but Italy, would be bathed in the transporting
and life-giving fragrance! Now I shall remove
the cover, first giving you to know, that within this
larger vase there is a number of smallest bottles, some
of glass, others of gold, in each of which are contained
a few of the tears, and which are warranted to retain
their potency, and lend their celestial peculiarity to your
clothes or your apartments, without loss or diminution
in the least appreciable degree, during the life of the
purchaser. Now, if it please you, bend this way and
receive the air which I shall presently set free. How
think you, noble Piso? Art not a new man?'

`I am new in my knowledge such as it is, Civilis.
It is certainly agreeable, most agreeable.'

`Agreeable! So is mount Etna a pretty hill! So is
Aurelian a fair soldier! so is the sun a good sized brazier!
I beseech thee, find another word. Let it not go
forth to all Rome that the most noble Piso deems the
tears of Cleopatra agreeable!'

`I can think no otherwise,' I replied. `It is really

agreeable, and reminds me, more than anything else, of
the oldest Falernian just rubbed between the palms of
the hand, which you will allow is to compliment it in
no moderate measure. But confess now, Civilis, that
you have an hundred perfumes more delicious than
this?'

`Piso, I may say this, — they have been so.'

`Ah, I understand you; you admit then it is the
force of fashion that lends this extraordinary odor to the
porphyry vase.'

`Truly, noble Piso, it has somewhat to do with it, it
must be acknowledged.'

`It would be curious, Civilis, to know what name this
bore, and in what case it was bestowed, and at what
price sold, before the empress Livia fancied it. I think
it should have been named `Livia's smiles.' It would
at any rate be a good name for it at thy shop in Alexandria.'

`You are facetious, noble Piso. But that last hint is
too good to be thrown away. Truly, you are a man of
the world, whose distinction I suppose is, that he has
eyes in the hind part of his head as well as before. But
what blame can be mine for such dealing? I am
driven; I am a slave. It is fashion that works these
wonders, not I. And there is no goddess, Piso, like
her. She is the true creator. Upon that which is
worthless can she bestow in a moment inestimable
value. What is despised to-day, she can exalt to-morrow
to the very pinnacle of honor. She is my maker.
One day I was poor, the goddess took me by the hand
and smiled upon me and the next day I was rich. It
was the favorite mistress of Maximin, who one day —

her chariot, Piso, so chance would have it, broke down
at my door, when she took refuge in my little shop,
then at the corner of the street Castor as you turn towards
the Tiber — purchasing a particular perfume, of
which I had large store and boasted much to her, gave
me such currency among the rich and noble, that from
that hour my fortune was secure. No one bought a
perfume afterwards but of Civilis. Civilis was soon the
next person to the emperor. And to this hour, has this
same goddess befriended me. And many an old jar,
packed away in the midst of rubbish in dark recesses
now valueless, do I look upon as nevertheless so much
gold — its now despised contents one day to disperse
themselves upon kings and nobles, in the senate and the
theatres. I need not tell you what this diminutive bottle
might have been had for, before the Kalends. Yet,
by Hercules, should I have sold it even then for less?
for should I not have divined its fortune? The wheel
is ever turning, turning. But, most excellent Piso, men
of the world are ever generous —'

`Fear nothing, Civilis, I will not betray you. I believe
you have spoken real truths. Besides, with Livia
on your side, and what could all Rome do to hurt you?'

`Most true, most true. But may I ask? — for one
thing has made me astonished — how is it that you, being
now as report goes a Christian, should come to me
to purchase essences? When I heard you had so
named yourself, I looked to lose your custom forever
after.'

`Why should not a Christian man smell of that which
is agreeable as well as another?'

`Ah, that I cannot say. I have heard — I know nothing,

Piso, beyond essences and perfumes — but I have
heard the Christians forbear such things, calling them
vanities; just as they withdraw too 't is said from the
theatres and the circuses.

`They do indeed withdraw from the theatres and circuses,
Civilis, because the entertainments witnessed
there do, as they judge, serve but to make beasts of
men; they minister to vice. But in a sweet smell they
see no harm, any more than in a silk dress or well-proportioned
buildings, or magnificent porticos. Why
should it be very wrong or very foolish to catch the
odors, which the divine Providence plants in the rose,
and in a thousand flowers and gums, as they wander
forth upon the air for our delight, and fasten them up in
these little bottles? by which means we can breathe
them at all times — in winter as well as in summer.
Thy shop, Civilis, is but a flower garden in another form
and under another name.'

`I shall think better of the Christians for this. I
hardly believed the report indeed, for it were most unnatural
and strange to find fault with odors such as
these. I shall lament the more that they are to be so
dealt with by the emperor. Hast thou heard what is
reported this morning?'

`No; I am but just from home. How does it go?'

`Why, 't is nothing other nor less than this, that Aurelian,
being resolved to change the Christians all back
again into what they were, has begun with his niece the
princess Aurelia, and with violence insists that she shall
sacrifice — which she steadfastly refuses to do. Some
say, that she has not been seen at the palace for several
days, and that she is fast locked up in the great prison
on the Tiber.'

`I do not believe a word of it, Civilis. The emperor
has of late used harsh language of the Christians, I
know. But for one word he has spoken, the city has
coined ten. And moreover, the words of the priest
Fronto are quoted for those of Aurelian. It is well
known he is especially fond of Aurelia; and Mucapor
to whom she is betrothed, is his favorite among all his
generals, not excepting Probus.'

`Well, well, may it be as you say! I for my part should
be sorry that any mishap should befall those with whom
the most noble Piso is connected; especially seeing they
do not quarrel, as I was fain to believe, with my calling.
Yet never before, as I think, have I seen a Christian
in my shop!'

`They may have been here without your knowing it.'

`Yes, that is true.'

`Besides, the Christians being in the greater proportion
of the middle or humbler classes, seek not their
goods at places where emperors resort. They go elsewhere.'

Civilis bowed to the floor as he replied,

`You do me too much honor.'

`The two cases of perfume which I buy,' I then said,
`are to travel into the far East. Please to secure them
accordingly.'

`Are they not then for the Princess Julia, as I supposed?'

`They are for a friend in Syria. We wish her to
know what is going on here in the capital of all the
world.'

`By the gods! you have devised well. It is the talk
all over Rome. Cleopatra's tears have taken all hearts.

Orders from the provinces will soon pour in. They
shall follow you well secured as you say.'

I enjoy a call upon this whole Roman, and yet half
Jew, as much as upon the first citizens of the capital.
The cup of Aurelian is no fuller than the cup of Civilis.
The perfect bliss that emanates from his countenance
and breathes from his form and gait, is pleasing to behold
— upon whatever founded — seeing it is a state that
is reached by so few. No addition could be made to
the felicity of this fortunate man. He conceives his occupation
to be more honorable than the proconsulship of
a province, and his name, he pleases himself with believing,
is familiar to more ears than any man's save
the emperor's; and has been known in Rome for a
longer period than any other person's living, excepting
only the head of the senate, the venerable Tacitus.
This is all legible in the lines about his mouth and eyes.

Leaving the heaven of the happy man, I turned to
the Forum of Augustus, to look at a statue of brass of
Aurelian, just placed among the great men of Rome in
front of the Temple of Mars the Avenger. This statue
is the work of Periander, who, with that universality of
power which marks the Greek, has made his genius as
distinguished here for sculpture as it was in Palmyra
for military defence and architecture. Who for perfection
in this art of arts is to be compared with the Greek?
or for any work of either the head or the hands, that
implies the possession of what we mean by genius?
The Greeks have not only originated all that we know
of great and beautiful in letters, philosophy and the arts;
but what they have originated they have also perfected.
Whatever they have touched they have finished, at least

so far as art and the manner of working is concerned.
The depths of all wisdom and philosophy they have not
sounded indeed, though they have gone deeper than any,
only because they are in their own essence unfathomable.
Time as it flows on bears us to new regions to be
explored, whose riches constantly add new stores to our
wisdom, and open new views to philosophy. But in all
art they have reached a point beyond which none have
since advanced, and beyond which it hardly seems possible
to go. A doric column, a doric temple, a corinthian
capital, a corinthian temple — these perfectly satisfy
and fill the mind; and for seven hundred years no
change nor addition has been made or attempted that has
not been felt to be an injury. And I doubt not that
seven thousand years hence, if time could but spare it
so long, pilgrims would still go in search of the beautiful
from the remotest parts of the world, from parts now
unknown, to worship before the Parthenon, and, may I
not add, the Temple of the Sun in Palmyra!

