j LIBRARY) 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 { SAN DIEGO
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 IN THE 
 
 FOURTH CENTURY
 
 C. J. CLAY AND SONS, 
 CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE, 
 AVE MAEIA LANE. 
 
 50, WELLINGTON STREET. 
 
 letpjtfl: F. A. BROCKHAUS. 
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 E. SEYMOUR HALE. 
 
 [All Rights reserved]
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 IN 
 
 THE FOURTH CENTURY 
 
 BY 
 
 TERROT REAVELEY GLOVER M.A. 
 
 CLASSICAL LECTURER AND FORMERLY FELLOW OF ST JOHN'S COLLEGE CAMBRIDGE 
 LATE PROFESSOR OF LATIN IN QUEEN'S UNIVERSITY CANADA 
 
 CAMBRIDGE 
 
 AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS 
 
 1901
 
 Cambridge : 
 
 PRINTED BY J. & C. F. CLAY 
 AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.
 
 TO 
 
 JOHN WATSON 
 JOHN MACNAUGHTON 
 
 AND 
 
 JAMES CAPPON 
 
 IN MEMORY OF 
 
 FIVE WINTERS IN CANADA
 
 PREFACE 
 
 WHEN studying the history of the early Roman Empire 
 the reader has at call a thousand impressions of the 
 writers of the day, whom he has read from boyhood, and 
 who have helped to form the mind and the temper with 
 which he reads. But the same does not hold of the period 
 of the Gothic invasions and the fall of Paganism. The litera- 
 ture is extensive, but it is not known, it is hardly read. No 
 one who has given it a sympathetic study can call it wanting 
 in pathos or power, but the traditions of scholarship point 
 in another direction. An age that can boast an Augustine 
 and a Syuesius in prose, a Claudian and a Prudentius in 
 poetry, is nevertheless in general ignored, except by scholars 
 engaged in some special research, who use them as sources. 
 
 My endeavour has been, by reading (if I may use the 
 expression) across the period, to gain a truer knowledge be- 
 cause a wider. Then, bearing in rniud its general air and 
 character, I have tried to give the period to my reader, not 
 in a series of generalizations but in a group of portraits. I 
 have tried to present the men in their own way, carefully 
 and sympathetically ; to shew their several attempts, successful 
 or unsuccessful, to realize and solve the problems common 
 to them all ; and to illustrate these attempts from their 
 environment, literary, religious and political. As far as pos- 
 sible, I have tried to let them tell their own tale, to display 
 themselves in their weakness and their strength.
 
 viii Preface 
 
 I have deliberately avoided the writers, whose work may 
 be strictly called technical or special, for those whose concern 
 was more with what is fitly called literature, but I have 
 at the same time not forgotten the former. For instance, 
 to have treated the theological writings of Athanasius or 
 Augustine at all adequately would have gone far beyond my 
 present limits. And indeed it was less necessary to attempt 
 this, as it has been done fully and ably by others. Rather 
 my concern has been with the world in which the philosopher 
 and the theologian found themselves, and I trust that some 
 who study them may find help in my effort to picture this 
 world. For such students I am only supplying background. 
 Still I hope this background may have for those who are 
 interested in the refraction of light as well as in light itself, 
 a value and an interest as a presentment of an important 
 and even pathetic moment in the history of our race. 
 
 As my course has been across the period, I have had 
 again and again to explore a fresh stream upward and toward 
 its source. Every writer has his own antecedents, and some 
 consideration of these has been in every case necessary. No 
 stream however lacks tributaries, and some have many. I 
 suppose that of all of these I should have had some personal 
 knowledge, but as this would have meant a constantly widening 
 and never-ending series of independent researches, I have 
 done the human thing in accepting the work of other men 
 in outlying regions, while surveying as far as I could myself 
 the lands adjacent to my particular subject in each instance. 
 In such cases I have generally given my authority. It may 
 very well occur that specialists will find blunders in detail 
 in my work. I have found them myself in places where I 
 felt secure. But I trust that no blunders will be found of 
 such dimensions as to un-focus any of my portraits or at least 
 to affect at all materially my general picture. 
 
 I have made constant use of the works of Gibbon, of 
 M. Boissier, of Dr Hodgkin and Professor Bury. Other books
 
 Preface ix 
 
 which I have consulted are mentioned in the various notes. 
 Professor Dill's interesting book, Roman Society in the last 
 Century of the Western Empire, I did not see till some seven 
 of my chapters were written. As in one or two places his work 
 and mine have overlapped, I felt I had less freedom to use 
 his book, but in general it. will be found that our periods and 
 provinces have been quite distinct. My table of dates is based 
 chiefly on Goyau, Chronologie de I'Empire Romain. Dr Sandys 
 has been kind enough to read some of my proofs. 
 
 Most of my work on this volume has been done in Canada. 
 Those who know the difficulties with which young Universities 
 have to contend in " all the British dominions beyond the 
 seas," difficulties incident to young countries and as a rule 
 bravely faced and overcome, will not be surprised that the 
 Library at my disposal was small. But any one who knows 
 Queen's University will understand what compensations I have 
 had for a limited number of books in the friendship, the 
 criticism and the encouragement of the colleagues to whom 
 I have dedicated my work. 
 
 ST JOHN'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, 
 September, 1901.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Table of Dates xii 
 
 Chapter I. Introduction 1 
 
 II. Ammianus Marcellinus 20 
 
 III. Julian 47 
 
 IV. Quintus of Smyrna 77 
 
 V. Ausonius 102 
 
 VI. Women Pilgrims 125 
 
 VII. Symmachus 148 
 
 VIII. Macrobius 171 
 
 IX. St Augustine's Confessions 194 
 
 X. Claudian 216 
 
 XI. Prudentius 249 
 
 XII. Sulpicius Severus 278 
 
 XIII. Palladas 303 
 
 XIV. Synesius 320 
 
 XV. Greek and Early Christian Novels . . . 357 
 
 NOTE. Summaries of the contents of the chapters may be found by 
 reference to the index under the names of the authors treated.
 
 TABLE OF DATES 
 
 310 ?Ausonius born at Bordeaux. 
 
 325 Council of Nicaea. 
 
 Gallus, brother of Julian, born. 
 
 ? Ammianus Marcellinus born (or later). 
 
 ? St Silvia of Aquitaine born. 
 
 326 Helena goes to Palestine. 
 
 328 Athanasius bishop of Alexandria. 
 
 Death of Helena on her return from Palestine. 
 
 330 Consecration of Constantinople. 
 
 331 Julian born. 
 
 332 Monnica born. 
 
 333 The "Bordeaux pilgrim" goes to Palestine. 
 
 337 Death of Constantine. Succession of Constantius and his brothers 
 
 Constans and Constantine. 
 Murder of eight members of the Imperial family. 
 
 338 Sapor besieges Nisibis for sixty-three days, but cannot take it. 
 Eusebius of Nicomedeia, bishop of Constantinople. 
 
 339 Death of Eusebius of Caesarea, the historian. 
 
 340 Constantine the younger invades Italy and is killed. His share of 
 
 the Empire passes to Constans. 
 ?St Ambrose born. 
 ? St Jerome born. 
 ? Symmachus born (or later). 
 
 341 Incursions of Franks into Gaul. 
 
 342 Death of Eusebius of Nicomedeia. 
 Peace made with the Franks. 
 
 343 Councils of Sardica and Philippopolis.
 
 Table of Dates xiii 
 
 346 Sapor again besieges Nisibis, but after seventy-eight days abandons 
 
 the siege. 
 
 347 ?John Chrysostom born. 
 
 348 War with Persia. 
 Prudentius born. 
 
 349 Sapor for the third time besieges Nisibis in vain. 
 
 350 Magnentius, a German, declared Emperor in Gaul. 
 Death of Constans. 
 
 Vetranio proclaimed Emperor at Sirmium (1 March). 
 Magnentius master of Rome. 
 
 Conference of Constantius with Vetranio (25 Dec.). Vetranio's sol- 
 diers desert him. He is pardoned by Constantius. 
 Gallus recalled to Constantius' court, and made Caesar next year. 
 
 351 War between Constantius and Magnentius. 
 
 352 Magnentius loses Italy and falls back on Gaul. 
 Liberius bishop of Rome. 
 
 353 Constantius marries Eusebia. 
 
 Magnentius, defeated and deserted, kills himself. 
 Paulinus (afterwards bishop of Nola) born at Bordeaux. 
 
 354 Constantius at war against the Alamanni. 
 Fall of Gallus. 
 
 Augustine born (13 Nov.) at Thagaste. 
 
 355 Campaign of Constantius against Alamanni. 
 Julian at Milan, and afterwards at Athens. 
 Revolt of Silvanus. 
 
 Franks, Alamanni and Saxons invade Gaul. 
 
 Julian declared Caesar, and married to Helena. He pronounces his 
 first panegyric on Constantius and goes to Gaul. 
 
 356 Julian retakes Cologne, held by Germans 10 months. 
 
 357 Julian, in supreme command in Gaul, crosses the Rhine and defeats 
 
 the Germans. 
 Constantius visits Rome. 
 
 359 Gratian born. 
 
 Sapor crosses the Euphrates. 
 Siege and fall of Amid. 
 
 360 Julian's second panegyric to Constantius. 
 
 Further operations of Sapor. Constantius prepares to meet him. 
 Soldiers proclaim Julian Emperor. 
 The Empress Eusebia dies. 
 ? Stilicho born (or earlier).
 
 xiv Table of Dates 
 
 361 Constantius marries Faustina. 
 
 Julian crosses the Rhine and Constantius the Euphrates ; both suc- 
 cessful in their foreign campaigns and march against each other. 
 
 Death of Constantius (Nov.). 
 
 Julian enters Constantinople (Dec.), and orders re-opening of 
 temples, and proclaims toleration. 
 
 Bishop George murdered in Alexandria. 
 
 362 Julian goes to Antioch (midsummer). 
 Heathen revival. 
 
 363 Julian's Persian campaign. 
 Death of Julian (June). 
 
 Jovian, Emperor, surrenders Nisibis and five provinces to Sapor. 
 
 364 Death of Jovian (Feb.). 
 
 Valentinian and Valens, Emperors, in West and East respectively. 
 Saxons, Picts and Scots ravage Britain. Alamanni in Gaul. 
 
 365 Avianius Symmachus prefect of Rome. 
 Revolt of Procopius. 
 
 ? Sulpicius Severus born. 
 ? Synesius born (Volkmann). 
 
 366 Fall of Procopius. 
 
 Death of Liberius bishop of Rome. Fight of Ursinus and Damasus 
 for see of Rome. Damasus bishop. 
 
 367 Valens crosses the Danube to meet the Goths. 
 
 368 The Count Theodosius in Britain. He takes London. 
 
 369 Campaign of Valentinian against Alamanni across the Rhine. 
 
 Symmachus and Ausonius follow the expedition. 
 
 370 Ausonius writes the Mosella. 
 
 371 Rising of Firmus in Africa. 
 
 Death of Patricius, Augustine's father. 
 
 372 Adeodatus, son of Augustine, born. 
 
 373 Death of Athanasius. 
 
 374 Ambrose bishop of Milan. 
 
 375 Death of Valentinian. Gratian succeeds him and refuses the title 
 
 Pontifex Maximus. Valentinian II also Emperor, aged 5 years. 
 
 376 Count Theodosius beheaded at Carthage. 
 
 377 Arcadius born. 
 
 378 Paulinus consul. 
 
 Gothic war. Defeat and death of Valens at Adrianople. 
 The younger Theodosius (I) succeeds him as Emperor in the East 
 (379).
 
 Table of Dates xv 
 
 379 Ausonius consul. 
 
 381 Council of Constantinople. 
 
 383 Maximus proclaimed Emperor by his soldiers in Britain. He crosses 
 
 to Gaul. War with Gratian. 
 
 Murder of Gratian. Peace between Maximus and Valentinian II. 
 Augustine goes to Rome. 
 
 384 Honorius born. 
 
 Death of bishop Damasus, who is succeeded by Siricius. 
 
 385 Stilicho's campaign in Britain against Picts, Scots and Saxons. 
 Theophilus bishop of Alexandria. 
 
 387 Affair of the Statues at Antioch. 
 Baptism of Augustine. 
 Maximus invades Italy. 
 
 388 Defeat and death of Maximus. 
 
 390 Massacre at Thessalonica by Theodosius' orders. Ambrose forbids 
 
 him the church. 
 
 391 Symmachus consul. 
 
 Anti-pagan legislation by Theodosius. 
 
 392 Valentinian II murdered by order of Arbogast, who makes Eugenius 
 
 Emperor, in Gaul. 
 
 393 Eugenius comes to Italy and issues decrees in favour of paganism. 
 
 394 Flavian reestablishes pagan rites in Italy. His soldiers desert 
 
 him on approach of Theodosius, and he commits suicide. 
 Battle of the Frigidus between Theodosius and Eugenius (5 Sept.). 
 Theodosius defeats and kills Eugenius (6 Sept.). 
 Theodosius visits Rome. 
 
 395 Death of Theodosius at Milan. The Empire is divided between his 
 
 sons Honorius (West) and Arcadius (East). 
 Probinus and Olybrius consuls. 
 Alaric invades Greece. 
 
 Fall of Rufinus, minister at Constantinople. 
 Augustine bishop of Hippo. 
 
 396 Stilicho blockades Alaric at Pholoe. Alaric escapes somehow. 
 
 397 Synesius goes to Constantinople. 
 
 Gildo the Moor transfers his allegiance from Rome to Constantinople, 
 
 and stops the corn supply of Rome. 
 Chrysostom bishop of Constantinople. 
 
 398 War with Gildo, who is defeated and killed.
 
 xvi Table of Dates 
 
 399 Revolt of Tribigild the Goth in Phrygia. 
 
 Fall of Eutropius. Affair of Gainas in Constantinople. 
 
 400 Stilicho and Aurelian consuls. 
 I Death of St Martin. 
 
 402 Battle of Pollentia (Hodgkin). 
 
 403 Honorius visits Rome. 
 
 404 Deposition of Chrysostom. 
 
 405 Cerealis governor of Pentapolis. 
 
 407 Death of Chrysostom. 
 
 408 Murder of Stilicho. 
 
 First siege of Rome by Alaric. 
 
 Death of Arcadius. Succeeded by Theodosius II. 
 
 409 Second siege of Rome by Alaric. 
 
 410 Third siege of Rome and its capture by Alaric (24 Aug.). 
 Synesius bishop of Ptolemais. 
 
 412 Death of Theophilus bishop of Alexandria. Succeeded by Cyril. 
 
 413 ? Death of Synesius. 
 
 415 Murder of Hypatia. 
 
 416 Return of Rutilius Namatianus to Gaul.
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 BEFORE proceeding to the study of the fourth century in the 
 lives and writings of a series of typical men, it will be well to take a 
 general survey of the period as a whole. Such a course, without 
 the further study, is apt to be unfruitful and unsatisfactory, yet as 
 a preface to it, it may help the student to a right orientation. The 
 different phases of the century's life will be dealt with at more 
 length in the various essays, in which many things set here will find 
 fuller illustration. Here however in the meantime our concern is 
 with general outlines and broad statements. For the sake of clear- 
 ness certain main lines will be followed, a plan which has the 
 drawback, incidental to all such dissection, of failing to shew in the 
 fullest way the interlacing of forces and tendencies which con- 
 stantly react on one another. I shall try to shew something of 
 this in my summary, but it is best felt when we read the period in 
 flesh and blood. 
 
 Let us begin with the Roman Empire difficult indeed to grasp 
 in all its meanings, and apart from the Church the 
 greatest factor in history. What it first meant to / T ^ e 7jin ~ 
 mankind was peace and law. We may be shocked to 9trfe 
 read here of a Roman governor in Spain or there of 
 one in Asia burning men alive in the days of Cicero and Virgil, of 
 endless crucifixions, of the extortions of a Verres, of venal rulers 
 and infamous publicans. Yet there is another side to all this, for 
 in the first place we know of all these things chiefly because they 
 shocked the Roman conscience. There was a great deal more that 
 should have shocked it but did not, because the world was not yet 
 
 G. 1
 
 2 Life and Letters in tlie Fourth Ccutnri/ 
 
 educated. In the next place, what did the Empire replace ? We 
 do not know this so well, but where we have any light we see that 
 it was generally a change for the better. The sentimentalist may 
 sigh for Greek freedom and for the national independence of other 
 races, but in the great age of Greece liberty had meant the right 
 of single cities to rule themselves, and what was now left of it was 
 worse than worthless, while the other peoples had never (with one 
 exception) been very clearly conscious of their nationality. The 
 peoples of the East had reached high levels of civilization and 
 organization, but through all the centuries of their intellectual and 
 commercial development they had been under the sway of the 
 foreigner. In the West there was even less national conscious- 
 ness 1 , for there Rome had faced not nations, but clans, never 
 united except by accident and always ready to quarrel. When at 
 last the peoples of Gaul and Spain began to feel conscious of their 
 race, they voiced their feelings in Latin. Rome thus had not to 
 extinguish nationalities, but rather she replaced here despotism 
 and there anarchy with the solid advantages of a steady govern- 
 ment, if severe, at least conscientious. 
 
 If Rome's yoke was heavy (and at times it weighed very heavily 
 on some unlucky province), still hardly any attempt was made to 
 throw it off. Rome had not as a rule to dread rebellion when 
 once the charm of a hereditary dynasty was broken. Almost the 
 sole exception is the Jewish people, a race made self-conscious by 
 its own prophets, by its Babylonian captivity and by the tyranny of 
 Antiochus Epiphanes and his like. Here the Roman met his 
 match, and here was the one people to impose its will upon him. 
 While everywhere the Roman government was sensitive to local 
 peculiarities of administration and religion and careful to respect 
 them where it was possible not to alter them, with the Jew special 
 terms had to be made wherever he was. His Sabbath, his syna- 
 gogue, his temple dues, the jurisdiction of his elders were all 
 conceded to him; but even so Rome had to face rebellion after 
 rebellion, and when that stage was past there still survived the 
 Jewish riot in Alexandria. Here alone Rome failed, but with 
 every other race once mistress she was mistress for ever, making all 
 peoples equal and members one of another under her sway. 
 
 The Roman roads bound the Empire together. They were kept 
 
 1 Cf. Seeck, Gesch. des Untergangs der antiken Welt i. (second edition), 
 pp. 207 212, on " diese Schwaehe des Staatsbewusstseins und des National- 
 gefiihls " among the early Germans.
 
 Introduction 3 
 
 in order and they were safe, and freedom of travel and trade 
 prevailed as never before. In the West the schoolmaster was the 
 sturdy ally of the government, and Latin culture bound Gaul and 
 Spaniard to Rome till any other form of rule became inconceivable. 
 Roman law found one of its most famous seats at the university of 
 Berytus in Syria, while in the West it shaped the thoughts and 
 conceptions of men to such an extent that it imposed itself at last 
 upon the Church and its theology, from which it is not yet eradi- 
 cated nor likely to be. East and West agreed in the belief that 
 Rome's rule was eternal. Afrahat the Syrian and Tertullian the 
 first great Latin father alike inculcate that the fall of the Roman 
 Empire will not come till the Day of Judgment and the world's 
 end. In a certain sense they are no doubt right, but their prophecy 
 was of the formal government of Rome. The distress caused by 
 the Gothic invasions is partly to be traced to the feeling that, if 
 Rome fell, there was no possible power to take her place. Thus 
 she stood for law, for peace and quiet, and for the general order of 
 the universe. She was a necessary part of the universe, and her 
 rule was a postulate for all rational thought on society. 
 
 Yet there was a bad side to all this. All power was cen- 
 tralized in the Emperor, more and more so as the 
 
 .. , , i P ,1-1 / ,1 Its weakness. 
 
 generations passed, partly from the jealousy ot the 
 ruler and partly from the habits of obedience and reliance induced 
 by long dependence. The faculty for self-government was paralysed 
 by long disuse. Men were at first afraid and afterwards unable to 
 think and move for themselves 1 . The consequences of such a 
 decline are hard to compute, but the general helplessness of the 
 Roman provinces in the face of invaders, numerically inferior but 
 strong in the self-reliance of a free people without much govern- 
 ment, is perhaps the most striking evidence of decay. 
 
 Another source of mischief was bad finance. From very early 
 days the prejudice that trade is an unworthy occupation for a noble 
 and high-spirited man had survived. No great industries were 
 developed, and the world was poorer for want of the ingenuity they 
 stimulate and the wealth they bring. The slave system was no doubt 
 in part responsible for this, but not altogether. Industries depend 
 
 1 Tacitus already remarks an inscitia reipublicae ut alienae a striking 
 phrase (Hist. i. 1). Seeck, op. cit. pp. 287 8, calls attention to the effect of 
 the proscriptions in removing the brave and independent, and leaving only the 
 weaker to be the fathers of a new generation themselves and their children 
 alike cowed by these examples of the results of independence. See p. 343. 
 
 12
 
 4 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 on intelligence and observation, and these were depressed by the 
 conditions of absolute government, and there was no foreign society 
 to quicken them by competition and correspondence. As if this 
 were not enough, taxation was arranged on fatal principles. The 
 middle classes paid all the taxes, and, the towns being taxed as 
 units, with every loss to the circle of tax-payers the burden was 
 more and more intolerable for the rest. The lower classes, at least 
 in Rome, were fed, amused and bathed for nothing. Free grain, 
 free wine, free pork and free oil may trace their descent from the 
 laws of Gaius Gracchus. The extravagant beast-shows and gladia- 
 torial games were another legacy from senatorial Rome, and these 
 were a tax on the rich all over the Empire. Symmachus spent 
 .80,000, equivalent I suppose to four times the sum to-day, on one 
 set of shows. Beast-catching was indeed a flourishing, if an unpro- 
 ductive, industry. Money was wasted in other ways, especially 
 after Diocletian's remodelling of the imperial system and his 
 establishment of two Emperors and two Caesars, each of the four 
 with an extravagant court. Presents to the Emperor were another 
 form of extortion. 
 
 Beside these elements of decay, and connected with them, was 
 the terrible legacy left by the Republic in debased morals. The 
 Roman character had its fine side, as we see in the qualities a 
 Roman loved gravitas and modestia, and in the ideals to which he 
 aspired honores and auctoritas, and while this is written for good 
 all over the face of the Roman Empire and Roman institutions, 
 there was another side. It may seem fanciful to go back to 
 Hannibal for the beginning of Rome's decline, but he began the 
 decay of Italian agriculture, and from his day Italian yeomanry 
 died away. Following immediately on the Hannibalic war came 
 the conquests of Greece and Western Asia, and the simultaneous 
 flooding of Rome with Greek philosophy and Asiatic wealth. The 
 one taught the Roman to despise the rustic gods of his fathers, 
 and the other their thrifty, farm-bred ideals. Sudden wealth joined 
 forces with a flippant scepticism to sap the Roman character, just 
 as a successful rebellion and an enormous and rapid accumulation 
 of wealth in the hands of persons without traditions have given 
 a modern people a bad repute for lawlessness and want of taste. 
 Neither in the one case nor in the other are redeeming features 
 wanting, as we have seen, but the Roman aristocracy and the 
 middle class were almost entirely corrupted. The last century of 
 the Republic is marked by reckless and tasteless selfishness of the
 
 Introduction 5 
 
 most violent type and by its fruits in chaos, massacre and paralysis. 
 Over all this rose the Empire, heir to a weakened manhood and 
 lowered ideals. It stopped in some measure the rapid progress of 
 the disease, but the germs of Rome's decay it could not reach. It 
 could not touch the essential scepticism of Roman society ; it might 
 try to revive a discredited religion and restore a forgotten ritual, 
 but the profound unbelief underlying all the ideas of the upper 
 classes was beyond its power to cure. Slavery was too deeply 
 rooted in the social scheme to be meddled with, and indeed it 
 seems to have occurred to no one to meddle with it. Marriage 
 fell into disuse, as was natural when the sceptical and self- 
 indulgent had the slave-system in their homes. And in spite of 
 wars and proscriptions there was still the great wealth and still the 
 tradition of replenishing it more or less honestly by the spoliation 
 of the provinces. There was still the passion for the gladiatorial 
 games and for the theatre the schools of murder and of lust whose 
 lessons were only too faithfully learned. 
 
 The wars of the year 69 A.D. mark a stage in Roman history. 
 It is as though the world now definitely accepted the fact of the 
 Empire. The restlessness that marks its first century is past. 
 Then the sons of men, who, if not statesmen, had played great parts 
 on the world's stage, were settling sullenly down to splendid and 
 caged insignificance in Rome, eating, drinking, conspiring, raging 
 and failing. Now, a quieter mood comes over the world. There 
 is less rage and less extravagance, and the fruits of a quiet move- 
 ment of thought begin to appear. Scepticism is yielding place to 
 Stoicism, the philosophy of endurance. It was followed by a 
 genuine revival of religion, genuine in that men believed in their 
 convictions of its truth, but after all a sentimental revival. 
 Scepticism and despair had yielded to philosophy, but the human 
 heart wanted more 1 . Still sceptical it turned to religion, and of 
 this mood of faith and unfaith, of this wish to believe and this 
 doubt of the possibility of belief, came the revival. It was not of 
 the best or the strongest, but it did good. It had an air of 
 asceticism about it, and decency revived and society grew purer. 
 But it could not check the decline. 
 
 1 Cf. Strauss, der Romantiker auf dem Throne p. 20, " In such times of 
 transition in the world's history, men in whom feeling and imagination out- 
 weigh clear thinking, souls of more warmth than clearness, will ever turn 
 backward toward the old." This is written of Julian, but it applies to the 
 whole revival in question.
 
 6 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 At the end of the third century Diocletian orientalized the 
 The Empire Empire * borrow an expression of Synesius'. I 
 in the 4th cen- give the story in the words of a hostile critic, 
 tur 'J- Lactantius (if he wrote the De Mortibus Perse- 
 
 cutorum). " This man ruined the world by his avarice and 
 cowardice. For he set up three to share his kingdom [remark the 
 word at last, regnurn], and divided the world into four parts. This 
 meant the multiplication of armies, since every one of them strove 
 to have a far larger number of soldiers, than former princes had 
 had, when they governed the state single-handed. So much greater 
 did the number of those who received begin to be than of those 
 who gave, that the strength of the farmers was exhausted by the 
 enormity of taxation, the fields were deserted and cultivated lauds 
 returned to forest. And, that everything might be full of terror, 
 the provinces also were cut into scraps, many rulers and more 
 officials swooped down on the various regions and almost one might 
 say on the several cities... [He enlarges on their number and greed.] 
 ...He was also a man of insatiable avarice, and wished his reserves 
 never to be lessened ; but he was always gathering in extraordinary 
 sums of money and ' presents,' in order to keep what he was 
 storing intact and inviolate ...... To this was added his boundless 
 
 passion for building, no less a tax on the provinces in supplying 
 workmen and artificers and waggons and every sort of thing neces- 
 sary for building. Here basilicas, there a circus, here a mint, there 
 an armoury, here a palace for his wife and there for his daughter ...... 
 
 Such was his constant madness, his passion to make Nicomedeia 
 equal to the city of Rome " (de Mort. Pers. 7). 
 
 This is the bad side of the story. There was, however, another. 
 The division of the imperial power, it is fair to assume, was to 
 secure the world against being left without a head, as it had so 
 often been in the third century, when the murder of an Emperor 
 again and again plunged society into anarchy and civil war. The 
 removal of the capital from Rome was a necessary and wise step 2 . 
 
 1 de Regno 10 : rty irepi rb ^affiXiKov ffw/j.a GKT\VT\V K.o.1 6 e pair {lav, rjv uxrirep 
 iepovpyovvres 7]fj.iv tv airopp-^ry iroiovvrai Kal TO papfiapiKus fKTfOflffOai TO. KO.&' 
 vfuis. Lactantius, M. P. 21, had already said Galerius deliberately copied 
 the Persian court. See Seeck, Untergang der antiken Welt (opening pages), for 
 a brilliant portrait of Diocletian, an Emperor with a Badical M.P.'s love of 
 reforming everything with one fresh plan after another. In his reign of twenty 
 years the Empire was more fundamentally changed than in all the preceding 
 three centuries. 
 
 2 Rome personified says in a poem of Claudian's His unnis qui lustra 
 mihi bis dena recensent \ nostra ter Augustos intra pomoeria vidi (vi. Cons.
 
 Introduction 7 
 
 The populace of Rome were no longer masters of the world, and 
 their opinions not now being needed, there was no reason, but 
 that of sentiment, for the seat of government remaining in a town 
 remote from all important points. Nicomedeia was convenient, for 
 it allowed the Emperor to be so much nearer both Danube and 
 Euphrates. Thirty years later Constantino further developed the 
 new system, making the Emperor the splendid head of a hierarchy 
 of officials and transferring the capital across the sea to Europe. 
 The foundation of Constantinople is no unimportant moment in the 
 world's history 1 . 
 
 Constantine was succeeded by his three sons, of whom Con- 
 stantius became sole ruler. He was followed by Julian, who reigned 
 some two years; and when, on Jovian's death (following speedily 
 that of Julian), Valentinian became Emperor, he was bidden by his 
 soldiers to name a colleague. He chose his brother Valens, and 
 they divided the Empire. Valens became Emperor at Constanti- 
 nople, and Valentinian in the West. Theodosius succeeded Valens, 
 and in 395 left the world to his two sons, Arcadius, Emperor in the 
 East, and Honorius in the West. From this point East and West 
 begin to fall more conspicuously apart. 
 
 I have said nothing so far of the Goths. For some generations 
 German barbarians had been menacing the Empire. Sometimes 
 they were driven off or killed; sometimes they were given lands 
 in the Empire and admitted to service in the army ; but still they 
 pressed on and on. The Goths' first really great victory was at 
 Adrianople in 378, where they killed Valens. It seemed then as 
 though they would at once finally overflow the Eastern half of the 
 Empire, but they were beaten back, and it was not for thirty 
 uneasy years that they had their will of the Roman world, and 
 then it was not Constantinople but Rome they captured (410). 
 They had little mind to destroy what they found; rather they 
 wished to share and to control. 
 
 With bad finance, cruel taxation, civil wars, slavery and Gothic 
 inroads the Roman Empire suffered terribly, but its most serious 
 danger was the steady loss of population resulting from these 
 causes, or at least speeded by them. The army was sterile; for 
 
 Hon. 392). These Emperors were Constantine, Constantius, Theodosius (twice). 
 Diocletian may be added a little before (Lactantius, M. P. 17), but in any 
 case this habitual absence of the Emperor is noteworthy. 
 
 1 For one thing it gave the Bishop of Kome a much freer hand than 
 he could otherwise have had, for uow the only serious competing world- 
 power was hundreds of miles away.
 
 8 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 till the reign of Severus soldiers were forbidden to marry during 
 service 1 , and did not care to afterwards 2 . The Christian apologists 
 never fail to bring home to the heathen their exposure of their 
 new-born children. At the same time the tendency to asceticism 
 and celibacy which went with the general revival of religion did 
 not help the world, the finer natures leaving no children. The 
 same unhappy result followed the persecutions of the Christians. 
 The great plague, which lasted for twenty years in the latter half 
 of the second century, also contributed to the depopulation, which 
 had long ago begun to be marked, in Greece for example 3 . German 
 immigration to some extent re-peopled the Empire, and greatly 
 modified its character. The army and the peasant class became 
 predominatingly German ; and when the great inroads of the fifth 
 century came, the Empire in the West was half German already. 
 In the East the Persians and in Africa mere barbarians, neither 
 easy to assimilate, wrought havoc with the Roman world, plunder- 
 ing, murdering and kidnapping. 
 
 This then is the Roman world, a society splendidly organized ; 
 training in laws and arms the Goths who were to overthrow it; 
 giving its character and strength to the Catholic Church which 
 was to check, to tame and to civilize these conquerors; and all 
 the while gradually decaying, yet never quite losing all power of 
 staying for a little its decline, as the wonderful history of Con- 
 stantinople shews. We can see in some measure why the Empire 
 fell, but how it was able to endure so long in the East is a harder 
 question, which is not to be solved here. There its story is some- 
 what different, but there too it shaped a church and made nations, 
 and held barbarism at bay for a thousand years after Rome had 
 been taken by the Goths. Even the victorious Turks but adopted 
 the traditions of government which they found. 
 
 Virgil had seen aright the genius of his countrymen, when he 
 apostrophized the Roman ; 
 
 Thou, do thou control 
 The nations far and wide: 
 Be this thy genius to impose 
 The rule of peace on vanquished foes, 
 Show pity to the humbled soul 
 And crush the sons of pride. 
 
 1 Diolx. 24,3. 
 
 2 Neqneconjiigiis suscipiendis neqne alendis liberis siietiorbassine posterisdomos 
 relinquebant, Tac. Ann. xiv. 27. See also Boissier Eoiuan Africa (tr.) p. 120 f. 
 
 3 See Seeck's excellent chapter on " die Entvolkerung des Reiches " ioi his 
 Untergawj der ant i ken Wdt. In the next essay (die Barbareu im Reich), p. 398,
 
 Introduction 9 
 
 Under the Empire there was a general decline in nearly all 
 the activities of the human mind, art, literature // Art 
 and philosophy alike falling away. Not all the Education, and 
 blame for this is to be laid upon Rome or her Literature. 
 government, for the impulse in all these things came from Greece 
 and was already well-nigh exhausted with the general exhaustion 
 of the Greek world. Faction, with its retaliatory massacres, 
 had in Greece steadily eliminated eminence and capacity. In 
 Rome much the same thing had befallen in the last century 
 of the Republic and in the years of. usurping and suspicious 
 Emperors. The level therefore of Greek and Roman genius steadily 
 fell 1 . 
 
 By the fourth century, says Gregorovius, "the creative art, 
 like the poetry and learning of the ancients, was taking its leave 
 of mankind ; the date of its disappearance being manifested in the 
 Triumphal Arch of Constautine, the border of two epochs. This 
 arch the Roman Senate adorned with sculptures robbed from 
 another arch dedicated to Trajan. As these were not sufficient, 
 the artists of the time, to whom some of the reliefs were entrusted, 
 were obliged to confess that the ideals of their forefathers had 
 vanished and that the day of the barbarians had dawned. The 
 Triumphal Arch of Constantino may thus be described as the 
 gravestone of the arts of Greece and Rome 2 ." The Christians 
 borrowed the form of the court of justice, the Basilica, for their 
 churches. St Peter's, the foundation of Constantino, like many 
 later churches, was built in some measure of relics and fragments 
 of paganism. The so-called chair of Peter, set in the church by 
 Pope Damasus, is typical of much. It is an ancient sedan-chair 
 decorated with minute carvings in ivory heathen pictures of beasts 
 and centaurs and the labours of Hercules, some fastened on upside 
 down. Statues were still made and so were pictures, but the great 
 arts of the day, as we learn from Claudian and Prudentius, were 
 embroidery and mosaic, and where all else failed a lavish profusion 
 of gold and jewels did instead of art. 
 
 he alludes to the plague, which he estimates cost the Empire half its popula- 
 tion, and goes on to shew the influence of German settlers on the Empire from 
 the days of Marcus Aurelius. 
 
 1 See Seeck, Gesch. des Untergangs der antiken Welt, pp. 280 ff. Seeck 
 holds that in the fourth century thought and literature throve only where there 
 was some Semitic element in the people Syria, Egypt, Africa. Certainly one 
 Semitic stock has not even yet declined if we may trust a Disraeli and a 
 Heine. Seeck's chapter Die Ausrottung der Besten is well worth study. 
 
 2 Home in the Middle Ages, vol. i. p. 85 and following pages.
 
 10 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 In literature we find the same sterility. Latin literature had 
 from the first been imitative, but imitation is one thing in strong 
 hands and another in weak, and the surest road to decline is to 
 copy the copy. Virgil and Horace had drawn their inspiration from 
 Greek poets ; Lucan and Statius from them ; and these last almost 
 as much as the former were the models of later poetry. It was no 
 better in the Greek world. East and west, education and litera- 
 ture were infected with rhetoric, and the chief task of culture was 
 to echo and distort in echoing the ideas of the past. Here and 
 there a poet has something of his own to say, and then the old 
 language has something of the old power. Claudian's poetry is 
 quickened by the thought of Rome, Prudentius' by the victory of 
 the Church and the unity of mankind in her, and both poets rise 
 conspicuous above their age. In Greek the best is Quintus, the 
 quiet amiable imitator and completer of Homer, the longest is 
 Nonnus, whose poetry is like nothing so much as the playing of a 
 prismatic fountain, the waters of which on analysis in a cold light 
 prove to be dirty and full of infection. 
 
 Serious prose, apart from the church and technical writers, was 
 almost unknown. History was a dying art, but for Eusebius and 
 Ammianus a very large reservation it is true. Letter-writing on 
 the other hand was never so flourishing or so sterile ; as a few 
 pages of Symmachus will shew. Yet Neo-Platonism, if it could not 
 re-create, could revive literature, and the fourth century has much 
 more to shew than the third more books and books worthy of 
 study for the light they throw on a great change taking place 
 under the cover of old forms. It was an age of schools and uni- 
 versities, but all of a conservative type. Education flourished, but 
 it was rhetorical. Chassaug remarks that there was no chair of 
 history in any of the foundations, but a certain amount would be 
 involved in the study of literature, which was a branch of grammar 1 . 
 Philosophy still lived, but it was not satisfactory. It was concerned 
 more with the tradition of dogmata than with the independent 
 investigation of reality, and magic followed it like a shadow. 
 There was some astronomy and a little other natural science, but 
 these too were traditional. But all these studies were overshadowed 
 
 1 Chassang, le Roman datis I'antiquite, p. 98. Among the Professorcs 
 commemorated by Ausonius is a rhetorician, Staphylius (20), who besides 
 being a consummate grammarian is described as historiam callens Livii et 
 Herodoti. Chassang is however right in his main contention that the subject 
 was held of minor importance. There had always been a tendency in Borne to 
 regard history from the point of view of style almost exclusively.
 
 Introduction 11 
 
 by the baleful rhetoric, infecting everything with pretentious un- 
 reality, as every system of education will that teaches style first and 
 forgets nature. 
 
 One of the most striking facts about the education of the day 
 is the undeniable charm it exercised over men, partly no doubt 
 because in sterile ages men most prize correctness, but partly 
 because it introduced them to masterpieces which they must have 
 felt beyond them, however much they called one another Ciceros 
 and Virgils. The Christians are as much captivated as the pagans, 
 as we see in Augustine's enthusiasm for the Aeneid and Jerome's 
 studies of Cicero and Plautus, and above all in the intense passion 
 roused by Julian's decree excluding Christians from the teaching 
 profession. This enthusiasm was not always healthful, as it limited 
 the range of interests with the most cramping effects. Macrobius 
 for example devotes himself to Virgil (whom he does not really 
 understand) and only touches his own day in Neo-Platonism. He 
 knows something of Christianity, but his culture forbids his men- 
 tioning it. When all is weighed, perhaps Ammianus, with all his 
 naive " readings of Antiquity " and " sayings of Tully " and his 
 wonderful style, is as honest and wholesome a man as any who 
 wrote in the century. And he had seen life and death as they are, 
 before he began his studies. It is this contact with reality that 
 lifts Augustine and, in his own way, Sulpicius into a spirit that 
 speaks to the heart. 
 
 Literature was one of the great strongholds of paganism and 
 the other was philosophy. It was not the philosophy 
 of the great days of Greece, and indeed it could not so )hl ' 
 be expected to be. The fall of Greek civic independ- 
 ence, the breaking down of barriers of tribal, communal and 
 religious tradition, and the levelling of mankind under the weight 
 of the immense empires that followed Alexander's conquest of 
 Asia, affected philosophy profoundly. It is hardly saying too much 
 to assert that the philosophers "despaired of the republic" and 
 turned to the individual instead. There were no doubt still 
 Utopias, but kings and armies made them look even more foolish 
 than demagogues and assemblies had done, and the main concern of 
 thought was the sad adaptation of oneself to the new world without 
 landmarks. The schools of Epicurus and the Porch, both appealing 
 directly to the individual man, carried all before them. The Stoics 
 had no disreputable following to give them a bad name and they 
 appealed more to the serious and manly with their doctrine of
 
 12 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 living according to nature. Thus while Epicurus made disciples of 
 honest Romans like Lucretius and Horace, Stoicism had more 
 influence on Rome, particularly affecting the development of 
 Roman law. This is not very surprising when we consider what 
 the Roman character was. 
 
 As in the Greek world, so in the Roman, philosophy became a 
 more important factor in life with the fall of the Republic and the 
 rise of the Empire. There had been many Romans before this 
 interested in philosophy, but now there was no alternative for 
 serious people, except perhaps literature, and that also shews the 
 influence of philosophic teaching. Stoicism had its popular 
 preacher in Seneca, a more genuine exponent in Epictetus, and 
 in Marcus Aurelius its last great example, and he indeed gives us 
 a hint of the change that was coming. 
 
 Mr Pater in his Marias seizes this singularly interesting 
 moment of the world's history, and exhibits to us this great Stoic 
 Emperor with his assiduous sacrifices standing as it were between 
 the two extremes represented by Lucian, the most distressing 
 advocate of the blankest unbelief, and Apuleius the philosopher, 
 the disciple of Plato and the magician, while in the background, 
 as yet without prominence, is the new school gently bringing home 
 to man that his soul is " naturally Christian." The great African 
 who coined this phrase was a younger contemporary of the other 
 three. With Tertullian and with Apuleius lay the future. Lucian 
 might shew his age the rottenness of all its beliefs and mock it 
 for their vanity, and Sextus Empiricus might give a philosophic 
 account of Pyrrho's doctrine of scepticism, but the world swung 
 violently away from them and beyond the cautious and melancholy 
 Marcus. It would believe and it must believe, and a new spirit 
 filled the third century. 
 
 The New Pythagoreanism found its literary exponent in 
 a sophist Philostratus, and its patroness in an 
 
 Aeo-Platonism. . r 
 
 Empress of Syrian extraction. It led the way to 
 the New Platonism, a form of thought that had more and longer 
 influence. Plotinus is its great thinker, Porphyry and larnbli- 
 chus brought it into common life ; nearly all the pagan writers 
 of the fourth century are touched by it, and still later Proclus 
 taught it in Athens and Boethius found it his consolation in 
 prison. 
 
 It owed its popularity to the fact that while retaining for the 
 simple-minded all the gods of all the creeds as legitimate objects
 
 of worship, supporting their service and defending them against 
 attack, it allowed more cultured minds to transcend them 1 and 
 soar unfettered by literalism into an ecstatic communion with the 
 divine beyond all gods. It justified every heathen religion, for all 
 things were emanations from the one divine, and the gods were 
 intermediaries between it and man and deserved man's worship by 
 their larger measure of divinity or real being, and by their benevolent 
 care for men, their weaker brethren or children. Every heathen 
 god had thus his place in a splendid fabric, that reached from 
 Absolute Being down to "the lowest dregs of the universe." Man 
 was not left alone in a godless world to face riddles he could 
 not guess. The world swarmed with gods as it did with demons, 
 divine and beneficent powers contending against the demons 
 of matter. The riddles were now beautiful mysteries man might 
 see into, if he could overcome the divine reticence by a holy 
 abstinence, an even more potent ritual and, more awful still, the 
 strange powers of magic. By all of these man might learn how he 
 could rise from one plane of being to another, ever growing more 
 clear of matter, which was not-being, and ascending gradually into 
 heights of purer and purer existence. It will be readily remarked 
 what freedom this gave the wandering fancy a pantheon wide as 
 the world ; a creed broad enough to include everybody, except 
 Epicureans, for, if Christians would but permit it, Christ might be 
 an emanation as well as Dionysus ; a theory of the universe, 
 superior to reason, far above proof, and remote from the grimy 
 touch of experience. Everybody might believe anything and every- 
 thing, and practise all rituals at once, and thus storm by a holy 
 violence the secrets of all the gods. Naturally then we find very 
 different types of Neo-Platonists, as they incline to this or that 
 side of the general teaching of their school. 
 
 Loose and fanciful thinkers like Julian, pagan antiquarians like 
 Macrobius, conjurers like Maximus, pious and beautiful natures 
 like Praetextatus and Hermes Trismegistus (whoever he was), were 
 all captured and held by this wonderful mixture of philosophy and 
 religion. Stronger men too than they were attracted by it, and it 
 left permanent traces of itself on Augustine's theology. It was 
 the greatest of all heathen systems, recognizing and satisfying 
 
 1 St Augustine (de Vera Religione v. 8) makes the point that in the Church 
 philosophy and religion are entirely at one, while pagan philosophy is really 
 at issue with popular religion. It was at least the aim of the Neo-Platonists 
 to avoid this.
 
 14 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 every impulse and energy of the human mind, except inquiry. It 
 felt the unity of nature, the divinity of man as God's kinsman, the 
 beauty of a morality modelled after God, the appetite of the 
 human heart for God, and something of man's hunger for redemp- 
 tion. It had an explanation for everything, but it was not con- 
 cerned to verify its explanations. Happy in imagination, it had no 
 interest in observation. It was in one way essentially claustral. 
 The common people it left to worship their gods unintelligently. 
 For them it had no communion with the divine, no salvation from 
 sin, no consolation for sorrow. Celsus had long ago sneered at 
 Christianity as a faith for fullers and bakers. Porphyry calmly 
 warns off athletes, soldiers and business men he is not writing for 
 them. The Neo-Platonist thus has the Greek temper still, pre- 
 ferring the life with advantages, and inculcating the old Greek 
 ideal of self-rule, and progress toward a goal to be reached by 
 contemplation. All things are divine in so far as they really exist, 
 so the Neo-Platonist is not properly ascetic. But they are not 
 always quite consistent, and some of them have an Oriental tinge 
 about their views. Evil, they say, is not-being, but here a negative 
 term covers a force felt to be positive, and they have not clearly 
 explained their attitude toward matter. They say that it is 
 failure-to-be, that it is nothing ; but their " flight " from it and 
 their general conduct with regard to it seem to imply that they feel 
 sometimes it is something more. They make guesses at it, but 
 they do not inquire. 
 
 The general effect of Neo-Platonism was, I think, for good. 
 Any belief is better than none, and a great faith, however con- 
 fused, is apt to raise the moral tone. The literature of the fourth 
 century has not the swing and surge of that of the first, but it is 
 gentler and graver and purer. The general mind of man is not 
 so robust, but it feels elements in the problem, which escaped it in 
 its younger and more impetuous days. It cannot solve them, it 
 can hardly state them, but in a confused way it recognizes them as 
 affecting the general solution, and, where once it was dogmatic 
 even to arrogance on the one side, now it instinctively takes the 
 other, feeling it is nearer the truth but not realizing why. So 
 though human nature was the same and people loved pleasures, 
 they sought them after all with more restraint. In no previous 
 century could a historian, without meaning to sneer, have coined 
 the phrase imperialis verecundia. Most of these Emperors were 
 Christian, but Julian morally the peer of the best was a Neo-
 
 Introdiiction 15 
 
 Platonist, and Jovian, the one licentious Emperor, said he was a 
 Christian '. 
 
 Neo-Platonism with its acceptance of dogmata was essentially a 
 religion of disciples. It will be remarked how it fits in with the 
 literary tendencies of the century philosophy and literature ex- 
 plaining each other, both content with transmission, and happy in 
 imitation, neither fertile in fresh discoveries or new ideas. They 
 were alike exhausted. 
 
 So far we have discussed the heathen world, picking up the 
 main threads separately for clearness' sake, and one 
 has been omitted, which now calls for attention. 
 
 Uhurcn. 
 
 The old Jewish prayer, "I thank thee, God, 
 who hast made me a Jew and not a Gentile, a man and not a 
 woman, a free man and not a slave," was repudiated by St Paul 
 in an utterance which expresses a fundamental doctrine of Christi- 
 anity a doctrine to which the Roman Empire with its gradual 
 levelling must have helped thoughtful men. Yet it should be 
 noted that Paul proclaimed all human beings equal in the kingdom 
 of God a century and a half before Caracalla made them equal in 
 the world, and Paul included the slave whom Caracalla did not. 
 The Stoic had already reached the dogma of the equality of all 
 men, and Roman law was slowly working towards it. Thus the 
 tendency of Greek philosophy and Roman imperialism co-operated 
 with the new religion 2 . 
 
 Again, the revival of paganism, of which I have spoken as a 
 reaction against scepticism and despair, may or may not have been 
 affected by the spreading of the Gospel. If not at first it was so at 
 a later time. But here too there was common ground. Both the 
 new paganism and the new gospel were helped by that pressure of 
 circumstances, which drove men to seek in their own hearts for a 
 stronger comfort to meet a more searching need than their fathers 
 had known. This relation between the state of the Empire and 
 
 1 Seeck, it should be said, believes the improved tone of morals to be due 
 largely to the intermixture of German blood and German ideals. Like 
 Gregorovius, he has a high opinion of the German invaders, and they can 
 both present a good case, though when one learns elsewhere that Virgil must 
 be semi- Celtic and Tertullian semi- Semitic, one accepts racial panegyrics with 
 reserve. The English seem to be the only race "whom there are none to 
 praise, And very few to love." 
 
 2 When Tertullian (Apol. 38) said unam omnium rempublicam agnoscimus 
 mimdum, it was at once an expression of the unity of mankind and in some 
 degree of revolt from the narrower conception involved in the Roman 
 Empire.
 
 16 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 the Church should not be forgotten, for it will also help to explain 
 the rapid spread of monachism. 
 
 The Church was thus in contact with the whole life of the 
 Empire, and though it was some time before she could much affect 
 it, it helped to mould her. Her earliest organization was on secular 
 models. She first held property under the law of burial associa- 
 tions. Her bishops were developed out of the presidents of these, 
 and her architecture was in some degree influenced for ever by 
 memories of her catacombs. But more significant were other con- 
 tacts. She soon caught the ear of the philosophical world, some 
 members of which merely sneered, some borrowed from her and 
 some joined her. She had to reckon with all three, and first by 
 the necessity of apologetic against heathen and heretic, and thence 
 by that of a clear presentation to herself of her vital doctrines, she 
 became philosophic. Then by the interaction of thought and 
 organization the office of the bishop gained a new importance, 
 when he became the repository of true doctrine, the test by which 
 doubtful views were to be tried. But the world was wide and there 
 were many churches ; the world was one, and the churches needed 
 some common base and found it in a united episcopate which held 
 truth in solidum, as the converted lawyer said as a corporation. 
 Episcopatus unus est cujus a singulis in solidum pars tenetur 1 . 
 These examples may serve for many that might be brought to shew 
 how not only Greek philosophy, but Roman law, influenced the 
 Church, shaping her theories of government and moulding her 
 theology 2 . 
 
 The State came first into collision with the Church by accident, 
 and merely added a new form of crime to be suppressed to those it 
 knew already. The Christian, according to the statesman, divided 
 families and spoiled trades, and from both causes public disorder 
 resulted. In the next place the Christian by asserting the supre- 
 macy of a higher power than the Emperor's introduced a disturbing 
 element into society, and an" imperium in imperio was not to be 
 tolerated. So efforts were made to extinguish the Church non 
 licet esse ws. Persecution failed because the persecutors were 
 less in earnest about it than the persecuted and had other interests. 
 The last persecution inaugurated by Diocletian and his circle 
 shewed by its failure the solidity of the Church, and it was the real 
 instinct of a statesman that led Constantine to make peace with it. 
 
 1 Cyprian, de Eccl. Cath. Unitate, c. 5. 
 
 2 See Sir Henry Maine, Ancient Law, ch. ix.
 
 Introduction 17 
 
 " By doing so," says Seeley ', " he may be said to have purchased an 
 indefeasible title by a charter. He gave certain liberties and he 
 received in turn passive obedience. He gained a sanction for the 
 Oriental theory of government ; in return he accepted the law of 
 the Church. He became irresponsible to his subjects on condition 
 of becoming responsible to Christ." 
 
 The Nicene Council in 325 was a revolution. The bishops were 
 here recognized by the State as constituting the Church, and as the 
 Church they met to decide what was its faith. Constantine 
 awaited their decision and then made his pronouncement. This 
 was the Christian faith and no other ; consequently all bishops 
 must accept it. A number of new principles were involved here, 
 and many consequences followed. First there was a series of fresh 
 councils to re-try the question, which continued through the cen- 
 tury. And it had to be settled by move and counter-move how 
 far the Emperor was bound to accept the ruling of the Church 
 which he had recognized. 
 
 The battle of the councils was about a diphthong according to 
 one account ; it was a fight between Christianity and paganism 
 according to another. If the Son was 6/x.oovo-ios, he was God while 
 still man that is, the antithesis of God and man is superficial, the 
 ideal man being at the same time God's best expression of himself ; 
 but if the Son was o/xoiowtos, he was not God but a creature, a 
 demigod perhaps or a Neo-Platonist emanation, and neither on the 
 other hand was he man. It is no wonder that the conflict raged. 
 
 There were other results of the peace between the State and 
 the Church. It was no longer dangerous to be a Christian, but it 
 was even profitable, and the stalwart Christians Diocletian had 
 killed were replaced by time-servers and half-converted pagans. I 
 do not say there was less Christian life at once, but at least the 
 average Christian was of a lower type. This soon meant the 
 general lowering of ideals, and was followed by the inevitable 
 reaction, just as in former days the succession of easy times 
 to difficult had meant first a lower tone in the Catholic 
 Church, and then a Montanist and a Novatian revolt. Now 
 the revolt took another form. Novatianism was conceived by an 
 essentially Roman mind which worked from a new point of view 
 to a new organization. The new revolt was more Oriental in 
 character. 
 
 1 Lectures and Essays, iii. 
 G. 2
 
 18 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 We have seen how Neo-Platonism had, like most serious forms 
 of faith, a leaning to self-discipline which might fall into asceticism. 
 Every eastern worship which the Roman world knew, except 
 Judaism and Christianity, laid stress on asceticism. Celibacy had 
 early invaded the Church, and Montanism had brought in asceticism. 
 But monachism was a combination of both which was new to the 
 Church in the fourth century, and its entrance coincides with the 
 conversion of the monasteries of Serapis. It must not be lightly 
 supposed that this was the source of the monastic movement in the 
 Church, but rather it gave a new idea which fitted well with tend- 
 encies long since at work. The Life of Antony is a Greek novel 
 telling about a Coptic monk, a simple tale but on fire for those 
 prepared for it. It offered in the desert a holy life, dependent on 
 grace alone, victorious over all devils, Neo-Platonist or otherwise, 
 free from all the cares and sorrows of a sinful world and unvexed by 
 the worldliness of a sinful church. For though Antony is habit- 
 ually respectful to clergy and bishops, other monks, e.g. Sulpicius 
 Severus, thought and spoke less well of them. The feelings that 
 moved the unknown author of Antony and Sulpicius were shared 
 by thousands. In a world of distress and despotism, in a church 
 engaged in perennial debates about a question the simple-minded 
 could not fathom, the ascetic ideal, preached by Neo-Platouist and 
 Christian, triumphed and carried mouachism with it. Neither was 
 a part of primitive Christianity any more than the passion for relics 
 and pilgrimages and the building of martyries, which invaded the 
 Church from much the same quarters at the same time. 
 
 In the essays that follow I shall try to shew how the threads 
 here separated interlace in the lives and thoughts of men and 
 women. In this man one influence overweighs the rest ; in that, 
 another, but none wholly escape them all, while in some men all 
 the influences of their time seem to meet and require expression. 
 In Augustine, for example, we have the rhetorician, the man of 
 letters, the Neo-Platonist, the admirer of Antony, the Christian 
 believer in grace, the Christian bishop, the Christian statesman and 
 the thoroughly Roman constitutionalist of the Church. 
 
 It is hard to form a completely unprejudiced judgment, but the 
 conclusion is forced upon me when I survey the fourth century, its 
 interests and its energies, that the Church had absorbed all that 
 was then vital in the civilized world. It had not assimilated all of 
 the beauty and wisdom of the great Classical period, for much of
 
 Introduction 19 
 
 them was lost to that age and was not to be recovered for cen- 
 turies. The Church of that day had her weaknesses, she made 
 grave mistakes and she was not without sins that bore bitter fruit, 
 but she rose superior to all the world around her, and to whatever 
 sphere of work and thought we turn, literature, philosophy, ad- 
 ministration, we find her marked off from all her environment by 
 one characteristic it had not and she had life and the promise of 
 life. 
 
 22
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 AMMIANUS MARCELLINUS 
 
 I have at last begun my historical labours.... The materials for an 
 amusing narrative are immense. I shall not be satisfied unless I produce 
 something which shall for a few days supersede the last fashionable novel 
 on the tables of young ladies. 
 
 MACAULAY Letter to Macvey Napier 
 
 A MAN must have fine qualities so to write the history of his 
 own times that his judgments on his contemporaries shall be sus- 
 tained on appeal to the court of History, and posterity, after fifteen 
 centuries, accept them still. He must be cool and dispassionate in 
 his survey, and yet sympathetic. He should be alive to every 
 aspect of the problems that beset his fellows, and take into account 
 every advantage or disadvantage arising from age and environment. 
 Commonly to attain the true perspective one must stand a century 
 or at least a generation away. But in the fourth century, in the 
 midst of the quarrels of Arian and Nicene, through all the turmoils 
 of civil strife and barbarian war, lived and wrote a man, whose 
 verdict on most of the men of his time is with some reservations 
 substantially our own. 
 
 Ammianus Marcellinus 1 was born of Greek parents at Antioch 2 , 
 
 1 The Abbe Gimazane, not finding " fifteen consecutive pages " on 
 Ammianus, has written 400 in his A . M. sa vie et son ceuvre (Toulouse 1889), 
 a work of some interest with some rather improbable theories. Max Biidinger's 
 A. M. u. die Eigenart seines Geschichtswerkes is careful but too severe. The 
 various historians of the period, and writers on Julian, generally refer to him 
 more gratefully and, I think, more truly. 
 
 2 We are curiously reminded of his birthplace when he speaks of Julian's 
 invective against the Antiochenes (the Misopogon), which he wrote " in a 
 rage. ..adding a good deal to the truth." Socrates, the fairest of Church 
 historians as became a lawyer of Constantinople, lets the book pass with the
 
 Ammianus Marcellinus 21 
 
 somewhere about the date of the Nicene Council, 325 A.D. It is 
 not possible, nor is it necessary, to name the exact year. More we 
 cannot say than that he was of noble birth. Sooner or later he 
 was as well read a man as any of his day, but we cannot say what 
 his early education was. We first find him in the army among the 
 Protectores Domestici, for admission to whose ranks personal beauty 
 and noble birth were necessary '. He tells us himself incidentally 
 that at one critical moment he found it not pure gain to be 
 ingenuus*. 
 
 We first find him in 353 at Nisibis, in Mesopotamia, on the 
 staff of Ursicinus 3 , to which position the Emperor Constantius had 
 appointed him. Ursicinus had been in the East for ten years 4 , we 
 learn, without disaster, in spite of the rawness and inefficiency of 
 his troops. Four years after we first see him, Ammianus includes 
 himself among the adulescentes* who were sent back to the East 
 with Ursicinus, while the older men were promoted. Men vary so 
 much in their ideas of what is young and what is old, that it would 
 be hard to guess his exact age in 357. 
 
 He saw a good deal of travel and warfare first and last. How 
 long he was with Ursicinus during his first period of Eastern service 
 we cannot say. However, in 353 whisperers round the Court 
 suggested to the greedy ears of Constantius that it might be 
 dangerous to leave Ursicinus in the East after the recall of Gallus 
 Caesar, and he was summoned with all speed to Milan to " discuss 
 urgent business." All conveniences for rapid travel were supplied 6 , 
 and with long stages they made all haste to Milan to find they 
 had come for nothing. Perhaps they were not greatly surprised. 
 It was Constantius' method. Gallus had been hurried home in the 
 same way to have his head cut off. 
 
 The next thing was the trial of Ursicinus for treason. Con- 
 stantius was jealous 7 , and the creatures of the Court whispered. 
 His friends at once deserted him for men in the ascendant, "just 
 as when the magistrates in due course succeed one another, the 
 
 remark that "it left indelible stigmata on Antioch. " Sozomen says it was 
 " excellent and very witty." Zosimus, a heathen, says it was " most witty, 
 and blended such bitterness with its irony as to make the Antiochenes 
 infamous everywhere." After twice reading the Misopogon, I must say my 
 estimate is nearest that of Ammianus. 
 
 1 Procopius, Hist. Arcana, 24. 2 xix. 8, 11. 
 
 3 xiv. 9, 1. 4 xviii. 6, 2. 
 
 6 xvi. 10, 21. 6 xiv. 11, 5. 
 
 7 Cf. Julian's comment on him; Or. vii. 233 c ^ irpbs TOI>J <f>i\ovs dirurria 
 ruined him.
 
 22 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 lictors pass to the new from the old '." Ammianus could hardly 
 express his contempt more significantly. A plot was actually 
 made to kidnap and kill Ursicinus untried. It seems the Emperor 
 was cognizant of it ; a defect in our text may be used to defend 
 him, but he was quite capable of the treachery. Delay prevented 
 its execution. 
 
 In 355 they left Milan 2 under circumstances which seem 
 strange perhaps, but are characteristic of the age. There was an 
 officer in Gaul, Silvanus by name, loyal enough to the Emperor, but 
 he had enemies, and they went to work in the usual way. They 
 babbled to Constantius of treason till the wretched Silvanus found 
 his only hope of life lay in treason a desperate card to play, but 
 his only one and he boldly proclaimed himself Emperor. This 
 was a thunderbolt indeed. But Constantius was not at a loss. He 
 despatched Ursicinus (with Ammianus in his train) to quell the 
 rebel, prepared to be glad to hear of the death of either of his 
 generals. A mere handful of men went with Ursicinus, for craft or 
 treachery was to be the tool employed. Ammianus felt, and they 
 all felt, that they were in the position of gladiators condemned to 
 fight beasts in the arena. They had to make haste to keep the 
 rebellion from spreading to Italy, and so successful were they that 
 Silvanus' reign was one of only four weeks 3 . They went, with a 
 keen sense of their risk, to Silvanus as friends; they heard his 
 complaints of unworthy men being promoted over his head and 
 theirs ; and after much discussion in private, and many nervous 
 changes of plan, they managed to tamper with the troops. In a 
 day or two at daybreak a body of armed men burst out, slew 
 Silvanus' guards, and cut down himself as he fled to a church for 
 safety. Thus fell at Cologne " an officer of no mean merits, done 
 to death by slanderous tongues, so immeshed in his absence that 
 he could protect himself only by going to the extremest measures." 
 Such is Ammianus' comment on a wretched affair which gave him 
 nothing but disgust. Constantius, however, was so delighted as to 
 feel himself " sky high and superior to all human risks now 4 ." 
 
 Ursicinus and Ammianus remained in Gaul for a year perhaps 5 . 
 In 356 they saw at Rheims the Caesar Julian, who had been sent to 
 Gaul, as they had been themselves, to crush Constantius' enemies, 
 
 1 xv. 2, 3. 2 xv. 5. 
 
 3 Julian, Or. ii. 98 c YeXotos dX^flws rtipavvos KO.I rpayixos. Julian says 
 Constantius spared Silvanus' son afterwards. 
 
 4 xv. 5, 37. 5 xvi. 2, 8.
 
 Ammianus Marcellinus 23 
 
 and if possible meet his death in doing it. Towards the end of the 
 year came a welcome despatch summoning them to Sirmium 1 , 
 whence the Emperor sent Ursicinus once more to the East and 
 Ammianus with him. 
 
 They were two years in the East, and meanwhile plots thickened. 
 " The Court, hammering as they say the same anvil day and night 
 at the bidding of the eunuchs, held Ursicinus before the gaze of 
 the suspicious and timid Emperor as it were a Gorgon's head 2 /' 
 assuring him that his general "aspired higher." Chief among the 
 enemies was the rascal chamberlain, Eusebius, "with whom," says 
 Ammianus bitterly, " Constantius had considerable influence"; and 
 the "piping voice of the eunuch" and the "too open ears of the 
 prince" meant ruin for the brave soldier. But a good deal was 
 to come first. 
 
 War with the Persians was imminent. A Roman subject of 
 rank and some knowledge, harassed as Silvanus had been, though 
 by smaller enemies, found life impossible within Roman frontiers, 
 and fled to the Persians, and there he and his knowledge were 
 welcome. A Persian invasion followed. Meanwhile the order had 
 reached Ursicinus at Samosata to yield his command to one 
 Sabinianus and come West 3 . The Syrians heard with consterna- 
 tion, and all but laid violent hands on him to keep him 4 . But 
 Ursicinus and his staff had to go, and they crossed the Taurus, 
 and after a short delay had travelled through Asia Minor, and were 
 already in Europe when fresh orders turned them back whence 
 they came. Sabinianus was recognized by the Emperor to stand in 
 need of a soldier at his side. Back they went to Nisibis, and there 
 they found their "little fellow gaping" (oscitante homunculo} 6 . 
 Throughout the campaign this seems to have been Sabinianus' 
 attitude. He visited Edessa and spent time among the "tombs," 
 "as if, once he had made his peace with the dead, nothing were 
 to be feared 6 ." I suppose Ammianus means shrines and martyr- 
 ies 7 . Abgar, king of Edessa, so a very old story goes, wrote to 
 our Lord and had a letter from Him, both letters being preserved 
 for us by Eusebius. In the Doctrine of Addai we have the whole 
 story of our Lord's sending Addai to Edessa, the healing of Abgar 
 
 1 xvi. 10, 21. 2 xviii. 4, 2. 
 
 3 xviii. 4, 7. 4 xviii. 6, 2. 
 
 5 xviii. 6, 8. 6 xviii. 7, 7. 
 
 7 It was believed by some that Julian, on his Anabasis, avoided the place 
 for the very fact of its early Christian associations. (Sozoraen, vi. 1.) It 
 also happened to be out of his way.
 
 24 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 and the conversion of the whole place with such success and speed 
 that they read the Diatessaron in the churches nearly a century 
 before it was made. As our Lord's reputed letter or a copy of it 
 was shewn to St Silvia twenty years later than this, it is just 
 possible this relic occupied Sabinianus' attention. 
 
 Leaving Sabinianus to his devotions, Ursicinus had to take 
 what steps he might without hindrance. And now we are in the 
 thick of the campaign. It was reported at Nisibis that the enemy 
 had crossed the Tigris and that plundering bands were scouring the 
 country 1 . "So," says Ammianus (and I translate his account of an 
 incident commonplace enough perhaps, but illustrative of the times 
 and the region), " to secure the roads we set out at a trot, and at 
 the second milestone from the city we saw a child of gentle appear- 
 ance, wearing a necklace, and about eight years old we supposed, 
 sitting crying on the middle of a bank. He was the son of a free 
 man, he said, and his mother, as she fled in hot haste for fear of 
 the enemy who was hard upon them, had found herself burdened 
 with him in her panic and left him there alone. The general was 
 moved to pity, and at his bidding I took him up in front of me on 
 my horse and returned to the city, and meanwhile swarms of 
 marauders were surrounding the walls far and wide. Alarmed at 
 the idea of an ambush, I set the boy within a half-closed postern, 
 and rode hard to rejoin our troop in some terror; and I was all 
 but caught; for a hostile squad of horse in pursuit of a certain 
 Abdigidus, a tribune, and his groom, caught the slave while the 
 master escaped, and, as I galloped by, they had just heard in reply 
 to their question, "Who was the officer who had ridden out?" that 
 Ursicinus had a little before reached the city, and was now making 
 for Mount Izala. They slew their informant, gathered together in 
 some numbers, and, without taking rein, made after us. 
 
 " Thanks to the speed of my animal, I outrode them and at 
 Amudis, a weak fort, I found my comrades carelessly lying about 
 with their horses grazing. I flung out my arm, and waving the 
 ends of my cloak on high (the usual signal) I let them know the 
 enemy was at hand. Joining them I rode off" with them, my horse 
 already in distress. What terrified us was the full moon and the 
 dead level of the country, which offered no hiding place in case of 
 pressing need, as no trees or bushes or anything but short grass was 
 to be seen. We therefore devised this plan. A lighted torch was 
 
 1 xviii. 6, 1016.
 
 Ammianus Marcellinus 25 
 
 set on a single horse and tied so as not to fall. The animal without 
 a rider was sent off toward the left, while we made for the foot of 
 the mountains on the right, so that the Persians, in the belief that 
 it was the torch to light the general as he quietly rode along, might 
 go in that direction. But for this device we should have been 
 surrounded and captured and come into the enemy's hands. 
 
 "Escaped from this peril we came to a wooded spot planted 
 with vines and apple trees, Meiacarire by name, so called from its 
 cold springs. Its inhabitants had fled and we found but one man 
 hid away in a corner a soldier. He was brought to the general, 
 and in his terror gave confused answers which made us suspect 
 him. In fear of our threats, he sets forth the real state of affairs, 
 and tells us he was born at Paris in Gaul and had served in the 
 cavalry, but to escape punishment for some offence he had deserted 
 to the Persians. On his character being established he had married 
 and had a family, and had often been sent as a spy among us and 
 brought back true information. He had now been sent by Tamsapor 
 and Nohodar, the nobles at the head of the marauding forces, and 
 was on his way back to tell what he had learnt. On hearing this 
 and what he knew of what was going on elsewhere, we slew him." 
 
 I pass over a reconnoitring expedition made by Ammianus, and 
 the disgraceful loss of an important bridge through the carelessness 
 of a force of cavalry fresh from Illyricum, and the rout which 
 followed, in which Ursicinus' party got separated, Ammianus escap- 
 ing to Amid 1 . The path up to the gate was narrow, and he spent 
 a curious night jammed in a crowd of living and dead, with a 
 soldier in front of him held erect by the press though his head was 
 halved to the neck. Then followed the siege of Amid, the story of 
 which told in his nineteenth book may rank for vividness and 
 interest with the sieges of Quebec or Louisbourg. Remember that 
 the story is told by a soldier, an eye-witness and the man of all 
 men then living most fitted to tell such a tale. 
 
 The Persian army moved on to Amid 2 , "and when next dawn 
 
 1 xviii. 8, 1114. 
 
 2 Amid (now Diarbekr) on the Tigris was one of the most important places 
 strategically and commercially in the country, though less so than Nisibis, 
 which was the key of the situation. This should be borne in mind when we 
 come to Jovian's surrender. That Diarbekr is still the seat of the patriarch 
 of the Jacobites shews its ancient importance (Stanley, Eastern Church, i.). 
 It is now a town of 70,000 to 80,000 people, Turks, Kurds and Armenians, 
 but not many Greeks, a great centre for trade, and capital of the vilayet of 
 the same name (Diar, land; Bekr, Abu Bekr, the early caliph). It is sur- 
 rounded by ancient walls which stand some seventy feet high, and make it 
 the most remarkable place of the kind in Turkey.
 
 26 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 gleamed, all that could be seeii glittered with starry arms, and iron 
 cavalry filled plains and hills." The phrase is curious, as many of 
 his phrases are. The sunlight caught a thousand bright surfaces 
 and the reflexions suggested the starry heavens. The iron cavalry 
 are the cataphracts or men in armour mounted on horses in armour. 
 We hear a good deal of them in Ammianus and Julian, who com- 
 pares them to equestrian statues. " Riding his horse, and towering 
 over all, the King himself (magnificently if tersely described as ipse 
 without another word) rode down his lines, wearing as a diadem 
 a golden rani's head set with gems, exalted with every kind of 
 dignity and the attendance of divers races." He was intent on a 
 siege, and, though the renegade advised against it, the " divinity of 
 heaven " (caeleste numen) ruled that all his force should be concen- 
 trated on this corner of the Roman world and the rest should escape. 
 Sapor the king in a lordly way advanced to the walls, called 
 for a surrender, and nearly lost his life for his pains, and retired 
 raging as if sacrilege had been committed. Next day a subject 
 king, Grumbates, came near losing his life on the same errand, his 
 son falling at his side. Over the prince's body there was a fight, 
 which recalled the death of Patroclus. The Persians at last bore 
 him off and for seven days he lay in state while they held his 
 funeral, feasting and dancing and singing sad dirges in lamentation 
 for the royal youth, much as women wail for Adonis. At last they 
 burnt the corpse and gathered his bones to send home to his own 
 people, and after a rest of two days war began again with a great 
 display of Sapor's troops, cataphracts, elephants and all 1 . Next 
 day Grumbates, in the character of a fetialis, hurled a blood- 
 stained spear at the city, and fighting began. Catapults, "scor- 
 pions" (for hurling great stones) and engines of all kinds 2 came 
 into play, and many were the deaths on both sides. The night 
 fell and both armies kept watch under arms, while the hills rang as 
 "our men extolled the prowess of Constantius Caesar as lord of the 
 world and the universe, and the Persians hailed Sapor as saansaan 
 (king of kings) and pirosen (conqueror in war) 3 ." 
 
 1 This proceeding, strange as it may seem, occurs again at Daras, 530 A.D. 
 On the second day fighting began and Belisarius won a great victory. 
 
 8 Elsewhere (xxiii. 4) Ammianua gives a description of these various 
 machines. 
 
 3 Mr E. G. Browne informs me that this is a locus classicus with Orientalists, 
 which some have tried very needlessly to emend. The passage is historical 
 proof that the official language of the Sasanian kings was not pronounced 
 as it is written, but for Aramaic words in the script their Persian equivalents 
 were read. Saansaan is Shahin-Shah, pirosen Firuz.
 
 Ammianus Marcellinus 27 
 
 Before dawn fighting began again. "So many evils stood 
 around us, that it was not to win deliverance but with a passionate 
 desire to die bravely we burned." At last night put an end to the 
 slaughter, but brought little help for the wounded. There were 
 seven legions in the city and a great crowd of country people 
 beside the citizens, and there was no room or leisure for the burial 
 of the dead. 
 
 Meanwhile Ursicinus was chafing to go to the rescue, but 
 Sabinianus " sticking to the tombs " would neither let him go nor 
 go himself. It was believed Coustantius was to blame for this in 
 his anxiety " that, even though it ruined the provinces, this man of 
 war should not be reported as the author of any memorable deed 
 nor the partner in one either." 
 
 Now came pestilence from the bodies of the slain, and for ten 
 days it raged till rain fell and stopped it. All the time the siege 
 was pushed on, and the defenders' difficulties were increased by the 
 presence of two Celtic legions fresh from Gaul and itching to be 
 "up and at them." It took a good deal to hold them inside the 
 walls at all. A deserter betrayed a secret passage leading to a 
 tower, and, while engaged with foes without, the defenders suddenly 
 found some seventy archers shooting at them from a post of 
 vantage within the walls, and with difficulty dislodged them. A 
 half day's rest, and then " with the dawn we see a countless throng, 
 taken on the capture of the fort Ziata, being led away to the 
 enemy's land, thousands of men going into captivity, many among 
 them frail with age, and aged women ; and if weary with their 
 long march they failed, all love of life now gone, they were left 
 hamstrung." The sight was too much for the Celtic legions who 
 raged like beasts of prey in their cages, and drew their swords on 
 the gates which had been barred to keep them in 1 . They were 
 afraid " lest the city should fall and they should be blotted out 
 without a single brilliant exploit, or if it escaped it should be said 
 that the Gauls did nothing worth while to shew their spirit. We 
 were quite at a loss how to face them in their rage but at last 
 decided (and got a reluctant consent to it from them)" that they 
 should make a sortie on a dark night. The dark night came and 
 
 1 Cf. Silius, Punica viii. 17, on Hannibal's Gauls : 
 
 vaniloquum Celtae genus ac mutabile mentis 
 rcspectare domes : maerebant caede sine ulla 
 insolitum sibi ~be.Ua geri, siccasque cruore 
 inter tela siti Mavortis hebescere dextras.
 
 28 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 with a prayer for heavenly protection the Gauls sallied out to the 
 Persian camp, and but for some accident of a step heard or a 
 dying man's groan caught they would have killed Sapor ; but Sapor 
 had twenty years of mischief before him yet. 
 
 Towers and elephants in turn were brought against the city, 
 but the "scorpions" were too much for both; and the siege 
 dragged on so that Sapor created a precedent and rushed into the 
 fray in person. At last banks were raised, and the counter work 
 put up by the besieged came crashing down as if there had been an 
 earthquake ; and the end had come. After a siege of seventy-three 
 days the Persians had their way open, and now it was every man 
 for himself, and all day long the streets were shambles. 
 
 " So at eventide, lurking with two others in an out-of-the-way 
 part of the city under the cover of night's darkness, I escaped by 
 a postern ; and, thanks to an acquaintance with the country, now 
 all dark, and the speed of my companions, I at last reached the 
 tenth mile-stone. Here we halted and rested a little ; and just as 
 we were starting again, and I was giving out under the fatigue of 
 walking, for as a noble I was unused to it, I saw a dreadful sight, 
 but to me in my weary state it was to be a relief exceedingly 
 timely." It was a runaway horse trailing its groom behind it, and 
 as the dead body checked its speed, it was quickly caught, and 
 Ammianus mounted. After a journey through the desert they 
 reached the Euphrates to see Roman cavalry in flight with Persians 
 in hot pursuit. "All hope of escape lay in speed, and through 
 thickets and woods we made for the higher hills, and so we came 
 to Melitina, a town of lesser Armenia, and there we found the 
 general and his staff setting out for Antioch." 
 
 After these adventures Ammianus probably went West again 
 with Ursicinus, who, as magister peditum, was kept near Constantius 
 till slander prevailed and drove him into private life, and we hear 
 no more of him, though his faithful follower tells us that a son of 
 his was slain at Adrianople in 378 '. 
 
 Ammianus had by no means seen his last of war in the East. 
 In some capacity he went with his hero, the Emperor Julian, on 
 the fatal expedition against Sapor in 363. From point to point 
 we can follow their Anabasis in the twenty-third and twenty-fourth 
 books, and ever and again we find the verb in the first person, 
 vidimus, venimus. It is, however, needless to trace their march, as 
 
 1 xxxi. 13, 18.
 
 Ammicmus Marcellinm 29 
 
 Ammianus records practically nothing done by himself, though we 
 may well believe he was not the least interested of the men who 
 gazed .on the wall paintings of battle and the chase at Coche 1 . 
 Wherever he went we seem to see him with eyes open, quietly 
 taking note of men and things. 
 
 When Julian was brought wounded to his tent, is it hazarding 
 too much to suppose that Ammianus was at his side, and heard 
 the manly farewell he made to his officers ? Ammianus, unlike 
 other Latin historians we have read, does not make speeches for 
 his characters to deliver. With very few exceptions, if any, the 
 speeches he reports are formal, set harangues delivered by emperors 
 at coronations the sort of utterance which is read from paper 
 and preserved after delivery; and though he may very properly 
 have condensed Julian's words, he is not the man to have invented 
 them 2 . At all events he says nothing about Vicisti Galilaee, which 
 is almost enough of itself to stamp that story a legend 3 . 
 
 Whether he had a share in the deliberations which led to 
 Jovian's election as emperor he does not say 4 . If he had he was 
 certainly not proud of it, for he tacitly apologises for the choice 
 made " when things were at the last gasp 5 ." He shared the 
 privations and the shame of the retreat, and a burning indignation 
 betrays itself in the calm historian. Jovian accepted Sapor's terms 
 and surrendered five provinces, including the all-important city of 
 Nisibis, "when ten times over the thing to do was to fight 6 ." The 
 surrender was made " without any hesitation," and we may picture 
 the feelings of the old soldier, whose own two leaders had been men 
 indeed, when he penned the words sine cunctatione tradidit 7 . It 
 was indeed a pudenda pax*. He witnessed the rage and grief of 
 the betrayed Nisibis, when Jovian to save his soul respected his 
 oath so far as to forbid the inhabitants to stand up for themselves, 
 
 1 xxiv. 6, 3. Coche was practically a suburb of Ctesiphon the Persian 
 capital, lying across the Tigris. 
 
 2 Gibbon believes the speech to be authentic, but wickedly suggests that 
 Julian must have prepared it in case of an emergency. Vollert, K. Julian's 
 relig. u. phil. Ueberz. p. 94, says Reville and Eanke do not accept this speech. 
 
 3 Theodoret (c. 430) tells the story. Socrates and Sozomen, historians of 
 a higher type and about the same date, do not hint at it. Vollert (p. 95) 
 accepts it as very like Julian. 
 
 4 It has been conjectured that he was himself the honoratior aliquis miles 
 who urged postponement. Gibbon (c. 24) and Hodgkin (i. 119). 
 
 5 xxv. 5, 7. 
 
 6 xxv. 7, 10. Cum pugnari decies expediret. Joshua the Stylite, c. 7, 
 says Nisibis was surrendered for 120 years, but at the end of this period the 
 Persians would not restore it a local tradition perhaps. 
 
 7 xxv. 7, 11. 8 xxvii. 12, 1.
 
 30 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 as they were quite capable of doing, independently of Roman 
 support 1 , and looked on, Roman Emperor as he was, while a Persian 
 noble "hung out from the citadel the standard of his people." 
 
 He tells us of his return to Antioch, and then we are left to 
 conjecture where he went and what he did. He was writing 
 history, and personal details would have been biography; and he 
 more than once protests that history cannot mention everybody's 
 name, nor record what everybody did. Minutiae ignobiles are 
 outside its sphere. Where he has mentioned himself it has always 
 been because he was an eye-witness 2 . At some time or other he 
 visited Egypt, to which visit he twice alludes, once with a quiet 
 vidimus 3 , once visa pleraque narrantes*. He also saw Sparta, and 
 took note of the effects of an earthquake which had stranded a 
 ship two miles inland 5 . 
 
