Valerius. A Roman Story

  _CHAPTER III._

  I had walked by the side of my young friend, and behind the Stoic, (who, Ithink, was expressing, in his pompous fashion, much admiration of thesinging of Rubellia,) along one or two of the great halls in which thelibrary is contained, before the novelty of the objects surrounding memade any impression even on my eyes; and even after these were in somemeasure engaged, my mind still continued to dwell on that troubled aspect,and on the notes of the uncompleted song. At length, however, the levityof youth, and natural curiosity revived; and I began to be present, not inbody merely, in a place where there was much that might well interest themind. Far-receding rows of columns conducted my eyes into the interminablerecesses of that wide range of chambers, in which the records of thethought and spirit of all past ages are piled up together; and gazing onthe loaded shelves which every where ascended into the galleries, I couldnot but be affected with many new emotions. I perused glorious names onthe busts that seemed to preside over the different compartments. The highfilletted front of Homer detained for the first time my contemplation; theeyes of the divine old man, even in sculpture, distinctly and visiblyblind, while the serenity and sanctity of the towering forehead, revealedhow the intense perception at once of the lovely and the great couldcompensate for visions of earthly beauty shut out. The mild Plato, and theimperious Stagyrite--Pindar--Simonides--Alcaeus--and I know not how many more,succeeded as we passed along--each in his own sphere, reigning by himself;yet all connected together by a certain common air of greatness, like somany successive princes, or contemporary heroes of the same mighty empire.

  From this main range, there diverged many lesser chambers, in which we sawstudious persons engaged, each seated by himself, and having his eyesfixed on the parchment before him. Of these, some deigned not to intimateby the smallest movement their perception that any one had approached; butwith others Xerophrastes exchanged, as he walked, lofty salutation, andone or two even entered, for a moment, into conversation with him. Withone of these, indeed, (an ancient of bitter aspect,) to such a length didthe colloquy extend, that we began to think we should never be able to getour Stoic away from him; till, as our fortune would have it, it becamenecessary for them to have a certain book for the purpose of reference,and then Xerophrastes began to make inquiries concerning Parmeno, who, asI gathered, must needs be one of those intrusted with the care of thelibrary.

  "I am afraid," said the other, "if we must wait for him, we shall not beable to get that work either to-day or to-morrow; for his pupil, the sonof Fabricius, is dead, and I suppose he will now change his quarters, andbe no longer seen so often about these haunts of the muses."

  "Alas!" interrupted Sextus, "I met Fabricius in the Forum a few days ago,and he told me his son was ill; but little did I imagine my dear companionwas so near his end! Is it indeed so?"

  "Even so," rejoined the other. "Rapid have been the shears of Atropos! Itis but a few moments since Agaso, the painter passed; and, he told me hehad been receiving orders to take a likeness, as well as he could, fromthe corpse."

  "If Agaso be so engaged," replied Xerophrastes, "I am afraid we need notexpect to find him neither in his usual place. Perhaps we had better makeinquiry for him at the dwelling of Fabricius."

  To this Sextus assented; or rather, being lost in reflection concerningthe death of his friend, he suffered himself to be conducted by the Stoic.Passing, therefore, through one or two more apartments, we issued forth,and drew near to the vestibule of Fabricius' house, who, as they told me,was a noble Roman, having the chief superintendance of the whole library,and an intimate friend of Licinius--one whose domestic calamity could notfail to spread much affliction through a wide circle of patrician kindred.

  At the vestibule, we found assembled not a few of the young man'srelations; but Xerophrastes immediately said, "Behold Parmeno, he is themost afflicted; and what wonder that it should be so?"

  "Alas!" said Sextus, "the bier is set forth; the last rites are to beperformed this evening."

  This Parmeno was a striking figure. Seated close by the bier, his head wasinvolved in his cloak, so that only his eyes and his nose could be seen,but these of themselves expressed a decorous affliction; and the folds ofthe cloak fell down over the rest of his person in great order anddignity. On the pavement beside him was seen lying, half-unfolded, a bookinscribed with the name of Heraclitus, which he appeared to have beenreading. When Xerophrastes approached, this mourner stretched forth hishand, and shook his head, but he did not say any thing, nor even looktowards the rest of us; and indeed to have done so, would have disturbedthe attitude in which he had placed himself. Xerophrastes, on his part,received the proffered hand, and shaking his head in response, said, "Yes,my Ionian friend, I may still bid thee hail and live; but I must sayfarewell to the plant thou wast rearing. Farewell to the youthful promiseof Fabricius!"

  On hearing these words, the sitting philosopher drew his mantle quite overhis face, and leant himself heavily against one of the fluted columns ofthe vestibule, for he seemed to be much shaken. In the meantime Sextusapproached the bier, and contemplated his companion as he lay therewreathed with melancholy garlands; his countenance bearing a naturalmixture of sadness and astonishment. Nor could I, who had never beforeseen the young man, behold the spectacle without similar emotions; for hisage, as it seemed, could not have been much different from my own, and thepale features were interesting, their expression not less amiable thansolemn.