Periander has gained new honors by this admirable
piece of work. I had hardly commenced my examination
of it, when a grating voice at my elbow, and never
once heard to be mistaken for any other, croaked out
what was meant as a challenge,

`The greatest captain of this or any age.'

It was Spurius, a man whom no slight can chill, nor
even an insult cause to abate the least of his intrusive
familiarity — a familiarity which he covets too only for
the sake of disputation and satire. To me however he
is never other than a source of amusement. He is a
variety of the species I love occasionally to study.

I told him I was observing the workmanship, without
thinking of the man represented.

`If you will allow me to say it,' he rejoined, `a very
inferior subject of contemplation. A statue, as I take
it, the thing for which it is made, is commemoration.
If one wants to see fine work in marble, there is the
cornice for him just overhead: or in brass, let him look
at the doors of the new temple, or the last table or couch
of Syphax. The proper subject for man is man.'

`Well, Spurius, on your own ground then. In this
brass I do not see brass, nor yet Aurelian —'

`What then, in the name of Hecate?'

`Nothing but intellect. The mind, the soul of the
greater artist, Periander. That drapery never fell so
upon Aurelian; nor was Aurelian's form or bearing
ever like this. It is all ennobled, and exalted above pure
nature, by the divine power of genius. The true artist,
under every form and every line of nature, sees another
form and line of more perfect grace and beauty, which
he chooses instead, and makes it visible and permanent
in stone or brass. You see nothing in me, but merely
Piso as he walks the streets. Periander sees another
within, bearing no more resemblance to me — yet as
much — than does this to Aurelian.'

`That I simply conceive to be so much sophistry,' rejoined
the poet, `which no man would be guilty of, except
he had been for the very purpose, as one must
think, of degrading his intellect, to the Athenian schools.
Still, as I said and think, the statue is made to commemorate
the man represented, not the artist.'

`It is made for that. But oftentimes the very name
of the man commemorated is lost, while that of the artist

lives forever. In my judgment there is as much of
Periander in this statue as there is of Aurelian.'

`I know not what the fame of this great Periander
may be ages hence. It has not till now reached my
ear.'

`It is not easy to reach the ears of some who dwell
in the via cœli.' I could not help saying that.

`My rooms, sir, I would inform you,' he rejoined
sharply, `are on the third floor.'

`Then I do wonder you should not have heard of
Periander.'

`Greater than Aurelian, and I must wonder too! A
poet may be greater than a general or an emperor, I
grant: he is one of the family of the gods; but how a
worker in brass or marble can be, passes my poor understanding.
It is vain to attempt to raise the mere
artist to the level of the historian or poet.'

`I think that too. I only said he was greater than
Aurelian —'

`Than Aurelian,' replied Spurius, `who has extended
the bounds of the empire!'

`But narrowed those of human happiness,' I answered.
`Which is of more consequence, empire or
man? But now, man was the great object! I grant
you he is, and for that reason a man who, like an artist
of genius, adds to the innocent sources of human enjoyment,
is greater than the soldier and conqueror, whose
business is the annoyance and destruction of life. Aurelian
has slain hundreds of thousands. Periander
never injured a worm. He dwells in a calm and peaceful
world of his own, and his works are designed to infuse
the same spirit that fills himself into all who behold

them. You must confess the superior power of
art and the artist in this very figure. Who thinks of
conquest, blood, and death, as he looks upon these flowing
outlines, this calm, majestic form — upon that still
face? The artist here is the conqueror of the conqueror,
and makes him subserve his own purposes; purposes
of a higher nature than the mere soldier ever dreamed
of. No one can stand and contemplate this form, without
being made a lover of beauty rather than of blood
and death; and beauty is peace.'

`It must be impossible,' replied the sour spirit, `for
one who loves Palmyra better than his native Rome, to
see much merit in Aurelian. It is a common saying,
Piso is a Palmyrene. The report is current too that
Piso is about to turn author, and celebrate that great nation
in history.'

`I wish I were worthy to do so,' I answered, `I might
then refute certain statements in another quarter. Yet
events have already refuted them.'

`If my book,' replied Spurius, `be copied a thousand
times, the statements shall stand as they are. They are
founded upon indisputable evidence and philosophical
inferences.'

`But, Spurius, they are every one contradicted by the
late events.'

`No matter for that, if they were ever true they must
always be true. Reasoning is as strong as fact. I
found Palmyra a vulgar, upstart, provincial city; the
most distasteful of all spots on earth to a refined mind;
such I left it, and such I have shown it to the world.'

`Yet,' I urged, `if the Palmyrenes in the defence of
their country showed themselves a brave, daring, and

dangerous foe, as they certainly were magnanimous; if
so many facts and events prove this, and all Rome admits
it, it will seem like little else than malice for such pages
to circulate in your book. Besides, as to a thousand
other things I can prove you wrong.'

`Because I have but one eye, am I incapable of vision?
Am I to be reproached with my misfortunes?
One eye is the same as two; who sees two images except
he squint? I can describe that wain, loaded down
with wine casks drawn by four horses with scarlet trappings,
the driver with a sweeping Juno's favor in his
cap, as justly as you can. Who can see more?'

`I thought not, Spurius, of your misfortune, though I
must think two eyes better for seeing than one, but only
of favorable opportunities for observation. You were in
Palmyra from the ides of January to the nones of February,
and lived in a tavern. I have been there for
more than half a year, and dwelt among the citizens
themselves. I knew them in public and in private, and
saw them under all circumstances most favorable to a
just opinion, and I can affirm that a more discolored picture
of a people was never drawn than yours.'

`All the world,' said the creature, `knows that Spurius
is no flatterer. I have not only published travels among
the Palmyrenes, but I intend to publish a poem also —
yes, a satire — and if it should be entitled “Woman's
pride humbled,” or “The downfall of false greatness,”
or, “The gourd withered in a day,” or “Mushrooms not
oaks,” or “Ants not elephants,” what would there be
wonderful in it? — or if Romans should figure largely
in it, eh?'

`Nothing is less wonderful, Spurius, than the obstinacy
and tenaciousness of error.'

`Periander greater than Aurelian!' rejoined he, moving
off; `that is a good thing for the town.'

As I turned, intending to visit the shop of Demetrius,
to see what progress he was making in his silver
Apollo, I was accosted by the consul Marcellinus.

`A fair morning to you, Piso,' said he; `and I see
you need the salutation and the wish, for a black cloud
has just drifted from you, and you must still feel as if
under the shadow. Half the length of the street, as I
slowly approached, have I witnessed your earnest discourse
with one whom I now see to have been Spurius.
But I trust your Christian principles are not about to
make an agrarian of you? Whence this sudden intimacy
with one like Spurius?'

`One need not, I suppose, be set down as a lover of
an east wind because they both sometimes take the
same road, and can scarcely separate if they would?
But to speak the truth, a man is to me a man, and I
never yet have met one of the race from whom I could
not gain either amusement, instruction or warning.
Spurius is better than a lecture from a philosopher, upon
the odiousness of prejudice. To any one inclined to harbor
prejudices would I recommend an hour's interview
with Spurius, sooner far than I would send him to
Cleanthes the Stoic, or Silius the Platonist, or, I had almost
said, Probus the Christian.'

`May I ask,' said he, `Piso, if you have in sober earnest
joined yourself to the community of the Christians,
or are you only dallying for a while with their doctrines,
just as our young men are this year infected by the

opinions of Cleanthes, the next followers of Silius, the
third of the nuisance Crito, and the fourth, adrift from
all, and the fifth, good defenders, if not believers, of the
popular superstitions? I presume I may believe that
such is the case with you. I trust so, for the times are
not favorable for the Christians, and I would like to
know that you were not of them.'

`I am however of them, heart and soul. I have been
a Christian ever since I first thoroughly comprehended
what it meant.'

`But how can it be possible that, standing as you do
at the head as it were of the nobility and wealth of
Rome, you can confound yourself with this obscure and
vulgar tribe? I know that some few of reputation are
with them beside yourself; but how few! Come, come,
disabuse yourself of this error and return to the old, safe,
and reputable side.'

`If mere fancy, Marcellinus, had carried me over to
the Christians, fancy or whim might bring me away
from them. But if it be, on the other hand, a question
of truth, then it is clear, fashion and respectability, and
even what is safest, or most expedient, are arguments
not to be so much as lisped.'

`No more, no more! I see how it is. You are fairly
gone from us. Nevertheless, though it may be thought
needful to check the growth of this sect, I shall hope
that your bark may sail safely along. But this reported
disappearance of Aurelia shows that danger is not far
off.'