 Though he does not say so himself, we know at once from a 
 letter Libanius 6 wrote him in 390 or 391, and from the vivid and 
 satirical pictures he draws, that he lived in Rome, and wrote and 
 read his history there. Seemingly he did not like Rome, and it 
 has been suggested that Libanius' letter was meant to encourage 
 him. At any rate the great orator says that the honour Rome 
 does the historian, and the delight she takes in his work, do credit 
 to Antioch and his fellow-citizens. 
 
 In 371 he had the ill luck to be back in Antioch 7 at the time 
 when the affair of Theodorus was at its height. The story may be 
 told quickly he tells it us in full himself. Some men, speculating 
 as to who was to be Emperor after Valens, tried a sort of plan- 
 chette to find out, and learning that his name began with the four 
 letters EOA, they leapt to the conclusion that it was their friend 
 Theodorus, a man of high rank 8 . Theodorus heard it, and perhaps 
 was half inclined to accept a manifest destiny quo fata trahunt 
 retrakuntque sequamur but the day planchette was tried was an 
 evil day for him and for all concerned, and many more beside who 
 were innocent. Attempts had been made on Valens' life before, 
 and this time at least he left nothing undone to discourage them 
 
 1 They were quite equal to this as Sapor could testify, for they beat him 
 off in 340, though he had got so far as to make a breach in their wall. 
 
 2 Gimazane (p. 54) is quite right in saying, " C'est un des rares ecrivains qui 
 savent parler du moi sans le rendre haissable." 
 
 3 xvii. 4, 6. 4 xxii. 15, 1. 
 
 5 xxvi. 10, 19. A ship suffered this at Galveston, Texas, in Sept. 1900. 
 
 6 Ep. 983. 7 xxix. 1. 
 
 8 The man of fate was Theodosius, not Theodorus; so after all the prophecy 
 came true. He was co-opted as Emperor by Gratian in 378.
 
 Ammianus Marcellinus 31 
 
 for the future. A reign of terror followed. " We all at that time 
 crept about as it were in Cimmerian darkness, as frightened as the 
 guests of Dionysius who saw the swords hanging each by a horse 
 hair over their heads 1 ." There was probably no man with so little 
 taste for rebellion in the empire. Writing of treason trials under 
 Constantius he says 2 : "No sensible person condemns a vigorous 
 inquiry into these matters; for we do not deny that the safety 
 of a legitimate Emperor, the champion and defender of good 
 citizens, to which others are indebted for their safety, ought to be 
 protected by the associated enthusiasm of all men. To uphold this 
 the more strongly the Cornelian laws allow in treason cases no 
 exemption of rank from torture even if it cost blood." This is 
 loyal enough, "but unbridled exultation in suffering is not 
 befitting." He knew, and few better, what it meant to the empire 
 to have no Emperor. That lesson was learnt in the desert and at 
 Nisibis ; and when after some months of tarnished glory Jovian 
 died, the Roman soldiers were right when they forced Valentinian 
 on his election at once to name a colleague. 
 
 While Ammianus lived in Rome he wrote his great history 3 . It 
 consisted of thirty-one books, of which the first thirteen are lost. 
 His work began with the reign of Nerva, 96 A.D., where Tacitus 
 stopped; but in book xiv. we are in the year 353, and book xxxi. 
 ends with the death of Valens at Adrianople in 378. It has been 
 suggested 4 that there was not room in thirteen books on this scale 
 for 250 years, and that perhaps, like Tacitus, he wrote two 
 historical works, and that the history, eighteen books of which 
 we still have, was that of his own times, while another is lost. 
 This is a large supposition, and, I think, not very necessary 5 . At 
 the beginning of book xv. he announces that what follows will be 
 done limatius, which may refer as much to the matter as to the 
 style, and would then imply greater detail. As I believe there 
 is no external evidence of any kind, every one may freely form his 
 
 1 xxix. 2, 4. 
 
 2 xix. 12, 17. 
 
 3 An English version was brought out by Philemon Holland, of the Citie 
 of Coventrie, in 1609, in a flowing, if free, style. Pope sets Holland's trans- 
 lations (many and mainly historical) in "the library of Dulness," but Abp 
 Trench thinks very highly of them, and his is probably the more serious 
 judgment. 
 
 4 By Hugo Michael. Biidinger, p. 4, rejects the theory. 
 
 5 Zosiinus, in his history of Home's decline and fall, devotes -one book, 
 his first, to the first three hundred years of the empire, and gradually gives 
 more space to events as he approaches his subject proper.
 
 32 Life and Letters in tlie Fourth Century 
 
 own opinion from that passage, and the little epilogue at the end 
 of book xxxi. 1 
 
 We do not know anything of his death. If his reference in 
 book xxix to a young officer, Theodosius, princeps postea perspec- 
 tissimus, implies that Theodosius' reign and life are done (as it 
 may), then Ammianus died in 395 or later. The latest date to 
 which an event he mentions can be assigned is Aurelius Victor's 
 Praefecture of the City in 391. In speaking of the Serapeum he 
 says nothing of its destruction in 391 by a mob, but he deals with 
 the Serapeum in book xxii., and we have nine books on later 
 history, so this gives us no further help. However it is quite 
 unimportant when he died. He lived long enough to leave man- 
 kind a legacy, for which we cannot be too grateful. 
 
 As all we know of him is gathered from his history, we may 
 consider his work and himself together. Let us begin with his 
 epilogue, as good an account of him as there is: "All this from 
 the principate of Nerva Caesar to the death of Valens, I, a soldier 
 in my day and a Greek, have set forth according to the measure of 
 my powers. Truth being the boast of my work, never, I think, when 
 1 knew it, have I dared to corrupt it by silence or falsehood. What 
 follows, let better men write, in the flower of life and learning ; and 
 when, if they so choose, they undertake it, I bid them sharpen their 
 tongues for a higher style." Elsewhere too he promises truth to 
 his readers siqui erunt unquam, as he modestly says. 
 
 He was a man of very wide reading, as his constant references 
 to literature shew. They are so many in fact that it has been 
 surmised he did his learning late in life. He is evidently proud 
 of it, and the value he put upon it may be read in his apology 
 for Valens, who had " a countrified intelligence, unpolished by any 
 readings of antiquity 2 ." Valens again shewed "a very unbridled 
 exultation in various tortures (of supposed criminals), being 
 unaware of that saying of Tully's, which teaches that they are 
 unbappy men who think everything permitted them 3 ." It is quite 
 surprising how many Imperial and other crimes are sins of ignorance. 
 Sometimes it is that the Emperor forgot or had not read his 
 Aristotle, but we hear most of Tully. He is rarely at a loss for a 
 historical parallel in the annals of Rome or Greece. 
 
 When he sums up the character of a good Emperor, he first of 
 
 1 It is also believed by some that one book is missing before book xxxi. 
 
 2 xxx. 4, 2 Subagreste ingenium nullis vetustatis lectionibus expolitum. 
 
 3 xxvi. 10, 12 Sententiae illius Tullianae ignarus.
 
 Ammianus Marcellinus 33 
 
 all tells us his faults and quite freely too and then sets forth his 
 good points that they may leave the stronger impression, while 
 with a bad Emperor he reverses the process. Let us follow his 
 example and pay him the compliment implied by first giving an 
 account of his foibles. 
 
 Critics almost without exception abuse his style, some even 
 finding fault with him for trying to write in Latin at all 1 , and 
 certainly his style is curious and peculiar to him. It reminds one 
 somehow of Apuleius, though it is less successful 2 . His vocabulary 
 is good in itself, but his composition and grouping have a very odd 
 effect. Partly it may be, as is suggested, the disturbing influence 
 of Greek. Partly it is because he aims a little too much at rhe- 
 toric. The manner is more suited to the novel than to the history. 
 In fact his style is rather more modern 3 than classical, so modern 
 as to be nearly journalistic at times. It abounds in metaphor 
 "The trumpets of internal disaster were sounding 4 "; "the horrify- 
 ing gang of furies lighted on the necks of all Asia 5 "; "he left the 
 provinces waltzing 6 "; "the destiny of the East blared on the dread 
 shawms of peril, mingling her plans with the shades of Tartarus 7 ." 
 He does not, in describing the situation of a town, care to say 
 North, South, East and West simply, but "facing the arctoan 
 stars," "whence the dawning sunbeam rises 8 ." (Of course these 
 phrases are more unnatural when translated.) Once or twice he 
 
 1 It is remarkable in view of the fact that the Greeks had always been 
 studiously ignorant of Latin (e.g. Plutarch), and that a century later than 
 this we find but few in the East who knew it at all, that the two great men 
 of letters of this age, Ammianus and Claudian, a Greek-speaking Egyptian, 
 should write in Latin. The Emperor Julian seems guiltless of the most rudi- 
 mentary acquaintance with Latin literature. Latin was still, however, the 
 official language. Libanius (Sievers, p. 13) needed an interpreter to read a 
 Latin letter, and was indignant at young Antiochenes going to Italy to learn 
 Latin (ib. p. 162). Trench (Plutarch, p. 10) cites one quotation of Horace in 
 Plutarch against Gibbon's assertion that there is no allusion to Virgil or 
 Horace in Greek literature from Dionysius of Halicarnassus to Libanius. Is 
 the statement or the exception more striking? 
 
 2 E. W. Watson, Studia Biblica, iii. 241, compares Ammianus' style with 
 Cyprian's, finding them "closely akin in their literary aspect." 
 
 3 E.g. in the purely picturesque use of the adjective, xiv. 3, 4 Aboraeque 
 amnis herbidas ripas, balancing solitudines. 
 
 4 xxix. 1, 14 interri'irum cladium litui sonabant. 
 
 5 xxix. 2, 21 coetus furiarum horrificus...cervicibus Asiae totius insedit. 
 This rather curious phraseology is not unlike Apuleius, e.g. Metam. v. 12 
 sed jam pestes illae taeterrimae furiae anhelantes vipereum virus et festinantes 
 impla celeritate navigabant the description of Psyche's two sisters. 
 
 6 xxviii. 3, 9 tripudiantes relinquens provincias. Others use this verb in the 
 same way. 
 
 7 xviii. 4, 1 Orientis fortuna periculorum terribiles tubas inflabat...consilia 
 tartareis manibus miscens. 
 
 8 xxvii. 4, 6 arctois obnoxiam stellis. 7 unde eoumjubar exsurgit. 
 
 G. 3
 
 34 Life atid Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 breaks out in a declamatory apostrophe, which comes oddly enough 
 in a history. In fact we may borrow a phrase of his own, used of 
 Phrynichus, to illustrate and describe his own style cum cothitr- 
 natius stilus procederet '. Cothurnus is strictly the buskin worn by 
 the tragic actor to give dignity to his stature, and is commonly 
 enough used in Latin as equivalent to Tragedy itself, just as soccus 
 represents Comedy. Cothurnatus is "wearing the buskin" and 
 may be employed of a man in a "tragic" humour. To turn this 
 into an adverb, and use it to describe the march of a style, is a 
 somewhat unusual manner of writing, but characteristic of Am- 
 mianus. It also hits him off admirably, for there is very often " a 
 hint of the buskin in the strut of his style." At the same time a 
 good deal too much may be made of this, and has been made, for, as 
 I hope the extract above translated will shew, he can write straight- 
 forwardly and simply when he pleases 2 . When his diction and his 
 rather obtrusive learning are forgiven, I think we have exhausted 
 the list of his sins, which must be admitted not to be very great. 
 
 When we come to his virtues, we find that his severe truth- 
 fulness and his dispassionate impartiality might set him in the 
 very front rank of historians. But a man may be fair and truthful 
 without having the other necessary qualities of a historian, and 
 these Ammianus has in a strongly marked degree. He realizes the 
 perspective of the picture he sees, and he selects and groups his 
 matter with the eye of a master. A modern author has this advan- 
 tage over an ancient, that he can by grace of the printing press 
 pack his digressions into footnotes and appendices, while so long- 
 as manuscripts held the field, everything had to go into the text. 
 But for this the light reader would have a higher opinion of 
 Ammianus. Setting apart his geographical excursuses which really 
 recall Herodotus 3 , and those on scientific subjects such as earth - 
 
 1 xxviii. 1, 4. So Mr Bury describes the style of Cassiodorus, "each epistle 
 posing as it were in tragic cothurni and trailing a sweeping train." Later 
 Roman Empire, ii. p. 187. 
 
 2 One must be careful of speaking of oneself after the Abbe's dictum, but I 
 may be allowed to say I once read Ammianus steadily and almost exclusively 
 for a fortnight and found him fascinating. Quot homines, of course. 
 
 3 Sievers, Libanius, p. 17, n. 2, says Geography was a Lieblingswissenschaft 
 of the day. Claudian stops the course of an epic to tell about Sicily and 
 its volcanoes in 36 lines (R. P. i. 142 178). While Peter (die gesch. Litter atiir 
 fiber die R. Kaiaerzeit bis Theod. I. it. ihre Quellen) characterizes these excursions 
 of Ammianus as Dilettantismus, Gimazane on the other hand (p. 207) says 
 that after the French conquest of Algeria a French officer, Nau de Champlouis, 
 took Ammianus' story of Theodosius' campaign in Africa, went over the ground 
 and found the historian exact. I have referred to de Broglie, whom the Abbe 
 cites, but he is not quite so explicit.
 
 Ammianus Marcellinus 35 
 
 (quakes, the rainbow, comets, and so forth, which are generally 
 borrowed, and naturally fall short of modern accuracy 1 all of 
 which would to-day be relegated from the main body of the work 
 we may say that he knows the use of light and shade, and shifts 
 his scene so skilfully that the various parts of his work set off and 
 relieve one another. No part of the Roman world is left out, and 
 he gives us a vivid panorama of that world, borrowing no doubt at 
 times from earlier writers. Huns, Goths, Egyptians and Persians 
 are all surveyed, and though we may be surprised at an omission 
 or a slip here and there, such as his neglect to notice the change 
 from the Arsacid to the Sassanid dynasty in Persia 2 , which from 
 other sources we find meant much to Rome and her Eastern 
 provinces, we really learn a great deal. 
 
 Then he has a keen eye for colour, and in a touch, a hint, 
 an incidental phrase, lets us have glimpses that make the life 
 of his time real and living to us to-day 3 . We are seeing his 
 world for ourselves, almost with our own eyes. For instance, 
 we learn thus that the Germans dyed their hair. Jovinus 4 
 "hidden in a valley dark through the thickness of the trees" 
 surprises them, " some washing, some of them staining their hair 
 red after their custom, and drinking some of them." In the 
 same way we mingle with the Roman soldiers (too many of them 
 barbarians), and see the way they do things. They are anxious to 
 fight, and they let their commander know it by banging their spears 
 on their shields 5 . To wish him good luck they make a din with 
 the shields on their knees 6 . Here is a man who cuts off his thumb 
 
 1 Gibbon, who had a high opinion of him, magnificently rebukes him on 
 one occasion. "Ammianus, in a long, because unseasonable, digression, rashly 
 supposes that he understands an astronomical question, of which his readers 
 are ignorant." Nemesis overtakes him at once, for Dr Smith has remarked 
 an error of a preposition in Gibbon's account of Ammianus' mistake. 
 
 2 The Arsacids yielded place to Artaxerxes in 226 A.D., and the new dynasty 
 which was supposed to derive from the Achaemenids (the family of Cyrus and 
 Darius) lasted till 651 A.D. They restored the religion of Zoroaster and the 
 authority of the Magi, persecuting Christians and Manichaeans alike. The long 
 wearisome wars between them and the Eomans (to be read of in the vivid if 
 very unadorned history of Joshua the Stylite) left both an easy prey to Islam. 
 We hear now and then of the Saracens already in Ammianus. 
 
 3 Biidinger (per quern non licet esse negligentem), pp. 27 30, is very severe 
 on some of Ammianus' picturesque touches especially the scene where the 
 Persians are crossing the bridge (xviii. 7, 1), asking, could he see so far and did 
 Sapor really sacrifice at all ? A little lower (p. 31) he laments that Ammianus 
 did not know "Eusebios Pamphilos' Sohn." Ramsay, Impressions of Turkey, 
 p. 193, mentions one or two odd little slips of Mr Hogarth into inaccuracy 
 about small matters a bolt on a door and a woman's petticoat and asks 
 what would be said of such blunders in St Luke. 
 
 4 xxvii. 2, 2. 5 xvi. 12, 13. xv. 8, 15. 
 
 32
 
 36 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 to shirk service 1 . Julian makes a speech, and in delight the troops 
 stand waving their shields in the air 2 , or in anger they brandish 
 their spears at him 3 . In the troops of Constantius 4 are soldiers who 
 lie on feather-beds and have a pretty taste in gems. Alas! for 
 Julian's heathen revival ! his soldiers had too many sacrificial 
 feasts, too much to eat and too much to drink, and rode home 
 through the streets of Antioch to their quarters, mounted on the 
 necks of passers-by 5 . Now they all but mutiny because Julian has 
 only a donative for them of a hundred pieces of silver a man 6 . 
 Again we find them marching into battle, while they raise the 
 barritus 7 , "so called in their native tongue, a martial note that 
 began low and swelled louder." Mr Keary 8 very reasonably finds 
 the origin of this in the German forests, where the wind sweeping 
 over and through leagues of trees roared like the sea, and hence 
 through barbarian recruits, of whom we hear a good deal, it came 
 into the Roman army. 
 
 All these are small points, perhaps, but they add variety to the 
 work; and though a history may be great without them, or dull 
 with them, they are in their right place in Ammianus, and brighten 
 his canvas without lessening the effect of the great outlines of his 
 picture. 
 
 Ammianus was a soldier, but he saw that the army was not 
 the State, and ever and again we find him intent on the provinces 
 and the troubles of the tax-payer. He recognizes the merit of 
 Constantius, whom he did not like, in keeping the army in its 
 proper place 9 , "never exalting the horns of the military"; and he 
 tells us with a proud satisfaction in his hero that Julian reduced 
 the land tax in Gaul from twenty-five to seven aurei per caput, 
 and in his financial arrangements would not countenance one 
 particular practice because it was merely a relief to the rich without 
 helping the poor at all. It is not the picture of Julian we are 
 generally shewn, and we must bear in mind that the man, whom the 
 ecclesiastics abuse for "pillaging" them, was careful for finance and 
 had the interests of the empire at heart. A burning question of 
 the time was the shirking of "curial" duties by men who tried to 
 
 1 xv. 12, 3. 2 xxiii. 5, 24. 
 
 3 xxi. 13, 16. 4 xxii. 4, 6. 
 
 5 xxii. 12, 6. * xxiv. 3, 3. 
 
 7 xxxi. 7, 11. Cf. Tac. Germ. 3. 
 
 8 Vikings and Western Christendom, p. 43. 
 
 9 xxi. 16, 1. 
 
 10 xvi. 5, 14. Cf. Marquardt, Rom. Staatsverwaltung 1 , ii. p. 222.
 
 Ammianm Marcellimts 37 
 
 evade paying their share of the heavy taxes exacted from the curia 
 of each town as a body. It is clear that every evasion made the 
 burden heavier for the rest of the body, but Julian is severely 
 criticized by Ammianus for being too sharp with men whom the 
 curiae accused of such dereliction 1 . The system was vicious, and 
 in fact was one of the main elements in the decay of the empire 2 . 
 
 Another such element was officialdom. He tells us how when 
 Julian was quartered at last in the palace of Constantinople, and 
 sent for a barber, there entered a gorgeous official, who proved to be 
 the court barber, and, as such, had a splendid income 3 . This roused 
 Julian, who at once made a sweeping clearance of barbers and cooks 
 and eunuchs, and till Valens became Emperor their regime was at 
 an end. Other official nuisances were less easy to get rid of, and 
 again and again we find Ammianus telling of tumult and war and 
 disaster brought on by the cruelty and insolence of civil and mili- 
 tary authorities. Valentinian, he complains, did nothing to check 
 the irregularities of his officers, while he was very severe on the 
 private soldiers. Finally, the terrible Gothic war, which culminated 
 in the defeat and death of Valens at Adrianople, was occasioned, if 
 not caused, by the rapacity and cruelty of a magistrate charged 
 with the transport of the Goths over the Danube. 
 
 Here it may be remarked that while Ammianus has no political 
 or economical views to set forth, and accepts the fact of the empire 
 as part of the world's fabric, as everybody else then did, without 
 criticism, he does permit himself to criticize and complain of the 
 administration. Though he laments that his contemporaries have 
 not the recuperative power which "sober antiquity, unstained by 
 the effeminacy of an ungirt life," possessed in its unanimity and 
 
 1 Rode, p. 58, refers this criticism to Julian's edict (Ep. 14) putting back 
 Christian clergy into the curiae from which they had heen released on ordi- 
 nation. Amm. Marc. xxv. 4, 21 ; and xxi. 12, 23. 
 
 2 Priscus in his account of his interesting journey among the Huns in 
 448 A.D. (p. 59 B in the Bonn Corpus of Byzantine History, a translation of 
 which is to be found in Mr Bury's Later Roman Empire, i. 213 223) tells 
 us of a renegade Greek he met who had turned Hun and pled that he was 
 better off; "for the condition of the subjects [of the empire] in time of peace 
 is far more grievous than the evils of war, for the exaction of the taxes is 
 very severe, and unprincipled men inflict injuries on others because the laws 
 are practically not valid against all classes," and so forth. Priscus upheld the 
 empire, and " my interlocutor shed tears and confessed that the laws and 
 constitution of the Romans were fair, but deplored that the governors, not 
 possessing the spirit of former generations, were ruining the State." It might 
 be difficult to identify those "former generations," but the whole story is very 
 significant. 
 
 3 xxii. 4, 9.
 
 38 Life and Letters in tlie Fourth Century 
 
 patriotism', he has no regrets for the republic, no sorrow for the 
 Senate of Rome in its glorious effacement, none of the narrow 
 Roman feeling of the city-state days. Three hundred years had 
 brought a good many changes, and all the world was Roman now 
 together, apart from Germans, Goths, and Persians beyond the pale. 
 The Greek of Antioch is as much a Roman as any one. The result 
 is a striking difference of tone in the historian a change for the 
 better. We are rid of the jingoism of Livy, and the gloom of 
 Tacitus 2 . Ammianus himself is tenderer and has larger sympathies 
 than the historians of old. He can value human life even if it is 
 not a Roman life, and pity the child though a Syrian who begins 
 his experience by being taken captive.* The Roman in Ammianus 
 poses no more. He is far more frankly human. As a result we 
 feel more with him. In fighting German '' and Persian he is battling 
 for light and civilization, and Christianity itself ; and if in the last 
 great fight in book xxxi. we incline to the Gothic side in some 
 degree, it is the fault of a criminal official, and not because our 
 historian alienates our sympathy by a narrow and offensive little 
 patriotism. Things are more fairly and squarely judged on their 
 merits now when the cramping caste distinction of civitas is gone. 
 Even the line between Roman and barbarian was growing faint, 
 when the Frank Nevitta was made consul by Julian, bitter as he 
 was against Constantino for his barbarian consuls. 
 
 But I have said nothing so far of one great change that had 
 come over the world in the triumph of the Church. We hear of it 
 of course from Ammianus, but less than we might have expected. 
 This is easily accounted for. One of our chief interests in the 
 fourth century is the Arian controversy, and Ammianus was a 
 heathen. A heathen of the latter-day type, that is, a rather 
 confused, because so very open-minded a heathen. We hear little 
 about the gods and a great deal about the vaguely-named cneleste 
 nwnen, which shews its interest in mankind again and again. 
 
 In particular he digresses on the occasion of the downfall of 
 Gallus, which he considered a well-deserved catastrophe, to give us 
 his view of Nemesis or divine justice. The passage is characteristic 
 in several ways. "Such things and many more like them are 
 
 1 xxxi. 5. 14. 
 
 2 Mr Bury (L. R. E., ii. 179) characterizes Tacitus very justly as " out 
 of touch with his own age." 
 
 3 Biidinger (p. 21) discovers an "unusual bitterness against Germans" in 
 Ammianus though he notices it less in the later books. If this is true it can 
 hardly be surprising (compare Synesius), but it had not occurred to me.
 
 Ammianus Marcellinus 39 
 
 often wrought (and would they were always!) by the avenger of 
 evil acts and the rewarder of good, Adrastia, whom we also call by 
 a second name Nemesis, a certain sublime Justice with divine 
 power, set, if human minds may judge, above the orbit of the 
 moon, or, as others hold, a guardian being, with universal sway 
 over our several destinies, whom the theologians of old in their 
 myth call the daughter of Justice, saying that from an unknown 
 eternity she looks down on all earthly things. She, as queen of 
 causes, arbiter and disposer of events, holds the urn of fate, varying 
 the lot that befals us ; and by bringing what our free wills begin 
 at times to a very different end from that intended, she utterly 
 changes and involves the manifold actions of men. With the 
 indissoluble clamp of necessity she fetters the empty pride of 
 mortality, and disposing as she will of the hours of growth and 
 decline, now she brings down the neck of pride and cuts its sinews, 
 now she lifts the good from the depths into prosperity. Antiquity, 
 in its love of myth, gave her wings, that men might realize with 
 what flying speed she is everywhere present ; it gave her to hold 
 the helm and set the wheel beneath her, that men might know she 
 courses through all the elements and rules the universe" (xiv. 11, 
 2526). 
 
 Here, while aiming at expressing his view in the style he loves, 
 he gives us the conclusion of a man of affairs. Men propose this 
 and that; powers above them "shape their ends," and the world 
 presents a great appearance of confusion. Yet his experience and 
 observation lead him to believe that in general it is possible to 
 recognize some higher power (to-day we might say law or principle) 
 which is acting towards justice. We do not always see justice 
 entirely triumphant, but we often do, so often as to be justified in 
 believing that above the play of "changeful and inconstant fortune" 
 is a divine justice, however we may define it. He is not a philo- 
 sopher, but he leans on the whole to Neo-Platonic theology/ from 
 which he derived " the orbit of the moon," the lowest of the seven 
 heavenly planes. 
 
 Auguries and auspices are still to the fore, not that the mere 
 birds can tell the future, but a kindly numen 1 guides their flight 
 to allow us by it to see what is coming. Omens are very real 
 
 1 xxi. 1, 9. Amat enim benignitas numinis, sen quod merentur homines, sen 
 quod tangitur eorum adfectione, his quoque artibus prodere quae inpendunt. 
 Surely there is something pathetic in this, if only in the quoque. This too 
 is Neo-Platonic; see footnote 2 on p. 187.
 
 40 Life and Letters in tJie Fourth Century 
 
 things an idea mankind still cherishes in a confused and half 
 ashamed way. Prodigies still occur, but "nobody heeds them 
 now." Amniianus has great respect for the philosophers and the 
 theologi of old, though he draws a curious picture of Julian's camp 
 with its Etruscan soothsayers and Greek philosophers'. Some sort 
 of portent occurred on Julian's march into Persia, and the sooth- 
 sayers declared that it meant disaster if the advance were con- 
 tinued. But they were slighted by the philosophers, "who had 
 much respect just then, though they do make mistakes sometimes, 
 and are stubborn enough in things they know nothing about." 
 This time the event justified the soothsayers, we know. 
 
 But a historian of the fourth century, whatever his creed, has 
 to deal with Christians. Ammianus is quite free from bias ; Chris- 
 tian or heathen is much the same to him Tros Tyriu&que mihi 
 nullo discrimine agetur. He has no animus whatever, and is so far 
 unique among his contemporaries. He finds grave fault with Julian 
 for forbidding Christian professors to teach ancient literature, stig- 
 matizing the decree as one obruendum perenni silentio 2 , "to be 
 overwhelmed in eternal silence" strong words to use of a man he 
 loved and honoured, and speaking volumes for the fairness of the 
 writer. As an outsider, however, who will have other outsiders 
 among his readers, he will often half apologize for a technical term 
 "a deacon as it is called," " synods as they call them." A bishop 
 is Christianae legis antistes, though he slips into episcopus now 
 and then. A church is Christiani ritus sacrarium, or Christian i 
 ritus conventiculum, or frankly eccle&ia. These roundabout phrases 
 are largely due to his environment ; for the traditions of literature 
 and good society ignored the new religion 3 . 
 
 1 xxiii. 5, 8 11. He was disgusted with the quacks and pretenders who 
 swarmed round Julian. Augury and so forth were degraded when practised in 
 irregular ways and by the inexpert. Cf. xxii. 12, 7, and Socrates, iii. 1, 55. 
 
 2 xxii. 10, 7. 
 
 3 This might of itself, I think, dispose of Gutschmid's ingenious attempt 
 to correct a defective passage in xxii. 16, 22. Ammianus is enumerating 
 the great men whose teaching has been influenced by Egypt (Pythagoras, 
 Anaxagoras and Solon) and his last name is lost. Ex his fontibus per sublimia 
 gradient sermonum amplitiidine Jovis aemulus non visa Aegypto militavit 
 sapientia gloriosa. Gutschmid wants to read, after his, ihs, i.e. Jesus ; Valesius 
 would prefer correcting non into PI u ton. When one remembers that even 
 Christians of the type of Augustine and Jerome found the style of the Bible 
 bad and unreadable at first ; that heathen writers habitually ignore the Church, 
 its doctrines and usages as far as possible; that the use of the name Jesus 
 alone is unusual, coming on one with a surprise in Jerome, while Tacitus 
 says Christu* and Suetonius Chrestus and dismiss the matter; that Ammianus, 
 who was an admirer of Julian and generally in literary matters wishful to be 
 correct, would have been a revolutionary among educated pagans if he had
 
 Ammianus Marcellinus 41 
 
 But Ammianus was no pedant, and can speak in terms of 
 admiration of the men 1 "who, to hold their faith inviolate, faced 
 a glorious death and are now called martyrs." In another passage, 
 speaking of the sufferings inflicted on the followers of the pre- 
 tender Procopius which were very much those undergone by the 
 martyrs of Palestine according to Eusebius he says 2 "he had 
 rather die in battle ten times over than face them. 
 
 Side by side with this stand his startling words on the warring 
 of the sects. Julian, on the principle of Divide ut imperes, recalled 
 the Nicene exiles with a view to fresh theological quarrels 3 ; " for he 
 knew that there are no wild beasts so hostile to mankind as most 
 of the Christians are to one another." It was only two centuries 
 since Tertullian heard the heathen remarking ut sese invicem 
 diligunt. He records the terrible fight in a church at Rome 4 
 between the followers of Damasus and Ursinus, the rival candi- 
 dates for the See, when one hundred and thirty-seven dead bodies 
 were found on the victory of Damasus. Here is his comment 
 " I do not deny, when I consider the ostentation of Roman society, 
 that those who are ambitious for this thing (the See) ought to 
 spare no effort in the fray to secure what they want, for, if they 
 get it, they will be sure of being enriched by the offerings of 
 matrons, of riding about in carriages, dressed in clothes the 
 cynosure of every eye, and of giving banquets so profuse, that their 
 entertainments shall surpass the tables of kings 5 . They might be 
 happy indeed, if they could despise the magnificence of Rome, 
 which they count a set-off to the crimes involved, and live in 
 imitation of certain bishops of the provinces, whom their sparing 
 diet, the cheapness of their clothes, and their eyes fixed upon the 
 ground, commend as pure and holy men, to the eternal deity and 
 his true worshippers." 
 
 Once he seems to express a preference, when he complains of 
 Constantius "confounding the pure and simple Christian religion 
 with old- wife superstition 6 ." Probably anilis superstitio is his 
 
 found "sublime eloquence" or "glorious wisdom" in Christianity; and finally 
 that he nowhere shews any acquaintance with any Christian literature what- 
 ever, and fails to realize what Arian and Nicene were disputing about around 
 him ; the brilliance of Gutschmid becomes more and more impossible. 
 
 1 xxii. 11, 10. * xxvi. 10, 13. 
 
 3 xxii. 5, 4. 4 xxvii. 3, 12. 
 
 5 Cf. Augustine's early judgment on Ambrose, Cow/, vi. 3, 3. 
 
 6 xxi. 16, 18. Christianam religionem absolutam et simplicem anili super- 
 stitione con/lindens in qua scrutanda perplexius quam componenda gravius 
 excitavit discidia plurima, quae progresna fusius ahiit concertatione verborum,
 
 42 Ifife and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 summary criticism of all theological speculation. Constantine took 
 the same view and wrote to Arius and Alexander remonstrating 
 about their quarrel which he called "childish folly" they were 
 "too precise" (axpipoXoyelo-dt, exactly Ammianus' in qua scrutanda 
 perplexlus) about these " entirely trifling questions." Constantine 
 complained that these clergy caused disorder and discord ; and 
 Ammianus says the same of Constantius (quarn componenda gra- 
 vius) 1 . In any case, in view of his treatment of Athanasius and 
 the curt dismissal of the Athanasian question 2 , it is hardly clear 
 that he censures Arianism, which in fact was less likely to seem 
 anilis superstitio to a heathen than Nicene Christianity. At all 
 events Constantius was too "curious about the Christian religion," 
 and ruined the State's arrangements for the quick travelling of 
 genuine officials by giving free passes to swarms of bishops who did 
 little but go from one synod to another. 
 
 I think we may surmise Ammianus' own feelings from his 
 remark about Valentinian 3 . Valentinian was rather a savage ruler 
 on Ammianus' own shewing, but "this reign was glorious for the 
 moderation with which he stood among the different religions and 
 troubled no one, nor gave orders that this should be worshipped or 
 that ; nor did he try by threatening rescripts to bend the neck of 
 his subjects to what he worshipped himself, but he left the parties 
 untouched as he found them." Surveying all his references to 
 Christianity, I am afraid we must admit that he did not realize 
 what it meant, nor understand how vital was the issue between 
 Arian and Nicene. How should he, when there were hundreds in 
 the church who did neither ? We must also always remember that, 
 beside being a man who kept himself in the background, he was 
 writing for a society which avowedly had no interest at all in 
 Christian affairs 4 . 
 
 Ammianus did not lack for dry humour ; witness the soldiers 
 who would have won a certain battle " if only they had displayed 
 the vigour in standing which they shewed in running away"; and 
 "Epigonus, a philosopher so far as clothes went"; or Mercurius 
 "who was like a savage dog that wags his tail the more sub- 
 
 ut eatervis antistitum jumentis publicis ultroque citroque discurrentibus per 
 synodos quas appellant dum ritum omnem ad suum trahere conantur arbitrium, 
 rei vehiculariae succideret nerves. 
 
 1 See Constantino's letter apud Euseb. F. C. ii. 69 71 and Socr. i. 7. 
 
 2 xv. 7, 610. 3 xxx. 9, 5. 
 
 4 The Abbe Gimazane is very anxious to make Ammianus a Cbristian, at 
 least so far as to have been baptized, though he admits that his supposed faith 
 is lukewarm. I see neither the gain nor the grounds.
 
 Ammianus Marcellinus 43 
 
 missively for being a brute inside"; or the would-be Emperor 
 Procopius, " about whom the wonder was that his life through he 
 shed no man's blood"; or that governor of Africa "who was in 
 a hurry to outstrip the enemy in plundering his province"; or 
 finally, those lawyers of Antioch who, if you mentioned in their 
 presence the name of some worthy of old, took it to be some 
 foreign term for a fish or other eatable 1 . But what would have 
 been in Tacitus one of the bitterest of epigrams, is in Ammianus 
 no epigram at all. Imperialis verecundia, the chastity of an 
 emperor, was the great phenomenon of the fourth and fifth cen- 
 turies, whose emperors, whatever else they may have been, were in 
 this matter above scandal. 
 
 There is a beautiful picture of the triumphal entry of Con- 
 stantius into Rome 2 . He was a little man, long in the body and 
 short and rather bandy in the legs, but 
 
 He nothing common did nor mean 
 Upon that memorable scene. 
 
 He rode in a golden chariot, and for all the noise and applause 
 never flinched, but stood immovable ; but "on passing through lofty 
 gateways he would bow his little person ; and as if his neck were 
 fortified, he kept his gaze straight in front of him, and looked 
 neither right nor left, as if he had been a dummy ; the shaking of 
 the wheels did not make him nod, and he was not seen to spit, or 
 wipe his mouth or his nose, or move his hand throughout." 
 
 A grim humour hangs about the coronation of Procopius 3 , who, 
 after months in hiding, blossomed out as an Emperor. He appeared 
 before the soldiers without a cloak, and so emaciated as to look as 
 if he had risen from the dead, and all the purple he could muster 
 was his boots and a rag he waved in his left hand : "you would 
 have thought him some figure on the stage, or some ridiculous 
 burlesque that had popped through the curtain." His procession 
 was hardly a success ; for the soldiers were afraid of being assailed 
 with tiles from the roofs, and marched along holding their shields 
 over their heads. 
 
 Of Ammianus' residence in Rome we have many reminders, some 
 of very great interest, some very amusing. His description of the 
 city on the occasion of Constantius' visit shews the hold Rome still 
 
 1 The same doubt has arisen in our own day as to whether Botticelli is a 
 cheese or a wine, if we may trust Mr Punch. / 
 
 2 xvi. 10. 3 xxvi. 6, 15.
 
 44 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 had on the world's imagination. "Whatever he saw first he 
 thought supreme above all." There was the temple of Tarpeian 
 Jove, the baths as big as provinces, the solid mass of the amphi- 
 theatre built of Tiburtine stone, to whose top the human eye could 
 hardly reach, and so forth. "But when he came to Trajan's forum 
 a structure, I suppose, unique under heaven, which even the 
 gods would agree with us in admiring he stood in amazement 1 ." 
 Rome was the one thing in the world about which exaggeration 
 was impossible. The Emperor was so much impressed that he 
 determined to add his item to the ornaments of the Eternal City, 
 and sent an obelisk from Egypt. Of this and the inscription it 
 bore, and its journey and arrival, Ammianus gives us a most 
 interesting account 2 . 
 
 But more entertaining are his digressions on Roman manners, 
 which abound in sketches as good as Juvenal's 3 . The snobbery and 
 extravagance of the great men of Rome may not have been more 
 excessive than such things are elsewhere; but the giandee who with 
 the greatest dignity (though no one has asked) extols to the skies 
 his patrimony and the income it yields, how fertile it is, how far it 
 reaches ; the noble gentleman who welcomes you, though an utter 
 stranger, as if he had been yearning for you, asks you endless 
 questions till you have to lie, and makes you regret that you did 
 not settle in Rome ten years earlier, but next day has no idea who 
 or what or whence you are ; the fashionable people, who loathed 
 sensible and well-educated men like the plague, and learning like 
 poison all these impressed Ammianus so much that he has left 
 them gibbeted for ever in his pages. The troops of slaves and 
 eunuchs (his particular abhorrence), the luxury of the banquets, the 
 Roman preference for the musician rather than the philosopher, the 
 organs and lyres as big as waggons, the libraries closed like the 
 tomb, the absurd fear of infection that has the slave washed after 
 he has been to inquire about a sick friend before he is allowed into 
 the house again, the gambling and horse racing, the effeminacy and 
 the slang 4 of Rome, waken disgust in this old soldier, as well they 
 might. The rabble that will fight for Damasus or Ursinus, and 
 
 1 xvi. 10, 15. Cf. Symmachus, Eel. 3, 7, on Constantius' toleration of the 
 temples. 
 
 2 xviii. 4. 
 
 3 xiv. 6; xxviii. 4. Boissier, F. P. ii. 187, says: "Daus ces passages qui ne 
 ressemblent pas tout a fait au reste il est plus satirique et rheteur qu'historien." 
 
 4 E.g. Per te ille discat. Cf. Jerome, Ep. 55, 5, When they see a Christian, 
 statiui illud de trivia 6 ypa.ii<6s, 6 tindery*.
 
 Ammianus Marcellinus 45 
 
 riot if the corn ships are late or wine is not forthcoming, are no 
 better than the nobles. The most absurd figure of all, perhaps, is 
 Lampadius, who was at one time prefect " a man who would be 
 indignant if he should so much as spit without being complimented 
 on being adept at it above the rest of mankind." But even in 
 Rome there were good men and true, such as Symmachus " who is 
 to be named among the most illustrious examples of learning and 
 decorum." 
 
 If this is comedy there is tragedy enough in book xiv. Gallus 
 Caesar is in the midst of a career of tyranny and bloodshed in the 
 East 1 , when he is summoned to Italy. To disarm his suspicion he 
 is bidden to bring his wife Constantina 2 a helpmeet indeed for him, 
 "a death-dealing Megaera, the constant inflamer of his rage, as 
 greedy of human blood as her spouse" a lady who listens from 
 behind a curtain to keep him from weakening. She did not feel 
 easy about the invitation, yet thought she would risk it, but she 
 died of fever in Bithynia on her journey, and Gallus felt more 
 nervous than ever, for he knew Constantius and "his particular 
 tendency to destroy his kin." He knew his own staff hated him, 
 and were afraid of Constantius, for wherever civil strife was in- 
 volved the "luck" of Constantius was proverbial. A tribune was 
 sent to lure him to his ruin ; " and as the senses of men are dulled 
 and blunted when Destiny lays a hand on them, with quickened 
 hopes he left Antioch, under the guidance of an unpropitious power, 
 to jump as they say from the frying pan into the fire." On his 
 journey he gave horse races at Constantinople, and the Emperor's 
 rage was more than human. A guard of honour (and espionage) 
 accompanied him. From Adrianople he was hurried on with fewer 
 attendants, and now he saw how he stood and " cursed his rashness 
 with tears." The ghosts of his victims haunted his dreams. At 
 Petobio he was made a prisoner, and at Histria he was beheaded, 
 and all of him that reached Constantius was his boots, which a 
 creature of the Court hauled off to post away to the Emperor 
 with this glorious spoil. 
 
 What is the general impression left on the mind by the history 
 of Ammianus ? One cannot read him through without a growing 
 conviction of his absolute truthfulness and a growing admiration of 
 
 1 Even his brother Julian admits "fierce and savage" elements in his 
 character. Ep. ad Athen. 271 D. 
 
 2 Honoured since the 13th century as S. Constanza. Gregorovius, Rome. i. 
 106.
 
 46 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 his power, and the two together present the Roman Empire to the 
 mind exactly as it was. He makes no predictions, he expresses no 
 regrets, and apart from observations on the characters he draws, 
 he leaves the reader to form his own opinions on the Empire. 
 Nobody foresaw that in twenty years after his death Rome would 
 have fallen to the Goth, that the Empire as an effective power in 
 the West was nearing. its end, but yet, wise after the event, we 
 can see in his pages that it is all coming. There were, we learn, 
 strong men and honest men to stave it off and delay it, who, if 
 they could not save Rome, did save Europe in virtue of those ideals 
 of law and order which the younger peoples of the North found in 
 the majestic fabric of Roman administration. Ammianus lets us see 
 the exhaustion of the Roman world, the ruin of the middle classes 
 under an oppressive system, "and often still more oppressive agents, 
 of taxation, the weakness all along the frontier, Rhine, Danube, 
 Euphrates, and African desert, caused by bad principles of govern- 
 ment within as much as by attacks from without, and the crying 
 need of men which led to the army being filled with barbarians, 
 who did not quite lose all their barbarism and brutality at once, 
 and were often as terrible to those they protected as to the enemy 
 they were supposed to keep off ; and at the same time we read in 
 him the grandeur and the glory of Rome, who had welded the 
 world into one and made the nations members one of another, had 
 humanized and civilized them with law and culture in her train 
 wherever she went, and was even now training in her armies the 
 men who should overthrow her, and then, as it were in horror at 
 their own work, should set her on high once more, and keep her in 
 her place as the world's Queen for a thousand years.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 JULIAN 
 
 Perjidus ille Deo, quamvis non perjidus orbi. 
 
 PRUDENTIUS Apotli. 454 
 
 ONE of the amiable traits in man's nature is to love what is old 
 for its own sake. Our affection for progress is not always utterly 
 disinterested, but the love of the past is the purest of passions. 
 And we are so made, or many of us are, that we love the old the 
 more because it is the lost cause. It may be a weakness, but it is 
 a gentle weakness. Yet it is apt to mislead us, and we sometimes 
 allow age and defeat to obscure in our lost cause or our fallen hero 
 features that would repel us in a triumph. Thus in some measure 
 has it come about that there is a kindly feeling for Julian beyond 
 what his worth really merits, and it is reinforced by the malignity 
 and hatred with which ecclesiastical writers have, or are supposed 
 to have, pursued his memory. The tradition grew that he was 
 a champion of reason and enlightenment against the crudity and 
 darkness of Christianity, and indeed these words are practically 
 Julian's own. But the reason and enlightenment of which he 
 thought and wrote would have seemed to many, who have admired 
 him for their sake, as crude and foolish as the dogmas of the 
 Church against which he protested. After all he owes something 
 to the spiteful nickname he bears. 
 
 The Julian of sentimental atheism is really as far from 
 the truth as the Julian drawn by over-zealous ecclesiastics. The 
 real Julian is more interesting than either, because a more compli- 
 cated character. He found fault with Old and New Testaments 
 very much in the style of Voltaire, but he was not a sceptic. He 
 was hated as a persecutor, though again and again he declares his
 
 48 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 wish and his intention to maintain religious freedom. Many rulers 
 have upheld religion, very few have felt so deeply conscious of 
 divine guidance or so utterly dependent upon it as he. For most 
 men the religion of Christ seems to supply the closest, the most 
 vital and the most absorptive communion with the divine ; to some 
 it has seemed to draw too much upon faith. But Julian decided it 
 was a cold sectarianism that cut a man away from heaven and left 
 him godless in a godless world. For some it has been a divine 
 alchemy transmuting everything it touched to gold. For Julian 
 it did the reverse, and for the gold of Homer and Plato offered the 
 lead of Matthew and Luke. It was a blight upon the Greek spirit 
 which had given life to the world for a thousand years. We can 
 now see that this Greek spirit had died long since a natural death, 
 but the Greeks of Julian's day fondly hoped it was living in them 
 still, and Julian voices the horror with which they began to feel 
 the chill of death and the natural, if rather irrational, hatred they 
 felt for what they supposed to be its cause 1 . 
 
 "Draw me as you have seen me," wrote Julian to a painter. In 
 one way this is easy to do, for few men have ever let mankind see 
 into their inmost feelings as he did ; but it is difficult, too, for the 
 atmosphere in which he lived was not ours, and many things look 
 strange to-day which were not felt to be unnatural then. Zeus and 
 Athena are not now, and we can only with difficulty conceive them 
 ever to have been for thinking men, even with all the generous 
 allowances philosophers might make, a possible alternative to Christ. 
 Yet are they stranger than Krishnu and Kali ? Is it not possible 
 to-day for a man to halt between two opinions in India, and find 
 in the philosophy or theosophy of thirty centuries of Hinduism an 
 attraction which may outweigh Christianity ? When we think of 
 the age of Julian we must not forget that the Brahmo-Somaj 
 exists to-day. Even Christians of his day believed his gods to be 
 real beings, of course demons. 
 
 1 Perhaps the best thing is to quote a Latin view to supplement this. 
 Eutilius (i. 383 396) attacks the Jews and involves Christians with them. 
 
 atque utinam nnnquam Judaea subacta fuisset 
 
 Pompeii bellis imperiisque Titi; 
 latins excisae pestis contagia serpunt 
 
 victoresque suos natio victa premit. 
 
 Further on he assails the monks, and concludes 
 
 non, rogo, deterior Circaeis secta venenis ? 
 tune mutabantur corpora, mine animi.
 
 Julian 49 
 
 The fourth century saw the last great persecution of the Church 
 end in failure, and the new religion recognized and honoured by 
 Constantine With him a new spirit came into the Roman Empire. 
 Hitherto so long as a man did a loyal citizen's duty, the State did 
 not intervene to regulate his belief. But now Constantine, weary 
 of the civil disorder the Arian quarrel made at Alexandria and 
 then communicated to other places as the infection spread, called 
 a council of the Church and invited the bishops to decide what the 
 Christian faith was, and he would then see to it himself that there 
 should be no more quarrelling about it. He was, however, dis- 
 appointed, for the quarrels went on, and when he died in 337 they 
 were still unsettled. Whatever might have been Constantine's own 
 religious position, his son's was clear. Constantius carried to the 
 inevitable halting-place the theory that a man's belief is the 
 State's concern. He did not aim at reconciling the factions for the 
 sake of concord, but at converting them all to his belief. His aim 
 was that of Justinian or Henry VIII. to dictate to his realm what 
 it was to believe. This affected Christians at once, and signs were 
 not lacking that the heathen ere long must in their turn be Arian, 
 Semi- Arian or Nicene, as the ruler might require. 
 
 Constantine left behind three sons and a number of nephews 
 and other relatives, but, whether the deed was the army's, done to 
 secure " the seed of Constantine " a phrase a man might conjure 
 with at this time or whether it was the work of Constantius, this 
 great family was thinned down, and the sons of Constantine were 
 left to rule the world alone 1 . Two of their cousins survived, the 
 sons of their father's half-brother, Gallus and Julian. Gallus was 
 thought to be so ill as to render murder unnecessary, and Julian 
 was so small six years old as to be overlooked. It was a dark 
 beginning for a life, like "the unspeakable tale from some tragedy" 
 rather than the record of a Christian house, and Julian lays the 
 guilt on Constantius, "the kindest of men." (Ep. Ath. 270 C.) 
 In later days Constantius, who, too, had a conscience, looked upon 
 his childlessness as Heaven's criticism of his deed. Had he lived a 
 month or two longer, to see his daughter, he might have had to 
 
 1 Licinius had thirty years before set the precedent by clearing away as far 
 as he could all persons who by marriage or descent were connected with any 
 previous Emperor. This was to exclude the possibility of a pretender. Such 
 as it is, this is the justification of Constantius "the sixth commandment," 
 says Seeck, writing of Constantine killing the younger Licinius, " must yield to 
 the safety of the empire." 
 
 G. 4
 
 50 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 revise this opinion. The heathen world, if Libanius 1 voices a 
 general feeling, saw in the extinction of the whole of Constantino's 
 family the vengeance of the injured gods. 
 
 Julian was left to the care of his kinsman, the great Semi-Arian 
 Bishop of Constantinople, Eusebius of Nicomedeia 2 , and of a faithful 
 eunuch Mardonius, who had been his mother's tutor. Some have 
 tried to lay the blame of Julian's apostasy on the theology of 
 Eusebius and his party. It would be nearer the truth to lay it on 
 their unsecured morals as exhibited in the court of Constantius. 
 Eusebius himself we may acquit of direct influence on Julian. 
 Great ecclesiastical statesmen have rarely, perhaps, the leisure to 
 teach little boys, and whatever leisure and inclination Eusebius 
 may have had to teach Julian, he died when his charge was still 
 a child. Mardonius had been reared by Julian's grandfather and 
 was a faithful servant who watched well over the boy. He had a 
 passion for Homer and Greek literature 3 , and wten the lad would 
 ask leave to go to races or anything of the kind, the old man would 
 refer him to the 23rd of the Iliad and bid him find his races there. 
 Two things resulted from this training. Julian's moral character 
 was thoroughly sound throughout life. He never entered the 
 theatre till his beard was grown, and as a man he hated the races 
 (Misop. 351, and 340 A). On the other hand Mardonius does not 
 seem to have spent much time with his pupil on the Christian 
 scriptures, and Julian's earliest and happiest associations were with 
 Homer, whose poetry he always loved. 
 
 1 See Sievers, Das Leben des Libanius, p. 192. 
 
 2 Amm. Marc. xxii. 9, 4. A pedigree of the maternal connexions of Julian 
 may be found in Seeck's great edition of Symmachus, p. clxxv. It is not 
 quite complete, as the bishop is omitted. 
 
 3 For Mardonius see Misopogon, 352 A. He was a Hellenized Scythian, 
 and perhaps it was in some measure due to him that Julian was so entirely 
 out of touch with Latin literature, but the Greek sophists with whom he 
 consorted were of one mind in neglecting Latin. E.g. Libanius (Sievers, 
 op. cit. p. 13) needed an interpreter for a Latin letter. See Bohde, der 
 griechische Roman, p. 298, on this preference felt by the later Greeks for them- 
 selves a preference which Julian shared but which did not gain him support 
 in the Latin world. If Epistle 55 be written from Gaul or the West, as I think, 
 we have Julian's views on the tongue half his Empire used playful no doubt : 
 TO. 5e t/J-d, el Kal <f>0eyyoifj.-r)v 'EXX^vicrW, davfj-a^fiv d^iov OUTWJ eo>ec ttcpefiap- 
 fiaptafitvoi dia TO, xupia- Elsewhere (Or. ii. 72 A) he speaks of what they (the 
 Latins) do with the letter V. Eutropius (x. 16, 3) remarks his one-sided 
 education liberalibus discijrtinis adprime eruditus, Graecis doctior atque adeo 
 ut Latina eruditio nequaquam cum Graeca scientia conveniret. Constantine, on 
 the other hand, addressed the Nicene Council (mainly Eastern and Greek- 
 speaking Bishops) in Latin, but when presiding over the debates he intervened 
 in Greek. (Euseb. Vita Constantini, iii. 13.)
 
 Julian 51 
 
 A sudden edict from Constantius removed his two cousins to a 
 rather remote place in Cappadocia. Macellum has been described 
 as a castle or a palace. Very probably it was both. Julian, when 
 he is attacking Constantius' memory, asserts that there he and 
 his brother were shut off from schools, companions and training 
 suitable to their age and rank (Ep. Ath. 271), but from another 
 source we learn it was a place with a magnificent palace, baths, 
 gardens and perpetual springs, where he enjoyed the attention and 
 dignity his rank deserved, and had the literary and gymnastic 
 training usual for youths of his age. (Sozomen v. 2, 9.) His 
 teachers, it is suggested, were Christian clergy, who probably had the 
 less influence for seeming to be the creatures of Constantius 1 . 
 Consequently their instructions had not the charm of Mardonius', 
 and it may be to them that he owes his repugnance for the Bible. 
 It was not admired as a rule by the educated of the day a 
 terrible reflexion on the system that left them incapable of appre- 
 ciating it. Longinus (ix. 9), it is true, quotes the passage "Let 
 there be light : and there was light " as an instance of the sublime, 
 and Porphyry occasionally cites the Old Testament in a friendly 
 spirit, but they are exceptions. Wherever he may first have read 
 the Scriptures, Julian never understood them. He had a good 
 superficial knowledge of them, but no idea of their spirit and 
 significance. The anthropomorphisms of the old Hebrew stories he 
 found less wise and more crude than those of Greek legend ; while, 
 for the New Testament, little is to be expected of a critic who 
 can pronounce that Paul "outdid all the quacks and cheats that 
 ever existed anywhere 2 ." 
 
 Of course he would have no noble companions save his 
 brother, but this was inevitable. Constantius seems to have meant 
 to keep them in reserve, out of his way and safe from plotters who 
 might make tools of them, but still available and properly trained 
 in case of his needing them himself. Later on it was easy to repre- 
 sent these years at Macellum as bleak exile. 
 
 As to Gallus, Julian says that " if there were anything savage 
 and rough that afterwards appeared in his character" (and it 
 seems generally agreed that there was a good deal) " it developed 
 from this long residence in the mountains." Whether Gallus 
 would have done better in Constantinople is very doubtful. Nero, 
 Domitian and Commodus do not seem to have derived much benefit 
 
 1 So Rode, p. 27, and Vollert, p. 15. 
 
 2 See Neumann's reconstruction of his book against the Christians, p. 176. 
 
 4-2
 
 52 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 from the atmosphere of Rome. For himself, "the gods kept him 
 pure by means of philosophy." Some of this "philosophy" was no 
 doubt previously learnt, but some, it is possible, was acquired from 
 the books " many philosophical and many rhetorical " which George 
 (afterwards bishop of Alexandria) "gave him to copy when in Cappa- 
 docia 1 ." There is nothing very original about any of his philo- 
 sophical ideas. 
 
 From Macellum Gallus was summoned to be made Caesar by 
 Constantius, to govern Syria in true tyrant fashion, to rouse the 
 Emperor's ill-will, to be recalled and put to death. Julian later 
 on tried to make political capital out of his being put to death 
 untried, but from the pages of Ammianus Marcellinus we learn 
 that whether tried or not (and those were not days when political 
 offenders were over-nicely tried), Gallus richly deserved his fate. 
 
 The suspicions of Constantius extended to Julian, and for some 
 time he was kept at court under his cousin's eye or within reach. 
 But the Empress Eusebia was his friend, reconciled her husband to 
 him, and obtained leave for him to live in Athens. For this Julian 
 was always grateful to her memory 2 . 
 
 Julian had spent six years at Macellum, and since then had 
 attended at Constantinople and Nicomedeia the lectures of some 
 of the great teachers of the day. He was made to promise he 
 would not hear Libanius, and he kept his promise but obtained 
 written reports of the lectures 3 . He was still nominally a Christian 
 and a "reader," though really at heart a heathen already, when he 
 went to Athens in 355, to meet there men whose acquaintance he 
 counted among the best gifts of his life 4 . 
 
 We have a picture of him drawn by his fellow-student, Gregory 
 
 1 Ep. Ath. 272 A and Ep. 9 (on the rescue of George's books). I owe this 
 suggestion to Vollert, p. 15, and Kode, p. 26. 
 
 2 Oration iii. p. 118 D. 
 
 3 Sievers, op. cit. p. 54 and Eode, p. 29. 
 
 4 An interesting study of students and professors in the Athens of Julian's 
 day will be found in Mr Capes' Unii-ersiti/ Life in Ancient Athens (Longmans). 
 He brings out the connexion between the city government and the "University," 
 which explains Julian's addressing his manifesto in 360 " to the Council and 
 People of the Athenians." It was a little pedantic in any case to send it to 
 Athens at all, but the act is characteristic of Julian. 
 
 See also Sievers, op. cit. ch. iii. on universities, rhetoricians and scholars, 
 and ch. iv. on Athens; and Wachsmuth, Die Stadt Athen im Alterthitm, 
 pp. 709 711, who emphasizes that Athens was purely a university town now 
 and quotes Eunapius (v. Prohaeresii, p. 492) for Constantius' endowment of 
 the university with some islands O{/K 6\iyas ovd /juxpds. The two letters of 
 Synesius, 54 and 136, quoted on p. 337, are of great interest in this connexion 
 though of a later date.
 
 Julian 53 
 
 of Nazianzus 1 , which has been described as "a coarse caricature," 
 but which, nevertheless, seems to me not unlikely to be fairly true 
 if a man's nature does reveal itself in look and gesture. Julian's 
 own writings give us the impression of a fidgety, nervous tem- 
 perament, and his admirer, Ammianus, tells us a number of stories 
 which betray a want of repose. Gregory in Athens remarked (or 
 says he remarked) a certain chaDgeableness and excitability in 
 him, beside a rather loose-hung neck, twitching shoulders, a rolling 
 eye, a laugh uncontrollable and spasmodic, a spluttering speech, 
 and an inability to stand or sit without fidgeting with his feet 2 . 
 All these signs seem to point one way, and if we realize that his 
 temperament was restless, and that his training had not been of a 
 kind to correct his natural tendency to be nervous and emotional, 
 we may find less difficulty in explaining the variety of his religious 
 opinions. 
 
 He enjoyed the student's life, but he was to be called away 
 from it. The exigencies of the Empire had compelled Constantius 
 to associate Gallus with himself as Caesar, and the fact that Gallus 
 had been a failure did not alter the situation. Julian was the 
 only available person to fill his place, and Constantius, with some 
 constitutional hesitation and reluctance, made him Caesar and sent 
 him to Gaul to free the country from German invaders. It was an 
 honour Julian could have done without, and as he drove back to 
 the palace in his purple robe he kept muttering to himself the 
 line of Homer (II v. 83) : 
 
 eXXa/3e Trop(f)vpfos davaros <a\ p.oipa uparairf. 
 Him purple death laid hold on and stern fate. 
 
 The story is told by Ammianus (xv. 8), and it sums up the situation. 
 The scholar is dragged from his study to be invested with the purple, 
 which had been his brother's ruin and may be his own as easily, if a 
 eunuch whisper it at the right moment to the suspicious Constantius ; 
 and he cannot draw back, for stern fate wills it so, and all that the 
 purple means is that he will die with less leisure for the development 
 of his inner life 3 . 
 
 So "torn from the shades of academic calm," Julian was plunged 
 "into the dust of Mars 4 " in Gaul, at first with but little direct 
 
 1 Cited by Socrates, E. H. iii. 23, 18. 
 
 2 Sir William Fraser tells us Disraeli's one mark of nervousness as he sat 
 in Parliament was a restless crossing, uncrossing and re-orossing of his legs. 
 
 3 Amm. Marc. xv. 8, 20: nihil se plus adsecutum quam ut occupatior interpret. 
 
 4 Amm. Marc. xvi. 1, 5.
 
 54 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 responsibility. For this he was very angry with Constantius, though 
 at the time he could say nothing, and he believed (or it was said so) 
 that it was a matter of indifference to the Emperor whether he slew 
 the Germans or the Germans slew him, for in either case the Empire 
 would be freed from menace 1 . But, as Sozomen points out, if 
 Constantius had merely wanted to kill Julian, he could have done it 
 without marrying his own sister 2 to him and putting him in so 
 conspicuous a position. Constantius indeed loved to keep things 
 in such a way as to be able to have both of two mutually exclusive 
 alternatives, but it was surely not strange or outrageous of him to 
 entrust only a little power to begin with to an untried man. As 
 Julian proved himself worthy of more power, and his colleagues 
 shewed themselves unfit for it, Constantius gave him more, till 
 he had supreme command in Gaul. After his wont, however, he 
 surrounded Julian with creatures of his own and withdrew from him 
 almost his only friend in the provinces, the trusty Sallust. 
 
 It was- not to be expected that Julian would be successful as 
 a soldier, but he was. Indeed a modern critic has said that it was 
 only as a soldier that he was great 3 . 1 He was popular with the 
 soldiers, for he would share their privations and he led them to 
 victory. He won the regard of the Gauls by ridding them of the 
 Germans, and by reducing the land tax about 70 per cent., and he 
 had the respect of the Germans 4 , for he could beat them in battle 
 and keep his word with them when his victory was secure. His 
 ambition was to be like the Emperor Marcus Aurelius 5 , and though 
 a different man, and a weaker, he may be said to have resembled 
 him at least in honourable devotion to duty and the cultivation of 
 the higher life. 
 
 1 Zosimus (iii. 1) puts this very amiable suggestion into Eusebia's mouth! 
 
 2 It is curious that Julian only twice refers to her in his extant remains 
 Or. ii. 123 D, Ep. Ath. 284 B. 
 
 3 Boissier, La Fin du Paganisme, i. 138. I do not know enough of military 
 matters to be able to criticize this statement or to give any account of his 
 campaigns that could have an independent value. The reader may be referred 
 to J. F. A. Mucke (Flavins Claudius Julianus, part i. Julian's Kriegsthaten, 
 Gotha 1867) who is however criticized as generally too friendly to Julian, and 
 to W. Koch (Kaiser Julian, Leipzig 1899). Mucke, op. cit. p. 50, calls the 
 German wars "ein grosses Werk, werth der Unsterblichkeit." 
 
 4 He seems to have respected the Germans, remarking their charac- 
 teristics TO <j>i\e\fu0ep6i' re Kal avviroTCLK-rov Tep/jLavuv (Neumann, p. 184). 
 He did not so much admire their beer, disliking its smell, if we may judge 
 from his epigram on it. 
 
 5 Amm. Marc. xxii. 5, 4. Amm. Marc. xvi. 1, 4 rectae perfectaeque rationis 
 indagine congruens Marco ad cujus aemulationem actus suos effingebat et mores. 
 Eutropius x. 16 M. Antonino non absimilis erat quern etiam aemulari studebat. 
 This ambition was avowed likewise by Diocletian (Hist. Aug. M. Antonin. 19).
 
 Julian 55 
 
 He was too successful in Gaul to retain the good-will of 
 Constantius, and the wits of the court amused themselves with 
 jokes about the "goat" (in allusion to his beard), the "purpled 
 monkey," and the " Greek professor 1 /' and with darker insinuations 
 that must ultimately mean death for him. Constantius grew 
 nervous, and, as war with Persia was imminent, he sent to Julian to 
 demand a considerable number of Gallic troops. Whether they 
 were really wanted for the war, or the order was sent merely to 
 weaken Julian, it was a blunder. He could reply that Gaul could 
 not safely be left without them in view of the Germans, and the 
 troops could say, and did say, that the terms of their enlistment 
 exempted them from service so far from home 2 . Julian wrote and 
 the troops mutinied, and exactly what Constantius was trying to 
 prevent occurred. The soldiers hailed Julian Emperor. He was 
 reluctant, but without avail. They raised him aloft on a shield, 
 and crown him they must and would 3 . It is interesting to note 
 that, a crown not unnaturally not being forthcoming, Julian rejected 
 the first two substitutes proposed, a woman's gold chain and some 
 part of a horse's trappings, but submitted to be crowned with a 
 soldier's bracelet (360 A.D.) 4 . 
 
 The fatal step was taken, but it is characteristic of the Eoman 
 Empire, though neither of the men was strictly Roman, that though 
 civil war was inevitable, each should go on with the work he had in 
 hand for the State 5 . Sulla had not returned to deal with his enemies 
 in Italy till he had crushed Mithradates. Negotiations, if such they 
 can be called, went on for a while, till in 361 the two Emperors 
 marched against each other. They never met. Happily for every- 
 body, Constantius died on his march, and all Julian had to do was 
 to have him buried. 
 
 Julian was now sole Emperor, and could at last freely avow the 
 faith he had held in secret for some ten years and openly proceed 
 
 1 Amm. Marc. xvii. 11, 1 Capella non homo loquax talpa purpurata 
 simia litterio Graecus. xx. 4, 1 Constantium urebant Juliani virtutes. 
 Julian himself (Ep. 68) says his relations with Constantius might be summed 
 up as Xu/co0tAi'a. 
 
 2 Amm. Marc. xx. 4, 4. 
 
 3 Cf. Sulpicius Severus Dial. ii. ( = i.) 6, 2 magnum imperium nee sine periculo 
 renui nee sine armis potuit retineri. 
 
 4 Amm. Marc. xx. 4, 17 primis auspiciis non congruere aptari muliebri 
 mundo. The whole affair shews a German rather than a Roman tone prevalent 
 in the army. We may compare Julian's sneer at the usurper Silvanus and his 
 purple robe IK rrjs yvvaiKwiTidos (Oration ii. 98 D a work written some years 
 earlier than this). 
 
 5 Mr Bury, Later Roman Empire, i. 127, n. 4, remarks that Julian, though 
 Greek in sympathies, was in many ways more Roman than Greek.
 
 56 Life and Letters in tJie Fourth Century 
 
 with the religious reformation he intended to effect 1 . He could 
 plead the precedents of Constantine and Constant! us for his attempts 
 to remould the belief of his subjects, and his first step was to recall 
 the Nicene bishops his predecessor had banished and to proclaim 
 toleration for all religions. 
 
 Before following out the steps of his reformation, it will be well 
 to study his own mind and learn if possible how he came to change 
 his faith, and what he found in Hellenism that Christianity could 
 not offer 2 . 
 
 The first thing we have to realize clearly is that Julian was 
 essentially a weak man, by nature inclined to a sentimentalism and 
 a conceit which an evil environment developed. He was not an 
 original thinker at all, but a born disciple, readily amenable to the 
 mysterious and to flattery. 
 
 When the Antiochenes made a watchword of the letters "Chi 
 and Kappa" the initials of Christ and Constantius 3 , it was not a 
 random shot, but a deliberate combination of two names, which 
 were already connected in Julian's mind. Constantius was above all 
 things a Christian Emperor, and a Christian who could not content 
 himself with the popular view of his religion, but kept restlessly 
 intruding into the discussion of theological subtleties, better left to 
 bishops, till he excited the disgust of honest, practical men like 
 Ammianus 4 . And this man, the nervous student of creeds, ever on 
 the alert for a diphthong too many or too few, was also the 
 murderer, who had executed the "tragic curse 5 " on his family, as 
 ready to add Julian to his list of victims as to take part in a battle 
 of bishops. A Christian and a murderer, he was for years the 
 baleful figure in the background of Julian's thoughts. His friends 
 and satellites were no better than he men as unscrupulous in 
 currying favour at court as in maintaining their faith at a council. 
 
 1 He writes to Maximus in triumph (Ep. 38) <f>avepus (3ov9vTov/j.ev. There 
 is a pervert's excess of devotion about him. Ammianus, a pagan born and 
 bred, felt this, and called him superstitiosus magis quam sacrorum legitimus 
 observator (xxv. 4, 17). 
 
 2 On this Wilhelm Vollert's Kaiser Julian's religiose und philosophische 
 Ueberzeugung (Giitersloh 1899) will be found most useful and suggestive. 
 
 Socrates, E. H. iii. 1, has a long chapter devoted to Julian, and a large part of 
 the book (iii.) concerns him. Similarly Sozomen's book v. comprises the story 
 of Julian, and though not perhaps equal to Socrates, contains some important 
 original matter. Theodoret (iii. 28) is a lighter weight. 
 
 In what follows I have generally of set purpose avoided the testimony of the 
 more hostile authorities, not that it is necessarily unreliable. 
 
 3 Misopogon 357 A. 
 
 4 Amm. Marc. xxi. 16, 18. See p. 41. 
 
 5 Or. vii. 228 B ^ rpayiKTi Kardpa.
 
 Julian 57 
 
 On the other side stood the gentle and loyal eunuch Mardonius, 
 as sympathetic a companion for his old master's grandson as he was 
 an interpreter of Homer. Homer was their common study and 
 inspiration, their daily reading, and from him they passed to Plato 
 and perhaps Aristotle. Thus all that was horrible in the life of this 
 sensitive, lonely orphan boy was Christian ; while all that was 
 helpful and delightful was drawn from Greek literature. When 
 this period ended and the boy was sent to Macellum, the Christian 
 clergy and the Christian Scriptures must have been equally repugnant 
 to him, but he was alone (for Gallus could hardly be very congenial) 
 and he allowed himself to be led along Christian paths and to make 
 professions which he did not feel. It was here that he became a 
 " reader." 
 
 Released from Macellum, he began to frequent the company of 
 philosophers and rhetoricians ; and though he was prevented from 
 hearing Libanius 1 , the prohibition did not save him from the 
 influence of this man, the greatest pagan teacher of the day, and 
 perhaps even inclined him to be so influenced. These men were 
 dangerous companions for him, as vain as peacocks (to adapt 
 Synesius' description of Dio) and, as far as men so entirely self- 
 centred could be religious, utterly pagan. 
 
 They read the young prince quickly, they praised him and they 
 encouraged him in his classical studies, they made themselves 
 agreeable to him and they shewed him the beauty and the breadth 
 of Neo-Platonism. Here was a faith, whose scriptures were the 
 beautiful books from which he had learnt his earliest lessons with 
 Mardonius ; a faith which had no persecuting bishops but was 
 quietly upheld by suffering scholars, men of rare genius, the 
 successors of Plato himself; a faith with a range and sweep far 
 beyond the Church's, embracing all the truth and charm of the 
 ancient poetry and philosophy of Hellas and all the passion and 
 revelation of the religions of the East. It was a wider faith than 
 Christianity, including all that was true in Judaism, of which 
 Christianity was after all only a perversion and a misunderstanding. 
 They would not be slow to shew him- the absurdities and contra- 
 dictions of the Old Testament, the difference between the New 
 Testament and Nicene Christianity, and the sublime morality of a 
 Plato and a Plotinus as contrasted with Constantius and his bishops. 
 Surely the truth could not be with the barbarous, dull and incon- 
 
 1 Sievers, Libanius, p. 54. Rode, Gesch. der Reaction Kaiser Julians, p. 29.
 
 58 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 sistent authors of the Christian books rather than with Homer and 
 Plato. 
 
 We can see in his later writings the general trend of the 
 arguments which influenced him against Christianity and the 
 Scriptures and brought him nearer Neo-Platonism. But there 
 was more. He was young and sentimental, and the sufferings 
 of the old religion and its adherents, which, as we can read in 
 Hermes Trismegistus, were keenly felt, would be emphasized and 
 the hope held out that on some future day he might himself be 
 the restorer of the faith, to which Constantine and Constantius 
 had done such injury. He might indeed be himself the chosen 
 messenger of heaven, for it was a Neo-Platonic doctrine that the 
 gods stoop to give mankind a saviour and a regenerator whenever 
 the divine impulse in the world is in danger of being exhausted '. 
 It might be that his name would be thus added to those of Dionysus 
 and Herakles. This thought, whoever may have inspired it, was 
 never lost by Julian, and its fatal consequences may be seen in the 
 ever-increasing arrogance and self-conceit which mark his career. 
 
 To crown all, Julian came under the influence of "a certain 
 Maximus, who at that time wore the outward look of a philosopher 
 but was a magician and boasted he could foretell the future 2 ." In 
 these words of a Christian historian we have a true description of 
 the man who did most to ruin Julian's character. Neo-Platonism 
 made communion with the Supreme one of its cardinal doctrines, 
 but while Plotinus and his followers pronounced this communion to 
 be dependent on contemplation and a matter of consecrated intelli- 
 gence, another school took the easier and more imposing route of 
 theurgy. By theurgy, which Augustine says is merely a more 
 splendid name for magic, by charm and ritual, by fast and offering, 
 heaven could be stormed. .The gods could be "compelled" (dvay- 
 Kd&tv) to speak, and more, to appear in bodily form before their 
 worshipper. The theurgist held secrets which enabled him to 
 command the attention and the presence of the gods at will, and 
 of this school Maximus "was at this time the most eminent. The 
 mind of Julian was prepared for him. They met, and, though 
 
 1 Synesius, de Prov. i. 10, 11. 
 
 2 Theodoret in. 28, 2. Hellenism did not produce many martyrs, and an 
 attempt has been made to beatify Maximus to fill the gap, but the true charge 
 on which he was put to death, on which Christians also were often enough 
 put to death, was magic. Magic may seem to us a harmless thing if foolish, 
 but to the Roman government it generally connoted political disaffection, as it 
 does in modern China. The context of Amm. Marc. xxix. 1, 42 implies that 
 this was a political case. Vollert pp. 18 23 is excellent on Maximus.
 
 Julian 59 
 
 circumstances for a while parted them, Julian never shook off the 
 influence of this quack, but to the end of his days had for him a 
 deep affection and respect, almost awe 1 . 
 
 But for some ten years, however much he might fancy himself a 
 new Dionysus, and whatever delight he might draw from intercourse 
 with the gods 2 , he had to practise deceit, to hide his powers of 
 commanding heaven, to cloak his own godhead. It was not a good 
 training a conscious godhead, the control of gods and constant 
 hypocrisy. It weakened Julian and accentuated his natural de- 
 ficiencies. The marvel is that he suffered so little, and the reason 
 perhaps lay in the steadying fear of Constantius, for when that was 
 removed Julian rapidly lost in sense and self-control. 
 
 It will hardly be necessary to attempt a systematic exposition of 
 his theology, which is neither original nor clear, but it may be of 
 interest to see what Neo-Platonism as a religion offered him for the 
 daily affairs of life. He had gone to Athens already a heathen in 
 heart, and thence he was summoned to Milan, to be made Caesar 
 eventually, though this was not quite clear at first. " What floods 
 of tears and what wailings I poured forth," he writes to the 
 Athenians, "how I lifted up my hands to your Acropolis, when 
 this summons came to me, and besought Athena 3 to save her 
 suppliant and not forsake me, many of you saw and can testify ; 
 and above all the goddess herself, how I asked that I might die 
 there in Athens rather than face that journey. That the goddess 
 did not betray nor forsake her suppliant, she shewed by what she 
 did. For she led the way for me everywhere and set around me on 
 every side angels (or messengers) from the Sun and Moon to guard 
 me. And it befel thus. I went to Milan and lived in a suburb. 
 Thither Eusebia used often to send to me in a kindly spirit and bid 
 me boldly write for whatever I would. I wrote her a letter, or 
 rather a supplication, with language of this nature, 'So may you 
 
 1 His public attentions to Maximus annoyed Ammianus, who sums them 
 up as ostentatio intempestiva. xxii. 7, 3. The historian was perhaps more 
 genuinely Roman than his hero. 
 
 2 Or. v. 180 B evdai/JLoviav ijs rb Kf(f>d\aioi> ij r&v 6edv yv&ffis <TTI. 
 
 3 The hymn of Proclus to Athena is an interesting parallel. He prays 
 Athena of the Athenian Acropolis for mental light, forgiveness of sin, freedom 
 from disease, a fair gale on the voyage of life, children, wife and wealth, oratory 
 and eminence (irpoe5peit)v d' evl Xaotj). Proclus, it may be added, was the 
 philosopher of the fifth century A.D., who won the proud title of 6 Stddoxos 
 the successor, i.e. of Plato! The prayers of Synesius, both as a Neo-Platonist 
 and as a Christian, were mainly for freedom from anxieties, from attacks of 
 demons and from the influence of matter. He also prays that he may be 
 enabled to act worthily of Sparta and Cyrene.
 
 60 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 have heirs, so may God give you such and such, send me home as 
 soon as possible' ; but then I thought it might not be safe to send 
 such a letter to the palace to the Emperor's wife. So I besought 
 the gods by night to shew me whether I ought to send the document 
 to the Empress. And they threatened me with a shameful death 
 if I sent it. And that this is true I call all the gods to witness. 
 So I refrained from sending the letter. From that night a reflexion 
 came to me which it is, perhaps, worth while you should hear. 
 Now, said I, I am thinking of resisting the gods, and I have thought 
 I could better plan for myself than they who know all things. Yet 
 human reason looking only at what is present is lucky if it can just 
 
 avoid error for a little but the thought of the gods looks afar, 
 
 nay, surveys all, and gives the right bidding and does what is 
 better ; for as they are authors of what is, so are they of what will 
 be. They must then have knowledge to deal with the present. 
 For the while, my change of mind seemed wiser on that score, but 
 when I looked at the justice of the matter I said, So you are angry, 
 are you ? if one of your animals rob you of your use of itself, 
 or run away when called a horse, perhaps, or a sheep or a cow 
 and yet you yourself who would be a man, and not one of the 
 many or the baser sort either, rob the gods of yourself and do not 
 let them use you for what they would. Look to it that, in addition 
 to being very foolish, you are not also sinning against the gods. 
 And your courage, where is it ? Absurd ! You are ready to toady 
 and cringe for fear of death, though you might cast all aside and 
 trust the gods to do as they will and divide with them the care for 
 yourself, as Socrates bade, and do what concerns you as best you 
 can and leave the whole to them, hold nothing, catch at nothing, 
 but accept what they offer in peace. This I considered not merely 
 a safe but a fitting line of conduct for a wise man... and I obeyed 
 and was made Caesar 1 ." (Ep. Ath. 275 7.) 
 
 Ever thereafter he walks by faith, trusting the gods to look after 
 him 2 . While in Gaul he wrote two panegyrics on Constantius, 
 
 1 We may add his expression of acceptance of the Divine Will Or. vii. 
 232 D xP^vQt f- 01 ^po* ^ ri @o6\faOe. Similar views will be found in other 
 Neo-Platonists, e.g. Hermes Trism. (Bipontine edition of Apuleius, vol. ii. 
 p. 313) Justo homini in Dei religione et in summa pietate praesidium est. 
 Deus enim tales ab omnibus tutatur mails ; and Porphyry to Marcella, esp. c. 16 
 xal TifA-f)(Tfis fj.v apiffTa TOV dfbv i)Tav TQ 6f<^ TT\v ffavTrjs Sidvoiav 6/ioiu><T77s...ei' 5e 
 Xd/pei T(f> dpxofJ.ti'iji rb apxov KCLI #eoj ffo<f>ov K^derai KO.I TrpovoeT. KO.L Sid TOUTO 
 /xa/cdptos 6 cr6005 OTI eTrir/jOTretfercu inrb Oeov. 
 
 2 See his myth in Or. vii. 233 D ^uets yap aoi (the gods say) w 
 avve<r6fj.f6a.
 
 Julian 61 
 
 which does not seem an entirely honest performance. But perhaps, 
 as Vollert (p. 86) suggests, he is ironical, and he is certainly not 
 exuberant, though a reader, who did not well know their relations, 
 might feel more kindly to Constantius from what he says of him. 
 But I refer to them because, beside doing his duty as a citizen by 
 his ruler, he yields to his besetting temptation which clung to him 
 through life, and preaches. In the second panegyric he says, " The 
 man, and still more the ruler, all whose hopes of happiness depend 
 on God and are not blown about by other men, he has made the 
 best disposal of his life 1 ." (Or. ii. 118c.) In a very undisguised 
 homily he wrote in Gaul on the Mother of the Gods, he gives thanks 
 that, whereas he was once in Christian darkness, he is not now 2 . 
 When Constantius recalled Sallust, Julian consoled himself with 
 another homily : "Perhaps the god," he says, "will devise something 
 good ; for it is not likely that a man, who has entrusted himself 
 to the higher power, will be altogether neglected or left utterly 
 alone." (Or. viii. 249.) (We do not always allow enough for the 
 awful loneliness of a monarch or of one in Julian's position, yet 
 it must be considered in estimating them.) " It is not right," 
 he goes on, "to praise the great men of old without imitating 
 them, nor to suppose that God eagerly (TT/DO^/AWS) helped them but 
 will disregard those who to-day lay hold on virtue, for whose sake 
 God rejoiced in them 3 ." 
 