  "Alas!" said Sextus, "the last time I saw him, how differently did heappear! We rode out together with some others to Tibur, and spent all theday there; and as we returned by the moonlight, how joyous hisconversation! Methinks I yet hear him laughing and speaking. We parted atthe foot of the Capitoline, and never did I see him again till now."

  "Oh, fate of man!" quoth Xerophrastes; "how uncertain is life, how certaindeath! Without doubt, young Fabricius had as little thought of dying asany of your company; and yet, see now, he is arrayed for the last time,and this juvenile gown, which he should so soon have laid aside for themanly, is destined to be consumed with him."

  "A fine lad he was," cries one of the standers by,--"a fine lad, and anexcellent horseman. The Martian Field did not often behold such a rider inthese degenerate days of the Roman youth."

  But while the rest were still contemplating the bier, Xerophrastes,turning to his brother philosopher, said, "Tell me now, my learned friend,do you still, after this mournful event, continue to reside with the elderFabricius? Has that excellent man any more sons to be educated, or will heretain you only for the sake of the library, with which assuredly he willfind few so conversant as yourself?"

  To which Parmeno replied, "Your question, O Xerophrastes, shews that clearjudgment concerning the affairs of men, for which you have always beencelebrated. No, my friend, the gray-haired Fabricius no longer requires myresidence here; for he is about to retire into one of his villas on theCampanian shore, and to bury for ever his affliction in the privacy of hiswoods. We are about to part, not without mutual tears; and severalPatricians have already been applying to him for his influence with me,whom, although unworthy of so much research, they earnestly covet, andwish to engage as the instructor of their young men. I have been sittinghere not unseen, beside this my former charge, and each is impatient tosolicit me into his service."

  "Your reputation I well know is high," replied Xerophrastes, "anddeservedly so; more particularly, for that fine talent you have for givingmetaphysical interpretations of mythology, and for explaining the obscureallegories of ancient poets. But for my own part, Parmeno, I find not somuch delight in abstract ideas, or in the passive contemplation of theuniverse; but incline rather to study, as heretofore, that part ofphilosophy which relates to action, and the morality of duty."

  "Yes, worthy Xerophrastes," returned he, with a most languid serenity;"and so far as I understand, you sort well in this with the stirringdisposition of your friend Licinius."

  To which Xerophrastes made answe
r:--"My patron Licinius is fond of action,and I of the rules of action. He says, it is only in war, or in civilfunctions of a public nature, that a person can prove himself a man. Therest, he says, is visionary, and comes to nothing, or is a slumber of themind in sensuality, without thought."

  "Does he think, then," quoth Parmeno, his wobegone countenance relaxinginto a smile,--"Does Licinius think, then, there is no sensuality inperpetual action, and declamation and noise? To me such things appearalmost as trivial as the lazy enjoyments of Epicureans, besides beingharsh and disagreeable, and not unfrequently ridiculous. But observe, OXerophrastes! that I speak these things as it were abstractly, and not byany means in disparagement of Licinius, your excellent patron and friend."

  To which the stoic replied in astonishment--"What is this you have said? Doyou assert that action is sensual?"

  Then Parmeno, lifting from the pavement the book which he had beenreading, or appearing to read, said, "It is even so, most eruditeXerophrastes. Indeed, I have always delighted in the most primitive andremote doctrines handed down from antiquity; and among others, in theriddles of this obscure Ephesian. Following the scope of his philosophy, Iam led to believe, that, so often as the mind impels, or is impelled byother causes, it begins to lose sight of pure knowledge, and becomes indanger of thinking that every thing is vain, light, and evanescent, exceptwhat is perceived by the senses. Heraclitus well says, that Love andHatred govern all things. Now, when the principle of Discord prevails, itsubjects all things to the dominion of action, and to the grossperceptions of sense. But when that of Love is prevalent, it emancipatesthe struggling chaos of things from the yearning of compulsion, and fromthe darkness of sensual proximity; for, between things that struggleimmediately against each other, light has no room to enter in and shine;and therefore it is, that, when Love gains the ascendency, a newarrangement is produced--an arrangement which, if I may so express it, ismore serene, transparent, orderly and divine, and wherein things exist insafety from the danger of mutual destruction."

  After a preliminary cough:--"My opinion," replied Xerophrastes, "coincidesrather with that of Empedocles. The immortal Sicilian thinks that Discordis the only separating and arranging principle which marks the boundariesbetween things, and enables them mutually to act and repel, in such a wayas to preserve order."--"Nay, nay," interrupted Parmeno, his hands being bythis quite disentangled from his cloak, and his countenance lightedup,--"Nay, nay, to such doctrine I never shall assent. From Empedocles--evenfrom Xerophrastes, I must differ for ever on this head. The order of whichyou and the Sicilian speak, is the order of darkness only, and of blindforce,--a kind of order in which fierceness and cruelty always reign." ButXerophrastes continued:--"And I farther concur with Empedocles in thinking,that Love is a principle of which the predominance is more fit to turnorder into a chaos, than to produce the effects you have described."--"Nay,speak not against Love," quoth Parmeno--"Speak not against Love, norbelieve that any respect is due to the dictates of Empedocles, who taughtthe worst that can be taught by any man--that is to say, the alternation oforder and confusion succeeding each other throughout all time. To seek fortruth in conceptions like these, is no better than to seek repose in thebosom of AEtna."--"In reference to that point," resumed Xerophrastes, "Iagree with you in your disapprobation of Empedocles. But when you say,that Love is the source of knowledge, you much astonish me; for I havealways thought rather that its tendency is to bring confusion upon themind."