`Do you then credit the rumor?'

`I can do no otherwise. It is in every part of the
town. I shall learn at the Capitol. I go to meet the
senate.'

`One moment: Is my judgment of the senate a right
one in this, that it would not second Aurelian in an attack
upon the privileges, property, or lives of the Christians?'

`I think it is. Although, as I know, there are but
few Christians in the body — how many you know
surely better than I — yet I am persuaded it would be
averse to acts of intolerance and persecution. Will you
not accompany me to the sitting?'

`Not so early. I am first bound elsewhere.'

You know, Fausta, that I avoid the senate. Being
no longer a senate, a Roman senate, but a mere gathering
of the flatterers of the reigning emperor, whoever
he may be, neither pleasure nor honor can come of their
company. There is one aspect however, at the present
moment, in which this body is to be contemplated with
interest. It is not, in matters of religion, a superstitious
body. Here it stands, between Aurelian with the populace
on his side, and the Christians, or whatever religious
body or sect there should be any design to oppress
or exterminate. It consists of the best and noblest, and
richest, of Rome; of those who have either imbibed their
opinions in philosophy and religion from the ancient philosophers
or their living representatives, or are indifferent
and neglectful of the whole subject; which is the more
common case. In either case they are as a body tolerant
of the various forms which religion or superstition
may assume. The only points of interest or inquiry
with them would be, whether any specified faith or ceremonies
tended to the injury of the state? whether they
affected to its damage the existing order of civil affairs?
These questions being answered favorably on the part

of the greater number, there would be no disposition to
interfere. Of Christianity, the common judgment in
that body, and among those in the capital who are of
the same general rank, is for the most part favorable.
It is commended for its modesty, for the quiet and unostentatious
manner in which its religious affairs are managed,
and for the humble diligence with which it concerns
itself with the common people and the poor,
teaching them their truths, whatever they may be, and
especially ministering so largely to their outward necessities.
I am persuaded, any decision of the senate concerning
the Christians would be indulgent and paternal,
and that it would in opinion and feeling be opposed
to any violence whatever on the part of Aurelian.
But then, alas! it is little that they can do with even
the best purposes. The emperor is absolute — the only
power, in truth, in the state. The senate exists but
in name and form. It has even less independent
power than that of Palmyra had under Zenobia.
Yours indeed was dependent through affection and trust,
reposing in a higher wisdom than its own. This,
through fear and the spirit of flattery. So many members
too were added, after the murderous thinning of its
seats in the affair of the mint, that now scarce a voice
would be raised in open opposition to any course the
emperor might adopt. The new members being moreover
of newer families, nearer the people, are less inclined
than the others to resist any of his measures.
Still it is most evident, that there is an under current of
ill-will, opposition, jealousy, distrust, running through
the body, which, if the opportunity should present itself
and there were courage enough for the work, may show
itself and make itself felt and respected. The senate, in
a word, though slavish and subservient, is not friendly.

But I am detaining you from the company of Demetrius,
of which you were always fond. I soon reached
his rich establishment, and being assured that he of Palmyra
was within, I entered. I was carried through
many apartments, filled with those who were engaged in
some one of the branches of this beautiful art, to that
which was sacred to the labors of the two brothers, who
are employed solely in the invention of the designs of
their several works, in drawing the plans, in preparing
the models, and then of overseeing the younger artists at
their tasks, themselves performing all the higher and
more difficult parts and processes of their art. Demetrius
was working alone at his statue; the room, in
which he was, being filled either with antiquities in
brass, ivory, silver, or gold, or with finished specimens
of their own skill, all disposed with the utmost taste and
with all the advantages to be derived from the architecture
of the room, from a soft and mellowed light, resembling
moonlight, which came through alabaster windows,
and from the rich cloths, silks, and other stuffs,
and the highly ornamented cases in which various articles
of greatest perfection and value were kept and exhibited.
Here stood the enthusiast, applying himself so
intently to his task, that he neither heard the door of the
apartment as it opened, nor the voice of the slave who
announced my name. But in a moment, as he suddenly
retreated to a dark recess to observe from that
point the effect of his touches as he proceeded, he saw
me, and cried out,

`Most glad to greet you here, Piso; your judgment
is at this very point what I shall be thankful for. Here,

if it please you, move to the very spot in which I now
am in, and tell me especially this, whether the finger of
the right hand should not be turned a line farther toward
the left of the figure. The metal is obstinate, but
still it can be bent if necessary. Now judge, and speak
your judgment frankly, for my sake.'

I sank back into the recess as desired, and considered
attentively the whole form, rough now and from the
moulds, and receiving the first finishing touches from
the rasp and the chisel. I studied it long and at my
leisure, Demetrius employing himself busily about
some other matters. It is a beautiful and noble figure,
worthy any artist's reputation of any age, and of a
place in the magnificent temple for which it is designed.
So I assured Demetrius, giving him at length my opinion
upon every part. I ended with telling him I did
not believe that any effect would be gained by altering
the present direction of the finger. It had come perfect
from the moulds.

`Is that your honest judgment, Piso? Christians,
they say, ever speak the exact truth. Fifty times have
I gone where you now are to determine the point. My
brother says it is right. But I cannot tell. I have attempted
the work in too much haste; but Aurelian
thinks, I believe, that a silver man may be made as
easily as a flesh one may be unmade. Rome is not
Palmyra, Piso. What a life there for an artist! Calm
as a summer sea. Here! by all the gods and goddesses!
if one hears of anything but of blood and death!
Heads all on where they should be to-day, to-morrow
are off. To-day, captives cut up on the altars of some
accursed god, and to-morrow thrown to some savage
beast no better and no worse for the entertainment of

savages worse than either or all. The very boys in the
streets talk of little else than of murderous sports of gladiators
or wild animals. I swear to you, a man can
scarce collect or keep his thoughts here. What's this
about the Christians too? I marvel, Piso, to see you
here with your head on! They say you are to be all
cut up root and branch. Take my advice, and fly with
me back to Palmyra! Not another half year would I
pass among these barbarians for all the patronage of the
emperor, his minions, and the senate at their back.
What say you?'

`No, Demetrius, I cannot go; but I should not blame
you for going. Rome is no place, I agree with you, for
the life contemplative, or for the pure and innocent labors
of art. It is the spot for intense action; but —'

`Suffering you mean —'

`That too, most assuredly, but of action too. It is the
great heart of the world.'

`Black as Erebus and night.'

`Yes, but still a great one, and which, if it can be
once made to beat true, will send its blood then a pure
and life-giving current to the remotest extremities of the
world, which is its body. I hope for the time to come
when this will be true. There is more goodness in
Rome, Demetrius, than you have heard of or know of.
There is a people here worth saving: I, with the other
Christians, am set to this work. We must not abandon
it.'

`'T will be small comfort though, should you all perish
doing it.'

`Our perishing might be but the means of new and
greater multitudes springing up to finish what we had

begun, but left incomplete. There is great life in death.
Blood spilled upon the ground is a kind of seed that
comes up men. Truth is not extinguished by putting
out life. It then seems to shine the more brightly as if
the more to cheer and comfort those who are suffering
and dying for it.'

`That may be or may not,' said the artist, `here and
there; but, in my judgment, if this man-slayer, this
world-butcher once fastens his clutches upon your tribe
he will leave none to write your story. How many
were left in Palmyra? — Just, Piso, resume your point of
observation, and judge whether this fold of the drapery
were better as it is, or joined to the one under it, an alteration
easily made.'

I gave him my opinion, and he went on filing and
talking.

`And now, Piso, if I must tell you, I have conceived
a liking for you Christians, and it is for this reason
partly I would have you set about to escape the evil that
is threatened at least. Here is my brother, whose equal
the world does not hold, is become a Christian. Then
do you know here is a family, just in the rear of our
shop, of one Macer, a Christian and a preacher, that has
won upon us strangely. I see much of them. Some
of his boys are in a room below, helping on by their
labor the support of their mother and those who are
younger, for I trow Macer himself does little for them,
whatever he may be doing for the world at large, or its
great heart as you call it. But what is more still,' cried
he with emphasis and a jump at the same moment,
throwing down his tools, `do you know the Christians
have some sense of what is good in our way? they

aspire to the elegant as well as others who are in better
esteem.'

And as he finished, he threw open the doors of a
small cabinet, and displayed a row of dishes, cups, and
pitchers, of elegant form and workmanship.