 He feels that in a very special sense he is the chosen vessel of 
 heaven. In his myth 4 in his seventh oration the conclusion of a 
 very easily-read riddle is that he, the least and last of his house, is 
 directly chosen by the gods to restore the old faith, and to this end 
 is particularly entrusted by Zeus to the care of Helios the Sun. 
 In his letter to Themistius he accepts the r6le of a Herakles or a 
 Dionysus, king and prophet at once ; he feels the burden more than 
 man can bear, but neither desire to avoid toil, nor quest of pleasure, 
 nor love of ease, shall turn him away from the life of duty. He fears 
 he may fail in his great task, but he counts on aid from the 
 philosophers and above all commits everything to the gods 5 . 
 
 In the moment, perhaps the supreme moment of his life, when 
 the soldiers sought him to hail him Emperor, he tells us he was in 
 
 1 Cf. Dio Chrys. de Regno, Or. i. 15. 
 
 2 Or. v. 174 B; so also Or. iv. 131 A. 3 Compare also Or. vii. 212s. 
 
 4 " Dans toute cette allegoric Jujien ne fait que se repeter a lui-meme, Tu 
 Marcellus eris." Chassang, Hist, du Roman, p. 194. 
 
 5 Notice in the concluding prayer to Cybele in Or. v. an entreaty that 
 she will aid T< 'Pufj.aiwv Sri/jUf. /udXierra yuep a.TroTpi\//acr6ai Trjs a.6f6Tt)TOS Kr]\iSa.
 
 62 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 his chamber "and thence I prayed to Zeus. And as the noise 
 grew louder and louder, and all was in confusion in the palace, 
 I besought the god to send a token, and forthwith he sent a token 
 [he quotes a word or two from the Odyssey] ' and bade obey and not 
 resist the will of the army. Yet, though these signs were given 
 me, I did not readily yield, but held out as long as I could, and 
 would accept neither the title nor the crown. But as one man 
 I could not prevail over so many, and the gods, who willed this to 
 be, urged them on and worked upon my will. So about the third 
 hour, some soldier tendering his bracelet, I put it on with reluctance 
 and went into the palace, groaning from my heart within as the 
 gods know. And yet I ought, I suppose, to have been of good 
 courage and trusted to the god who gave the token, but I was 
 terribly ashamed and wanted to escape, in case I should seem not to 
 have been faithful to Constantius 2 ." (Ep. Ath. 284 c.) 
 
 Elsewhere, in the Misopogon (352 D), which is not, like the letter 
 just quoted, a manifesto of the date of his revolt, he uses the same 
 language. " This office the gods gave me, using great violence, 
 believe me, both with the giver (Constantius presumably) and the 
 receiver. For neither of us seemed to wish it, neither he who gave 
 me the honour or favour, or whatever you like to call it and he 
 who received it, as all the gods know, refused it in all sincerity." 
 Again, writing to his uncle Julian (Ep. 13) he says, "Why did I march 
 (against Constantius) ? Because the gods expressly bade me, pro- 
 mising me safety if 1 obeyed, but if I stayed what I would have no 
 
 god do So I marched, trusting all to fortune and the gods, and 
 
 content to abide by whatever pleased their goodness." Before he 
 started he "referred all to the gods who see and hear all things, 
 and then sacrificed, and the omens were favourable." (Ep. Ath. 
 286 D.) In this feeling of dependence on heaven and the constant 
 reference of everything to the divine he is very like Constantine, his 
 uncle. 
 
 The preceding Emperors had left him precedents for the imperial 
 control of religion, and when Julian found himself at last sole 
 
 1 But he does not say what the token was the line of Homer (Od. iii. 173) 
 merely illustrates his request and its gratification. It was believed at the time 
 that the philosophers by the aid of magic and theurgic rites had not unfrequently 
 such manifestations. 
 
 2 The same kind of plea, however, was made twenty years later by the 
 tyrant Maximus to St Martin. (Sulp. Sev., vita Mart., 20.) se non sponte 
 sumpsisse imperium sed impositam sibi a militibus diviuo until regni necessi- 
 tatem defendisse et non alienam ab eo Dei voluntatem videri, penes quern tarn 
 incredibili eventu victoria fuisset.
 
 Julian 63 
 
 Emperor, with power to carry out in act the restoration which he 
 had long felt was laid upon him by Heaven, he had to consider 
 practical measures for the maintenance and propagation of his 
 religion. He saw at once its weakness. The old faith, which he 
 re-christened Hellenism, fell short of the new both in creed and 
 conduct. Three centuries of Christian experience and thought had 
 built up a body of doctrine, point by point tried and proved, and 
 the Christian could rest on the rock of the Church. The heathen 
 had no dogma, no certainty. This philosopher said one thing, and 
 that another, and every man could choose for himself and be 
 uncertain, solitary, a lonely speculator, when he had chosen 1 . 
 Hence the Church was stronger than her adversaries. To meet 
 this difficulty Julian revived Maximin Daja's great idea of the 
 Holy Catholic Church of Hellenism 2 . All the great philosophers 
 conspired to witness to the truth ; all said, if rightly understood, 
 one thing 3 . By dint of a little confusion, a little judicious blind- 
 ness, one might believe this. Thus the teachings of the Neo- 
 Platonists were not mere "hypotheses" but genuine "dogmata," 
 and rested on a solid basis (Or. iv. 148). As substitutes for the 
 Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost he set the usual group of 
 Neo-Platonic conceptions, to which he linked the gods, proceeding 
 from the great original TO 6V, oAos or oXy t o\ov. The Sun played 
 a great part in all these speculations, " for whom and by whom are 
 all things 4 ." The Jews were built into the wondrous fabric, for 
 they, too, worshipped the great Supreme, though clannish narrow- 
 ness made them exclude the other gods 5 . What were the relative 
 places of these other gods, whether separate beings or merely 
 different names for one being, it is a little difficult severally to 
 
 1 Cf. Lucian's Hermotimus, a great part of which may be read in Mr Pater's 
 English in Marius the Epicurean. A good criticism of this piece of Lucian's 
 is given by Chassang, Hist, du Roman, pp. 191 2. 
 
 2 Eusebius, E. H., ix. 4, and Lactantius, M. P. 36. 
 
 3 Or. vi. 185 A TOI)S Trpwreiycracras 5 iv exdcrrr; TUV alpeffew ffKoireiru Kal 
 iravra. fup^ffei ffufj.<pd}va. 
 
 4 For the adoration of the Sun compare the hymn of Proclus (412 485 A.D.), 
 e.g. 1. 34 : 
 
 fiKuv Trayyevtrao ffeov, \^vxCjv dvaywyev, 
 
 K^K\vOi Kal fji.e KaO-rjpov a/J-aprddos alev awdtrris, Kre. 
 
 5 Julian seems always to have been very friendly toward the Jews, and 
 endeavoured at one time to rebuild the Temple for them, but the design fell 
 through, baffled by the accident or miracle of fire and earthquake. See Ep. 25, 
 a striking letter, and Ep. 63. 
 
 Elsewhere (Neumann, op. cit., p. 185) he says the Jewish god is in charge 
 of the Jewish race just as there is icad' ZKOLVTOV Zdvos iffvdpxris TIS 0e6s ; (p. 178) 
 irpoa"r]KL TOV ru>v 'Efipaiwv 6ebv oi)%i 5rj iravrbs Kbff/nov yeveffiovpybv virap^eLV (AtaOai. 
 Kal KaTf^ovcnd^eiv T&V oXcav.
 
 64 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 determine, but his system of Divinity had but a very few years 
 to grow in and must not be inspected too closely, as at best it 
 was but patchwork. His homilies were generally "knocked off" 
 in two or perhaps three nights, "as the Muses can testify 1 ." They 
 ramble and digress and leave us confused. But the great thing 
 was that Hellenism had a system of Divinity and that all the 
 philosophers bore witness to it. If it were a little abstract, it was 
 not after all for the common people 2 . This was a fatal weakness, 
 but it could hardly be helped. 
 
 In the second place there was no doubt in Julian's mind that his 
 new Catholic Church suffered from disorder, and from the careless 
 lives of its adherents. He tried to organize his priesthood and to 
 improve their morals. He is most emphatic on their sacred character, 
 which he means to make others respect, and which the priests would 
 do well to respect themselves. He writes them charges like a 
 bishop 3 , lecturing them on their social deportment and on their 
 sacred duties. They must not frequent theatres or wine-shops, nor 
 read erotic novels 4 or infidel books like the works of Epicurus 5 
 ("most of which the gods, I am glad to say, have allowed to 
 perish"); they must speak and think no unseemly thing. Their 
 families must be orderly and go regularly to the temples 6 . Their 
 sacred robes are for temple use, for the honour of the gods, not to 
 flaunt in the streets. Decencies must be observed in temple service 7 . 
 The magistrate or officer within temple walls is as any other man. 
 He is annoyed when men applaud him in a temple 8 ; there they 
 must adore the gods and not the Emperor. Again, the Galilaeans 
 (for so he calls the Christians) beside influencing people by their 
 
 1 Cf. Or. vi. 203 c. 
 
 2 Or. vi. 196 D, robs /JLV oSv ?roXXoi;s ovdtv KwXtfei rats KOIVCUS i-irtffOai 56cus 
 a common feeling of Neo-Platonists. 
 
 3 E.g. Ep. 49 from which I have taken some of what follows. Harnack 
 (Histoi~y of Dogma, tr. vol. i. p. 336) remarks that "the ethical temper 
 which Neo-Platonism sought to beget and confirm was the highest and purest 
 which the culture of the ancient world produced." 
 
 4 Kohde, der gr. Roman, p. 349, calls attention to this prohibition as a 
 striking proof of the wide and general popularity of such novels in Julian's day. 
 
 5 Epicurus and his school were hated by all the adherents of the pagan 
 revival from the days of Lucian. Cf. Macrobius, Comm. i. 2, 3. Lucian's sham 
 prophet Alexander had coupled them with the Christians, Alex. 38. 
 
 6 He was highly annoyed to find that the wives and families of some of his 
 priests preferred the churches. Sozomen v. 16. 
 
 7 In Ep. 56 he directs that attention be paid to sacred music in Alexandria, 
 T^J ie/oaj firifMf\-i]6fji'ai fj.ov<riKr)s, and that choir boys of good birth (eB yeyovbres) 
 be chosen for their voices CK Quvrjs KaraXcyfoduo-av, trained and maintained 
 at the public charges. 
 
 8 Ep. 64.
 
 Julian 65 
 
 sober lives gain great influence by their hospitality to the poor and 
 the wayfarer, and to counteract this Julian ordains great guest- 
 houses and provision for their maintenance, that Hellenism, too, 
 may win men by its charities. Above all things he preaches holiness. 
 All service done in holiness to the gods is alike acceptable 1 . 
 
 One thing was wanting. When this life is done, the Christian 
 Church offers a sure and certain hope of a joyful resurrection. 
 What had the Catholic Church of Hellenism to bid against this ? 
 Neo-Platonism, as we can see in Macrobius, in Hermes and else- 
 where, inclined to a belief in reward and punishment beyond the 
 grave. Even Plotinus holds that a man's position in the next life 
 is determined by what he has reached in this. Julian no doubt 
 went with his teachers here as elsewhere, but he does not speak so 
 clearly of the other life as we might have expected of him. In one 
 place (Fragm. Epist. 300) he writes hopefully: "Consider the 
 goodness of God, who says he rejoices as much in the mind of the 
 godly as in purest Olympus. Surely we may expect that he (TraWws 
 TJIMV OUTOS) will bring up from darkness and Tartarus the souls of us 
 who draw near to him in godliness ? For he knows them also who 
 are shut up in Tartarus, for even that is not outside the realm of 
 the gods, but he promises to the godly Olympus instead of Tartarus." 
 In another place (Or. iv. 136 A, B) he says that the souls of those 
 who have lived well and righteously will go upward to Serapis 
 not the dread Serapis of the myths, but the kind and gentle god 
 who sets the souls utterly free from becoming or birth 
 and does not, when once they are free, nail them down 
 to other bodies by way of punishment, but bears them upward and 
 brings them into the intelligible world the region next to Absolute 
 Being, according to the Neo-Platonists. 
 
 There is however another passage, where one feels it odd that he 
 says nothing of all this. In Letter 37 he writes to a friend to say 
 he wept to hear of the death of the friend's wife, but here is 
 nepenthes for him as good as Helen's. Democritus of Abdera told 
 King Darius, who was sorrowing for his queen, that he could raise 
 her from the dead, if he would write on her grave the names of three 
 that never were in mourning. " But if you cannot, why weep as if 
 you alone know such a sorrow ? " The same story, or one very like 
 it, is told of Buddha, but its comfort is a little cold. 
 
 1 Some of his ideas are cnrious : e.g. funerals by day dishonour the Sun 
 (Ep. 77) eis ov Trdvra. KO.I f ov iravra. 
 
 o. 5
 
 66 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Julian's relations with the Christian Church remain to be 
 discussed 1 . To an erring priest he wrote (Ep. 62) that he would 
 not curse him, as he does not think it right, for he remarks that 
 the gods never do it. It was only consistent with such a temper 
 not to persecute, and he sedulously maintained that he did not and 
 would not. But, says Ammianus 2 , on the bench he sometimes 
 asked litigants their religion, though it never affected his decisions. 
 While all creeds were lawful, he felt it only right to give higher 
 honour to the true faith and its adherents. Any other course 
 would be dishonouring to the gods 3 . But, of course, this was not 
 persecution. When he recalled the exiled bishops, when he made 
 the Catholic restore Novatian churches, when he coquetted with 
 Donatists, he was only carrying out a liberal measure of toleration. 
 No doubt, but English Nonconformists have never felt specially 
 indebted to James II. Heathen men said Julian recalled the exiles 
 to kindle anew the flames of discord in the Churches 4 . But it was 
 bad policy. Niceue and Arian were at least unanimous in opposing 
 a heathen. Moreover when the two parties were thus left on an 
 equal footing, and the Nicenes had their leaders again, the Nicene 
 party gained ground steadily, and they after all were the more 
 serious opponents 5 . When he forced bishops to rebuild heathen 
 temples they had destroyed, they called out on persecution ; they, 
 too, had consciences and might destroy but could not build up 
 heathenism. So far, perhaps, no one could say Julian was strictly 
 unjust. But when the mob of Alexandria rose and slew George the 
 bishop, all he did was to write a letter of gentle rebuke they ought 
 not to have broken the law ; they should have trusted to him and 
 justice ; but for Serapis' sake and his uncle Julian's he would 
 forgive them (Ep. 10). Indeed he seems to have been less anxious 
 that no more bishops should be killed than that none of George's 
 books should be lost (Epp. 9, 36). When bishop Titus of Bostra 6 
 wrote to inform him of his efforts and his clergy's to preserve the 
 peace, he wrote to the people of Bostra and put an unpleasant 
 
 1 In addition to the books dealing specifically with this (to which I have 
 already referred) Sievers, Leben des Libanius, c. xi., may be consulted. 
 
 2 Amrn. Marc. xxii. 10, 2. 
 
 3 Ep. 1 irpoTifj.a.ffda.1 /JLCVTOI TOI>S Ofoatfiels /cat ird.vv <}>r)/j.l delv. 
 * Amm. Marc. xxii. 5, 4 is very explicit about this. 
 
 5 See Gwatkin's Studies in Arianism, ch. vi. p. 201 (first edition). I am 
 afraid I do not take so high a view of Julian as my former teacher does, 
 though I once inclined to take a higher. 
 
 6 Famous otherwise as the author of three books against Mani extant 
 partly in Greek and partly or wholly in Syriac.
 
 Julian 67 
 
 construction on the bishop's letter, and invited them to rid them- 
 selves of him. (Ep. 52, August 362.) The Emesenes burnt the 
 tombs of the Christians, and were held up in consequence as an 
 example to easy-going Antioch (Misopogon, 357 c). But of all men 
 Julian hated Athanasius most, the man who seemed, as Vollert says, 
 to unite in himself all the force of Christendom. The bishop in 
 virtue of the decree of recall had returned to his see of Alexandria. 
 Julian wrote to the Alexandrians in March, 362, to say he had 
 never meant to recall the bishops to their sees ; it was enough for 
 them not to be in exile ; Athanasius, who has been banished by so 
 many decrees of so many Emperors, might have had the decency to 
 wait for one restoring him to his so-called episcopal throne before 
 boldly claiming it to the annoyance of pious Alexandrians ; he must 
 now depart (Ep. 26). When, instead of going into exile, Athanasius 
 dared to baptize some Greek ladies, Julian wrote in October of the 
 same year peremptorily ordering his removal (Ep. 6). A month or 
 so later he had to write again, for he had miscalculated Athanasius' 
 influence in Alexandria. He is surprised and shocked at the 
 Alexandrians, but they may trust him, for he knows all about 
 Christianity after twenty years of it, and now he has been following 
 the gods twelve years. Still, if they will not be converted, there are 
 other possible bishops beside Athanasius, whom he banishes from 
 the whole of Egypt (Ep. 51)'. The great bishop was not concerned. 
 " It is but a little cloud and will pass," he said 2 , and went into 
 hiding in Alexandria itself, and in less than a year the little cloud 
 had passed away and he was free again. 
 
 Gregory of Nazianzus said Julian veiled his persecution under a 
 show of reasonableness 3 , and it may be held that nothing very 
 terrible has been mentioned as yet. Perhaps it was not going too 
 far when he cancelled all the immunities and exemptions granted to 
 the clergy by Constantine and Constantius, though if he did (as 
 alleged 4 ) compel widows and virgins to refund grants made to them 
 in past years, he would seem to have been a little too exacting. 
 But a zealot, whose principle is the equality of all sects and the 
 preference of one, stands in slippery places. The Syrian historian 
 is highly indignant about this robbing of the Churches. Western 
 indignation was greater on another score, as we shall see. The 
 
 1 He concludes with a flout at Athanasius' person /n?5 dvrip, d\X' avdpu- 
 iriffKos eirreXrfc which, if a little unnecessary, still reveals one side of his 
 own character. 
 
 2 So,zomen, v. 15, 3. 
 
 3 x. p. 166 : ap. Sievers, op. cit., p. 118. 4 Sozomen, v. 5. 
 
 52
 
 68 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 great old centre of Christianity in Syria was Edessa, and the Arian 
 Church there, by its attack on the Valentinians, gave Julian an 
 opportunity which he gladly seized. He confiscated the Church 
 property by an edict, assigning as one of his grounds "Blessed 
 are ye poor, for yours is the kingdom of heaven 1 ." This may have 
 been rough and ready justice, but the next step to which I refer was 
 oppression of a most irritating kind. 
 
 It is a strange thing, perhaps, in view of the general carelessness 
 about education, that a government has only to incur suspicion of 
 playing with it in the interests of one or another religion to arouse 
 ill-will. Of all acts passed to worry the English Nonconformists, 
 few angered and alarmed them so much as that of Queen Anne's 
 reign, which checked their educational freedom. In the same way 
 Julian roused the Church to fury through the western world by a 
 rescript forbidding to Christians the teaching of ancient literature. 
 It was in more ways than one an unhappy thing for his new 
 Catholic Church that the real Catholic Church was devoted to 
 the old literature. In the east Christians read Homer and Plato, 
 and in the west they steeped themselves in Virgil and Cicero, and 
 in both east and west they were a match for the heathen in all 
 things pertaining to a liberal education, more than a match, for 
 there is a marked difference in general between heathen and 
 Christian writing of the day. This was unfortunate for Julian, 
 for it disproved one of his theories that the Galilaeans were 
 illiterate and barbarous and divorced from that ancient world 
 which meant so much to all educated people. If his theory had 
 been right, his policy was absurd and unnecessary; but he bore 
 witness against himself, that Christians were not without a share 
 in the old culture. He realized in fact that they valued it so 
 highly that they would not give it up. Accordingly he enacted 2 
 in June 362 that whereas a man cannot teach aright what he 
 believes to be wrong, and whereas it is highly desirable that 
 those who teach the young should be honest men, and it is 
 incompatible with honesty for a Christian to expound the poets, 
 orators and historians of old, who held themselves (Thucydides 3 
 
 1 Ep. 43 &' els TTJV paffiXetav rCiv ovpavdjv evodurepov iropevduiffi. 
 
 2 See Ep. 42. Without citing Christian testimony, it is enough to quote 
 the opinion of an honourable heathen, Ammianus, who pronounces this 
 decree obruendum perenni silentio (xxii. 10, 7). Comparetti, Vergil in the Middle 
 Ages (tr.), p. 80, gives a good account of this decree, its meaning and results. 
 
 3 On the other hand, Dean Stanley (Eastern Church, Lect. i. p. 123) says, 
 "Along the porticos of Eastern Churches are to be seen portrayed on the
 
 Julian 69 
 
 among them, it seems) sacred to the gods, while he himself believes 
 in no gods, henceforth it is forbidden to Christians to teach ancient 
 literature, unless they first prove in deed their honesty and piety by 
 sacrificing to the gods. This edict was to produce one or both of 
 two results, either young Christians must grow up without classical 
 education, which was not likely to be their choice, or they must go 
 to the schools of heathen, who would if they did their duty give 
 them a bias toward Hellenism. Probably Julian was thinking of 
 his own youthful studies, but heathen teachers were not all alike 
 and were not in general propagandists. 
 
 The immediate result of the decree was that some of the 
 most famous teachers of the day threw up their profession. Then 
 came a strange phenomenon 1 . A father and son, both called 
 Apollinaris, set to work and made a new Homer out of the 
 Pentateuch, and a Plato out of the Gospels. It has been suggested 
 that the Christian people admired these works, but from the 
 synchronism of their disappearance with the death of Julian it 
 seems that Socrates, the most admirable of Church historians, 
 is representing the common view when he applauds them rather 
 as products of enthusiasm than as literature. If the Apollinares 
 failed of fame as authors, the younger, the Gospel Platonist, 
 made his mark in Church History as an independent thinker, 
 though the Church did not finally accept his views. Another 
 result of this decree was that Valentinian and Valens two years 
 later began anti-pagan legislation with an edict forbidding the 
 performance by night of heathen rites and sacrifices. Julian had 
 made the declaration of war and Christian Emperors accepted it. 
 In yet another way the decree had a great effect, for it emphasized 
 the distinction between Christianity and pagan philosophy, and 
 while, as Prof. Gwatkin 2 says, this told heavily against Arianism 
 at once, it was not in the long run a good thing for the Church 
 to doubt the value of ancient wisdom and poetry. " In the 
 triumph of Christianity," writes a recent biographer of Julian 3 , 
 "he foresaw the Dark Ages." This is a most extravagant state- 
 walls the figures of Homer, Solon, Thucydides, Pythagoras and Plato, as 
 pioneers preparing the way for Christianity. " We may wonder which character 
 would have most surprised Thucydides. 
 
 1 Socrates, iii. 16, 1. 
 
 2 Studies in Arianism, p. 199. 
 
 3 See Julian the Philosopher (p. 174), in the Heroes of the Nations Series, a 
 careful work but marred by the writer's admiration for Julian and a mis 
 understanding of his opponents. It would perhaps hardly be going too far to 
 call the book an apology for Julian.
 
 70 Life and Letters in Hie Fourth Century 
 
 ment, but, if Christianity and the "Dark Ages" are connected at 
 all, it is in some measure the result of this prescient pagan's decree. 
 Christianity is really no more responsible for the "Dark Ages" 
 than is Neo-Platonism. 
 
 Such, then, was Julian's religious policy, but what was its 
 success ? Was society with him ? It might be expected that the 
 hour for a reaction had come, and there were certainly a good many 
 heathen left. The philosophers, whose spirit he had caught, and 
 the nobility of the city of Rome, with whom he had no relations, 
 were ready to welcome a return to the old ways. But Julian was 
 at heart a Greek, leaning eastwards, and had not much support in 
 Italy, while the philosophers, after all, were out of touch with the 
 world at large. It must be confessed that the reaction was not 
 very spontaneous ; it was an attempt to galvanize a revival by the 
 fiat of a ruler, and though there was an appearance of life about it, 
 it was not living. Julian has to admit (Ep. 49) that Hellenism 
 does not yet thrive as he would wish, but the fault does not 
 lie with the gods, but with their worshippers. The heathen were 
 past revival. They might resent being forced into the background 
 by the Christians, but they only wished to live in quiet as they 
 pleased. They had no mind for martyrdom, and almost as little for 
 Julian's violent revivalism. They would not be regular in attendance 
 at temples, they did not care to sacrifice very much, and in short 
 they would make no efforts for their religion. The women, as 
 Julian himself complained, were against him (Misop. 363 A). The 
 mob enjoyed breaking Christian heads 1 , and creatures of the court 
 affected conversion and a quickened life, but Julian was hardly 
 pleased with either. He had practically no converts from among 
 the Christians none of any weight. Hecebolius, a rhetorician, 
 came over, to return to the Church promptly on Julian's death. A 
 bishop, Pegasius, who seems to have been a pagan at heart under 
 his episcopal robes, now avowed his faith or un faith 2 . 
 
 Julian had a measure of support in the army, which had a 
 large non-Roman element, which was not Christian 3 , but such 
 officers as Jovian and Valentinian were probably not alone in being 
 loyal to the Christian faith. In fact, from whatever point of view, 
 
 1 Theodoret (iii. 6) gives a lively picture of heathen processions "Cory- 
 banting" through the streets (\vrrwvTfs /cat KopvfiavTi&vTts) and abusing the 
 saints. He adds the information that they got as good as they gave, without 
 much advantage to public order. 
 
 2 See Ep. 78, a very interesting letter, for this curious person. 
 
 3 Sievers, Libanius, ch. xi. p. 109.
 
 Julian 71 
 
 the revival was a failure from the beginning, and the final proof of 
 this was given by its complete collapse on Julian's death. 
 
 Julian's reign was short (361-363), and the most interesting 
 part of its history is the period he spent at Antioch 1 . He reached 
 there in 362, and personally conducted his pagan campaign. There 
 was a considerable number of pagans in the city, but, though he 
 was well received and made bids for their good-will, the pleasure- 
 loving populace was no more to be influenced by Julian's exhorta- 
 tions to a godly, righteous and sober life than by Chrysostom's 
 twenty years later. His attempt to transform Daphne from a 
 pleasure resort to a shrine again was a ludicrous miscarriage. A 
 martyr, Babylas, had been buried there by none other than the 
 Emperor's own brother, Gallus 2 , and before a martyr Apollo was 
 mute. Julian ordered the "dead body 3 " to be removed, and it was 
 removed by a great procession singing, "Confounded be all they 
 that serve graven images 4 ." One of the singers was arrested and 
 tortured, so angry was Julian, but only one ; for his constancy 
 shewed what might be expected from others, and Julian resolved to 
 "grudge the honour of martyrdom 5 ." 
 
 His failure as a revivalist was supplemented in Antioch by his 
 blunders as an economist B . He was massing forces there and prices 
 rose in consequence. The mob however did not understand how 
 prices were so high, and greeted the Emperor with the cry, " Every- 
 thing plentiful, everything dear." Anxious to win applause, for 
 his admirer Ammianus says he ran too much after cheap glory 7 , he 
 summoned the leading citizens and gave them three months to find 
 a remedy. When none was forthcoming, he lowered the price of 
 grain by an edict, which had the surprising effect of driving it out 
 
 1 See Amm. Marc. xxi. 9, 4. Videre properans Antiochiam orientis apicem 
 pulcrum (here speaks the Antiochene)...Mi speciem alicujus numinis votis 
 excipitur publicis, miratus voces multitudinis magnae, salutare sidus illuxisse 
 eois partibus adclamantis. But was it a good omen that he should arrive 
 just when the women were wailing for Adonis ? Claudian on the Antiochenes, 
 In Rufin. ii. 34, adsuetumque charts et laeta plebe canorum...imbellem...0rontem. 
 
 2 Sozomen, v. 19. 
 
 3 Misopogon, 361 B. 
 
 4 Theodoret, iii. 10. 
 
 5 Eutropius (a heathen) says Julian was religionis Christianae nimius 
 insectator perinde tamen ut cruore abstineret (x. 16, 3). This is a considerable 
 admission for a writer who never elsewhere mentions Christianity, not even 
 in writing of Constantino. Whether by Julian's orders or not, blood seems to 
 have been shed none the less. 
 
 6 For this story see Misopogon, 368 c ; Amm. Marc. xxii. 14, 1 ; Socr. 
 iii. 17, 2; Soz. v. 19, 1. 
 
 7 Amm. Marc. xxii. 14, 1 popularitatis amore ; xxii. 7, 1 nimius captator 
 inanis gloriae.
 
 72 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 of the market. Then he fetched grain himself from the Imperial 
 granaries and sold it at his own price, and the dealers reappeared as 
 buyers. Altogether he effected nothing but the irritation of every 
 class, and jokes about making ropes of his beard were bandied round 
 the city 1 . He had made himself ridiculous at once with his corn 
 laws, his sacrifices, his mob of court philosophers (instead of 
 Constantius' court bishops), his homilies and his pietism. He was 
 not always very tactful 2 , he lacked ballast, and his virtues won 
 him as much ill-will as his foibles. With the best intentions, the 
 purest motives, and the highest character, he had made Antioch 
 thoroughly hostile, and, the world over, his reformation was producing 
 disorder and ill-will. He now wrote a " satire " on Antioch, which 
 he called The Beard-Hater (Misopogon), perhaps as undignified a 
 production as was ever penned by a monarch 3 . Under cover of 
 shewing up his own faults, he lets out all his spleen at the Antio- 
 chenes, till one is really sorry to see the man giving way to such 
 littleness. The final jest of Antioch was superb. Felix, an officer 
 of high rank, and Julian, the Emperor's uncle, had recently died, 
 and the populace went about shouting Felix Julianus Augustus 4 
 a double entendre, which must have been doubly exasperating for 
 being strictly loyal. Julian finally left the city, vowing he would 
 never see them again a vow which was grimly fulfilled and taking 
 a cruel revenge on his enemies by setting over them a governor well 
 known to be oppressive 5 . 
 
 Julian was now once more in the camp, where his earliest 
 successes had been won, and where he was less likely to be brought 
 into humiliating conflicts. He meant to end the long-standing 
 Persian quarrel which Constantius had left unsettled. That the 
 expedition had any close connexion with his pagan reformation, 
 
 1 Amm. Marc. xxii. 14, 2, gives some other jokes none very brilliant. 
 Julian, it seems, was a " monkey-face," with a goat's beard and the walk of 
 Otus and Ephialtes. 
 
 2 He confesses to being \a\lffrepos. Ep. 68. 
 
 3 Socrates, iii. 58, complains not unjustly TO d Siafftipeiv T) ffKwirTeii> OVK^TI 
 <j>i\off6<pov dXXo, fjLijv ovdt paffiXtus. Ammianus, an Antiochene, is not at all 
 pleased with this production of his hero. (xxii. 14, 2.) A keen, almost acrid, 
 humour ran in the family, Constantine being noted for his fi/juveia, etc. 
 (Socr. i. 9.) The best instance of Coustantine's humour is his retort to the 
 Novatian bishop that, if he was so exclusive, he had better take a ladder and 
 go to heaven by himself. 
 
 4 Amm. Marc, xxiii. 1, 4. 
 
 5 Ammianus (xxiii. 2, 3) actually says Julian remarked non ilium meruisse 
 sed Antiochensibus avaris et contumeliosis hujus modi judicem convenire. On 
 any other authority the story might seem doubtful. Libanius had a great 
 deal to do to keep this man's energies for paganism within moderately decent 
 bounds. See Sievers, Libanius, pp. 118 121.
 
 Julian 73 
 
 as has been suggested 1 , is, I think, not at all certain. His paganism 
 seems to have been a hindrance to him here, in shaking the loyalty 
 of the Christian Armenians' 2 . 
 
 Julian set out on a punitive expedition. One or two letters 
 written by the way survive one telling of a little address on 
 Hellenism he gave at Beroea to the city council, convincing, he 
 regretfully adds, but very few, and they were converted already 
 (Ep. 27). If the expedition was not very richly blessed with 
 triumphs for Hellenism, it was in other ways more of a success 3 . 
 The Persians were thoroughly cowed and their land laid waste, till 
 an unfortunate act of rashness altered the look of things. When he 
 had gone as far as he meant and was outside Ctesiphon, the capital, 
 Julian was induced to believe that the fleet of vessels which had 
 escorted him down the Euphrates was of no further use, and, to 
 avoid its falling into Persian hands, he gave the fatal order to burn 
 the ships, only to realize at once, but too late to save them, that it 
 was a blunder. Even so the retreat might have been free from 
 disaster but for an accident. The Persian cavalry harassed the 
 army on its march, and in one of the frequent skirmishes Julian 
 was fatally wounded. He was carried to his tent, and there he 
 died after some final words to the friends about him 4 . He surveyed 
 the principles that had guided him in life, care for his subjects' 
 good and trust in the wisdom of Providence. He had sought peace, 
 but when duty called to war he had gone to war, though he had 
 long well known he was "to die by iron." His life had been 
 innocent, his conscience was at rest, he had only thanks to the 
 eternal divinity for the manner of his departure. So he died, and 
 the Empire had immediate cause to regret his death in the shameful 
 surrender of Jovian to the Persians. For himself his early death 
 was probably a good thing, for had he returned victorious, he must 
 inevitably have been carried into a war without truce against 
 Christianity, and have stained his name with tyranny and perse- 
 cution. 
 
 As I have already quoted passages at length from his writings, a 
 word or two will suffice for them in conclusion. They reflect his 
 personality in a striking way. His style is very fairly good. The 
 
 1 Vollert, op. cit., p. 90. 
 
 2 See Gwatkin, Studies in Arianism, pp. 209, 210, on the Persian War 
 an interesting account of it. 
 
 3 Hodgkin, Italy and her Invaders, vol. ii. p. 538. 
 
 4 Amm. Marc. xxv. 3, 15.
 
 74 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 effect is marred, however, by a tendency to digression and after- 
 thought, and an unnecessary concern for side issues 1 . It was not 
 to be expected that he could help being didactic ; he had a mission, 
 and in season, and sometimes out of season, he is pleading and 
 exhorting. His three panegyrics, two on Constantius, the third on 
 Eusebia, roam off into discussions on education, true kingliuess, 
 books and so forth. His other five so-called orations are really 
 treatises. Two are theological, dealing with the Sun and the 
 Mother of the Gods, but far from clear. Of the other three, which 
 are concerned with morals, two deal with the Cynics and are a little 
 wearisome in their fault-finding. The eighth is addressed to himself 
 a series of reflections to console him for the loss of Sallust. 
 
 His letters fall into two classes, those of the elaborate polite type 
 consisting of a quotation, a compliment, and perhaps an invitation, 
 many of them addressed to philosophers, and those of a practical 
 character, some of them edicts, some letters on religious thought 
 and life, some friendly and intimate. Three long letters stand 
 apart, those to Themistius and the Athenians, and one which is 
 fragmentary, and these shew him at his best and most serious. 
 They give the clearest picture of his manliness, his purity and piety 
 of the intense earnestness and dutifulness of his nature. 
 
 His elaborate work against Christianity has been pieced together 
 by Neumann so far as possible from the citations of Cyril, who 
 wrote a book to refute it, as he found it did harm. Like the 
 Manichaeans he emphasized the readily assailable parts of the 
 Old Testament in what language did the serpent speak with 
 Eve ? If all the earth had been made into bricks, could the tower 
 of Babel have been a success ? Why did Jehovah, if the Universal 
 God, choose the Jews and neglect the Greeks? What is good in 
 Moses' law is common to all peoples. Jehovah's character as " a 
 jealous God" and "an angry God" is really unworthy. The effect 
 of the Christian books is not (like that of Greek literature) to make 
 men better it makes them no better than slaves. Old Testament 
 monotheism cannot be reconciled with the Christian account of 
 Christ. John first called Jesus God, when he found a mass of 
 converts in Greek and Italian cities worshipping the tombs of 
 Peter and Paul. Since then " many fresh corpses have been added 
 to the old one," and so forth. The difficulties he raised were after 
 
 1 Cyril (Neumann, p. 195) complains of his ir\a.Ti> 5ii}f r )l J -- TUV 
 a very fair criticism.
 
 Julian 75 
 
 all obvious, and were felt already. The Church however explained 
 many of them by the allegorical method, which it seems was legiti- 
 mate enough for Porphyry. This was no doubt an unscientific 
 and unsatisfactory treatment of Scripture, but it had this merit 
 that it enabled the Church to reach a deeper truth and one more 
 vital than the literal meaning gave ; to escape an obvious interpre- 
 tation involving an outgrown position ; and to gain for Scripture a 
 higher value in a spiritual significance, which, if it did not strictly 
 answer to the view of the original writers, at least corresponded 
 with Christian experience. Thus Julian's polemic was really beside 
 the mark. Though he says he knew Christianity, he really did not 
 know it, and the Christians were right in their allegation that he 
 did not understand. 
 
 Two other books remain, the Misopogon and The Caesars. Of 
 the former I have spoken. The latter is humorous with an 
 underlying seriousness. There is a banquet of the gods at which 
 the Caesars are in turn subjected to criticism, and a select few 
 are bidden set forth their ideals. While Julius and Constantine 
 might, perhaps, complain of their treatment (the latter particularly, 
 as self-indulgence does not seem to have been his aim 1 ), Marcus 
 Aurelius carries the day, for his theory of life was " the imitation of 
 the gods." The piece concludes with a burlesque view of Christian 
 baptism. Constantine rejected by the gods turns to Luxury, who 
 welcomes him, clothes him with fine robes and takes him to 
 Profligacy, and " there he found Jesus proclaiming to all, ' Whoever 
 is a seducer, whoever is a murderer, whoever is accurst and filthy, 
 let him come boldly ; for I will make him clean at once by washing 
 him in this water ; and if Jje again fall into the same state, I will 
 grant to him that, by beating his breast and smiting his head, he 
 may be cleansed'." So to Jesus Constantine goes, but the avenging 
 demons overtake him, while Julian is made the special child and 
 charge of Mithras the Sun-God. I need not, I think, repeat that 
 Julian did not understand Christianity. As for the rest, let me 
 quote M. Chassang : " The book of the Caesars is a work of great 
 
 1 Julian is always unfair to Constantine, cf. Or. vii. 227 c. Though 
 Constantino's conduct was not above reproach, his conscience on the question 
 of chastity was keener than might fairly have been expected, and he at least 
 contributed to the growth of that tradition of verecundia imperialis which 
 Ammianus records. See Gwatkin, Studies in Arianism, p. 106, for a wise and 
 sympathetic judgment on him ; also Seeck, TJntergang der Ant. Welt 2 , i. pp. 
 65 67. In short, Constantine displays, though with fluctuations, a gradual 
 development of high character from his accession to empire onwards through 
 life ; Julian on the other hand degenerated.
 
 76 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 originality. Yet is there not more pride than sureness, more caprice 
 than justice, in this general reprobation of his predecessors? And 
 when we reflect that Marcus Aurelius alone is excepted, are we 
 not led to suppose that Julian a fortiori excepts himself, and that, 
 in making those who went before him thus stand their trial, he 
 means to glorify himself at their expense 1 ?" 
 
 The general effect of Julian's life was to prove how dead a thing 
 heathenism was. His Hellenism was not the old religion, it was a 
 blend of various philosophies with some admixture of Christianity 
 and more of magic. It testified at once against Greek philosophy, 
 Greek religion and Greek morals. The philosophy led from nowhere 
 to nowhere and was a confusion of everything, with nothing in the long 
 run to rest a life on. The religion was worse, a vacuous and external 
 thing of ritual, trance and superstition. The morals were, in spite 
 of Neo-Platonism, essentially uninspired. To reinforce all, Julian 
 borrowed from the faith he hated borrowed partly consciously, as 
 when he conceived of the Catholic Church of Hellenism, but largely 
 unconsciously, and there, perhaps, he shews more conspicuously the 
 strength of the Church. Of all attempts made by Roman Emperors 
 to crush the Church, his was the best conceived he alone realizing 
 that to crush without offering an alternative was impossible, and 
 the alternative he did offer was the best then conceivable. He saw, 
 as others had not seen, that it would be easier and more satisfactory 
 to convince than to force men, and though events seemed trending 
 to the use of more force as time went on, the fact remains to his 
 credit that he at all events began by repudiating it. His life was a 
 failure, and for this his religion is to blame. He had not a strong 
 nature, and his religion nmde him weaker in the same measure as it 
 inflamed his conceit by teaching him to fancy himself a god. But 
 even this is of minor importance. He took the wrong way, and 
 turning back to a creed and a philosophy outworn he suffered the 
 fate of all who, from whatever cause, prefer a lower to a higher 
 truth. 
 
 1 Chassang, Hist, du Roman, p. 197.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 QUINTUS OF SMYRNA 
 
 My songs are now of the sunset ; 
 
 Their brows are touched with light, 
 But their feet are lost in the shadows 
 
 And wet with the dews of night. 
 
 HENLEY 
 
 NOT the least remarkable figure in the history of Greek literature 
 is Quintus of Smyrna. Not that he is in any great sense of the 
 word a poet ; not that he has any special gifts of insight and 
 interpretation, of narrative or style ; but that such a work as his 
 should be produced at such a time must ever remain a marvel. 
 The Iliad and the Odyssey belong to the dawn of Greek letters ; 
 the poem of Quintus was written to complete the story of the Iliad 
 and to connect it with the Odyssey, and it was written a thousand 
 years or more after them. The age of Homer, if the name may 
 be used with perhaps something of a collective sense, may be re- 
 constructed from his poems. The age of Quintus was removed from 
 it in every aspect of man's life that can be affected by progress. It 
 would be difficult to say whether in politics or in economics, in 
 social, intellectual or religious life, the gulf between the two poets is 
 widest. There had intervened thirty generations of mankind, who 
 had seen the rise and fall of the Empires of Athens, of Alexander, 
 and of the Ptolemies, the growth and decline of the Roman Republic, 
 the development of the Roman Empire from the veiled monarchy of 
 Augustus to the open sultanism of Diocletian ; and associated with 
 these political changes were the names of poets and philosophers, 
 who had summed and had interpreted in the literatures of Athens, 
 of Alexandria and of Rome the life and thought of the ages. From 
 the vivid anthropomorphism of Homer men had climbed to concep- 
 tions of loftier and purer deity, till the Zeus and Athena of the poet
 
 78 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 were names outworn, and if they still survived they served but to 
 cloak philosophical abstractions beyond the reach and outside the 
 needs of the men who first enjoyed the Homeric poems. Strange 
 and barbarous gods from Egypt and Persia had supplanted the gods 
 of Greece and Italy with those who were not philosophers. And 
 slowly Zeus and Athena had joined forces with Isis and Mithras, 
 enlisting philosopher and devotee, to do battle with another faith, 
 which had taught men to look death in the face and had risen by 
 being cut down to rule the world. The labarum ' with its cross and 
 monogram had proclaimed for half a century to Roman, Persian and 
 German that the world was Christian, when Quintus wrote his poem 
 to link the Iliad to the Odyssey. Constantinople had been for 
 almost as long the seat of the Roman government, when he gave 
 the world the rest of the story of Troy. And here is the marvel of 
 his work. There is scarcely a hint that the world has moved since 
 Homer sang. One allusion is made, and one only, to history, and 
 apart from this, which is introduced as a prophecy, there are but 
 two or three slight anachronisms which betray a society later than 
 Homer's. With the literature of the intervening ages, it has been 
 maintained with much show of reason that Quintus was unac- 
 quainted, but for his study of Hesiod and Apollonius Rhodius. 
 And it was Quintus' endeavour to let it appear that in thought 
 and faith he stood where Homer had stood, though here it was 
 harder to deceive posterity, and we shall find evidence against him 
 in the confusion of his ideas. Yet the illusion is wonderfully 
 successful, and so far as form and fashion are concerned, the work 
 of Quintus might at times pass for that of Homer himself. But, 
 however Homeric, Quintus is not Homer, and as we read we realize 
 the feeling of the Trojan hero, who sought his wife and found, not 
 herself, but 
 
 infelix simulacrum atque ipsius umbra Creusae. 
 
 Still there is an interest, though it may not be a keen one, in the 
 study of this pale Homer of the fourth century. 
 
 Cardinal Bessarion first discovered Quintus in the monastery 
 of St Nicholas near Otranto, and because this town, once called 
 Hydruntum, lay in the aneient Calabria, the poet long bore the 
 surname Calaber, a title as suitable, says his editor Tychsen, as 
 Sangallensis would be for Quintilian in view of the fact that he was 
 
 1 Prud. c. Symm. i. 487 Christus purpureum gemmanti textus in auro Signabat 
 labarum. The institution of this change is told by Lactantius, M. P. 44.
 
 Quintus of Smyrna 79 
 
 first found by Poggio at St Gall. The manuscript bore no name 
 but Quintus, and there has been much speculation to account for 
 it. One scholar maintained it was rather the name of the owner of 
 the manuscript than that of the author of the poem. Another would 
 have corrected Cointos to Corintos, in order to attribute the author- 
 ship to a grammarian Corinthos, who unfortunately proved to have 
 lived in the twelfth century A.D., when such work would have been 
 flatly impossible. Then who was Quintus ? Was he Aemilius 
 Macer, who according to Ovid filled in what Homer left out? or 
 was he Alcibiades ? or perhaps Quintus Ennius, the favourite of 
 Cicero 1 ? Strange as it may seem, no one has suggested Quintus 
 Cicero, a most energetic and productive poet, nor the greatest 
 Quintus of them all, who certainly tells us he thought of writing 
 in Greek and would have written but for the miraculous intervention 
 of Quirinus why not as well then as any, Quintus of Venusia? 
 Time has however settled the question, and a number of references 
 and quotations in later grammarians make it clear that his name 
 was Quintus and give no indication that he ever had another. And 
 as he takes pains to inform us himself, whether he means it or not, 
 that Smyrna was the home of his youth, he is by common agreement 
 styled Quintus of Smyrna. 
 
 It will readily be supposed that when his name is a matter of 
 discussion, many questions may be raised about the man himself, 
 the answers to which must be largely conjectural. As regards his 
 date all serious critics are very much at one, some putting it toward 
 the beginning of the fifth century, most however toward the end of 
 the fourth and roughly about the time of the Emperor Julian. The 
 evidence for this is almost entirely internal, and the conclusion rests 
 on the relations of his versification to that of Nonnus and his school, 
 on the confused character of his paganism and on one or two faint 
 references to the contemporary world. Arguments dealing with 
 style have necessarily a subjective element about them, and the 
 rather large mass of Epic poetry and other poetry in hexameters 
 produced under the late Roman Empire is little studied to-day. 
 Yet on the whole it seems agreed that Quintus is earlier than 
 Nonnus, and this is an aid towards fixing his date. He has one 
 clear reference to the Roman Empire, which might refer almost 
 equally well to any Imperial family from Julius to Julian. 
 
 The scene is that of the fall of Troy, and Aeneas, like a crafty 
 
 1 A new sense for Persius vi. 10 : cor jubet hoc Enni postquam destertuit esse 
 Maeonides Quintus.
 
 80 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 steersman taking to the boat when the ship is doomed, is leaving 
 Troy under his mother's guidance. He is remarked by the Greek 
 seer Calchas, who bids the Greeks to spare him, "for it is decreed 
 by the glorious counsel of the gods that from the Xanthus he shall 
 come to the Tiber's broad waters and build an holy city, famous 
 with posterity, and himself shall reign over mortals of many seeds, 
 and his race after him shall be kings to the rising and to the setting 
 of the tireless sun ; yea, and it is granted to him to be with the 
 immortals, because he is the son of Aphrodite of the glorious locks. 
 ...So spake Calchas and the Greeks obeyed and looked upon Aeneas 
 as a god, all of them ; and he gat him quickly from his city, whither 
 his feet bore him in his haste 1 ." This is not Virgil's story, nor 
 Homer's, and I am sure Quintus never learnt of Juppiter Indiges 
 from Livy, but he clearly implies a well-established Empire. 
 
 A simile from the arena, not unlike one of Claud ian's, has been 
 used to give a nearer date. The two sons of Atreus find themselves 
 surrounded, " and, hemmed in on every side, they turned this way 
 and that, even as boars or lions in the enclosure, on a day when 
 kings gather men together, and with cruel mind shut them in, 
 devising an evil destruction for them by great beasts, and they 
 within the ring tear in pieces the slaves, whosoever cometh near 
 them ; even so they in the midst did slaughter with a will 2 ." The 
 Greek word he uses (/Sao-iAev's) served for the Homeric King and was 
 the usual term for the Roman Emperor. It has been pointed 
 out that an end was put to the beast-fights about the beginning 
 of the fifth century, and though games were still held they were 
 not bloody after that day. 
 
 It may be complained that the evidence for his date is not very 
 strong, but on the whole it must be admitted when everything is 
 weighed that the margin of error is slight, and while recognizing 
 that absolute certainty is out of the question we may accept the 
 general verdict that puts Quintus in the age of Julian. 
 
 Sainte-Beuve, in his very interesting study of Quintus, to which 
 I shall have to refer more than once, remarks that the only 
 biography we can form of Quintus must deal with his ideas and 
 
 1 xiii. 336 343, 350 52. Homer hints at a royal destiny for Aeneas (II. xx. 
 302 308), but does not particularize. Quintus lacks Virgil's power, as be well 
 may, but even Dionysius of Halicarnassus (i. 46 47) is more spirited in his tale 
 of Aeneas holding first the citadel and then Ida, and making terms for an 
 honourable departure all this from Hellanicus he says. There was yet a fourth 
 story, that Aeneas was a traitor; and Servius says Virgil knew of it; so 
 Chassang, Histoire du Roman, p. 364. This last is followed by Gower, Confessio 
 Amantis, bk i. Hypocrisy. 2 vi. 531 7.
 
 Quintus of Smyrna 81 
 
 his character, and this part of the French critic's work is admirable. 
 The Posthomerica contains one solitary reference to the poet's life, 
 but for the rest his character and his mind reveal themselves clearly 
 in the course of the poem. His poverty precludes the possibility of 
 mistake. 
 
 He waits till, in his twelfth book, the Greek heroes are preparing 
 to enter the Wooden Horse, and then he invokes the aid of the 
 Muses in dealing with their names. A list rarely lends itself to 
 poetic treatment and perhaps his invocation was timely, though the 
 reader will regret that it was unavailing. At all events it gives us 
 our one piece of knowledge about Quintus. He says : " Tell me, 
 Muses, in response to my asking of them each and all, who went 
 down into the capacious Horse. For ye filled my soul with all song, 
 or ever the down was spread upon my cheeks, when I fed the 
 splendid sheep in the plains of Smyrna, thrice so far from Hermos 
 as a shout will carry, by the temple of Artemis, in the free garden, 
 on a hill not very low nor yet very high '. " Nothing could well be 
 plainer, and yet Lorenz Rhodoman in the sixteenth century turned 
 the shepherd into a professor and was sure the splendid sheep were 
 pupils. If such a theory needs attention at all, it may be said 
 Bernhardy pronounces that Quintus' grammar and constructions 
 stamp him as anything but a grammarian or teacher. Sainte-Beuve 
 reaches a higher plane of criticism, when he says of this passage 
 that " all is drawn with the precision of reminiscence inspired by 
 the heart ; every circumstance is given with love." The curious 
 details were to define the exact region, and one would need to know 
 the topography of Smyrna to pronounce upon them. I have, I 
 should say, no confidence at all in my rendering of 'EAeu0epiu> eVt 
 KIJTTW ; it is a point that requires local knowledge. 
 
 Why the poet introduced this personal touch, it is easy to see. 
 He had before him Hesiod's account of his inspiration by the Muses, 
 and it encouraged him to tell of his own. Hesiod says he will begin 
 his Theogony with the Muses "who taught Hesiod a beautiful song, 
 as he fed his lambs under divine Helicon," for they came to him and 
 gave him a staff and bade him sing of the race of the blessed who 
 live for ever, and of themselves first and last and always 2 . There is 
 the source of Quintus' courage, and while there may be something, 
 there is probably not very much, in the suggestion that he dwells on 
 his own Smyrnaean origin because Smyrna was one of the seven or 
 
 1 xii. 304311. 2 Theogony 2234. 
 
 G. 6
 
 82 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 more birthplaces of Homer. No doubt the city's claim to have 
 given Homer to the world moved him as it would not have moved 
 him to remember Polycarp, but to hint that he claimed to be from 
 Smyrna because he was a second Homer is extravagance. Let us 
 take him at his word, especially as everything tends to confirm the 
 literal interpretation of it. 
 
 It is when he speaks of his own country, of Lycia, Caria, Lydia, 
 Phrygia, the Hellespont and so forth, that this second Homer nods 
 least. He knew the ground and he loved it and dwelt with pleasure 
 on one and another striking scene. For example, Dresaios is a 
 person of no consequence, killed on his first appearance in the 
 story, but he was born near " snowy Sipylus, where the gods turned 
 Niobe to stone, and her tears still freely flow from the great crag on 
 high, and with her wail the streams of loud-roaring Hermus and the 
 long heights of Sipylus, on which ever hangs the mist, the shepherd's 
 foe ; and she, she is a great marvel to them that pass by, so like is 
 she to a woman of many sorrows, who mourns a bitter woe and 
 sheds a thousand tears ; and this thou wouldst say she was of a 
 truth, when thou sawest her from afar ; but when thou comest near 
 thereto, it is seen to be the craggy rock, a spur of Sipylus. But 
 she, fulfilling the baleful wrath of the gods, wails among the rocks, 
 like unto one in sore grief 1 ." His interest is clearly not in Dresaios 
 but in Niobe. Now compare the account given about 180 A.D. by 
 the traveller Pausanias, himself said to be a native of Lydia. " This 
 Niobe I myself saw when I went up Mount Sipylus. Close at hand 
 it is a rock, a precipice with no sort of resemblance to a woman, 
 weeping or otherwise ; but if you go further away, you will think 
 you see a woman downcast and in tears 2 ." 
 
 Again another unimportant warrior, killed at once, had pre- 
 viously " dwelt in sheep-bearing Phrygia, under the divine cave of 
 the fair-tressed Nymphs, where once as Endymion slept among 
 his kine the fair Moon saw him from on high and descended from 
 heaven ; for keen longing for the youth seized her, immortal virgin 
 as she was, and to this day is the token of her couch under the 
 oaks ; for all about it in the glade is the milk of the kine ; and 
 men see it there still. Looking from afar thou wouldst say it was 
 white milk, and white water sent it forth, but when it cometh near 
 it is dried up in its channels and is but rocky ground 3 ." It would 
 
 1 i. 294306. 
 
 2 Pausanias i. 21, 3: Sophocles, Antigone 823 832; Nonnus ii. 160. 
 
 3 x. 126 137. There is some doubt as to the integrity of the passage.
 
 Quintus of Smyrna 83 
 
 seem to have been some white marble or an incrustation of some 
 sort, but I have found no other allusion to it, though Pausanias and 
 Strabo speak of the shrine and tomb of Endymion being on Mount 
 Latmos, by the Maeander and just above Heraclea. 
 
 There are other similar references to scenery, but let us take the 
 voyage of Neoptolemus as a stepping-stone to something further. 
 " And the divine dawn came to the sky ; and to them appeared the 
 heights of the mountains of Ida, and Chrysa [an island to their left], 
 and the shrine of Smintheus, and the headland of Sigeum and the 
 tomb of the prudent son of Aeacus [Achilles], but the wise son of 
 Laertes shewed it not to Neoptolemus, lest his spirit in his breast 
 should be troubled. And they passed the Calydnaean islands, and 
 Tenedos was left behind, and they saw the place of Eleus 1 , where 
 is the tomb of Protesilaus overshadowed by tall elms, whose tops 
 wither away so soon as they have seen Ilion, as they shoot upward 
 from the plain. And the wind bore the boat as they rowed onward 
 nearer Troy, and they came where by the beach were other ships 
 of the Argives, who then were being sore bestead as they fought 
 about the wall they had builded aforetime to be a safeguard for 
 the ships 2 ." 
 
 This is a good passage, but it is hardly Homeric. When 
 Odysseus sails home from Scheria, he sleeps and is landed asleep. 
 No points of interest are remarked. But when Aeneas voyages 
 westward 3 , he cannot do so without Virgil remembering Odysseus' 
 description of his native islands to Alcinous (Od. ix. 21 24) : 
 
 Jam media apparet fluetu nemorosa Zacynthos 
 Dulichiumque Sameque, et Neritos ardua saxis. 
 effugimus scopulos Ithacae. 
 
 We have Homer's epithet (vA^eo-ora Za*w0os) ; and before very long 
 another and a different reminiscence follows : 
 
 Actiaque Iliads celebramus litora India*. 
 And then we remember Homer again : 
 
 Protinus oerias Phaeacum abscondimus arces. 
 
 Koechly marks a lacuna in the middle. I have here followed Zimmermann, 
 whose remedies for Koechly's lacunae are sometimes heroic, but often helpful. 
 See Pausanias v. 1, 5; and Strabo c. 636. 
 
 1 Eleus, on the Chersonnese, cf. Pliny, N. H. 4, 11 (18), 49; Pausanias i. 34, 
 2; Arrian i. 11, 5, who all mention Protesilaus. Herodotus ix. 116 has a story 
 about the stealing of Protesilaus' treasures by a Persian governor. For the 
 elms, see Pliny, N. H. 16, 44 (88), 238, and Wordsworth's Laodamia. 
 
 2 vii. 400416. 3 See the passage in Aen. iii. 270293. 
 
 4 Virgil, it seems, followed Varro in letting Aeneas visit Actiuin, but the 
 memories the name awakened were of an event after Varro's day. 
 
 62
 
 84 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Virgil, in fact, and Quintus would seem to have sailed through 
 scenes they had read of, and their books were in their minds, just 
 as the modern traveller sails up the St Lawrence and picks out with 
 Parkman's aid the positions held by Wolfe as they appear, the 
 heights of Levis, the Point of Orleans, the East cliffs of the 
 Montmorency, and then marks the citadel and the plains of 
 Abraham, and, as the steamer leaves the quays, watches anxiously 
 for Wolfe's cove, "the little bay with the tall chimney 1 ." 
 
 Quintus tells us he was or had been a shepherd, and in agree- 
 ment with this statement is the remarkable number of similes 
 drawn by him from country-life and from the calling of the 
 shepherd in particular. No doubt many of these are imitated from 
 Homer ; at all events I know of no evidence for the existence of 
 lions in Western Asia Minor in Quintus' day, and one in ten of his 
 similes boasts a lion. It may also be noticed how large a pro- 
 portion of the similes deal with mountain scenery, the sphere of a 
 shepherd's life. Bush-fires, landslips, storms in the hillside forests, 
 hunting episodes, rivers in flood, the melting of the snow in the 
 mountains, the swarming of bees, the flight of locusts, the migration 
 of cranes, and the frolicking of a calf in a garden, all supply him 
 with similes. And these have a warmth and a truth about them 
 and speak of observation rather than of other men's books An 
 example or two may serve. 
 
 As when amid rain the mist hangs upon the mountains, when 
 the brawling channels are filled with rushing water, and every 
 torrent roars aloud, and all the shepherds tremble at the floods and 
 at the mist, dear to the savage wolves and the other beasts, bred in 
 the depths of the forest 2 .... 
 
 As when starlings and jackdaws, on outspread wings, swarm upon 
 the olive-berries, for desire of the sweet food, nor can the lads for all 
 their shouting turn them to flight before they eat, for hunger stirs 
 their soul to shamelessness 3 . ... 
 
 1 Conington however, on Aen. iii. 76, and 275, seems to question the accuracy 
 of some of Virgil's island geography and quotes Clark (Peloponnesus, pp. 20, 21) 
 who doubts Virgil's "personal acquaintance" with the scenery Aeneas saw 
 before reaching Italy. In any case Virgil wrote in an age of tours and me- 
 mories more akin to Quintus' than Homer's. Lechevalier, whose Voyage en 
 Troade (1829) is referred to by Sainte-Beuve, confirms the truth of Quintus' 
 topography, praises him with enthusiasm, and wishes his work were really 
 Homer's own. The first part of this criticism is probably of more value than 
 the rest. 
 
 2 ii. 471. 
 
 3 viii. 387. A simile which recalls the most beautiful scene in the Daphnis 
 and Chloe of Longus (iii. 5, 6), quoted on p. 374.
 
 Quintus of Smyrna 85 
 
 As when, upon the shore of the deep-voiced sea, men take the 
 long ropes from the well-wrought pegs and scatter the long baulks 
 and timber of a towering raft, and all the broad beach is filled with 
 them and the black water splashes amidst them '. . . . 
 
 It may be said that there is not here perhaps the most perfect 
 finish in the language, yet there is at least the note of observation 
 and experience, which tells of country life. One point I have 
 noticed which is not, I think, to be observed in Homer. Quintus 
 has a curious habit of watching the horses in his battles. The 
 plunging of the horse in death, tangled with the chariot and 
 another horse on top of him, affects him as it does the soldier 
 in Kipling's ballad Snarleyow. One of the few really living touches 
 in his account of Troy's capture is his description of how " when the 
 houses fell, horses and dogs stampeded through the city in terror at 
 the cruel flames, and with their feet they trod down the dead, and 
 kept galloping about, a danger to the living." It is the same story 
 that Zola tells of the horses after the battle of Sedan, and it is 
 startling to find so vivid and unexpected an episode in Quintus. 
 
 On the other hand there is scarcely a trace in Quintus of the 
 magic that brings the unconscious environment into a real sympathy 
 with the mind of man. Musaeus, a somewhat later and greater 
 poet, in his epic-idyll of Hero and Leander, gives the last touch to 
 the description of the loneliness of Hero's tower with the words : 
 
 afi va VVK.TO. KOI ]> 
 TipfjLfi ovacriv 1 
 
 But this is perhaps modern after all. Tennyson, for example, in his 
 Death of Oenone, a tale avowedly taken from Quintus, puts a 
 different atmosphere into his scene by telling how the branches of 
 the vines that covered the mouth of Oenone's cavern 
 
 were wither'd long ago, 
 And thro' the sunless winter morning-mist 
 In silence wept upon the flowerless earth. 
 
 Such treatment is quite beyond Quintus. 
 
 Whether Quintus went to the school of rhetoric at Smyrna, 
 it is impossible, and indeed needless, to say. His education was 
 
 1 xi. 309. Allusions to "rafting" in classical literature are rare; but from 
 what I have seen of it on Lake Ontario his picture seems true. To-day for 
 ropes, saplings twisted by machinery are used; and "towering" (^X^aros) 
 would be rather a large word for the rafts I have been on, which rise not more 
 than a few feet above the water. See Torr, Ancient Ships, p. 122, though the 
 authors he quotes refer mainly to rafts as used in war.
 
 86 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Homer and little else, and though he has some few of the foibles of 
 the rhetorical school his taste was really moulded by Homer and 
 almost by Homer alone. After a careful study of his metre, which 
 is wonderfully Homeric and varies from Homer's in but a few 
 insignificant features, Koechly pronounces that Quintus wrote by 
 ear rather than by written rule, and this means a freedom, an ease, 
 and a naturalness quite foreign to the school and its artifices. The 
 difference may be perhaps most readily felt by reading a page of 
 Quintus and a page of Colluthus, who is a weaker member of the 
 family of Nonnus. 
 
 Homer dominated him, and it was not very strange that it 
 should be so. Witness is borne to Homer's power at this very time 
 by the writings of Julian, who was steeped in him, and by the 
 marvellous tour de force of Apollinaris of Laodicea, who, when 
 Julian forbade Homer to Christian teachers, made a new Homer out 
 of the Pentateuch. This work does not survive, and if it did the 
 student of the Posthomerica would hardly wish to read it. 
 
 The great work of Quintus was to bridge the gulf between the 
 Iliad and the Odyssey. This had perhaps been done long before by 
 the Cyclic poets, and the question has been raised as to how far 
 Quintus used them. Schow believed that his work was a mere 
 cento made from them, in which case one would be surprised to 
 remark that he never stole a line from Homer not a KCU TTOTC ns 
 
 tlirfjo-i ; not an avrap CTTCI TTOO-IOS ; perhaps not even a TOV 8' a.ira/j.fL- 
 
 /3o/ievos. As a matter of fact however, the right view of the case 
 has been put by Tychsen, who on reading and re-reading the book 
 found the same quality throughout which is fatal to the theory 
 that half of it was Arctinus and half Lesches. Koechly also shews 
 that in a large number of cases Quintus did not follow the versions 
 given by the Cyclici of famous episodes, that he owed far more to 
 the handbooks of mythology, and finally that in all likelihood he 
 never so much as saw the Cyclici. To this one may add that, while 
 the manner of writing is the same, there is a great change at book 
 xii., where the fighting stops, and the Wooden Horse is built. Here 
 and in the story of the capture of Troy and the departure of the 
 Greeks, there was no Homer for him to follow, and one realizes 
 then how very dependent on the Iliad he has been throughout. A 
 fight between Eurypylus and Neoptolemus can be modelled quite 
 well on one in Homer, but when Homer will no longer serve and the 
 poet is left to his own devices, he flounders terribly and has to fall 
 back on a storm at sea to finish his book. His task in the actual
 
 Quintus of Smyrna 87 
 
 taking of Troy was a hard one. Virgil's was easier, for he had to 
 tell the story of one man's part in it. Napoleon found even Virgil's 
 account deficient from a military point of view, but it has a unity 
 and a completeness as the tale of Aeneas' experience. Quintus 
 gives us nothing but a string of second-hand horrors, without 
 movement or connexion, neither Greek nor Trojan having any plan 
 of action. 
 
 Of course he has a few anachronisms, but he falls far short of 
 Virgil in this. His heroes ride on horseback; they torture Sinon 
 to get the truth out of him J ; and Odysseus suggests and tries the 
 formation known as the testudo. More noticeable are series of 
 portents which he intermittently gives. Omen and portent are rare 
 if they occur at all in the Iliad, and though they are found in the 
 Odyssey they are not so awful as in Quintus, who piles them up after 
 the manner of Lucan, some of them curiously like thosfe familiar to 
 the reader of Livy. We may also remark a difference from Homer 
 in the gentler character of the warriors when not engaged in actual 
 fighting, who "have respect unto the slain," "for there is no wrath 
 against the dead, for they are to be pitied and are foemen no longer 
 when once their life is gone 2 ." The most remarkable example of 
 this new feeling is the sudden love of Achilles for the maiden- 
 warrior Penthesilea, whom he has just slain. The episode is hardly 
 Homeric, but it has justly won the warm praise of Sainte-Beuve. 
 
 This last feature appears in the story of Ajax and the arms of 
 Achilles, to which we may give some further consideration There 
 is an allusion to the quarrel of Ajax and Odysseus in the Odyssey, 
 but no hint that Ajax thought of murdering the Greek captains. 
 The arms were awarded on the decision of the Trojan captives 
 and Athena 3 . Pindar lets the Greek chiefs decide "by secret 
 votes." Sophocles, in taking the theme for a tragedy, was bound 
 to adopt a less simple version of the story, which would allow 
 more variety of character and motive, but was in consequence less 
 epic in its movement. Quintus however was writing an epic, and 
 realized that Sophocles' rendering was not for him, and his work has 
 a simplicity, and his characters a nobility, in striking contrast with 
 the play. 
 
 1 Even the gentle Synesius countenanced this method of examination. Ep. 
 44, 1373 A. 
 
 2 ix. 38; i. 809. Compare Virgil, Aen. xi. 304. We must not however forget 
 Od. xxii. 412 oi>x oaitj Kra^voiffiv tir' &v8pcuTii> tvxera,a.ffOai.. 
 
 3 Od. xi. 547. Aristarchus however rejects the line, but W. Christ and others 
 maintain that it is the oldest form of the story. Probably Quintus had no 
 doubts.
 
 88 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 When the arms were first set out by Thetis and claimed by the 
 two heroes, Nestor, with some pertinent remarks on the wisdom of 
 age, suggested that the decision should rest with some Trojan 
 captives, and Agamemnon accepted the proposal. Then the two 
 heroes rose and pled. Here Quintus was going outside Homer, but, 
 as their pleadings had long been themes for declamation in the 
 schools, he had little to do but to go along the lines laid down. There 
 are in fact close resemblances between the speeches in Quintus and 
 in Ovid's Metamorphoses, but Ovid is three times as long as Quintus. 
 More than that, Ovid, as might have been expected, puts into the 
 mouths of the Homeric warriors speeches too full of quirks and 
 conceits for the Roman bar. There is no difference between Ajax 
 and Odysseus ; both make neat little points and both are practised 
 rhetoricians, veised in every artifice and prettiness The warriors 
 in Quintus are true to Homer Quintus never has the strength of 
 Homer, but he has at least the manner, and the speeches are not 
 the terrible anachronisms of Ovid. Each says his say and 
 emphasizes his own good points, and each makes a short rejoinder 
 in conclusion, and the arms are given to Odysseus. 
 
 But here Quintus broke down and described how the madness 
 came on Ajax, giving a list of symptoms', which betrays that he too 
 had studied rhetoric, and had forgotten the wisdom of Hesiod that 
 the half is more than the whole. In this state Ajax was led away. 
 Then, fearing he would do mischief, Athena allowed the madness to 
 fall heavily upon him, and with a series of similes Quintus lets us 
 see him kill the sheep. Raging like a storm at sea, or a wild beast 
 robbed of her whelps, or a bush-fire, or Orion, or a lion falling upon 
 sheep, Ajax, his heart seething like a cauldron, threw himself upon 
 the sheep and scattered them as the North wind scatters the leaves. 
 Then he regained his senses, made a short soliloquy, debating on 
 the courses open to him and cursing the Greek chiefs, and plunged 
 Hector's sword into his neck. His speech shews, I think, points of 
 contact with the two speeches of Sophocles, but this is implicitly 
 denied by good critics. 
 
 The most marked divergence from the tragedy follows. The 
 play dealt, according to Professor Jebb, with the death and burial 
 of Ajax, the latter being as important as the former. But there is 
 
 1 A similar deluge of pathology overtakes us, when Quintus tells of Laoeoon, 
 who was not, though his sons were, devoured by the snakes, but suffered blind- 
 ness. Many and grievous were his symptoms, ical tdpaice Snr\6a Travra. (xii. 
 411).
 
 Quintus of Smyrna 89 
 
 no such question in Quintus. Tecmessa mourns her widowhood 
 and looks forward to slavery, but Agamemnon reassures her, 
 promising that, on the contrary, the Greeks will honour her as if 
 she were a goddess, as if Ajax yet lived ; while Odysseus, if a little 
 prosy, expresses his regret at what has occurred and wishes he 
 could have foreseen it, for then he would himself have given the 
 arms to Ajax (For this Quintus seems indebted to the Odyssey, 
 where Odysseus makes the remark to Alcinous.) Ajax is then 
 buried with all pomp, "for they honoured him as much as 
 Achilles," and the burning of his body was as the burning of 
 Herakles. 
 
 It cannot be said that Quintus generally reaches the measure of 
 success he attained in the episode of Ajax He had before him a 
 large mass of traditions, many inconsistent with one another. It 
 was difficult to deal with them without modifications, but though 
 Quintus might select, he did not dare to modify. The story of 
 Ajax permitted a reasonable treatment, but that of Philoctetes 
 was harder. No valid explanation is given of the desertion of the 
 suffering hero. He was healed too easily "swifter than thought" 
 by Podalirius on his arrival at the camp, and, though it is ex- 
 plained that Athena aided in this marvellous recovery, it seems odd 
 still that some attempt had not been made at first. Nor is it very 
 clear why he should have consented to come to Troy. The ex- 
 planation of his abandonment, given on the island by Odysseus, is 
 that no one was responsible for it but Fate, and so says Agamemnon 
 later on. Men are driven by Fate as leaves by the winds, so a wise 
 man must endure what comes his way. To this Philoctetes merely 
 says briefly that he understands all this and suggests going to bed 
 if they mean to fight next day. I do not think Quintus intended 
 any humour here, but it would help the situation. Assuming then 
 that for some inscrutable reason Philoctetes allows that no one is 
 responsible for the wrong done him, and that he is willing to come 
 to Troy, it cannot be seen in Quintus that he effects anything of 
 the slightest consequence. The slaying of Paris cannot be con- 
 sidered a heavy loss to the Trojans, though he is a respectable 
 warrior in the Posthomerica. Yet we were told how, before his 
 coming, battle raged, " till, bidden by Calchas, the Greeks withdrew 
 to their ships, and forgot their toils, for it was not fated that Ilion 
 should be conquered before the mighty Philoctetes, skilled in 
 tearful war, came to the throng of the Greeks 1 ." The idea of some 
 
 1 ix. 325329.
 
 90 Ldfe and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 kind of moral satisfaction being the cause is precluded by the 
 Greeks' conviction that they were guiltless of any sin against him. 
 
 Again, there is a strange passage in book x. Hera is greatly 
 cheered by the death of Paris, and the four Seasons tell her of the 
 future course of the war, outlining with some precision events, 
 which may have occurred but which are entirely omitted by Quintus in 
 the remainder of his narrative. The capture of the Palladium is to 
 be the turning point of the war, and no allusion is made to it. It 
 has been suggested that the poem wanted the poet's final revision 1 , 
 but the last three books, as I have said, are beyond revision. To 
 be mended they must have been re-written. In view of this it is 
 going too far tb suggest that Quintus wanted time. What he 
 needed was something very different. 
 
 Yet Quintus was not without some of the gifts of the poet. He 
 had the instinct to keep to the Homeric simplicity and to avoid 
 the rhetoricians et dona ferentes*. Though, as we have seen, he 
 owes them a little here and there, he is not a rhetorical poet. His 
 verse is singularly Homeric in tone, though in no servile way. He 
 abjures Homeric " tags," as he does the dainty but monotonous 
 rhythm of Nonnus, which is more suited to the idyll than to the 
 epic. There is a good deal of variety and freedom in his rhythm, 
 and its excellence is remarked by all the critics. Here perhaps he 
 is at his strongest. 
 
 He suffers from length, from copia rather than in&pia to quote 
 Tychsen. Pauw goes even further and declares that a third of 
 him might have been removed with advantage, and perhaps he is 
 right, but we must take the poet's work as he left it, redundant 
 and iterative as it is. He has to express a Homeric idea, and 
 Homer has done it in the directest way, so Quintus has to try 
 another with the result that he is longer and less effective. For 
 example, when Patroclus' body is burnt, Achilles says " let us 
 gather up the bones of Patroclus, Menoetius' son, singling theni 
 well, and easy are they to discern, for he lay in the middle of the 
 pyre, while the rest apart at the edge burnt confusedly, horses and 
 men 3 ." When Quintus describes the same being done for Achilles, 
 
 1 Tychsen, p. li ; Eohde (der gr. Roman, p. 110, n. 5) believes this little 
 batch of prophecies to have been carelessly copied from the Hellenistic poet 
 whom he supposes Quintus followed in the story of Oenoue. 
 
 2 What the rhetoricians had made of the actual story of Troy may be read in 
 Chassang, Histoire du Roman, part iii. c. 5, on Philostratus' Heroicus, Dares 
 and Dictys. 
 
 3 II. xxiii. 239242.
 
 Quintus of Smyrna 91 
 
 he says, " And his bones were clear to behold, for they were not 
 like unto the others, but as it were the bones of a mighty giant, nor 
 indeed were others mixed with them, since the kine and the horses 
 and the sons of the Trojans, confusedly with other slain also, lay a 
 little apart round about the corse, and he in the midst, overcome by 
 the breath of Hephaestus, lay alone 1 ." He has tried to say a little 
 more than Homer but has achieved less. 
 
 He is chiefly praised for his similes, to which I have alluded, 
 but here again he suffers from excess. When Homer adds simile 
 to simile, each illustrates some new point, but it cannot be said that 
 Quintus' comparisons always effect their purpose. Too often they 
 block the narrative. We have seen how they tumble over one another 
 when he describes the madness of Ajax. Yet it is in his similes 
 that he is after all most successful, which implies unhappily that his 
 general work is not successful. It is one of the marks of the 
 rhetorical school, that it endeavours to storm the reader's admira- 
 tion by a rapid series of brilliant attacks, blow upon blow, and 
 sometimes it succeeds as in the case of Lucan, and perhaps of 
 Claudian, though his case is rather different. Quintus, either from 
 judgment or want of strength, avoids the manners of the school, 
 antithesis, mythology, obscurity and other Alexandrine arts, but he 
 is not strong enough or wise enough to resist the temptation to 
 carry the reader by a brilliant use of simile. It is a half measure, a 
 compromise between the rhetorician and the poet, and it fails. Still 
 we must admit that if his similes, as too often his epithets, are not 
 always wholly appropriate, they are at least very often happy in the 
 sympathy they shew with wild nature and country life. Some of 
 them, to quote Sainte-Beuve, are "refreshing, exact and un- 
 common." 
 
 But more than rhythm and taste and the power to describe ex- 
 ternal scenes is required of a poet, and it may be asked if Quintus has 
 the higher gifts. It may seem from what I have already said that I 
 have already given judgment. But first let us take the judgments 
 of scholars and critics. Tychsen found passages in the Postho- 
 merica "worthy of a great poet," while the faults were in some 
 measure due to a " great and fertile nature." Koechly brushes aside 
 such estimates as "the fond imaginations of lovers and not the 
 judgments of critics," pronouncing Quintus to be without any really 
 poetic faculty, his characters devoid of flesh and blood and his
 
 92 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 poem of unity. Bernhardy is still more savage and declares that 
 Quintus " registers his material without the slightest psychological 
 consideration." On the whole the scholars are against Quintus. 
 
 Turning to another school, we find Sainte-Beuve has a remark- 
 ably high opinion of Quintus, whom he finds simple and easy in 
 style, possessed of affection and sensibility, able to describe striking 
 scenes with exactness and truth, and, in short, well worthy of study. 
 Of the story of the death of Paris he writes, " Ceci est de la 
 grande et vraie passion, de la pure et sincere nature; je donne 
 entier tout ce morceau, admirable selon moi et le plus beau du livre 
 de Quintus. ...II me semble qu'il ne se peut rencontrer dans un rdcit 
 dpique, de scene plus profonde'ment naturelle et plus moralement 
 einouvante. . . . II avait certes un grand talent, celui qui h une e'poque 
 de decadence savait ainsi choisir, dlaguer les circonstances frivoles 
 et vaines, et rendre ou conserver a ses re'cits un cachet de re'alite' 
 qui les fait paraitre inte'ressants encore aujourd'hui et si e'mouvants 
 par endroits." 
 
 And yet Sainte-Beuve had read Koechly's introduction to the 
 poet 1 . Whether Tennyson referred to any of these editors and 
 critics or formed his views on independent study alone, his judg- 
 ment is as clear and, I think, as true here as in the cases of Virgil 
 and Catullus. In his dedication of The Death of Oenone he bids the 
 Master of Balliol lay down his Plato for one minute, 
 
 And read a 'Grecian tale re-told, 
 Which, cast in later Grecian mould, 
 
 Quiutus Calaber 
 Somewhat lazily handled of old. 
 
 Has Quintus indeed that realization of life, that feeling for 
 humanity, which Virgil sums up in such lines as 
 
 Sunt lacrimae rerum, et mentem mortalia tanguntl 
 
 Do his men and women suffer real anguish, feel a real smart, or 
 know " infinite passion and the pain of finite hearts that yearn " as 
 Virgil's do ? Sainte-Beuve admits he is not a Virgil. Few episodes 
 in the Aeneid are so terribly true as the story of Mezentius and 
 Lausus. Quintus has a somewhat similar opportunity in the story 
 of Nestor and Antilochus. But he does little more than remark 
 that " no more cruel sorrow comes on mortal men than when sons 
 
 1 Mr Andrew Lang (Contemporary Review, Aug. 1882) says "The Argonautica 
 of Apollonius Ehodius seems to me a much less moving poem, much less 
 Homeric in spirit, than the Posthomerica."
 
 Quintus of Smyrna 93 
 
 are slain before a parent's eyes." (Virgil omitted to say this.) He 
 continues ; Nestor was grieved in his heart and called to his other 
 son, "Rise Thrasymedes, glorious of renown, that we may drive the 
 slayer of thy brother and my son away from the poor corse, or 
 ourselves upon him complete the tearful sorrow. But if there is 
 fear in thy breast, thou art not my son nor of the stock of Pericly- 
 menos, who dared to stand even against Herakles. But come let us 
 toil, for necessity ofttimes gives great strength to men doing battle, 
 though they be of little worth." Memnon warns him to go away 
 and he goes, remarking that he had once been a better man, but 
 now retired like an old lion before a sheep-dog. At the beginning 
 of the next book the Greeks wail for Antilochus, " but Nestor was 
 not greatly overcome in mind, for it is the part of a wise man to 
 bear a grief bravely, and not abjectly to give way to grief." So, very 
 soon (a day or two later) we find him chanting a hymn in honour of 
 Thetis and Achilles, when the sea-nymph was giving the funeral 
 games for her son. Of course we may remember Virgil's at pius 
 Aeneas after the last scene with Dido, but there is a difference. 
 
 Quintus delivers himself of two reflexions in this story and they 
 may serve to shew his manner. Where Homer and Virgil draw a 
 man and let us see him suffering, doing battle, working, and leave us 
 to feel with him, Quintus explains his feelings. It may be an 
 affectation, an attempt to reproduce the epic simplicity, but it is a 
 false simplicity simplesse. Homer could hardly have shewn us 
 Andromache a widow and explained that " great grief springs up for 
 honourable women when a husband dies 1 ." Priam asks the young 
 Neoptolemus to kill him that he may die and forget his sorrows, and 
 he replies, " Old man, ready and willing am I whom thou biddest. 
 For I will not leave thee, being a foeman, among the living; 
 for there is nothing dearer to men than life 2 ." When the Trojans 
 fall into a drunken slumber after their feast of triumph, we are 
 informed that darkness covered their sight, " for the eyes and mind 
 of young men are darkened by strong drink, when it cometh into 
 their heart in plenty 3 ." 
 