  "Once more," said Parmeno--"once more, let me beseech you to say nothingagainst love. You are thinking of the love of particular objects. Youspeak of Cupid, and not of that heavenly Eros, who, so far fromenchaining, or tyrannizing over the mind, rather enables it to escape intothe tranquil freedom of far extended contemplation. But what iscontemplation without the knowledge of permanent forms, on which the mindmay find repose, and so keep itself from being perplexed by the shiftingaspects of the many-coloured universe? And therefore it is, OXerophrastes, that, sometimes laying aside Heraclitus, I study the ancientverses of the poet, Xenophanes, who shews, by the nature of abstractforms, that a certain unity pervades all things. Xenophanes mused of oldat Colophon, looking through the blue ether of my native Ionia.--But whyshould I speak thus at length? Alas! what is the occasion of our beinghere!--I perceive the approach of the poet, who was to compose aninscription for the urn of my dear Fabricius. Yonder also is thearchitect, who comes with a design for the tomb. Oh! day of wo, that Ishould sit in judgment concerning the epitaph and tomb of my ingenuousyouth!"

  "It is, indeed, true," replied Xerophrastes, "that even I, in therepercussions of our talk, had well-nigh forgotten this unhappyoccurrence; but, perhaps, there is something not after all entirelyexcusable in our giving so much superiority to the affairs ofphilosophical discussion. Now, however, it is evident, that we mustsuspend our colloquy--And who, I beseech you, above all things, is he thatnow draws near to the place of this mournful assembly, holding a horse inhis hand. Methinks I have seen his face before."

  "That you have indeed, Master," quoth he that had come up,--"that you have;and no longer ago than yesterday neither, if you will be pleased to giveyourself the trouble of recollecting. My name is Aspar--I am well known. Ifbut my excellent friend, the noble Centurion Sabinus, were here, poor oldAspar would have no reason to complain of the want of a good word."

  "Good morrow to you, Aspar," said Sextus; "but what is it that brings youhither just at this moment? And for what purpose have you brought yourhorse with you? for people of your sort do not in general ride in thecourts of the Palatine."

  "Alas!" quoth Aspar, "and is it you, who seem to have been one of thecontemporaries of that peerless youth--is it you that ask such a questionas this? I did not, in truth, imagine that there was any friend of youngFabricius, who did not know his affection for little Sora. There is notsuch another within twenty miles of the Capitol; but I brought her hithermerely out of regard for the family. As for myself, I should never bear tolook on her again with pleasure, after knowing the sudden manner of hisdeath. I wish to Heaven the filly were fairly lodged in one of thepaddocks of the Lord Fabricius himself."

  "Lead the animal round into the stables," says Parmeno, "and I doubt notcare will be taken of her.--Yonder comes one of the buffoons of thetheatre;--he, I doubt not, is here to disgrace, if he be permitted, thissolemn scene, with ranting quotations from the tragic poets. Alas! alas! Icannot bear all this: There also advance the officiators from the Templeof Libitina; they have their cypress boughs ready in their hands. Oh, mylearned friend, I cannot sustain these things; let me be gone into themansion."

  The admirer of Heraclitus, picking up his scroll, and gathering togetherthe folds of his mantle, moved slowly into the house, Xerophrastesfollowing with similar gestures. Sextus and I also were about to take ourdeparture; and he, having procured from one of the slaves of the house amyrtle garland, had already placed it upon the bier of the youngFabricius, as the last testimonial of his concern; when there drew neartwo young men, clad in long mantles of black, who, solemnly embracing myfriend, began to exchange with him many expressions of grief.

  While they were thus engaged, Rubellia, who had been standing all thiswhile a little apart, sent a boy to inform us that the painter we were insearch of had at last made his appearance, and was anxious to proceed withhis portrait. I drew Sextus away, therefore, and soon joined the lady andthe artist; but as we were moving off thus, one of the bystanding slaves,an old gray-headed man, came up and whispered to Sextus, "Sir, be notdeceived; these two nephews of my bereaved master are to me the mostdisagreeable part of all this preparation. You have heard theirlamentation, and seen their sweeping raiment of mourning; but, be sure, aprincipal subject of their reflection is the probability that one or otherof them must be adopted by Fabricius. Alas! alas! so goes all betweenLucina and Libitina. There was never a birth nor a marriage that did notcreate some sorrow, nor a funeral procession that did not give rise tosome joy. Your rhetoricians talk, but what avails it all? Slaves andmaste
rs are alike subjected to the evils of the world, and of these deathis both the last and the least."