`These,' he went on, `are for the church of Felix the
bishop of the Christians. What they do with them I
know not, but as I was told by the bishop, they have a
table or altar of marble on which at certain times they are
arranged for some religious rite or other. They are not
of gold, as they seem, but of silver gilded. My brother
furnished the designs and put them into the hands of
Flaccus, who wrought them. Neither I nor my brother
could labor at them, as you may believe, but it shows a
good ambition in the Christians to try for the first skill
in Rome or the world, — does it not? They are a
promising people.'

Saying which he closed the doors and flew to his
work again.

At the same moment the door of the apartment
opened, and the brother Demetrius entered accompanied
by Probus. When our greetings were over, Probus
said, continuing as it seemed a conversation just broken
off,

`I did all I could to prevent it, but the voice of numbers
was against me, and of authority too, and both together
they prevailed. You, I believe, stood neuter, or
indeed I may suppose knew nothing about the difference?'

`As you suppose,' replied the elder Demetrius, `I
knew nothing of it, but designed the work and have
completed it. Here it is.' And going to the same cabinet,

again opened the doors and displayed the contents.
Probus surveyed them with a melancholy air, saying,
as he did so,

`I could bear that the vessels used for the purpose to
which these are destined should be made of gold, or
even of diamond itself, could mines be found to furnish
it, and skill to hollow it out. For the wine which these
shall hold is that which, in the way of symbol, shadows
forth the blood of Christ which, by being shed on the
cross, purchased for us this truth, this faith, and hope,
from which we derive so much happiness, and which
are to be an inheritance of happiness infinitely better
and more complete than that which we enjoy in these
days of fear, to the world through all ages. What
should be set out with every form of human honor and
decoration, if not this?'

`I think so,' replied Demetrius; `to that which we
honor and reverence in our hearts we must add the outward
sign and testimony, especially if we would affect
in the same way that ours are the minds of others. Paganism
understands this; and it is the pomp and magnificence
of her ceremony, the richness of the temple
service, the grandeur of her architecture, and the imposing
array of her priests in their robes, ministering at
the altars or passing through the streets in gorgeous
procession, with banners, victims, garlands, and music,
by which the populace are gained and kept. That must
be excellent and highly to be esteemed, they say, on
which the great, the learned, and the rich, above all the
state itself, are so prompt to lavish so much splendor
and wealth.'

`But here is a great danger,' Probus replied. `This

carried too far may convert religion into show and ostentation.
Form and ceremony, and all that is merely outward
and material, may take the place of the moral and
spiritual. Religion may come to be a thing apart by itself,
a great act, a tremendous and awful rite, a magnificent
and imposing ceremony, instead of what it is in
itself, simply a principle of right action toward man and
toward God. This is at present just the character and
position of the Roman religion. It is a thing that is to
be seen at the temples, but nowhere else; it is a worship
through sacrifices and prayers, and that is all. The worshipper
at the temple may be a tyrant at home, a profligate
in the city, a bad man everywhere, and yet none
the less a true worshipper. May God save the religion
of Christ from such corruption! Yet is the beginning
to be discerned. A decline has already begun. Rank
and power are already sought with an insane ambition,
and to perpetuate and render more imposing the power,
the same means are resorted to by Christian ministers
that have been by Roman emperors. The people are
dazzled by state and show, and so blinded to the encroachments
made upon their liberty. Some too, with
a less criminal motive, but with an aim quite as mistaken,
seek to transfer to Christianity the same outward
splendor and the same gilded trappings which they see
so to subdue the imagination — and by that lead them
captive — of the common people. Hence, Piso and Demetrius,
the golden chair of Felix, and his robes of audience,
on which there is more gold as I believe than
would gild all these cups and pitchers; hence too the
finery of the table, the picture behind it, and, in some
churches the statues of Christ and of Paul and Peter.
These golden vessels for the supper of Christ's love, I
can forgive — I can welcome them — but in the rest
that has come and is coming, I see signs of danger.'

`But, most excellent Probus,' said the younger Demetrius,
`I like not to hear the arts assailed and represented
dangerous, and I like your way the less for what
you have now said. I have just been telling Piso, that
you are a people to be respected, for you were beginning
to honor the arts. But here now have you just
denounced them. What harm could it do any good
man among you to come and look at this figure of
Apollo, or a statue of your Paul or Peter, as you name
them — supposing they were just men and benefactors
of their race?'

`There ought to be none,' Probus replied. `It ought
to be a source of innocent pleasure, if not of wholesome
instruction, to gaze upon the imitated form of a good
man — of a reformer, a benefactor, a prophet. But man
is so prone to religion, that you can scarce place before
him an object of reverence but he will straightway worship
it. What were your gods but once men, first revered,
then worshipped, and now their stone images
deemed to be the very gods themselves? Thus the
original and natural idea of one supreme Deity has been
almost lost out of the world. Let the figure of Christ
be everywhere set before the people, and what with the
natural tendency of the mind, and what with the force
of example in the common religion, I fear it would not
be long before he, whom we now revere as a prophet,
would be worshipped as a god; and the disciples whom
you have named, soon in like manner, would no longer
be remembered with gratitude and affection as those who

devoted their lives to the service of their fellow-men,
but adored superstitiously as inferior Deities, like your
Castor and Pollux. I can conceive that in the lapse of
ages men shall be so redeemed from the gross conceptions
that now inthrall them concerning both God and
his worship, and so nourished up to a divine strength
by the power of truth, that they shall be in no danger
from such sources, but shall reap all the pleasure and
advantage which can be derived either from beautiful
forms of art and the representation of great and excellent
characters, without ever dreaming that any other
than the infinite and invisible Spirit of the universe is
to be worshipped, or held divine. The religion of Christ
will itself, if aught can do it, bring about such a period.'

`That then will be the time for artists to live, next
after now,' said Demetrius of Palmyra. `In the meantime,
Probus, if Hellenism should decline and die, and
your strict faith take its place, art will decline and perish.
We live chiefly by the gods and their worship.'

`If our religion,' replied Probus, `should suffer injury
from its own professors, in the way it has, for a century
or two more, it will give occupation enough to artists.
Its corruptions will do the same for you that the reign of
absolute and perfect truth would.'

`The gods then grant that the corruptions you speak
of may come in season, before I die. I am tired of Jupiters,
Mercuries, and Apollos. I have a great fancy to
make a statue of Christ. Brother! what think you,
should I reach it? Most excellent Probus, should I
make you such an one for your private apartments I do
not believe you would worship it, and doubtless it would
afford you pleasure. If you will leave a commission for

such a work, it shall be set about so soon as this god of
the emperor's is safe on his pedestal. What think
you?'

`I should judge you took me, Demetrius, for the priest
of a temple, or a noble of the land. The price of such
a piece of sculpture would swallow up more than all I
am worth. Besides, though I might not worship myself
— though I say not but I might — I should give an
ill example to others, who, if they furnished themselves
or their churches with similar forms, might not have
power over themselves, but relapse into the idolatry
from which they are but just escaped.'

`All religions, as to their doctrine and precept, are
alike to me,' replied Demetrius, `only as a general principle
I should ever prefer that which had the most gods.
Rome shows excellent judgment in adopting all the gods
of the earth, so that if the worship of one god will not
bring prosperity to the nation, there are others in plenty
to try their fortune with again. Never doubt, brother,
that it is because you Christians have no gods, that the
populace and others are so hostile to you. Only set up
a few images of Christ, and some of the other founders
of the religion, and your peace will be made. Otherwise
I fear this man-killer will, like some vulture, pounce
upon you and tear you piecemeal. What, brother,
have you learned of Aurelia?'

`Nothing with certainty. I could find only a confirmation
from every mouth, but based on no certain
knowledge, of the rumor that reached us early in the
morning. But what is so universally reported, generally
turns out true. I should however, if I believed the
fact of her imprisonment, doubt the cause. I said that

I could conceive of no other cause, and feared that
if the fact were so, the religion of Aurelian was the
reason of her being so dealt with. It was like Aurelian,
if he had resolved upon oppressing the Christians
to any extent whatever, that he should begin with
those who were nearest to him; first with his own
blood, and then with those of his household.'

With this and such like conversation I passed a
pleasant hour at the rooms of Demetrius.