 Perhaps his best episode is that of Deidamia. It is quiet and, 
 it may be, a little obvious, a theme, therefore, well suited to the 
 gentle mind of the poet. A mother's emotions, when her son goes to 
 battle, are intense but not complicated. Hence Quintus can treat 
 them with truth and feeling. In one or two points his treatment 
 
 i i. 116. a xiii. 23840. 3 xiii. 11.
 
 94 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 recalls Claudian's picture of the sorrow of Ceres for the lost 
 Proserpine. Once before Quintus makes a touching reference to 
 such a theme, when he tells how Thetis " bethought her of her own 
 son, as she looked on Ajax ; and sorrow fell upon her soul 1 ." 
 
 Odysseus and Diomedes went to Scyros to fetch Neoptolemus, 
 and that night "sweet sleep came not to Deidamia as she remembered 
 the name of the wily Odysseus and of the godlike Diomedes, the 
 twain who widowed her of war-loving Achilles, prevailing upon his 
 brave soul that he should come to the war; and the Fate that 
 turneth not away met him and cut off his return and brought 
 infinite sorrow to his father Peleus and to her, Deidamia. Therefore 
 fear unspeakable held her heart lest, if her son went to the war, 
 sorrow should be added to bitter sorrow." She asks her son, " Why 
 is thy stout heart set on going with the strangers to tearful Ilion 
 ("!\LOV es Tro\v8a.Kpv), where many fall in the cruel fight, though 
 they know war and battle ? And now thou art young and knowest 
 not yet the works of war, that ward off from men the evil day. 
 But hearken thou unto me and abide in thy home, lest an ill report 
 come to me from Troy that thou art fallen in the battle." 
 
 Neoptolemus however was a fatalist and would go. " And he 
 with a bright smile was eager to hasten to the ship. But his 
 mother's tearful whispers (Sa/cpvdeis oaptoyxo's) stayed him yet in the 
 hall... and she, grieved to her heart, was yet proud of her son." 
 When he had gone, she lamented like a bird over an empty nest, 
 " and now she threw herself on her son's bed and wept aloud, and 
 now by the posts of the door ; and she put in her bosom any toy 
 that there was in the house, wherewith when a tiny child he had 
 delighted his tender heart. And for his sake, if perchance she saw 
 some javelin left behind, oft and again she kissed it, and aught of 
 her son's that she saw through her tears. But he heard no more 
 the ceaseless weeping of his mother, but went unto the swift ship 2 ." 
 
 The story of Oenone's death is well known. Paris was at last 
 wounded by a poisoned arrow of Philoctetes, and knew none could 
 cure him but Oenone. She would not and he died. Too late she 
 repented and threw herself on his funeral pyre. Erwin Rohde 3 , who 
 speaks of the narrative as one of real feeling which stands out " in 
 the wilderness of Quintus," believes the tale to be of Alexandrine 
 origin. Quintus' treatment displays once more an epic simplicity. 
 
 1 iv. 498. 
 
 2 vii. 240345. 
 
 3 Der griechische Roman, p. 110, n. 5, and generally pp. 109 112.
 
 Quintus of Smyrna 95 
 
 He omits the additional feature used by William Morris in The 
 Earthly Paradise, and does not tell how Oenone brought Paris 
 back to life and how, when with returning consciousness his first 
 word was " Helen," she let him die. 
 
 Paris, says Quintus, went to Oenone " against his will, but dire 
 necessity led him to his wife's face " while birds of ill omen hung 
 and screamed around him. "And thus he spake with his faint 
 strength : lady wife, hate me not in mine anguish, that of old 
 I left thee a widow in thy house, not of mine own will, but the 
 Fates that none may escape led me to Helen, and would that before 
 I had known her bed I had died in thy embrace ! But come ! by 
 the gods who dwell in heaven, and by thy bed and our wedlock, 
 have a gentle heart, and - stay my cruel pain, putting upon the 
 deadly wound drugs that shall avail, that are fated to drive grief 
 from the heart, if thou wilt. For it rests with thee to save 
 me from grim death or not ; but take pity quickly and stay the 
 strength of the swift-slaying arrows, while still my force and my 
 limbs abide ; nor remembering baleful jealousy leave me to die 
 unpitied at thy feet. It were a deed displeasing to the Litai 
 (Prayers) who are the daughters of thundering Zeus and in anger at 
 such as are overweening stir up against them the dread Fury and 
 wrath ; but do thou, lady, ward off the Fates and quickly, even if 
 I have sinned at all in folly." 
 
 There are wasted words in this, otiose epithets and draggling 
 clauses, but that is not all. There is a suggestion of the sensualist, 
 selfish and peevish, who has hardly a word of regret, hardly a 
 thought of his baseness, and is in more hurry to be healed than to 
 offer any amends for his treachery. If this were, as may be said, 
 Paris' true character, why allude so terribly directly to Helen? 
 Tennyson has borrowed a good deal from Quintus here, but the 
 speech as a whole is very different. 
 
 ' Oenone, my Oenone, while we dwelt 
 Together in this valley happy then 
 Too happy had I died within thine arms, 
 Before the feud of Gods had marr'd our peace, 
 And sunder'd each from each. I am dying now 
 Pierced by a poison'd dart. Save me. Thou knowest, 
 Taught by some God, whatever herb or balm 
 May clear the blood from poison, and thy fame 
 v Is blown thro' all the Troad, and to thee 
 The shepherd brings his adder-bitten lamb, 
 The wounded warrior climbs from Troy to thee.
 
 96 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 My life and death are in thy hand. The Gods 
 Avenge on stony hearts a fruitless prayer 
 For pity. Let me owe my life to thee. 
 I wrought thee bitter wrong, but thou forgive, 
 Forget it. Man is but the slave of Fate. 
 Oenone, by thy love which once was mine, 
 Help, heal me. I am poison'd to the heart.' 
 'And I to mine' she said 'Adulterer, 
 Go back to thine adulteress and die ! ' 
 
 So writes Tennyson, and every line is a criticism. Of course it 
 was not to be expected that Quintus should look at the story in the 
 same way. Some of his plain-spokenness is an endeavour after epic 
 simplicity and directness, yet it may be doubted if Homer would 
 have told the same tale as his imitator. 
 
 Oenone's reply is long (20 lines) and sarcastic, but on a sudden 
 another strain appears. " "Would that I had at my heart the great 
 strength of a wild beast, to rend thy flesh and then to lap thy 
 blood, for the woes thou hast given me in thy wickedness." She 
 bids him go "a curse, a grievous curse to gods and men; for 
 because of thee, wretch, mourning has befallen the immortals too, 
 some for sons and some for grandsons slain. But go from my house 
 and betake thee to Helen, by whose bed it befits thee to whimper 
 night and day in dudgeon, pierced with bitter grief, till she heal 
 thee of thy sore pains." Hecuba breaks out in a similarly savage 
 strain in the Iliad, and Zeus taunts Hera with a readiness to eat 
 Priam raw and Priam's sons, but after all Paris was a suppliant and 
 in distress, and the coarse vein in Oenone, though not alien from 
 the Greek character, gives an unpleasant impression. The reference 
 to the gods, who lost some their sons and some their grandsons, may 
 be primitive in its exactness, but hardly seems probable. 
 
 As in the case of Philoctetes' abandonment, no guilt seems to 
 attach to those who have done the cruel deed. They are merely 
 automata in the hands of Fate, a point to be remembered in view 
 of what follows. 
 
 For if there is one thing Quintus takes pains to assert, it is the 
 supremacy of Fate. Of course he has the Homeric gods, but they 
 are dull and bloodless, ornaments more than agents. The con- 
 ception of Fate however appears in three forms ; there are the 
 Keres, there is Aisa, and there is Moira. The first chiefly appear 
 with death Odvarov KO.L Krjpa //.e'Aeuvav. Yet the functions of them 
 all overlap and nice distinctions are hardly to be drawn ; but Aisa 
 and Moira have perhaps a wider range of activity.
 
 Quintus of Smyrna 97 
 
 The Keres hang about the doomed man, pitiless, robbing him of 
 his senses, deceiving him and exulting in his doom. The gods 
 cannot check them, and though Quintus follows Homer in the 
 occasional use of a phrase virlp xr/pas where people narrowly make 
 lucky escapes, yet the Keres are normally and properly inevitable 
 
 Aisa and Moira similarly dog the doomed, deceive him and 
 cannot be escaped, but Quintus has a little more to say of them. 
 Of Aisa, Calliope says to Thetis " Dost thou not know that about 
 all men upon earth, about them all, the baleful Aisa, the invincible, 
 hangs, recking not even of the gods, such strength has she alone ? 
 And she shall sack Priam's rich city, slaying of Trojans and of 
 Greeks whomsoever she will, and there is no god that shall stay 
 her 1 ." When in battle a Trojan prayer rose for deliverance, "the 
 gods heeded not at all, for other was the mind of Aisa, giver of 
 mourning ; and she regarded not mighty Zeus, nor any of the other 
 immortals ; for her dire mind is not to be changed, whatsoever be 
 the lot she spin with inevitable thread for men at their birth, for 
 men and for cities ; but under her, this will fall and that rise*." 
 Again, "not even Zeus himself can easily put aside Aisa beyond 
 what is fated, Zeus who excels all the immortals in power, and of 
 Zeus are all things 3 ." Aisa made Ajax to sin and before her men 
 are like leaves before the wind 4 . 
 
 Moira sometimes appears in the plural. The Moirai are 
 daughters of holy Chaos (tcpov Xaos iii. 756) and Zeus yields to 
 them. They control the varying destinies of men. The most 
 curious passage is where Nestor is comforting Podalirius for the 
 death of his brother. First he tries one line the fatalist's. 
 
 " On high, good things and bad lie on the knees of the gods, a 
 myriad all mingled; and of the immortals none seeth them, for 
 they may not be foreseen and are covered in thick darkness. And 
 on them Moira alone layeth her hands, and without looking she 
 flingeth them from Olympus to earth; and they fly hither and 
 thither as on the breath of the wind. And often great sorrow 
 overwhelms a good man, and to a bad cometh wealth unmerited. 
 Man's life is blind, therefore he walketh not in safety but stumbleth 
 oft with his feet, and his changing steps turn now to sorrow and 
 
 1 iii. 649 654. The gods themselves might not care to stay her, if we may 
 trust Thetis (xii. 206) "It befits not, when Zeus is angry, that for men, mere 
 men ([uvwdadluv), the eternal ones should fight." 
 
 2 xi. 2717. 3 xiv. 98100. 4 v. 594 and ix. 502. 
 
 G. 7
 
 98 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 now to good ; and none among mortals was ever wholly happy." 
 The moral is endurance, but a world governed by pure chance has 
 small consolation for the bereaved, and as Podalirius will not so be 
 comforted, Nestor drops fatalism and tries another approach before 
 he ceases to speak. So in one speech we have two distinct theories 
 of the universe not to say three. 
 
 " Hope ever for the better ; for there is a saying (<cms) among 
 men that the good go to heaven that fadeth not, but the bad man 
 to hateful darkness. And thy brother was both kind to mortals 
 and the son of a god, and I think that he will ascend to the race 
 of the gods by the bidding of his sire 1 ." 
 
 " II ne faut pas trop presser la the'ologie du vieillard de Pylos," 
 says Sainte-Beuve, who justly describes the general philosophy of 
 Quintus as "the paganism of the second or third period." It 
 blends certain elements of fatalism, a hint of a Neo-Platonic 
 heaven, and a preference for the salvation of the well-born which 
 is neither one thing nor the other, but is perhaps a good deal 
 nearer Homer than either. 
 
 The other world offers great uncertainties to Quintus, for which 
 he may be forgiven 2 . We have seen Nestor's views, and there are 
 other cases, which add to the confusion. Memnou after his death 
 is, we learn, "in the house of Hades, or else with the blessed on the 
 Elysian plain 3 ." Paris is uncertain about Hector's lot, but proposes 
 a course of action to please him "if indeed there be for men in 
 Hades either mind or law 4 ." When Achilles dies, Poseidon 
 tells his mother of his future shrine at Leuce and his glory as 
 Pontarches, Lord of the Euxine, a position he actually held till 
 displaced by St Phocas of Sinope after Quintus' day 5 . Agamemnon 
 speaks of him as with the immortals, and when he appears to his 
 son in a vision he says the same. Homer had him a ghost with 
 other ghosts below, and ignorant alike of the story of his own 
 burial and of his son's prowess. The bitter cry of Achilles to 
 Odysseus in the Nekyia, is famous " Rather would I live on ground 
 
 1 vii. 70 92. This happy destination of the "good" is the theme of 
 Macrobius' long Commentary on Scipio's Dream. So Hermes Trismegistus 
 (Ed. Bipont. Apuleius ii. p. 312), but he, like Claudian, says nothing of rank 
 counting, and anticipates a strict examination of merits by the summits daemon. 
 
 2 It may be pled that Virgil handles the next world with some uncertainty, 
 but after all his fluctuations are distinctly within narrower limits, and his 
 greatness, lying in another direction, is unaffected. 
 
 3 ii. 650. 
 
 4 iii. 197. 
 
 5 On the worship of Achilles at Borysthenis, a Greek town on the Dnieper, 
 see Dio Chrysostom, Borystheniticug, 9, 14, 25.
 
 Quintus of Smyrna 99 
 
 as the hireling of another, with a landless man who had no great 
 livelihood, than bear sway among all the dead that be departed." 
 A similar divergence may be remarked between Homer and his 
 imitator, when the one speaks of the dead at Troy and the other of 
 Herakles. The wrath of Achilles "sent to Hades many strong 
 souls of heroes and gave themselves (avrovs i.e. their bodies) to be a 
 prey to dogs and all winged fowls." But when Herakles was burnt 
 on Oeta " his soul left the goodly man and mingled with the air, 
 and himself (auro's) was enrolled among the gods, when earth had 
 received his long-suffering body 1 ." Here a man's selfhabS travelled 
 from meaning his body to be his soul. 
 
 Now there falls to be added to the confusion another element. 
 We have seen the pleas advanced to Philoctetes and Oenone, that 
 the wrong-doer is the victim of fate, which implies that there is 
 no such thing as guilt or sin. Even so we saw that prayers 
 rejected become avengers, which implies that there is guilt. Is 
 there such a thing or not ? No blame is to be attached to Helen, 
 says Agamemnon, for the fault was all Paris', and therefore has he 
 been requited. Quintus accepts this view, and though Helen feels 
 some shame, as Aphrodite might in the lay of Demodocus, the Greeks 
 look on her as a goddess, as of course they had to in view of the 
 Odyssey. This distinction between guilt and freedom from guilt is 
 frail and will not stand rough usage. Quintus however manages to 
 put it immediately side by side with some reflexions on the fall of 
 Troy. "Justice, chief among the gods, brought much evil on the 
 Trojans, for they first wrought evil deeds in Helen's case, and first 
 did despite to oaths, hard men, when in the wickedness of their 
 heart they trampled under foot the dark blood and the sacrifices of 
 the gods ; wherefore the Erinnyes wrought woe for them thereafter 
 and so they perished, some before the wall and some in the city as 
 they feasted with their fair- tressed wives 2 ." 
 
 1 v. 6479. It may be objected that in the Odyssey (xi. 601604) Herakles' 
 image is with the dead -etdu\ov airrbs 5e per' adavaroun Oeoiffi T^p-n-erai but the 
 distinction is probably post-Homeric and an addition while the antithesis is not 
 the same as in Quintus. Herakles at all events met the common fate of man, 
 without achieving divinity, in the Iliad (xviii. 117 9). Quintus may be illus- 
 trated by the words of Hermes Trismegistus (the Latin translation printed with 
 Apuleius' works but not his, Ed. Bipont. Apul. vol. ii. p. 321) on Asclepius, 
 in quo ejus jacet mundanus homo, id est, corpus, reliquus enim vel potius totus, si 
 est homo totus in sensu vitae melior, remeauit in caelum. See Geddes, Problem of 
 Homeric Poems, p. 149. 
 
 2 xiii. 377 384. There immediately follow- the recovery of Helen and 
 Agamemnon's plea, helped out by the special intervention of Aphrodite who 
 gives her fresh beauty. 
 
 72
 
 100 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 That nothing may be wanting, the ghost of Achilles appears to 
 his son in the character of Polonius and all but quotes Hesiod to 
 him '. He explains that he is now with the gods, " forbear then to 
 be troubled for me, but put might into thy heart. Ever stand first 
 among the Greeks, yielding place to none in courage ; but in debate 
 hearken unto older men, and all will call thee wise. Honour such as 
 are blameless and have wisdom abiding with them, for the good is a 
 friend to the good, and the grievous man to the froward. But if 
 thou think what is good, good shall befall thee. But that man 
 never reached the goal of Virtue, who had not a righteous mind ; 
 for the stem of her is hard to climb and her shoots reach unto the 
 sky, but such as strength and toil attend, win from their labour 
 pleasant fruit, when they have ascended the goodly tree of Virtue 
 of the fair garland. But come, be valiant, nor in thy wisdom vex 
 thy mind overmuch for sorrow, nor delight greatly in good fortune, 
 but let thy heart be gentle to thy friends and thy sons and to 
 women. Men are like the flowers of the grass, withering and 
 blooming. Therefore be tender, and tell the Greeks, and most of 
 all Agamemnon, Atreus' son, if they remember all my travail about 
 the city of Priam, and the prey I took ere we came to Troy, to grant 
 me according to my desire, from among the booty of Priam, the 
 well-clad Polyxena 2 , that they sacrifice her with speed, for I am yet 
 angry and more than aforetime for Briseis," and, as ruler of Pontus 
 no doubt, he will raise a storm against them if they do not. So 
 Polyxena is sacrificed, and if Achilles does not raise a storm, 
 Athena does, in alarm lest, if Ajax the son of Oileus go un- 
 punished, men will not heed the gods and justice and shame perish 
 utterly. And with the elaborate drowning of Ajax, Quintus ends 
 his poem. 
 
 Our study has been long and tiresome, and what is the con- 
 clusion ? " The gods give not all things at once unto men, but by 
 some destiny evil standeth hard by good. So for Nireus, the king, 
 along with fair loveliness was ordained impotence 3 ." Quintus tells us 
 of the weariness and exhaustion of his age which could admire but not 
 create, which could echo the words of the thinker but not realize his 
 thought, and which clung to the past because it did not believe in the 
 
 1 xiv. 180222. 
 
 2 Chassang, op. cit. 368, remarks how utterly Quintus ignores the romance 
 that had, since classical times but long before his day, been woven round Achilles 
 and Polyxena (see Philostratus, Heroicus 323). This romance was one of the 
 most popular in the middle ages. 
 
 3 vii. 11.
 
 Quint/us of Smyrna 101 
 
 future. It may be said they felt, as the Church did not yet feel, the 
 value of beauty, but the beauty they loved wanted life, and the life 
 within the Church was in time to give birth to richer and fuller 
 beauty than they knew, to beauty embodying more of truth and 
 containing more elements of permanence. 
 
 Quintus with many another stood midway between the fervent 
 Julian and the bitter Palladas. He loved the Homer Julian loved, 
 but had he been able to understand his own mind, he would have 
 realized that his thought was as godless and as hopeless as that of 
 Palladas. But he did not understand, and the sense of life's hollow- 
 ness only came on his gentle soul now and then, and was lost again 
 in the dreamy pleasantness of living in the country and completing 
 Homer.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 AUSONIUS 
 
 Possem absolute dicere, 
 sed dulcius circumLoquar 
 diuque fando perfruar. 
 
 Ep. xii. (xvi.) 79 
 
 THE amiable Gibbon 1 remarks that the "poetical fame of 
 Ausonius condemns the taste of his age." So cultured a man 
 as Symmachus, the Pliny of his time and the mouthpiece of Roman 
 paganism, declares on his honour that he ranks Ausonius' poem 
 on the Moselle with the works of Virgil 2 . If corroboration be 
 needed for the statement of a heathen, St Paulinus of Nola supplies 
 it. He gently deprecates being called a yokefellow of Ausonius ; 
 "scarce Tully and Maro with thee could bear the yoke 3 ." The 
 Emperor Theodosius writes a most friendly letter begging the poet 
 to favour him with copies of his poems, as the greatest authors of 
 olden days, " whose peer your merits make you," did by Augustus 4 . 
 He and the Emperor Valentinian gave the poet commissions for 
 epigrams and so forth on the sources of the Danube, their favourite 
 horses and Easter, in which he was neither remarkably above nor 
 below the average of Poets Laureate. Finally it was to Ausonius 
 that Valentinian entrusted the education of his son Gratian, who 
 himself, when Emperor, raised his teacher to the very highest 
 dignities. It is clear then that by Ausonius we may in measure 
 judge his age. 
 
 1 Gibbon vol. iii. p. 356 (Milman and Smith). 
 
 2 Symm. Ep. i. 14, 5 ita dii me probabilem praestent ut ego hoc tuum carmen 
 libris Maronis adjungo. 
 
 3 Ep. 11, 38. 
 
 4 Praef. 3. Note illius privatae inter nos caritatis.
 
 Ausonius 103 
 
 In the works of Ausonius, whatever else may be wanting, there 
 is no lack of interesting detail about himself, his family and his 
 friends, and on the whole it is here that the chief interest lies. 
 He had no theories about poetry, no thought-out criticism of life, 
 to give mankind ; but sometimes trivial, always kindly, and in- 
 corrigibly and invariably leisurely, he strings together verses to 
 please himself, to amuse his friends or to do honour to those he loved. 
 I shall follow in the main the order of chronology in dealing 
 with himself and his writings, and if any one blame me for 
 occasional digressions of some length, I am sure the amiable poet 
 himself would have to defend me. 
 
 There is probably no poet of antiquity, and few of modern days, 
 of whose birth and connexions we know so much. The father of 
 Symmachus amused his old age by writing a series of memorial 
 verses for his old friends, and Ausonius did the same for his 
 family and the professors he had known from his youth at Bor- 
 deaux, His verses, I need hardly say, are much better than those 
 for which Avianius won such praise from his dutiful son 1 . Ausonius 
 tells us all about his father, and not only him, but his grandparents, 
 his sons, sons-in-law and grandsons, and, in a word and literally, 
 "his sisters and his cousins and his aunts," regretfully owning 
 that he does not know much about his wife's sister and knows 
 still less of her husband, but he cannot leave them out in the 
 cold 2 . It will hardly be necessary to enumerate them all here. 
 
 The poet's maternal grandfather, Arborius 3 , came of old Aeduan 
 stock and lived to ninety, leaving among his papers a forecast of 
 his grandson's greatness which came true. He was an astrologer, 
 though he preferred to conceal the fact. The maternal grand- 
 mother is described in language curiously near the account the 
 Barrack Room Balladist gives of Gunga Din 
 
 For all 'is dirty 'ide 
 
 'E was white, clear white, inside. 
 
 The poor lady was of dark complexion and was nicknamed Maura 
 (the Moor), " but she was not black in her soul, which was brighter 
 than a swan and whiter than untrodden snow." She was an austere 
 old lady, and kept her family " on the straight " (ad perpendiculum 
 seque suosque habuit 4 ). 
 
 1 Symmachus, Epp. i. 2 and 3. 2 Parentalia 21. 
 
 3 Parentalia 4. 4 ib. 5.
 
 104 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Ausonius' father 1 was the leading physician of Burdigala (Bor- 
 deaux) and apparently a fine man. With all his foibles Ausonius 
 was a good son, and time and again he tells us of his father's 
 qualities. He preferred " rather to live than to talk by the rule 
 of the wise" ; he was moderate in his ambitions, kindly, modest, a 
 good neighbour ; and he hated gossip and scandal. 
 
 Famam quae posset vitam lacerare bonorum 
 non finxi et veram si scierim tacui. 
 
 In his son's wake he too rose to glory and was Prefect of Illyricum 
 and lived to ninety, a hale and hearty old man. The poet's mother, 
 like a Roman lady of the good old days, had a reputation for 
 modesty, wool-making, conjugal fidelity and good discipline. 
 
 Ausonius was born at Bordeaux about 310 A.D. He was still 
 living in 390 according to Seeck, and as late as the end of 393 
 according to Peiper. Seeck however fixes no limit for his life, as 
 he came of stock so remarkable on both sides for longevity 2 . 
 
 His life, roughly, began with the reign of Constantine and ended 
 with that of Theodosius, and covered the period of the victory 
 of the Church over the Empire, of its struggle with Arianism and 
 its victory there, of the reaction of Julian and the final establish- 
 ment of well-defined orthodoxy. Nor are these eighty years with- 
 out interest in what is called secular history. Yet his life, as 
 mirrored in his poetry, is unruffled and serene, and this, though 
 he lived to see his imperial pupil murdered, a tyrant established 
 in his country, and religious persecution in learned circles. He 
 was undisturbed by the Arian controversy. He displays indeed 
 a certain carefulness to establish a good character as became one 
 of rank so high, but it gives the impression that the poet was not 
 interested in the dispute and contented himself by adopting at 
 second-hand the resultant and victorious creed. To his religion, 
 which though null in itself is important as a sign of the times, we 
 shall have to recur. 
 
 He was educated at Toulouse and Bordeaux. He had, to 
 begin with, eight years of training at Toulouse under his uncle 
 Arborius (c. 320-328), who was called about 328 to Constan- 
 tinople to bring up a son of Constantine (perhaps Constantius 
 
 1 Parentalia 1, and Epicedion. Notice especially the preface to this latter 
 piece post Deum semper patrem colui...alia omnia mea displicent mihi ; hoc 
 relegisse amo, not an unworthy feeling. 
 
 2 Seeck's Symmachus, Intr. p. Ixxxi. Peiper's edition of Ausonius is one of 
 the most helpful of the Teubner series.
 
 Ausonius 105 
 
 himself)- Then he returned to Bordeaux to finish his education, 
 and after some six years he became himself a professor of " Grammar " 
 and married Attusia Lucana Sabina. 
 
 As the life-work of Ausonius was education, and as his poems 
 are full of reminders of it, a discussion of the subject may not 
 be out of place 1 . Education had by his day been reduced to 
 something like system, but in Rome's greater days it was not so. 
 Then every man brought up his son after his own method, and 
 the result, if not precisely culture, was generally manhood. In 
 92 B.C. an innovation crept in and was promptly stopped for the 
 time' 2 . A Latin school of rhetoric was opened in Rome, but forth- 
 with closed by order of the Censors as contrary to Roman tradition 
 (mores majorum). The Greeks had been and continued to be in 
 private families the educators of Rome. They had introduced the 
 usual subjects of study in Greece, but had not been uniformly 
 successful with them. Philosophy the Roman reckoned to be 
 verbiage. Geometry was useless. About Rhetoric he was doubtful. 
 Grammar was obviously above suspicion. Grammar started by 
 meaning "the art of speaking correctly," and then fell to illus- 
 trating itself from the poets, whom it bodily annexed, finally ex- 
 tending its borders beyond prose to scansion, music and even 
 astronomy, philosophy and geometry. In fact, Grammar meant a 
 liberal education. One regrets therefore to see the old name 
 Grammar school dying out. Rhetoric was the art of setting forth 
 what one knew and concealing what one did not, and was therefore 
 more important than Grammar. It was generally agreed that the 
 two together made an education, though men complained that the 
 rhetorician poached on the grammarian's preserve and gradually 
 drove him out. 
 
 At first, as I have said, the teachers were private adventurers, 
 and some succeeded and some failed. Remmius Palaemon, we are 
 told, made 3200 a year 3 , and Orbilius, the famous teacher who 
 flogged Horace, lived to see a long old age of penury 4 . 
 
 1 I am indebted to M. Boissier's La Fin du Paganisme for a good deal of 
 what follows a charming book from which I have derived much advantage 
 in many matters. 
 
 2 Cf. Cic. de Or. iii. 24, 93. 
 
 3 Suetonius, de illustribus Grammaticis 23. This man was a freedman of 
 vicious habits but of ability. He used to maintain that Virgil's use of his name 
 in the Third Eclogue was a prophecy. He was one of Persius' teachers (Vita 
 Persii). 
 
 4 Suet, de ill. Gramm. 9.
 
 106 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Hence there was a tendency to accept positions under a scheme 
 which, if it meant no more Palaemons, at least excluded the grosser 
 forms of starvation. Julius Caesar recognized teachers of the liberal 
 arts and gave them exemptions from public service. Quiutilian 
 was a professor in Rome for twenty years and rescued Roman taste 
 by preaching Cicero 1 . Vespasian fixed the salaries in Rome at 
 800 a year (a very respectable minimum for a professor) 2 . Marcus 
 Aurelius founded chairs in Athens at 380 a year in Plato, Aris- 
 totle, Epicurus and Zeno (a catholic selection of subjects), and 
 wisely left the choice of professors to a scholarly friend Herodes 
 Atticus. Theodosius II. in 425 established a university at Con- 
 stantinople, with thirteen professors in Latin (three Rhetoric, ten 
 Grammar), fifteen in Greek (five Rhetoric, ten Grammar), and two 
 in Law. One in Philosophy seemed enough in a Christian uni- 
 versity 3 . They were forbidden private teaching, but could retire 
 after twenty years' service. 
 
 Turning to less advanced education, we find two grades of 
 school the village school and what we may call perhaps the 
 Grammar school, verging now and then into a college. These 
 schools were widely spread. We have an interesting letter of Pliny 
 (iv. 13) to Tacitus telling him about an arrangement for a school- 
 master at Como. Hitherto the boys had gone to school at Milan, 
 which Pliny thought a pity, so he offered the Como people part 
 of the salary of a teacher. This, he shrewdly remarks, was to 
 make them take an interest in the investment of their own money 
 in the other part of the salary. The village schoolmasters may 
 have been prodigies of learning compared with the villagers, but 
 they were not so regarded in the higher walks of letters. Litterator 
 has not a very honourable connotation 4 . The poor man had to teach 
 unwilling children their lessons, and St Augustine speaks feelingly 
 of the odiosa cantio unum et unum duo; duo et duo quattuor 5 . 
 
 1 x. 1, 112; Ille se profecisse sciat cui Cicero valde placebit. 
 
 2 Suet. Vesp. 18, primus e fisco Latinis Graecisquz rhetoribus annua centena 
 constituit. 
 
 3 Chassang remarks the absence of History (Hist, du Roman, p. 98), but it 
 might be included under Grammar or Khetoric. Staphylius, a rhetorician at 
 Bordeaux (Auson. Prof. 20), knew Livy and Herodotus at any rate. The 
 rhetorical conception of history was held by very respectable people. 
 
 4 Suet, de ill. Gramm. 4; Gellius, N. ^.xvi. 6, an amusing story. Macrobius 
 is particularly contemptuous, Sat. v. 19, 31. The word is applied to sciolists in 
 general. 
 
 5 Con/, i. 13, 22. In 13, 20, he says even Latin, as taught by these primi 
 magistri, was tiresome.
 
 Ausonius * 107 
 
 Ausonius writes an interesting poem to his grandson who is 
 going to school, and writes with a good deal of sense 1 . He begins 
 by hinting at holidays 
 
 The due vicissitudes of rest and toil 
 
 Make labour easy and renew the soil. 
 
 (Sed requie studiique vices rata tempora servant 
 
 Et satis est puero memori legisse libenter 
 
 Et cessare licet.} 
 
 But the gist is that little Ausonius (qui nomen am geris) must 
 not be afraid. It is pretty clear that the discipline in some 
 of the schools did not fall far short of being ferocious. The 
 grandfather urges that a master should never be a sight of 
 terror, even if he is stern with age and rough of tongue, and 
 his wrinkled brow bodes trouble. Let the little boy think of 
 Achilles and Chiron who was half horse truly a terrible school- 
 master. " So fear not you, though the school resound with much 
 thwacking and the old man your master wear a truculent frown. 
 ' Fear proves a soul degenerate ' [a half line of Virgil from his 
 lesson book to encourage the boy]. Be yourself and be bold, and 
 let not the noise and the sounding rods, nor terror in the morning, 
 make you afraid. The ferule, the birch and the tawse, and the 
 nervous fidgeting of the benches of boys, are the pomp and show 
 of the place. All this in their day your father and mother went 
 through. You too will be a man some day, and I hope a great 
 man." From this he passes on to tell him what they (grandfather 
 and grandson) will read together at some future time. After this 
 he speaks of his own methods of teaching, which seem much milder. 
 "Your grandfather knows about it all, after making trial of a 
 thousand natures in his teaching. Many in their years of infancy 
 have I nurtured myself. ..With soft bidding and gentle terror I 
 woo'd them to seek the pleasant profit at cost of trouble, to pluck 
 the sweet fruit of a bitter root." No one can read the affectionate 
 words Paulinus addressed to his old teacher without feeling there 
 must have been a charm about his teaching. He calls him "a 
 father, to whom God has willed I should owe all sacred rights and 
 all dear names 2 ." 
 
 The "grammar schools" managed by municipalities were apt 
 to be badly and unpunctually paid. Constantine legislated in the 
 
 1 Ep. 22. The boy was the son of Ausonius' daughter and his father was 
 dead. 
 
 2 Paulinus, Ep. xi. 91 (=xxx. in Peiper's edition of Ausonius).
 
 108 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 teacher's interests in this matter, and Gratian, Ausonius' pupil, 
 fixed a scale of salaries to be paid by the cities according to their 
 size and importance. It would seem to have been the aim of the 
 Emperors to control the schools a very significant fact. Some of 
 the positions were directly filled by the Emperor, some by the 
 Decurions (the long-suffering upper class). As these men probably 
 had to pay the teacher, this seems just ; but they needed looking 
 after. Sometimes they would ask advice from a man of eminence, 
 and in this way, on the recommendation of Symmachus, Augustine 
 (not yet a saint) was sent to Milan to the great advantage of 
 Christendom. Julian, who had particular reasons for wishing to 
 direct education, enacted that the choice of the Decurions should 
 be submitted to the Emperor. His more famous " schools " decree 
 forbade Christians to teach heathen liteiature. 
 
 This brings us (for I have said grammar schools and colleges 
 ran into one another) to the subjects of education in Ausonius' 
 day. That "idolatry which is midwife to us all 1 " still ruled the 
 schools despite Tertullian, and was still to rule them despite 
 Jerome. It was an incalculable boon to the Church that she could 
 not control the education of the young. They were still taught 
 Virgil and Cicero, Horace and Terence, and gained a wider outlook 
 on life, a larger range, and (not the least) a purer and more nervous 
 style in consequence. Virgil haunted the minds of such men as 
 Tertullian, Jerome and Augustine to their dying day. So we find 
 a Christian world full of schools and colleges where Christian men 
 trained the youth in heathen things. Literature was still heathen. 
 The exquisites still affected to sneer at Tertullian and Cyprian, 
 the strongest and the suavest of Latin prose writers since Tacitus 
 and Pliny 2 . Nay more, it was unbecoming to know anything 
 about Christianity. Dio Cassius never mentioned the word 
 " Jewish superstitions " served instead. So it went on. Panegyrics 
 were addressed to Christian Emperors without a hint that the 
 world's worship had undergone a change. Where allusions must 
 be made to higher powers, it is numen divinum " Divinity "- 
 a colourless word 3 . Roman writers of learning and intelligence like 
 
 1 Tertullian, dt Anima 39. 
 
 2 Lactantius, Instit. v. 1 of Cyprian, denique a doctis hujus seculi quibus 
 forte scripta ejus innotuerunt derideri solet. He had himself heard Cyprian 
 called Coprian. 
 
 3 So St Cyprian, whose training was rhetorical too, uses divina protectio, 
 majestas, pietas, benignitas, etc. He at all events was not "hedging," and his 
 use of the abstract shews it was a point of style as well as a most convenient 
 ambiguity.
 
 Ausonius 109 
 
 Macrobius and Eutropius manage to ignore the new faith entirely, 
 the latter mentioning it only once, the former never alluding to 
 it even indirectly. Claudian is even more triumphantly pagan 
 and flaunts the old gods and the altar of Victory in poems written 
 to celebrate that family of Christian Emperors who did most to 
 stamp out paganism, but he never -alludes to Christianity except 
 in one flippant epigram. Rutilius does not mention the name 
 though he attacks the thing, bitterly mocking the folly of mona- 
 chism and sighing over that conquest of Judaea, which had spread 
 the Jews and their infectious superstition over the world 1 . 
 
 While dealing with the relations of the schools and of literature 
 to Christianity, we may return to Ausonius and inquire where he 
 stood. His position is interesting, not because it is thought out, but 
 because it is typical of a class which must have been very numerous. 
 
 Ausonius, as we have seen, was a Christian, but he does not 
 proclaim it on the housetops. He has a group of little poems which 
 he calls the Ephemeris the day's work. He begins in bed with 
 elaborate Sapphics to waken his slave, but when "the rhythm of 
 Lesbian calm " fails, he gets him up at last with iambic dimeters 
 and concludes with an intimation that he will say his prayers. 
 This he does in dactylic hexameters, which have been pronounced 
 to be "nervously orthodox." The Father lacks beginning and 
 end and is older than time past or to be. The Son sits at the 
 Father's right hand, the Maker of all things, the word of God, 
 God the word, begotten in the time when time was not, God born 
 of Father unborn. This is to give the lie direct to the Arian ?/v 
 TTOTC ore OVK rjv there was when the Son was not though he shews 
 he is not a professional theologian by inserting the word "time" 
 in the first half of the phrase, which the Arians were exceedingly 
 careful to avoid. Point after point in his prayer may be illustrated 
 from the creeds of the Nicenes. He prays for the longed-for ray 
 of eternal light, " if he does not swear by gods of stone, and does 
 recognize Thee, the Father of the Only Begotten Lord and God, 
 and One with both the Spirit that brooded on the watery waves." 
 Elsewhere he is as careful. Dr Hodgkin sees more in his prayer, 
 and certainly he offers up some petitions for a manly moral life 
 to which Horace might have said Amen, but which I think St Paul 
 
 1 Atque utinam nunquam Judaea subacta fuisset 
 
 Pompeii bellis imperiisque Titi ! 
 latins excisae pestis contagia serpunt 
 victoresque suos natio victa premit. i. 389.
 
 110 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 would have considered not very far-going, if quite unexceptionable 
 so far as they go. To my mind the significant thing is the outburst 
 following the Amen : satis precum datum Deo. " Enough of 
 prayers, though of course guilty mortals can never pray enough. 
 Give me my outdoor things, boy, I have to call on some friends." 
 This may be very natural, but it is hardly suggestive of a specially 
 deep piety. Contrast it with Prudentius' Daily Round, where 
 every part of life is touched by religion 
 
 Christus et influat in pateras; 
 seria ludicra verba jocos 
 denique quod sumus aut agimus 
 trina superne regat pietas. 
 
 Thus much for the system and the subjects of study, but we 
 can go further. Ausonius has been admirably summed up by 
 M. Boissier as "an incorrigible versifier 1 /' but we may readily 
 pardon him, for the little obituary tributes, in which, as I have 
 mentioned above, he commemorated his Professors, let us see a 
 little of the life of a professor in those days, with hints of student 
 life too which we can supplement from elsewhere. 
 
 He begins with a man called Miuervius, a teacher of rhetoric, 
 who gave a thousand pupils to the bar and two thousand to the 
 Senate (probably round numbers). Minervius was a second Quin- 
 tilian, with a torrent of language, which rolled gold and never mud. 
 His memory would have made him a good whist player, for after a 
 game at backgammon (or some game of the kind) he could repeat 
 the throws in order from beginning to end. He was very witty, lived 
 to sixty, and would have been an ideal man for a combination room, 
 and " if there is a future life, he is still living on his reminiscences : 
 and if there is not, he lived for himself and enjoyed life here 2 ." 
 
 It is hardly necessary to detail them all. Two call for notice, 
 a father and a son, of Druid descent, Attius Patera and Attius 
 Delphidius by name. It is interesting to remark that where Roman 
 arms went, Roman culture followed, and often effected as much in 
 securing Roman domination 3 . At an early stage we learn that 
 eloquent Gaul has taught the Britons oratory, and Thule at the 
 world's end is thinking of engaging a rhetorician 4 . This mission of 
 
 1 F. P. i. 175. 
 
 2 He may very well, it is suggested, have been the senex Garumnae alumnus 
 who taught Symmachus, Ep. ix. 88. 
 
 3 Cf. Tacitus, Agricola 21. 
 
 4 So Juvenal vii. 148. We might add that Spain, in Quintilian of Calagurris, 
 taught Borne herself.
 
 Ausonius 111 
 
 education, for which Rome does not always receive credit, is one of 
 her noblest works. In Ausonius' day the best of Roman literature 
 came from Gaul, Spain and Africa. The elder Attius was a 
 cultured kindly rhetorician, who had the old age of an eagle or a 
 horse. The younger soared higher and fared worse 
 
 Felix quietis si maneres litteris 
 opus Camenarum colens 
 
 but even he had alleviations in his lot, for he did not live beyond 
 middle age and so did not see his wife and daughter turn Pris- 
 cillianists and meet a sad end at the hands of a persecuting 
 usurper. This murder, prompted by bishops and executed by 
 Maximus to gain the support of the Church, shocked the conscience 
 of the world, Christian or otherwise 1 . 
 
 Ausonius writes a Sapphic ode to his Greek professors, con- 
 fessing that he got very little from them, but generously owning 
 it was his own fault, "because I suppose a certain dulness of 
 perception stood in my way, and some baleful mistake of boyhood 
 kept me from applying myself to iny studies." Too true, for, though 
 he amused himself in translating Greek epigrams, I have caught 
 him in a false quantity here and there This perhaps served him 
 right for writing a barbarous jargon of Greek and Latin words 
 mixed. He only did it once, but that was once too often. Such 
 plays of humour as Kouaio-TwSea lucrov and omvoio fiovoio have 
 little to recommend their being written, nothing their publication. 
 I am afraid Ausonius was in good company, when he did badly 
 at the Greek. St Augustine asks, " Why did I hate Greek litera- 
 ture ? I greatly loved Latin not indeed what I learnt from the 
 man who taught me the elements, but what the Grammarians 
 teach." (He is no doubt thinking of Virgil.) Even Homer was 
 bitter to him as a boy. The Professors of Bordeaux and Toulouse 
 seem to have been on the whole a genial and agreeable set of men, 
 not very great perhaps nor always very good. One had to flee 
 to Spain owing to a damaged name (saucia fama), but there he 
 took a new one and a rich wife, and let bygones be bygones. They 
 moved from chair to chair from Bordeaux to Constantinople, and 
 back again looking out for heiresses and not unfrequently finding 
 them, for they were cultivated men and above all good company. 
 
 1 See chapter xii. pp. 292 293. Cf. Pacatus, Panegyric to Theodosiw 29 ...ut 
 unco ad poenum clari vatis matrona raperetnr. Obiciebatur enirn atque etiam 
 probabatur mulieri viduae nimia religio et diligentius culta divinitas.
 
 112 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Of one we are told that he did not know much, but quite enough 
 for the poor chair he held. In general, they were all that could 
 be expected. Paulinus complains that all they could do was to 
 "train the tongue and fill men's hearts with falsehood and 
 vanity" by which he means heathen literature. They lacked, 
 and Ausonius lacked, the root of the matter, and those who knew 
 them best and loved them best had to admit it. Style, polish, 
 grace, neatness were there, but not life, and its absence vitiates 
 all the excellence they attain. 
 
 The students were much like other students, but treated their 
 professors much worse or much better. Sometimes they would pay 
 no fees, or would desert a teacher just before they fell due, or 
 would leave him for one less strict. Here and there the teachers 
 had absolutely to form a sort of " union " (vvvO^Ktj) to safeguard 
 themselves 1 . 
 
 At Rome Theodosius had to make regulations for the students, 
 including the production of certificates of origin, registration, police 
 control and finally departure at the age of twenty. The students 
 from Africa in particular were so disorderly in Rome that Valen- 
 tinian ordered that if they went too much to the theatre and 
 festivals at night, or did not generally conduct themselves according 
 to the dignity of liberal studies, they were to be deported home 2 . 
 At home, in their own Carthage, they made the streets terrible 
 with their eversiones, interrupted classes, and in their "foul and 
 reckless licence " did things which were punishable by law nisi 
 consuetude patrona sit, says Augustine 3 . Freshmen seem to have 
 divided with professors the attentions of the energetic. But on 
 the other hand students would now and then as a mark of respect 
 escort their professor home, or do battle hand to hand with the 
 students of another professor to maintain the reputation of their 
 teacher, or to kidnap a freshman for their own class. Thus 
 Libanius went to Athens to study under a certain Aristodemus 
 apparently, but one evening he fell into the hands of the students 
 of Diophantus, who arrested him and kept him in durance till he 
 would swear allegiance, when they let him go, now one of them- 
 selves 4 . 
 
 Ausonius then became a professor in the university of Bordeaux 
 
 1 See Sievers, Libanius, p. 30. 
 
 2 Boissier, L'Afrique Romaine, c. vi. 1, p. 224. 
 
 3 Con/, v. 8, 14 on students at Carthage; v. 12, 22 Eome. 
 
 4 Sievers, Libanius, p. 46.
 
 Ausonius 113 
 
 about the age of twenty-four (334), and there he married Attusia 
 Sabina, and very proud of her he was. Among his epigrams, which 
 are many, some neat, some nasty, the best are addressed to her. 
 One is an apology, for which there is some need. Catullus apolo- 
 gised on the ground that, while the poet ought to be pure, his 
 verses need not be, in fact were better not to be 1 . Ausonius pleads 
 variety as his excuse, but as his dirtiness is purely conventional 
 and imitative it is the harder to pardon. However to his wife 
 he pleads thus 
 
 Lais and Thais, neither name 
 Of very specially good fame, 
 
 My wife reads in my song : 
 '"Tis nothing but his way to jest, 
 He makes pretence," she doth protest, 
 
 "He could not do me wrong." (Epigr. 39.) 
 
 Probably this was the case. Another epigram bears witness to 
 their happy relations. 
 
 Be life what it has been, and let us hold, 
 Dear wife, the names we each gave each of old ; 
 And let not time work change upon us two, 
 I still your boy, and still my sweetheart you, 
 What though I outlive Nestor? and what though 
 You in your turn a Sibyl's years should know? 
 Ne'er let us know old age or late or soon ; 
 Count not the years, but take of each its boon. 
 
 (Epigr. 40.) 
 
 This tender hope was not fulfilled. She died after some nine 
 years of married life at the age of twenty-seven, leaving two chil- 
 dren, a boy and a girl, their first little son having died when about 
 a year and a half old and learning to speak (Parent. 9). 
 
 At seventy, when he wrote his lines to his relatives (Parentalia), 
 Ausonius addressed her again. Her loss is still after thirty-six 
 years nee contrectabile vulnus, a wound he cannot bear touched. 
 "Old age permits him not to soothe his grief: it is ever sore and 
 ever new. Other sufferers find consolation in time's flight. Time 
 but the impression deeper makes... It makes his wound more cruel 
 
 1 Catullus 16, 5 f. Tennyson alludes to this, saying "I don't agree with 
 him ; his verses fly much further than he does. There is hardly any crime 
 greater than for a man with genius to propagate vice by his written words " 
 (Life, vol. ii. 400). See also Boissier on Martial's apology: Revue des deux 
 Mondes, 15 July, 1900. 
 
 G. 8
 
 114 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 that he has none to whom to confide his sorrows or his joys" 
 (Parent. 9). His elevation and distinction, much as he enjoyed 
 them, had still this amari aliquid. 
 
 To his father he wrote a pleasing letter in elegiacs on the birth 
 of his son. " I thought that nothing could be added to my 
 affection, that you my honoured father should be loved the more 
 
 What I owe as a son, a parent's care for your grandson tells 
 
 me. We must give my father the extra honour of a grandfather." 
 This must be the elder son, who died, and to whom he gave his 
 own and his father's name, Ausonius. To the younger, who lived, 
 he gave the name Hesperius, in which Seeck finds a variant for 
 Ausonius, the words being synonyms in Virgil. In the same way 
 the old grandmother's name Maura reappears in Melania, and 
 Arborius in Dryadia. Thus he called both his sons after himself. 
 The idea seems pretty, but, as Seeck points out, the ingenuity and 
 the easy invention of a new name betray that the family was not 
 of really high station, for then old names of the paternal and 
 maternal houses would have almost inevitably prevailed 1 . 
 
 Years passed while Ausonius still taught at Bordeaux, missing 
 his wife and attaching himself instead to his children and pupils ; 
 and in 359, when he was already forty-nine, a child was born who 
 was to raise him to glory. Valentinian, an officer in the army 
 under Constantius, had a son whom he called after his grandfather 
 Gratiau. Nothing specially remarkable seemed to be destined for 
 him, and yet this child was to be an Emperor and meet a cruel 
 death at the hand of the usurper Maximus at twenty-four (383 A.D.). 
 Constantius had no son, and, beside the heir presumptive Julian, 
 there were none of Constantino's family living. But in four years 
 Julian was dead in Mesopotamia, and the wretched Jovian had 
 succeeded him to the shame of the Roman world. Luckily this 
 person soon died (Feb. 17, 364), and a month later Valentinian 
 was made Emperor by the soldiers. 
 
 But before we touch further on Valentinian, an interesting point 
 may be raised about the reign of Julian. Julian forbade the 
 teaching of Classics by Christians in his famous schools decree of 
 362. Did this affect Ausonius ? His correspondence with Pauliuus 
 seems to shew that literature came before religion in his affections, 
 nor does he otherwise seem to have been the stuff of which martyrs 
 or even confessors are made. What did he do? Victorinus, one 
 
 1 See Seeck, Symmachus, Intr. p. clxxiv., n. 885.
 
 Ausonius 115 
 
 of the most famous Latin professors of the day, at once resigned 
 his position. I can hardly imagine Ausonius doing the same, and 
 yet I cannot well account for his subsequent history if he apostatized. 
 Rode, in his book on Julian, opens a way out of the difficulty by 
 pointing out that in the West little effect was given to the pagan 
 reaction. Probably then Ausonius was not questioned at all about 
 his religion a happy thing for him. 
 
 Valentinian, established as Emperor in the West, now called 
 Ausonius to undertake the education of Gratian an action bearing 
 witness to the repute of the poet, or rather the professor, after his 
 thirty years of teaching. In his capacity as tutor he was attached to 
 the court, accompanying the Emperor on his expeditions against the 
 Alamanni, there making the acquaintance of Symmachus (369), and 
 writing poems at the Imperial bidding, amongst others the famous 
 cento from Virgil. In it by ingeniously connecting a series of lines 
 and half-lines and phrases from Virgil he constructed a series of 
 hexameters on the subject allotted him I will not say a poem. 
 The method was at best trivial, and the production a disgrace to 
 its author as a scholar and a man. 
 
 Before we speak of his Moselle, it may be well to survey his 
 other attempts at literature. To his letters I shall return. He 
 was essentially a man of learning, of more learning than taste, and 
 like many Latin poets he liked to air it. He loved list-making 
 and trick-versifying, weaving into rhyme everything that went 
 by threes ' or by fours or by thirties, collecting all the monosyllabic 
 nouns in the language, and making 130 lines of verse each ending 
 in a monosyllable. " He has been at a great feast of languages 
 and stolen the scraps," and cooks them up into odd little messes 
 of his own, very ingenious but hopelessly trifling. The rhythm 
 of our Latin grammars 
 
 a abs absque coram de 
 palam clam cum ex et e 
 
 might have been his model. It is quite as poetical and every whit 
 as valuable. " Thirty days hath September," or a Latin variety of 
 it, is one of its gems. A line a-piece to each of the Roman 
 Emperors makes an historical poem. A catalogue of the cities of 
 
 1 In this "poem" (Griphus xvi.) there is a sort of accidental confession of 
 faith. After Cerberus' heads, the three Punic wars, the threefold nature of 
 Scylla (dog, woman and fish) he magnificently concludes ter bibe : tris numerus 
 super omnia, tris Deus unus. "With three sips the Arian frustrate" represents 
 surely a higher piety than this. 
 
 82
 
 116 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 the Empire, a series of epitaphs for the heroes of the Trojan war, 
 and a jingle about the Zodiac, five lines here on the Greek games, a 
 summary there of the twelve labours of Hercules, are things he 
 loves. Very many of his single lines are forceful or epigrammatic 
 as may be. Claudius non faciendo nocens sed patiendo fuit : Titus 
 was felix imperio felix brevitate regendi: admirable as historic 
 summary, even as neat verse, but hardly poetry. So in his 
 Moselle he cannot resist a list of the fishes found in the river, and 
 we have the names of fifteen varieties. In the same spirit we have 
 a hexameter letter cataloguing all the oysters he can remember, 
 but a humorous letter and a poem are different. 
 
 The Moselle was written in 370 or 371, when he was about 
 sixty years of age. It is his best work one might almost say his 
 only good work, were it not for the kindliness and feeling of some 
 parts of his Parentalia. It is a leisurely poem descriptive of the 
 river and its waters, its transparent shallows, its pebble beds and 
 swarms of fish, its banks with their vine-clad slopes and farm- 
 crowned heights, the rustic rivalry of the peasants, the merry 
 nonsense of boatman and wayfarer, the reflexion of everything in 
 the water till the river seems in leaf, the boys in their boats playing 
 at sea-fights or fishing, and so forth. The remarkable thing is his 
 escape from the conventional view of nature common in his day. 
 He does not exclusively contemplate the river as an adjunct to 
 man's environment, but takes a pleasure in it for itself. Take this 
 picture and contrast it with similar scenes in the Greek novelists 
 
 cum vada lene meant, liquidarum et lapsus aquarum 
 
 prodit caerulea dispersas luce figuras : 
 
 quod sulcata levi crispatur harena meatu, 
 
 inclinata tremunt viridi quod gramma fundo ; 
 
 usque sub ingenuis agitatae fontibus herbae 
 
 vibrantes patiuntur aquas lucetque latetque 
 
 calculus et viridem distingitit glarea museum. (61 7.) 
 
 Or again 
 
 quis color ille vadis, seras cum propulit umbras 
 
 Hesperus et viridi perfundit monte Mosellam! 
 
 tota natant crispis juga motibus, et tremit absens 
 
 pampinus et vitreis vindemia turget in undis. (192 5.) 
 
 These last two lines were particularly admired by Edward 
 FitzGerald. The two passages shew the poet at his best. He is 
 looking at nature at last, and, as he realizes her in his thought,
 
 Ausonius 117 
 
 his language rises with his conception. His stream is a real 
 stream, the water flows and the weeds are waving, we can see 
 the ribbed sand and the gleam of the pebble ; and, as so often 
 in Virgil, the verse and the picture explain each other. 
 
 Again, the lines are happy in which he describes "the village 
 Hampdens " the stream has known 
 
 quin etiam mores et laetum fronte serena 
 
 ingenium natura tuis concessit alumnis. 
 
 nee sola antiques ostentat Roma Catones 
 
 aut unus tantum justi spectator et aequi 
 
 pallet Aristides veteresque illustrat Athenas. (384 8.) 
 
 Such passages by their music, their dignity, and their graciousness 
 might warrant Syminachus in his daring comparison of their author 
 with Virgil. But Ausonius pleased his friends, or at least himself, 
 almost as much with that itch of his for petty scribbling (nostra ilia 
 poetica scabies) and the lists of triplets if one may judge from the 
 amount of such matter, though in justice to Symmachus it must be 
 added that he gently quizzes his old friend about his fish. 
 
 In 375 Valentinian died and was succeeded by Gratian, 
 and Ausonius rose to glory and his house with him 1 . Between 
 this date and 380 all the highest offices in the West were held 
 among the family, and the laws of the time betray the genius of 
 Ausonius. Laws were passed in favour of the literary and medical 
 professions and in defence of monuments of ancient art. Sym- 
 machus calls the poet consilii regii particeps, precum arbiter, legum 
 conditor (Ep. i. 23), and indeed Ausonius' very style has been 
 recognized in the wording of some of the laws. His son and son- 
 in-law were given high office, and his father too became in extreme 
 old age honorary prefect of Illyricum. Later on Ausonius was 
 himself made prefect of the Gauls, and with this prefecture Italy 
 was for a while united. Towards the end of 379 he gave up his 
 prefectures, but he had climbed still higher if possible, for he 
 had given his name as consul to the year 379. As he managed 
 in the years remaining to him to make a good many allusions to 
 these distinctions, and obviously felt them to be the crown of his 
 life, we may look into them. 
 
 It was Diocletian who introduced the system of prefectures 
 to secure the better administration of the Empire and maintain 
 
 1 In what follows I have used Seeck'a Introduction to his Symmachus 
 (pp. Ixxix., Ixxx.) a wonderfully thorough piece of work (Monumenta Germaniae 
 Historica).
 
 118 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 peace. The Roman world was divided into four prefectures the 
 East, Illyricum, Gaul, and Italy. The last two more closely concern 
 us. Italy comprised the dioceses of Italy (in modern nomenclature 
 Italy, the Tyrol, the Orisons, and South Bavaria), Illyricum proper 
 (Austria between the Danube and the Adriatic, and Bosnia) and 
 Africa (Algeria, Tunis, and Tripoli). Gaul included Spain (Spain and 
 Morocco), the "Seven Provinces" (France up to the Rhine) and 
 Britain (south of the Forth) 1 . It is thus seen that either prefecture 
 was more than a modern Empire. Each was ruled by a praetorian 
 prefect. This official in early days was a military officer in com- 
 mand of the praetorian guard, but with time he had developed into 
 a civilian from whose sphere the army was jealously kept. He 
 stood in the highest grade of senatorial rank, and was an Illustris. 
 It was not generally a cheap thing to hold this rank ; for though 
 it gave immunity from local taxation, which was heavy enough, 
 it involved other burdens, but from these retired civil servants, 
 court physicians., and professors and a few others were relieved. 
 This covered Ausonius. It may seem odd that professors should 
 attain rank so high, but there was a reason, and to it we shall 
 return. 
 
 The praetorian prefect within his prefecture was a little Em- 
 peror, responsible only to the Emperor himself, and the Emperor, 
 by a law of Constantino, would hear no appeal against his decisions. 
 Justice, finance, the coinage, the highways, the posts and the 
 public granaries were under the prefect's direct control. He could 
 appoint or dismiss at will the governors of the provinces in his 
 prefecture. These were not the old provinces of the Republic by 
 any means. We have seen that each of the western prefectures 
 had three dioceses (a word the Church has borrowed from the State 
 amongst much else), and these again were subdivided into provinces. 
 In the prefecture of Italy there were thirty provinces, and twenty- 
 nine in that of Gaul. Well might Lactantius growl that the 
 provinces were "snipped to scraps 2 ." Ausonius would thus have 
 the appointment of fifty-nine provincial governors. While all other 
 offices were annual it is easy to see why the Emperors should have 
 preferred the prefect's tenure to be very irregular, when the prefect 
 
 1 Claudian curiously gives us a metrical account of both Ausonius' prefectures 
 in his poem on the Consulship of Manlius Theodorus; Gaul in lines 50 57, 
 and Italy in lines 198 205. Neither is very poetical. See Gibbon, vol. iii. 
 p. 315; Hodgkin, Italy and her Invaders, i. 600 ff. ; Bury, Later Roman Empire, 
 L 37. 
 
 2 See p. C.
 
 Ausonius 119 
 
 was, as Dr Hodgkin sums it up, " a Prime Minister plus a Supreme 
 Court of Appeal." Eusebius puts it, that as he is to the Emperor, 
 so is the Eternal Son to the Eternal Father'. (One hesitates to 
 say which way the Bishop's illustration is the more tremendous.) 
 
 Apart from all this real power the trappings of office were mag- 
 nificent. The prefect wore a purple cloak reaching to his knee 
 (the Emperor's went to his feet). He rode in a lofty chariot with 
 four horses caparisoned in silver. He took precedence of every- 
 body, and even the officers of the army bowed the knee to 
 him. 
 
 No doubt in an administration like that of the Empire which 
 imprinted itself upon Europe, in many matters a prefect would 
 only have to follow a routine, to approve what was done by the 
 officials under him. It must also be remembered that the prefect's 
 work was not complicated by the necessity for any foreign policy, 
 and that Rome's idea was to allow the magistrate room to work, but 
 not opportunity for excessive individuality. Yet it has been elicited 
 by careful study of the Theodosian Code that a special arrangement 
 was made to relieve Ausonius. His son Hesperius was in 377 prefect 
 of Italy. In 378 Ausonius received the prefecture of the Gauls. 
 Very soon both prefectures were united in the hands of Ausonius 
 nominally, while really the burden of both fell on Hesperius, willing 
 enough, doubtless, to bear it for his father's sake. When in the 
 autumn of 379 Ausonius resigned the double duty, the prefectures 
 were separated, Hesperius retaining his own 2 . 
 
 The consulship however was Ausonius' special joy. To have 
 one's name added to a list nearly nine hundred years old, and to 
 know that through eternity the year will be officially dated Ausonio 
 Olybrio coss., must have quickened the dullest imagination. Of 
 course it could be foreseen by no one how soon a new reckoning 
 was to replace the old, and every Roman citizen believed in the 
 eternity of Rome, even if Juvencus did say that like the rest of the 
 world " golden Rome " would know an end some day. The consul- 
 ship was by now a name and no more, involving social preeminence 
 without practical power, but it was an object of ambition none the 
 less. Who would refuse a dukedom without a pang ? Julian tells 
 us there is no one who would not consider it a prize (^Xwrov) to 
 be named consul, for the honour of it per se reft of all else was 
 
 1 Quoted by Bury, L. R. E. i. 43. 
 
 2 See Seeck, Int. to Symi/uichus, p. Ixxx. From Symm. Ep. i. 42, 2 it would 
 seem Ausonius had felt his greatness a burden or had said so.
 
 120 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 as much as any power. It was a high title for an Emperor 
 Kai KOO-/U.OS), so for a subject what must it have been 1 ? At his 
 inauguration the consul gave great games and festivals, after which 
 he retired, as Gibbon says, "to enjoy during the rest of the year 
 the undisturbed contemplation of his own dignity." 
 
 Ausonius was so much overwhelmed by his own glory that he 
 thought of little else for long. He wrote a sort of panegyric, a 
 Gratiarum Actio, to Gratian. He had panegyrised the Emperors 
 before, but that speech is, I believe, lost. This one is senile and 
 very grovelling. His consulship, thanks to Gratian, involved no 
 canvass with awkward episodes of names forgotten ; no voting, no 
 election, no bribery. The Roman people, the Campus Martius, the 
 knights, the rostrum, the booths, the Senate, the Senate-house all 
 were summed up in Gratian. Nay, more, the Emperor had written 
 a letter honour above honours ! and had actually said he was 
 paying a debt in making Ausonius consul " gilded saying of 
 a golden mind !" (0 mentis aureae dictum bratteatum). He con- 
 trasts himself with other Imperial tutors, is very unfair to Seneca, 
 and remarks that Fronto was consul merely for two months in 
 somebody else's year; and in any case he "prefers a Gratian to 
 an Antonine." He rapturously analyses the Emperor's letter its 
 style and its kindness, and when he comes to Gratiau's instructions 
 that he is to wear Constantine's robes, his joy knows no bounds. He 
 was an old man, and had bred the Emperor from a child of five ; 
 so we must try to forgive him. 
 
 It is a little Jiard to-day to understand why the Emperors 
 attached so much importance to so obviously inflated and ex- 
 travagant panegyrics, and consequently to the rhetoricians and 
 professors who made them. The explanation lies in the fact that, 
 as Julian and others who discoursed on monarchy put it, the 
 goodwill of his subjects is the strongest buttress for a monarch. 
 In the absence of a press subsidized by government, the panegyric 
 conciliated public opinion, toned down awkward facts, emphasized 
 the advantages the Emperor daily conferred on his people, extolled 
 his character, his kindliness, his prowess, his glory, and, above all, 
 brought out the fact that there never had been an Emperor like 
 him 2 . (Also we may be sure there were Emperors who were able 
 to accept the most tasteless flattery, the supply creating a demand.) 
 
 1 Cod. Theod. ix. 40, 17 (xvi. Kal. Febr. Theodore Cons.), the edict on Eutro- 
 pius, speaks of divinum praemium comulatus. 
 
 2 So Schiller, Gesch. der r, Kaiserzeit, ii. 447.
 
 Ausonius 121 
 
 Such a panegyric would circulate as a pamphlet, and as the public 
 taste was for rhetoric, and here it was at its most rhetorical, we can 
 see how valuable the rhetorician was to an Emperor. This explains 
 in part 1 the deference paid by Julian and others to Libanius, and 
 the high regard the class had in general. In 392 a professor, 
 Eugenius, was actually made Emperor by Arbogast the Frank, 
 who modestly thought the world was not ripe for a Prankish 
 Emperor. Even to-day we see millionaires testifying to the in- 
 fluence of professors by removing them if they hold by free trade 
 or free silver or any other uncongenial heresy, but as a rule the 
 money goes to-day to buying the press 2 . How much exactly man- 
 kind has gained by having the press instead of the professor to 
 mould its views, we may leave optimists to compute. 
 
 The rest of the life of Ausonius need not detain us long. Gratian 
 passed under the influence of a much stronger man Ambrose of 
 Milan and met his tragic death in 383 at Lyons. Maximus 3 , 
 his murderer, held his court awhile at Treves, where Ausonius was. 
 The poet may have witnessed the sufferings of Priscillian and his 
 followers, among them the widow and daughter of a former professor 
 of Bordeaux. One wonders whether he met St Martin, and if they 
 did meet what the rather lukewarm professor and the very militant 
 saint thought of each other. But Ausonius may have got safely 
 back to Bordeaux before Maximus had to deal with either Priscillian 
 or Martin. At all events at Bordeaux he spent his declining years, 
 versifying as ever. Theodosius demanded verse of him, and he 
 wrote it not that he had anything to say, but Caesar's bidding 
 was inspiration enough. (Theodosius was not a man to be trifled 
 
 1 Symm. i. 20 (to Ausonius), iter ad capessendos magistratus saepe litteris 
 promovetur. At the same time there seems to have been some genuine respect 
 for learning, in spite of Ammianus' gloomy views. 
 
 2 The position of a professor does not seem to be as secure in the United 
 States as in England. The millionaire founder is too fond at times of having 
 his own views taught. 
 
 3 See Sulpicius, Dial. ii. 6; iii. 11 on Maximus, p. 291 f. Ausonius only 
 alludes to him in congratulating Aquileia on having seen his end : 
 
 solveret exacto cui sera piacula lustra 
 Maximus, armigeri quondam sub nomine lixa. 
 felix quae tanti speculatrix laeta triumphi 
 punisti Ausonio Rutupinum Marie latronem. 
 
 Ordo Urbium 9. 
 
 Eutupiae, Maximus' native place, is Eichborough, near Sandwich, in Kent. 
 If he had succeeded, Ausonius might have accepted him as Symmachus un- 
 happily had already.
 
 122 Lfife and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 with blando vis latet imperio.) His profession is at least in- 
 genuous 
 
 non Jiabeo ingenium: Caesar sed jussit, habebo. 
 
 He was still busy with extracts, tours de force, " April, June, and 
 dull November," but we shall find it more interesting to turn to 
 his correspondence. 
 
 I am afraid the letters of Ausonius can hardly be called very 
 interesting Some are better than others, but as a rule he has 
 little to say and spends all his energies on his phraseology. Pliny's 
 was the first great series of letters written for publication, which 
 has reached us. After his day letter-writing became a regular 
 branch of rhetoric, and letters are no longer so much letters as a 
 form of literary parade. The nine hundred letters of Symmachus 
 are characterized according to Gibbon by a " luxuriancy, consisting 
 in barren leaves without fruits and even without flowers." Such 
 a criticism would no doubt have shocked their amiable author, but 
 it is just and applies to most of the surviving collections of the 
 day, apart from the theologians' epistles which are often in reality 
 treatises. 
 
 The correspondence of Ausonius (if I may borrow an epigram 
 of the combination room) is "like Hollandaise sauce a lot of 
 butter and no flavour." Ausonius compliments Symmachus, and 
 is very modest : and Symmachus is very modest and compliments 
 Ausonius, till the reader feels that Symmachus for once has, in one 
 of his apologies, hit the nail on the head Videbor mutuum scabere. 
 " Come and see me and bring a cart load of Pierian furniture (list 
 herewith) " is the burden of a number of these letters the 
 characters figuring as " Cadmus' brunettes" (Cadmi nigellae filiae, 
 Cadmi filiolis atricoloribus). We must except from this condem- 
 nation the letters above-mentioned to his father on his son's birth 
 and to his grandson. To these may be added the letter to Paulinus 
 about the steward who, after failing in his proper duties, has gone 
 off trading, " enriching himself and impoverishing me " (se ditat 
 et me pauperai), and has got into trouble at Hebromagum. Here 
 at all events Ausonius had something to say at last. 
 
 But most interesting after all is the group which ends the 
 volume the correspondence with Paulinus. Paulinus was a 
 favourite pupil of Ausonius, on which M. Boissier cruelly remarks 
 " On n'est guere disposd aujourd'hui a Ten fe'liciter," but he himself
 
 Ausonius 123 
 
 thought it had been his making 1 . Certainly he owed his consulship 
 to Ausonius' influence. He was a distinguished literary man as 
 things went ; his only fault was, according to Boissier, to be 
 " eternal " ; and in every way all promised well for his future. 
 Whether it were his Spanish wife Therasia, or the influence of 
 St Martin that was to blame, he suddenly forsook the world. He 
 withdrew first to Spain and then to Italy, where he settled by 
 the tomb of St Felix at Nola and wrote a birthday ode to the saint 
 every year. Ausonius was puzzled to imagine what could have 
 induced a man who had drawn so much from him thus to abandon 
 all that during nearly eighty years had been to himself the interest 
 and the worth of life 2 . He had left the Muses for what ? Ausonius 
 wrote him letter after letter in a rambling, senile, affectionate way 
 to win him back : picturing agreeably enough his own joy when 
 his prodigal returns, and rather querulously asking why he was 
 treated so. Well he might, for no answer came for some years, 
 as his letters had gone astray (a curious illustration of the rather 
 haphazard postal service of the day for private people) 3 . 
 
 At last we hear from Paulinus, who explains the mishap to 
 Ausonius' letters, and then sets forth why he has forsaken the 
 world mens nova mi, fateor, mens non mea. He writes kindly 
 but clearly and at enormous length. He has found something 
 Ausonius' Muses could not give. He has learnt that life means 
 more than an opportunity to versify Suetonius, as he had been 
 doing in a desultory way. He owes Ausonius more than he can 
 say let Ausonius then be glad he has trained a servant for Christ. 
 Rhetoric and rhyming have their place, but they cannot save the 
 soul : that lies beyond a professor's power, and still it is life's end. 
 So long as he lives, he must live for Christ, and prepare for the 
 great day of the coming of the Lord. For " He who sits on the 
 eternal Father's throne at His right hand, is set as a King over 
 all, and, when the years have passed, He shall come to judge all 
 nations with equal justice." This thought, he says, haunts him, 
 as we know it did Sulpicius, his friend and correspondent, who 
 
 1 It was a friendship of the second generation, as their fathers had been 
 friends before them. Ep. 27, 106. 
 
 2 The Christian leaders of the day understood Paulinus better and heralded 
 him as a great example; see Ambrose, Ep. 58, etc. 
 
 3 Synesius' correspondence may also illustrate this, Ep. 123 : Syn. was for 
 two years away from home and the letters of Troilus were not forwarded to him 
 but awaited his return. Ep. 129, Syn.'s letters to Pylaemenes (in Constanti- 
 nople) went to Alexandria (probably the proper way) and after being held there 
 or sent astray for a year came hack to their writer in Cyrene.
 
 124 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 fell into millenarism, and the poet Prudentius, who again and 
 again tells of the Last Judgment. He fears lest his soul, 
 
 si forte recluso 
 
 increpitet tuba vasta polo, non possit in auras 
 regis ad occursum levibus se tollere pinnis 
 inter honora volans sanctorum milia caelo. 
 
 If his course pleases Ausonius, let him congratulate his pupil ; if 
 not, Christo tantum me linque probari. 
 
 What Ausonius may have thought of this response, we are not 
 told. I doubt if he could have really understood the mind of his 
 friend at all. Paulinus was not a great man by any means a dull, 
 wordy, worthy creature. Yet the weight in the correspondence 
 lies with him, and one feels at once the contrast between the 
 amiable inanity of the old poet and the glowing devotion of the 
 younger man. Ausonius stood for the past, so far as he understood 
 himself. But a new spirit was at work in the world, and a new 
 age was beginning. Prudentius represents this new age best among 
 his contemporaries ; and whether one weigh them as makers of 
 music, as poets, as thinkers, or as men, Prudentius is greater than 
 Ausonius every way. Hippocrene was exhausted, and the poets, if 
 they are to serve mankind, must go to Jordan 1 . 
 
 Yet, with all his amiable doggerel and list-making, Ausonius 
 has been set down as the first of French poets, as Sulpicius is of 
 French prose-writers, for after all he wrote the Moselle. 
 
 1 I may be allowed to adapt Fuller's happy epigram on Sternhold and 
 Hopkins, who had "drunk more deep of Jordan than of Helicon." Juvencus 
 had already prayed that his mind might be sprinkled with the pure waters of 
 dulcis Jordanis, but, as all his readers know, he had drunk almost as deep of 
 Mincius.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 WOMEN PILGRIMS 
 
 Non Hierosolymis fuisse sed Hierosolymis bene vixisse laudandum est. 
 
 JEROME, Ep. Iviii. 1 
 
 THE pilgrim movement of the fourth century was not un- 
 heralded. From the days of the earliest Greek mariners, who explored 
 the new world of Italy and Sicily and voyaged to the old world of 
 the Nile, a never-ceasing series of travellers had given their tales to 
 mankind. The conquests of Alexander had thrown open fresh 
 regions for adventure, and when the Romans with the widening of 
 their empire came more and more under the influence of Greek 
 literature, travel was at once safe and suggestive. The scenes of 
 the Trojan war, and of the great wars of historical Greece, the spots 
 hallowed by memories of Socrates, of Euripides and the famous 
 names of the past, the monuments of ancient art and not least the 
 holy places, where for generations men had by the mysteries found 
 access to the unseen, all drew to themselves the more thoughtful 
 and cultured among the Romans. Nor were the motives that took 
 men abroad only those of the sight-seer, the scholar and the pious 
 antiquary. New cults, which had not the associations of ancient 
 Greece, now and again prescribed the penitential pilgrimage. 
 Germanicus and Hadrian wandered in the course of their official 
 progresses to one and another famous place, and from time to time 
 were initiated into the ancient mysteries of Eleusis or Samothrace. 
 Against this nothing could be justly said, but it was another thing 
 when the priests of Isis bade Roman ladies go to the far bounds of 
 Egypt and fetch waters from burning Meroe to sprinkle in the 
 goddess' shrine in Rome 1 . 
 
 1 Juvenal vi. 527.
 
 126 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 The novels of the early centuries of our era, if they do not aim 
 at presenting the life of their time, at least betray some of its 
 interests. Their scenes and dates are vague, but their adventures 
 and travels are vivid. Pirates and Ethiopians and hair-breadth 
 'scapes crowd one another in quick succession. It is a poor heroine 
 who is never kidnapped. So we range from Tyre to Alexandria and 
 far beyond, and meet strange men with black hearts and black faces, 
 and the heroine comes home unscathed. And every here and there 
 the divine is introduced with a lavish hand, and thunders and 
 lightnings and inspired dreams avert many an awful crisis. Stories 
 like that of Apuleius are less common, good novels perhaps being a 
 small minority in every age. The popular taste demands a certain 
 style of fiction, and so it leaves behind it evidence on which posterity 
 will condemn it. The novels are poor but they prove the interest 
 felt in travel. 
 
 How easy, as compared with former days, travel was under the 
 early Empire, is shewn by the rapid spread of Christianity 1 . There 
 was universal peace, the great roads were kept in repair and free 
 from brigands, one rule and two languages were universal instead of 
 the many formerly prevailing, and Christians passed quietly in their 
 obscurity from shore to shore. Their story was new and for the 
 present, for the end of the world was at hand ; and though, as time 
 went on, it included more of the future, it had hardly as yet a past 
 to waken historic sentiment. And quite apart from this, the 
 Christian world had scant leisure for retrospect. Men and women 
 had ever to be ready for sudden travel, but it was to escape perse- 
 cution, and wherever it scattered them they were more prompted 
 to preach than to dream. Still as early as 212 a man, Alexander 
 by name, is recorded to have made a journey from Cappadocia to 
 Jerusalem to pray and to study the geography of "the places 2 ." 
 A little later (about 216) Origen, commenting on St John i. 28, 
 remarks that "he is convinced the right reading is not Bethany but 
 Bethabara, for he has visited the places to follow out the footsteps 
 of Jesus and His disciples and the prophets 3 ." In his reply to 
 Celsus, he appeals to the evidence of the cave and manger of 
 Bethlehem, which would seem to imply that he had seen them 4 . 
 
 1 See Eamsay, St Paul the Traveller and the Roman Citizen, p. 352, for an 
 interesting account of Eoman Imperial policy in promoting ease of communica- 
 tion within the Empire. 
 
 2 Eusebius, Eccles. Hist. vi. 11. 
 
 3 Origen, Comm. Joh. torn. vi. 24 (40). 
 
 4 Origen, in Celsum, i. 51.
 
 Women Pilgrims 127 
 
 With the victory of Constantine a new age began, an age of more 
 freedom and also in general of less spirituality. Foreign ideas had 
 filtered already into the Church, now they streamed in, and the 
 Christian was almost directed (in spite of such men as Augustine) 
 to the external. 
 
 Christianity had given women a new honour in the world and a 
 new outlook on life. From the first it was asserted that in Christ 
 was neither male nor female, and though the Church in deference 
 to old prejudice frowned on her performing some of the more exalted 
 Christian duties, forbidding her the priestly office and trying to 
 discredit the story of Thecla's baptisms ', woman took her place with 
 man in the maintenance and the extension of the faith by martyr- 
 dom and Christian living. The Church delighted to contrast the 
 swarms of Christian virgins with the reluctant though well-paid 
 Vestals 2 , and it was in virginity that woman's great opportunity 
 seemed to lie. It had taken asceticism some three centuries to 
 capture the Church, a clear proof in a world, which could con- 
 ceive of no other type of holiness, that it was not the original con- 
 ception of the Church's Founder and His immediate followers. 
 
 While more than one of the great Fathers found it desirable to 
 write treatises on the dress, the veils and the general deportment 
 of Christian women devoted to the celibate life 3 , it was not till the 
 fourth century that there appeared so ardent a pleader for the 
 convent and the extreme rigour of asceticism as St Jerome. The 
 saint was a great scholar but a greater rhetorician. Rhetoric indeed 
 formed a large part of the training of all the fathers of this century, 
 but Jerome's rhetoric has neither the idle wordiness of Paulinus 
 nor the spiritual intensity of Augustine. He has no lack of ideas, 
 but they are generally apt to be superficial. He was rhetorician 
 rather than scholar, and scholar rather than thinker. 
 
 Jerome is never so copious or so coloured as when he dilates on 
 the glory of celibacy and the poverty, the pettiness and the ignominy 
 of married life. There can be little doubt that the life of Pagan 
 society in Rome was a dull round of splendour. It had culture, it 
 had wealth, it had splendid lineages, but it lacked inspiration, life 
 and perhaps intelligence 4 . But it is of Christian society that 
 
 1 Cf. Tertullian, de Bapt. 17. 
 
 2 E.g. Prudeutius, adv. Symm. ii. 1063 and following. 
 
 3 See Benson, Cyprian i. xii. p. 51 f. 
 
 4 In Ammianus Marcellinus we read an indictment of Roman society, as 
 scathing as anything of St Jerome's and more amusing (xiv. 6; xxviii. 4). The 
 letters of Symmachus shew us Rome from within, a weary spectacle.
 
 128 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Jerome speaks so harshly. "I would not have you consort with 
 matrons," he writes to Eustochium, aged seventeen 1 , "I would not 
 have you approach the houses of nobles ; I would not have you often 
 see what in contempt you renounced to remain a virgin... Will you, 
 the spouse of God, hasten to the wife of a man ? Learn here a holy 
 pride; know you are better than they. Nor do I desire you to 
 avoid those alone, who are puffed up by their husbands' glories, 
 whom flocks of eunuchs surround, and in whose clothes mines of 
 gold beaten to thread are woven; but avoid those too, whom 
 necessity, and not their choice, has made widows not that they 
 should have wished their husbands to die, but that they did not 
 gladly catch at the chance of a life of purity. Though they have 
 changed their garb, their pride is unchanged. Before their litters 
 march the ranks of eunuchs ; their rouged cheeks and their plump- 
 ness suggest, not that they have lost, but that they are looking for 
 husbands Their houses are full of flatterers, full of banquets..." 
 and he goes on to say the flatterers are clergy kept by a retaining 
 fee. He sums up his position toward marriage, a little below; 
 "I praise marriage, I praise wedlock, but because they bear me 
 virgins ; I gather from the thorn the rose, from the earth the gold, 
 from the shell the pearl 2 ." A married woman may thus rise to be 
 "mother-in-law of God" (socr-us Dei). 
 