My wish was, as I turned from the apartments of Demetrius,
to seek the emperor or Livia, and learn from
them the exact truth concerning the reports current
through the city. But giving way to that weakness
which defers to the latest possible moment the confirmation
of painful news and the resolution of doubts which
one would rather should remain as doubts than be determined
in the wrong way, in melancholy mood I
turned and retraced my steps. My melancholy was
changed to serious apprehension by all that I observed
and heard on my way to the Cœlian. As the crowd in
this great avenue, the Suburra, pressed by me, it was
easy to gather that the Christians had become the universal
topic of conversation and dispute. The name of
the unhappy Aurelia frequently caught my ear. Threatening
and ferocious language dropt from many, who
seemed glad that at length an emperor had arisen who
would prove faithful to the institutions of the country.
I joined a little group of gazers before the window of
the rooms of Periander, at which something rare and
beautiful is always to be seen, and who I found were
looking intently at a picture, apparently just from the
hands of the artist, which represented Rome under the

form of a beautiful woman — Livia had served as the
model — with a diadem upon her head, and the badges
of kingly authority in her hands, and at her side a
priest of the Temple of Jupiter, “Greatest and Best,”
in whose face and form might plainly be traced the
cruel features of Fronto. The world was around
them. On the lowest earth, with dark shadows settling
over them, lay scattered and broken, in dishonor
and dust, the emblems of all the religions of
the world, their temples fallen and in ruins. Among
them, in the front ground of the picture, was the
prostrate cross, shattered as if dashed from the church
whose dilapidated walls and wide-spread fragments
bore testimony not so much to the wasting power of
time as to the rude hand of popular violence; while
rearing themselves up into a higher atmosphere the
temples of the gods of Rome stood beautiful and perfect,
bathed in the glowing light of a morning sun.
The allegory was plain and obvious enough. There
was little attractive save the wonderful art with which
it was done. This riveted the eye; and that being
gained, the bitter and triumphant bigotry of the
ideas set forth had time to make its way into the heart
of the beholder, and help to change its warm blood to
gall. Who but must be won by the form and countenance
of the beautiful Livia? and confounding Rome
with her, be inspired with a new devotion to his country,
and its religion, and its lovely queen? The work was
inflaming and insidious, as it was beautiful. This was
seen in what it drew from those among whom I stood.

`By Jupiter!' said one, `that is well done. They
are all down, who can deny it! Those are ruins not to
be built up again. Who knows who the artist is? He

must be a Roman to the last drop of his blood and the
least hair of his beard.'

`His name is Sporus,' replied his companion, `as I
hear, a kinsman of Fronto the priest of Apollo.'

`Ah, that 's the reason the priest figures here,' cried
the first, `and the empress too; for they say nobody is
more at the Gardens than Fronto. Well, he 's just the
man for his place. If any man can bring up the temples
again, it 's he. Religion is no sham at the Temple
of the Sun. The priests are all what they pretend to
to be. Let others do so, and we shall have as much
reason to thank the emperor for what he has done for
the gods — and so for us all — as for what he has done
for the army, the empire, and the city.'

`You say well. He is for once a man who, if he
will, may make Rome what she was before the empire,
a people that honored the gods. And this picture seems
as if it spoke out his very plans, and I should not wonder
if it were so.'

`Never doubt it. See, here lies a Temple of Isis flat
enough; next to it one of the accursed tribe of Jews,
and what ruder pile is that?'

`That must be a temple of the British worship, as I
think. But the best of all is this Christian church: see
how the wretches fly while the work goes on! In my
notion, this paints what we may soon see.'

`I believe it. The gods grant it so! Old men, in my
judgment, will live to see it all acted out. Do you hear
what is said? That Aurelian has put to death his own
niece, the princess Aurelia?'

`That 's likely enough,' said another, `no one can
doubt it. 'T is easy news to believe in Rome. But the
question is, what for?'

`No doubt for her impiety, and her aims to convert
Mucapor to her own ways.'

`Well, there is no telling, and it 's no great matter;
time will show. Meanwhile, Aurelian forever! He 's
the man for me!'

`Truly is he,' said one at his side who had not spoken
before, `for thy life is spent at the amphitheatres, and
he is a good caterer for thee, sending in ample supplies
of lions and men.'

`Whew! who is here? Take care! Your tongue,
old man, has short space to wag in.'

`I am no Christian, knave, but I trust I am a man:
and that is more than any can say of you, that know
you. Out upon you for a savage!'

The little crowd burst into loud laughter at this, and
with various abusive epithets moved away. The old
man addressed himself to me, who alone remained as
they withdrew, —

`Aurelian I believe would do well enough were he
let alone. He is inclined to cruelty I know: but nobody
can deny that, cruel or not, he has wrought most beneficial
changes both in the army and in the city. He has
been in some sort, up to within the last half year, a censor
greater than Valerian; a reformer, greater and bettor
than even he. Had he not been crazed by his successes
in the East, and were he not now led, and driven,
and maddened, by the whole priesthood of Rome, with
the hell-born Fronto at their head, we might look for a
new Rome. But as it is, I fear these young savages
who are just gone will see all fulfilled they are praying
for. A fair day to you.'

And he too turned away. Others were come into the

same spot, and for a long time did I listen to similar language.
Many came, looked, said nothing, and took their
way, with paler face, and head depressed, silent under
the imprecations heaped upon the atheists, but manifestly
either of their side in sympathy, or else of the
very atheists themselves. I now sought my home, tired
of the streets, of all I had seen and heard. Many of
my acquaintance and friends passed me on the way, in
whose altered manner I could behold the same signs
which in ruder form I had just seen at the window of
Periander. Not, Fausta, that all my friends of the Roman
faith are summer ones, but that perhaps most are.
Many among them, though attached firmly as my
mother to the existing institutions, are yet like her possessed
of the common sentiments of humanity, and
would venture much or all to divert the merest shadow
of harm from my head. Among these I still pass some
of my pleasantest and most instructive hours — for with
them the various questions involved in the whole subject
of religion are discussed with the most perfect freedom
and mutual confidence. Varus the prefect, whom
I met among others, greeted me with unchanged courtesy.
His sweetest smile was on his countenance as he
swept by me, wishing me a happy day. How much
more tolerable is the rude aversion or loud reproaches
of those I have told you of, than this honied suavity,
that means nothing and would be still the same though
I were on the way to the block.

As I entered my library, Solon accosted me to say,
that there had been one lately there most urgent to see
me. From his account, I could suppose it to be none
other than the Jew Isaac, who, Milo has informed me,

is now returned to Rome, which he resorts to as his
most permanent home. Solon said that, though assured
I was not at home, he would not be kept back, but
pressed on into the house, saying that `these Roman
nobles often sat quietly in their grand halls, while they
were denied to their poor clients. Piso was an old acquaintance
of his when in Palmyra, and he had somewhat
of moment to communicate to him and must see
him.'

`No sooner,' said Solon, `had he got into the library,
the like of which I may safely affirm he had never seen
before, for his raiment betokened a poor and ragged life,
than he stood and gazed as much at his ease as if it had
been his own, and then, by Hercules! unbuttoning his
pack, for he was burdened with one both before and behind,
he threw his old limbs upon a couch and began to
survey the room! I could not but ask him, `If he were
the elder Piso, old Cneius Piso, come back from Persia,
in Persian beard and gown?'—`Old man,' said he, `your
brain is turned with many books, and the narrow life
you live here, shut out from the living world of man.
One man is worth all the books ever writ, save those of
Moses. Go out into the streets and read him, and your
senses will come again. Cneius Piso! Take you me
for a spirit? I am Isaac the Jew, citizen of the world,
and dealer in more rarities and valuables than you ever
saw or dreamed of. Shall I open my parcels for thee?'
`No,' said I, `I would not take thy poor gewgaws for a
gift. One worm-eaten book is worth them all.'—`God
restore thy reason!' said he, `and give thee wisdom before
thou diest; and that, by thy wrinkles and hairless
pate, must be soon.' What more of false he would have

added I know not, for at that moment he sprang from
where he sat like one suddenly mad, exclaiming `Holy
Abraham! what do my eyes behold, or do they lie?
Surely that is Moses! Never was he on Sinai, if his
image be not here! Happy Piso! and happy Isaac to
be the instrument of such grace! Who could have
thought it? And yet many a time in my dreams have
I beheld him with a beard like mine, his hat on his
head, his staff in his hand, as if standing at the table of
the Passover, the princess with him, and — dreams will
do such things — a brood of little chickens at their side.
And now — save the last — it is all come to pass. And
here too — who may this be? who but Aaron, the
younger and milder. He was the speaker, and lo! his
hand is stretched out! And this young Joseph is at his
knee the better to interpret his character to the beholder.
Moses and Aaron in the chief room of a Roman senator,
and he a Piso! Now, Isaac, thou mayest tie on thy
pack and take thy leave with a merry heart, for God if
never before now accepteth thy works.' And much
more, noble sir, in the same raving way, which was
more dark to my understanding than the darkest pages
of Aristotle.'