 The woman then who would live the perfect life must be a 
 virgin, and more, a nun secluded from the world and knowing only 
 the cloister and the church. In one of his letters (cvii.) Jerome 
 sketches the education he would wish given to a little girl dedicated 
 by her parents to the nunnery from her birth. The little Paula 
 must not learn worldly songs (probably nursery jingles) but the 
 Psalms. Her only play is to be with wooden or ivory letters of the 
 alphabet. She is to be gently taught to read and love books, but 
 she must not use baby- words (dimidiata verba) 3 or wear gold or 
 purple. A grave nurse must teach her to chant Alleluia to her 
 grandfather 4 . Her ears are not to be pierced for ear-rings, her face 
 must know no white lead or rouge or any other cosmetic, her 
 neck no gold or pearls, her head no gem, her hair no red dye all 
 
 1 Jerome, Ep. xxii. 16. 
 
 2 Id. ib. 20. 
 
 3 A celibate view, with which contrast Minucius Felix 2. 1 et quod est in 
 Liberia amabilius adhuc annis innocentibus et adhuc dimidiata verba tempt ant ibux, 
 loqutllam ipso o/ensantis linguae fracimine dulciorem. 
 
 4 He was a pagan, a friend of Symmachus, Publilius Caeionius Caecina 
 Albinus by name, and he appears in Macrobius' Saturnalia. See Seeck, Sym- 
 machus, pp. clxxv. clxxx.
 
 Women Pilgrims 129 
 
 which things savour of hell. Her only walk is to be to church. 
 She is not to eat before strangers, and she should drink no wine. 
 Musical instruments she must not touch. Latin and Greek, reading 
 and praying, psalm-learning and wool-work (not silk or embroidery) 
 should afford her day variety. Perhaps she had better not have 
 baths at all, for it is not pleasant for her to see herself unrobed 1 . 
 How can all this be managed ? It would be hard in Rome, so the 
 little maid had better be despatched to her grandmother and aunt in 
 Bethlehem, Paula and Eustochiutn. 
 
 The life here pictured might in time be tedious for a scholar. 
 The monks of the middle ages found it so. What must it have 
 been for a child, for a young girl ? There is pleasure in the healthy 
 exercise of a natural function, and beings created to be active must 
 have chafed under such a vegetable life. One woman, of whom 
 St Jerome tells us 2 , could not face it. Her name was Fabiola and 
 she was twice married. On the death of the second husband she 
 sold all and " was the first of women to found a hospital (voo-oKo//.etov), 
 in which to gather the sick from the streets and cherish poor folks' 
 bodies wasted by sickness and hunger." She nursed them herself 
 awhile and then suddenly astonished people by going off to Jeru- 
 salem. Another, Paulina, daughter of the more famous Paula, built 
 a ei'oSo'xioi/ or guest-house in Portus 3 . 
 
 But a more frequent resource to escape the dulness of secular 
 or religious life in Rome was the pilgrimage. Movement, change of 
 scene, novel situations and fresh society must have been salvation 
 to many a weary soul from stagnation at least and perhaps from 
 loss of reason or character. It may be permissible to say that the 
 pilgrimage involved a certain amount of masculine society, if it were 
 only that of Egyptian monks. At times it would mean adventure 
 and real danger and a military guard. Beyond such motives, 
 however, there were higher ones, a genuine interest in following 
 intelligently the life of our Lord in the land where He had lived, 
 and in marking every spot associated with any episode of His 
 history ; a desire to meditate and to pray with the impress on one's 
 mind of the holy places, where so many great ones of the past had 
 prayed and had been heard ; a feeling that "it was part of the faith 
 to worship where the feet of the Lord had stood, and to see as if in 
 all their freshness the traces of the nativity, the Cross and the 
 
 1 A monkish fancy shared by Antony and Amun according to the novelist 
 (V. Ant. 47. 60). 
 
 2 Ep. Ixxvii. 6. 3 Ep. Ixvi. 11. 
 
 G. 9
 
 130 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 passion 1 ." Thus were combined the student's hope to understand 
 and the mystic's to enter more fully into the life of the Lord. Over 
 and above all this, we must remember that honour was being 
 directed more and more to saints and martyrs everywhere, that 
 prayer was paid at their shrines and martyries, and that their aid 
 was reckoned a factor in the spiritual life 2 . And further a 
 suspicious importance began to attach to relics of the saints, and 
 the pilgrim to the East was often able to collect them. For 
 example, Cyril of Jerusalem 3 and Paulinus of Nola both testify 
 to the practice of pilgrims taking away fragments of the Holy Cross, 
 the latter assuring us that the wood miraculously replenishes itself. 
 St Silvia tells us incidentally of one covetous man who made a 
 pretext of kissing the cross and surreptitiously bit out a mouthful 
 as a relic 4 . 
 
 Of St Jerome's own residence in Palestine and of the visit paid 
 to him at Bethlehem by Sulpicius' friend Postumian, I do not here 
 speak. My subject is rather the pilgrimages of women, and I have 
 to deal with Melania, with Paula and her daughter Eustochium, 
 and especially with St Silvia of Aquitaine. All these were in 
 Palestine between 381 and 388, and by comparing their stories we 
 may get a clearer idea of the spirit of their times. 
 
 Melania 5 was a Roman lady of noble origin, the daughter and 
 granddaughter of Consuls. She early "suffered marriage" and was 
 soon a mother. After a few years of married life, she lost her 
 husband, and before he was cold or, at least, buried, two of three 
 sons also died. "I am going," says St Jerome, "to tell a thing 
 incredible, but, before Christ, true. Not a tear-drop fell ; she 
 stood immovable, and falling at Christ's feet, as she were laying hold 
 on Him Himself, she smiled. 'More easily,' said she, 'can I serve 
 thee now, Lord, in that thou hast relieved me of so great a 
 burden'." She came to Rome with one surviving infant boy, whom 
 
 1 Jerome, Ep. xlvii. 2. 
 
 2 Cf. Prudentius, irepl <rTe<f>. xii. 59, on pilgrims to St Peter and St Paul in 
 Rome; and Sulpicius Severus, Dial. i. 3 loca visitare sanctoi-um et praecipue ad 
 sepulcrum Cypriani martyris adorare. 
 
 3 Cyril Jer. Catech. III. x. 19; xiii. 4; and Paulinus, Ep. xxxi. 6. 
 
 4 Dio Cassius 51. 16 says that at Alexandria Augustus saw the body of 
 Alexander the Great and broke off a piece of the nose. This story, most 
 probably untrue, yet shews the early prevalence of the passion for keepsakes. 
 Jerome, In c. 23 Matth. I. iv. says such things as fragments of the Cross or 
 little gospels were worn as amulets by superstitiosae mulierculae after the 
 manner of the ancient Pharisees. (Neander.) 
 
 5 Her name is variously given as Melauius, Melania and Melauium. See 
 Paulinus, Ep. xxix. ; Jerome, Epp. xxxix. 4; xlv. 4; and Chron. ad an. Christi 
 377 for her story.
 
 Women Pilgrims 131 
 
 "she flung into the bosom of Christ," says Paulinus. Jerome" more 
 prosaically says she left him to the Praetor Urbanus, after trans- 
 ferring her property to him 1 . Then, though friends opposed and it 
 was the middle of winter, she set sail for the East, taking Egypt 
 on her way to Jerusalem, and there she stayed for some five and 
 twenty years (374 399). Her virtues, of which humility was the 
 chief, won her the name of a new Thecla. She lived through the 
 Arian persecution of Valens, who fell at Adrianople in 378; she 
 was arrested but dismissed from the court, and fed large numbers 
 of monks through the troublous days 2 . When Jerome came to the 
 East, she lived in close friendship with him and Paula, avoiding baths 
 and unguents, and practising fasting and filthiness. At the end of 
 . the century she returned to Italy, and after landing at Naples went 
 to Nola, where Paulinus says her arrival caused a great sensation, a 
 great throng of people in purple and silk escorting her in her rags. 
 She gave Paulinus a tunic of lamb's wool, and he read to her 
 Sulpicius' life of St Martin, from which she might have learned that 
 even at home life might be lived well. The tunic and part of a 
 fragment of the true cross, given her by John bishop of Jerusalem, 
 were passed on to Sulpicius. This "woman, if so manly a Christian 
 may be called a woman 3 ," lived some twenty years longer, probably 
 in Palestine. 
 
 Melania's departure to Palestine attracted much attention in 
 Rome, but perhaps even more was excited by Paula who left there 
 in 382 3. Paula 4 was the daughter of Rogatus, who claimed a 
 proud descent from Agamemnon, and of Blaesilla, as proudly 
 descended from Scipios and Gracchi. She was married at sixteen 
 to Julius Toxotius, a descendant of Aeneas and the Julii, who, as 
 became one sprung from Venus, was true to paganism. She bore 
 him five children, four girls and a boy, and then he died, leaving 
 her for a while inconsolable, till she turned to the religious life. In 
 
 1 Antony (Vita Ant. 36) represented /twij/cn? " oiKflwv as actually a temptation 
 of the devil. Sulpicius (Dial. i. 22) has a tale confirming this, how the devil 
 tempted a monk to return and convert his wife and son. 
 
 2 A footnote of Gibbon's may be transcribed (vol. iv. p. 316): "The monk 
 Pambo made a sublime answer to Melania who wished to specify the value of 
 her gift : Do you offer it to me, or to God? If to God, HE who suspends the 
 mountains iu a balance need not be informed of the weight of your plate. 
 (Pallad. h. Laus. 10.)" 
 
 3 The phrase is borrowed from Paulinus. Cf. Porphyry, ad Marcellam c. 33, 
 fjt,r]d^ yvvaiKO. idrjs ffairijc. 
 
 4 Jerome, Ep. cviii. 3 and following. Also xlv. 4 Nullae aliae Romanae 
 urbi fabulam praebuerunt nisi Paula et Melanium, quae contemptis facultatibus, 
 pignoribusque desertis, crucem Domini quasi quoddam pietatis levavere vexillum. 
 
 92
 
 132 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 382 a synod of bishops from East and West was held in Rome 
 under Pope Damasus, and intercourse with some of these gave 
 Paula new ideas, and "she yearned to go to the desert of the Pauls 
 and the Antonies." Her eldest daughter was dead, the second 
 married, and the third Eustochium practically dedicated to virginity, 
 but the fourth was of marriageable age and had no mi ad for celibacy 
 and joined with the son, the little Toxotius, in imploring their 
 mother to stay, at least for a while. "Yet she raised dry eyes to 
 heaven and overcame love of children with love of God. She knew 
 not she was a mother, that she might prove herself Christ's hand- 
 maid." 
 
 Before following her on her journey, we may learn her feelings 
 from a letter she wrote 1 . She was obeying, so she said, the teaching 
 of Scripture, wherein God had said to Abraham, "Get thee out from 
 thy country." Had Christ not loved Jerusalem, He had never wept 
 over it. The Ark of the Covenant has indeed passed from it, but 
 the Lord's sepulchre is there ; "and as often as we enter it, we see 
 the Saviour there, lying in the linen ; and if we wait a while, we 
 see the Angel sitting at His feet, and at His head the napkin rolled 
 together." "In every place we venerate the tombs of the martyrs, 
 and put the sacred ashes to our eyes, and if we may we touch them 
 with our lips too." How many holy men have felt they had not 
 received "the finishing touch in virtue, unless they had adored 
 Christ in those places, whence first the Gospel had gleamed from the 
 cross" ? And what can be said of the place of the Nativity? 
 
 So to the Holy Land she went and left her son behind in Rome 
 to grow up a staunch heathen. If in later life he became a 
 Christian (a point not certain), he did not owe his conversion to 
 his mother. Paula sailed away, passed between Scylla and 
 Chary bdis, and threaded Virgil's Cyclades 
 
 sparsasque per aequor 
 Cycladas, et crebris...freta consita terns 2 . 
 
 At last she reached Antioch, and "the noble lady, who had 
 once been borne on the hands of eunuchs, set out on a donkey." 
 
 1 This is printed among St Jerome's letters, Ep. xlvi. 
 
 2 Jerome quotes the Aeneid iii. 126. When the Angel with the scourge told 
 him " Ciceroniamis es, non Christianus," nothing luckily was said about Virgil 
 (Ep. xxii. 30). See Comparetti, Vergil in the Middle Ages, tr. pp. 823 for the 
 saint's fluctuation in his feelings about the poet. In the short account of the 
 travels which follows, I have made a mosaic of pieces from Ep. cviii. especially 
 7, 8, 9, 14, 15.
 
 Women Pilgrims 133 
 
 Sarepta and Elijah's tower, the sands of Tyre where Paul had knelt, 
 Megiddo, Caesarea and the house of Cornelius and the rooms where 
 Philip's four daughters slept, Joppa whence Jonah sailed and where 
 (though this is another story 1 ) Andromeda was tied to the rock, 
 Beth-horon, Aijalon, Gibeon, all these and other places she saw, 
 and came to Jerusalem, where "prostrating herself before the cross, 
 she worshipped as though she saw the Lord hanging there." "She 
 entered the tomb of resurrection, and kissed the stone the angel 
 rolled away ; and the actual place where the Lord had lain, as one 
 thirsty coming to waters long prayed for, she licked with a believer's 
 mouth." She ranged over Palestine, passed through Egypt to the 
 Nitrian desert and threw herself at the feet of the monks, to whom 
 she gave gifts as to the Lord. Though she would have liked to 
 stay with them, she returned to Bethlehem to build cells and 
 lodgings for pilgrims by the road where Mary and Joseph found 
 no shelter. This was her rest because it was the birthplace of 
 her Lord. Here she continued till her death, reading the Bible in 
 Hebrew and Greek, afflicting herself with various austerities, and 
 doing despite to the face which, against God's precept, she had 
 formerly decorated with all sorts of cosmetics. It was her prayer 
 that she might die a beggar, and at last she attained what she 
 wished and left her daughter deeply in debt, "as she still is, though 
 she hopes, not by her own strength, but of Christ's mercy, to be 
 able to pay." 
 
 When we pass from Paula to Silvia, there is a marked relaxation 
 of tension. We are out of the region of extravagance and hysterics, 
 and in the company of a lady who is quiet and has no rhetoric. It 
 must be premised, however, that we are on less certain ground, for 
 it may be that we are dealing not with a single person but with two. 
 The case stands thus. There exists a considerable part of a narrative 
 of three years' residence and travel in and about Palestine. It is 
 avowedly written by a woman, seemingly from Gaul, for she comes 
 "from the ends of the earth," she compares the Euphrates and the 
 wash of its waters with the Rhone, the Red Sea with the Ocean, and 
 its fish with those of the "Italic sea." She held some office in a 
 monastery, to the sisters of which she wrote ; her journey ended in 
 Constantinople where she was detained for some unspecified reason ; 
 
 1 Ut aliquid perstringam de fabulis poetarum says Jerome. See Dr G. A. 
 Smith, Hist. Geography of the Holy Land, pp. 162 4, on the linking of Andro- 
 meda's dragon to St George, and of St George to England, the whole story 
 centring at Lydda a little way up the country.
 
 134 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 and the courtesy and attention shewn her by military authorities in 
 Egypt suggest that she was a person of some consideration. In view 
 of all these facts Gamurrini, who discovered the manuscript in 1884, 
 identified her with St Silvia of Aquitaine, who was in the East at 
 the very same time as our pilgrim shews that she was, and whose 
 brother was Rufinus, minister of the Emperors Theodosius and 
 Arcadius at Constantinople from 384 to 396. When this man was 
 murdered in 396, his widow and daughter were despatched to 
 Jerusalem. Such a connexion would explain the ease of our 
 pilgrim's travels and her lingering at the capital. The identification 
 has been generally accepted, though Dr Bernard points out a curious 
 little divergency. The pilgrim of the manuscript remarks that 
 because it was impossible to ride up Mt Sinai, she had to go up on 
 foot (MS p. 32), but the St Silvia of PaHadius boasted she never was 
 carried. Again, this Silvia, he says, never bathed, but our pilgrim 
 does not betray personal asceticism. We may also remark that 
 while the Silvia of Palladius was "a most learned lady," and read 
 Origen and Basil and so forth, and while for her Rufinus of Aquileia 1 
 made a translation into Latin of the Clementine Recognitions, our 
 pilgrim, though very well read in Scripture 2 and well informed in 
 sacred geography and much interested in ritual, wrote a Latin so 
 barbarous and so ungainly as to suggest that her literary attain- 
 ments were slight indeed. Accordingly, if we agree that our pilgrim 
 is St Silvia, we must bear in mind that her own narrative deals only 
 with her travels in the East where we find her first at the foot of 
 Sinai, and that all other knowledge of her connexions and subsequent 
 history comes from outside sources. 
 
 Aquitaine was in the fourth century, and indeed later, one of 
 the most cultured and most Roman of all lands of the Empire. 
 The names of Ausonius and Sulpicius Severus stand for much in 
 the history of the century's literature, and a brightness and a clear 
 air hang over their country. From Elusa (Eauze), the poet Claudian 
 tells us, came Rufinus and therefore presumably his sister. Of her 
 early life we know nothing, but if we trust Palladius she was born 
 somewhere about the date of the Nicene Council 325, for she says 
 (according to him) that she was in her sixtieth year when travelling 
 in Egypt. She herself tells us why she took her pilgrimage to 
 
 1 Not her brother, but a man set over a convent of fifty virgins established 
 by Melania in Jerusalem. 
 
 2 It may be remarked that she shews no trace of Jerome's revision of the 
 Latin Bible. So Dr Bernard on St Silvia, p. 34.
 
 Women Pilgrims 135 
 
 Palestine. She went to pray (orationis gratia, pp. 44, 47, 55) at 
 the bidding of God (jubente deo, p. 40), and also to learn for herself 
 (tune ergo ego, ut sum satis curiosa, requirere cepi, p. 46). She 
 regarded it as a mark of divine grace that she was able to go so far 
 and see so much "though I ought ever to give thanks to God in 
 all things, I will not say how much in the case of all that He has 
 bestowed on me in counting me worthy, unworthy and undeserving 
 as I am, to travel through all these places far beyond my merit" 
 (p. 36). On the way home, she says, "I crossed the sea to 
 Constantinople thanking Christ our God that to me unworthy and 
 undeserving He had deigned to give such grace, that is, not only 
 the will to go, but had deigned to give the power to traverse what 
 I would and to return again to Constantinople" (p. 55). 
 
 The record of her outward journey is lost, if it ever existed, but 
 our last reference may give us a hint. There were various possible 
 routes from Aquitaine to Palestine. Sulpicius Severus' friend, 
 Postumian, sailed from Narbonne to Africa, visiting Cyprian's grave 
 at Carthage, and from there to Alexandria. The first sail took him 
 four to five days, the second longer, for they had to land somewhere 
 on the coast under stress of weather, and from there they had a 
 voyage of seven days. Thence to Jerome at Bethlehem and back, 
 and then to the Nitria and Sinai. But Silvia's expressions 1 and her 
 account of her visits to all the churches and shrines of Constanti- 
 nople on her return, shew that it had been her starting-point for 
 her eastern journey. 
 
 While of course she could have gone to Constantinople by sea, 
 it is interesting to note that another pilgrim from her country has 
 left us a record of his long overland route from Bordeaux to Jeru- 
 salem. Who he was is not known, but he dates his pilgrimage by 
 the consuls of 333, and gives the name of every stopping-place on 
 his way and occasional summaries of distances in miles in leagues 
 from Bordeaux to Toulouse 2 . He passed through Silvia's town of 
 Elusa, and she may have followed his route this of course is mere 
 conjecture. Picking out the points at which he adds up his miles, 
 we find he went by Aries, Milan, Aquileia, Sirmium (Mitrowitza), 
 Serdica (Sophia) and so to Constantinople, and he reckons that so 
 far he travelled 2221 miles, and made 112 halts. 
 
 The route from Constantinople was by Libyssa (where, confusing 
 
 1 Of. pp. 47, 55. 
 
 2 An interesting survival. In parts of French Canada the habitants still 
 reckon by lieues.
 
 136 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Rome's greatest foe and the Emperor's brother, he notes " Here lies 
 King Annibalianus who once was King of the Africans"), Nico- 
 medeia, Nicaea (no word of the Council of eight years before), the 
 farm of Pampatus ("whence come the horses for the magistrates"), 
 Tyana ("hence was Appollonius (sic) the Magician"), Tarsus ("hence 
 was the apostle Paul"), through Cilicia to Antioch, and so by Tyre 
 and Caesarea to Jerusalem. He travelled, according to Professor 
 Ramsay 1 , mainly along the military road used by the Byzantine 
 armies to reach Syria from Constantinople. Silvia tells us (p. 55) 
 that she returned to Constantinople faciens iter jam notum either 
 a route already "described to you" or "familiar to me" through 
 the provinces of Cilicia, Cappadocia, Galatia and Bithynia, and the 
 towns she mentions are Antioch, Tarsus, Mopsucrene (which with 
 the Bordeaux pilgrim she calls Mansocrenae) and Chalcedon. All 
 these names occur in reverse order in the Itinerary .* It is therefore 
 likely that she followed in the main the older pilgrim's course. 
 On her way back she made a deviation to see St Thecla's martyry 
 a three days' journey from Tarsus by Pompeiopolis (Soli) and 
 Corycus to Seleucia in Isauria, so that she may have made similar 
 excursions on her way out. The Bordeaux pilgrim reckons 1159 
 miles and 58 stopping-places between Constantinople and Jerusalem. 
 The journey there and back took him seven months in all. He 
 left Chalcedon on May 30 and was back in Constantinople on 
 December 26. 
 
 Her journal (if one may so call it) was written apparently for 
 sister nuns in Aquitaine, whom she addressed in affectionate terms 
 "ladies of my soul," "ladies, my light," "your affection 2 /' 
 "venerable lady sisters." It would seem to have been put into its 
 present form after her return to Constantinople, but from records 
 previously made by her. Sir Charles Wilson, who describes her 
 geography of Sinai as minute and correct, concludes " I have been 
 much struck by the accuracy of St Silvia's topographical descrip- 
 tions; they are evidently those of a person who has seen the places 
 described, and have apparently been compiled from notes written on 
 the ground." If her geography is accurate, her grammar is not, 
 and her style abounds in repetitions and awkward constructions, to 
 
 1 See note to Bordeaux Itinerary, in the Palestine Pilgrims Society's texts. 
 
 2 Cf. p. 56, domnae lumen meum cum haec ad vest-ram qffectionem darem. 
 This is partly convention. Symmachus addresses his son as aiitabilitax rentra 
 (Epp, vii. 3, 6, etc.) and his daughter as domna filia (vi. 80); Ausonius, his old 
 friend, the professor and prefect, as eruditio ttia (i. 31).
 
 Women Pilgrims 137 
 
 say nothing of peculiar spellings, which shew a Latin wearing down 
 towards French. 
 
 After so long a preface, it will be best to transcribe at length a 
 passage, illustrative at once of the Saint's methods of grammar and 
 travel and thought. It comes from the opening of what is left of 
 her narrative and describes her visit to Sinai. 
 
 " We then entered the Mount late on the Sabbath (= Saturday), 
 and coming to certain cells the monks who dwelt there received us 
 there quite kindly, shewing us every kindness. For there is also a 
 church there with a presbyter. There then we abode that night, 
 and thence rather early on the Lord's day, with the presbyter 
 himself and the monks, who dwelt there, we undertook the ascent 
 of the several mountains, which mountains are climbed with infinite 
 toil ; since you do not go up slowly and slowly in a circle, spirally 
 as we say, but you go up straight as if up a wall, and it is necessary 
 that the descent of the several mountains be made straight down, 
 until you come to the real foot of the middle (mountain), which is 
 Syna in particular. Accordingly therefore, at the bidding of Christ 
 our God, and helped by the prayers of the holy men who accom- 
 panied me, and even so with great toil, because I had to go up on 
 foot (because the ascent cannot be made at all on saddle) yet the 
 toil itself was not felt. The toil was not felt for the reason that 
 I saw the desire, which at God's bidding I had, being fulfilled. At 
 the fourth hour then we reached the summit of Syna, God's holy 
 mount, where the law was given, in the place, that is, where the 
 majesty of the Lord descended on the day when the mount smoked. 
 In that place then there is now a church, not large, since the place 
 itself, i.e. the summit of the mount, is not sufficiently large, a church 
 however which of itself has great grace. When then at God's 
 bidding we had got up to the very summit and had reached the 
 door of the church itself, lo! there met us the presbyter coming 
 [p. 33] from his cell, a man set apart to that very church, a sound 
 old man and a monk from earliest life, and, as they say here, an 
 ascetic, and in a word such a man as is worthy to be in such a place. 
 There also met us other presbyters, and in fact all the monks who 
 dwelt there by the mount, that is, all who were not prevented by 
 weakness or age. But indeed on the very summit of that middle 
 mountain no one lives. For there is nothing else there save only 
 the church and the cave, where the holy Moses was. When the 
 passage in the book of Moses had been read and the oblation had 
 been duly made, ourselves too communicating, as we were now
 
 138 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 leaving the church, the presbyters gave us the blessings of the spot 
 itself, that is of apples which grow on the mount itself. For 
 although the holy mount Syna itself is all of rock so as to have no 
 herbage, yet below at the foot of the mountains themselves, i.e. either 
 round the foot of that which is in the middle, or round about that 
 of those in the circle, there is a little soil. At once the holy monks 
 of their diligence plant little trees and arrange little orchards or 
 fields and hard by cells for themselves, just as if they were deriving 
 fruit from the earth of the mount itself ; which however they seem 
 to have wrought with their own hands. And so after we had 
 communicated and the holy men had given us blessings and we had 
 gone outside the door of the church, then I began to ask them to 
 shew us the several places. Then at once those holy men conde- 
 scended to shew us the places. For they shewed us the cave where 
 the holy Moses was, when for the second time he had ascended up 
 into the mount of God in order to receive the tables anew, after he 
 had broken the former in consequence of the people's sin ; and all 
 the other spots we wished, or they themselves were better acquainted 
 with, they condescended to shew us. I wish you to know, venerable 
 lady sisters, that from the spot where we stood, that is around the 
 walls of the church, i.e. from the summit of the middle mountain, so 
 far below us did those mountains, which we had climbed at first, 
 seem beside that middle one, on which we stood, as if they were 
 hillocks. Yet they were so unending, that I thought I had never 
 seen higher, except that this middle one far excelled them. Egypt 
 and Palestine and the Red Sea and that Parthenic Sea which leads 
 to Alexandria, and moreover the endless frontiers of the Saracens 
 we saw thence, so far below as to be hardly credible. All these 
 several things those holy men pointed out to us. 
 
 " When then all our desire, for which we had hastened [p. 34] 
 to ascend, was satisfied, we now began to descend from the actual 
 summit of the mountain of God, unto which we had ascended, into 
 another mountain which is joined to it ; which place is called 
 Horeb ; for there is a church there. For this is the place Horeb 
 where the holy prophet Elias was, when he fled from the face of 
 Ahab, when God spoke to him saying "What doest thou here Elias?" 
 as is written in the Book of the Kingdoms. For the cave too, where 
 the holy Elias lay hid, is shewn there to this day before the door of 
 the church which is there. There is also shewn there the altar of 
 stone, which the holy Elias placed to offer to God, as those holy 
 men too deigned to shew us the several things. We therefore made
 
 Women Pilgrims 139 
 
 the oblation and a very earnest prayer, and the passage itself from 
 the Book of the Kingdoms was read : for that had been my chief 
 desire for us always, that wherever we came, the very passage should 
 always be read from the book. When therefore our offering was 
 made there too, we came afresh to another spot, the presbyters and 
 monks shewing it to us not far away from there, that is to the spot 
 where the holy Aaron had stood with the seventy elders, when the 
 holy Moses received from the Lord the law for the children of Israel. 
 In that place then although there is not a house, there is yet a great 
 rock with level ground around it above, on which the holy men 
 themselves are said to have stood: for it has also there in the 
 middle as it were an altar made of stones. There too accordingly 
 the passage itself from the book of Moses was read and one psalm 
 said, suitable to the place ; and so after prayer we descended 
 thence. 
 
 " And behold now it began to be about the eighth hour, and still 
 there were three miles for us to quit the mountains themselves, 
 which we had entered at evening on the previous day : but we had 
 not to go out by the same part as we had entered by (as I said 
 above), because it was necessary for us both to walk round all the 
 holy places and to see whatever cells there were there, and so to 
 come out to the end of the valley that lies below the mountain of 
 God. It was necessary for us to go out to the end of the valley 
 itself, since there were there very many cells of holy men and a 
 church in that place where the bush is : which bush lives till this 
 day and sends forth twigs. Accordingly therefore when we had 
 descended the mount of God, we reached the bush at perhaps the 
 tenth hour. This is the bush, which I mentioned above, from which 
 the Lord spoke to Moses in fire, and it is in this place, where there 
 are many cells and a church at the end of the valley itself. In 
 front of the church itself there is a very pleasant garden [p. 35] 
 with an excellent and plenteous spring, in which garden the bush 
 itself is. The place too is shewn hard by there, where the holy 
 Moses stood, when God said to him "Loose the latchet of thy shoe" 
 and so forth. When then we had come to this place, it was already 
 the tenth hour, and because it was evening we could not make the 
 oblation. But prayer was made in the church, and in the garden 
 too at the bush. Moreover the passage itself from the book of 
 Moses was read according to custom, and so because it was evening 
 we supped there before the bush with the holy men themselves. 
 Accordingly therefore we abode there. And on the next day
 
 140 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 waking rather early we asked the presbyters that the oblation might 
 be made there too, as was also done." 
 
 No one after all this will be surprised to learn that Silvia saw 
 a monolith with figures of Moses and Aaron, gratefully erected by 
 the Israelites as they left Egypt. Yet not a word do we hear of the 
 hardships and peril of the journey. It is only incidentally we learn 
 that she had been outside the frontier of the Empire and needed a 
 guard. Officers with soldiers escorted her from fort to fort till she 
 reached a place called Arabia. "Here we sent back the soldiers, 
 who had according to the Roman military system given us protection 
 as long as we walked through suspected places." She lightly 
 sketches the rest of the journey, and the stages by which she 
 returned "to Aelia, that is, to Jerusalem 1 ." 
 
 This was not her first visit there, as indeed we should have 
 judged from her route. She made it for three years a centre for 
 her archaeological expeditions, and though she gives us a very long 
 and full account of the Christian year, as there celebrated, she does 
 not (in the part of her story surviving) tell us much about the 
 famous places and churches and relics of the city, except as they 
 concern church practice. The special point that most pleased her 
 in this was the appropriateness of the service and lessons of each 
 day to the day. This was a novelty to a Christian from Gaul, and 
 was only introduced into the Gallican churches in the fifth century 
 by Musaeus, a presbyter of Marseilles 2 . 
 
 Many wonderful relics she saw the column at which our Lord 
 was scourged and the horn used in anointing the Jewish kings 
 but many more she did not see, for the marvels were not all dis- 
 covered at once. Two centuries later, pilgrims had the privilege 
 of seeing the crown of thorns, the spear, the sponge and reed, the 
 cup used at the last supper and the charger that received John the 
 Baptist's head. But she saw what the Bordeaux pilgrim did not 
 see the Cross. 
 
 Now this is a wonderful story and a digression may be forgiven. 
 Everybody knows Helena found the Cross. It was found, says Cyril 
 of Jerusalem, in Constantine's reign 3 , and Constantine died in 337. 
 
 1 To find Jerusalem still called Aelia after three hundred years is very 
 interesting. Ammianus Marcellinus about this time alludes to another town 
 far in the West "Augusta, formerly known as London." 
 
 2 So Dr Bernard on St Silvia, p. 73, in the Palestine Pilgrims Society's text. 
 
 3 Cyril Jer. Ep. 3. Cyril died in 38fr. This letter is said to be early, and a 
 sermon (Catech. iv. 10) quoted in the same connexion is set down to 347. If 
 this date is right, the silence of Eusebius is the more impressive.
 
 Women Pilgrims 141 
 
 Helena died in 328, so, if she found it, why did not the Bordeaux 
 pilgrim know of it ? He knows a great deal and saw a great deal, 
 but is silent about the most remarkable thing of all And why is 
 Eusebius silent? He only says that "the solemn and all-holy 
 martyrion (token?) of the saving resurrection appeared, though 
 beyond all expectation 1 ." These two authorities are of great im- 
 portance, and not at all outweighed by any unanimity of post- 
 Cyrillian writers. But there is a curious cross-current to be 
 considered. One of the most interesting of Syriac documents 
 relative to the early church is The Doctrine of Addai. Its date or 
 dates scholars fix differently, but Dr Wright puts it down in its 
 present form to the second half of the fourth century 2 . Its main 
 theme is Addai, the apostle Thaddaeus, sent by our Lord to heal 
 King Abgar of Edessa. Incidentally Addai tells the story of the 
 Invention of the Cross, not by Helena, but by "Protonice, the wife 
 of the Emperor Claudius, whom Tiberius made second in his 
 kingdom, when he went to make war with the Spaniards who had 
 rebelled against him." Need it be said that each new fact makes 
 the story more astounding ? Protonice with two sons and a daughter 
 stayed with Herod in Jerusalem, and at the request of the apostle 
 James commanded the Jews to inform her where the cross was. It 
 was in the grave with the crosses of the two thieves. Happily, her 
 daughter fell down dead, and the brilliant thought of her elder son 
 at once restored his sister to life and discovered the True Cross. We 
 shall probably never know who the real discoverer was, and perhaps 
 it is better that Helena should not be robbed of such renown as the 
 story gives her 3 . At all events Silvia had no doubt she had seen 
 the True Cross. 
 
 Another of her excursions was to Mt Nebo 4 , and on her way she 
 saw Moses' traditional tomb his sepulchre having been discovered, 
 though "no man knoweth his sepulture." More interesting still, 
 she saw the place that bore the name of Lot's wife (where of course 
 they read the passage in Scripture); "but believe me, venerable 
 ladies, the pillar itself is not to be seen, bat the place alone is 
 shewn; but the pillar itself is said to have been covered by the 
 
 1 Eusebius, Vita Constantini iii. 28. 'Token' is Dr Bright's rendering, and 
 he refers it to the Holy Sepulchre. Eusebius lived in intimacy with Constantine 
 and must have known it, if the Cross had really been found. 
 
 2 Syriac Literature, p. 43. 
 
 3 See Dr Abbott's Philomythus, c. vii. 30, 31 for an interesting discussion 
 of the Invention of the Cross and Cardinal Newman's handling of the evidence. 
 
 4 Peregrinatio Silviae, pp. 40 44.
 
 142 Life and Letters in tJie Fourth Century 
 
 Dead Sea. Certainly though we saw the place, we saw no pillar, 
 so I cannot deceive you about this. For the bishop of the place, that 
 is, of Segor [Zoar], said to us that it was now some years since the 
 pillar had been seen. For Segor is about six miles from the place 
 where the pillar stood, which is now entirely covered by water." This 
 was a distinct loss. However Theodosius (about 530 A.D.) says it is 
 there and it waxes and wanes with the moon, and Antoninus (about 
 570) says it is not true that it is being wasted away by cattle 
 licking it, but it stands as it was. A pillar about five feet high is 
 still shewn. 
 
 After one more expedition to see Job's tomb, she tells us her 
 mind turned toward home, but on her way she wished to see Edessa, 
 where were the martyry of St Thomas and the authentic letter our 
 Lord wrote to King Abgar. This story of Abgar is one of the most 
 firmly asserted of early traditions. Abgar was the name of the 
 princes of Edessa from the days of Pompey till the end of the second 
 century, and the tale of our Lord's letter is given by Eusebius, who 
 translates from the Syriac a part of the Doctrine of Addai, in a 
 form however differing from the present Syriac text, which expressly 
 says that our Lord sent a verbal message, and that Hannan, the keeper 
 of the archives, afterwards wrote it down. Still our Lord's reputed 
 autograph and His promise that Edessa should be inviolable had 
 already, so Edessan historians declared, saved the city at least once 
 from capture by the Persians 1 . As to St Thomas, it was he who 
 had actually given Addai his orders to go to Edessa, and St Ephraem 
 in one of his hymns tells us that St Thomas' bones had recently 
 been brought from India to Mesopotamia by a merchant, " who was 
 in truth a merchant 2 ." 
 
 So to Mesopotamia Silvia went and saw the martyry and read 
 there the Acts of Thomas, that most wonderful collection of the 
 Apocrypha or at least some of them, aliquanta ipsitis sancti 
 Thomae 3 . She was kindly received by the bishops of Mesopotamia, 
 
 1 See Phillips, Doctrine of Addai, pp. Jl and 5 ; W. Wright, Chronicle of 
 Joshua the Stylite, chapter 60, where Joshua (writing about 507 A.D.) speaks of 
 our Lord's promise that Edessa should never be captured being once more 
 fulfilled when Kawad was driven off in 502 3 (814 of the Greeks) ; and Cureton, 
 Ancient Syriac Documents, p. 152, and the authorities there quoted, Procopius, 
 Evagrius, etc. Cureton alludes finally to the existence in England down to his 
 own memory of a practice of keeping a copy of this letter of our Lord as a 
 phylactery. 
 
 2 Carm. Nisibena, 42. 
 
 3 "The tale of Thomas the Apostle is a sea that cannot be exhausted," said 
 Jacob of Serug. A better authority is Mr Burkitt's interesting book on Early 
 Christianity outside the Roman Empire.
 
 Women Pilgrims 143 
 
 as her long journey "from the ends of the earth" deserved, and she 
 was shewn perhaps the very letter of our Lord, or at least a true 
 copy of it. (It depends on the pronoun ipse, which has hardly its 
 classical meaning in Silvia.) She writes that on her return her 
 correspondents shall see her copy of it. She says nothing about the 
 picture of Christ, which Abgar was supposed to have had. 
 
 She went on to Carrhae (Haran), and as Nisibis was inaccessible, 
 having been held since 363 by the Persians, she had the happy inspira- 
 tion to go and see the place where Jacob kissed Rachel, or rather, 
 to quote her correctly, where he watered Rachel's flocks. They read 
 there the passage from Genesis and a suitable psalm (was it the 
 forty-fifth ?) and saw the well and the great stone and the inevitable 
 church And so to Antioch and across Asia Minor to Constantinople, 
 where her story ends with the anticipation of visiting Ephesus "on 
 account of the martyry of the holy and blessed John and to pray." 
 
 We hear of her again a year or two after 400 from a letter of 
 Paulinus to Sulpicius. He cannot himself spare "a grain of sacred 
 ash" to Sulpicius' envoy Victor, who is in search of relics, "but 
 Victor says he has abundant hopes of such a favour from the holy 
 Silvia, who has promised him some relics of many martyrs of the 
 East 1 ." Elsewhere we learn she died at Brixia (Brescia) and left 
 her sacred treasures to the bishop of the town, Gaudentius. Her 
 memory is still celebrated there on Dec. 15. 
 
 So far we have followed the course of three women pilgrims, and 
 it will easily be believed in what numbers both men and women 
 flocked to Palestine. As Paula says, "The chief men in Gaul hasten 
 hither; the Briton, remote from our world, if he advance in the 
 faith, forsakes the setting sun and seeks the spot he knows by fame 
 and from the Scriptures. What shall we say of Armenians, of 
 Persians, of the tribes of India and Ethiopia, of Egypt herself hard 
 by, so rich in monks, of Pontus and Cappadocia, of Coele-Syria and 
 Mesopotamia and all the swarms (examina) of the East ? They all 
 hasten to these places and shew divers types of virtues 2 ." Chrysostom 
 more than once speaks of the world coming together to the manger, 
 and tells of many taking a long journey over the sea from the ends 
 of the earth to Arabia to see Job's dunghill 3 . It seems however 
 
 1 Paulinus, Ep. 31. 1. 
 
 2 Among Jerome's letters, Ep. xlvi. 10. 
 
 3 Homily 5 De Statuis, p. 69 Migne, diet TOVTO iro\\ol vvv /j-axpav riva xal 
 diaTrbvTiov diro8i)[ji.iai> (TrAXcwTcu diro TUV weparuv rr/s yrjs 's TTJV 'Apafiiav rp^xovres 
 Iva. TT)I> Ko-n-piav eKeivrjv idwffi, and they derive from the sight iratrav &<t>t\eiai> Kal
 
 144 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 that this concourse of strange races in Jerusalem and Bethlehem 
 was not free from those attendant evils which mark similar mixtures 
 in other places. Gregory of Nyssa visited Jerusalem about 380, 
 that is just about the same time as our pilgrims, and his conclusion 
 was that the effect of the pilgrimages was evil and not good. He 
 was disturbed by the dangers to the fame and character of women, 
 pilgrims though they might be, in the profligate cities of the East. 
 Of Jerusalem itself he writes: "There is no species of impurity 
 that is not dared therein flagitious actions and adulteries and 
 thefts, idolatries and witchcrafts and envyings and murders ; and 
 this last evil, above others, is so common in that place, that nowhere 
 else is there such a readiness to commit murder as in those places 1 ." 
 Even Jerome, the great advocate of pilgrimage, has to confess (about 
 394) that "if the sites of the Cross and Resurrection were not in a 
 crowded city, where is a curia, a garrison, harlots, actors, jesters and 
 everything there is in any other city; or if its only crowds were 
 monks, then indeed it were a desirable abode for all monks 2 ." 
 Quite apart from the fact that many of the pilgrims attributed more 
 value to the actual pilgrimage than to any spiritual impulse or 
 impression connected with it, even for the more spiritually minded 
 there was (and is always) a danger in religious excitement, as tending 
 to supersede the moral standard. That contemporary criticism was 
 not wanting is seen from Jerome's ferocious and filthy attack on 
 Vigilantius, who had dared "to call us who stand for relics, ash-men 
 and idolaters, worshippers of dead men's bones 3 ." There were also 
 bishops, who gently deprecated pilgrimages, but on the whole 
 without much success. 
 
 But was there not, in spite of Jerome, an alternative type of 
 Christian life for woman? Though ecclesiastics do not as a rule 
 emphasize it, we find there was. Two instances may fitly close this 
 essay. 
 
 There exists a curious little poem, dating from the middle of the 
 fourth century, which generally bears the name of Faltonia Proba, 
 and is therefore attributed to the granddaughter of the Roman lady 
 who, it seems, actually wrote it. Proba, the real authoress, was the 
 wife of Clodius Celsinus Adelphius, who was Prefect of Rome for 
 
 1 Gregory of Nyssa, Ep. ad Eustathium, 6 13. 
 
 2 Jerome, Ep. Iviii. 4. Letter cxlviii. deals with a scandal, which occurred at 
 Bethlehem almost under his own eyes. Even the gatherings on a smaller scale 
 at Nola were marked by drunkenness and disorder, see Paulinus, Natal. 9. 546 f. 
 Also Augustine, Con/, vi. 2, 2. 
 
 3 Jerome, Ep. cix. 1 cinerarias et idololatras, qui mortuorum hominum ossa 
 veneremur.
 
 Women Pilgrims 145 
 
 half the year 35 1 1 . Her grandfather, her father, her brother, her 
 son and many more of her male relatives held the office of consul, 
 and her nephew Petronius Probus, who married her granddaughter 
 Faltonia, was one of the greatest and richest men of his day. So 
 Proba belonged to a family of the very highest repute and dignity. 
 She had at least two sons, and was able to combine with her duties 
 as wife and mother a close study of Virgil. Her surviving poem is 
 a sort of epitome of Old Testament and Gospel history composed 
 of lines and half lines from her poet, and very ingenious it is. 
 Comparetti is no doubt right in pronouncing such work childish 
 after all, though it was then regarded as glorifying the poet who 
 was used as a quarry. 
 
 Proba's prologue tells of former attempts on a different theme, 
 though she does not say whether they were in the same style. 
 "Long since of chiefs who brake the gentle bonds of peace, moved, 
 unhappy men ! by dire lust to reign, of mutual slaughter and the 
 cruel wars of kings, of armies of one race and fair shields stained 
 with parents' blood, and trophies won but not from foemen, of blood- 
 besprinkled triumphs that fame proclaims, and of cities so oft 
 widowed of so many a citizen, I have written, I confess." But now 
 "I will shew that Virgil sang the gentle gifts of Christ." And 
 so forth for nearly seven hundred lines, one half dealing with 
 Genesis and Exodus, and the second a harmony of the Gospels and 
 of Virgil. She concludes with a gentle address to her husband, from 
 which some have supposed he was not at first a Christian. "Of 
 your grace, my friends, keep this way of worship: hold this thyself, 
 my sweet spouse, and if our piety deserve, may all our grandsons 
 hold the faith." At times she is hard put to it to match Virgil 
 with Scripture 2 , but the passages I have translated run smoothly 
 enough, patchwork as they are. 
 
 Perhaps Proba was in his mind, when Jerome angrily wrote 
 "The art of interpreting Scripture is the one all claim. Scribimus 
 indocti doctique poemata passim. This the garrulous old woman, 
 the drivelling dotard etc. lay claim to, mutilate, and teach before 
 they learn... As if we have not read the centos from Homer and 
 
 1 Boissier, La Fin du Paganisme, ii. 244; Gregorovius, Rome in the Middle 
 Ages, tr. i. 97, and Comparetti, Vergil in the Middle Ages, tr. p. 54, give the 
 poem to Faltonia, the two latter avowedly following Aschbach. But Seeck, 
 Symmachus, Intr. p. xc. , and Schenkl on Proba in the Vienna Corpus of Latin 
 Ecclesiastical Writers, vol. xvi. p. 514, make it clear that this is wrong and that 
 the grandmother is the authoress. 
 
 2 Cf. the creation of Eve; Quaeritur hide alius; nee quisquam ex agmine 
 tanto | audet adire virum (Aen. v. 378 the boxing match). 
 
 G. 10
 
 146 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Virgil, and could not say Virgil was a Christian before Christ, 
 when he wrote Jam redit et mrgo etc.... This is puerile 1 ." Yet 
 Proba found a place by her poem in at least one list of the Church's 
 famous men, a solitary woman among them, because, as Isidore says, 
 she sang the praise of Christ, "and if we do not admire her conception, 
 we praise her ingenuity, and her work is still read among the 
 apocryphal writings 3 ." Thither Pope Gelasius relegated it by a 
 decree between 492 and 496, and so it continued to be read through 
 the Middle Ages. 
 
 But if to-day we do not read her poem, we have another and 
 perhaps a tenderer memorial of her, which may well seem to outweigh 
 the rhetorical laudation Jerome lavished on a Paula or a Eustochium. 
 Among the Latin inscriptions is one, which at her death her husband 
 had inscribed upon her tomb, which was also to be his. 
 
 CLODIVS ADELFIVS V C EX PRAEFECTIS VRBIS VXORI INCOMPARABILI 
 ET SIBI. 
 
 (Clodius Adelphius Vir Clarissimus [his rank] Ex- Prefect of the 
 City, to his incomparable wife and himself 3 .) 
 
 Of Monnica, the mother of St Augustine, much has been written 
 and but few words need be given to her here. From her son's 
 writings we can piece her life together. A German critic has 
 suggested that perhaps she was not throughout an ideal mother 
 in every way, but at least she was always motherly. She, like 
 her son, grew in grace and knowledge and rose with time to higher 
 planes of thought and vision. She was early trained to sobriety 
 and piety by an old Christian slave 4 . When it fell to her lot to be 
 married, she was given to a husband, who if kindly was very quick- 
 tempered, yet such was her tact that she never had a blow from 
 him and they never quarrelled. Over her son she watched and 
 prayed and wept to win him for Christ. At times she would have 
 despaired, but now a vision told her she should "see him standing 
 where she stood," and now a bishop with a splendid instinct told 
 her "it was impossible that the son of those tears could be lost" 
 and the words came to her as a voice from heaven. When the son 
 deceived her by going away from her to Rome, "after accusing my 
 treachery and cruelty she turned once more to pray for me." She 
 followed him to Milan and underwent a storm on her voyage, but in 
 
 1 Ep. liii. 7. Tertullian, Praescr. Haeret. 39 on earlier centos. 
 
 2 Isidore, de Vir. ill. 22 (18). 
 
 3 Corpus Inscr. Latin, vi. 1712. 
 
 4 Cow/, ix. 89, 1720, etc.
 
 Women Pilgrims 147 
 
 inversion of the natural order she comforted the sailors by telling of a 
 vision, in which she had learnt they would arrive safely. It was, she 
 told her son, her firm faith in Christ that she should not leave this 
 life till she saw him a faithful Catholic. And when her dream was 
 realized and he went with the small circle of friends to Cassisiacum 
 to spend the few months before baptism in thought and discussion, 
 she went with him, and her part in the dialogues held there is 
 no mean one. From time to time she joins in aptly, with a happy 
 anticipation of some philosophical conclusion, with a witty phrase 
 that caps a process of reasoning, or a line from a hymn of Ambrose 
 which is the conclusion of the whole matter 1 . The wonderful 
 scene at Ostia, where mother and son held spiritual communion and 
 in swift thought touched on that Eternal Wisdom, which abideth 
 over all, and had reached for a moment the contemplation of God 
 which is "the joy of the Lord," must be read in Augustine's own 
 words 2 . 
 
 Neither Monnica nor (so far as we know) Proba ever went on a 
 pilgrimage. The common duties of domestic cheerfulness, peace- 
 making and love sufficed them. We may contrast with Melania's 
 relinquishment of her son to the Praetor and Paula's neglect which 
 left Toxotius to grow up a pagan, the mother's feeling which glows 
 through Proba's quaint mosaic and still more the very significant 
 words of Augustine 3 . He is telling of the spiritual awakening 
 he felt for the first time in his life when he read Cicero's 
 Hortensius. 
 
 "And since at that time (Thou knowest, light of my heart) 
 the apostolic writings were not known to me, I was delighted with 
 that exhortation so far only as to seek and pursue and hold and 
 embrace not this or that sect but Wisdom herself, whatever she 
 were ; I was wakened and kindled and enflamed by the dialogue ; 
 and yet this alone checked me in aD my enthusiasm, that the 
 name of Christ was not there ; for this name, according to Thy 
 mercy, Lord, the name of my Saviour, Thy Son, even with my 
 mother's milk my heart devoutly drank in and deeply treasured ; 
 and whatever lacked this name, however learned, exquisite or true 
 it might be, it took not entire hold of me." 
 
 1 See dialogue de Beata Vita. Note his high opinion of woman: Con/, xiii. 
 32, 47 feminam quae haberet quidem in mente rationalis intelligentiae parem 
 natnram. 
 
 2 Con/, ix. 1011, 2328. 
 
 3 Confessions iii. 4, 8; cf. also i. 11, 17 on the contest between maternal and 
 paternal influence. Also de B. V. 6 nostra mater cujus meriti credo esse omne 
 quod vivo. 
 
 102
 
 CHAPTEE VII 
 
 SYMMACHUS 
 
 ...Et in vetustatem perducens superbos et nesciunt... 
 
 AUGUSTINE, Conf. i. 4, 4 
 
 TWICE in the course of his history Ammianus pauses to describe 
 the Roman society of his day, and his pictures are lacking neither 
 in colour nor liveliness. But whether these portions of his history 
 were as popular as other sections which he read in public at Rome, 
 we are not told. St Jerome's account of the luxury of Rome, 
 like Cicero's story of his own consulship, may be said to have 
 "exhausted the cabinet of Isocrates, all the paint-boxes of his 
 disciples and a good deal of the pigments of Aristotle 1 ." On the 
 other side Claudian is lavish of admiration, so lavish as to praise 
 much that Jerome attacked. More moderate is Macrobius in his 
 picture of the amiable and learned circle of Praetextatus, which 
 shews us that society at its best. 
 
 But Fortune has preserved for us other means of judging the 
 Roman nobility, for one of its number added to his great repute 
 as an orator the fame of a great letter- writer. We have some 
 nine hundred letters of Symmachus written to a large number of 
 the best people in the Rome of his day. It might be expected 
 that from these we could test the validity of the impeachment 
 of Ammianus and Jerome and the defence of Claudian and Macro- 
 bius. To a certain extent we can. But the reader who hopes 
 to obtain from the letters of Symmachus anything like the bright 
 and varied impression of life he may gain from the accumulations 
 of Sir Edmund Verney and his family, will be disappointed. The 
 reason is not far to seek. The Verney papers remained untouched 
 
 1 ad Alt. ii. 1.
 
 Symmachus 149 
 
 for some two centuries and they offered Parthenope Lady Verney 
 a boundless variety of documents bearing on the daily life and 
 private interests of a large and active family with a wide circle 
 of relatives and acquaintances. The correspondence of Symmachus 
 was edited by his son not long after his death, and Fabius Sym- 
 machus was, I am afraid, a dull man, thoroughly in subjection 
 to the notions of propriety held by his class, which was not a very 
 intelligent class. He carefully removed anything unsafe, anything 
 beneath the dignity of a great man, anything relating to common 
 life or business or passing events. Perhaps he should not have 
 all the blame, for he was apparently a good son and only did what 
 his father would after all have wished. Symmachus himself more 
 than once speaks of subjoining in an index or indiculus or brevi- 
 arium some account of what is occurring, and it is impossible for us 
 to say whether his son cut these away, when he edited the collec- 
 tion, or whether he did it himself, when he filed his letters for 
 preservation. For it has to be confessed that Symmachus kept copies 
 of his letters from a genuine admiration of them, which of course he 
 would have denied or put otherwise. Sometimes he used them 
 again intact, and sometimes he culled a phrase from an old letter 
 to weave into a new. Once, perhaps by mistake, he took a sonorous 
 cluster of words from a letter of Ausonius he had by him 1 . At 
 all events he wrote his letters to his noble friends with a keen 
 sense of their value and dignity, and a strong impression of the 
 likelihood of their being published. Here is at once a difference 
 between such letters and those of Cicero. All is studied, all is 
 for the public. Ubique vitam agimus consularem he wrote of 
 himself a few years after his consulship (Ep. viii. 23), and the same 
 spirit filled him throughout. He never forgot, as even Cicero so 
 frequently did in writing to his friends, that he might be, or was, 
 or had been a consul. Neither did he ever forget that he had 
 a reputation to maintain as a stylist. Indeed it may be said he 
 is most natural and most human when he is thinking about his 
 health or that of his family. 
 
 This edition of his letters was not the only task Fabius under- 
 took for his father. A monument erected by him was found on 
 the Caelian hill in 1617. The inscription is straightforward and 
 not without dignity. " To Q. Aurelius Symmachus, Vir Clarissimus, 
 Quaestor, Praetor, Pontifex Major, Corrector (Governor) of Lucania 
 and the Bruttii, Count of the third order, Proconsul of Africa, 
 
 1 Ep. iii. 6, quoting Ausonius ap. Ep. i. 32 (delenifica et suada facundia).
 
 150 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Prefect of the City, Consul of his year, a most eloquent orator 
 Q. Fabius Memmius Symmachus, Vir Clarissimus, to the best of 
 fathers 1 ." Symmachus' career was thus very typical of his class 
 in his day, splendid but not very important. 
 
 We may then take this man as a representative of the Roman 
 nobility. In nothing else is he of real importance to the historian. 
 He contributed no ideas to mankind and he left no mark on society. 
 He was a good son, a good father, a good friend, a gentleman in 
 a good sense of the word, but in no sense was he great. His 
 reputation for his speeches and his letters is not sustained by 
 posterity. It has become one of the strongest proofs of the de- 
 cadence of Roman taste. In fact, strange as it may seem, the 
 most important act of his life in its bearing on history was his 
 recommendation of St Augustine as a professor of rhetoric to the 
 people of Milan. 
 
 Symmachus came of a distinguished family, and he believed 
 that "good blood tells and never fails to recognize itself" (im- 
 pulsu boni sanguinis, qui se semper agnoscit ; Or. viii. 3). His 
 grandfather, Aurelius Julianus Symmachus, had been consul in 
 the year 330, about ten years before his birth which is generally 
 placed about 340. His father, Lucius Aurelius Avianius Sym- 
 machus, to whom we shall return, was Prefect of the City in 364 
 and won the praise of Ammianus (who is chary of praise) as " one 
 of the most conspicuous examples of learning and modesty 2 ." 
 Quintus Aurelius Symmachus, our subject, was consul in 391. His 
 son Fabius was never more than praetor, but his grandson was 
 consul in 446, his great-grandson, the father-in-law of Boethius, 
 in 485, and that man's grandsons, the sons of Boethius, in 522. 
 
 The education Symmachus received was that of his day the 
 traditional education of a Roman gentleman for centuries rhetoric 
 and literature. How much Greek he learnt, it would be hard to 
 say. It made very little impression on him, but this is not sur- 
 prising in view of the decline of Greek studies 3 . Let an extract 
 from a letter to Ausonius tell of his philosophy 4 . "I pay no 
 
 1 Corp. Inscr. Lat. vi. 1699. Consul ordinarius is the consul who gave his 
 name to the year as opposed to the sujfectus who took his place during the year. 
 
 2 Amrn. Marc, xxvii. 3, 3. 
 
 3 Boissier, F. P. i. 175 6, remarks this decliue. 
 
 4 Perhaps it is not for nothing that in the Saturnalia (vii. 1, 2) Macrobius 
 makes Symmachus deprecate the introduction of Philosophy at the banquet ; 
 rather, he says, tanquam censoria quaedam et plus nimio verecunda materfamilias 
 penetralibus suis contineatur. The passage (including the simile) is modelled 
 from Plutarch's Convivial Questions i. 1, a work much used as a quarry by 
 Macrobius.
 
 Symmachus 151 
 
 attention to others, the ignoble mob, who feign philosophy by 
 air and garb. A few our age has produced, and among these in 
 particular my friend Barachus, whose native wisdom approaches 
 antiquity. ' But do you,' I hear you say, ' presume to judge of 
 philosophers ? ' " (Ep. i. 29). Possibly it was enough for a gentle- 
 man to know the names of the philosophers and an anecdote or 
 two about them. Aristotle was the tutor of Alexander ; for the 
 rest, " Plato taught us there are gods, and Aristotle reduced the 
 nature of rhetoric to an art" (Ep. i. 4). 
 
 When Avianius Symmachus met Libanius the great Greek 
 rhetorician of Antioch, " he saw," writes Libanius to Symmachus, 
 "that I was not at all a contemptible person, and telling me 
 much about your natural endowment, he asked the gods to grant 
 something that might allow you to partake my studies." The 
 prayer was not granted, and Symmachus was trained by "an old 
 man, the child of the Garonne," who "dropped the precepts of 
 rhetoric into his breast" (Ep. ix. 88). Gaul was famous for her 
 rhetoricians, and this man has been identified with Tiberius Victor 
 Minervius, in earlier days the teacher of Ausonius and com- 
 memorated by him in an interesting little poem 1 '. A friend of 
 St Jerome's was sent to Rome " that Roman gravitas might season 
 the richness and resplendency of his Gallic oratory 2 ," and it may 
 not be fanciful to attribute to his teacher from the Garonne the 
 permanently " rich and florid " character of Symmachus' rhetoric, for 
 so Macrobius describes it 3 . 
 
 He entered on the usual career of office for a young Roman 
 noble, as is set forth on his monument, and began to acquire some 
 repute as an orator. In fact his oratory won him his selection 
 by the Senate to bear its offering of gold and voice its sentiments 
 in a panegyric at the Quinquennalia of Valentinian, the festival 
 to celebrate his five years of empire in 369. This panegyric, 
 another to Valentiuian and one delivered at the same time to 
 Gratian, survive, though they are not complete. They are like 
 other panegyrics, but have some additional interest in dealing 
 with the German campaigns of the Emperor, to whose court the 
 young orator was attached at the time. Interfui, he says, ipse 
 
 1 Professores 1. See p. 110. 2 Jerome, Ep. 125, 6. 
 
 3 It may be well to give Macrobius in full, Sat. v. 1, 7 pingue et floridum in 
 quo Plinius Secundus quondam et nunc nullo veterum minor noster Symmachus 
 luxuriatur. This verb, picking up a previous lascivit, is very well chosen to 
 represent Symmachus' style. Whether following Macrobius or not, Gibbon uses 
 the same word "the luxuriancy of Symmachus."
 
 152 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 deprehendi. He is able to emphasize real merit in Valentinian's 
 activity and his preference for active service at the front, but the 
 glory of the ten-year-old Gratian rings false. Of course the Roman 
 Empire is made much of ; the Rhine flows " from our Alps to our 
 Ocean " and mirrors Roman forts on either bank ; " from the 
 couch of the rising Aurora to the goal of the setting sun thou 
 seest nought that is not thine own," and the Neckar, before un- 
 heard of, is now for the first time made known to the world by 
 the Emperor's victories'. This last flourish was, however, a triumph 
 of loyalty over geography. It should be noted to what sources he 
 ascribes the Emperor's prosperity "I said, venerable Augustus, 
 that the gods were thy helpers. It is easy to prove this with the 
 Rhine for a witness, etc." The plural dei was the regular form 
 in panegyrics and its importance maylbe exaggerated. Still it is 
 significant. It was while he was with Valentinian that he made 
 the acquaintance of the poet Ausoiiius, then tutor of Gratian and 
 destined to rise higher. 
 
 In 373 Symmachus became proconsul of Africa, and cooperated 
 with Theodosius, the father of the future Emperor, in crushing 
 Firmus, whose revolt exhibited in the political world those am- 
 bitions of the Moors, which found their religious expression in 
 Donatism. He seems to have won the praise of Theodosius (Or. i.). 
 
 Either just before or just after his two and a half years in 
 Africa, he married Rusticiana the daughter of Orfitus. He received 
 with her a fine dowry, though in later years he was involved 
 in legal troubles by this connexion with Orfitus' estate. Orfitus, 
 according to Ammianus (xiv. 6, 1), was a man who conducted 
 himself with insolence as Prefect of the City, his elevation turning 
 his head, but otherwise he was sensible and a good business man, 
 though alas ! not so well equipped in liberal studies as a nobleman 
 should be. He was exiled on a charge of peculation but afterwards 
 recalled. Symmachus had by this marriage two children, a son 
 and a daughter, who seem to have been born about 384 5. 
 
 Meanwhile Avianius had had an interesting experience of the 
 Roman populace, for, says Ammianus (xxvii. 3, 4), "they burnt 
 his house, the most beautiful across the Tiber, for they had been 
 excited by some vile plebeian saying that Avianius had said 
 (though no one had heard him) that he would rather slake lime 
 
 1 Ausonius says the same of the sources of the Danube, referring to this 
 campaign, Mosella 424, Et fontem Latiis ignotum annalibus Histri, \ haec 
 profligati venit modo laurea belli.
 
 Symmachus 153 
 
 with his wine than sell it at the prices expected. Ammianus 
 abounds in stories of rioting in Rome, when free corn and wine etc. 
 were not forthcoming for the populace. There are hints of this 
 in Symmachus' letters, and the reader will understand his pleasure 
 in watching from his seaside house the corn-ships on their way 
 to Ostia 1 . 
 
 Avianius withdrew to the country and stayed there till the 
 Senate sent a deputation to ask him to return. An oration of 
 Symmachus' on this joyous occasion, and one on behalf of Trygetius 
 delivered about the same time (376), survive in fragments. The 
 latter has some significant flattery addressed to Gratian, in which 
 one may trace some side-references to Valentinian, of a nature 
 to diminish the faith one might place in the previous panegyrics. 
 
 All this is characteristic of the day. One might read the letters 
 of Symmachus without forming any clear idea of the dangers, in- 
 ternal and external, of the Empire, just as it is almost impossible 
 to gather from Miss Austen's pages that England was at war with 
 Napoleon. Yet here are stirring incidents in his family circle, 
 perils that might have broken his fortunes for ever, and he himself 
 was to face and escape even greater dangers. How much more 
 interesting his correspondence would be, if it had not been so 
 carefully edited ! 
 
 Symmachus was now at the height of his glory. He was famous 
 as an orator ; he had represented the Senate before the Emperor ; 
 the Emperors "entrusted to his human voice their divine despatch, 
 and the Senate learned their victories from his mouth " (i. 95). 
 His correspondence now begins to be more extensive. 
 
 In 382 the Emperor Gratian, who had passed from the hands 
 of Ausonius into those of Ambrose, a much more aggressive Chris- 
 tian, began a campaign against paganism. He withdrew public 
 authority and money from the ancestral sacra of the gentes ; 
 cancelled the grants and immunities of the Vestals and limited 
 their right to receive property by will ; and removed the statue 
 of Victory and her altar from the Senate. A remonstrance was 
 addressed to him by the pagan members of the Senate, but (to 
 quote St Ambrose, Ep. xvii. 10), "the holy Damasus, bishop 
 of the Roman church, chosen by God, sent to me a statement 
 
 1 Seneca, Ep. 77 (beg.), gives a pleasant picture of the excitement at Puteoli 
 on the approach of corn-ships, which are recognised from their rigging to be 
 Alexandrian. (See Torr, Ancient Ships, p. 90.) The sight must have meant 
 more to Symmachus with his experience of the Eoman mob.
 
 154 Life and Letters in ttie Fourth Century 
 
 which Christian Senators beyond counting had given him, to the 
 effect that they had directed no such thing to be done, did not 
 agree with such petitions made by the heathen, and withheld their 
 consent ; and they stated publicly and privately that they would 
 not come to the Senate if any concession were made." This state- 
 ment (libellus) was given to Gratian by Ambrose, and the pagans, 
 says Symmachus, "were refused an audience, thanks to unprin- 
 cipled men (improbi), because justice could not have failed them" 
 (Eel. iii. 1). 
 
 A year later Gratian was murdered, and Valentinian II. suc- 
 ceeded him. The pagan party regained some strength and Sym- 
 machus became Prefect of the City. In this capacity he had 
 constant communication with the Emperor on all sorts of business, 
 legal points, civil service disputes, compliments and so forth. Who 
 was responsible for such and such a bridge ? Puteoli and Tarracina 
 quarrel over an imperial grant of grain, and it goes to the Emperor. 
 Certain city guilds wish exemption from a new tax. The people 
 are anxious about some games promised by the Emperor. Honorary 
 senatorial rank is asked for a philosopher, brought according to 
 precedent from Athens to instruct the young nobility. His name 
 is Celsus, and men of letters generally agree in pronouncing him 
 nearly equal (subpar) to Aristotle. Some novelties have been 
 introduced into the processions of Roman magistrates, and Sym- 
 machus asks for their abolition. "Remove the chariot, which 
 boasts greater magnificence ; we prefer that which can claim greater 
 antiquity." 
 
 Two most interesting relationes refer to the duel between 
 Christians and pagans. The pagans made a move to recover from 
 Valentinian II. the altar of Victory, which Gratian would not 
 restore, and the Christians hatched a plot to ruin Symmachus. 
 Both parties failed in the offensive. 
 
 As a good deal of literature rose round the relatio (Rel. 3) 
 about Victory, an abstract of it may be given. Symmachus begins 
 by a reference to the former deputation, which was not received 
 through the machinations of evil men. However he now appears 
 in a twofold capacity, as Prefect of the City and envoy of the 
 Senate. There is no conflict of interests. All are concerned in 
 the glory of the age and the maintenance of ancestral usage. So 
 it is asked that the state of things which long blessed the republic 
 may be restored. Earlier princes maintained and later ones allowed 
 the old ceremonies, and what is so familiar as the altar of Victory ?
 
 Symmachus 155 
 
 Let the name (nomen), if not the goddess (numen), have its dignity. 
 The Emperors owe much to Victory. It has long been an orna- 
 ment of the curia, and the pledge of the honour of the Senate 
 who swore truth on it. Constantius may have interfered with 
 this, but he respected the Vestals. He came, he saw, he tolerated 
 and preserved Roman usages. Different nations have different 
 faiths. That is best which is most helpful to the State, so ex- 
 perience may decide where reason wavers. Rome personified asks 
 leave to live in her own way. The great secret can hardly be 
 reached by one only path, and it is only fair to suppose that what- 
 ever men worship is one after all. However, to turn from dis- 
 cussion to entreaty. What does the Treasury gain by robbing the 
 Vestals ? Rather let it grow rich on the spoils of the foe than the 
 pillage of the priests. It is especially invidious to take money 
 without the plea of need. The Treasury will not allow the 
 Vestals to inherit land, though freedmen may. Thus it is better 
 to be the slave of man than the servant of the gods. Is not this 
 also to interfere with liberty of testation ? It never was to the 
 State's advantage to be ungrateful. In fact disaster and famine 
 have even now followed in the steps of sacrilege. Let it not be 
 said this is to be given to a strange religion. It is not a gift, it 
 is a debt made so by long usage. It is not the Emperor who gives 
 this, as he may be told [as Ambrose did tell him], for it was given 
 long ago. The deputation only ask the continuance of the state 
 of things which gave the Emperor's father empire and heirs [a 
 tacit contrast with Gratian, perhaps]. That deified sire from the 
 starry zenith now looks down on the tears of the priests, and finds 
 himself condemned when the use he maintained is violated. 
 
 Ambrose was again too strong for the pagans. Now for the 
 Christian plot. Symmachus had been charged to recover temple 
 property, and the tale was invented that he had in doing so been 
 guilty of torturing Christian priests. It brought down on him 
 an imperial censure, but he triumphantly cleared himself by pro- 
 ducing evidence to shew he had so far taken no steps at all, and 
 procuring a letter in his favour from Pope Damasus (Rel. 21). 
 
 Symmachus however had a real loss in this year in the death 
 of his friend Praetextatus, and he was subjected to a good deal 
 of annoyance in the matter of the property of Orfitus. So in 
 autumn 385 he gave up office He was still a person of conse- 
 quence and was regarded as the leading man of the Senate. It 
 was in this year he was asked, while still Prefect, to recommend
 
 156 Life mid Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 a teacher of rhetoric for Milan, who should travel at the public cost 
 to take up his duties. Augustine tells us how he set his Manichaean 
 friends to canvass for him, and how after giving an exhibition of 
 his powers to Syrnmachus he was appointed, and on reaching Milan 
 was kindly received by Ambrose, who was, notwithstanding con- 
 troversy, a friend and correspondent of Symmachus 1 . 
 
 In his despatches to Valentinian II. Symmachus had used 
 some striking expressions of loyalty. " Believe me, you (the 
 Emperors) possess the secrets of all hearts " (Rel. 9). He commits 
 the gratitude which he feels, but cannot fulfil, to the powers of 
 heaven (Rel. 7). "0 city accepted of heaven and the stars, on 
 which you have so freely lavished the good things of every land " 
 (Rel. 9). The year 387 shewed (if it was necessary) the value of 
 such phrases. The usurper Maximus, who had killed Gratian, now 
 drove Valentinian from the West, and Rome made her submission. 
 Symmachus delivered a panegyric in his honour and in the fol- 
 lowing year did so again. In 388 Maximus fell before Theodosius 
 at the battle of Aquileia, and everyone had to make haste to 
 change sides. Symmachus' adventures are not recorded by himself, 
 but the tale survives in Socrates the Church historian (v. 14). 
 
 " This Symmachus was an eminent man in the Roman Senate, 
 and was admired for his mastery of Roman eloquence, and there 
 are in fact many speeches written by him in the Roman tongue. 
 While Maximus then still lived, he wrote and recited a panegyric 
 to him, and so became liable to the charge of treason. Accordingly 
 in fear of death he fled to the church. Now the Emperor was 
 so careful of the Christian religion that he not only exceedingly 
 honoured the priests of his own faith, but he also gladly received 
 Novatians who held the Homoousion (the Nicene symbol). At 
 the request of Leontius, bishop of the church of the Novatians 
 in Rome, he yielded and pardoned Symmachus. On obtaining 
 forgiveness Symmachus wrote a speech of apology to the Emperor 
 Theodosius." 
 
 It must have been an interesting speech, but it is lost. Theo- 
 dosius became friendly with him and made him consul for the 
 year 391. Once more the altar of Victory came up, and Ambrose 
 again iatervened and refused for some days to see the Emperor, 
 whom he supposed to be wavering (Ep. Ivii. 4). Symmachus intro- 
 
 1 Con/, v. 13, 23. I believe Augustine was studying rhetoric and reading 
 Cicero's Hortensius at Carthage while Symmachus was proconsul (Conf. iii. 4), 
 but there is no suggestion of their meeting.
 
 Symmachus 157 
 
 duced the matter into a complimentary oration he was making to 
 the Emperor at Milan. Theodosius blazed into passion and had 
 the orator seized, put on a carriage without cushions and driven 
 posthaste to the hundredth milestone 1 . Even so the matter was 
 again brought before the Emperor next year in Gaul, far away from 
 Ambrose, as the saint points out, and he was still obdurate. 
 
 In 392 Eugenius was Emperor, the puppet of Arbogast the 
 Frank. Symmachus, wise by experience, was careful, but still Fabius 
 Symmachus was made quaestor. This was a mistake, and Fabius 
 took pains to eliminate from his father's letters as far as possible 
 all references to the usurper, though one or two escaped him. 
 Flavian, Symmachus' friend, lost his life for Eugenius in the defeat 
 on the river Frigidus, and the younger Flavian, Symmachus' 
 son-in-law, had apparently to turn Christian to conciliate the victo- 
 rious Theodosius a fact worth remembering in view of Claudian's 
 panegyric. Augustine (C. D. v. 26) curiously quotes Claudian's 
 poem and refers to this laudable clemency in the same chapter. 
 The young man was forgiven and became a little later Prefect of 
 the City, but he had great trouble relative to the money matters 
 of the department his father had filled under the usurper. 
 
 Once more in 397 Symmachus had to face danger. Gildo, the 
 brother of Firmus, rebelled in Africa, and had the corn supplies 
 for Rome at his mercy. To declare war on him meant to stop 
 the corn-ships at once, and this meant riot at Rome. To make 
 sure that the odium of this should fall not on the Emperors but 
 on the Senate, and to save the former from any trouble with the 
 latter in consequence of popular disturbance, Stilicho consulted 
 the Senate and made it vote for war 2 . It was many years since 
 the Senate had had such a compliment, but it was costly. The 
 corn failed, there were riots, and Symmachus was for a little time 
 the object of popular ill-will and had to withdraw, but all was 
 soon tranquil. 
 
 His last years were devoted to his son, his son's marriage, 
 the games Fabius was to give as praetor, and his health. It is 
 not certain when he died. Seeck says the year is 402, but it 
 seems clear he was living when Prudentius wrote his reply to the 
 great Relatio, and that was just after the so-called victory of 
 
 1 Prosper, de promiss. Dei, iii. 38, 2. 
 
 2 Claudian (Cons. Stil. i. 325 f.) soars on this occasion; Romuleas leges 
 rediisse fatemur \ cum procerum jussin fainulantia cernimus ariiia a good phrase 
 representing no doubt what Stilicho wished the Senate to think for the 
 moment.
 
 158 Life and Letters in tlie Fourth Century 
 
 Pollentia in 403, so soon after it, apparently, that the doubts 
 which Claudian found it so hard to lay, had not yet been raised 
 about the result of the battle. 
 
 We may now turn to Symmachus in his relations with his 
 family and his friends. The first thing that will strike the English 
 reader is the extraordinary formality with which he addresses his 
 correspondents. A very large number of the letters a strangely 
 large number contain elaborate excuses for not writing, and as 
 elaborate requests for letters, with studied admiration of the cor- 
 respondent's style and profound humility on Symmachus' part on 
 account of his poverty in composition 1 . "I am poor in speech," 
 he writes (iv. 27), "and economical of paper." "I have always, 
 like rivers in drought, shrunk from wide banks, that an affectation 
 of brevity may conceal my poverty...! could wish that like the 
 Aborigines we might exchange our greetings on a bit of stick or 
 cork ; and let Egypt have devised her rolls of papyrus for the 
 libraries and the forum" (iv. 28). Still he has to keep writing 
 every day, though he has little to say. " How long shall we 
 babble (blaterabimus) the words of mutual salutation, without other 
 matter for the pen? In days of old our fathers would fill their 
 friendly pages with business of state but of this there is little or 
 nothing to-day. Of this resource the peace of our times has de- 
 prived us, so we have to hunt for untried seeds of correspondence 
 (semina scribendi) to wipe away the weariness of commonplace 
 letters" (Ep. ii. 35). It was after all the artificial style which 
 appealed to his correspondents, as we may see in Fabius' method 
 of editing. He sorted out the letters into groups, putting by 
 themselves all addressed to the same person, and published them 
 without any further effort at arrangement, and with no consideration 
 for chronology. Indeed in one case at least he confused a father 
 and son and left their letters mixed. After some time spent on this 
 arduous work, he let it drop altogether and made his secretaries 
 copy off his father's letters as they stood in his portfolios without 
 attempting any order at all books viii. and ix. are the result. 
 The relationes, like Pliny's letters to Trajan, stand by themselves. 
 Seeck has been at enormous pains to date as far as possible all 
 the letters. 
 
 1 All these are the constant characteristics of the epistolary style taught by 
 the rhetoricians. There are letters enough of Julian and Synesius, both men of 
 higher type, which shew the same features. See Volkmann, Synesius v. Cyrene, 
 p. 116, and especially Bohde, der griechische Roman, pp. 341 ff., on letter-writing 
 as a regular branch of sophistic composition.
 
 Symmachus 159 
 
 If then the collection offers little aid toward an ordered life 
 of Symmachus, we may still find in it abundant evidence of his 
 character. His letters to his father speak the admiration and 
 affection of a dutiful son. He submits verses to his father's 
 criticism with much nervousness, though he knows his father can- 
 not resist paying the most lavish compliments. "What could 
 be neater than your letter, just received ? what more delightful 
 than its intermixture of verses ?" writes Avianius, and he proceeds 
 to tell his son he is writing poetical tributes to some eighty great 
 men of his time, and he sends five samples. They consist of six 
 tolerable hexameters each and are all very pretty and polite and 
 nothing more. Their chief value is to shew how much better and 
 more lively are Ausonius' similar productions 
 
 Rusticiana, Symmachus' wife, is hardly mentioned in the letters. 
 Once or twice reference is made to her estates, once to her birthday, 
 and once to her not being very well. Nearly all Symmachus' 
 relatives cause him anxiety on this score. 
 
 There is a large number of letters addressed to his son-in-law 
 and his daughter. One gathers the impression that the orator was 
 a little in dread of the lady's temper sometimes. ' She must not be 
 annoyed, he says on one occasion, at his delaying the horses she 
 needs for some journey (vi. 12). He is very anxious about her 
 health is she taking care of it ? Here is a letter (vi. 4) 1 . 
 
 "The suffering I have to bear from the pain in my right hand 
 your bad news has doubled. The keener anxiety racks me, that I 
 know my daughter cannot be persuaded to be moderate in eating 
 and drinking. Worried therefore by distress of mind and disease of 
 body, I could not wait till I could write myself ; but by a hurried 
 dictation I have satisfied my alarm, if I have broken my rule. And 
 first, I implore you to relieve my fears by a reply : and then, lady 
 daughter (domina filia), I pray you in particular to avoid what does 
 not suit your well-being and to mend your health, so often broken, 
 by the aid of temperance. Because it not only promotes health- 
 fulness, but is a testimony of our good sense, to abstain from what 
 is dangerous. Farewell." 
 
 Then she needs rest and quiet (vi. 15). Is she really better or 
 not ? (vi. 20). By and by, she has overdone the abstinence and her 
 health suffers again, and he is very anxious, beside being gouty (vi. 
 
 1 There is a lively little note written by Synesius to a physician on 6\iyo<n.Tia, 
 to whom he quotes Hippocrates as his authority for its being the "mother of 
 health," Ep. 115.
 
 160 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 29). He is happy to hear a purge has given her relief and has also 
 reduced the inflammation of her eyes was it necessary to bleed her 
 as well? he anxiously asks (vi. 64). His daughter's bad health 
 requires the solace of her husband's presence, and the weakness of 
 his stomach forbids him to go to her, so with other difficulties 
 coinciding Symmachus hardly knows what to advise (vi. 59). 
 Another source of anxiety is his little granddaughter Galla, who is 
 ill at the same time as her mother, but by the gods' blessing 
 (opitulatio divind) he hopes for good news. He will take it as a 
 mark of true affection if his daughter will take care of herself and 
 let him have better reports of their progress (vi. 22). 
 
 We have one or two letters acknowledging her birthday gifts. 
 He is delighted with her lanificium ; it shews her love as daughter 
 and her diligence as a matron ; it is quite like the famous women 
 of old, but that they lived in a dull age which was congenial to the 
 distaff, while she lived at Baiae (vi. 67). Another year, he says it 
 was a tradition of many years for him to receive the gifts, and he is 
 the more grateful for being brief in his thanks, but urges it on her 
 as a filial duty to take care of her health (vi. 48). 
 
 To his son he was even more devoted. He personally took 
 charge of his health, his education, and his future renown. Pignus 
 meum and unicus meus, "my only son," come over and over in the 
 letters. He writes to a friend; "While my son is being initiated 
 into Greek, I have once more taken part in his studies as if a 
 schoolfellow. A father's feelings (pietas) bid one become a boy 
 again, that the sharing of the toil may make the lessons pleasant to 
 one's children. For you however things are not in the budding 
 stage, but at harvest time ; for I find your son is most eloquent 
 and pressing hard on the heels of his father's proficiency. happy 
 man, my friend, if you are surpassed ! My care is still to encourage 
 the blossom, and I cannot exact hard work from my only boy. 
 Still between my fears and my persistence my dear one's progress 
 is sure if slow " (iv. 20). 
 
 Fabius was made quaestor by Eugenius the usurper, an episode 
 the family tried to forget, and later on the praetorship was given 
 him by Honorius for 400, the date being changed however to 401. 
 The only duty attached to these offices was to give on each occasion 
 a great show in Rome. Symmachus felt this to be most important. 
 He strongly disapproved of the neglect with which some Roman 
 nobles treated this part of their duty, and emphasized with how 
 little expense after all it might be done (ix. 126). Yet he got a
 
 Symmachns 161 
 
 law to limit extravagance in displays of the kind, and broke it for 
 Fabius' glory. 
 
 Some half dozen letters refer to the quaestorship contemporary 
 letters. He writes to Paternus, who was a Christian, about hunters 
 for the arena (v. 59), to some one else about ornaments and especi- 
 ally robes which he describes in a very modern way as partly silk 
 (subsericas, v. 20). Flavian sent him seven Scottish dogs which 
 were greatly admired (ii. 77), and Symmachus writes to him to ask 
 his kindly offices with one Domitiiis, who has promised bears which 
 are desperately needed and not to hand. Some few cubs have 
 indeed arrived, but worn out by starvation and travel, and he can 
 hear nothing of his lions (ii. 76). But there was a more cruel blow 
 yet, and he had need to remind himself of Socrates' way of 
 supposing all to be for the best, however disappointing, when he 
 found that some twenty-nine Saxons (desperate race !) had laid 
 impious hands on themselves and strangled themselves or one 
 another to escape the arena and death before the populace (ii. 46). 
 For Symmachus stood for gladiatorial shows and had as Prefect 
 congratulated the Emperor after a victory over the Sarmatians on 
 " reserving some of the prisoners for the pleasure of the people of 
 Mars" (Eel. 47). They had been marched through the streets and 
 " we saw the shackled column of the conquered race in procession, 
 and those faces once so warlike altered to a wretched pallor." 
 
 On Fabius' praetorian games he is said to have spent 80,000, 
 and we have a large number of letters appealing to his friends to 
 aid him in purchasing Spanish horses 1 and to hasten their delivery. 
 Bears, leopards, antelopes, charioteers, stage-carpenters, trappings 
 fill his letters. This time the robes are to be all silk (holosericae, 
 iv. 8). He had some crocodiles, which he exhibited, and he wanted 
 to save them for his daughter and her husband to see, but for fifty 
 days they would not eat and they had to be killed at the second 
 show (vi. 42). In this connexion a couple of letters on the custom- 
 house are interesting. An attempt was made to charge a friend of 
 Symmachus a duty of 2 per cent, on some bears imported by him 
 for the arena. Traders in beasts had to pay this, but candidates 
 who gave shows for the people's amusement were usually and not 
 
 1 So many letters relating to Spanish horses have been preserved, that one 
 feels tempted to suppose Ammianus was not far wrong when he grumbled at the 
 passion for horse-flesh among "grave men, and maintainers of the virtues, as 
 they think" (xxviii. 4, 11). An interesting account of an African magnate's stud 
 and the magical devices of the jockeys is given by Boissier, VAfrique Romaine, 
 ch. rv. 3. (Engl. tr. p. 173.) 
 
 G. 11
 
 162 Life and Letters in the Fourth Cerituri/ 
 
 improperly freed from the impost (v. 62). Very soon Symmachus 
 has to intercede for another friend, on whom an attempt has been 
 made to levy 2i per cent., also on bears. One burden is enough, he 
 says (v. 65). 
 
 The business of capturing and transporting wild beasts had been 
 for centuries an enormous one, and one of the most wasteful 
 methods of exhausting the Empire. Claudian twice sets the minor 
 powers of heaven to collect beasts for the circus, and his descrip- 
 tions are contemporary with the letters of Symmachus. They are 
 elaborate and have some interest as history, but as poetry they fail 1 . 
 
 In 401 Symmachus married his son to the granddaughter of 
 Flavian, and we have a number of polite little letters sending little 
 gifts to friends in celebration of the occasion. The same had been 
 done when Fabius was quaestor and praetor. 
 
 Symmachus had a wide circle of friends, and though it may be 
 said that his views on friendship are by no means original, yet it is 
 clear that friendships were a large part of his life. " My feeling is 
 that my friends' prosperity is part of my own good fortune. And, 
 in truth, how many happy days can a man have who only reckons 
 his own advantages ? He has a wider joy who can enjoy another's 
 happiness" (iii. 24). "Is there any one so hard-hearted as to see 
 the sorrow of many without feeling pain?" (v. 12). "Favours 
 seem to me to confer more on him who gives them" (vii. 46). 
 "The mind finds its own sorrow lightened, when it directs itself 
 to kindly offices" (ii. 32). "True friendship feels such security, 
 that it finds in its own loyalty an assurance of mutual affection" 
 (iv. 30). 
 
 Full accounts of his friends, their fames and families, are given 
 by Seeck in his great Introduction. To one or two of them I have 
 already alluded. One however calls for special notice. Vettius 
 Agorius Praetextatus (b. 330 or earlier, d. 384) was the most 
 eminent of the heathen in Rome. He was a scholar, an antiquarian, 
 something of a philosopher and a mystic. In his house Macrobius 
 laid the opening scene of his Saturnalia, and he is a leading 
 character in the discussions. He held a number of priesthoods and 
 made a point of being initiated into all possible mysteries a 
 privilege he extended to his wife. He won high praise from 
 Ammianus for his integrity and sense in his government of Rome 
 
 1 See Paneg. Manl. TJieod. 280332 and Cons. Stil. iii. 237369. Cf. too 
 Amra. Marc, xxviii. 4, 28 31 on the races.
 
 Symmaclms 1 03 
 
 when he was Prefect 1 . He had the distinction of settling the 
 quarrel of Ursinus and Damasus for the Roman See, by expelling 
 the former from the city 2 . In this connexion a story of St Jerome's 
 is interesting " The wretched Praetextatus," he says, " who died 
 when consul designate, a sacrilegious person and a worshipper of 
 idols, used laughingly to say to the blessed Pope Damasus, 'Make 
 me bishop of the Roman Church, and I will be a Christian at once ' " 
 Damasus might forgive this jest to the man who rid him of Ursinus. 
 Some eight inscriptions to his memory have been found in Rome 
 and one in Crete. To one of these I must refer. 
 
 His sepulchral monument 3 bears after his name a list of his 
 priesthoods, Roman and non-Roman, and the last two titles call 
 for attention tawoboliatus, pater patrum. The pater was the 
 seventh grade in the priesthood of Mithras, and the taurobolium 
 was the baptism of that religion 4 . The participant stood in a 
 pit, the throat of a bull was cut over him, and he was drenched 
 with the blood. The bull was the sacred animal of Mithras and 
 its blood meant new life and regeneration for eternity taurobolio 
 in aeternum renatus, says one man in an inscription (C. I. L. vi. 510). 
 Women had usually no place in Mithraism, but the name of 
 Praetextatus' wife, with her priesthoods and tattroboliata, follows 
 his own. 
 
 On the same monument are two inscriptions addressed by 
 Praetextatus to his wife, and one by her to him, which I translate, 
 as it seems to me to exhibit the better side of Roman society in a 
 tender and beautiful way. They were married for forty years, and 
 she says : 
 
 " The splendour of my parents gave me nought better than that 
 I seemed worthy of my husband ; but all my light and glory is my 
 lord's name, thine, Agorius, who, sprung of proud lineage, dost 
 illume thy country, the senate and thy wife, by thine honesty of 
 heart, thy character and thy studies, whereby thou hast attained 
 the highest pinnacle of virtue. For, whatever is set forth in either 
 tongue by the thought of the wise to whom heaven's gate stands 
 open, and all the songs the learned have written and all things set 
 
 1 Amm. Marc, xxvii. 9, 8 10. 
 
 2 The famous fight for the bishopric and the historian's comment, xxvii. 3, 
 12 15, which may have been suggested by Jerome's story, contr. Joliann. 
 Hierosol. 8. 
 
 3 C. I. L. vi. 1779. I have taken it from Seeck, who quotes it in full. 
 
 4 See an excellent article by A. Gasquet in Revue des Deux Mondes, April 1st, 
 1899, on Le culte et les mysteres de Mithra. Also Prudentius, artfy. x. 1010 
 1050 a most vivid and realistic account of the taurobolium. 
 
 112
 
 164 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 forth in prose, thou givest forth, but better than thou didst find 
 them in the books. But this is of light account ; thou, holy and 
 initiate, dost lay up in the secret of thy heart what thou hast 
 learnt in holy rites, and well-skilled dost adore the manifold 
 divinity of the gods, of thy goodness admitting thy wife to the 
 sacred things of men and gods, a faithful partner. Why now 
 should I tell of office or of power, the joys men seek in prayer ? for 
 thou, ever reckoning these to be but light and for a season, dost 
 boast to be the priest of the gods and wear the fillet. Thou, 
 purifying and cleansing me by the blessing of thy teaching, dost 
 save me from the lot of death, lead me to the temples and dedicate 
 me to the service of the gods ; in thy presence I am initiated into 
 all the mysteries. Priestess of Cybele and Attis, thou my holy 
 spouse dost honour me with the rites of the bull. The handmaid 
 of Hecate, thou teachest me the three secrets; thou makest me 
 worthy the mysteries of the Greek Ceres. It is because of thee 
 that all call me blessed and holy, for thou dost spread my fame 
 through the world. Though unknown, I am known to all. For 
 how should I fail to please, when thou art my husband? The 
 matrons of Rome take an example from me, and count their 
 offspring fair if it be like thine. Men and women alike covet and 
 approve the glories thou hast given me by thy teaching. Now that 
 all this is taken away, I am a sad wife and in sorrow, who had been 
 happy had the gods let my husband survive me, yet happy still in 
 this that thine I am and have been and thine shall ere long be after 
 death." 
 
 Such a man was Symmachus' friend Praetextatus, and there were 
 others like him, but he also counted among his friends men who 
 were neither so pious nor so learned as Praetextatus. Stilicho and 
 Bauto (father-in-law of the Emperor Arcadius) were soldiers and 
 barbarians, a Vandal and a Frank. Petronius Probus was neither 
 saint nor soldier. Ausonius was a poet and said he was a Christian. 
 Ambrose was a Christian and a bishop, and not the only one of 
 Symmachus' acquaintance, for beside Damasus who defended him 
 against Christian calumny, we find two bishops receiving letters of 
 recommendation from him. To his brother he wrote ; " You may 
 wonder at my recommending a bishop to you, but it is his cause 
 and not his sect that has induced me." It was a bishop Clemens, 
 whose Mauretanian diocese had been plundered, apparently by 
 Firmus. Moneys belonging to the treasury had been taken, and 
 now the treasury was trying to collect its taxes a second time to
 
 Symmachus 165 
 
 replace what was lost, and the bishop appealed to Symmachus and 
 he sent him to his brother (i. 64). Another bishop he introduces as 
 "my brother Severus, a bishop whom all the sects [i.e. including 
 pagans] agree in calling praiseworthy" (vii. 51). 
 
 People in all sorts of need appealed to him. Here and there are 
 letters recommending sons-in-law (ix. 7, 49). A betrothal has been 
 cancelled and Symmachus writes on behalf of the incensed suitor. 
 He thinks the lady's father had been unhandsome (devenustare), and 
 that it will be a little rude of him to reject the intercession of 
 Symmachus, when the young man's character and standing are, as 
 he knows, excellent (ix. 43). A professor is in distress, and 
 Symmachus writes to Flavian: 
 
 " His dress and his hair proclaim Serapammon a man of letters, 
 for if he had felt he had no share in such things, he would never 
 have adopted the -philosopher's garb. But about this I leave you to 
 judge, who profess to understand such things. I felt I could not 
 properly refuse an introduction at his request. It will be consistent 
 with your character, if you aid the fortunes of the stranger with 
 your resources and your kindness " (ii. 61). 
 
 Again, he intercedes for a professor, whose salary is in some 
 danger (i. 79), and he lays down the principle that it is the mark 
 of a flourishing State that good salaries be paid to professors. It 
 is one of the pleasant features of Roman society, or at least of that 
 part of it which Symmachus represents, that literature or learning 
 is as good a passport into it as wealth or military glory. Ausonius 
 and even Eugenius himself had begun as teachers of rhetoric. 
 
 Far too many letters of mere compliment are included in the 
 collection letters in which pretty nothings are " over-curiously 
 trimmed," till the modern reader is apt to suppose both writer and 
 recipient entirely frivolous. The language is certainly extravagant 
 and the tone of mutual admiration unhealthy, but we must re- 
 member that the contemporaries of Drake and Shakespeare used the 
 most extraordinary phraseology of their Queen. We have to go 
 deeper than the form, and Symmachus apart from literature seems 
 to have been a very sensible and kindly man. 
 
 I quote as an example of his happier style a letter to the young 
 Olybrius and Probinus, the sons of Petronius Probus, who were 
 consuls in 396, and for whom Claudian wrote his first great Latin 
 poem not nearly so sensible a production. 
 
 " Your hunting bears witness to your fulness of strength and 
 vigour. So this is my first reason for pleasure about you, that you
 
 160 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 are benefiting your health by rustic pleasures. The second stage 
 of my happiness is that I should have deserved what you took in 
 the chase. For as we are permitted to dedicate the horns of stags 
 to the honour of the gods and to fix the tusks of the boar at our 
 thresholds, so the fruits of the woods are devoted to friendship. 
 Meantime I repudiate the idea that hunting is a business for slaves. 
 Granted that a writer [Sallust, Cat. iv. 1] laid this down, who is 
 only to be praised for his style for the damage his character 
 sustained disqualifies him as a guide for life I prefer you to enjoy 
 country life with Atilius and follow the sport of strength than to 
 be led aside by fair phrases into habits of idleness. At all events 
 this exercise suits your years. Youths should be tested not by 
 gaming-board or ball or Attic hoop and Greek palaestra, but by 
 the ready endurance of fatigue and delight in innocent hardihood. 
 It is to this I shall encourage my Symmachus, when he grows old 
 enough, though he will have no brother to go with him (quamcis 
 unicum). A day will come when, burdened with years, you will have 
 to renounce this employment. Then hunting will rightly be called 
 a servile business. For it is a sort of slavery, if, when our strength 
 fails, we refuse to use the respite from toil which old age grants us " 
 (v. 68). 
 
 That the reader may be able to judge from a specimen, I quote 
 one of the too many letters of compliment with which Symmachus 
 found himself bound to honour his friends. Some of the terms are 
 a little hard to translate into rational English. 
 
 "Decency [the word is religio] demanded that I should write, 
 especially when an opportunity coming from your own household 
 encouraged me. For your man offered himself as letter-carrier, and 
 I saw clearly that not to give him a letter would be monstrous guilt. 
 So I hope you are well, I inform you that I am, and I hope in 
 return that you will reward me with news of your good health" 
 (v. 61). 
 
 The French scholar M. Morin, who published an interesting 
 monograph on Symmachus in 1847, remarks on the value of the 
 letters of Symmachus to the historian, while he gently complains 
 that Gibbon made little use of him. Gibbon has however a 
 footnote on him, which is very characteristic: "The luxuriaucy 
 of Symmachus consists in barren leaves without fruit and even 
 without flowers. Few facts and few sentiments can be extracted 
 from his verbose correspondence'." It is certainly true that if 
 
 1 Gibbon iii. 410, u. 16.
 
 Symmachus 107 
 
 Symmachus were our only authority for his period, its history 
 would be all but a blank. It is only as a tributary to another 
 source of information that he is of the least value. One might 
 learn from him the names of the Emperors, but hardly another fact 
 but that Valentinian was a soldier. Maximus and Eugenius are of 
 course obscured. Apart from the affair of the altar of Victory and 
 the accidental allusions to a bishop or two, one hears nothing of 
 Christianity 1 . To the barbarians he makes no allusion in his 
 letters 2 . Now and then he speaks of the country districts being in 
 distress. "It has come to be the practice in our days," he says, 
 "that the country which used to feed us has to be fed" (i. 5). We 
 hear of brigandage (ii. 22), and there is an end of it. 
 
 He hardly refers to the Empire, except in the panegyrics already 
 quoted. The Emperor is always spoken of in the language of 
 worship. His words are oracles, his person sacred, himself actually 
 royal " all men love him as the god who feeds mankind " (iii. 82). 
 (This phrase "was meant for the sacred ears, though in a private 
 letter.) Once however he says to an Emperor that "the Empire 
 has grown because you rule over free men" (Or. iv. 13) a sentiment 
 much elaborated by Claudian. 
 
 Of official tyranny and mismanagement, of the severity and 
 cruelty to which subjects were submitted with little consideration of 
 guilt or innocence, we hear a good deal. Take an example (v. 63). 
 The treasury officials of Italy have started a new trick (stropha). 
 They forge claims against persons as debtors to the treasury and 
 exact them. The weak give way because they are bullied; the 
 strong, because to resist may be made into treason. In this at all 
 events Symmachus confirms the impression we get from Ammianus. 
 
 The Senate is of course the centre of Symmachus' immediate 
 political life, and his friends are mainly of the nobility. Many of 
 them still had enormous wealth. Possibly Petronius Probus was 
 the richest, though Ammianus (xxvii. 11, 1) amiably says it is not 
 for his poor judgment to decide whether he came by all his estates 
 justly or unjustly. Symmachus himself had a surprising number 
 of country villas, residences and lodges at various places near and 
 
 1 Eutropius, the historian, a friend of Symmachus, managed in the same 
 way to write of Constantine without a reference to his conversion, and concludes 
 atque inter Divos meruit referri (x. 2, 8). 
 
 2 In his panegyric on Gratian, it was impossible not to allude to them when 
 the orator had followed a campaign against them on the Ehine and Neckar, but 
 he has found a prophecy "Thus far aud no farther" Hactenus nomen stetisse 
 barbaricum (Or. iii. 12).
 
 168 Life and Letters in tlie Fourth Century 
 
 about Rome and in Campania, and estates in Samnium, Apulia, 
 Sicily and Mauretania. Seeck has collected a great list from the 
 letters 1 . 
 
 Yet the manners of these great men were not always nice. 
 Symmachus hints at one brawl in the Senate, and " is ashamed to 
 tell what charges and bad language the best men threw at one 
 another " (vi. 22). He had however been absent. The times were, 
 no doubt, improving in some ways, as we can see in Macrobius, but 
 slavery still tainted society with cruelty. Apart from the gladia- 
 torial shows, to which I have referred, we find once or twice in 
 the letters allusions to slavery ; e.g. the punishment of a slave, who 
 went off without waiting for an answer to a letter, and " it lies in 
 your hands whether you allow this to go unavenged [iiiultum, 
 rather more than unpunished, but not quite so much as un- 
 avenged] " (vi. 8) 2 ; and again a request to a magistrate, which may 
 be quoted at length. 
 
 " My first reason for writing is to pay you the compliment of a 
 greeting, my second to present a petition to the magistrate whose 
 love of law I know so well (probatam mihi modest lam}. For a 
 good many slaves of my establishment have run away and lie hid in 
 the region under your care. I should like you to hear my agent's 
 allegations and restore these persons ; for it is only consistent with 
 your character to consider our friendship and deny a refuge to the 
 iniquity of slaves (servili nequitiae). Farewell" (ix. 140). 
 
 The letter leaves an uneasy feeling. It is too suggestive of 
 Fugitive Slaves Bills. No doubt many masters shared the feelings 
 Macrobius puts into Praetextatus' mouth in the Saturnalia, that 
 slaves were men "slaves no doubt, but still men; they are slaves; 
 rather, say fellow-slaves, if you reflect that Fortune has equal power 
 over both.... He may be slave of stern necessity, but perhaps he is a 
 slave whose mind is free (like Epictetus)" (Saturn, i. 11, 7). Yet 
 Praetextatus in the same speech says, "We masters put on the 
 minds of tyrants, and we wish to be limited in our treatment of our 
 slaves not by what is fitting but by what is lawful" (ib. i. 11, 14). 
 However gentle slavery may be, it still is slavery 3 . 
 
 1 Symmachus "had three villas in the immediate neighbourhood of Borne, 
 seven in other parts of Latium, five on the bay of Naples and probably several 
 others of which we do not know." Seeck, Gesch. des Untergangs der Antiken 
 Welt, p. 379. See also his Introduction to the Letters. 
 
 2 Ammianus (xxviii. 4, 16) speaks of 300 lashes being ordered by a Eoman 
 master for a slave, who was slow in bringing warm water an ominous parallel, 
 I am afraid. 
 
 3 Both passages are from Seneca, Ep. 47, but as Macrobius considered the
 
 Symmachus 169 
 
 It may be fairly urged that Syminaclms was not writing history 
 and that broad views were not required of him. Yet the narrow 
 range of his interests is significant. He lived in a very narrow 
 world. It was no longer the Rome of Cicero or Augustus. The 
 seats of government were Constantinople and Milan; and Rome 
 was a provincial town with a history. On that history Symmachus 
 and his friends lived. They were subjects now and not rulers', and 
 had little chance of making history except by accident or by 
 attaching themselves to the court and leaving Rome. Symmachus 
 had great difficulty in prevailing on Flavianus to go East to become 
 secretary to the Emperor "to utter in oracles the mind of the 
 august prince" (ii. 8). Except in the case of men of learning and 
 physicians, they had no concern with their fellow-subjects abroad' 2 . 
 Even for the "fellows without grandfathers" (terrae filios) and 
 "plebeian society" Symmachus betrays his contempt (i. 3). In 
 literature it was the same. They read the recognized Latin classics 3 
 and imitated them as carefully as they could. Pliny the younger 
 was Symmachus' especial model. The writers of the day who can 
 boast any life, are not Italian. Ammianus and Macrobius were 
 Greek, Augustine a Latin of Africa, Prudentius a Spaniard, 
 Sulpicius a Gaul, Claudian some kind of Egyptian, whether Greek 
 or Latin. It is from such men and not from Symmachus that one 
 obtains the truest picture of the Roman world. 
 
 Symmachus missed the meaning of Rome through his narrow 
 conservatism. So in religion he held fast by paganism more from a 
 sense of its traditional propriety than from faith. No doubt he 
 constantly refers to the gods in such phrases as " by the divine 
 blessing," "by the peace of the gods" and so forth 4 , and he was 
 in his dignified way a pious person, but without much religious 
 enthusiasm or reflexion. He stood for the altar of Victory stoutly, 
 
 letter worth quoting in this way and re-iiiforcing with examples from Gellius, 
 we may still consider it not without value as evidence for his own day. 
 
 1 Lact. de M. P. 26, Galerius, devouring the world with taxation, ad hatic 
 usque prosiluit insaniam ut ab hoc captivitate ne populum quidem Roinanum fieri 
 vellet immunem. 
 
 2 Ammianus (xiv. 6, 12 13) says even these distinguished strangers were 
 only welcome once. 
 
 3 Ammianus (xxviii. 4, 14) says the Roman gentry confined themselves to 
 Juvenal and Marius Maximus, who are not in Seeck's list of Symmachus' authors. 
 Lucretius seems not to have been read. His verse repelled the taste of the age, 
 his philosophy its faith. Augustine refers to him once, de Util. Cred. 4, 10. 
 
 4 That he should use such phrases at all marks the change of Roman feeling 
 since the days of Cicero, whose mind is revealed by such passages as this to his 
 wife (ad Fam. xiv. 4, 1) : ncque di, quos tu castistsime coluisti, nequc homines, 
 quibus eijo semper servivi, nobis gratiam retulerunt.
 
 170 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 and he stood for the traditional rather than the modern chariot in 
 the procession. He was careful about the expiation of a portent at 
 Spoletium (i. 49). He was opposed to the erection by the Vestals 
 of a monument to his friend Praetextatus it was an innovation. 
 But if he had been forced to state his ultimate belief about the 
 divine, it must have been a general impression that it or they 
 had a benevolent nature, or, if this be too strong, a preference for 
 hoping it were true. Many ways might lead to the great secret, 
 but it was a Roman's part to be content with the way his fathers 
 took, and if necessary console himself with the thought that, if these 
 things were obscure, antiquity was more likely to be right. His 
 passion was for antiquity and for religion as part of its inheritance. 
 
 Is it any marvel that Julian was disappointed with a pagan 
 community, of which Symmachus was a truer type than himself, 
 which was content with lazy generalities and ready to turn Christian 
 to oblige Theodosius or to -soothe him, which in a word had no 
 convictions ? 
 
 Still, we must be just to Symmachus. The traditions of his 
 family and of his city, his education and his environment made it 
 difficult for a man of no great mental power to take a wide outlook, 
 and if he preferred to spend his days "patching up his health, 
 avoiding disturbance and always loving literature " (iv. 44), if his 
 ideals were not strenuous, he passed through life with the respect of 
 Christian as well as pagan, the type of an honourable and cultured 
 Roman gentleman.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MACROBIUS 
 
 Vetustas quidem nobis semper, si sapimus, adoranda est. 
 
 Sat. iii. 14, 2 
 
 THE work of a commentator may be of interest in either or both 
 of two ways. He may win attention for what he contributes to the 
 explanation and interpretation of the author with whom he deals, 
 or he may be interesting for what he reveals of himself or his age. 
 In the case of a great commentator it is sometimes hard to say for 
 which reason he is read. Do the majority of his readers study 
 Calvin for the sake of St Paul or for Calvin's own sake? But there 
 are men of far less nate, men who cannot claim genius, originality 
 or even insight, whose commentaries are of value for the light they 
 throw upon the feelings and the tastes of their day. Among these 
 we may place Macrobius. He preserves, no doubt, a great deal of 
 matter, of which the student of Virgil would be sorry to be deprived, 
 though it certainly could not be called indispensable, but it is 
 mainly as an exponent of the mind of Roman society at the end 
 of the fourth century that he merits attention. Claudian was a man 
 of genius; Symmachus and Macrobius were not, but their remains 
 help to complete his picture of the times. It is mainly to this part 
 of Macrobius' work that I shall devote the following pages. 
 
 One point however demands notice first of all. One aspect of 
 Roman life is carefully ignored by Macrobius as by Claudian, and is 
 but accidentally mentioned by Symmachus. No reference is made 
 to Christianity, or to any thing or any person connected with it. 
 Yet it touched at many points the lives of the men Macrobius 
 presents to us. Praetextatus, Symmachus and Flavian are chiefly 
 conspicuous because they were its last great opponents, Flavian even 
 falling in battle against it. Of the others Caecina Albinus, pontifex
 
 172 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 as he was, had a Christian wife ; his daughter Laeta was a corre- 
 spondent of St Jerome's ; and his little granddaughter Paula, who 
 was dedicated to the nunnery from her birth, is pictured by the 
 Saint (Ep. 107, 1) singing her childish Alleluia to her pagan grand- 
 father, as she sat on his knee. The other Albinus is variously called 
 Furius and Kufius in the manuscripts, and if Rufius was his name, 
 as Seeck believes, he was a Christian himself. Macrobius then was 
 not silent about Christianity because he knew nothing of it. His 
 silence is, on the contrary, as significant as anything he could say. 
 A contemporary of Augustine, Ambrose, Jerome, Chrysostom and 
 Theodosius, he chooses to know nothing of their faith. It was 
 victorious, and his revenge is silence. 
 
 Apart from his books little can be said of the man. The books 
 are dedicated to his son Eustachius, and he hopes his son will find 
 his language correct and a good model, though he was "born under 
 another sky" (nos sub olio ortos caelo, Sat. Praef. 11). We might, 
 from his knowledge of Greek literature, suppose this other sky to 
 have been that of Greece, or, if not of the Greece of geography, of 
 that wider Greece which embraced the Eastern World. But it is 
 suggested he may have been born in Africa '. We have really no 
 evidence. A priori probabilities are quite valueless here. Augustine 
 was an African and knew Greek literature chiefly in translations ; 
 Apuleius read Greek before he read Latin. Nor can we say with 
 van Jan, his great editor, that, if a Greek, Macrobius would hardly 
 have written in Latin. Ammianus and Hierius, and perhaps 
 Claudian, were Greeks. Attempts have been made to identify 
 Macrobius with one or other of several contemporary officials, who 
 bore the name, and in one case we should have to suppose he 
 became in later life a Christian, but there is no probability, or at 
 least no certainty, in any of these identifications. We are thus 
 left to what he says of himself. If we cannot learn his history, we 
 can at least form some idea of his mind. 
 
 Three works remain which bear his name. One, to which 
 I shall not further refer, is grammatical and deals with the differences 
 of the Greek and the Latin verb. The Saturnalia and the 
 
 1 Van Jan inclines this way. Petit (de Macrobio Ciceronis interprete, Paris, 
 1866) holds to the Greek origin. Macrobius in the MSS has also the name 
 Ambrosius, on the strength of which Petit identifies him with Ambrosius, a 
 correspondent of Libanius. The evidence he cites from the letters is quite 
 inconclusive : Ambrosius is an official ; he is interested in reading ; and a 
 rhetorician, by name Eusebius, is introduced to him. Sixty persons named 
 Ensebius are enumerated by Fabricius (v. Jan, i. p. xxx).
 
 Macrobim 173 
 
 Commentary on Scipio's Dream, in spite of an elaborate fulness which 
 betrays the professional teacher, are really interesting books and not 
 unworthy of study. I shall not attempt a close analysis of them, 
 but content myself with remarking the salient points which make 
 themselves felt on a general survey of the books, and first of the 
 Saturnalia. 
 
 That the book owes something to the Nodes Atticae of Gellius 
 is very evident. Apart from material freely borrowed (without 
 acknowledgment) the name Macrobius gave his book and the lan- 
 guage of his preface suggest Gellius. Gellius tells us there were many 
 books like his, with all sorts of fanciful titles to indicate the variety 
 of their contents, books of extracts and notes and criticisms set down 
 in any order or no order Amaltheas Horn, for instance, Muses, 
 Honeycombs, Lamps, Quilts, Manuals and so forth. He himself, 
 in memory of the place and time of his studies' beginning, calls 
 his book Attic Nights 1 . Macrobius avows the same design. His 
 book is to gather together the fruits of his reading, but (and we are to 
 understand the advance made here) it will present them in an ordered 
 and digested form, for the mind, like the stomach, will not bear un- 
 digested matter ; it may load the memory, but it will not help the 
 intelligence (ingenium). He chooses the form of a dialogue. 
 
 He would hardly do so to-day perhaps 2 , but to say nothing 
 of Plato and Cicero, whose dialogues have really something of 
 discussion about them, there is abundant precedent for the use of 
 this style of composition for matter frankly more suitable for the 
 dictionary or the encyclopedia. The Deipnosophists of Athenaeus 
 is the most terrible monument of energy turned in this direction. 
 Again, the Convivial Questions or Symposiacs of Plutarch, a work 
 from which Macrobius borrowed most of his seventh book, may also 
 have suggested this method. The Questions, however, Archbishop 
 Trench says 3 , are no fancy pieces, but brief records of conversations 
 which actually sprang up at entertainments in which Plutarch took 
 part, and at the request of a friend they were cast into their present 
 shape from notes taken at the time. Gellius too has chapters 
 professing to be from life, and there was also the precedent of Varro. 
 
 1 For Gellius, see Prof. Nettleship's essay in his Essays in Latin Literature, i. 
 Comparetti, Vergil in the Middle Ages, pt. i. c. 4, and Boissier, La Fin du 
 Paganisme, vol. i. pp. 178 180, will also be found interesting. 
 
 2 Yet a Hebrew Grammar, widely used, consisted in its first edition of 
 "Letters to a Duchess," and a much reprinted work on the Mystics was cast 
 in the form of a series of conversations "over wine and walnuts." 
 
 3 Lectures on Plutarch, 2nd ed. p. 20, an interesting work.
 
 174 Life and Letters in the Fourth Ccntnrji 
 
 Nor indeed was the deliberate dialogue yet dead, as readers of 
 St Augustine will remember. More than one of the discussions at 
 Cassisiacum were reported there and then by notarii, though doubtless 
 Augustine remembered Cicero, when he drew up the De Beata Vita 
 and the rest for publication. Even points of grammar and etymology 
 were sometimes discussed at the dinner-table. It was a favourite 
 diversion of the Emperor Tiberius. No doubt, before Philology 
 became scientific, it was a game at which all could play, who had a 
 little fancy and a slight knowledge of Greek, a language from which 
 Latin was largely derived 1 . 
 
 With all these precedents, whatever may have been his special 
 reason, Macrobius chose to make a dialogue of his material, and 
 like Plato and Athenaeus put the whole thing into the mouth of a 
 man with a memory, who had been present at the supposed gathering. 
 We are apt to forget at times that we are reading the story of a 
 conversation, though now and again Macrobius remembers to remind 
 us of the fact. Servius, for example, in a discourse obviously tran- 
 scribed from a note-book, speaks of "his memory serving him at the 
 moment." Here and there we have some by-play, which we 
 generally owe to the outspokenness of Evangelus, the "villain" of 
 the piece. After some forty consecutive Teubner pages of theology, 
 the author apologizes, we may perhaps say, by letting the guests 
 express their admiration of Praetextatus by a wide-eyed stare in 
 silence, broken at last by rapturous praise of his knowledge and his 
 memory (i. 24. I) 2 . 
 
 Macrobius frankly avows that the conversation never took place, 
 and he even says he is not sure that all his characters could very well 
 have met for such a purpose. For they are all, so far as we know, 
 real people, most of them undoubtedly so. And in this, in spite of 
 passages where we forget it is dialogue, lies some of the value of the 
 book. The characters were deliberately chosen for their parts, and 
 we may thus use Macrobius to supplement what we learn elsewhere. 
 So the book, with all its faults, illustrates the age, its tastes and 
 feelings, social, literary, philosophical and religious. 
 
 The supposed gathering may, M. Emile Thomas says :i , be dated 
 380. To some of the characters I have already alluded. Two 
 remain to be considered. One is the grammarian Servius, who is 
 
 1 Nettleship, Essays, i. p. 213, on Verrius Flaccus. 
 
 2 Yet we should remember that even grammarians like rhetoricians would 
 sometimes improvise in the theatre addresses in comment on some passage 
 supplied at the moment; see Rohde, der Gr. Roman, p. 309, n. 1. 
 
 3 Scoliastes de Virgile, p. 135.
 
 Macrobius 175 
 
 introduced as a young but very learned man. He is loth to speak 
 among a company so eminent for learning and divine lore, and has to 
 be pressed to conquer his blushes. It is curious to note that when the 
 modest scholar does open his mouth, Macrobius puts some passages 
 of Gellius into it. One of these may be taken as a fair illustration 
 of Macrobius' method. Gellius says : " Some grammarians of former 
 times, men of learning and of note, among them Cornutus Annaeus 
 [the teacher of Persius], criticize the word vexasse in the following 
 passage as carelessly used and without distinction" and so forth, to 
 which he replies at some length. Macrobius lets Avienus make the 
 criticism in the terms used by Gellius, and Servius the reply, 
 sticking as closely to the Noctes. It is much as if one introduced 
 a living scholar into a dialogue to-day and gave him some pages of 
 Bentley or Ussher to recite without more ado. There are also 
 coincidences between Macrobius and the Commentary of Servius, 
 but opinions vary as to whether Macrobius quotes that work, or 
 whether it at a later date was enriched or enlarged by an editor 
 adding matter from the Saturnalia. 
 
 But perhaps the most interesting character in the book, though 
 not in life, is Evangelus. His introduction like so much else is due 
 to Gellius. In the Noctes, says Professor Nettleship 1 , "as a foil to 
 the instructed scholar or philosopher, there appears a conceited or 
 affected or generally unseasonable individual, whose delusions are 
 exposed by the light of superior wisdom." This person is generally 
 young and often a schoolmaster. In Macrobius the part is played 
 by Evangelus, in whose name some have found a reference to the 
 Gospel quite unnecessarily. Evangelus is fully as unconscious of 
 Christianity as the rest, and indeed displays some recondite acquain- 
 tance with pagan ritual in his attempt to reply to Praetextatus' 
 praise of Virgil. But he is not merely the holder of shocking and 
 even impossible opinions about Virgil, for his manners are monstrous. 
 About the others there is a prodigious politeness quite in the style 
 of Symmachus' letters. He is frankly rude, even to the point of 
 brutality. The repugnance, involuntarily displayed by the guests 
 when he enters, warns the reader what to expect. And, most curious 
 of all, he too seems to be a real person, to whom Symmachus in one 
 of his letters attributes an incautus animus 2 . 
 
 1 Essays, i. p. 238. 
 
 2 Ep. vi. 7. This quality is getting Evangelus into danger in his wild 
 attempt, despite the roads, to attend Honorius' fourth installation as consul. 
 Is he or another the homo won amicus there mentioned?
 
 Life and Letters in the Fourth Cenhirif 
 
 The scene of the dialogue is the feast of the Saturnalia, and the 
 guests meet in succession during the three days at the houses of 
 Praetextatus, Flavian and Symmachus. The conversations, or 
 dissertations, range over literature (which is summed up in Virgil), 
 science, manners, morals and religion. Without attempting to keep 
 to the order of proceedings, we may deal with the book as a whole 
 with reference to these points. 
 
 The work may be regarded as a sort of Institutio of the Roman 
 gentleman a presentment of what he should be and what he should 
 know. Yet it is surprising how little is said or thought of Rome, of 
 political life, or duty to State and Empire, or even of the significance 
 of Rome. It is away from such things that attention is directed 
 they were not safe subjects perhaps for Roman society. Praetextatus 
 is represented (i. 7, 5) as disturbed at the suggestion that they were 
 discussing anything the world might not hear. The complete 
 gentleman is to live rather in the past than the present, and he is 
 not to take part in public life 1 . It may of course be said that 
 after all literature and not statecraft was Macrobius' theme, but 
 with all the ebb and flow of the conversation it never touches 
 matters of public concern. Some slight reference is made in the 
 commentary on Scipio's dream to a life of action in the public 
 interest, but that is involved by the text and but lightly treated. In 
 Symmachus' letters, in like manner, politics are avoided. In fact 
 they were dangerous. 
 
 The complete gentleman's education is developed along two 
 lines antiquarianism and Neo-Platonism, generally with Virgil as 
 a text-book. The whole is slavish and mechanical. " The fruit of 
 reading is to emulate what you find good in others, and by dexterous 
 borrowing to turn to your own use what you most admire in other 
 people's utterances" (vi. 1, 2). What did this mean in literature? 
 An extraordinary devotion to the superficial, phrase-hunting, 
 grammatical and lexicographical pedantry of the most unfmitful 
 type. One of the earliest discussions turns on the expressions 
 noctu futura and die crastini (i. 4). When one of the 
 party makes a stand for modern speech and old manners, his 
 utterance is from Gellius, and where the unacknowledged quotation 
 ends, in comes another archaism, which has likewise to be discussed 
 (milk verborum est, i. 5, 3). 
 
 1 Not so Synesius, though a Neo-Platonist too. See his spirited letter to his 
 brother (Ep. 107) on his duty to fight the barbarian invaders at the risk of 
 incurring the Government's displeasure.
 
 Macrobins 177 
 
 From this it is but a step to etymology, and if ever and again 
 we are amazed, we must remember that we are not ourselves so 
 very long emancipated from the Philology that is not comparative. 
 Nigidius is twice quoted on the letter D. Janus and Diana are the 
 same, we are told, " with the addition of D which is often added to 
 the letter I by way of adorning it (causa decoris) as in reditur 
 redhibetur etc." (i. 8. 8). Bidentes means sheep two years old, repre- 
 senting bidennes, D being superfluously introduced to avoid hiatus, 
 as in redamare, redire etc. (vi. 9. 6). April is from Aphrilis, from 
 the Greek d<po9, with a reference by Romulus to the mother of 
 Aeneas (i. 12. 8). The Ides are so called because we see the full 
 moon (videre, compare the Greek tSetv, i. 15, 16). Artemis cuts 
 the air and is properly Aerotemis (i. 15, 20), an old derivation 
 quoted by Clement of Alexandria (668 P) '. 
 
 Meantime what of literature, that we may vindicate the name 
 from grammarians ? With his treatment of Virgil I shall deal later. 
 For the rest, the ordinary student need only turn to van Jan's 
 index or Eyssenhardt's (which I think is the same, abridged to the 
 reader's loss) to find himself in a new world, and, amid a multitude 
 of obscure names which he does not know, he looks in wonder for 
 those he does. Apart from Virgil and Cicero, where are the other 
 familiar names? Where are Livy, Ovid, Tibullus, Propertius? They 
 are not mentioned. Catullus and Horace have two references each. 
 Of the "silver age," Silius, Statius, Valerius Flaccus and Tacitus do 
 not occur ; Persius only once, Juvenal three times, and Lucan once 
 (to correct him). Hosts of forgotten grammarians and teachers are 
 found but not Quintilian. Professor Nettleship explains this 2 . In 
 the second century and onward interest in the Latin schools was 
 lost for all literature after Virgil's day, and diverted to the prae- 
 Augustan writers, and Macrobius is heir to this conservative or 
 reactionary feeling. Ausonius has a pleasant little poem addressed 
 to one of his professors, whose bent was in this direction. Victorius 
 was assiduous in forgotten books and never read anything but what 
 was obscure ; worm-eaten, ancient parchments, prehistoric pontifical 
 lore, anything and everything rather than Tully or Virgil 3 . For 
 
 1 Etymology broke out in the epics of the day. Nonnus in his Dionysiaca, 
 the longest of all Greek epics, explains that the Nile is so called from the new 
 mud it brought with it (vfa l\fa, iii. 275) ; he derives Dionysus from Zeus and 
 vuaos OTL 7\itKT(777 2vpa.KOffffidi xwXos dKovei (ix. 20). Porphyry also uses etymology 
 to elicit hidden truths from most unlikely quarters. 
 
 2 Essays, i. p. 284 f. (on Nonius Marcellus). 
 
 3 Professores 22. 
 
 G. 12
 
 178 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Macrobius however all centres in Virgil. There is no attempt to 
 appreciate or even to explain the other authors. They with Homer 
 merely serve to illustrate Virgil. This word is from one author, 
 that passage is copied from another. 
 
 The reader is surprised to find in the last book a good deal of 
 what, for want of a better word, we may call science. It is certainly 
 not systematic. Various guests propound to Disarms the physician 
 questions prompted by their own fancy or some casual experience. 
 In reality most of them come straight from Plutarch, who is of 
 course not named. Is a simple or a varied diet better for the 
 digestion ? Disarms is for the former with a special caution against 
 "mixing drinks" (vii. 4, 7), while Eustathius stands up stoutly for 
 the latter. Why do women rarely get drunk and old men easily ' ? 
 Is it because women's systems are moister or because they are 
 warmer? Why do you become giddy if you spin round? Why is 
 honey best when fresh and wine when old? Why is the ring worn 
 on the finger next the little finger of the left hand? Egyptian 
 anatomists say a sinew comes direct there from the heart (vii. 13, 8), 
 but Ateius Capito, following the Etruscans, says the left hand is less 
 used, and the particular finger neither too large nor too small, so 
 the jewel is safer there than elsewhere. Why does game decay 
 more quickly in moonlight than sunlight, and why does a brass 
 knife stuck in it stop decay 2 ? The answers to these and similar 
 questions are astounding, but they come largely from Plutarch, and 
 the scientists of the dialogue have a confidence about them, which 
 reminds the modern reader of his own day. 
 
 There is a long discourse on the Roman calendar, but that was 
 rather an antiquarian than a scientific subject, so Macrobius handles 
 it fully and freely. He seems to have been much interested in 
 Astronomy, of which we have a good deal in the Commentary, and 
 here he is as clear and lucid as (apart from Physiology) he generally 
 is. His system was that of his day and he really appears to have 
 understood the subject, and what he has to say he sets forth easily 
 and ably. 
 
 Macrobius and sometimes the guests lay down rules of manners, 
 
 1 Petit, op. cit. c. ix. p. 98, mentions that this discussion was copied oat by 
 Abelard for Heloise. Macrobius took it from Plutarch (Convivial Questions, 
 iii. 3), who implies that the question was asked by Aristotle but not answered. 
 A splendid history for a triviality. 
 
 2 I am told that the first part of this is a fact in dry hot Southern climates, 
 but probably not in Italy nor in Greece. Hence it may be asked whence 
 Plutarch got it. For the brass knife I have found no advocate.
 
 Macrobius 179 
 
 which after all have a more permanent value than much of their 
 science. "Conversation at a banquet should be as pure in its 
 moral tone as attractive by its charm" (i. 1, 4). The narrator is 
 particular to emphasize that this is not a record " of meat and drink, 
 though they too were there in abundance and propriety" (i. 2, 12). 
 This point is repeated. Society has so far advanced that when it 
 reads the old sumptuary laws of the republic it does not know what 
 dish is meant by this or that term (iii. 17, 12), and is lost in 
 astonishment at "the slavish gluttony of that age" (iiu 16, 11). 
 "Peacocks' eggs, which used to sell at five denarii apiece, I will not 
 say they are sold cheaper to-day, they are not on the market at all" 
 (iii. 13, 2). 
 
 "Those centuries, which by their blood or their sweat won the 
 Empire," had no doubt their virtues, but their vices shock their 
 posterity. Times have improved at whose banquet do you find 
 dancer or dancing-girl? Yet in those evil days sons of senators 
 and noble ladies danced and used castanets, and Macrobius cites 
 his authorities, and the unfortunate Sallust has his usual rebuke 
 "a weighty critic and censor of other people's luxury" (iii. 13, 9) 1 . 
 
 After all this, the "jokes" of book ii. strike the reader oddly. 
 "When moderation had put an end to the reasonable succession of 
 dishes (castimoniam ferculorum) and convivial mirth sprang up from 
 the tiny cups," Symmachus proposed "humour without impro- 
 priety" (alacritatem lascivia carentem). They are in turn to 
 produce the best jokes of famous men which they have found in 
 their reading "a lettered lightness and learned quips." His own 
 first contribution and some of the others would certainly be relegated 
 to the smoke-room to-day. We have, after a series of miscellaneous 
 jokes, collections of witticisms of Cicero, Augustus and Julia an 
 odd mixture of indecency and the handbook. 
 
 In the seventh book, however, the whole subject of tact at table 
 is discussed on the lines of Plutarch, who is closely followed 2 . The 
 first thing is to know your company, and then draw them out. 
 Men like to talk of themselves, but not wishing to seem vain prefer 
 to be asked to speak of their brilliant deeds in battle, their travels 
 in unknown lands, their afflictions in days gone by, "how they 
 
 1 Against Macrobius the hostile critic will be able to cite Ammianus and 
 Jerome, while Claudian will furnish instances of enormous and tasteless 
 expenditure. 
 
 2 Quaest. Conviv. ii. 1. It is interesting to note Macrobius' insertion of an 
 apposite line from Virgil (forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit) after Plutarch's 
 quotation from Euripides (ws i)S6 rot audtvra, (j.e/j.vijff6ai ir6vuv), 
 
 122
 
 180 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 successfully discharged the embassy, how they were presented to 
 the Emperor and most courteously received, and how, when the whole 
 fleet was boarded by pirates 1 , they alone by their cunning or their 
 valour escaped" (vii. 2, 11). Never ask a man a question before 
 people, unless you know he can answer it and answer it well, for 
 men do not like to confess ignorance (ib. 5). But ask the hunter 
 about hunting, and if a religious person (relief iosus) is there, let him 
 have a chance to tell "by what observances he has won help from 
 the gods, what results his ceremonies brought him, for they count 
 it a religious duty not to be silent about the benefits the gods give 
 them, beside liking to be thought favourites of heaven" (vii. 2, 13). 
 The reason given is Macrobius' own and suggests that his feeling 
 is not quite the same as Plutarch's, but if commentary is needed, 
 the inscriptions on the monument of Praetextatus and his wife 
 suffice 2 . 
 
 One must be careful, we learn, in badinage not to hit too hard 
 and to beware of sore subjects. On minor misfortunes such as 
 baldness or a head shaped like Socrates' a man may be quizzed, 
 but not on such grave ones as the loss of an eye. The man who 
 jokes must not even in play charge a man with vices he has. That 
 is "bad form," but it will not be amiss to tax a man of stainless 
 character with his immoralities, or to remind a wealthy man of his 
 creditors. Above all the company and time and place must be 
 considered. One may safely make game of a man in his wife's 
 presence for being uxorious, but some jokes one had better reserve. 
 
 As a model of bad manners Evangelus is exhibited. He inter- 
 rupts conversation recklessly, and contradicts grave and learned 
 gentlemen who reply with a smile which should serve as a correction 
 but does not. He sneers at slaves and calls for wine and plenty of 
 it (indulgere, flagrare vino ii. 8, 4). He insults the Greek guests 
 on the score of their race, their national loquacity and love of 
 display (vii. 5, 1 and 16, 1). Contrasted with his conduct is the 
 uniform suavity and graciousness of the other guests toward him 
 a silent lesson to Eustachius. 
 
 Morals and religion are touched on here and there. Evangelus' 
 ridicule of the idea that the gods could stoop to care for slaves calls 
 forth from Praetextatus a speech in the slaves' behalf. He pleads 
 in eloquent language (borrowed from Seneca, Ep. 47) their common 
 
 1 Apart from the novels, which swarm with pirates, and one simile in 
 Claudian, I do not remember any other reference to them in the works of this 
 period, and these pirates are borrowed from Plutarch (Qu. Conviv. ii. 1, 3). 
 
 2 See essay on Symmachus, pp. 1G3, 164.
 
 Macrobius 181 
 
 humanity, their possible freedom and greatness of mind, their faith- 
 fulness and goodness; and supports his statements with historical 
 illustrations (from Gellius and elsewhere) '. Praetextatus also gives 
 a long discourse on the gods, shewing in turn how Apollo, Bacchus, 
 Mars, Mercury, Hercules, Serapis, Osiris, Pan, Saturn, Jove, the 
 Assyrian Adad and others are all equivalents of the Sun and of one 
 another. This was one part of the faith of later Paganism 2 . More 
 is said about it in the Commentary. It may be noted however 
 that in both works Macrobius writes rather from the point of view 
 of philosophy than of devotion. He has not the moral enthusiasm 
 of Plutarch, the fervent pietism of Julian or the mysticism of Hermes 
 Trismegistus. There is the chill of the pedagogue about him. The 
 equations of heaven are interesting to him and so are the rites of 
 old Rome. To judge from his treatment of the old religion, the 
 new was quite beyond his comprehension. 
 
 Almost all that a man needs to know he will find, according to 
 Macrobius, in Virgil explicitly or by implication. This brings us 
 to a consideration of his work as a critic of Virgil work for which 
 he is in large measure disqualified by his want of discrimination 
 by what Gibbon calls "the blind superstition of a commentator 3 ." 
 Like many before him and many more after his day, he found in 
 Virgil a pedant, an encyclopaedist. Virgil knew all learning (i. 16, 
 12), never went wrong (Gomm. ii. 8, 1), was a master in priestly 
 lore (S. i. 24, 16) and delighted to introduce it into his poetry along 
 with astronomy, philosophy, and all sorts of gleanings from Greek 
 and Latin literature and oratory. It is Virgil's learning that appeals 
 to him rather than his poetry, and while there is much truth in 
 what he says of Virgil's felicity in using his knowledge of antiquity 
 and literature, it is absurd to make it, as he does, Virgil's chief 
 claim to distinction. Still he does not stand alone in tliis ; he is 
 following a tradition. The excessive attention given to rhetoric in 
 the schools had so far perverted Roman taste that perfection of 
 language linked to wide information was all that was asked of a 
 poet. It is enough to read a book of Lucan to see this. How 
 
 1 The equality before God of slave and freeman was a Neo-Platonic doctrine. 
 Synesius says (Drcaiits, c. 8, 1301 D) it matters nothing to God, which is the 
 Eteobutades and which the new-bought drudge Manes. Cf. his relations with 
 his own slaves (Ep. 145) who are treated as equals and love him as an elected 
 chief. 
 
 2 So Gasquet in his interesting essay on Mithras (Revue des deux Mondes, 
 1st April, 189!l), calls Macrobius "le thSoricien par excellence du syncretisme 
 paien. Ses Saturnales en sont le manifeste." 
 
 3 Gibbon, ch. xxxii. n. 3.
 
 182 Life and Letters m the Fourth Century 
 
 many Roman poets find their highest eulogy in the word doctusl 
 To prove Virgil doctus, grammarians had for centuries busied them- 
 selves with the letter till they had forgotten the spirit. The 
 popularity of Statius, says Comparetti 1 , proved the want of real 
 poetic feeling in Rome ; and in the three centuries between Statius 
 and Macrobius there had been nothing to quicken it. Here as else- 
 where Macrobius held he was best serving the present by echoing 
 the past 2 . 
 
 Of course Virgil is compared with Homer, but the criticism hardly 
 rises so high as Dry den's contrast of "majesty" and "loftiness of 
 thought." It is rather that Virgil, carried away, and sometimes 
 too far, by a desire to emulate Homer, imitates this, that and the 
 other passage or line ; and here he is superior, there equal and in a 
 third place inferior to his model. It is very systematically done, 
 for the Aeneid is taken book by book, and the parallels are pointed 
 out. There are no doubt flashes of light here and there, and good 
 points are brought out 3 , but in the end the reader is not a whit 
 nearer a general judgment on the work of the two poets. 
 
 Virgil's knowledge of pontifical law is illustrated by the citation 
 of passages containing priestly word and phrase used in their just 
 and proper senses. Here Evangelus protests and cites instances to 
 prove Virgil was not universally careful in these matters. The 
 attempt is made to rebut the charge, but, though there is an un- 
 happy break in the MSS, one has the impression that Virgil's 
 advocate is dealing with him as old-fashioned apologists did with 
 the Old Testament. The answers are too subtle, too clever. For 
 example, Evangelus quotes Aeneid iii. 21 
 
 caelicolum regi mactabam in litore taurum, 
 
 and cites Ateius Capito to shew that a bull is not sacrificed to Jove. 
 "Quite so," rejoins Praetextatus, "Virgil in view of the horror to 
 follow (the blood of Polydore) introduced the bull a blunder, which 
 according to Ateius is expiable, and which is here deliberately 
 committed to lead up to the marvel" (iii. 10, 3 7). 
 
 1 I may generally refer the reader to the first five chapters of Comparetti's 
 most interesting book on Vergil in the Middle Ages. Part n. c. 1 may be 
 consulted for the medieval view of Virgil as an outcome of that held by 
 Macrobius and his school. 
 
 - Perhaps he was, when men ranked Ausonius as equal to Virgil. How is it 
 that both Macrobius and Syinmachus ignore Claudian ? 
 
 3 He remarks, e.g. (v. 16, 8) that Fortuna or TAxn is a power unknown to 
 Homer. (See Kohde, der Griechisclie Roman, ii. 4, p. 276, on the progress of 
 this " junge Gottin.") Macrobius following the " philosophers " takes a diametri- 
 cally opposite view of her to that of Quiutus.
 
 Macrobius 183 
 
 An illustration may serve to shew his method of displaying 
 Virgil's correctness. He twice quotes with the same explanation 
 
 the line 
 
 interea magnum sol circumvolvitur annum 
 
 (Aen. iii. 284; Sat. i. 14, 5; Comm. ii. 11, 6). It refers to the 
 period of Aeneas' wanderings and his arrival at Actium. Conington 
 finds in magnum an ornamental epithet ; Wakefield (cited by him) 
 a reference to the feeling of an exile, which I think not unlikely in 
 view of Virgil's constant recurrence to thoughts of exile. Macrobius 
 explains annus as a revolution, brevis annus being that of the moon, 
 i.e. a month, magnus annus that of the sun, i.e. so many lunar 
 months plus some days. Thus magnus has no reference to Aeneas' 
 exile, but is a technical term of Astronomy. 
 
 He prefers the Catalogue in the second book of the Iliad to 
 Virgil's in the seventh Aeneid, because it is systematic, while 
 Virgil forgets the map and mentions places as they occur to him, 
 introducing elaborately warriors who never appear again, and for- 
 getting others whose names should be there (v. 15, 16). Thus 
 what is to modern readers the charm of the passage, Virgil's 
 affectionate and intimate knowledge of Italy displayed as he lingers 
 over this place and that, each with its memories of ancient glories 
 of his people, of happy days he himself has known amid streams 
 and woods and vineyards all this goes for nothing ; his geography 
 is poor. 
 
 So much for Italy, and what of Rome? 
 
 Romanos rerum dominos gentemque togatum 
 
 What has he to say about such a line? "Virgil appropriately used 
 the epithet gens togata for the Romans, for Laberius used it in his 
 Ephebus: togatae stirpis; and lower down dilatatum est dominium 
 togatae gentis." He is not concerned to speak of Virgil's conception 
 of Rome giving 'peace and order to the world. He reads his poet 
 carefully and comments on a thousand passages, but the great 
 fundamental thought that fills and animates the work tantae molis 
 erat Romanam condcre gentem utterly escapes him. It was not 
 so with all Virgil's readers of the day. This thought is caught by 
 Prudentius and Claudian, and each in his own way developes it, 
 but these men were poets and Macrobius was a commentator. The 
 scribe is tithing mint and anise and cummin, and the greater matters 
 of the law escape him. 
 
 Again, the Aeneid has been called the epic of human life.
 
 184 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 More than in any Roman poet or indeed any poet of antiquity we 
 find in Virgil the sense of human limitations "the pain of finite 
 hearts that yearn " coupled with admiration for those who do their 
 proper work faithfully and manfully. Tennyson gives the truth of 
 the matter in his description of Virgil : 
 
 "Thou majestic in thy sadness at the doubtful doom of human kind." 
 Macrobius, in illustrating Virgil's faithfulness to the canons of 
 rhetoric, picks out a series of passages to illustrate pathos, as he 
 does with the other emotions 1 . This is easy to do, but one might 
 almost say he is more conscious of the successful artifice than of the 
 depth of feeling. He judges the expression more as a telling appeal 
 addressed to an audience than as a poet's interpretation of human 
 life. The exquisite language charms him, but he is not greatly 
 moved by the sorrow and the love which animate it. 
 
 It may be doubted whether Macrobius really appreciated Virgil 
 as Augustine did. Thus Macrobius writes: "Virgil so far improved 
 on his model [Apollonius] (elegant ins auctore), that the story of the 
 wantoning Dido, which everybody knows to be false, has passed for 
 true through all these centuries, and it is still popularly accounted 
 true, so that painters and sculptors and workers in embroidery employ 
 this theme as if there were no other. So greatly has the beauty of 
 the telling prevailed that all men, knowing as they do the chastity of 
 the Phoenician queen and well aware that she laid hands on herself 
 to save her fair fame 2 , yet let the story pass and prefer to suppress 
 the truth, and allow that to be believed which the sweetness of the 
 poet has implanted in people's breasts" (pectoribus humanis dulcedo 
 fingentis infudit, Sat. v. 17, 5 6). St Augustine is not writing 
 about Virgil heaven forbid! but he remembers his introduction 
 to him. How he had hated the jingle of the school " Two and two 
 make four" ; and how he had loved the literature the grammarian 
 taught him the tale of the wooden horse, the burning of Troy and 
 ipsius umbra Creusae! (Conf. i. 13, 22 and 20). And he had 
 "wept for Dido dead, because she slew herself for love, though 
 meanwhile I saw myself in all this dying away from Thee, God 
 my life, and my eyes were dry unhappy man ! What could be 
 more pitiable than an unhappy man not pitying himself, and 
 weeping Dido's death which came of loving Aeneas, but not weeping 
 
 1 See Comparetti, op. cit. p. 69 : " While the rhetoricians in forming their 
 laws had quoted Virgil as their chief authority, Macrobius now praises Virgil for 
 having observed the laws of rhetoric." 
 
 2 Cf. Aug. Conf. i. 13, 22, and Ausonius' epigram from the Greek, Anth. 
 Plan. iv. 151.
 
 Macrobius 185 
 
 his own death which came of not loving Thee, God?" (Conf. 
 i. 13, 21). Both men know the tale is untrue, and one asks Why 
 did I weep ? the other, Why is it such a favourite with artists ? 
 
 On the other hand, though Macrobius lacks the highest gifts of 
 insight and inspiration, his work must be pronounced useful and 
 interesting. On the lower plane which is more to his mind he has 
 done good service in diligently collecting and gracefully presenting 
 much valuable matter in illustration of Virgil. He shews us at 
 once the tastes of the cultivated society of his day and the traditions 
 of the best scholarship of the Empire. The weapons of the stone 
 age are not perhaps very serviceable to-day but they have their 
 importance, and so in other things a man, who will, even at the cost 
 of the expression of himself, let us see vividly and clearly some 
 former stage in the history of culture, is doing us good service. 
 The faults we find in his work are largely those of his day and of 
 his profession. If we to-day judge the grammarian almost as hardly 
 as he judged the litteratores, those schoolmasters who won the 
 scholar's contempt by trying to pass off their ignorance as omni- 
 science ; if even the higher work of the better teachers as shewn by 
 Macrobius and Ausonius seems to us wanting in soul and feeling, 
 we must remember Augustine's gratitude to the grammaticus who 
 taught him Virgil. No doubt the great man thanks his teacher 
 for much which he owes to himself, still there must have been 
 quickening elements in the teaching. Augustine was surely not the 
 only student, who wept for Dido, who was stirred to higher life and 
 thought by such books as the Hortensius. We shall see that 
 Macrobius in his own way believed in the things that are more 
 excellent. 
 
 He had not Augustine's endowment, his interest in everything, 
 his delicate sensibility to impressions, his feeling and imagination, 
 his passionate and emotional temperament, any more than his 
 strength of mind, his spiritual nature and his determination to reach 
 reality. Yet Macrobius was a man of feeling too, a good and 
 affectionate father, as we can see from his address to Eustachius, 
 and a conscientious teacher. There is, he says, no claim so great 
 as a child's upon a parent, and no pleasure or pain so keen as the 
 parent's according as he sees his labour of love for his child prosper 
 or fail (Sat. i. 1, 1). He has read and studied for his son, and 
 "all that I have" of history, literature, Greek and Latin, "is thine." 
 We can read his feelings on friendship in the pictures he draws of 
 the friends gathered at the Saturnalia. He has that mixture of
 
 186 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 amiability and a limitless readiness to take pains for those with 
 whom he has been brought in contact, with the want of sympathy 
 and even contempt for the unenlightened, the "outsider," which is 
 too apt to be found in the professional teacher in every age. 
 
 To Macrobius' Commentary we owe the preservation of Cicero's 
 Dream of Scipio, a part of the work De Kejmblica. It is in some 
 degree analogous to Plato's story of Er the Armenian. Scipio sees 
 in a dream his father Paulus and his (adoptive) grandfather Scipio 
 Africanus. He finds himself with them in the Milky Way, looking 
 down upon the earth, which he thence realizes to be but a tiny portion 
 of space, and the Roman part of it still more insignificant. The 
 sense of infinite time is brought home to him, and he is asked, 
 What is earthly glory ' ? A thing of narrow range and short duration. 
 What then is man's work and end ? The soul is divine and eternal, 
 and his soul is the man mem cujusque is est quisyue. A good 
 man's soul ascends from the prison house and chains of the body 
 to the galaxy there to enjoy eternal life, but he must not hasten his 
 departure, nor, without leave of him who assigned the station and 
 the duty, abandon them. The soul must contemplate what is 
 without and, while not cutting its connexion, must withdraw itself 
 from the body in meditation. The best work a man can undertake 
 is the welfare of his country. "That you may be the keener to 
 guard the state, Africanus, know this : that for all who have saved, 
 helped or increased their country, there is a fixed and definite place 
 in heaven, where in happiness they may enjoy eternal life. For to 
 that supreme God who rules the universe, there is nothing of all 
 that is on earth more grateful than those gatherings and ordered 
 societies of men (coetus hominum jure sociati) which are called states. 
 Their rulers and saviours proceed hence and return again hither" 
 (Somnium 3, 1). 
 
 This work Macrobius took as his text, and as sometimes happens 
 the commentary is out of all proportion. It is here sixteen or 
 seventeen times the length of the text. It is heavily weighted with 
 digressions on every conceivable excuse. Without them it would be 
 a better proportioned book, but certainly less interesting. So many 
 subjects are handled and with such fulness of detail that the work 
 has a substantive value of its own as a repository of popularized 
 
 1 This line of reflexion recurs in Boethius' Consolation of Philosophy, ii. 7, 
 in a passage recalling Cicero's story; and in a very different work, the Life of 
 Antony, cc. 16, 17, it may he found again, pointing another moral ascetic 
 monachism, which is perhaps only an alternative route to the same goal in 
 eternal life.
 
 Macrobius 187 
 
 Neo-Platonism. As such indeed it had considerable use in the 
 Middle Ages 1 . Myths (dealt with by Julian in his seventh Oration}, 
 dreams (the subject of a work of Synesius), numbers and their 
 spiritual significances, the Milky Way, the horizon, eclipses, the 
 moon, the motions of the celestial spheres, the stars, the origin of 
 their names and the possibilities of their influencing or predicting 
 the course of human life (a subject that much interested Augustine 
 in his Platonist days) 2 , the sizes of the sun and of the earth, and 
 their distance from each other, the mapping of the Zodiac, the 
 distribution of matter, the music of the spheres with incidental 
 reference to the influence of music generally, the zones of the world 
 and the antipodes, tides and their origin all these themes are 
 treated at length by Macrobius on pretexts arising from Cicero's 
 little story. "Truly therefore we must pronounce that there is 
 nothing more complete than this work, in which is comprised the 
 whole range of philosophy " (universa philosophiae integritas, Comm. 
 ii. 17, 17). In plain terms he is treating Cicero here as he did 
 Virgil, though the Dream really does give him openings more strictly 
 legitimate for the propagation of knowledge, which is usually bor- 
 rowed but not always accurate". 
 
 I shall not follow him into his digressions, nor give in detail 
 his discussions even of more vital matters, but I shall endeavour to 
 sketch in outline the general results of his philosophy or, to give it 
 the name it better deserves at this period of heathenism, his theology. 
 Though a good deal of it is present in germ in Cicero, taken of 
 
 1 St Thomas Aquinas cites it as his authority on Neo-Platonic teaching 
 about the primum ens, and Abelard often refers to Macrobius "no mean 
 philosopher" finding, e.g. an exposition of the Trinity in his God, vovs and 
 anima. See Petit, op. cit. c. ix. and pp. 72, 79. Interest iu Macrobius declined 
 with the revival of the study of Greek, as befel with another Neo-Platonist, an 
 even greater favourite in the Middle Ages, Boethius. 
 
 2 Macrobius (C. i. 19, 20 27) seems to incline to the view of Plotinus (to 
 whom he refers, Enn. ii. 3) that the stars like birds enable us to foresee, but do 
 not themselves affect, our future. So Ammianus (xx. 1, 9) expounds augury, 
 finding its ultimate cause in beniyititas numinis and the divine interest in man. 
 Porphyry (de Abntinentia iii. 5) says the gods if silent yet give warnings, which 
 birds understand more quickly than men and then tell us as well as they can. 
 "All things " says Synesius (Dreams, c. 2, 1285 i>) "prophesy through all, since 
 all are kin, that are in the one living creature, the universe." There are 
 responses as between the chords of a lyre, and so conversely men can influence 
 the gods by certain means, i.e. magic a view Synesius later on renounced, as 
 Augustine did all astrology (Con/, vii. 6, 8 and G. D. v. 1 f.). How great a feat 
 it was to do this is shewn by Ammianus (xxviii. 4, 24) "Many in Rome, who 
 deny that there are higher powers in heaven, will not go out of doors, nor dine, 
 nor indeed think it quite safe even to bathe, until they have carefully consulted 
 an almanack and learnt where e.g. Mercury is, etc." 
 
 3 The reader may be referred to Petit, c. v.
 
 188 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 course from Greek thinkers, its development is Neo-Platonic, and it 
 constantly points to its origin in the general teacliing of Plotinus 
 and his school 1 . 
 
 How far Neo-Platonism by process of borrowing or of original 
 reflexion reached its degree of likeness to Oriental modes of thought, 
 this is hardly the place to discuss. But one thing at least in the 
 Commentary stands out in marked contrast with the text. The 
 heaven of which Cicero speaks is pre-eminently for patriots, servants 
 of their country, for men of action in virtue of their life of political 
 well-doing ; with Macrobius the influence of Neo-Platonism is so 
 strong that, though such men have a share in his heaven, they 
 hardly enter it and in spite of their taking part in public life. It is 
 no longer a help, it is a hindrance. We find this in other Neo- 
 Platonists 2 . The hymns of Synesius, which are really prayers, ask 
 for nothing so much as for freedom from anxieties and disturbing 
 cares. "When pressure is put upon him to become a bishop, his 
 great dread is that this will drag him into the world, into affairs, 
 and lessen and destroy the leisure and calm of mind essential to his 
 spiritual life. It is playing with his own soul for other people's 
 political and social necessities. He made the sacrifice, however, like 
 the Spartan he was (Ep. 113). 
 
 The object of Macrobius' Commentary is to reinforce the 
 doctrine of Plato and Cicero that there is a life beyond the grave 
 a doctrine in which he finds the very foundations of all morality 
 and of society itself. The story of Scipio's Dream, like the myth 
 of Er, is ridiculed, he knows, by the Epicureans, a flippant, loud- 
 voiced and perverse school ; but none the less it has "inexpugnable 
 reason" behind it. Less emphasized perhaps but not less real is 
 his aim to maintain the sufficiency of Neo-Platonism against 
 Christianity as well as against Epicureanism, both being hated by his 
 party 3 . 
 
 In outline Macrobius' system is as follows. The universe is one 
 vast whole, to be regarded in some sort as a temple (C. i. 14, 2) and 
 
 1 Petit c. vi. discusses Macrobius' philosophy, finding that here, as in 
 literary criticism, his work is second-hand. He gives other men's results as 
 dogmata, without much insight of his own. It should be remembered that he 
 is quite open about his dependence on "right thinkers," "Platonists," Plotinus, 
 etc. ; e.g. especially C. ii. 15, 2. "I do not forget myself so far, nor am I so ill 
 inspired as of my own ability either to oppose Aristotle or defend Plato." 
 
 2 Porphyry, de Abstin. i. 27, says he writes not for artisans, nor athletes, 
 nor soldiers, nor sailors, nor rhetoricians, nor rots rbv irpay^ariKov (llov tirave\o- 
 
 3 Cf. Lucian's Alexander 25 and 38, an interesting anticipation of Julian's 
 twin hatreds.
 
 Macrobins 189 
 
 eternal (C. ii. 10, 9). God is the first and the origin of all things 
 that are. By reason of the superabundant fertility of his majesty 
 he created Mind (mem or vovs) from himself. From Mind came 
 Soul (ammo) ; thence bodies, stars animated by divine intelligences, 
 and earthly bodies, human, animal and vegetable. Thus from the 
 supreme god down to the lowest dregs of the universe (ad- ultimam 
 rerum faecem) runs a connexion, holding itself together by mutual 
 links and never broken. This is Homer's golden chain, which he 
 says God bade hang from heaven to earth. There is a real kinship 
 between man and the stars 1 (C. i. 14, 6, 7, and 15). The aim of 
 his work is to shew that man is not only immortal but is god, the 
 real man not being what is seen, but that by which the seen is ruled, 
 his soul or anima in fact (C. ii. 12, 5 and 9). 
 
 Souls before they are ensnared by the desire for a body (necdum 
 desiderio corporis irretitae) dwell in the starry region of the universe 
 and thence sink down into bodies (C, i. 9, 10). I am not sure 
 whether this is to be lamented or not. By Synesius and to some 
 extent by Macrobius it is implied that this fall is not a happy thing 
 altogether. Yet nature to continue animal life has put such love 
 of the body into the soul that it loves its fetter and dislikes to leave 
 it (C. ii. 16, 19). It is however in reality a fall 2 , a death of the 
 soul (C. i. 10, 17 : 11, 1), but after all a temporary death (ad tempus 
 obruitur, C. i. 12, 17) 3 . Much has been said by the ancients and 
 many poetical descriptions put forth about things below, in/era, hell 
 or the grave. The body is the in/era of the soul, o-w/xa a body and 
 a-tjfjia a tomb meaning much the same thing (C. i. 10, 9 ff. and 11, 3). 
 There is yet another sense for in/era as we shall see. 
 
 So the soul passes through the Tropics as through gates into 
 this world (C. i. 12, 1 2), losing as it goes some of its memory of 
 things above 4 , "for if souls bore down into their bodies the memory 
 
 1 Thus Synesius (Ep. 100) playfully says he thinks the stars must look down 
 on him with kindly feelings as the only man in Cyrene who contemplates them 
 with understanding. In Hymn i. 80 100, he sets the same doctrine forth in 
 poetry of some beauty. 
 
 2 Porphyry (ad Marcellam 5) calls it a fall, rb els TTJJ/ ytveviv irru/j-a offov ical 
 olov TIIUV Tijr ^i>X'7 s trepiiffrij, though the gods do not forget us but are <rwr%>ej. 
 Naville (Saint-Augustin, p. 92) warns us that the analogy between this Ti-rw/xa 
 and Augustine's fall of man is much more apparent than real. The Neo- 
 Platonist does not or should not attach the idea T>f sin to it. 
 
 3 So Porphyry, de A ntro Nymphamm 10, cites Heraclitus, ffiv rjfias rdv tuelvw 
 (sc. \f/vx&v) OO.VO.TOV KO.I i)v (Kflvas rbv i)/j^Ttpov 8a.va.Tov. Plotinus, Enn. iv. 83 
 17 (sc. v^xi?) xal Stfffj.os TO ffwfta Kal Ta<f>os. 
 
 4 So Synesius (Dreams, 1296 B) teaches that the soul is led to choose slavery 
 by the gifts of matter (cf. i/Xa /*e /teryois iirtdriffe r^ais, Hymn. 3, 574), as if 
 contracting to be a slave for a term, and on entering bodily life it has to quaff a
 
 190 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 of the divine matters of which they were conscious in heaven, there 
 would he no difference of opinion among men about these things, 
 but all drink oblivion in their descent, some in a greater and others 
 in a less measure" (C. i. 12, 9). The soul then finds itself below, 
 with some memory of heavenly things and a strong love of the body, 
 and as it is ruled by the one or the other it rises or falls (C. i. 11, 11). 
 Contempt for the world and a heavenward aspiration help it upward. 
 Those alone are happy who live in the contemplation of things above 
 (superna) and diligently seek after them and as far as may be imitate 
 them 1 (C. i. 8, 3). Those who can escape public affairs, and purging 
 themselves of the contagion of the body strive by flight from human 
 things 2 to find their place among divine, have really advanced 
 (C. i. 8, 8). For these may die to the world "we use the word 
 dying too, when the soul still domiciled in the body is taught by 
 philosophy and spurns the allurements of the body and rids itself 
 of the pleasant treachery of desires and all other passions 3 " (C. i. 
 13, 6). In such cases "conversation in heaven" may be reached, 
 "for souls, who in this life free themselves from the fetters of the 
 body by the death philosophy teaches, may, though the body yet 
 lives, take their place (inserantur) in heaven and among the stars" 
 (C. i. 13, 10) 4 . The universe is a temple of god ; all the visible is 
 his temple who is conceived by mind alone ; to him as its founder 
 
 cup of Lethe. Pleasure (D/o, 1129 B) is the brooch (irepbvrf) that binds soul to 
 body by divine arrangement. Cf. Porphyry, de Antr. Nymph. 16 5i' rj5oi>rj<; 
 SefffJififfOai KOLt KarayeffGai TO. 0eia ei's ytveffiv... 22 dvo o$v rcu/ras ZOevro TruXas 
 KapKivov Ka.1 aiyoKtpwv ol 6eo\6yoi...TOijT<i}i> 5 Kapidvov fj,fv eivai 5t' 08 Kariacnv at 
 \f/vxai, aiyoicp<j)i> St 3t' 08 avtacriv. 
 
 1 Synesius (Ep. 139) cites with approval this teaching of Plotinus, phrasing 
 it thus: rb ev ffavry 6elov &i>aye eirl rb irpwr&yovov delov. So far do they go that 
 Synesius (Ep. 137) maintains that right living, opOus PI.OVV, is useful merely as a 
 prelude to wisdom, irpooi/juov rov (fipoveiv. 
 
 2 Cf. Plotinus, Enn. i. 6, 8; Porphyry, ad Marc. 10 rrj /ieXerwo-T? (i.e. Marcella) 
 <f>etiyeit> airb TOV crw/iaros. 
 
 3 Porphyry, ad Marc. 7, on rising superior to pleasures. Cc. 12 if. present 
 a far loftier picture of right living than anything Macrobius says on the subject. 
 
 4 He uses a phrase curiously recalling Christian hymnody when he speaks of 
 the soul, after it has deserved to be purged from contagion, returning fully 
 restored to the fountain of eternal life ad perennis vitae fontem restituta in 
 integrum (C. i. 12, 17). Boethius, Cons. Phil. iv. metre 1, has a beautiful little 
 poem on the rising of the soul to the "dear lost land " (James 5 translation): 
 
 hue te si reducem referat via, 
 
 quam nunc requiris immeinor ; 
 haec dices, memini, patria est viihi, 
 
 hinc ortus hie sistam gradum. 
 
 Julian, Or. iv. 136 A, speaks of good men's souls ascending after death to 
 Serapis, who saves them from ytveffts thereafter, and brings them to the 
 intelligible world, ^60-^05 voyTfa.
 
 Macrobius 191 
 
 the highest worship is due, and whoever comes into this temple 
 must realize he has to live the priest's life (C. i. 14, 2) 1 . 
 
 The fruit of virtue lies in a good conscience (C. ii. 10, 2) but for 
 the wicked there is the more awful meaning of hell, the in/era. All 
 that the poets have said is but parable; Phlegethon and Acheron 
 mean but anger and sorrow, Styx whatever plunges men among 
 themselves into the whirlpool of hate. The vulture is but the 
 torture of conscience as it tears the guilty flesh, and with reminder 
 of past sin lacerates the vital parts without ceasing, ever waking 
 remorse anew should it seek to rest, never by any pity sparing 
 itself all in accordance with the law that no guilty man is ever 
 acquitted by himself [Juvenal xiii. 3], nor can escape his own sentence 
 on himself. So with the other penalties the guilty ever seem to 
 themselves on the brink of being overtaken by the ruin they deserve 2 . 
 No, the insight of the theologi is not in vain (C. i. 10, 12 15). 
 
 This is the view of the Neo-Platonists. Synesius makes a 
 somewhat playful allusion to it in a letter (32) about a bad slave 
 whom he does not punish "for his wickedness is sufficient punish- 
 ment for the wicked." More seriously elsewhere he represents 
 insensibility to evil, the absence of a desire to rise, as the last and 
 worst state of evil 3 . So too says Augustine, with that note of 
 experience which marks his theology, "Tnou hast ordained, and so 
 it is, that every disordered spirit is itself its own punishment" (Conf. 
 i. 12, 19). The direct way in which he makes this law the law of 
 God will strike the reader. It puts a different complexion on the 
 doctrine at once. Later on he sums it up more briefly, though hardly 
 more tellingly, peccatum poena, peccati. (See op. imp. c. Jul. i. 44 f.) 
 
 Suicide Macrobius, avowedly following Plotinus 4 , forbids on the 
 
 1 Porphyry, de Abstin. ii. 49 6 <j>t\6(ro<f>os /ecu Oeov TOV eirl irafftv iepevs: ii. 46 
 tv T(> vea) TOV TrcLTpbs r$ Kofffj-if TovTy. Synesius, Ep. 57, 1388 c $fav . . .uffirep ev 
 iepui Trept/36Xy ry KoafJUf. 
 
 2 The reader will remember the powerful lines of Persius iii. 35 43, his 
 picture of the last stage of damnation virtutem videant intabescantque relicta, 
 and the exclamation of the guilty imits, imus praecipites a passage to which 
 Augustine (C. D. ii. 7) refers with approval though he declares it was unproduc- 
 tive of effect in view of pagan stories of divine lust. Cf. Boethius, Cons. Phil. 
 iii. m. 8. 
 
 3 Dreams, 1293 D ; cf . Ep. 44, 1372 A, an important letter on the whole ques- 
 tion of retribution. Cf. the discussion of this in Boethius, Cons. Phil. iv. 4. 
 
 4 Porphyry, vita Plotini 11, says he thought of suicide but Plotinus came to 
 him and forbade him. Plotinus, Enn. i. 9 ' 5 olos ^Kaaros crt, ToiavTrjv fo^ei 
 e/cei ra^Lv, els rb irpoK^irreiv otfcrr/s e7rt56<rews OVK e^aKT^ov. Petit, op. cit. p. 75, 
 shews that Macrobius cites Porphyry's view (de Abstin. ii. 47) on the spirits of 
 suicides as Plotinus', a slip he attributes to memory, though in view of 
 Macrobius' methods one might suppose it due to an intermediary source. 
 This whole passage on suicide is quoted by Abelard (Petit, p. 79).
 
 192 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 ground that "since in the other life souls are to be rewarded for 
 the measure of perfection which they have attained in this, one 
 must not hasten the end of life while there is still a possibility of 
 further improvement. Nor is this idly said. For in the esoteric 
 discourses on the soul's return, it is said that those who sin 
 (delinquentes) in this life are like those who stumble upon level 
 ground, who can rise without difficulty ; but souls that leave this 
 life with the stains of sins upon them are to be compared to those 
 who fall sheer down from a great and precipitous height, where 
 there is no power to rise again" (C. i. 13, 15 16). Link to this his 
 doctrine of the eternity of the universe and of the soul (C. i. 1, 7 ; 
 14, 20), and his picture is not unlike Prudentius' description of the 
 horrors of eternal hell 1 . On the other hand, heaven, he says, is 
 closed to all but perfect purity (C. i. 13, 19). 
 
 Such is Macrobius' presentment of the doctrines of the Neo- 
 Platonists. It is a creed of great moral elevation with many 
 elements of value. Definite and explicit he escapes the vagueness 
 that so often vitiates the teaching of his school, of Trismegistus, for 
 instance ; while by skimming over the surface of things, as is his 
 wont, he seems to avoid the difficulties which a Plotinus presents. 
 Here at least Neo-Platonism is given in a form a plain man can 
 surely understand and readily put into action. What is wanting ? 
 