I gathered from Solon that he would return in the
evening in the hope to see me, for he had that to impart
which concerned nearly my welfare.

I was watching with Julia, from the portico which
fronts the Esquiline and overlooks the city, the last rays
of the declining sun, as they gilded the roofs and domes
of the vast sea of building before us, lingering last upon,
and turning to gold, the brazen statues of Antonine and
of Trajan, when Milo approached us, saying that Isaac
had returned. He was in a moment more with us.

`Most noble Piso,' said he, `I joy to see thee again;
and this morning I doubt not I should have seen thee
but for the obstinacy of an ancient man, whose wits
seem to have been left behind as he has gone onward.
I seek thee, Piso, for matters of moment. Great princess,'
he suddenly cried, turning to Julia with as profound
a reverence as his double burden would allow,
`glad am I to greet thee in Rome; not glad that thou
wert forced to flee here, but glad that if out of Palmyra
thou art here in the heart of all that can best
minister to thy wants. Not a wish can arise in the
heart but Rome can answer it. Nay, thou canst have
few for that which is rare and costly but even I can answer
them. Hast thou ever seen, princess, those diamonds
brought from the caves of mountains a thousand
miles in the heart of India, in which there lurks a tint,
if I may so name it, like this last blush of the western
sky? They are rarer than humanity in a Roman, or
apostacy in a Jew, or truth in a Christian. I shall show
thee one.' And he fell to unlacing his pack and drawing
forth its treasures.

Julia assured him she should see with pleasure whatever
he could show her of rich or rare.

`There are, lady, jewelers, as they name themselves
in Rome, who dwell in magnificent houses, and whose
shops are half the length of a street, who cannot show
you what Isaac can out of an old goatskin pack. And
how should they? Have they, as I have, traveled the
earth's surface and trafficked between crown and crown?
What king is there, whose necessities I have not relieved
by purchasing his useless gems; or whose vanity
I have not pleased by selling him the spoils of another?

Old Sapor, proud as he was, was more than once in
the grasp of Isaac. There! it is in this case — down,
you see, in the most secret part of my pack — but
who would look for wealth under this sordid covering?
as who, lady, for a soul within this shriveled and shattered
body? yet is there one there. In such outside,
both of body and bag, is my safety. Who cares to stop
the poor man, or hold parley with him? None so free
of the world and its high ways as he; safe alike in the
streets of Rome and on the deserts of Arabia. His rags
are a shield stouter than one of seven-fold bull's hide.
Never but in such guise could I bear such jewels
over the earth's surface. Here, lady, is the gem; never
has it yet pressed the finger of queen or subject. The
stone I brought from the East, and Demetrius here in
Rome hath added the gold. Give me so much pleasure
—'

And he placed it upon Julia's finger. It flashed a
light such as we never before saw in stone. It was evidently
a most rare and costly gem. It was of great size
and of a hue such as I had never before seen.

`This is a queen's ring, Isaac,' said Julia — `and for
none else.'

`It well becomes the daughter of a queen' — replied
the Jew, `and the wife of Piso — specially seeing that
— Ah, Piso! Piso! how was I overjoyed to-day to see
in thy room the evidence that my counsels had not been
thrown away. The Christian did not gain thee with all
his cunning.'

`Nay, Isaac' — I here interrupted him — `you must
not let your benevolent wishes lead you into error. I
am not yet a Jew. Those images that caught your eye
were not wholly such as you took them for.'

`Well, well,' said the philosophic Jew, `rumor then
has for once spoken the truth. She has long, as I learn,
reported thee Christian: but I believed it not. And to-day,
when I looked upon those statues, I pleased myself
with the thought that thou, and the princess like her
august mother, had joined yourselves to Israel. But if
it be not so, then have I an errand for thee, which but
now I hoped I might not be bound to deliver. Piso,
there is danger brewing for thee, and for all who hold
with thee!'

`So I hear, Isaac, on all sides and partly believe it.
But the rumor is far beyond the truth, I do not doubt.'

`I think not so,' said Isaac. `I believe the truth is
beyond the rumor. Aurelian intends more and worse
than he has spoken; and already has he dipt his hand
in blood!'

`What say you? how is it you mean?' said Julia.

`Whose name but Aurelia's has been in the city's
ears these many days? I can tell you, what is known
as yet not beyond the emperor's palace and the priest's,
Aurelia is dead!'

`Sport not with us, Isaac.'

`I tell you, Piso, the simple truth. Aurelia has paid
with her life for her faith. I know it from more than
one whose knowledge in the matter is good as sight.
It was in the dungeons of the Fabrician bridge that she
was dealt with by Fronto the priest of Apollo.'

`Aurelian then,' said Julia, `has thrust his sickle into
another field of slaughter, and will not draw it out till
he swims in Christian blood, as once before in Syrian.
God help these poor souls! What, Isaac, was the manner
of her death, if you have heard so much?'

`I have heard only,' replied Isaac, `that after long
endeavor on the part of Aurelian and the priest to draw
her from her faith while yet at the palace, she was conveyed
to the prisons I have named, and there given over
to Fronto and the executioners, with this only restriction,
that if neither threats, nor persuasions, nor the horrid
array of engines, could bend her, then should she be
beheaded without either scourging or torture. And so
it was done. She wept, 't is said, as it were without
ceasing, from the time she left the gardens; but to the
priest would answer never a word to all his threats,
entreaties, nor promises; except once, when that wicked
minister said to her, `that except she in reality and truth
would curse Christ and sacrifice, he would report that
she had done so, and so liberate her and return her to
the palace:' — at which, 't is said, that on the instant
her tears ceased, her eyes flashed lightning, and with a
voice, which took the terrific tones of Aurelian himself,
she said, `I dare thee to it, base priest! Aurelian is an
honorable man — though cruel as the grave — and my
simple word, which never yet he doubted, would weigh
more than oaths from thee, though piled to heaven!
Do thy worst then, quick!' Whereupon the priest white
with wrath, first sprang toward her as if he had been a
beast set to devour her, drawing at the same moment a
knife from his robes; but others being there he stopped,
and cried to the executioner to do his work — raving
that he had it not in his power first to torment her.
Aurelia was then instantly beheaded.'

We were silent as he ended, Julia dissolved in tears.
Isaac went on.