 I will only ask the reader to consider two contemporary criti- 
 cisms, if I may so call them both. On the funeral monument of 
 Praetextatus is given a list of his priesthoods and with it a more 
 impressive list of the mysteries into which he was initiated. What 
 had he to do with the rites of Bacchus and Eleusis, with Mithras 
 and the taivrobolium, when such a simple faith as this was before 
 him ? Or, to put it generally, why did theurgy so persistently dog 
 the steps of Neo-Platonism? Why was magic necessary to supple- 
 ment philosophy ? What is the meaning of the wistful prayerfulness 
 of Trismegistus, his desire for and belief in communion with a 
 personal God? Macrobius does not seem conscious of such things, 
 or, if he is, he rather inclines to disdain them (Sat. vii. 2, 13). 
 
 Augustine tells us how he read "certain books of the Platonists 
 
 1 Prudentius, Hamart. 825 839. A little lower Prudentius describes the 
 upward flight of the purified soul after death, unhampered by the body, in 
 language which recalls these doctrines set forth by Macrobius. See too Syne- 
 sius, Ep. 44, on punishment after death. Hermes Trismegistus (Ed. Bipont. 
 Apul. ii. p. 312) says guilty souls are condemned on an examination held by the 
 summits daemon ; ut in hoc obsit anhnae aeternitas, quod sit immortali sententia 
 aeterno supplicio subjugata. This he says is more to be feared than physical 
 death.
 
 Macrobius 193 
 
 translated from Greek into Latin," and was greatly helped by them. 
 From them he gained the first hint for his solution of the problem 
 of evil, with his doctrines of being and of order. Much that he 
 there learned abode with him for ever, but he was not satisfied. 
 The language in which he phrases his criticism is full of scriptural 
 metaphors, and may strike the Classical student as oddly as the 
 Scriptures did Augustine himself at first; yet in his own way 
 Augustine has felt and is expressing the real weakness of Neo- 
 Platonism. 
 
 "Those pages present not the image of this piety: the tears 
 of confession, Thy sacrifice, the troubled spirit, the contrite and 
 humbled heart, the salvation of the people, the Bride, the City, the 
 earnest of the Holy Spirit, the cup of our redemption. No one 
 there sings: 'Shall not my soul be submitted to God? From Him 
 is my salvation. For He is my God and my salvation, my guardian ; 
 I shall not be moved more' [Ps. Ixii. 1 2, Septuagint]. No one 
 there hears Him calling 'Come unto Me, ye who labour.' They 
 disdain to learn of Him for He is meek and humble of heart. For 
 Thou hast hidden these things from the wise and prudent and hast 
 revealed them unto babes" (Conf. vii. 21, 27). 
 
 G. 
 
 13
 
 CHAPTEE IX 
 
 ST AUGUSTINE S CONFESSIONS 
 
 \ 
 Foetus eram ipse mihi magna quaestio. 
 
 Conf. iv. 4, 9 
 
 OF all men of the fourth century St Augustine is the most 
 conspicuous 1 . It is not merely that in intellectual and spiritual 
 endowment he eclipses his contemporaries, but Harnack is un- 
 questionably right when he says that between St Paul and Luther 
 there is none that can be measured with Augustine. He gave 
 to Christian thought on God and man, on sin and grace, on 
 the world and the church, an impulse and a direction, the force 
 of which is still unspent. He shaped the Catholic theory of the 
 Church, he gave the great Popes the idea of the City of God, 
 of God's Empire, he was the father of the mystics, the founder 
 of the scholastic philosophy of the Middle Ages, and above all 
 the hero and master of the Renaissance and the Reformation. 
 He gave the Catholic Church the baleful doctrine " Compel them 
 to come in" ; he gave Calvin the doctrine of Predestination and he 
 was the only father from whom Luther really learnt. 
 
 1 The literature on St Augustine is immense. I have used for the purposes 
 of this essay Harnack, History of Dogma, section on St Augustine, and appendix 
 on Neo-Platonism ; also Harnack's separate lecture on the Confessions of 
 St Augustine; J. Keinkens, die Geschichtsphilosophie des hi. Aug.; Boissier, La 
 Fin du Paganisme, bk in. c. 3 on the Conversion of St Aug. (also in the Rerue 
 des Deux Mondes, 1 Jan. 1888, vol. 85, pp. 4369); E. Feuerlein, Ueber die 
 Stellung A.'s in der Kirchen- u. Culturgeschichte in Histor. Zeitschrift, vol. xxii. 
 (1869), pp. 270 313 ; Loofs, Art. on St Augustine in Herzog's Realencyklopfidie 
 (last ed.), vol. n. ; H. A. Naville, St Aug., jEtude sur le devehppement de sa pensee 
 jusqu'a Vepoque de son ordination, Geneve 1872; Mozley, Aiigustinian Doctrine 
 of Predestination; and some other books which I have used incidentally. Last, 
 but not least, I would mention the lectures (as yet unpublished) of my former 
 colleague, Dr John Watson, of Queen's University, Canada, from whom I have 
 had very great help.
 
 St Augustine's Confessions 195 
 
 But it is not with his theology or his philosophy or his influence 
 on the Church that we have here to deal. For the present we are 
 concerned with him as a man of letters, who with his wonderfully 
 full and various nature entered into all the life of his time, and 
 read the world and the heart of man as they had not been read 
 before ; who after much hesitation became convinced that in the 
 Church was truth and so to the Church made his submission, there 
 to learn the way to God, in Whom at last he found rest for his soul. 
 All this story is told in his Confessions, a book which among all 
 books written in Latin stands next to the Aeneid for the width of 
 its popularity and the hold it has upon mankind. It does not 
 perhaps appeal to the same audience, it is not strictly a work of art, 
 but it is as full of life and touches the heart as truly, though from a 
 different quarter. It was a new departure in literature and stands 
 at the head of a new school. It was in his own day the most widely 
 read and liked of Augustine's works, and it is still printed and 
 re-printed, translated and re-translated. 
 
 Its chief marks are truthfulness, observation and experience. 
 Here is a man whom nothing escapes. Everything interests him, 
 everything raises questions for him, and he must get to the root of 
 everything. He studies himself, and relentlessly analyses his moods, 
 his fancies, his ambitions, his feelings, his aspirations after God and 
 his attempts to escape Him. He is not merely curious, for all these 
 enquiries are related to one another, and all tend to the great 
 questions : Who am I ? "Why am I ? For whom am I ? What is the 
 meaning and purpose of this complicated and even self-contradictory 
 nature of man, of this disordered and confusing world ? At one time 
 he tells us that he came near abandoning the search for the answers to 
 these questions, so difficult were they, but he found its abandonment 
 more impossible than its prosecution and persevered till he found 
 what he sought. This inability of his to be content with no answer 
 or a make-believe answer would have been remarkable in any age, 
 but how much more in his own age, an age when the spirit of 
 inquiry seemed to be saying farewell to mankind ? It was an age, 
 too, when after centuries of rhetoric and tyranny mankind seemed 
 almost as incapable of speaking the truth as of seeking it '. 
 
 1 The reader of the Confessions is every now and then reminded that 
 Augustine was once a rhetorician. Such plays as that on peritus and periturus 
 are far-away echoes from the school. This makes more significant the fact 
 brought out by Mr E. W. Watson (Classical Review, Feb. 1901, p. 65), 
 "Ehetorician as Augustine was, and master of several styles, he had a curious 
 power of dropping his rhetoric when he undertook in homilies and com- 
 
 132
 
 196 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Told by another, the history of Augustine's development, of his 
 complex life, his experiments (his own word) and observations in 
 manners, morals and religion would have been interesting. Told 
 by himself it has a unique value, as the record of a peculiarly rich 
 life, a story of real experience, the drama of a soul's progress from 
 error to truth, from uncertainty to rest in the love of God, in which 
 every stage is won by struggle, where nothing is done by guesswork 
 and everything has been tested in actual living, all set forth by the 
 man who has been through it all and who can tell it with a charm, 
 a power and an honesty rarely to be found together in any writer of 
 any age. 
 
 He is observant, he is truthful, and he is affectionate. His 
 nature was a large and genial one. He seems to have liked, to have 
 loved, the men and women he met. He certainly won their love 
 and kept it. His pupils in rhetoric became his disciples in thought 
 and faith, following him over land and sea to be with him and to 
 share his spiritual and intellectual life. It is this that makes his 
 book what it is. The keen intellect is not quicker than the warm 
 heart to detect the weakness of a wrong view of God and man. 
 Intellect and instinct have each their strength and their weakness, 
 and in Augustine they correct each other. Emotion cannot lead him 
 where reflexion will not approve, nor can thought rest where heart 
 is dissatisfied. He must be clear and he must be in contact with 
 flesh and blood, so in turn he rises above Manichaeanism and Neo- 
 Platonism. He must have a rational view of God, a God supreme 
 and free from any taint of responsibility for evil, and yet a God 
 Who knows and feels a man's inability to overcome evil by his own 
 effort, a God Who knows the human heart at least as sympathetic- 
 ally as he does himself and does not love it less, in fact the God of 
 grace. God is the origin of his life, and his life, properly understood, 
 consists in returning to God, living in Him and enjoying Him 1 , but 
 here he rejects or supplements Neo-Platonism, for his experience 
 has taught him that such life is impossible under the Neo-Platonic 
 scheme of things with a remote God ; his heart cries out for a self- 
 revealing God, Who will Himself come directly into relation with 
 the heart of man and lift man into Himself. Thus his book is not 
 
 mentaries to interpret Scripture." I do not think it fanciful to find the same 
 passion for reality underlying another fact which Mr Watson mentions. He 
 quotes Norden, Antike Kunstprosa, to the effect that Augustine was the first to 
 form his rhythms by accent instead of quantity. 
 
 1 Con/, x. 22, 32 Ipsa est beata vita gaudere ad te, de te, propter te; ipsa est 
 et non est altera. Cf. de Beata Vita, 35.
 
 St AiMjustine's Confessions 197 
 
 at all abstract, it touches life on the quick, and in the story of 
 Augustine it mirrors the inarticulate movement of the old world 
 from heathenism to Christianity, that moral, intellectual and spiritual 
 dissatisfaction with other cults and philosophies which drew mankind 
 to the Church. 
 
 He tells us the story of his career. He was born at Thagaste ; 
 he studied there, at Madaura and Carthage ; he taught rhetoric at 
 Thagaste and Carthage, at Rome and Milan, and then returned to 
 Africa. A life more uneventful could hardly be conceived no 
 striking episodes, no great perils, a little illness, commonplace 
 pleasures. Yet the story gives us vastly more insight into the society 
 of the time than all the letters of Symmachus, with his splendid 
 friends and his dangerous intimacies with Emperor and usurper. In 
 the Confessions we are in the heart of a family, we see them as they 
 see one another, we know their ideas and their aspirations, and we 
 learn what they are reading and what they are thinking about. 
 
 Augustine was born at Thagaste on the 13th of November, 354. 
 His father Patricias was on the whole a heathen, a man of a very 
 kindly nature, but very quick-tempered 1 . His ideals were not 
 perhaps very high, he enjoyed life 2 and he was anxious for his 
 son to get on in the world. Monnica, Augustine's mother, was a 
 well-trained, tactful, Christian woman. She had the sense, her son 
 tells us, to recognize her husband's various humours, and so care- 
 fully avoided provoking him by word or deed when he was angry 
 that she never had a blow from him, as certain of her acquaintance 
 did from their own more amiable husbands. She was essentially a 
 peace-maker and exercised a good influence on the "acid conversa- 
 tions " of the women of Thagaste. Monnica was the more positive 
 influence in the home, and while Patricius by his good nature and 
 love of. pleasure set his son an example of taking the world comfort- 
 ably and enjoying all it offers, her more strenuous and intelligent 
 nature left a deeper and more lasting stamp on Augustine, though 
 as usual the lighter ideal won the prompter response to its appeals. 
 The early impressions of his mother's Christian faith and life were 
 never effaced through all his years of moral and intellectual wander- 
 ing. When he once began to reflect, nothing satisfied him that did 
 not somehow bear "the name of Christ 3 ," neither Cicero's Hortensius 
 
 1 Con/, ix. 9, 19 sicut benevolentia praecipuus ita ira fervidus. People knew 
 quam ferocem conjugem sustineret Monnica. 
 
 2 Conf. ii. 3, 6 gaudens vinolentia. 
 
 3 Cf. Conf. iii. 4, 8 on the Hortensius (cited on p. 193); v. 14, 25 quibus 
 tamen philosophis, quod sine nomine salutari Christi essent, curationem languoris 
 animae meae committere omnino recusabam. Cf. too vi. 4, 5,
 
 198 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 nor the philosophy of the Academics. We get a glimpse of the 
 family relations again, when Augustine tells us of his gratification 
 when Monnica on her death-bed told him that he had been a good 
 son (plus) and that she had never heard from his mouth a harsh or 
 rude word directed against her (Conf. ix. 12, 30). At the same 
 time, he confesses that much of his conduct greatly troubled her. 
 
 Of his school-days Augustine has left us an interesting picture ' 
 the lessons, especially the Greek, which he found as tiresome as 
 other boys do, the rod, from which he prayed to be delivered, 
 and his general preference for play. Sometimes he did not stick 
 to the truth, he pilfered from his parents' cellar either to eat 
 himself or to have something for his playmates 2 , and sometimes 
 he did not play fairly. Yet he had no mind to be imposed 
 on himself, and he was a bright, intelligent boy (bonae spei 
 puer, i. 16, 26), who waked the interest and hopes of those who 
 knew him. For more advanced instruction he was sent to Madaura, 
 and after a year's interval he went to Carthage, "thanks more to the 
 spirit than the wealth of my father" (ii. 3, 6), who was however 
 aided by a rich fellow-townsman, Romanianus, for long Augustine's 
 steady friend. There were many parents much richer than Patricius 
 who did no such thing for their boys, and people admired him for 
 it. Of course it was not every father whose son was an Augustine. 
 
 Augustine was now sixteen years old when he went, as we 
 should say, to the university at Carthage 3 . It was a great 
 port with a famous history, a beautiful city with a great inter- 
 mixture of population largely heathen, "a city of noise and 
 pleasure," says Boissier. The boy had been captured by Virgil 
 and was an eager and quick student and did well in his studies. 
 But the same ardent nature that had felt the passion of Dido, and 
 the ambition that had once led him to take unfair advantages in 
 play, now led him astray. His fellow-students were given to sensual 
 
 1 See Conf. bk i. generally. 
 
 2 One very interesting discussion in the Confessions (ii. 6, 12 9, 17) turns 
 on the question why he went with some boy friends to rob an orchard, though 
 his father had a pear-tree which bore better fruit, though he might freely have 
 taken from his father's tree, and though he did not want and did not eat 
 the stolen pears after all. Ilia autem decerpsi tantinn ut furarer...An libuit 
 facere contra legem, saltern fallacia quia potentatu non poteram, ut iiiancam 
 libertatem captivus imitarer facieiido impune quod non liceret? ..Et tamen solus 
 id non fecissem...Sed qnoniam in illis pomis voluptas mi hi non erat, ea erat 
 in ipso facinore, quam faciebat consortium simul peccantium...llisus erat quasi 
 titillato corde, quod fallebamus eos qui haec a nobis fieri non putabant et 
 veliementer nolebant. 
 
 3 Conf. ii. 3, 6; and iii. 1.
 
 St Augustine's Confessions 199 
 
 pleasures, and Augustine went with them. He heard them boast 
 and boasted to excel them, though he confesses he did not do all 
 he told them he did. The brutal amusements of the eversores, who 
 overturned people in the streets, never appealed to him. His 
 temptation lay another way. He "wandered in the streets of 
 Babylonia and wallowed in the mud." Even before he came to 
 Carthage his mother had thought it would be well to check his 
 irregularities by marrying him to some one, but this was not pressed 
 as it might spoil his career. Licentiousness, the theatre and pride 
 all these he deplores in later life, yet no one except his mother 
 seems to have regarded his conduct as noticeably bad. 
 
 It has been pointed out that the wild period of Augustine's life 
 cannot have been very long. He went to Carthage at sixteen, in 
 the year 370, and he soon took to himself the woman with whom he 
 lived in strict fidelity till they parted about 385. Their son was 
 born in 372 and they called him Adeodatus, a significant name 1 for 
 such a child. Augustine was obviously very fond of him, and, when 
 he grew up a bright boy, not less proud. Even the Church at that 
 time recognized monogamous concubinage, and this woman may 
 have been a freedwoman or some one who could not be legally 
 married to him. At all events Monnica received her and her child 
 with Augustine 2 . Patricius had died in 371. 
 
 At the age of nineteen his mind was diverted to more serious 
 things than the life of pleasure. Hitherto he had hardly thought. 
 As a boy, on the occasion of some passing illness, he had asked for 
 baptism, but when he very quickly recovered, it was deferred. It 
 was generally believed that baptism washed away all previous sins 
 and consequently that it was best administered, if possible, on the 
 death-bed. People used to say, Augustine tells us, "Let him alone; 
 let him do as he likes; he is not yet baptized." This course was 
 followed in his own case and he regretted it 3 . However at nineteen 
 he came upon a book of Cicero's, now lost, the Hortensius, and it 
 
 1 Names such as Deogratias, Deus dedit, were not uncommon in Africa, being 
 apparently translations of Semitic names like Mattathiah, Nathaniel and so forth. 
 Augustine's words are worth quoting (Conf. iv. 2, 2) : servans tori fidem, in qua 
 sane expenrer exemplo meo, quid distaret inter conjugalis placiti modum, quod 
 foederatuvi esset generandi gratia, et pactum libidinosi amoris, ubi proles etiam 
 contra votnm nascitnr ; qiiamvis jam nata cogat se diligi. The last clause is 
 remarkable and shews the man's character. 
 
 2 See Loot's, art. Augustinus in Herzog's Realencyklopadie fiir Protestantische 
 Theolotjie, 1897 edition, p. 261, and Council of Toledo (A.D. 400), canon 17 there 
 cited. Diet. Antt. i. 526, art. concubina. Compare the somewhat similar case 
 of Libanius and his son by a concubine, Ep. 983 (to Ammianus Marcellinus). 
 
 3 Conf. i. 11, 17.
 
 200 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 changed his life 1 . He now burned with incredible ardour for 
 philosophy, as Cicero had intended his readers should 2 . His prayers 
 and desires were changed. He longed to rise above the earthly and 
 reach God. It was not this or that school, but wisdom herself that 
 was the object of his aspiration a disinterested passion for truth 
 awakened at last and conscious of itself. One thing gave him 
 pause ; the name of Christ was not there. So he turned to the 
 Scriptures to see what they were like and not unnaturally he was 
 disappointed. They seemed to him quite unworthy of comparison 
 with the dignified style of Cicero. In reviewing his life he explains 
 this. He at this time took a merely external view of the Scriptures 
 acies mea non penetralmt interiora ejus 3 . Yet a new life had really 
 begun for him the quest of truth. He had begun to be really 
 interested in religion, and to examine his own. He was dissatisfied 
 and now he fell in with the Manichaeans. 
 
 There are forms of religion which take a strong hold of the 
 popular mind, but are not so strongly represented in literature 
 as others which are less generally accepted. Stoicism for example 
 has far more literature than the popular cults of the early Empire. 
 Manichaeanism in like manner is much less accessible to the western 
 reader than Neo-Platonism, side by side with which it disputed the 
 field with Catholic Christianity in the fourth century. Of widely 
 different origin these religions had drawn nearer one another with 
 time. Manichaeanism had Christian elements, and Neo-Platonism 
 and Christianity had Oriental. All three had doctrines in common, 
 all three dealt with revelation, salvation and immortality. 
 
 Mani, who died about 277 A.D., blended in his religion elements 
 drawn from Persian Zoroastrianism, from Syrian Gnosticism, from 
 Christianity and perhaps from Buddhism. His system turns on the 
 origin of evil, which he thus explained 4 . There are two eternal 
 
 1 Con/, iii. 4, 7 librum quendam Ciceronis. The fashionable reading seems 
 now to be cujusdam for quendam. I have not gone into the MS. evidence, but 
 the genitive seems to me a foppishness of which Augustine surely ought to have 
 been incapable. His Aeneae nescio cujns (i. 13, 20) is not very happy, but this 
 is worse, to say nothing of the ingratitude. He quite honestly says Virgilius in 
 i. 14, 23. 
 
 2 Cic. de Div. 2. 1, 1 cohortati sumus ut maxime potuimus ad philosophiae 
 studium eo libro, qui est inscriptus Hortensnis. 
 
 3 Con/, iii. 5, 9. 
 
 4 See Gustav Fliigel, Mani, seine Lehre u. seine Schriften, aus dem Fihrist 
 des Abfflfaradsch Muhammad ben Ishak al-Warrak, Leipzig 1862 especially 
 pp. 86 to 105 for a translation of the surviving fragments of Mani's original 
 teaching. Naville, op. cit. ch. n. pp. 19 28, has also a very good and clear 
 account of Manichaeanism and its appeal to Augustine. I am indebted here as 
 elsewhere to Dr John Watson.
 
 St Augustine's Confessions 201 
 
 principles or substances, the one good and light, the other evil and 
 dark, and the universe is the result of their mixture. Light and 
 dark are here not symbols but actual descriptions. Each of these 
 principles involves the same confusion of spiritual and material, of 
 the physical phenomena of nature and the facts of the moral order. 
 Each has five elements the world of light falling into gentleness, 
 knowledge, understanding, mystery and insight corresponding with 
 the gentle breeze, the wind, light, water and fire and contrasted 
 with the elements of the kingdom of darkness, viz. mist, burning, 
 the hot wind, poison and darkness. The world of light overlay the 
 world of darkness, and out of the latter came Satan to storm the 
 former'. The King of the Paradises of Light produced the Primal 
 Man (Christ, not Jesus), and arming him with the gentle breeze, the 
 wind etc , sent him to fight Satan, who was armed with mist and 
 burning and the rest. Satan triumphed over the Primal Man, who 
 was however rescued by the King of the Paradises of Light, but not 
 without a certain confusion of the elements. Thus fire and burning 
 are involved in each other, mist and water, good and bad mingled. 
 Of these mingled elements the visible universe was made by com- 
 mand of the King of the World of Light, in order to their separation. 
 The moon and sun were created to take part in this work, the moon 
 drawing to herself elements of light (e.g. from a body at the time of 
 death) and passing them to the sun 2 , who in turn passes them 
 onward and upward, till at last good shall be separated from evil, 
 the latter massed below in a pit covered by a stone as large as the 
 earth. The blooming of a plant and the aspiration of a soul are 
 alike the disentangling of particles of light, while the eating of a 
 plant 3 or the generation of a new life 4 means their re-imprisonment. 
 Hence asceticism is necessarily a part of the Manichaean religion. 
 Mankind are apparently descended from Adam and Eve, whose family 
 
 1 Fliigel, op. cit. p. 87. Aug. Con/, vii. 2, 3 refers to this war of the powers. 
 Cf. v. 10, 20 cited below. 
 
 2 When the moon is waxing, she is gathering light, and when waning she is 
 transmitting it to the sun. 
 
 3 Mani's followers were grouped into two main classes, the higher and the 
 ordinary (auditorca). If vegetable food were eaten by the latter, light was 
 imprisoned in the process, but not if eaten by the former. To obviate starva- 
 tion a portion might be given to a man of the higher grade and the hearer 
 might eat the rest. Cf. Aug. Conf. iii. 10, 18 quae particulae summi et veri Dei 
 liyatae fuissent in illo porno nisi electi sancti dente ac ventre solverentur; and 
 iv. 1, 1 escas de quibus nobis in ojficina aqualiculi sui fabricarent angelos et deos 
 per quos liberaremur. 
 
 4 See Aug. de Mor. Munich, ii. 18, 65, the reason of the boasted Manichaean 
 chastity (which had once impressed Augustine) was ne carni anima implicaretur. 
 See Naville, p. 83.
 
 202 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 history is terribly complicated by mythology and the intervention 
 of archons and Cain's two daughters by Eve, Worldly- Wisdom 
 and the "daughter of Avarice." Man is of Satan's creation, but 
 owing to the imprisoned particles of light he too is of mixed nature, 
 not wholly evil nor wholly good. 
 
 Mani rejected the Old Testament as the work of the devil. 
 With his view of chastity he could not approve of the patriarchs on 
 any terms. Jesus he set among the prophets, though His flesh was 
 only a phantom and His crucifixion only apparent a type of the 
 general crucifixion of a portion of the Primal Man upon matter. 
 Jesus had foretold the coming of the Paraclete who should clear His 
 teaching of Jewish interpolations, and Mani was himself the Para- 
 clete. In this case, as Augustine thought later on, it was a pity 
 that his astronomy was incorrect 1 . 
 
 The question of evil was Very much before the minds of men in 
 Augustine's day. Synesius, for example, wrote a book on Providence 
 to explain that the triumph of evil is only temporary. Here then 
 was a system which, it might be said, looked the facts well in the 
 face and gave a plausible explanation of them. It recognized man's 
 dual nature, and relieved man of the responsibility for his own 
 sinfulness 2 , while it relieved God of the responsibility for the general 
 existence of evil in man and in nature 3 . Here was a system which 
 made the most magnificent promises of knowledge 4 , and rescued a 
 thoughtful man from the necessity of accepting the immoralities 
 and anthropomorphisms of the Old Testament serious difficulties 
 
 1 Conf. v. 5, 8 Spiritum sanctum consolatorem et ditatoremfidelium... persona- 
 liter in se esse persuadere conatus est. Itaque cum de coelo ac stellis, et de solis 
 ac lunae motibus falsa dixisse deprehenderetur...cum ea non solum ignorata sed 
 etiam falsa tarn vesana superbiae vanitate dicer et ut ea tanquam divinae personae 
 tribuere sibi niteretur. 
 
 2 Conf. v. 10, 8 Adhuc enim (he is speaking of his life in Borne while still 
 more or less a Manichaean) mihi videbatur non esse nos qui peccamus sed nescio 
 quam aliam in nobis peccare naturam. Et delectabat su2)erbiam meam extra 
 culpam esse; et cum aliquid mali fecissem non confiteri mefecisse. 
 
 3 Conf. vii. 14, 20 Et quia non aitdebat anima mea, ut ei displiceret Deus 
 meus, nolebat esse tuum quidquid ei displicebat. Et inde ierat in opinionem 
 duarum snbstantiarum. Cf. v. 10, 20 Et quia Deum bonum nullam malam 
 naturam creasse qualiscumque pietas me credere cogebat, constituebam ex adverso 
 sibi duas moles, utramque injinitam, sed malam angustius, bonam grandius. He 
 feels Omar's difficulty but he would have repudiated Omar's explanation as 
 blasphemy : 
 
 O thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make, 
 And ev'n with Paradise devise the Snake : 
 
 For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man 
 Is blacken'd Man's forgiveness give and take. 
 
 4 Conf. vi. 5, 7 ittic temeraria pollicitatione scientiae credulitatem irrideri. 
 Cf. De Utilitate credendi i. 2 quis non liis pollicitutionibus illiceretur, praesertim 
 adolescentis animus cupidus veri.
 
 St Augustine s Confessions -203 
 
 which Augustine greatly felt 1 . It saved him from bowing to the 
 authority of the Church and from believing what he could not 
 understand 2 , by appealing to his reason, his love of truth and his 
 common sense. At the same time it professed and could exhibit a 
 certain ascetic holiness if asceticism is holiness. 
 
 Augustine, as we have seen, had been quickened to the search 
 for truth by the Hortensius. He had found the Old Testament 
 morally unsatisfactory besides being deficient in style and charm. 
 The Church was committed to it, he thought, teaching that God 
 had hands and feet, and holding up the patriarchs as virtuous men. 
 Anxious to be free and to be right intellectually, he was also 
 beginning to be conscious of his own moral failures, which he would 
 not attribute to God but for which he did not wish to blame 
 himself. But here was a door of escape. Manichaeanism recognized 
 the facts he had himself been feeling, and gave an explanation so 
 far acceptable to his reason and, he says, to his vanity. And it did 
 more. He was already revolting from the self-indulgent and sensual 
 life he had been leading and recognized the contrast between his 
 own conduct and character and the chastity and holiness of the 
 Manichaean ascetics. He also found among them the "name of 
 Christ 3 ," for Mani accepted Christianity, and after purging it of its 
 errors, exhibited the true faith of the Gospel, or at least he said so. 
 Here then were Christ's name, holiness and philosophy. So he 
 joined the Manichaeans and though he was never more than a 
 " hearer " he was an ardent adherent and a proselytiser". He was 
 required not to worship idols, not to use magic and not to kill 
 animals, b\it he was not required to break with his mistress. 
 
 It is interesting to find that Monnica, who had been distressed 
 before about his irregular life, now debated with herself whether she 
 
 1 Conf. iii. 7, 12. The Manichaeans asked him utrum forma corporea Deus 
 finiretur et haberet capillos et ungues; et utrum justi existimandi essent qui 
 
 haberent uxores multas simul et occiderent homines et sacrificarent de animalibus. 
 Quibus reruin ignarus perturbabar. iii. 10, 18 irridebam illos sanctos servos et 
 prophetas tuos. 
 
 2 Julian (ap. Greg. Naz. Or. iii. p. 97 B) sneers at the Christians on this 
 score ; V/J.MV i] d\oyia /ecu ^ aypoiKia, KO.I ovdev virtp rb iriffrevcrov rijs vfj-frtpas fffrl 
 cro<t>ias. 
 
 3 Conf. iii. 6, 10. He speaks of the Manichaean use of Christ's name : 
 viscum confectum commixtione sijllabarum nominis tui et Domini Jesu Christi 
 et paracleti consolatoris nostri Spiritus Sancti : the syllables merely, not the 
 real thing. 
 
 4 Conf. iii. 12, 21 quod...nonnullis quuestiunculis jam multos imperitos exagi- 
 tassem. iv. 15, 26 dicebam parvulis fidelibus tuis...garruhis et ineptus ; cur ergo 
 errat anima quam fecit Deus. Later on (Conf. v. 10, 19) he speaks of his 
 pristina animositas in maintaining Manichaeanism.
 
 204 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 ought to allow her heretic son to continue in the house with her. 
 She was reassured by a dream in which an angel told her she 
 should yet see her son "standing where she did"; nor was she 
 disturbed by Augustine's endeavour to shew that it meant she too 
 would be a Manichaean 1 . She tried to induce a bishop to reason 
 with him, but the bishop, who had been brought up as a Manichaean 
 and knew all about the system and who seems also to have known 
 Augustine, refused to engage him. "Let him alone," he said, "he 
 will find out by reading 2 ." When Monnica wept and was impor- 
 tunate, he bade her " believe it impossible that the child of those 
 tears should be lost." 
 
 Augustine was at the time professor of rhetoric in Thagaste, but 
 a friend's death upset him so much that he left his native place 
 and went to Carthage in or about 376. This friend had followed 
 Augustine into Manichaeanism, but had been baptized while ill and 
 unconscious. When, on his rallying, Augustine had laughed about 
 this baptism, expecting him to be as ready to laugh himself, he 
 suddenly fired up and bade him cease such talk. It had a great 
 effect on Augustine, which was probably heightened by the friend's 
 death of a recurrence of the fever. " My heart," he writes, " was 
 darkened by this sorrow; and everything I saw was death... I became 
 a great question to myself and I asked my soul why it was sad and 
 why it troubled me so much ; and it knew nothing to answer me... 
 Weeping only was pleasant to me, and had succeeded my friend in 
 my affection 3 ." When he bade himself hope in God, his God was "a 
 vain phantasm, his own idle imagining." For he tells us several 
 times that while he was a Manichaean he thought of God as "an 
 infinite, luminous body" (iv. 16, 31), "surrounding and pervading 
 creation, infinite in every direction," as a vast sea might hold a vast 
 sponge (vii. 5, 7), "a bright mass of material substance 4 ." Life was 
 painful to him, and death was terrible 5 , so he left his native place 
 where everything suggested his friend, and went to Carthage. 
 
 He was very busy reading and thinking. At twenty years of 
 age, he tells us, he read Aristotle's Categories and understood the 
 book without a teacher. The exercise was no doubt useful, but 
 
 1 Con/. Hi. 11, 1920. 
 
 2 Gonf. iii. 12, 21 ipse legendo reperiet. 
 
 3 Conf. iv. 4, 8 9. "Grief fills the room up of my absent child." 
 
 4 Conf. v. 10, 19 cum de Deo meo coyitare vellem, cogitare nisi moles corporum 
 non noveram (neque enim videbatur mihi esse quidquam quod tale non esset)... 
 20 massa litcidissimae molis tuae. 
 
 5 Conf. iv. 6, 11 taedium vivendi et moriendi metiis.
 
 St Augustine's Confessions 205 
 
 after all his chief energies were not directed to Aristotle. " His 
 remarks on this work," says Dr Watson, "shew that he was not 
 able, in his pre-occupation with new problems, to appreciate the 
 aim of Aristotle in this analysis of the main elements by which 
 being is characterized. The use he made of it was to apply to his 
 Manichaean conception of God, as an infinitely extended substance, 
 the categories which for Aristotle were simply the most general 
 modes of determining things. In this external application to a 
 foreign matter of predicates accepted on authority we have the 
 beginning of a false method, which afterwards played so large a 
 part in Scholasticism." It is well to notice what weight Authority 
 carried universally in this age. The reader may for example be 
 referred to Julian and Macrobius as instances of men who lived by 
 Authority and dogmata. 
 
 Augustine was also exercised in another line of inquiry which 
 would seem less likely to have been profitable but perhaps really 
 aided him more. Manichaeanism was fatalistic and it boasted an 
 astronomy of its own. It set the primal man in the sun, the mother 
 of life in the moon, and the primal elements of life in the twelve 
 stars. While, like a good Manichaean, Augustine would have 
 nothing to do with magic, the case was different with astrology 
 and he became very much interested in it, in its " mathematicians " 
 and "books of generations." His friends, especially an eminent 
 physician, Vindicianus, and the young Nebridius, argued against 
 all this divination, urging that it rested on deceit and its occasional 
 successes were the result of accident (iv. 3, 4 6). He was at last 
 cured of this passing interest by an experiment. A rich and 
 eminent man, Firminus, had been born at the same moment as 
 a slave of his father's, and their horoscopes were carefully taken, 
 and though these entirely coincided, the freeman and the slave had 
 had a very different experience of life (vii. 6, 8). 
 
 But the matter did not rest here, for Augustine had been 
 making considerable researches for himself into Astronomy 1 and 
 found that "secular science" gave an accurate account of solstices, 
 equinoxes and eclipses and so forth. He laments that the astrono- 
 mers had too often not found the Lord of the universe, but he was 
 none the less impressed with the fact that they had discovered much 
 and could predict to an hour an eclipse many years beforehand, while 
 on comparison the voluminous writings of Mani proved full of fables 
 
 1 Con/, v. 3, 36.
 
 206 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 and gave no account of the science which he could understand. He 
 was uneasy about this, but he waited till he could be clear 1 , and he 
 had long to wait, for it was not for nine years that he met the great 
 Manichaean preacher Faustus 2 . Faustus at last came and Augustine 
 found him charming, but alas! "it was exactly what they always 
 say, that he prattled, only more agreeably." He had learnt by now, 
 he says, and had learnt it, though unconsciously, from God, that a 
 thing is not necessarily true because eloquently said, nor false 
 because the sounds the lips utter are harsh, nor on the other hand 
 is rongh speech always truth nor eloquence always falsehood. He 
 came to closer quarters with the preacher, and found that his 
 training had been quite ordinary and his reading slight, and that 
 he could not solve Augustine's difficulties. However Faustus was 
 honest "he knew he did not know these things and was not 
 ashamed to own it ; he was not one of those many chatter-boxes 
 I had suffered under, who tried to teach me and said nothing. He 
 had some sense (ecu- kabebat)...so I liked him better" (v. 7, 12). So 
 Faustus "without wishing it or knowing it" began to release him 
 from the snares of Manichaeanism, for he now despaired of ever 
 disentangling Mani's doctrines. 
 
 All the argument was not on the Manichaean side. A certain 
 Helpidius declaimed against them in Carthage with some effect on 
 Augustine, for he brought them matter from the Scriptures which 
 was hard to meet and "their answer struck me as weak." All they 
 could say and even that only secretly was that the New Testa- 
 ment had been falsified in the interests of the Jewish law (v. 11, 21). 
 Nebridius too used to propound a difficulty. Supposing, he said, 
 that when the darkness attacked the light, the God of light had 
 refused to fight, could the darkness have injured the light or not ? 
 If it could, then the God of light was subject to violation and 
 corruption an intolerable position, for Augustine, as we saw, 
 became a Manichaean to maintain the integrity of God. If on 
 the other hand the darkness . could not hurt the light, the Mani- 
 chaean system was absurd, for why should there have been a war at 
 all ? or the defeat of the Primal Man ? or the consequent intermixture 
 of some of God's substance with natures not made by Him ? or the 
 need of any redemption at all 3 ? 
 
 1 Conf. v. 5, 9: note his reservation of judgment nonditm liquido com- 
 pereram whether Mani's astronomy could be explained. 
 
 2 Harnack remarks that the story of Faustus is the one touch of humour 
 in the Confessions. 
 
 3 Conf. vii. 2, 3. Jam diu ab usque Carthagine gives us a useful date.
 
 St Augustine's Confessions 207 
 
 But Augustine was testing Manichaeanism in another way, for 
 he was finding out by experience that it had little aid to offer 
 toward living aright. For with Augustine the moral side of things 
 was as important as the intellectual. The problem of the origin of 
 evil was always with him ; he must explain why it was he did what 
 was evil. In other words he was conscious of sin, and could not 
 escape the thought of his own guilt. He had upon him the fear of 
 death and future judgment, a fear which haunted him through all 
 his changes of opinion (vi. 16, 26). His doctrine that sin is its own 
 punishment, like others of his doctrines, rested on experience. He 
 had been drawn towards the Manichaeans by their chastity, but 
 Manichaeanism failed to make him pure. 
 
 Thus Manichaeanism had proved to have little comfort for him 
 in the hour of bereavement ; it had lost credit with the exposure of 
 the folly of astrology ; its astronomy had been demonstrated to be 
 nonsense ; its whole foundation was imperilled by the dilemma of 
 NebriHius ; and it had failed to give him the moral strength he had 
 hoped from it to rise above the life of sense. 
 
 All this was not reached quickly. He was for years a Mani- 
 chaean, and meanwhile he taught at Carthage. He took part in a 
 poetic contest in the theatre (iv. 2, 2) and was crowned as victor by 
 the proconsul (iv. 3, 5). He read assiduously, and wrote his first 
 book, De Pulcro et Apto, a book he was highly pleased with at the 
 time, but after twenty years he was content to have lost sight of it 1 . 
 But he did not care for Carthage now. He was older and a professor. 
 Even as a student he had not liked the eversiones, and now he hated 
 the reckless violence with which students not his own would invade 
 his classes. Discipline there was none. Even in Rome students 
 from Africa had a bad name. At home they committed outrages 
 with an insensibility that astounded Augustine, and rendered them- 
 selves liable to correction by the law. But " custom was their 
 patron," and allowed them to fancy they escaped unpunished because 
 their only punishment was the " blindness of their action," whereby 
 " they suffer far more than they inflict 2 ." To escape this atmosphere 
 of disorder Augustine resolved to go to Rome, and to Rome he 
 went, though it cost him a lie to get away from his mother (383). 
 She came to him later on at Milan. At Rome he was at once 
 
 1 Conf. iv. 14, 23 libenter animo versabam...et nullo collaiidatore mirabar; 
 and 13, 20. 
 
 2 Conf. v. 8, 14 cum ipsa faciendi caecitate puniantur in consonance with 
 his general view : Jussisti enim, et sic est, ut poena sua sibi sit omnis inordinatus 
 animus, i. 12, 19.
 
 208 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 overtaken by illness and was befriended by another Manichaean 
 auditor. But university life in Rome had its own drawbacks. The 
 students cheated him of his fees', and he was glad to obtain an 
 official post as teacher of rhetoric at Milan, on the recommendation 
 of Symmachus (385). 
 
 Here we may pause. He was still friendly with the Mani- 
 chaeans, but really in revolt against their religion on the grounds 
 which we have seen. For the moment he despaired of reaching 
 truth and leant to the scepticism of the Academics. He had 
 revolted from the Church and now Manichaeanism failed him. 
 Each stage had left its mark on him. Even his wild life at 
 Carthage had not been without its use, for he had learnt painfully 
 and in himself how real a thing is evil. He had been wakened by 
 Cicero to be serious. The Scriptures had repelled him, and though 
 he deplored his long years in Manichaeanism, even there he was on 
 a higher plane than before. He had found real weaknesses in what 
 he believed to be the Christian position, and he had to escape or 
 transcend them. When Monnica wept over him, he was not in so 
 perilous a case as she supposed. His mind saw more while it saw 
 less than hers, and when he came back to the Christian faith he 
 retained the real gains of his years of separation. He had become 
 a Manichaean because he believed in the real goodness and greatness 
 of God, in the value of truth for itself and in purity of life. The 
 pursuit of these ideals had brought him through Manichaeanism, a 
 stronger man for his years of experiment and perseverance, and 
 though now for the moment he despaired of ever achieving truth 
 and the knowledge of God, and indeed believed them to be un- 
 attainable, he yet did not doubt their value. Happiness was to con- 
 sist in these ; that they could not be reached did not alter the fact. 
 Even this mood contributed to his growth, for, since his mind was 
 essentially positive, he could not rest here, and the double convic- 
 tion (for his scepticism was dogmatic) that God really exists and 
 that man cannot of himself know Him, led him to attach the more 
 importance to the Christian doctrine of the self-revelation of God. 
 There were however intervening stages, which we must consider. 
 
 When Augustine reached Milan, he was very kindly received by 
 Ambrose. It may be a fair inference from the text that Symmachus 
 had written to Ambrose, as we know he occasionally did, or it may 
 be that Ambrose naturally gave a kindly welcome to a new professor 
 
 1 Con/, v. 12, 22.
 
 St Augustine's Confessions 209 
 
 of marked ability. Augustine in return liked him, and went to hear 
 him preach, chiefly out of curiosity to see if his eloquence were equal 
 to his reputation. The subject-matter he disregarded, but he wao 
 delighted by the style, which, while it had not so much liveliness or 
 charm as Faustus', shewed more education 1 . But he could not help 
 incidentally noticing what Ambrose said, and in spite of himself 
 remarked how truly as well as how eloquently he spoke, and then 
 how well he managed to maintain positions Augustine had thought 
 indefensible, solving one difficulty after another out of the Old 
 Testament. Augustine realized that there was more to be said for 
 the Church than he had supposed, and now the balance stood even 
 between Christianity and Manichaeanism, and he began to look for 
 something by which to prove the latter false. It was against the 
 system of Mani that its doctrines about nature were wrong. It 
 stood in the way of the Church that Augustine had not yet con- 
 ceived of the spiritual nature of God, nor satisfied himself on the 
 origin of evil. It was against the Academics that they knew nothing 
 of the name of Christ. So till he found some certain goal Augustine 
 resolved to become and remain a cateohumen in the Church of his 
 parents 2 . 
 
 The difficulties of the Old Testament vanished under Ambrose's 
 application of the allegoric method. "The letter killeth, but 
 the spirit maketh alive" was a favourite text with the bishop. 
 The method was not his own, but had long been used by the Church 
 in the interpretation of the Bible, just as the Greeks used it with 
 Homer. Porphyry's explanation of the Cave of the Nymphs is 
 perhaps a fair example. It may be remarked that Augustine thus 
 owed his next step to an unsound method, and no doubt this is 
 true. The historical method is modern and is sounder, but the 
 allegoric method for all its immediate unsoundness really enabled 
 an earlier generation to reach, as conveniently for its particular 
 mental habits, the same fundamentally sound conclusion that the 
 real value of the Old Testament is after all its spiritual content and 
 that all else is in the long run immaterial. Augustine's estimate of 
 Scripture was completely changed. He now found in it wonderful 
 mysteries which he had never suspected, and he began to accept its 
 authority. As man is unable to find truth by pure reason and 
 needs such authority (this was the outcome of his scepticism), he 
 reflected that God would never have given so excellent a guide had 
 
 1 Conf. v. 13, 23. 2 Con f, Vt 14, 2425. 
 
 G. 14
 
 210 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 He not meant men to seek Him and to believe in Him through 
 its agency. If certain things had to be taken on trust, he reflected 
 that in ordinary life the things so taken are innumerable, and that 
 if none of these were so accepted, we should do nothing whatever in 
 life (vi. 5, 8). 
 
 Meantime Augustine still had worldly ambitions office, gain, 
 marriage. He had to deliver a panegyric to Valentinian II. most 
 of which he says was false, though of course the falsity would be 
 applauded by the listeners who knew as well as he did that it was 
 false. That day he saw on a Milan street a beggar, drunk, jocular 
 and happy, and he compared himself with him. Both sought one 
 goal temporal happiness. A few small coins secured it for the 
 beggar not the true joy, however, but Augustine felt he himself 
 reached neither the one nor the other with all his toils and ambi- 
 tions. The beggar was free from care ; he was not, and yet he 
 would not change with him 1 . He was thoroughly dissatisfied with 
 himself and in the dark. "How long will this go on?" was a 
 question he and his friends often asked (vi. 10, 17). Life was 
 wretched, death uncertain. " If it steal suddenly upon us, how 
 shall we go hence ? and where must we learn what we have neglected 
 here? Or will it not rather be that we must pay the penalty for 
 our negligence?" Would death end all? This was against the 
 authority of the Christian faith. " Never would so much be done 
 for us by God if the life of the soul were ended with the body." 
 Then why not seek God and the truly happy life ? But the world 
 and its honours and pleasures were sweet He disliked the idea of 
 the celibate life, which holiness then implied ; he felt it would be 
 beyond his strength and he knew of no other strength (vi. 11, 
 18 20). His mother urged him to marry and he arranged to do 
 so. He said farewell to the mother of Adeodatus, but only to 
 replace her with another. The fear of future judgment was heavy 
 upon him. " I grew more wretched, and Thou drewest nearer. Thy 
 right hand was near me ready to lift me from the mire and wash 
 me, and I knew it not." 
 
 He still was troubled by his materialistic conception of God, 
 "and my heart vehemently cried out against all these phantasms of 
 mine." He felt forced to believe he was really a free agent, that 
 when he wished or did not wish a thing, it was himself and not 
 another who had the feeling and that there lay the reason of his sin. 
 
 1 Con/, vi. 6, 9.
 
 St Augustine 's Confessions 211 
 
 But who had made him so ? How should he be responsible ? Who 
 set this root of bitterness in him ? If the devil, whence was the 
 devil ? If the devil were an angel once good, whence had the devil 
 the evil will that changed him ? Nebridius' dilemma made it hard 
 to suppose evil came from matter, for that seemed to limit God's 
 omnipotence (Conf. vii. 3, 4 5). The question tortured him. "Thou 
 with a goad in my heart wast pricking me on to be impatient till 
 Thou shouldst be a certainty to me by inward vision." 
 
 Help came to him from Neo-Platonism '. Some one gave him 
 Victorinus' Latin translation of some Platonic works, either Plato 
 or Plotinus. Here Augustine found a way of escape from both his 
 intellectual difficulties. In Absolute Being he found a better account 
 of God than in the infinitely diffused luminous body he had always 
 hitherto imagined. But of Absolute Being the human mind cannot 
 properly conceive, and Neo-Platonism bridged the gulf by a series 
 of emanations. First came Intelligence, the *ooy/,os vo^ro? or intelli- 
 gible world, the perfect image of the Absolute. From this came the 
 World-Soul, the image of Intelligence, and like it immaterial, 
 deriving its illumination from Intelligence which interpenetrates it, 
 while it is in contact with the phenomenal, all souls being part of it. 
 From the World-Soul is the corporeal or phenomenal world, further 
 still from Absolute Being, yet not evil, but rather absolutely good so 
 far as it actually is, though of course defective in being in proportion 
 as it is removed from Absolute Being' 2 . Where then is the material- 
 istic God ? He at least has disappeared as a contradiction and an 
 absurdity, and with him has gone a burden from Augustine's mind 3 . 
 Evil too is now less perplexing. He sees now that evil is not really 
 anything, it is not-being, failure to be 4 . It is not therefore the 
 creation of God. It lies in will and inclination, since everything is 
 good so far as it is capable of being, so far as it is 5 . Evil is turning 
 away from God and the intelligible world which comes next Him. 
 
 1 See Conf. vii. c. 9 to the end of the book generally. Harnack refers to these 
 chapters as the best account of Neo-Platonism in the Fathers. 
 
 2 Conf. vii. 11, 17 et inspexi cetera infra te, et vidi nee omnino esse nee 
 omnino non esse; esse quidem quoniam abs te sunt; non esse autem quoniam id 
 quod es non sunt. Id enim rere est quod incommutabiliter manet. 
 
 a Conf. vii. 10 on God as supra mentem meam lux incommutabilis, iii. 7, 10 
 (of his Manichaean days) et non noveram Denm esse spiritum. 
 
 4 Conf. vii. 12, 18 ergo quaecumque sunt, bona sunt; malumque Mud quod 
 quaerebam unde esset, non est substantia, quia si substantia esset, bonum esset. 
 
 5 Conf. vii. 16, 22 et quaesivi quid esset iniquitas, et non inveni substantiam; 
 sed a sumina substantia te Deo detortae in inftma voluntatis perversitatem. Note 
 here that substantia is not the equivalent of the English substance but the usual 
 Latin rendering of the Greek oi)<rt'a, essence. 
 
 142
 
 212 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Hence, as he says, the soul that disregards the divine order of the 
 universe, the disordered soul, is its own punishment by its loss of 
 real being in the very turning away from God. This appealed to his 
 experience, for he had himself found evil-doing prove its own 
 punishment 1 . God's nature and the question of evil thus grew 
 clear to him in Neo-Platonism. 
 
 But there was more to be done. Augustine had found the 
 inadequacy of human effort to achieve holiness, to turn to God and 
 rise into His nature, and he realized that nothing else will lead to 
 happiness. The questions now came, how was man to come into 
 contact with God, and how did God reveal Himself to man? Plotinus 
 answered the second question by pointing to the emanations, the 
 first by a virtual abandonment of philosophy and recourse to ecstasy. 
 Man, by entering into his own mind and abstracting himself from 
 all else, can obtain under happy circumstances an immediate in- 
 tuition of the Absolute Being, can leap by a bound into mystical 
 unity with it. Porphyry tells us in his life of Plotinus how often 
 his master achieved this happy vision. This latter doctrine appealed 
 very strongly to Augustine as the language of his Confessions shews 2 . 
 
 Augustine now, as he says, saw the " fatherland of peace " from 
 the summit of a forest-clad mountain afar, but it was another thing 
 to find the road there (vii. 21, 27). " I saw a way of gathering 
 strength adequate to enjoy Thee, but I did not find it till 
 I embraced the mediator between God and men, the man Christ 
 Jesus" (vii. 18, 24). So far he only thought of Christ as a man 
 of excellent and incomparable wisdom, one miraculously born of 
 a virgin, to shew thereby that the temporal should be despised, 
 and one who by his divine interest in us seemed to have merited 
 the authority of a teacher (vii. 19, 25). The Divine Word he had 
 found in the Neo- Platonic Intelligence, which was in the beginning 
 with God, by which all things were made, which darkness could not 
 comprehend, but the Incarnation and all it involved he had not 
 found (vii. 9, 13). So, though the divine beauty attracted him 
 upward, his own weight, the carnal habit, pulled him back (vii. 17, 
 23). He began to read St Paul and found in him, as was not 
 unlikely, a great deal of coincidence with Neo-Platonism, and some- 
 thing of his own experience. " miserable man that I am ! who 
 shall free me from the body of this death?" was an utterance of 
 
 1 Con/, i. 12, 19. 
 
 2 E.g. Con/, vii. 10, 16 admonitus redire ad memet ipsitm intravi in intima 
 mea, ix. 10, 23 renimus in mentes nostras et transcendimtis cas. A fuller account 
 of this is given in vii. 17, 23. Cf. Plotinus, Enn. iv. 8, 1.
 
 St Augustine's Confessions 213 
 
 the heart, for which the Apostle had an answer, but hardly the 
 Neo-Platonist (vii. 21, 27). 
 
 He was at last certain of God's eternal and incorruptible essence, 
 and longed now to be " not more certain of Thee but more stable in 
 Thee" (viii. 1, 1). Yet though he had found the good pearl and 
 should have sold all he had and bought it, he hesitated (viii. 1, 2). 
 In fact, he found he did not want to break with the life he saw to 
 be lower. The new will to live in God and enjoy Him was not 
 strong enough to overcome the old and perverse will. From the 
 perverse will had risen lust ; from the service of lust came habit ; 
 from the failure to resist habit, it had become necessity. Not only 
 so, but he found he liked the necessity more than he had supposed. 
 He wished to be saved from himself, but his prayer, if put honestly, 
 would have been, " Give me chastity and continence, but not now." 
 He was afraid his prayer should be quickly heard and he should be 
 healed from his disease, which he wished to be sated rather than 
 extinguished. He knew himself at last. His difficulty had not 
 been so entirely intellectual as he had supposed ; it was really a 
 moral failure. 
 
 It was in the doctrine of the Incarnation that he at last found 
 strength to rise above this conflict of wills, to break " the violence 
 of habit." The Neo-Platonic God did not after all reveal himself; 
 he was remote and the series of emanations did not bring him 
 nearer. The Word of the Neo-Platonists was not the Christian 
 Word, but one emanation in a series of others, and it did not 
 declare God's inner being. If man wished to reach God, he had to 
 do it for himself. The supreme God did not apparently care for 
 the individual man, he did not really love man, he did not forgive 
 sins nor give the power to rise above sin. But the Church, incul- 
 cating a doctrine utterly repellent to heathen philosophy, preached 
 the Incarnation and the Love of God. For the colourless and 
 indefinable Absolute Being it set forth a God, who Himself cared 
 for the individual (iii. 11, 9), loved him and gave His Son for him 
 to the death of the cross (vii. 9, 14). The Church taught that in 
 that Son God forgave sin and dissolved man's hostility to Himself 
 (v. 9, 16), and that to those who would receive that Son God gave 
 the power to become the sons of God, through belief in His name 
 (vii. 9, 13)'. 
 
 1 He finally crystallizes the thought of the Christian's dependence on God 
 in the expression Da quodjubes et jube quod viii (x. 29, 40). It was this phrase 
 which attracted the attention and criticism of Pelagius, thus leading to the
 
 214 Life ami Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 To believe all this was a great tax on the philosophic mind, but 
 here came in the authority of the Church with that of the Scriptures. 
 It offered a doctrine without explanation, without reconciling it 
 with current philosophy, and demanded its acceptance. Human 
 pride might rebel, but in the long run the heart must make the 
 surrender, when after long "tossing in experiments" (nos vohimur 
 in experimentis) it found nowhere else the power to overcome sin. 
 The Church was thus the voucher for the Gospel as a result of its 
 long years of experience. For so long as it had been in the world, 
 it had uniformly been solving the problem of holy living. It 
 accounted for this by the doctrine of the Incarnation, which was 
 to the philosophic thought of heathendom blasphemous and un- 
 intelligible, inconsistent in a word with the whole trend of ancient 
 philosophy and with all its conceptions of God. There was appar- 
 ently no common basis for discussion, until experience was consulted. 
 Augustine accepted the experience of the Church as confirmed by 
 his own. He believed without understanding, and of course at once 
 began anew to reconstruct his philosophy to accommodate his new 
 experience. No wonder it lays so much stress on sin and grace. 
 
 At the last it was the story of Antony that completed Augus- 
 tine's conversion. A tale of an unlettered Copt, triumphing by 
 divine grace over evil in forms which Augustine had found irresist- 
 ible, because attractive, this little book had stirred mankind, and 
 the scholar saw how " the unlearned rise and seize heaven, while we 
 with our learning without sense wallow in flesh and blood." Torn 
 this way and that, ashamed and aspiring, he heard from behind him 
 the mutterings of the flesh, and before him he saw the Church, 
 " serene and gay with an honest happiness," surrounded by pure 
 men and pure women of every age. He seemed to hear the Church 
 saying to him : " And can you not do what these do and these ? 
 Or do they do it of themselves and not in the Lord their God ? 
 The Lord their God gave them to me. Why do you stand in your- 
 self and yet do not stand ? Cast yourself on Him ; fear not, He 
 will not withdraw Himself and let you fall. Cast yourself on Him 
 without a care; He will receive you and heal you" (viii. 11, 27). 
 As in great perturbation he lay under a tree in the garden, he heard 
 a child crooning " Tolle, lege; tolle, lege." We get an indication of 
 the man's temperament in the process of thought through which 
 
 great controversy between Augustine and Pelagius. The strength of Augustine's 
 position in the controversy was that he had experience behind him and spoke 
 from a knowledge of man's nature and of sin, which Pelagius entirely lacked, 
 while on the other hand he had proved the inadequacy of Pelagius' theory. 
 The doctrine of Grace follows naturally on the story unfolded in the Confessions.
 
 St Augustine's Confessions 215 
 
 he at once went. The words were unusual ; he had never noticed 
 a child's game in which the refrain occurred, and the childish jingle 
 impressed him the more. Not all men would have caught the words 
 at such a time or have had Augustine's store of observation of 
 childhood '. He remembered then how Antony had found an oracle 
 in a chance verse of Scripture, and he thereupon opened the epistles 
 of Paul at a venture and lit on the words " Not in riotings and 
 drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and 
 envying ; but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ and make no pro- 
 vision for the flesh in concupiscence" (fiomans xiii. 13, 14). He 
 accepted this as a divine message to himself, and took the course 
 the Church had seemed to urge and surrendered himself to God 
 (viii. 12, 2830). 
 
 He very soon gave up his work at Milan, and withdrew for a 
 while to a country house at Cassisiacum with a group of friends, 
 including his mother and his son 2 . Apart from studies of Virgil 
 and other literary subjects, their time was chiefly occupied by 
 discussions, which were taken down by a shorthand reporter, and 
 are still extant. In these his language is not so avowedly Christian 
 as in the Confessions, for he is still trying to couch the new thought 
 in the old terms, but the new thought is there and if not yet fully 
 developed it is still Christian. From Cassisiacum he returned to 
 Milan and was there baptized by Ambrose at Easter (387). His 
 mother had seen him "standing where she did," and when shortly 
 afterwards she died at Ostia she died content. 
 
 Augustine's return to Africa and the great work he did there as 
 bishop of Hippo lie beyond our present concern. I have tried here 
 to follow the course of Augustine's thought up to his conversion, to 
 the exclusion of nearly everything else. This is perhaps an injustice 
 to the Confessions, which, as I said above, give a vivid picture of the 
 external as well as the spiritual conditions of his life and are 
 enriched by reflexions gathered from ten years of Christian experi- 
 ence. The sum of this experience is given in the first chapter, and 
 is as it were the keynote of the book ; " Thou hast made us for 
 Thyself, and our heart is restless until it rest in Thee." 
 
 1 Similarly I feel there is something significant in the confession he makes 
 that a lizard (stellio) catching flies, or a spider throwing its net round them, 
 will absorb him (x. 35, 57). In quam multis minutissimis et coitteinptibilibus 
 rebus curiositas quotidie nostra tentatur ? Everything however, as I said, 
 points in one direction. Num quia parva sunt animalia idea non res eadem 
 geritur? Pergo inde ad laudandum te creatorem mirificum atque ordinatorem 
 rerum omnium. 
 
 2 The best account of the conversations at Cassisiacum is given by Boissier, 
 op. cit.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 CLAUDIAN 
 
 We've drunk to our English brother 
 (And we hope he'll understand). 
 
 KIPLING 
 
 IT seems that both Virgil and Horace were invited to write a 
 great epic on the deeds of Augustus, and both declined the task. 
 Virgil, as we read in the third Georgic, thought of it, but he gave 
 up the theme as unsuited to poetic treatment. Horace instead 
 wrote the Emperor an epistle on literary criticism, though he would 
 have preferred, he alleges, to have told of lands afar, of rivers, of 
 tower-crowned peaks and barbarian realms, of wars waged the world 
 over, >nd of peace with honour thence resulting. Probably he 
 would not, and his true reason was as in Virgil's case the perception 
 that the historian's task and the poet's are different. The poet's 
 function is the interpretation of life and is ill fulfilled when he is 
 fettered to historical narration, and especially ill when he is forced 
 to play the panegyrist. And we may be sure that if Augustus 
 asked for history, he wished for panegyric. 
 
 But on one occasion Horace wrote as he was asked to write, and 
 the first six odes of his third book were the result a splendid 
 series of poems dedicated to the reformation of Roman society. 
 We find in them as it were incidentally the deification of Augustus, 
 but the work owes little to Imperial direction, for it is the outcome 
 of the poet's life and thought. The minor interest, the Imperial 
 purpose, sinks into its proper place and is lost in the genuine 
 inspiration that the poet drew from sources beyond an Emperor's 
 sway. Virgil in the same way though with more enthusiasm 
 introduces Augustus into his epic of the life of man, but the 
 interest of the Aeneid does not lie in the foreshado wings of the 
 Emperor, nor perhaps in the adventures of his forerunner and 
 archetype, but in the poet's treatment of human sorrow and human 
 quest, of all that is heroic and pathetic in the common lot of all
 
 Claudian 217 
 
 men. Thus round the name of Augustus grew a literature, of 
 which, whatever he may have thought, he is really not the centre. 
 The patron may prompt, he may suggest and he may pay, but 
 the poet creates, and there is hardly any relation between their 
 activities. 
 
 When a Virgil and a Horace found scant inspiration in Augustus, 
 what could a poet find in an Emperor like Honorius ? in a soldier, 
 whether patriot or adventurer, like Stilicho ? Yet the poetry of 
 Claudian, flecked though it be by much that is unworthy, is still 
 poetry. There is about it much to fascinate and charm the reader, 
 who will take the trouble to learn the poet's mind. Stilicho is after 
 all not very interesting, a striking figure perhaps and a great man, 
 but not so unique that Roman history cannot shew a score like him. 
 As for Honorius, a more uninteresting character is hardly con- 
 ceivable, unless it be his brother Arcadius, but perhaps even he 
 is not such a complete nonentity 1 . To discover the source of Clau- 
 dian's charm and the force which, in spite of Stilicho and Honorius, 
 has made his work immortal, is the object of this essay. 
 
 First, however, a word or two must be given to his own story. 
 He suddenly appears a ripened poet in 395 and after nine years 
 of great fertility as suddenly disappears in 404. Dismissing the 
 question whether he is the Claudian of whom Evagrius speaks 2 , we 
 find a certain reference to him in Apollinaris Sidonius 3 . 
 
 Pelusiaco satus Canopo 
 
 qui ferruginei toros mariti 
 
 et Musa canit inferos superna 
 
 Here, beside emphasizing what I cannot but feel to be his greatest 
 work, the later poet confirms the Egyptian birth of Claudian, which 
 is clear from one or two passages in his poems, passages in which it 
 is hard not to find something of that affection for a distant birth- 
 place which no prosperity in another land can quite overcome. 
 Whatever be the real purpose of the Deprecatio, there is this note 
 in the last lines : 
 
 Audiat haec commune solum longeque carinis 
 nota Pharos, flentemque attollens gurgite vultum 
 nostra gemat Nilus numerosis funera ripis*. 
 
 1 Zosimus, v. 12, says Eutropius the eunuch owned Arcadius as if he had 
 been an ox, Kvpievwv Ka.9a.irfp ^oaK-q^aro^. 
 
 2 Hixt. Eccles. i. 19, p. 274. 
 
 3 ix. 271. Suidas, too, speaks of KXavdiavos ' A\tavdpfi/s ewoiroibs vturepos, a 
 contemporary of Arcadius and Honorius. 
 
 4 Minor Poems, 22 (39), 5659.
 
 218 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Pharos, known afar of ships, and the Nile and Alexandria may 
 seem strange substitutes for Sirmio or Mantua, but for Claudian 
 they have the same power. Elsewhere in a little idyll on the Nile, 
 he writes, 
 
 Felix qui Pharias proscindit vomere terras 1 , 
 
 a line Virgilian in sound and sentiment I have dwelt on this 
 Egyptian origin, for it gives added significance to his love of Rome. 
 Neither Catullus nor Virgil was less a Roman for loving Sirmio and 
 Mantua, nor was Claudian for remembering Pharos. 
 
 His name, Claudius Claudianus, is hardly an index of his race. 
 It need not imply Latin stock, for Ammianus was Greek and his 
 name was Latin 2 . On the other hand Gaul was full of Celts with 
 Greek names, Aetherius, Pelagius, Potamius, Evagrius, Euanthius. 
 His extraordinary mastery of the Latin hexameter, which would 
 have been remarkable at any date and seems a miracle in the days 
 of Ausonius and Paulinus, has led some to suppose him the son of 
 Latin speaking parents, and his father, it is suggested, may have 
 been a government official in Egypt. But I doubt if this theory be 
 necessary. St Augustine 3 tells us of a man of his own day, who 
 though a Syrian and bred to Greek rhetoric had become eventually 
 a famous teacher of Latin eloquence, so brilliant that to him, though 
 a stranger, Augustine dedicated his first work. Hierius' writings, if 
 he left any, have not reached us, but the most splendid Latin 
 history after Tacitus was the work of the Greek soldier Ammiamis. 
 
 Whatever his origin, Claudian's first attempts in poetry were in 
 Greek, and it is debated whether the two extant fragments of a 
 Greek War of the Giants be his. He treated the theme in an 
 independent Latin poem and has more than one allusion to it 
 beside. The Greek piece is not unworthy of these, but it opens 
 questions into which I cannot here go. The Greek epigrams 
 attributed to him are slight and one implies acquaintance with 
 Nonnus, every line being decorated with a borrowed plume. They, 
 too, may be dismissed, and we must content ourselves for the 
 present with his own statement that he first wrote, or perhaps 
 published, Latin poetry in the year of Theodosius' death and 
 Probinus' Consulship, 395 A.D. 
 
 1 Minor Poems, 28 (47); Nilus 1. Another reminiscence is his account of 
 the electric fish in 49 (46). 
 
 2 Apollonius of Tyana was very indignant to find Greeks decorating them- 
 selves with Latin names Lucullus and Fabiicius for example. See Philostr. 
 V. Apoll. iv. 5, and Apollonius' 71st letter. 
 
 3 Confessions, iv. 14.
 
 Claudian 219 
 
 Romanos bibimus primum te consule fontes 
 et Latiae accessit Graia Thalia togae 1 . 
 
 He refers to his Panegyric on the brother consuls Probinus and 
 Olybrius, which however has none of the marks of a first attempt. 
 The beauty and purity of his diction and metre tell of long 
 acquaintance with the greatest of the Latins, and M. Boissier may 
 be right when he suggests that his youth, spent far from lands 
 where Latin as the vulgar tongue had lost something of its earlier 
 grace, may by throwing him back on the writers of the older days 
 have contributed to his mastery of the language of Virgil and 
 Lucan. In the same way, he says, the French of the emigres, who 
 returned from the solitudes of America, had the ring of the old 
 literary style of the previous century 2 . 
 
 He soon became one of the circle of Stilicho's dependents, an 
 event happy perhaps for his fortunes bat lamentable for his genius. 
 (Non enim uno modo sacrificatur transgressoribus angelis.) In 400 
 he writes of having been away from Rome on his staff for some five 
 years 3 . Possibly there is a rueful tone in his insistence on the 
 self-denial of Stilicho, which makes his visits to the capital so rare 
 and so short 4 . He had consolation however, for, apart from other 
 rewards, which he must have received though he says little of them, 
 a letter from Serena 5 , the wife of Stilicho, won him a bride, a lady 
 of North Africa, presumably rich, for the letter served him instead 
 of "herds and fields and a palace." Whatever were the date of 
 this marriage, he seems to have had throughout an interest in 
 African affairs, which may imply some connexion with the country. 
 
 In a society where Ausonius had passed for a poet, Claudian 
 became more deservedly popular. He is in many ways a lively 
 exponent of the views of the Roman nobility, political, social and 
 religious. As early as 396, in the preface to his Panegyric on the 
 Third Consulate of Honorius, he speaks of being in some sort 
 delegated by mighty Rome to address the Emperor . Three years 
 later, " Behold " he says to himself " the glory and majesty of the 
 Roman Senate and the men in whom Gaul rejoices. In every land 
 
 1 Minor Poems, 41 (42), 13. 
 
 2 La Fin du Paganisme, ii. 238. 
 
 3 Praef. Cons. Stil. iii. 
 
 4 Cons. Stil. i. 116 adsiduus castris aderat, rarissimus urbi. 
 
 5 Minor Poems, 31, 43 tua littera nob is \ et pecus et segetes et domus ampla 
 fuit. Iiiflexit soceros. 
 
 6 Praef. iii. Cons. Hon. 15 : 
 
 me quoque Pieriis temptatum saepius antris 
 audet magiia *uo mittere Roma deo.
 
 220 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 I am heard and the ears of the world listen 1 ." In 402-3, in the 
 preface to his Gothic War, he announces that his earlier triumphs 
 have won him a statue of bronze, granted by the Emperor at the 
 request of the Senate, so that he is at once read and seen in the 
 midst of the forum 2 . The same honour was afterwards given to 
 Sidonius Apollinaris. It may perhaps have meant less in Rome 
 than it would in London, for we learn that in the fifth century, even 
 after Alaric's capture of the city, it could boast 3,785 bronze statues 3 . 
 The inscription for Claudian's statue may be found in the Corpus of 
 Latin Inscriptions, and it does not fail in extravagant eulogy. 
 Some doubt has been cast on this inscription and on the reliability 
 of Pomponius Laetus who first copied it, but Orelli and Mommsen 
 accept it, and Gesner gives the testimonies of two more scholars 
 who saw it. It is now said to be at Naples 4 . 
 
 No poem of Claudian's can be dated with any certainty later 
 than the year 404, and after that date we know nothing whatever of 
 him He may have retired to Africa, free, in virtue of his wife's 
 dowry, from the necessity of composition. Stilicho fell in 408, and 
 by an ingenious combination of two of the minor poems a pretty 
 legend has been created 5 . An epigram turning on Manlius Theo- 
 dorus and an unnamed " man of Pharos," who is identified with one 
 Hadrianuo, may be thus rendered : 
 
 Day and night will Theodore 
 
 Snore and sleep and sleep and snore; 
 
 Egypt's son, the other way, 
 
 Plunders sleepless night and day. 
 
 Romans, your supplications make 
 
 That this may sleep and that may wake 6 . 
 
 A longer poem bears the title Deprecatio ad Hadrianum 1 and it is 
 
 1 Praef. Paneg. Manlio Theod. 1 : 
 
 culmina Roman i majestatemque Senatus 
 
 et, quibus exultat Gallia, cerne viros. 
 omnibus audimur terris mundique per aures 
 
 ibimus. 
 
 2 Praef. B. Goth. 7 : 
 
 sed prior ejfigiem tribuit successus aenam, 
 
 oraque patricius nostril dicavit lianos ; 
 adnuit hie princeps titulum poscente senatu... 
 
 ...legimur media conspiciinurque foro. 
 
 3 See Gregorovius, History of the City of Rome in the Middle Ages (trans- 
 lation), i. 79. 
 
 4 I am indebted to Dr Hodgkin for this correction. 
 
 5 See Gibbon, iv. 64, but compare Hodgkin, Italy and her Invaders 2 , i. 730. 
 
 6 Minor Poems, 21 (80). t Minor Poems, 22 (39).
 
 Claudian 221 
 
 thence supposed that on the death of Stilicho Hadrianus proceeded 
 to avenge himself on the poet. But some manuscripts give ad 
 Stilichonem for ad Hadrianum, which address, though obviously 
 absurd, for Stilicho was not an Egyptian, leads one to suppose that 
 both names are mere conjectures, the insertions of copyists. A 
 good case may moreover be made for the view that the poem is not 
 strictly serious. Another Deprecatio is clearly playful. Claudian 
 (shall we say?) has criticized the poetry of a great man well, 
 Homer and Virgil are both criticized, but neither of them was a 
 quaestor, so Claudian will henceforth applaud everything, and every 
 line shall have its 'sophos!' 1 
 
 Claudian is chiefly famous as a panegyrist, though for myself 
 I feel that he has stronger claims to fame. Still among the Roman 
 panegyrists he stands foremost. We have a number of panegyrics 
 in prose addressed to various Emperors from Trajan to Theodosius 
 works graceful in language and elegant in execution, but not 
 literature. They have a certain value for the historian in the facts 
 they display or conceal, and for the student of Roman society in 
 the light they cast on the relations of the ruler and the ruled, but 
 no one, I imagine, would ever read them for pleasure. Adulation 
 may be less unpleasant in verse than in prose ("the truest poetry 
 is the most feigning"), but a poet who attaches a serious value to 
 poetry is reluctant to hymn Augustus or any other monarch. 
 Claudian had his reasons for doing it. And however it may have 
 seemed to his first readers, to-day the mythical element in his 
 poems lessens still further the risk of our assuming that everything 
 he says is literally felt by him. As it is, there is far too much that 
 to us seems utterly insincere : yet while no doubt much of it really 
 is so, we must allow for the difference time has made. With the 
 progress of centuries the divinity that hedges a king has grown less 
 and less, but in Claudian's day many factors tended to shroud the 
 Emperor in a shining mist of glory. For three hundred years the 
 Imperial tradition had grown stronger and stronger. Emperors 
 might be madmen or savages, they might be set up and overthrown 
 by armies or murdered by slaves, but none the less the sacred 
 omnipotence of the Emperor became more and more an object of 
 awe. Diocletian enhanced this by transforming the court and the 
 monarch at once. The Emperor became a Sultan, whose person 
 was kept from the vulgar gaze, and the court a hierarchy of splendid 
 
 1 Minor Poems, 23 (74).
 
 222 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 officials. The conception of sovereignty had been orientalized. 
 The awful power and hardly less awful mystery of the Emperor may 
 well have dazzled the mind of the subject, and perhaps it was really 
 the world's interest to keep up the illusion. There had been far 
 too many insurrections. So Claudian may have felt more than we 
 suppose, though, as I have said, there is much in his work that he 
 could not have felt and much that he ought not to have felt. 
 
 Let us take one or two of Claudian's panegyrics for closer study, 
 and first one not addressed to an Emperor. One of the greatest of 
 Roman nobles, one of the wealthiest and most successful of them, 
 was Petronius Probus. He is typical of many of the officials 
 of his times, and Ammianus 1 gives an amusing account of him. 
 " He was a man known to the Roman world at once for his high 
 birth, his influence and his enormous wealth, and throughout nearly 
 the whole extent of that world he owned estates, whether justly or 
 not is no matter for my poor judgment 2 ... And just as the finny 
 tribe driven from their native element cannot long breathe upon 
 earth, so he would waste away if he held no prefecture." In 373 he 
 proved himself quite incapable of meeting a serious emergency at 
 Sirmium and incurred the rage of Valentinian, but he recovered 3 ; 
 and outlasting Valentinian and his family, he was in 395 a man of 
 such importance as to make Theodosius wish to attach him to his 
 interests. Never before had the two consulships been held simul- 
 taneously by brothers, not members of the reigning family, but in 
 395 Probinus and Olybrius, the sons of Probus, were consuls 
 together. It was a great event and had to be celebrated 4 . 
 
 Claudian was able to oifer something congenial to the occasion, 
 and though he is hardly as explicit as Pindar in such matters, we 
 may find his inspiration in his praise of Probus : " Not his to hide 
 his wealth away in caves of night nor doom his riches to darkness ; 
 but more bounteous than the rain, it was his wont to enrich count- 
 less throngs of men Nay, one could ever see his gifts streaming as 
 from a cloud The nations swarmed to his house in throngs ; poor 
 they entered, rich they came away. That lavish hand outdid the 
 
 1 xxvii. 11. Probiis was a Christian and was buried in St Peter's, where his 
 tomb stood till the fifteenth century when Pope Nicholas V. removed it. Gibbon, 
 iv. p. 73, n. 20; Seeck, Symm. p. civ. 
 
 2 Juste an secus non judicioli est nostri a favourite phrase of his. (xxviii. 
 4, 14.) 
 
 3 See Amm. Marc. xxix. 6, 9, and xxx. 5, 4 10. 
 
 4 Ausonius (Ep. 12 = 16) had volunteered to play Choerilus to Probus' Alex- 
 ander, and his verses may be said to have attained the standard he proposed. 
 In all probability, however, he was dead by this time.
 
 Claudian 223 
 
 streams of Spain in its flood of golden gifts." The same thing is 
 said about him by Ammianus, but there is a difference. Claudian 
 does not mention the source of this river of gold, but we may gather 
 from Ammianus that such streams rose in the provinces and con- 
 tributed to the Empire's decay. But we must not mar a splendid 
 scene with such reflexions, for does not Theodosius say : " Under 
 his rule we saw the western land rise with all her weary tribes to 
 new life 1 "? 
 
 So much for Probus. Proba might be Modesty itself come from 
 heaven, or Juno turning to Argos to receive gifts of incense ; 
 Greek and Latin records alike fail to shew her peer in a word, she 
 is a worthy wife for Probus. The sexes strove to produce their 
 best and behold ! Probus and Proba, the perfection of each 2 , and 
 their sons alone outdo them. As the Roman matron of old made 
 garments of wool, Proba prepares the trabea, the consular robe, for 
 each of her consul-sons, " and shining vestments of the thread the 
 Seres shave from the slender twigs, gathering the leafy fleeces of the 
 wool-clad forest" in other words, of silk 3 . The frequent mention 
 by Claudian of silk and of exquisite and elaborate embroidery is one 
 indication of the change that has come over Roman taste in art and 
 poetry. 
 
 This, then, is the subject of the poem to oblige a rich and 
 noble place-hunter Theodosius makes his two sons consuls, not an 
 event of any permanent import, for the consulship was an office 
 involving much glory and no duties whatever, it was a mere 
 courtesy title. What does Claudian make of it? When Theo- 
 dosius had overcome Arbogast and Eugenius, Rome, personified as 
 a goddess 4 , seizes the moment to shew her gratitude to Probus. 
 Impetus and Panic yoke her winged chariot of war and she leaps on 
 it habited like Minerva. " For she brooks not to bind her flowing 
 hair with bands, nor wear on her neck the woman's twisted chain. 
 
 1 163. 2 177204. 
 
 3 Compare Amm. Marc, xxiii. 6, 67. "Working the product of the trees with 
 constant application of water, as it were fleeces of a sort, from the down and 
 the moisture they comb out a substance of the most delicate fineness, and 
 spinning this they make silk, for the use hitherto of nobles but nowadays of 
 the meanest without any distinction." Prudentius, Ham. 288, says much the 
 same. Their common sources may be Virgil, Georgics, ii. 121, and Pliny, N. H. 
 6, 17. 
 
 4 Claudian is fond of personifying Kome; cf. b. Gild. 16; vi. Cons. Hon. 
 356, etc. The same is done by his contemporary Prudentius, adv. Symm. 
 ii. 648, where Symmachus led the way. The Christian poet's Kome is as 
 complimentary to the Emperors, but has certain things to say of more im- 
 portance.
 
 224 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Her right side is bare, her snowy arms uncovered, and one bold 
 breast appears ; a gem holds fast her flowing garb, the knot that 
 bears her sword shews gleaming purple on her white bosom. Valour 
 and beauty meet, and fair modesty is armed with stern terror, and 
 over her threatening helmet falls the tawny shade of blood- red 
 plumes. Her shield with its dread light challenges the sun, that 
 shield whereon Mulciber had shewn all his various art might do 
 here is set the paternal love of Mars, and Romulus and his brother ; 
 here the kindly river and the strange nurse ; the Tiber is wrought 
 in amber and the boys in gold ; the wolf is of brass and the gleaming 
 Mars is adamant." 
 
 I have given this picture at length, for it is significant in many 
 ways. To his love of Rome I shall return, but for the moment I 
 speak of his method. There is a notable difference between Virgil 
 and Claudian in their view of poetry. Virgil's method is that of 
 suggestion ; it is that of appeal to the heart, and it requires some- 
 thing from the reader, as music does from the listener. Claudian 
 on the other hand leans more to painting than to music, appealing 
 rather to the eye. Thus he lingers fondly over his work, seeking to 
 bring before the eye the presentment of his conception by massing 
 colour upon colour, making his picture splendid as one of Honorius' 
 toilets. The reader sees in Claudian's case and feels in Virgil's. 
 Throughout, it would appear that the Roman's weakness had been 
 to seek beauty through decoration, and Claudian is decorative as 
 Virgil is not. Yet it must be understood that his hand is that of a 
 master. His standard is lower than Virgil's, and his work must be 
 judged from a different point of view. It is not equal to Virgil's in 
 execution, even allowing for difference of conception, but of its kind 
 it is successful that is, of course, when it is not injured (as this 
 poem is) by the things for whose insertion his patrons paid him 
 
 Rome then, in the poem, seeks Theodosius and finds him by 
 the river Frigid us, resting after his victory. He addresses her as 
 " kindly goddess, Mother of Laws, whose sway is wide as the sky, 
 who art the Thunderer's bride '," and asks why she has come. She 
 tells him of the two youths she has bred, peers of Decii and Metelli, 
 
 1 Pan. Prob. 01. 126 : 
 
 o numen amicum, 
 
 dux ait, et legum genetrix longeque regendo 
 circumfusa polo consors et dicta Tonantis. 
 