`This is great testimony, Piso, which is borne to thy

faith. A poor, weak girl, alone, with not one to look
on and encourage, in such a place, and in the clutches
of such a hard-hearted wretch — to die without once
yielding to her fears or the weakness of her tender nature
— it is a thing hardly to be believed, and full of pity.
Piso, thou wilt despise me when I say that my tribe rejoices
at this and laughs; that the Jew is seen carrying
the news from house to house, and secretly feeding on
it as a sweet morsel! And why should he not? Answer
me that, Roman! Answer me that, Christian!
In thee, Piso, and in every Roman like thee, there is
compacted into one the enmity that has both desolated
my country and — far as mortal arm may do so —
dragged down to the earth her altars and her worship.
Judea was once happy in her ancient faith; and happier
than all in that great hope inspired by our prophets
in endless line, of the advent in the opening ages of one
who should redeem our land from the oppressor, and
give to her the empire of the world. Messiah, for whom
we waited, and while we waited were content to bear
the insults and aggressions of the whole earth — knowing
the day of vengeance was not far off — was to be to
Judea more than Aurelian to Rome. He was to be our
prophet, our priest, and our king all in one; not man
only, but the favored and beloved of God, his Son; and
his empire was not to be like this of Rome, hemmed in
by this sea and that, hedged about by barbarians on this
side and another, bounded by rivers and hills, but was
to stretch over the habitable earth, and Rome itself to be
swallowed up in the great possession as a little island
in the sea. And then this great kingdom was never to
end. It could not be diminished by an enemy taking
from it this province and another, as with Rome, nor
could there be out of it any power whatever that could
assail it, for by the interference of God, through the
right arm of our great Prince, fear and the very spirit of
submission were to fall on every heart. All was to be
Judea's, and Judea's forever; the kingdom was to be
over the whole earth; and the reign forever and ever.
And in those ages peace was to be on the earth, and
universal love. God was to be worshipped by all according
to our law, and idolatry and error cease and
come to an end. In this hope, I say, we were happy,
in spite of all our vexations. In every heart in our
land, whatever sorrows or sufferings might betide, there
was a little corner where the spirit could retire and comfort
itself with this vision of futurity. Among all the
cities of our land, and far away among the rocks and vallies
by Jordan and the salt sea, and the mountains of Lebanon,
there were no others to be found than men, women,
and children, happy in this belief, and by it bound into
one band of lovers and friends. And what think you happened?
I need not tell you. There came, as thou
knowest, this false prophet of Gallilee, and beguiled the
people with his smooth words, and perverted the sense
of the prophets, and sowed difference and discord among
the people; and the cherished vision, upon which the
nation had lived and grown, fled like a dream. The
Gallilean impostor planted himself upon the soil, and his
roots of poison struck down, and his broad limbs shot
abroad, and half the nation was lost. Its unity was
gone, its peace was gone, its heart broken, its hope,
though living still, yet obscured and perplexed. Canst
thou wonder then, Piso, or thou, thou weeping princess,
that the Jew stands by and laughs when the Christian's
turn comes, and the oppressor is oppressed, the destroyer
destroyed? And when, Piso, the Christian had done
his worst, despoiling us of our faith, our hope, our prince
and our God; not satisfied, he brought the Roman upon
us, and despoiled us of our country itself. Now, and
for two centuries all has been gone. Judea, the beautiful
land, sits solitary and sad. Her sons and daughters
wanderers over the earth, and trodden into the dust.
When shall the light arise! and he, whom we yet look
for, come and turn back the flood that has swept over
us, and reverse the fortunes befallen to one and the
other? The chariot of God tarries; but it does not
halt. The wheels are turning, and when it is not
thought of, it will come rolling onward with the voice of
many thunders, and the great restorations shall be made,
and a just judgment be meted out to all. What wonder
I say then, Piso, if my people look on and laugh,
when this double enemy is in straits? when the Christian
and Roman, in one is caught in the snare and cannot
escape? That laugh will ring through the streets
of Rome, and will out-sound the roaring of the lions and
the shouts of the theatre. Nature is strong in man,
Piso, and I do not believe thou wilt think the worse of
our people, if bearing what they have, this nature should
break forth. Hate them not altogether, Roman, when
thou shalt see them busy at the engines or the stake, or
the theatres. Remember the cause! Remember the
cause! But we are not all such. I wish, Piso, thou
couldst abandon this faith. There will else be no safety
to thee I fear ere not many days. What has overtaken
the lady Aurelia, of the very family of the emperor, will
surely overtake others. Piso, I would fain serve thee if
I may. Though I hate the Roman, and the Christian,
and thee, as a Jew, yet so am I, that I cannot hate them
as a man, or not unto death; and thee do I love. Now
it is my counsel that thou do in season escape. Now
thou canst do it; wait but a few days and perhaps thou
canst no longer. What I say is, fly! and it were best
to the farthest east; first to Palmyra, and then, if need
be, to Persia. This, Piso, is what I am come for.'

`Isaac, this all agrees with the same goodness —'

`I am a poor, miserable wretch, whom God may forgive,
because his compassions never fail, but who has no
claim on his mercy, and will be content to sit hereafter
where he shall but just catch now and then a glimpse
of the righteous.'

`I must speak my thoughts, not yours, Isaac. This
all agrees with what we have known of you; and with
all our hearts you have our thanks. But we are bound
to this place by ties stronger than any that bind us to
life, and must not depart.'

`Say not so! Lady, speak! Why should ye remain
to add to the number that must fall? Rank will not
stand in the way of Aurelian.'

`That we know well, Isaac,' said Julia. `We should
not look for any shield such as that to protect us, nor
for any other. Life is not the chief thing, Isaac. What
is life without liberty? Would you live a slave? and
is not he the meanest slave, who bends his will to
another? who renounces the thoughts he dearly cherishes,
for another's humor? Who will beggar the soul
to save or serve the body?

`Alas, princess, I fear there is more courage in thee,

woman as thou art, than in this old frame! I love my
faith too, princess, and I labor for it in my way; but
may the God of Abraham spare me from the last trial!
And wouldst thou give up thy body to the tormentors
and the executioner, to keep the singleness of thy mind,
so that merely a few little thoughts, which no man can
see, may run in and out of it as they list?'

`Even so, Isaac.'

`It is wonderful,' exclaimed the Jew, `what a strength
there is in man! how for an opinion, which can be neither
bought nor sold, nor weighed, nor handled, nor
seen; a thing that, by the side of lands, and gold, and
houses, seems less than the dust of the balance, men and
women, yea, and little children, will suffer and die,
when a word too, which is but a little breath blown out
of the mouth, would save them!'

`But it is no longer wonderful,' said Julia, `when we
look at our whole selves, and not only at one part. We
are all double, one part of earth, another of heaven;
one part gross body, the other etherial spirit; one part
life of the body, the other life of the soul. Which of
these parts is the better, it is not hard to determine.
Should I gain much by defiling the heavenly, for the
sake of the earthly? by injuring the mind for the
preservation of the body; by keeping longer the life I
live now, and darkening over the prospect of the life that
is hereafter? If I possess a single truth, which I firmly
believe to be a truth, I cannot say that it is a lie, for the
sake of some present benefit or deliverance, without fixing
a stain thereby, not on the body which by and by
perishes, but on the soul which is immortal; and which
should forever bear about with it the unsightly spot.

`It is so; it is as you say, lady; and rarely has the
Jew been known to deny his name and his faith. Since
you have spoken, I find thoughts called up which have
long slept. Despise me not, for my proposal, yet I
would there were a way of escape! Flight now would
not be denial nor apostacy?'

`It would not,' said I. `And we may not judge with
harshness those whose human courage fails them under
the apprehension of the horrible sufferings which often
await the persecuted. But with my convictions, and
Piso's, the guilt and baseness of flight or concealment
would be little less than that of denial or apostacy.
We have chosen this religion for its divine truth and its
immortal prospects; we believe it a good which God has
sent to us; we believe it the most valuable possession
we hold; we believe it essential to the world's improvement
and happiness. Believing it thus, we must stand
by it; and if it come to this — as I trust in Heaven it
will not, notwithstanding the darkness of the portents —
that our regard for it will be questioned except we die
for it — then we will die.'

Isaac rose and began to fasten on his pack. As he
did so, he said,

`Excellent lady, I grieve that thou shouldst be
brought from thy far home, and those warm and sunny
skies, to meet the rude shocks of this wintry land. It
was enough to see what thou didst there, and to know
what befell thy ancient friends. The ways of Providence
to our eyes are darker than the Egyptian night,
brought upon that land by the hand of Moses. It is
darkness solid and impenetrable. The mole sees farther
toward the earth's centre, than does my dim eye

into the judgments of God. And what wonder? when
he is God looking down upon earth and man's ways as
I upon an ant-hill, and seeing all at once. To such
an eye, lady, that may be best which to mine is
worst.'

`I believe it is often so, Isaac,' replied Julia. `Just
as in nauseous drugs or rankest poisons there is hidden
away medicinal virtue, so is there spiritual balm for the
soul by which its worst diseases are healed and its
highest health promoted, in sufferings which, as they
first fall upon us, we lament as unmitigated evil. I
know of no state of mind so proper to beings like us,
as that indicated by a saying of Christ, which I shall repeat
to you, though you honor not its source, and which
seems to me to comprehend all religion and philosophy,
“Not my will, but thine, O God, be done!” We never
take our true position, and so never can be contented
and happy till we renounce our own will, and believe
all the whole providence of God to be wisest and best,
simply because it is his. Should I dare, were the
power this moment given me, to strike out for myself
my path in life, arrange its events, fix my lot? Not
the most trivial incident can be named that I should
not tremble to order otherwise than as it happens.'

`There is wisdom, princess, in the maxim of thy
prophet, and its spirit is found in many of the sayings of
truer prophets who went before him, and whose words
are familiar to thy royal mother, though I fear they are
not to thee; a misfortune wholly to be traced to that
misadventure of thine, Piso, in being thrown into the
company of the Christian Probus on board the Mediterranean
trader. Had I been alone with thee on that

voyage, who can say that thou wouldst not now have
been what but this morning I took thee for, as I looked
upon those marble figures?'

`But, Isaac, forget not your own principles,' said Julia.
`May you who cannot, as you have said, see the end
from the beginning, and whose sight is but a mole's,
dare to complain of the providence which threw Piso
into the society of the Christian Probus? I am sure you
would not, on reflection, re-arrange those events, were
it now permitted you. And seeing, Isaac, how much
better things are ordered by the Deity than we could do
it, and how we should choose voluntarily to surrender
all into his hands, whose wisdom is so much more perfect,
and whose power is so much more vast, than ours,
ought we not, as a necessary consequence of this, to acquiesce
in events without complaint, when they have
once occurred? If Providence has made both Piso and
Probus Christians, then ought you not to complain, but
acquiesce; and more than that, revere the Providence
that has done it, and love those none the less whom it
has directed into the path in which it would have them
go. True piety is the mother of charity.'

`Princess,' rejoined Isaac, `you are right. The true
love of God cannot exist without making us true lovers
of man; and Piso I do love, and think none the worse
of him for his Christian name. But touching Probus
and others I experience some difficulty. Yet may I
perhaps escape thus — I may love them as men, yet
hate them as Christians; just as I would bind up the
wounds of a thief or an assassin whom I found by the
wayside, and yet the next hour bear witness against
him, and without compunction behold him swinging

upon the gibbet! It is hard, lady, for the Jew to love a
Christian and a Roman. — But how have I been led
away from what I wished chiefly to say before departing!
When I spake just now of the darkness of Providence,
I was thinking, Piso, of my journey across the
desert for thy Persian brother Calpurnius. That, as I
then said to thee, was dark to me. I could not comprehend
how it should come to pass that I, a Jew, of no
less zeal than Simon Ben Gorah himself, should tempt
such dangers in the service of thee, a Roman and half a
Christian.'

`And is the enigma solved at length?' asked Julia.
`I could have interpreted it by saying that the merit of
doing a benevolent action was its solution.'

`That was little or nothing, princess. But I confess
to thee that the two gold talents of Jerusalem were
much. Still neither they, nor what profit I made in
the streets of Ecbatana, and even out of that new Solomon
the hospitable Levi, clearly explained the riddle.
I have been in darkness till of late. And how think
you the darkness has been dispersed?'

`We cannot tell.'

`I believe not. Piso! princess! I am the happiest
man in Rome.'

`Not happier, Isaac, than Civilis the perfumer.'

`Name him not, Piso. Of all the men — he is no
man — of all the living things in Rome I hold him
meanest. Him, Piso, I hate. Why, I will not tell thee,
but thou mayest guess. Nay, not now. I would have
thee first know why I am the happiest man in Rome.
Remember you the woman and the child, whom in the
midst of that burning desert we found sitting more dead

than alive at the roots of a cedar? the wife, as we afterwards
found, of Hassan the camel-driver; and how that
child, the living resemblance of my dead Joseph, wound
itself round my heart, and how I implored the mother
to trust it to me as mine and I would make it richer
than the richest of Ecbatana?'

`We remember it all well.'

`Well, rejoice with me! Hassan is dead!'

`Rejoice in her husband's death? Nay, that we cannot
do. Milo will rejoice with thee.'

`Rejoice with me then that Hassan, being dead by the
providence of God, Hagar and Ishmael are now mine!'
— and the Jew threw down his pack again in the excess
of his joy, and strode wildly about the portico.

`This is something indeed,' said Julia. `Now we
can rejoice sincerely with you. But how happened all
this? When and how have you obtained the news?'

`Hassan,' replied Isaac, `as Providence willed it, died
in Palmyra. His disconsolate widow, hearing of his
death, in her poverty and affliction bethought herself of
me, and applied for intelligence of me to Levi; from
whom a letter came, saying that Hagar had made now
on her part the proposal that had once been made on
mine — that Ishmael should be mine provided he was
not to be separated from his mother and a sister older
than he by four years. I indeed proposed not for the
woman, but for the child only — nor for the sister. But
they will all be welcome. They must by this be in
Palmyra on their way to Rome. Yes, they will be all
welcome! for now once more shall the pleasant bonds
of a home hold me, and the sounds of children's voices
sweeter to my ear than will ever be the harps of angels

though Gabriel sweep the strings. Already in the street
Janus, where our tribe most resort, have I purchased me
a house; not, Roman, such a one as I dwelt in in Palmyra,
where thou and thy foolish slave searched me
out, but large and well-ordered, abounding with all that
woman's heart could most desire. And now what think
you of all this? whither tends it? to what leads all this
long and costly preparation? what think you is to come
of it? I have my own judgment. This I know, it cannot
be all for this, that a little child of a few years should
come and dwell with an old man little removed from
the very borders of the grave! Had it been only for
this, so large and long a train of strange and wild events
would not have been laid. This child, Piso, is more
than he seems! take that and treasure it up. It is to
this the finger of God has all along pointed. He is
more than he seems! What he will be I say not, but I
can dimly — nay clearly guess. And his mother! Piso,
what will you think when I say that she is a Jewess!
and his father — what will you think when I tell you
that he was born upon the banks of the Gallilean lake?
that misfortunes and the love of a wandering life drew
him from Judea to the farther East, and to a temporary
and but apparent apostacy, I am persuaded, from his
proper faith? This to me is all wonderful. Never
have I doubted, that by my hand, by me as a mediator
some great good was to accrue to Jerusalem. And now
the clouds divide, and my eye sees what has been so
long concealed. It shall all come to pass, before thy
young frame, princess, shall be touched by years.'

`We wish you all happiness and joy, Isaac,' replied
Julia; `and soon as this young family shall have

reached your dwelling, we shall trust to see them all,
specially this young object of thy great expectations.'

Isaac again fastened on his pack, and taking leave of
us turned to depart, but ere he did so, he paused — fixed
his dark eyes upon us — hesitated — and then said,

`Lady, if trouble flow in upon you here in Rome, and
thou wilt not fly as I have counseled to Palmyra; but
thou shouldst by and by change thy mind and desire
safety, or Piso should wish thee safe — perhaps that
by thy life thou mightest work more mightily for thy
faith than thou couldst do by thy death — for oftentimes
it is not by dying that we best serve God, but by
living — then bethink thee of my dwelling in the street
Janus, where, if thou shouldst once come, I would challenge
all the blood-hounds in Rome, and what is more
and worse, Fronto and Varus leagued, to find thee.
Peace be with you.'

And so saying, he quickly parted from us.

All Rome, Fausta, holds not a man of a larger heart
than Isaac the Jew. For us, Christians as we are,
there is I believe no evil to himself he would not hazard,
if in no other way he could shield us from the dangers
that impend. In his conscience he feels bound to
hate us, and often from the language he uses it might
be inferred that he does so. But in any serious expression
of his feelings his human affections ever obtain the
victory over the obligations of hatred which his love of
country as he thinks imposes upon him, and it would
be difficult for him to manifest a warmer regard toward
any of his own tribe than he does toward Julia and myself.
He is firmly persuaded that providence is using
him as an instrument by which to effect the redemption

and deliverance of his country; not that he himself is
to prove the messiah of his nation — as they term their
great expected prince — but that through him, in some
manner, by some service rendered or office filled, that
great personage will manifest himself to Israel. No
disappointment damps his zeal, or convinces him of the
futility of expectations resting upon no other foundation
than his own inferences, conjectures, or fanciful interpretation
of the dark sayings of the prophets. When
in the East, it was through Palmyra that his country was
to receive her king; through her victories that redemption
was to be wrought out for Israel. Being compelled
to let go that dear and cherished hope, he now fixes it
upon this little “Joseph,” and it will not be strange if
this child of poverty and want should in the end inherit
all his vast possessions, by which he will please himself
with thinking he can force his way to the throne of
Judea. Portia derives great pleasure from his conversation,
and frequently detains him long for that purpose,
and of her Isaac is never weary of uttering the loudest
and most extravagant praise. I sometimes wonder that
I never knew him before the Mediterranean voyage,
seeing he was so well known to Portia; but then again
I do not, when I remember by what swarms of mendicants,
strangers, and impostors of every sort, Portia was
ever surrounded, from whom I turned instinctively
away; especially did I ever avoid all intercourse with
Christians and Jews. I held them, of all, lowest and
basest.

We are just returned from Tibur, where we have enjoyed
many pleasant hours with Zenobia. Livia was

there also. The day was in its warmth absolutely
Syrian, and while losing ourselves in the mazes of the
queen's extensive gardens, we almost fancied ourselves
in Palmyra. Nicomachus being of the company, as he
ever is, and Vabalathus, we needed but you, Calpurnius,
and Gracchus, to complete the illusion.

The queen devotes herself to letters. She is rarely
drawn from her favorite studies but by the arrival of
friends from Rome. Happy for her is it that, carried back
to other ages by the truths of history, or transported to
other worlds by the fictions of poetry, the present and
the recent can be in a manner forgotten; or at least
that in these intervals of repose the soul can gather
strength for the thoughts and recollections which will
intrude, and which still sometimes overmaster her.
Her correspondence with you is another chief solace.
She will not doubt that by and by a greater pleasure
awaits her, and that instead of your letters she shall receive
and enjoy yourself. Farewell.