 It is interesting to see throughout that Claudian's pride in Borne rests on her 
 laws and her eternity. So too Prudentius, c. Symm. i. 455 domitis leges ac jura 
 dedisti gentibus.
 
 Claudian 225 
 
 of Scipios and Camilli ; learned and eloquent, and grave beyond 
 their years, and asks that they may be consuls, " so may the 
 Scythian Araxes own our rule, and the Rhine on either bank ; so 
 may the towers of Semiramis 1 , their Median defenders fallen, dread 
 our standards ; so may Ganges in wonder flow on from Roman town 
 to Roman town." Theodosius consents, the city rejoices and Proba 
 sets to work at her son's finery. The poem closes with another 
 picture. From the island in the Tiber, where stood a palace of the 
 family, the river god himself watches the triumphal procession of 
 the new consuls awhile in the silence of joy, and then he speaks. 
 He challenges the Spartan Eurotas to shew such a pair of brothers, 
 predicts a year of peace that recalls the promised bounties of 
 Nature as foretold in some eclogue of Virgil, and summons all the 
 rivers of Italy to rejoice with him. A few final lines follow, ad- 
 dressed to the new year by the poet and laden with the delights of 
 the several seasons, and the poem ends 
 
 te variis scribent in floribus Horae 
 longaqtte perpetui ducent in saecula fasti. 
 
 All this divine machinery is set in motion Rome, Theodosius 
 and the Tiber all take action for the sake of two obscure young 
 nobles. Parturiunt monies. 
 
 Take now the panegyric addressed to Honorius on his fourth 
 consulship. This is a greater event surely, and yet a year later 
 Synesius writes to a friend and, speaking of this date, says 
 Aristaenetus was consul, " for I do not know who was his col- 
 league 2 ." The poet begins with the pomp of the consular procession, 
 and passes thence to tell of Honorius' family, of his grandfather 
 Theodosius, who pitched his camp amid the frosts of Caledonia, and 
 the Orkneys were drenched with Saxon blood and Thule was warm 
 with Pictish gore, while glacial Ireland mourned heaps of Scottish 
 slain 3 of his father Theodosius, to whom the suppliant purple 
 came 4 , and who alone of men at once deserved and was invited to 
 rule, of his wars against barbarian and tyrant, and of his victories, 
 
 1 May we not compare "planting the banner of St George on the mountains 
 of Rasselas"? 
 
 2 Ep. 133. After 400 or so, one consul was named in the West, another in 
 the East. But here is a proof of the division of the world. 
 
 3 Compare Cons. Stil. ii. 247 for these three curses of Britain Scot, Saxon 
 and Pict. Populi bestiales Pictorum is long afterwards the phrase of Eddi, 
 St Wilfrid's biographer. 
 
 4 Ultra se purpura supplex obtulit, 47. 
 
 o. 15
 
 226 Life arid Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 which taught men that there are gods and gods ready to help, 
 praesentes docuere deos. (He does not say, however, that the last 
 usurper Eugenius had pointedly favoured paganism, and that 
 Theodosius' victory was a crushing blow for the del of the old 
 religion.) They were victories, to win which was to prove the 
 existence of divine justice ; and the use Theodosius made of them 
 was blessing to the conquered profuit hoc vincente capi 1 love and 
 loyalty sprang up in response. "Glorious in such lineage wast 
 thou born, at once into life and majesty, no stain of private station 
 upon thee. ...Thy mother laid her down on gold; with gems bedight 
 she brought thee forth on a bed of Tyrian dye 2 ; it was a palace 
 
 that shrilled with the cries of august childbed One day gave 
 
 thee life and gave thee empire; a consul in thy cradle, the year 
 that bore thee bears thy name." 
 
 So after a babyhood of greatness we come to Theodosius' advice 
 to his son, a passage of great interest. It can hardly be supposed 
 that Claudian was favoured with the confidence of Theodosius, and 
 Honorius, a dull boy of fourteen, was not likely to have remembered 
 the long speech his father is said to have delivered. We must give 
 the credit to the poet for a lesson "that might," says Gibbon, 
 " compose a fine institution for the future prince of a great and free 
 nation. It was far above Honorius and his degenerate subjects 8 ." 
 It may seem strange that the poet should use such freedom, yet 
 contemporary parallels may be found. Julian wrote two Greek 
 panegyrics on Constantius, in which he set forth views on true 
 kingliness very like Claudian's. Synesius addressed some advice 
 to Arcadius on the right policy for the empire at the moment, 
 which of course was not taken. His speech too shews a number of 
 points of contact with Claudian's work. It is not to be supposed 
 that these men have influenced each other, but rather that all three 
 are presenting anew the results of philosophic or quasi-philosophic 
 speculation on monarchy gathered from the past. Much of their 
 exhortations is inapplicable to the ruler of so large a state. 
 Claudian is perhaps after all the most practical of the three for 
 once. He shewed considerable delicacy and tact in putting his 
 advice into Theodosius' lips. Elsewhere too he has preferred this 
 indirect method. 
 
 1 A line Rutilius seems to have imitated or recollected, when in addressing 
 Borne he says of the conquered peoples profuit invitis te dominante capi (i. 64). 
 
 2 Of. Synesius, de Regno, 11 A, quoted on p. 326. 
 
 3 Gibbon, iv. 22.
 
 Clandian 227 
 
 Much of the passage, it may be said, recalls the platitudes of 
 Polonius, yet these parts no less than the rest have their value. 
 Under all the sycophancy of the age there still lived something of 
 Roman dignity, and the Roman character of the Empire is more 
 than once quietly emphasized 1 . 
 
 " If the tiara of the Persian rose on thy brow, thy high birth 
 were enough for thee ; but far other is the lot of the rulers of the 
 Roman court On worth, not birth, must thou lean, worth that is 
 mightier and more useful linked to a mighty destiny. Learn thou 
 then for mankind what each must learn for himself. Prometheus 
 formed man's nature of three elements, one divine (mens) 2 , the 
 others mortal, and they are ever at strife, and man's work is to keep 
 them in harmony. Rule far and wide through farthest India ; let 
 the Mede, let the soft Arab, let the Seres (Chinese) adore thee ; if 
 thou fear, if thou cherish base desire, if thou art led by anger, thou 
 art a slave 3 . Thou canst not be lawful ruler of the world till thou 
 art monarch of thyself 4 . Think not of what is lawful, but of what 
 will be becoming, and let the thought of honour reign in thy heart. 
 Remember thou dost live before the gaze of the whole earth, thy 
 deeds lie open to all men, for the fierce light that beats upon a 
 throne suffers naught to remain hidden (nam lux altissima fati 
 occultum nihil esse sinit} ; rumour enters every secret place and lays 
 bare the inmost corner. Above all things be kind (pius), for while 
 in all else we are outdone, clemency of itself makes us equal to the 
 gods. Be not suspicious, nor false to thy friends, nor greedy of 
 praise. Not men at arms, nor a hedge of spears, are such a rampart 
 as love 5 . Dost thou not see how all this fair universe itself is held 
 together of love, and the elements unbound of force conspire to- 
 gether for ever 6 ? Do thou play the citizen's part and the father's ; 
 love thyself last (tu consuls cunctis rton tibt} 1 ; be thy prayers for 
 the State and not thyself. First do thyself what thou biddest 
 
 1 iv. Cons. Hon. 213 351. I have condensed the passage. 
 
 2 Cf. Synesius, de Regno, 6 B, vovs to be king, and all within affTaalaarov 
 Sidyeiv, etc. 
 
 3 Syn. Regn. 6 6x\oKpa.rla. rQiv traO&v. Boethius too (Cons. Phil. iv. m. 2) 
 has a little poem on this. 
 
 4 Syn. Regn. 6 eavrov fia<n\ewLv. Cf. Dio Chrys. de Regno, Or. i. 14. 
 
 5 Syn. Regn. 9 /cat TIJ iixvportpa /SacnXeia TTJS Hpuri Tereixia nevtjs ; 14 B etfvoia... 
 /SacriX^ws e<rriv Ivxypbv <t>v\a.KT-f)piov . Julian, Or. i. 48 A ffivoia.v...T$ fiaai\vjovTi 
 ifivpAruv acr<pa.\tffTa.Tov. Dio Chrys. Or. i. 3 ris 8 (ppovpd. KT...KpelrTW TTJJ airb TWV 
 evvoovvrwv (pv\a.Krjs; 
 
 8 Boethius, Cons. Phil. ii. m. 8, 13 htmc rcrum seriemligat | terras ac pelagus 
 regens | et caelo imperitans amor; and iv. m. 6. 
 
 7 Syn. Regn. 14. The king to be \eirovpybv rrjs /3a(n\eas. Cf. Dio Chrys. 
 Or. iii. 55, 56, 62. 
 
 15- -2
 
 228 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 others ; the people will hearken when they see the ruler obey him- 
 self, for the world forms itself after the pattern of its king and 
 naught moulds it so much as his life 1 . No scorn, no pride; I have 
 not given thee Sabaeans long taught to be slaves ; I have not made 
 thee lord of Armenia, nor do I yield thee the Assyrian race, ruled 
 by a woman. Romans, who long have ruled the world, hast thou to 
 rule 2 , Romans, who brooked not Tarquin's pride nor Caesar's laws 
 (jura). Long will the glory of Trajan live, not by his conquests, 
 but because he was kind to his own country." 
 
 Instructions somewhat in the style of Nestor follow on war, but 
 when the lad asks to accompany his father on his march against 
 Eugenius, he is bidden stay at home and read history, and a list of 
 thirteen great examples is given him. 
 
 Claudian now calls on Theodosius, who had risen to heaven to 
 become a star, to look down and see his hopes for his son fulfilled, 
 thanks to Stilicho, for Stilicho is almost inevitable whatever the 
 subject. He gives a list of Stilicho's German triumphs and then 
 turns to the Greek campaign of 396, and here we may well pause 
 to consider another aspect of Claudian's poetry the defence of 
 Stilicho. 
 
 The story of the Greek campaign may be thus summarized. In 
 395 Alaric was laying waste Thrace and Macedonia, and Arcadius 
 summoned Stilicho to protect Constantinople and the East. Almost 
 as soon as Stilicho reached Thessaly, he was bidden to return with 
 the western troops, but to send back to their proper headquarters the 
 eastern forces which Theodosius had led westward against Eugenius. 
 He obeyed. Alaric unhampered marched into Greece and ravaged 
 the country, but Stilicho reappeared and blockaded him on the 
 plain of Pholoe (396). And then, already at Stilicho's mercy, he 
 escaped, went on plundering and was bought off by the govern- 
 ment of Constantinople with the military command of Illyricum. 
 
 Two great questions arise. How came Stilicho so readily to 
 obey the order to return to Italy? How came Alaric to escape 
 from Pholoe ? The same happened again at Pollentia in 402. On 
 the answer to these questions depends our estimate of Stilicho. 
 Zosimus (v. 7) says he was so busy with dissipation that Alaric 
 eluded him at Pholoe. " I say nothing," writes Orosius 3 , " of King 
 Alaric with his Goths, often conquered, often hemmed in, and 
 
 1 Julian, Or. ii. 88 C tl-ofj.oiov<rda.i irpbs rbv dpxovra ra TWI> vTrrjKbuv. 
 
 2 Tacitus puts a similar sentence in Galba's mouth, Hist. i. 16. 
 
 3 Orosius, vii. 37, 2 saepe victo saepe concluso semperque dimisso.
 
 Claudian 229 
 
 always allowed to escape" Heathen 1 and Christian alike seem to 
 have mistrusted him, and the controversy about Pholoe and 
 Pollentia has lasted to our day, Dr Hodgkin acquitting him 2 and 
 Mr Bury bringing him in guilty. 
 
 But our concern is with Claudian. These are the facts to be 
 explained for his patron ; what does Claudian do ? Gibbon 3 charac- 
 terizes his account as "carious circumstantial flattery"; "as the 
 event was not glorious it is artfully thrown into the shade." Mr 
 Bury 4 commits himself and calls it "an absolutely false and mis- 
 leading account, which no allowance for poetical exaggeration can 
 defend." The act of obedience is glorified with a fine phrase 5 . The 
 Greek affairs he alludes to once or twice, always rapidly and without 
 condescending to particulars, once hinting at a supposed treaty 
 made from Constantinople. To Pollentia he gives more space, and a 
 vast flood of declamation about historical parallels, which are not 
 parallel, covers or tries to cover the fact that, for whatever reason, 
 Alaric had not been crushed. One seems to see that there was 
 hostile criticism in Rome, which the poet is trying to silence by 
 special pleading. Mr Bury holds that on this and on other oc- 
 casions the utterances of Claudian were direct manifestoes suggested 
 by his patron, while M. Boissier 6 shrewdly doubts whether Stilicho 
 always meant quite so much to be said as is said. Men thought 
 Stilicho wanted to make his sou Eucherius Emperor, beginning by 
 marrying him to Honorius' sister 7 . Now Claudian says nothing 
 about the ultimate design, but he does hint at the possible marriage. 
 The union never took place, and M. Boissier thinks that Claudian 
 has here exceeded his instructions. 
 
 To return to our poem. The Greek affair is vaguely got rid of 
 in fourteen lines, and we resume the blessings of Honorius' reign, 
 which are very significant If the recommendations we have seen 
 addressed to him seem to hint at the violence of Valentinian, the 
 uneasy suspicion of Valens and the savage temper of Theodosius, 
 what are we to say when we read this ? " We are ruled by judges 
 
 1 The most ferocious attack is made by Butilius (ii. 41 f.), who accuses 
 Stilicho of burning the Sibylline books, and calls him worse than Nero : hie 
 immortalem mortalem perculit Hie, \ Me mundi matrem perculit ille suam. 
 
 2 Perhaps a Scots verdict of "Not proven" is nearer Dr Hodgkin's view. 
 Can it be his troops would not push their kinsmen on the other side to extremi- 
 ties? Cf. Syn. Regn. 14. 
 
 3 iv. 27 n. 
 
 4 L. E. E. i. 74. 
 
 5 In Ruf. ii. 249 non est victoria tanti ut videar vicisse mihi. 
 
 6 F. P. ii. I.e. 
 
 7 Orosius says this and the idea probably did not originate with him.
 
 230 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 we know, and enjoy the blessings of peace and of war. No sword 
 hangs over us ; there are no butcheries of the nobility ; no accusa- 
 tions are forged against the common folk ; the exile is not thrust in 
 sadness from his native land; the wicked additions to continuous 
 taxation cease. Thy treasury does not grow rich on the losses of 
 thy subjects'." Yet how like his father the Emperor grows! 
 Quantus in ore pater radiat! He can wear his father's helmet 
 (jam patrias imples galeas) and is very athletic and warlike. 
 Historians have remarked that later on he forsook riding for feeding 
 poultry, and life through had a profound sense of the value of the 
 sacred life of an Emperor. The poem closes with pomp, procession 
 and splendour 2 , with a brilliant spectacle and a prophecy of an 
 extended frontier. 
 
 What does the poet mean by this poem ? He means no doubt 
 to flatter the Emperor and defend Stilicho, for doing which he was 
 paid ; but when he glorifies Rome's victories over the Goths, when 
 he magnifies the true Roman character in language that should 
 remind his readers of their great past, of a day when the Roman 
 faced and overthrew greater foes than Alaric, is he noc doing more ? 
 And does he not so atone for his hireling work and rise into real 
 significance ? 
 
 Beside panegyrics and panegyrical histories Claudian wrote in- 
 vectives. These were directed against the two successive ministers 
 of Arcadius, Rufinus and the eunuch Eutropius, the enemies of 
 Stilicho and therefore of the true Rome on the Tiber. The world 
 was too happy, and a council in Hell was called to deal with the 
 matter. Various plans were discussed, but on the proposal of 
 Megaera (rhetorically described) it was decided not to make war on 
 heaven, but to send among men Rufinus, a nursling of the Fury, so 
 well trained by her that he can outdo her in her own arts. She 
 hailed him from his native Elusa in Aquitaine to Constantinople, 
 where, insatiate as the sea, by extortion of every kind he amassed 
 infinite riches. Here let me leave Claudian to quote Zosimus, who, 
 while confirming his story, makes an interesting addition: "Every 
 kind of villainy throve in the cities, and ah! the wealth of all the 
 
 1 11. 491 ff. 
 
 2 "Eoyalty, followed by the imperial presence of ambassadors, and escorted 
 by a group of dazzling duchesses and paladins of high degree, was ushered with 
 courteous pomp by the host and hostess into a choice saloon, hung with rose- 
 coloured tapestry and illuminated by chandeliers of crystal, where they were 
 served from gold plate." There is more than a little common to Claudian and 
 the author of Lothair.
 
 Claudian 231 
 
 world flowed into the houses of Rufinus and Stilicho, while poverty 
 in every place invaded the houses of those who had but lately been 
 rich. Yet the Emperors saw nothing of what was going on, but 
 only decreed whatever Rufinus bade and Stilicho 1 ." 
 
 Rufinus of course came to a bad end. It was believed he had 
 inspired the order which sent Stilicho so precipitately home in 395. 
 Stilicho's speech to his soldiers on that occasion is well done by 
 Claudian 
 
 flectite signa duces. redeat jam miles eous. 
 parendum est. taceant litui, prohibete sagittas. 
 partite contiguo Rufinus praecipit hosti z . 
 
 The eastern troops bade Stilicho farewell after the manner of Lucan, 
 marched off, were reviewed by Arcadius and concluded the review 
 by tearing Rufinus in pieces. " The dissection of Rufinus, which 
 Claudian performs with the savage coolness of an anatomist 3 /' may 
 be paralleled by some of the martyrdoms of Prudentius. Detail is 
 not spared. It was horrible and it permitted a list of members, and 
 both of these features lent themselves to rhetoric. Such was the 
 evil legacy of Lucan and his school 4 . 
 
 The irony, the rhetoric and the swing of this poem impress 
 every reader, but there are other points of interest in it. It begins 
 with a debate as to whether or no there is evidence for believing in 
 Providence 5 . "For when I saw the laws of the ordered universe, 
 bounds fixed for the seas and paths for the rivers, the alternation of 
 light and darkness, then I inclined to think that all is decreed by 
 the council of God, who has bid the stars move by rule, the crops 
 grow in their seasons, Phoebe in her changes shine with the borrowed 
 light and the Sun with his own, who has set shores for the waves 
 and poised the earth in mid air. But when I saw mankind wrapped 
 in such darkness, the guilty long enjoying gladness, and the good 
 afflicted, religion in its turn was shaken and like to fall." The 
 punishment of Rufinus however, he continues, has settled his doubts 
 for ever. In the same way Synesius demonstrates at greater length 
 the truth of an effective Providence by his "Egyptian story" of 
 Aurelian and Gainas' revolt, and actually says that the rule of 
 " Typhos " had driven belief in Providence from the minds of men 6 . 
 
 1 v. 1. 2 In Ruf. ii. 217. 
 
 3 Gibbon, iv. 13. It is not an invention of Claudian's. Cf. Zosimus, v. 7. 
 
 4 Quintilian, x. 1, 90 Lucanus . . .magis oratoribus quam poetis imitandus. 
 
 5 An exordium pronounced beautiful by Gibbon, vol. iv. p. 14, n. 33. 
 
 6 See esp. de Prov. ii. 1 r)8ij TT?J avOpuiruv yvwfjL-rjs f^fppvrjKe 56a irpovoias.
 
 232 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 The descent of Rufinus into hell, at the close of the second book, 
 is drawn with vigour. The ghosts of his victims swarm about him 
 like the wild bees round the shepherd who is robbing their nest. 
 It is a hell where the distinctions of earth are lost, no dignity 
 survives and the king stripped of his empty title rubs shoulders 
 with the beggar. The guilty are condemned to bear the forms of 
 beasts for three thousand years, but Rufinus is too bad for hell. 
 " Cleanse the home of Pluto. Whip him across Styx, across 
 Erebus ; give him to the void abyss, below the night of the Titans, 
 below the furthest Tartarus, below Chaos itself, where lie hid the 
 foundations of Night : there, plunged headlong, let him pant, while 
 the stars wheel through heaven and the winds lash the shores of 
 the sea 1 ." 
 
 The invective against Eutropius, the eunuch made consul, is in 
 much the same style the tone very often recalling Juvenal 
 
 omnia eesserunt eunucho consule monstra. 
 
 This old slave, set free because worthless contempt u jam liber erat 
 his aides-de-camp, the fuller and the cook, his council of war, 
 eaters of peacocks and parrots, and the Senate of New Rome, the 
 " Greek Quirites," who fondle and kiss the creased cheeks of the 
 "old woman," are all drawn with the perfection of hatred and of 
 skill. 
 
 Once more we have an indirect contribution to Imperial policy 
 in the words of the Fury to Tribigild, urging him to imitate Alaric : 
 "To-day, who breaks treaties, is enriched; who keeps them is a 
 beggar. He, who laid waste Achaea and but lately ravaged Epirus 
 unavenged, rules Illyricum...Thee too let them fear; let them 
 admire thee guilty, whom they have spurned while loyal. Sated 
 with spoils and prey, when it is thy pleasure thou shalt be a 
 Roman" (ii. 213). 
 
 This was a criticism of the helpless government, not undeserved 
 and certainly well and guardedly delivered. Claudian however as a 
 statesman was as ineffectual as Synesius, and his homilies aad his 
 ironies despite his art achieved nothing. But I need not linger 
 over the poem, as I think its general character will be clear. 
 
 Here let me pause before discussing matters of deeper interest to 
 consider Claudian's style and manner. Something of his spirit may, 
 I hope, have survived translation in the passages I have quoted. 
 
 1 Thus in Syn. de Prov. ii. 3, 1269 c, Typhos is to be ev KUKVT$ as a 
 fj.va'iov leal Taprdpiov dai/jLova along with the Titans and Giants.
 
 Claudian 233 
 
 His handling of the hexameter is brilliant and powerful, in some 
 points very different from Virgil's, but different too from Lucan's. 
 He avoids with a curious sensitiveness those minor licenses Virgil 
 uses 1 ; and though he goes further than Lucan in his use of the 
 hephthemimeral pause, on the whole his verse is not so monotonous, 
 though rhetorical 
 
 His debt to earlier poets is great and manifold. Words, phrases 
 and ideas are often borrowed, and very often manner. Yet his 
 indebtedness does not affect his independence. As an example of 
 Lucan's manner one citation will suffice. He is speaking of Rufinus' 
 mutilation 
 
 jacet en! qui possidet orbem 
 exiguae telluris inops et pulvere raro 
 per paries tegitur nusquam totiensque sepultus 2 . 
 
 Of Juvenal's, 
 
 exterret cunabula discolor infans 3 . 
 
 The opinion has been held that his use of Virgil is different from 
 that made by Prudentius, and in some respects this is true. He 
 never, for example, approaches such annexation as 
 
 Christe graves hominum semper miser ate labores*, 
 
 but his language constantly recalls Virgil in word and phrase and 
 rhythm 5 . 
 
 1 A few details may be given. Spondaic hexameters, 5; Leonine, C; double 
 disyllabic ending, 6; double monosyllabic ending, 7; monosyllabic ending, 4; 
 quadrisyllable ending, 5; hiatus, 1 (heu ubi); irregular quantities, 2 (hie and 
 conubiale) ; rhyming couplets, 1 ; a very short list for some seven or eight 
 thousand lines. The spurious poems attributed to him may be condemned 
 at a glance for their false quantities and roughness. How they came to be 
 called Claudian's I cannot understand. One further small point may be 
 mentioned in this connexion. A heavy ending of a particular type the pen- 
 ultimate word four long syllables and one short is much affected by him. 
 The form tempestatumque potentem occurs some twelve times in the Aeneid, 
 perhaps oftener but not very much oftener. It is not much used by Lucan. 
 I have counted ninety-eight examples in Claudian. I believe it is due to the 
 influence of rhetoric, though the long roll of the movement is better fitted 
 for prose. 
 
 2 Ruf. ii. 452. For a passage inspired by Lucan, see the story of the 
 "Thundering Legion" in vi. Cons. Hon. 335350. 
 
 3 B. Gildon. 193. 
 
 4 Prud. Psych. 1. Cf. Aen. vi. 56. 
 
 5 A short passage may shew how much he can borrow. In the poem on the 
 War of Gildo the two Theodosii leave heaven to visit the dreams of Arcadius 
 and Honorius and the passage shews Claudian's study of the Aeneid, particularly 
 (here) of the fifth book. A table will make this clear. 
 
 306 dum vita maneret. Aen. v. 724 dum vita manebat. 
 
 309 respice fratris conubium. Aen. iv. 275 spes surgentis lull respice.
 
 234 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 While many of these coincidences may seem accidental, and 
 some the inevitable diction of the epic poet, still it is clear that 
 Claudian has assimilated Virgil. If likeness of form be not enough, 
 clear kinship is shewn by such passages as the hell of In Riifinum 
 ii. and the sixth Aeneid, and by the treatment of country life. 
 Still it may, I think, be admitted that in tone he is nearer Lucan or 
 Juvenal. 
 
 He can never resist the opportunity to make a list, and on 
 several occasions he digresses into strange paths of geography 
 e.g., the situation, boundaries and aspect of Phrygia (In Eutrop. ii. 
 238273), of Sicily (R. P. i. 142178), of the prefectures of the 
 Gauls and of Italy (Paneg. Manl Theod. 4157 and 198204). 
 Even his list of the forces sent against Gildo is not as bad as 
 Lucan's list of Pompey's legions (Pkars. vii). Other lists are: 
 Thirteen Roman worthies (iv. Cons. Hon. 400), the philosophical 
 schools (Paneg. M. Theod. 70 83), Victory's five possible abodes 
 in heaven (Cons. Stil. iii. 202), and many more. 
 
 He is apt to fall into exaggeration and other forms of false taste. 
 Venus addresses Maria, the daughter of Stilicho and the wife of 
 Honorius, and, after specific mention of nine several charms, con- 
 cludes, " If Bacchus in love could adorn heaven with his bride's 
 wreath, why are there no sfars for a garland for a fairer maid ? 
 Nay, already Bootes frames thee starry crowns, and for Maria's 
 honour heaven brings forth new constellations 1 ." Theodosius 
 addresses his last words to Stilicho, commending to him the young 
 Honorius ; " then with no further word, even as he was, he left a 
 path of light upon the clouds and entered the orb of the Moon," 
 
 315 ille licet (beginning a line). Aen. xi. 440 (the same). 
 
 315 praetentis Syrtibus. Aen. vi. 60 praetentaque Syrtibus arva. 
 
 318-9 in omnes aequalem casus animum. Aen. ix. 277 comitem casus complector 
 
 in omnes. 
 
 320 inveniet virtute viam. Aen. x. 113 fata viam invenient. 
 
 323-4 commissa profanus ille luet. Georg. iv. 454 magna luis commissa. 
 
 325 lon(jo...sermone. Aen. i. 217 longo...sermone. 
 
 326 castumque cubile. Aen. viii. 412 castum servare cubile. 
 
 327 Tyrio...ostro. Georg. iii. 17 Tyrio... astro. 
 
 328 carpebat.-.somnos. Aen. vii. 414 carpebat nocte quietem. 
 
 329 per somnia, a ghost speaks. Aen. v. 636 per sommim. 
 
 330 tantane...fiducia (also b. Get. 380). Aen. i. 132 tantane...Jiducia. 
 
 331 care nepos. Aen. vi. 682 carosque nepotes, 
 
 and the ghost vanishes in the Virgilian style. 
 348 adftatus vicino sole refugit. Aen. v. 739 me saevus equis Oriens ad- 
 
 flavit anhelis. 
 
 Add a number of single words used in Virgil's way 321 ultra, 326 fusus (of 
 sleep). 
 
 1 Epithalamium, 271.
 
 Clcmdian 235 
 
 and so on his way past star after star, each quarter of heaven 
 contending for the honour of his presence" glory of the sky as 
 once of earth, thee thine Ocean welcomes when weary to thy native 
 flood, and Spain doth bathe thee in the waves thou knowest so 
 well 1 ." When Honorius hunts, "gladly will the beasts fall to thy 
 spear, and the lion rejoicing in his sacred wounds will welcome the 
 shaft, prouder in his death 2 ." When Honorius marries Maria, the 
 poet says to Stilicho, "More, even more, we all admit we owe to our 
 lord, that he is thy son-in-law, unconquered hero 3 !" Some of his 
 utterances on the same marriage pass belief. Again, when, at a 
 length of 130 lines, he sets Diana and her nymphs to collect wild 
 beasts (elephants it seems excepted) to be shipped to Rome for 
 Stilicho's triumph 4 , one feels to-day a certain disproportion between 
 means and end. Still there is a value in the passage as shewing the 
 mind of the time, attested likewise by Prudentius. Lastly, when 
 Aethon, the steed of Aurora who (qui) puts the stars to flight, longs 
 to be ridden by Honorius 5 , one feels that Lucan's famous appeal to 
 Nero not to overbalance the universe when he takes his seat among 
 the gods, has been very nearly equalled. 
 
 On the other hand his descriptions are strong and his pictures 
 striking. His similes (some ninety-seven in number) are often 
 happy. Rufinus, among the soldiers, "shut in on right and left, 
 stood spell-bound by the shouts of the armed ring around him, even 
 as a wild beast, that has but lately lost its mountain home, an 
 exile from the towering forests, and condemned to the games of the 
 arena, bounds wildly in. The man shouts to it and awaits with 
 poised spear. But the beast trembles at the din, and head in air 
 looks round upon the benches of the amphitheatre and marvels at 
 the hissing of the throng 6 ." Another interesting simile describes 
 Alaric after Pollentia; "even as a pirate bark, that has long 
 cruised the seas and laid waste the ships, falls full of guilty wealth 
 upon a great trireme of war, which she has mistaken for a prey ; 
 and oarless, her wings of canvas torn, her helm and rigging broken, 
 she is tossed by wind and wave the plaything of the sea, till at last 
 she pay her penalty to the deep she has wronged 7 ." Alaric, deserted 
 
 1 Hi. Cons. Hon. 162, 175. A magnificent way of saying the star sets in the 
 West. Theodosius was a Spaniard. Dr Hodgkin should be read on this. 
 
 2 Fescen. i. 13. The lion reminds one of the wounded pigeon in Lothair 
 that fluttered over a paling from a terrier, that it might die by a ducal hand. 
 
 3 Epithul. 335. 4 Cons. Stil. iii. 237369. 
 5 iv. Cons. Hon. 561. 6 Ruf. ii. 394. 
 
 7 vi. Cons. Hon. 132.
 
 236 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 by some of his Goths, is compared to an old man of Hybla, whose 
 bees have swarmed ; he clangs cymbals all in vain, and, wearied by 
 the bootless noise, gives over and laments the faithless swarms and 
 empty hives'. Again, in view of the story of the Rape of Proser- 
 pine, there is an impressiveuess in the simile of the path of Venus. 
 "The path shone as the goddess trod, even as a comet of dire augury 
 crosses the heaven in fire and blood, ruddy with ominous import ; 
 the mariner sees it to his sorrow, and the folk to their hurt, for the 
 menace of its streaming light speaks of storm for ships and foemen 
 for cities." Another simile, no new one, tells of the starry sky, 
 where the moon outshines the stars, but an added touch makes it 
 new. The point turns on brightness, but the poet adds the silence 
 of night. 
 
 tacitam Luna regnante per aethram. 
 
 It is clear that a poet, whatever he be told or paid to write, can 
 write nothing of any value that does not come from the heart 
 dettii as muss von Herzen gehen, was auf Herzen wirken soil what- 
 ever moreover the subject assigned him, he will write what he must 
 write. The poet, like the Hebrew prophet, has a burden, he can do 
 nothing but what is given him. It has nothing to do with 
 patronage. In the poetry of Claudian we find two noble concep- 
 tions, overlaid and marred, it is true, in some measure by uninspired 
 work, by rhetoric and adulation, yet noble still the eternal 
 grandeur of Rome and the beauty and sufficiency of the old 
 religion. Both of these call for study. 
 
 To begin with Rome. In the brilliant apologetic of Tertullian 
 and the sober homilies of Afrahat we find the opinion, that Rome 
 is to last as long as the world lasts. But as yet to Christians 
 Rome was not an object of love; they had not seen beyond the 
 " scarlet woman " the majestic queen of the Church. It was the 
 heathen who at this time felt for her the passionate enthusiasm of 
 the Christian of the middle ages, though already a Prudentius has 
 visions of a Christian Rome, and the pilgrims cross the bridge of 
 Hadrian 2 . To the heathen, however, she was dear not so much for 
 what she was to be as for what she was and had been. The associa- 
 tions of ten centuries were about her ; the wealth, the culture, the 
 
 1 vi. Cons. Hon. 259. 
 
 2 Boissier, F. P. ii. 253, remarks that Claudian and his friends, by main- 
 taining the imperial destiny and sacred character of Rome, were really con- 
 tributing to the growth of a papal Rome. I feel however that their influence 
 may easily be over-estimated.
 
 Claudian 237 
 
 art and the faith of the world had gathered to her. She summed 
 up the history of mankind. She had been and was still " mother 
 of laws" and giver of peace. Justice between man and man and 
 amity between nations were her gifts to the world, and her visible 
 splendour and prosperity were the seal of the world's happiness. 
 She was the chosen city of the gods ; god after god had forsaken his 
 native home for Rome, had brought his people under her sway and 
 made it clear that Rome and heaven stood together. And now a 
 new faith had risen, and the first Emperor to forsake the old gods 
 had also forsaken the old Rome, and had made at once a new 
 heaven and a new earth, a new heaven that knew not the gods of 
 his fathers, and a new Rome that flouted the old. The cause a 
 man loves he loves the more when it is attacked. So the heathen 
 loved Rome the more for the menace of Christian Constantinople, 
 and in Claudian's poetry we read this love. Honorius is the 
 Emperor of the true Rome (though alas! he did indeed live at 
 Ravenna) ; he had begged Rome of his father rather than Constan- 
 tinople, says Claudian. Stilicho was the saviour of Rome. Thus 
 the extravagant eulogy of these men means more than might appear 
 at first sight. The pageantry and pomp he delights to describe are 
 Rome's, they are the symbols of her greatness. 
 
 Let us take as our starting-point the greatest word spoken in 
 Stilicho's praise : 
 
 nihil in tanto circum terrore locutus 
 indignum Latio 1 . 
 
 " Amid all the terror that stood around he said no word unworthy 
 of Latium " this was written by an Alexandrian Greek and written 
 of a Vandal. The situation was very different, but the spirit is that 
 of the men who thanked the defeated Varro that he had not 
 despaired of the Republic. 
 
 " Look," he cries to Stilicho, "look around upon the seven hills, 
 that challenge the sun's rays with their gleam of gold, upon the 
 arches hung with spoils, upon the temples that tower to the clouds 
 and all the fabric of so many triumphs. What thou hast wrought, 
 what a city thou hast saved, measure thou with eyes of wonder 2 ." 
 The seat of the Empire is as peerless as itself. 
 
 When Stilicho had won the victory of Pollentia and Alaric at all 
 events withdrew, Claudian apostrophizes Rome. "Rise, venerable 
 
 1 Cons. Stil. i. 294. 2 Cons. Stil. iii. 65.
 
 238 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 mother, and free from care trust the favour of the gods. Away 
 with craven fears of old age. City eternal as the sky, iron fate 
 shall touch thee then and only then, when nature makes new laws 
 for the stars'." Into the lips of a Gothic counsellor of Alaric, he 
 puts the words : " If it be truth our fathers tell, none who was so 
 mad as to attack this city in war, returned triumphant in his guilt. 
 The gods fail not thfeir home ; thunderbolts, men say, are hurled on 
 the foe afar, and the fires of heaven guard the walls, whether it be 
 the gods or Rome herself that thunders 2 ." The poem closes with 
 the words posterity shall read at Pollentia. " Here laid in Italian 
 soil are the Cimbri and the valiant Goths, slain by the great 
 captains Stilicho and Marius. Learn, foolish peoples, not to 
 despise Rome." 
 
 From the city we pass to the Empire 
 
 tanto quaesitum sanguine, tanto 
 servatum, quod mille ducum peperere labores, 
 quod tantis Romana manus contexuit annis 3 . 
 
 These are the words of a " provincial," of one of the conquered 
 perhaps. What did the Empire mean to him ? There is in the 
 third book of Stilicko's Consulship a passage which, in spite of one 
 or two weak spots, really reaches a high level of patriotism and 
 inspiration a stirring appeal to his countrymen to be worthy of 
 their past. Note in particular the reference to Hannibal with whom 
 he elsewhere compares Alaric. In this tacit contrast of present and 
 past we can surely read what Rome was to this poet of her later 
 days 4 . 
 
 " Nought grander on earth does the sky embrace. The eye 
 cannot comprehend her extent, the heart her beauty, nor the voice 
 her praise. With the lustre of her gold she rivals the stars she 
 touches. Her seven hills recall the zones of Olympus. Mother of 
 arms and laws, she spreads her rule over all mankind, the first to 
 give them law. She it is who from narrow bounds spread to either 
 pole, and starting from a little home reached forth her hands with 
 the sun. Battling with destiny, while she waged countless wars at 
 once, laid hold on the towns of Spain, besieged the towns of Sicily, 
 
 1 b. Get. 54. Urbs aequaeva polo. 
 
 2 b. Get. 506511. 
 
 3 In Ruf. ii. 50. Compare Prudentius, Symm. ii. 550: 
 
 non fero Romanum nonwn sudataque bella 
 et titulos tanto quaesitos sanguine carpi. 
 
 4 Cons. Stil. iii. 131170.
 
 Claudian 239 
 
 brought low the Gaul on land, the Carthaginian on the sea, she 
 never bowed to blow; no whit was she affrighted by wound, but her 
 voice rose stronger after Cannae and the Trebia 1 , and when the 
 flames girt her round about and the foe was at the wall, she sent 
 her armies to the distant Iberians, nor was she stayed by Ocean, 
 but embarked upon the deep and sought the Britons in a world 
 remote for a fresh triumph. This is she who alone took the 
 conquered to her bosom and cherished all mankind alike, as mother 
 not as queen, and called them her sons whom she had conquered, 
 and bound them to her afar by bonds of love. To her rule of peace 
 we owe it that the stranger is at home in every land, that men may 
 dwell in every clime, that it is but sport to visit Thule and the 
 furthest shores; that we may range from Rhone to Orontes; that 
 we are all one people. Nor shall there ever be an end to Rome's 
 sway. Other realms luxury with its crimes and pride with its 
 hatreds brought low. So the proud Spartan overthrew Athens and 
 fell in turn to Thebes; so the Mede from the Assyrian, and the 
 Persian from the Mede took the power. The Macedonian crushed 
 the Persian, himself to yield to the Romans. She stands grounded 
 on the Sibyl's oracles, inspired by the rites of Nutna. For her 
 Jupiter wields the thunderbolt ; her Pallas shields with the Gorgon ; 
 hither brought Vesta her secret flame, and the tower-crowned 
 Mother of the Gods her mysteries and her Phrygian lions." 
 
 And yet there are ominous signs of what is coming. The 
 Empire is weaker, the Goths grow stronger and do more and more 
 mischief, and with loss of territory the number and the rapacity of 
 the officials grow 2 . More ominous still, his "gods" have said to 
 Alaric (who by the way was Christian, if Arian) 
 
 penetrabis ad Urbem. 
 
 Claudian may make merry over this prophecy fulfilled at the river 
 Urbis (the Borbo) 3 , but the divine pressure was still on Alaric, as he 
 told the hermit, and to the City (Urbs) he came 4 . 
 
 And Constantinople? "Look," he says, "at the Senate applaud- 
 ing (Eutropius), those nobles of Byzantium, those Greek Quirites! 
 
 1 I may be permitted to quote these lines, which after the battle of Colenso 
 I felt represented English sentiment as truly as they do the Koman feeling 
 of 216 B.C.: 
 
 nunquam succubuit damnis et territa nullo 
 vulnere post C annas major Trebiamque fremebat. 
 
 2 In Eutrop. ii. 590 rectorurn numerum terris pereuntibus augent. 
 
 3 b. Get. 555. 4 Sozomen, ix. 6.
 
 240 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 people worthy of its Senate ! Senate worthy of its Consul 1 !" 
 " The ruler of the East, the destined consul, combed a mistress' 
 locks 2 ." " Nobles," he says, " wont to scorn Rome and admire their 
 own abode which may the Bosporus overwhelm 3 ." His crowning 
 insult is the enumeration of the " founders " of New Rome Byzas, 
 Constantine and Eutropius 4 . From many of his expressions we can 
 clearly see the growing severance between East and West. Apart 
 from bis Roman sympathies, his Alexandrian origin would con- 
 tribute to his dislike of Constantinople. Alexandria hated Constan- 
 tinople, and to such an extent that Egypt did not care to battle 
 against the Saracens, but surrendered to them at once. The hatred 
 was racial and afterwards religious. 
 
 We come now to the question of religion. " An exquisite poet 
 but a most (stubborn heathen 5 " says Orosius of Claudiau, when 
 he quotes a line or two from which he carefully eliminates the 
 heathenism. Augustine gives the same account of him " the poet 
 Claudian, though a stranger to Christ's name 6 ." One likes to think 
 that Christians read and enjoyed him in spite of a difference of 
 view. For Claudian was pronounced in his adherence to the old 
 religion. No doubt it may be said, and it has been said at least 
 often enough, that the gods in his poems are even more avowedly 
 ornamental than in the Aeneid. Yet while Orosius and Augustine 
 made a strong point of the bloodlessness and completeness of 
 Theodosius' victories because they were God-given, it is surely not 
 merely for decorative purposes that Claudian gives all the glory to 
 the gods of old Rome. It has been remarked 7 that there is also a 
 significance in his invocation of Victory (Cons. Stil. iii. 205), in view 
 of the battles that had been fought about the statue of the goddess 
 and its removal from the Senate House. 
 
 His direct allusions to Christianity are as scant as might have 
 been expected from a man of culture of the old faith. It was a 
 point of style to ignore the new religion. He has one or two sneers 
 for the "Egyptian oracles" on which Eutropius rested, oracles 
 
 1 Eutrop. ii. 135. 2 Eutrop. i. 105. 
 
 3 Eutrop. ii. 339. 4 Eutrop. ii. 83. 
 
 8 Orosius, vii. 35 poeta quidem eximius sed paganus pervicacissimus. 
 
 6 Augustine, C. D. v. 26 poeta Claudiamis quamvis a Christi nomine 
 alienus. 
 
 7 Boissier, F. P. ii. 244. I believe this critic is nearer the truth when he 
 says of Claudian's attitude to Christianity, "il y songe toujours," than 
 M. Beuguot (cited by Milman on Gibbon) who talks of "his extraordinary 
 indifference." As to Victory, see the famous relatio of Symmachus and 
 Ambrose's reply (Epp. i. 18), and the two thoughtful and courteous books 
 of Prudentius adversus Symmachum.
 
 Clcmdian 241 
 
 supposed to be those of the Egyptian hermit John, whom Augustine 
 tells us Theodosius consulted 1 . But the epigram addressed to the 
 military commander (duke) Jacob is his only direct mention of saint 
 and scripture, and surely suffices to shew his mind. 
 
 By the threshold of Peter, the ashes of Paul, 
 
 My verses, duke Jacob, misquote not at all ; 
 
 So the saints from the Alps the invaders repel ; 
 
 So Susanna the chaste lend her forces as well ; 
 
 So Thomas be with you instead of a shield ; 
 
 So Bartholomew go as your squire to the field ; 
 
 So whoever shall swim the chill Danube to fight, 
 
 Like the horses of Pharaoh be lost to your sight ; 
 
 So the sword of your vengeance lay Gothic hordes low ; 
 
 So the blessing of Thecla add strength to your blow ; 
 
 So your guest by his death yield the glory to you; 
 
 While the bottles outpoured shall your dryness subdue ; 
 
 So your hand ne'er be stained by the blood of a foe ; 
 
 Those verses, duke Jacob, I pray you, let go. 
 
 Point is added to the opening of this little piece by the fact 
 that the basilica of St Paul had been begun by Theodosius and was 
 finished by Honorius, and bore the inscription 
 
 Theodosius coepit perfecit Honorius aulam 
 Doctoris mundi sacratam corpore Pauli 2 . 
 
 No wonder Orosius says paganus pervicacissimus, when Claudian 
 wrote as he did under the shade of this church, newly dedicated by 
 his Emperor 3 . 
 
 As men are influenced by their environment, I had the curiosity 
 to note all passages in which I could find anything that looked at 
 all like specific knowledge of the scriptures. Had he any know- 
 ledge of them ? " Pharaoh's horses " answer yes. But did they 
 make any impression on him ? I give a list of these passages, 
 which, liberally interpreted, might be referred to some scriptural 
 parallel. 
 
 1 Augustine, C. D. v. 26. Praef. Eutrop. ii. 39 and Eutrop. i. 312. Soz. 
 vii. 22. 
 
 3 See Gregorovius, City of Rome, i. 100, and the famous poem of Prudentius 
 on the churches of Saints Peter and Paul and their pilgrims. (Peri Steph- 
 anon, 12.) 
 
 3 In triumphing over Eutropius he speaks of the pias aras (the Christian 
 church) where the eunuch took sanctuary. 
 
 G. 16
 
 242 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Ruf. ii. 442 54. The fall of Eu- Isaiah xiv. 12. How art thou 
 
 finus and the movement of hell fallen from heaven, Lucifer 
 
 to meet him. Hell from beneath is moved 
 
 for thee. 
 Ruf. ii. 474. A hell without class Rev. xx. 12, 13. (More probably 
 
 distinctions and an examination Neo-Platonic, cf. Hermes Trism. 
 
 of lives. (ed. Bipont.) p. 312.) 
 
 Cons. Stil. i. 84. Tune exultasse Job xxxviii. 7. 
 
 ckoreis astra ferunt. 
 vi. Cons. Hon. 523. Simile of Isaiah Ixi. 10. 
 
 mother preparing bride for her 
 
 husband. 
 Laus Serenae 94. Omina non audet Luke ii. 19. 
 
 genetrix tarn magna fateri \ sue- 
 
 cessusque suos arcani conscia 
 
 voti | spe trepidante fovet. 
 R. P. ii. 94 of flowers : Parthica Matthew vi. 29. Solomon in all 
 
 quae tantis variantur cingula his glory. 
 
 gemmis \ regales vinctura sinus. 
 
 To these let me add parallels Dr Hodgkiu suggests : 
 
 b. Get. 625632. Alaric's mother Judges v. 2830. The mother of 
 
 wanted Roman ladies as slave Sisera. 
 
 girls. 
 
 Exordium to In Rufinum i. Psalm Ixxiii. 
 
 In Ruf. ii. 249 50. Non est victoria Prov. xvi. 32. 
 
 tanti, etc. 
 
 None of these is very convincing. Claudian may have known 
 something of the Christian scriptures, but I doubt if it was very 
 much. One striking coincidence with Christian language I believe 
 to be accidental. In one of his pieces of embroidery he intro- 
 duces the child it was hoped the Empress Maria might bear a 
 child, however, never born. Sacri Mariae partus 1 is bis phrase, 
 and it has a strange suggestion to our ears, which I do not think it 
 had at the time. The Christian thought of the day had not reached 
 that point of view, and it would not occur to Claudian, and perhaps 
 hardly to his Christian readers, that the words might be taken in 
 another sense than that meant. 
 
 1 Cons. Stil. ii. 342. Almost everything connected with an Emperor is 
 sacred, even the wounds his hunting spear makes. Even in business prose 
 Symmachus, reserving cases for the Emperor's decision, refers to it as sacrum 
 oraculum. Brockhaus, Prudentius, pp. 252, 294, brings out the fact that, in 
 spite of the stress laid by Catholic archaeologists on representations of the 
 Virgin in Christian art, the language and tone of Prudentius are decidedly 
 against the theory that she yet received any special honours ; she is still a 
 Nebenfigur. So Gregorovius, Rome in the Middle Ages, i. 103. The cult of the 
 Virgin was as yet not officially recoguized in the 4th century.
 
 Claudian 243 
 
 But whatever heathens may have thought or wished, it was 
 inevitable that their beliefs must be affected by the presence of 
 Christianity. The Reformation caused the Counter Reformation 
 and thus affected the Papacy. The Disruption in Scotland in 1843, 
 by creating the Free Church, gave new life to the Established 
 Church. So heathenism is not the same after as before the dis- 
 semination of Christianity. Too much stress may be laid on this, 
 it is true, for there was a general revival of religion contempo- 
 raneously with the spread of the Gospel, which aided it but is 
 hardly to be traced to it. Marcus Aurelius doubted but sacrificed. 
 In Apuleius we may first read the general drift of this revival. 
 Juvenal has indeed a curious hint of the future faith of heathenism, 
 when he writes of the gods Carior est illis homo quam sibi, but the 
 acceptance of this as the great feature of the old religion comes 
 later. 
 
 At the end of the fourth century heathen thought in the West 
 has reached a genial if rather shallow optimism, whose cardinal 
 doctrine is what Ammianus calls benignitas numinis 1 , the kindliness 
 of the divine. It is the philosophy of Omar Khayyam's pot, whose 
 conclusion to the debate on the potter is 
 
 "He's a good fellow, and 't will all be well." 
 
 We have seen how Claudian held that the universe rests on 
 love 2 , and that mercy makes us like the gods while in all else we are 
 inferior 3 . Elsewhere he dilates further on Mercy, the eldest of the 
 gods, the guardian of the universe, who ended chaos and brought 
 the world into light, who chooses man for her temple, and teaches 
 peace, forgiveness, gentleness, " after the example of the heavenly 
 Father (aetherii patris exemplo), who, though he shakes the world 
 with his thunder, directs his shafts upon the rocks and sea monsters, 
 and sparing of our blood uses his bolts upon the woods of Oeta 4 ." 
 Thus the problem of the seeming aimlessness of heaven's judgments 
 is solved. The warm springs of the Aponus are a witness to 
 heaven's goodness. " Who dare ascribe such services to Chance ? 
 Who denies that the gods ordained all this? The great Father 
 (ille pater rerum), who allots the aeons to the stars, when he gave 
 
 1 Amm. Marc. xxi. 1, 9. 
 
 2 iv. Cons. Hon. 284 Nonne vides operum quod se pulcherrimus ipse mundus 
 amore liyet. 
 
 3 iv. Cons. Hon. 277 sola deos aequat dementia nobis. It sounds like a 
 correction of Lucretius if he really was still read. 
 
 4 Cons. Stil. ii. 628. Cf. Synesius, Ep. 31. 
 
 162
 
 244 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 the sacred first beginnings of heaven gave thee, and pitying our frail 
 tenure of our form bade earth give forth streams of healing, and the 
 waters that should stay the stern distaffs of the fates gushed forth 
 upon the hills 1 ." Retribution is the lesson of Rufinus' fall, while on 
 the other hand heaven rewards the good, for he tells the story of 
 the so-called Thundering Legion "whether Chaldean strains with 
 magic rite thus armed the gods, or, as I think, the character of 
 Marcus won all the care of the Thunderer 2 ." The sum of his 
 criticism of the Universe may perhaps be given in these words 
 of his, "Nature has given to all to be happy if a man but know 
 how to use the gift 3 ." 
 
 In the Rape of Proserpine*, Claudian is telling again the story 
 that had charmed mankind for a thousand years, but I seem to find 
 even in the fragment of it, the three books which are all we have, 
 elements of the poet's own. His tale is incomplete but it is yet 
 instinct with beauty and sorrow. The atmosphere is not that of 
 the Homeric hymn to Demeter. It could not be. It more nearly 
 recalls Apuleius' story of Cupid and Psyche in its richness of colour 
 and prettiness, the humanity of its gods and its suggestions of some 
 deeper meaning. The whole story seems re-conceived, and the new 
 treatment differs from the old, much as a fairy tale of Andersen's 
 differs from one of Grimm's collection. The wistful imagination 
 of the modern has read something of himself and his day into the 
 legend of divine sorrow. 
 
 It opens not very well. Pluto's rhetorical rage at being without 
 a wife seems ludicrous, when the Fates at once intervene with the 
 words, "Ask Jove and thou shalt have a wife." But when we come 
 to Ceres and Proserpine it is very different. Fearful of losing her 
 child, Ceres hides her in Sicily and then goes to visit Cybele in 
 Phrygia. Venus is sent by Jove to Proserpine, and to disarm 
 suspicion takes with her the virgin goddesses Pallas and Diana; 
 yet her path gleams like a comet's trail of boding, for Venus in 
 Claudian, as in Apuleius, is a somewhat malign figure. They find 
 
 1 Minor Poems, 26. Aponus a medicinal spring near Padua, cf. Lucan vii. 
 193. Cf. Amm. Marc, xxi. 1, 9, on augury, which benignitas numinis grants to 
 mankind to help them through the world. 
 
 2 vi. Cons. Hon. 349 sen, quod reor, omue Tenant is \ obsequium Marci 
 mores potuere mereri. Is this a quiet correction of the common Christian 
 legend ? 
 
 3 In Ruf. i. 215 Natura beatis \ omnibus esse dtdit si quis cognorcrit itti. 
 
 4 The reader may be at once referred to Mr Pater's essay on The Myth of 
 Demeter and Persephone in his Greek Studies for a genuinely sympathetic 
 account of this poem. On one point I differ from him, for I cannot prefer 
 Ovid's story of the two goddesses.
 
 Olaudian 245 
 
 her at her embroidery "the description of which" says Mr Pater 
 "is the most brilliant of his pictures, and, in its quaint confusion of 
 images of philosophy with those of mythology, anticipates something 
 of the fancy of the Italian Renaissance." Let me give it in 
 Mr Pater's translation. 
 
 " Proserpina, filling the house soothingly with her low song, was 
 working a gift against the return of her mother, with labour all to 
 be in vain. In it, she marked out with her needle the house of the 
 gods and the series of the elements, showing by what law, nature, 
 the parent of all, settled the strife of ancient times, and the seeds 
 of things disparted to their places ; the lighter elements are borne 
 aloft, the heavier fall to the centre ; the air grows bright with heat, 
 a blazing light whirls round the firmament; the sea flows; the 
 earth hangs suspended in its place. And there were divers colours 
 in it; she illuminated the stars with gold, infused a purple shade 
 into the water and heightened the shore with gems of flowers, and, 
 under her skilful hand, the threads, with their inwrought lustre, 
 swell up in momentary counterfeit of the waves ; you might think 
 that the seaweed 1 flapped against the rocks, and that a hollow 
 murmur came creeping over the thirsty sands. She puts in the five 
 zones, marking with a red ground the midmost zone, possessed by 
 burning heat ; its outline was parched and stiff ; the threads 
 seemed thirsty with the constant sunshine, on either side lay the 
 two zones proper for human life, where a gentle temperature reigns ; 
 and at the extremes she drew the twin zones of numbing cold, 
 making her work dun and sad with the hues of perpetual frost. 
 She paints in, too, the sacred places of Dis, her father's brother, 
 and the Manes, so fatal to her ; and an omen of her doom was not 
 wanting ; for, as she worked, as if with foreknowledge of the future, 
 her face became wet with a sudden burst of tears. And now in the 
 utmost border of the tissue she had begun to wind in the wavy line 
 of the river Oceanus, with its glassy shallows ; but the door sounds 
 on its hinges and she perceives the goddesses coming." 
 
 Next day the three goddesses go forth with many nymphs to 
 gather flowers which Zephyr has made grow to greet her in a lovely 
 scene. It should be noticed here, as Mr Mackail has remarked, 
 that Claudian's treatment of nature leans to the old method, the 
 rhetorical, the Alexandrine, and is very different from Ausonius' 
 work in the Moselle. Here once more Claudian is essentially 
 
 1 Mr Pater's " sea- wind " seems a misprint of his editor's in view of Claudian's 
 algam.
 
 246 Life and. Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 decorative. Proserpine, interested beyond her comrades, plucks 
 and twines, and " crowns herself without thought a fatal augury 
 of her wedlock." The ground rocks and Pluto appears and bears 
 her off, his horses plunging at the light. The goddesses Diana 
 and Pallas would rescue her, but a pacific clap of thunder forbids. 
 As he drives, Pluto tries to console his bride, but not quite as he 
 does in the Homeric hymn when her return to earth is threatened. 
 " Count not the daylight lost. We have other stars, and thou shalt 
 
 see a clearer light and marvel yet more at the sun of Elysium 
 
 Nor shalt thou lack grassy meadows, where lapped by gentler 
 
 Zephyrs fadeless flowers breathe Thou shalt rule rich Autumn 
 
 and ever be blest with yellow fruits Purpled kings shall come 
 
 to thy feet, mingling with the throng of poor folk. Thou shalt 
 condemn the guilty; thou shalt give rest to the good." (Tu 
 requiem latura piis.) Not so the Homeric hymn, but " Thou shalt 
 have vengeance of such as do thee wrong, whosoever shall not all 
 their days do thee honour with sacrifices." The conception is very 
 different. It is not merely the contrast between the vindictive and 
 juridical spirit of Greek and Roman, but between the earlier and 
 the later days. " Rest for the good " had perhaps never been such 
 an object of desire. 
 
 Again, the descent of Proserpine into hell is new and strange. 
 The souls gather to meet her, thick as autumn leaves, many as the 
 waves or the sands, as the god drives home his bride, " suffering a 
 smile to play on his lips, and unlike his wonted self." The pale 
 region rejoices and the nations of the buried triumph. The eternal 
 night permits less palpable darkness. The penalties of the damned 
 are relaxed, and death keeps holiday. One has seen something like 
 this before, though it was not in the classics, but in the apocryphal 
 gospel, which tells of another descent into hell and the rejoicing of 
 the dead. Did Claudian think of it, or is it the same instinct which 
 gave rise to the apocryphal story asserting itself again ? 
 
 With the third book we come to Ceres, the Mater Doloroxa, as 
 she has been called, of heathenism. Jove summons the gods and 
 explains the design behind his action. To waken mankind from 
 the sloth and lethargy of the golden age, he has let it pass away 
 not that he envies man, for gods may not feel ill-will nor do hurt 
 but want must be nurse and breeder of all good. Yet under the 
 change Earth complains of her sterility. So he has brought this 
 grief upon Ceres, and it is decreed that she wander over sea and 
 land in yearning sorrow, till in joy for learning how to find her
 
 Claudian 247 
 
 daughter she give corn to men, but none of the gods must help her. 
 Thus a moral purpose is given to the old story it hardly knew 
 before. Aeschylus has shewn us the divine sufferer for mankind, 
 who paid a cruel penalty for the blessings he had given them, but 
 here is one whose sufferings are the very means towards the 
 blessings to be given. They are involuntary, but underlying them 
 is a great divine design. 
 
 Ceres, moved by strange dreams, returns to Sicily and finds the 
 empty house, and as she crosses the desolate hall she lights on the 
 web her daughter was embroidering, over which the spider is 
 weaving his web. Yet she wept not nor mourned ; only she prints 
 kisses on the fabric, and gathers up the work-things her daughter's 
 hands had touched and presses them to her bosom for her. This 
 episode is Claudian's own. The introduction of the spider busy at 
 what had been the daughter's labour of love, and the contrast, 
 suggested but not pictured with its "sorrow's crown of sorrow," 
 mark Claudian's highest level of poetic feeling 1 . 
 
 The old nurse (like the nurses in the tragedies) tells her tale, 
 which is a little too pretty perhaps for epic ; and we hear Ceres call 
 out on the gods, angry and distraught ; and then when they answer 
 not, sad and downcast, she prays at least, as a mother would, to 
 know her daughter's fate : 
 
 hoc tantum liceat certos habuisse dolores. 
 
 The poem closes with a striking picture of her standing at night 
 upon Etna, torch in hand, while the light falls upon the waters far 
 and wide. 
 
 So much we have of a poem, in which I think it is not hard to see 
 a deeper vein of thought than we find in the poet's panegyrics. He is 
 not playing with his theme as Ovid played with it, but he reads in it a 
 moral significance. How he would have worked this out we cannot 
 
 1 It may seem harsh to be critical at this point, but though the idea be 
 beautiful, the expression of it seems to me to fail. Granted that the whole 
 poem is left unfinished and that this passage may be unrevised, it still shews 
 the marks of Claudian's habitual haste. There is a want of meditation about 
 the verses. They are not a final expression, but seem more like a rough note 
 for future use : 
 
 Divinus peril ille labor, spatiumque relictum 
 
 audax sacrilego supplebat aranea textu. 
 
 The spatium relictum differs little from conversational prose of shop or work- 
 room, and the adjectives audax and sacrilego are by no means inevitable. They 
 are weak in fact. Put alongside this almost any similar passage of Virgil 
 ignarum Laurens habet ora Mimanta and Claudian's weakness will be felt. 
 I have emphasized this, because this is a sort of crucial passage where a poet 
 must rise if he can.
 
 248 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 say, for like Proserpine's embroidery it is for ever unfinished. Still 
 we may not be far astray in holding that he means to justify the 
 ways of God to men. Of course his work here is not free from 
 the defects it shews elsewhere. It bears marks of haste and 
 cleverness and rhetoric, but still the poem has undeniable dignity 
 and beauty. 
 
 Liceat certos habuisse dolores ! This later Paganism was amiable 
 ~and on the whole cheerful. It had left behind the essential hope- 
 lessness and sadness of Virgil, and was happy and contented in 
 makeshift truth. It did not go below the surface very much. It 
 was not vitally concerned with realities, but dealt with dreams and 
 memories and hopes. Thus it wanted that depth of feeling and 
 conviction which come from contact with life, and the robuster 
 minds turned away. For those who really thought, who really 
 felt the weariness and darkness of the world, paganism, even though 
 reinforced by Neo-Platonism, had neither consolation nor hope. It 
 was not solid enough. Augustine, speaking of his sorrow as a young 
 man at his friend's death, writes : " The burden should have been laid 
 on Thee to be healed; I knew this, yet I would not and I could 
 not, for when I thought of Thee, Thou vast not to me anything 
 firm or solid" The dreams of Claudian, like those of Julian, were 
 beautiful, and some perhaps were true, but they lacked the cerium 
 Augustine sought and mankind with him. Volebam enim eorum 
 quae non viderem ita me cerium fieri ut certus essem quod septem et 
 tria decem sint. 
 
 Historians may debate the value of this or that statement of 
 Claudian's, and with reason. But they must admit his evidence on 
 the general conditions of the life of his day. Its pageants and 
 circuses and splendours, its magnificence and flunkeyism, its deso- 
 lation and wretchedness, he brings vividly before us. The Goths in 
 Greece and in Phrygia seem to haunt us, even when we are most 
 confidently assured that the Empire is saved and that its frontiers 
 will be wider than ever 1 . For his pictures of Gothic devastation 
 seem not to be so overdrawn as those are which shew us the smiling 
 and glorious Rome under Stilicho's wing. If he suffered, and he 
 certainly did suffer, as a poet by undertaking the literary defence of 
 Stilicho, it was not all loss, for Rome the Rome he loved in her 
 glitter and her misery, stands before us in his gorgeous series of 
 panegyrics as she could scarcely else have done. 
 
 1 Here for example is a tell-tale phrase solo poterit Stilichone medente \ 
 crescere Romanum vultius tectura cicatrix, Cons. Stil. ii. 204.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 PRUDENTIUS 
 
 Die tropaeum passionis, die triumphalem crucem. 
 
 Cath. ix. 83 
 
 EVERY man is influenced to a greater or less extent by his age 
 and his contemporaries, and we must understand these if we would 
 understand the man. His thoughts will be guided by those of 
 his time, for whether he agree or disagree, whether he lead or 
 follow he will think of what other people are thinking around him. 
 
 Prudentius was born in the middle of the fourth century, in 
 the midst of a cluster of great men. Jerome and Ambrose were 
 born in 340, Chrysostom in 347, Prudentius in 348, and Augustine 
 in 354. Prudentius was thirteen when Julian ascended the throne 
 and made the last attempt to galvanize heathenism into life, and by 
 his failure shewed the world that its day had passed. Athanasius, 
 a household name in every Christian land, died when Prudentius 
 was between twenty and thirty. He was thirty when the Goths 
 won their first great victory in 378 at Adrianople. He lived to 
 see Rome herself the Christian centre of a Christian world, 
 and perhaps died felix opportunitate mortis before she too fell 
 to the conquering Goth when Alaric sacked Rome in 410. It was 
 a century of great movements and great men interesting from 
 its dark beginning with the persecutions of Diocletian, Galerius 
 and Maximin to its end. It was the century when, triumphant 
 over foes without, as Prudentius loves to emphasize, the Church 
 had her first great world-wide fight with foes within to secure that 
 victorious Christianity should not prove after all another form of 
 heathenism. The councils from Nicaea onward mark the progress 
 of the struggle. And all the time there was this dark cloud of
 
 250 Life and Letters in tlie Fourth Century 
 
 barbarism threatening in the North a terrible background for all 
 this carnal and spiritual warfare. 
 
 Christianity, as we have seen, had won the day and had won 
 the world. It was no longer perilous to be a Christian and the 
 world rushed into the Church. We picture to ourselves an Athan- 
 asius and an Augustine as types of the age, but a far more typical 
 man is the great semi-Arian ecclesiastical diplomatist and politician 
 Eusebius of Nicomedeia. The world had swarmed into the Church 
 and taken the sacraments, but the result could have been pro- 
 phesied. The tone of Christian living and thinking grew lower and 
 lower. Even before now heathen influences had deeply coloured 
 much of the best Christian thought, but now the dye is un- 
 mistakable. The priesthood had grown great, thanks to St Cyprian 
 and his followers ; it now grew greater still. Saints and martyrs 
 took the place of eponymous heroes and demi-gods a change for 
 the better perhaps, for they were less immoral, but scarcely an 
 improvement on primitive Christianity. Eastern and Western 
 alike" had elevated the Supreme God to such a height that He was 
 out of reach of the universe, and now they began to introduce 
 the martyrs to bridge the gulf. And with the martyrs came their 
 relics, the tales of their passions, their tombs and their images, 
 pilgrimages to see all these wonders, and prayers at the shrines. 
 We shall find all this in Prudentius, and we must remember that 
 he was a Spaniard and in Spain began the worship of pictures 1 . 
 Simultaneously came in from outside heathen notions which turned 
 the simple rites of the early Church into mysteries. Let any one 
 read St Ambrose on baptism and contrast him with St Paul, and the 
 change in Christian thought will be felt. And with all this came a 
 lower tone of Christian living, and the gladiatorial games (not ended 
 till after Prudentius' death, and the subject of more than one 
 honourable appeal made by him) and the races and the theatres 
 (privatum consistoi'ium impudicitiae) divided with the churches 
 and the martyrs' shrines the interests of mankind, and as is usual 
 in such cases took more than their share. 
 
 Of all this and of the heresies with which the Church, especially 
 the Western Church, had to contend, we find abundant evidence 
 in Prudentius. Like most Western Christians he had little aptitude 
 
 1 See Dale, Synod of Elvira, pp. 292, 295. This Council met about 306 A.D. 
 and already found it necessary to forbid the use of images and pictures in the 
 churches. Pope Damasus, whose energy in this direction was epoch-making, 
 was also a Spaniard.
 
 Prudentius 251 
 
 for theological speculation and was intensely practical. Accordingly 
 with the rest he adopted the Nicene Creed as the final statement 
 of Christian truth, and except by accident turned neither to the 
 right hand nor to the left. 
 
 Prudentius was born in 348, probably in the Spanish town of 
 Caesaraugusta or Saragossa 1 . "His early age wept under the 
 cracking rods 2 ," he tells us, and leaves us to infer what other elements 
 there had been in his education. Probably, like most other boys, 
 he studied the two great subjects of the day grammar and rhetoric. 
 Ausonius, his contemporary (310 393), the poet of Bordeaux, 
 wrote a series of poems on his professors and it appears that most 
 of them were grammarians or rhetoricians. Both would use the 
 same text-bookVirgil. In every school of the Latin world 
 haerebat nigrofuligo Maroni, and as the grime gathered on Maro's 
 page the grammarian drew from it all the lessons letters can give- 
 grammar, prosody, style, archaeology, philosophy, history, religion, 
 and what not ? Bui while the rhetorician taught the youth to 
 write replies for Dido, he did not teach them the real meaning and 
 value of Virgil, as Macrobius' works plainly shew. Still Virgil 
 left his mark on this age of Latin literature too. They wept for 
 Virgil's Dido if not for the rhetorician's, and echoes of his music 
 passed into their verse. World and Church alike loved him and 
 canonized him in their own ways. 
 
 Juvencus, an elder Spanish contemporary of Prudentius, alludes 
 in the preface of his Evangelic History to Minciadae dulcedo 
 Maronis, and the same sweetness shaped Prudentius as a hundred 
 passages in his poems shew. Over and above his Virgil, he learnt 
 his Bible to such an extent, that M. Boissier finds rather more of 
 it in his poems than he thinks will be readily intelligible to modern 
 
 1 Tarraco and Calagurris have also been named as the poet's birthplace, but 
 opinion is generally in favour of Caesaraugusta. See Sixt, die Lyrischen Gedichte 
 des A. Prud. Clemens, p. 3, n. 1, where it is discussed at length. Brockhaus, 
 Aur. Prud. Clem. p. 15. 
 
 2 It is curious to find both that St Augustine (Conf. i. 9, 14) should have a 
 good deal to say about the rod, a subject to which he devoted much ineffectual 
 prayer in his boyhood to his parents' amusement ; and that Ausonius (Ep. 22, 
 29), in a letter designed to encourage his grandson, should give him a positively 
 tingling list of a whole armoury of scholastic implements, memories perhaps of 
 more active days. Elsewhere Prudentius gives a more particular account of 
 the hatefulness of school-life in the crowning martyrdom of the schoolmaster 
 Cassianus. It is not written, like Ausonius' description, from the teacher's 
 point of view, and the general conclusion seems to be in 11. 27, 28 : 
 
 doctor amarus enim discenti semper ephebo, 
 nee dulcis ulli disciplina infantiae est.
 
 252 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 readers 1 . At a later period in life he seems also to have studied 
 the apologists and perhaps others of the fathers. The influence 
 of Tertullian is particularly conspicuous in his works 2 . 
 
 On boyhood followed the toga of manhood, and taught him to 
 lie, he tells us, and wanton lust and selfish indulgence denied his 
 youth. This may be poetical license. His language reminds one 
 of St Augustine's Confessions, yet the question may fairly be 
 raised whether the poet had really a loose and ill-governed youth 
 to deplore like the saint (though injustice has been done to 
 Augustine here, as Loofs shews), or whether a highly sensitive 
 conscience, like Bunyan's, led him to over-estimate his youthful 
 depravity. When he speaks of learning to lie, falsa loqui, it should 
 be remarked that he is only using the common Christian description 
 of the study of rhetoric 3 . 
 
 Though he speaks of militia he was probably not in the army, 
 but in the civil service, of which the word is sometimes used 4 . He 
 rose to be twice a magistrate of noble cities,' dealt out Roman 
 law to the good, and was a terror to evildoers, and was finally 
 honoured by the Emperor and awoke to find a snowy head convicting 
 him of old age. He was fifty-seven, he tells us, and his tone has 
 suggested premature age. He looks back on his past life with 
 regret, honourable as it had clearly been, and asks in sadness, 
 " What useful thing have I done in all these years ? " He then 
 says he will now begin life in earnest. He will, he tells us, write 
 hymns day and night, war against heresies and unravel the catholic 
 faith, trample under foot the sacred things of heathenry, do despite 
 to Rome's idols, hymn the martyrs and praise the Apostles. 
 
 Accordingly some have supposed his poetical work to belong 
 to the latter years of his life, untouched till he was fifty-seven ! 
 But apart from the fact that he knows nothing of Stilicho's fall 
 in 408, which would seem to limit his activity to a short period, 
 
 1 Boissier, La Fin du Paganisme, ii. 115 "ces recits nous etant devenus moins 
 familiers." 
 
 2 See Brockbaus, Aurelius Prudentius Clemens in seiner Bedeutung fitr die 
 Klrche seiner Zeit, c. 8. I shall bave to refer again to this excellent mono- 
 graph. 
 
 3 Of. Paulinus to Ausonius (Ep. x.), God's light is obscured : 
 
 quam vis sophorum callida arsque rhetorum et 
 
 figmenta vatum nnbilant, 
 qui cor da falsis atque vanis ivibitunt 
 tantumque linguas instruunt. 
 
 Similarly St Augustine in his Confessions, e.g. iv. 2, 2. 
 
 4 E.g. Aug. Con/, viii. 6, 15, of an Ageus in Rebus. Sixt however (p. 5) 
 believes he was in the army, against Brockhaus and Puech.
 
 Prudentius 253 
 
 we can certainly date his second book against Symmachus 403 A.D. 
 ie, two years earlier than the date he himself gives for his 
 preface. It is surely more reasonable to assume he wrote this 
 preface on the completion rather than the inception of his book 
 of collected poems. 
 
 First, however, let us see what had been achieved by his 
 predecessors in Christian verse. The extraordinary poems of 
 Commodian, written in hexameters which suggest Evangeline quite 
 as much as the Aeneid, would hardly have been counted as 
 literature at all by cultured people. In fact it seems it was not for 
 such readers that they were intended J . We are told that Tertullian 
 wrote poems and Cyprian too, but the best editors group their 
 several poems as spurious works, and in three cases the same 
 piece appears amongst the pseudonyma of both fathers. More 
 genuine works are those of some men roughly contemporaries of 
 Prudentius. Damasus, Pope 366 A.D., wrote neat Ovidian verse 
 on Jerusalem, some hymns on the saints, a couple of acrostics 
 on our Lord's name, and a large number of poetical inscriptions 
 for the Catacombs, which under his care were becoming great 
 centres for pilgrimages. There are moreover some dull and rather 
 halting hexameters on Genesis (a fatally attractive theme at this 
 period), which have been attributed to Hilary of Poitiers, though it 
 is now believed they are not his work. I come now to two more 
 important poets. "Juvencus the presbyter," says St Jerome (Ep. 
 Ixx. 5), "in the reign of Constantine, set forth the history of our 
 Lord and Saviour in verse, and was not afraid to submit the 
 majesty of the Gospel to the laws of metre." Juvencus was a 
 Spaniard, a fellow-countryman of Damasus and Prudentius. His 
 harmony of the Gospels is a quiet and very neat piece of work, 
 holding to the original with extraordinary closeness. His metre 
 is most monotonous if correct. But such works have little interest, 
 however successful. St Ambrose of Milan wrote hymns for the 
 Christian day in iambic dimeters, one of them noble in its sim- 
 plicity, the others simple but hardly noble. These hymns were an 
 epoch-making innovation ; but Ambrose, if more serviceable as a 
 hymn-writer, is by no means equal to Prudentius as a poet. 
 
 Prudentius is after all the first really great Christian poet, 
 
 1 What pleasure was there for ears trained in Virgil in two such lines as 
 these ? (Carm. Apol. 942) : 
 
 nee mortuos plangunt nee lugunt more de nostro, 
 exspectantque vitam resurrectionemque futuram.
 
 254 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 towering over his fellow-Christians as Claudian did over the 
 heathen. It is not easy to-day to realize his significance, so 
 familiar are we with the union of Christian thought and poetry. 
 Prudentius lived in a day when men clung to old ways and old 
 themes, and he displays a certain independence and even originality 
 in daring to strike out a new path in literature. He broke away 
 from tradition, took an unfamiliar subject, and triumphantly shewed 
 mankind that it was capable of poetic treatment. 
 
 He is as strongly Roman in feeling and instinct as Claudian 
 himself, if possible more Roman than Claudian. He is as proud 
 of Rome's history, her victories and her lawgiving, her heroes and 
 patriots. He too has stood in the long succession and has had 
 his share, as Claudian never had, in the ruling of the Empire, and 
 the temper of the man of affairs clung to him. All he does has 
 the Roman mark upon it it is all directed to some practical end 1 . 
 But he is a Christian, and if possible he is a Christian before he 
 is a Roman. Ausonius passed for a Christian, but Prudentius, 
 in every line of his work, proclaims his faith and serves his Church 
 with all the energy of his being. It was the age of the victorious 
 Church, mistress of the Roman world, and not yet seriously dreading 
 the heathenism and savagery of the German. Prudentius writes 
 with the consciousness of victory. The cross is the triumphal 
 emblem of the labarum and has very little suggestion of suffering 
 about it. Yet the victory was not quite complete. Heathenism 
 lived on in a stubborn minority, and was ready to reclaim many 
 from among the Christian majority on slight provocation 2 . 
 
 Prudentius must from a child have heard many a tale of 
 martyrdom. The five edicts of persecution from 303 to 308 must 
 have fallen in his grandfather's, if not in his father's time, and 
 Prudentius had at the most receptive time of boyhood lived through 
 the reign of Julian (Apoth. 449), for whom it is interesting to 
 find he had like St Augustine a not unkindly feeling 3 . Conse- 
 
 1 Cf. his question when he reviews his life; quid nos utile tanti spatio 
 temporis egimus ? This is the old Eoman ideal of utile. Cf. Horace, Epp. 
 ii. 1, 163, the Roman inquired quid Sophocles et Thespis et Aeschylus utile 
 ferrent. 
 
 2 Augustine, Enarr, in Psalm, xcviii. 2 magis remanserunt idola in cordibus 
 paganorum, quam in locis templorum. 
 
 3 Cf. Apoth. 450 me puero, meinini, ductor fortissimus armis \ conditor et 
 legum, celeberrimus ore manuque \ consultor patriae . . .perfidus ille Deo, quamvis 
 non perfidus orbi. Julian as a man of action, a soldier, a lawgiver, appealed to 
 Prudentius, who would have cared little for his philosophy. 
 
 Augustine, C. D. v. 21 apostatae Juliani...egregiam indolem. For Augustine, 
 never a civil servant (unless as professor at Milan, perhaps), and writing after
 
 Prudentius 255 
 
 quently he has a good deal to say about idolatry, and if much 
 that he says was said before by Tertullian and others, still we 
 must not think it did not need to be repeated, or that our poet 
 was fighting a dead issue. And again, heresy called for attention. 
 
 We do our thinking so much in compartments that we do not 
 always realize to what extent things are mixed in this world. We 
 read of Julian, Valentinian, Stilicho, and we read of Athanasius, 
 Jerome and Augustine, but we do not always properly correlate 
 the spheres in which they moved. Prudentius was the contem- 
 porary of them all, and in a measure entered into the life of 
 them all. He saw the Roman world as a whole still, though 
 there were already signs of the ultimate cleavage of East and 
 West. Various questions rose in his mind. Why had God so 
 markedly throughout all these centuries subdued people after 
 people to Rome, and welded the world into one 1 ? Long ago 
 Virgil had seen mankind under Roman sway, and in Prudentius' 
 own day Claudian was writing nobly of Rome's imperial destiny, 
 for he saw the Roman world a world of Romans, and he was 
 himself the symbol of his age, a Roman poet of Egyptian birth and 
 Greek education. 
 
 Haec est in gremio victos quae sola recepit, 
 humanumque genus communi nomine fovit, 
 matris non dominae ritu ; tivesque vocavit 
 quos domuit nexuque pio longinqua revinxit. 
 
 Cons. Stil. iii. 150. 
 
 But Claudian's reason would not satisfy Prudentius. The true reason 
 lay outside Claudian's range. 
 
 Prudentius rises to the problem in the very spirit of St Paul. 
 He sees that the object of the unification of mankind under the 
 sway of Rome was the unification of mankind under the sway of 
 Christ. There was to be one earthly and one heavenly empire, 
 the one in order to the other ; mankind was to be one in Rome 
 that it might be one in Christ. Christ was the author of Rome's 
 greatness for Himself. This was a new idea. 
 
 Alaric's capture of Home, it was impossible to have Prudentius' feeling for Home 
 and the Empire. He had to find God's ideal state elsewhere. 
 
 1 Not everybody asked such questions. Cyprian, for example (Quod idola 
 dei non sunt, 5), is content to say reyna autem non merito accidunt sed sorte 
 variantur.
 
 256 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Felices, si cuncta Deo sua prospera Christo 
 principe disposita scissent ! qui currere regna 
 certis ducta modis Romanorumque triumphos 
 crescere et impletis voluit se infundere saeclis. 
 
 Adv. Symm. i. 287. 
 
 Vis dicam quae causa tuos Romane labores 
 in tantum extulerit ? quis gloria fotibus aucta 
 sic cluat, impositis ut mundum frenet habenis ? 
 Discordes linguis populos et dissona cultu 
 regna volens sociare Deus, subjungier uni 
 imperio quidquid tractabile moribus esset, 
 concordique jugo retinacula mollia ferre 
 constitute, quo corda hominum conjuncta teneret 
 religionis amor : nee enim jit copula Christo 
 digna nisi implicitas societ metis unica gentes. 
 
 Adv. Symm. ii. 582. 
 
 Christe numen unicum, 
 splendor, virtus Patris, 
 factor orbis et poll 
 atque auctor horum moenium: 
 
 qui sceptra Romae in vertice 
 rerum locasti, sanciens 
 mundum Quirinali togae 
 servire et armis cedere : 
 
 ut discrepantum gentium 
 mores et observantiam, 
 linguasque et ingenia et sacra 
 unis domares legibus. 
 
 Steph. ii. 413. 
 
 Hoc actum est tantis successibus atque triumphis 
 Romani imperil ; Christo jam tune venienti, 
 crede, parata via est. 
 
 Adv. Symm. ii. 618. 
 
 It follows then that heathenism is an obstacle to God's designs, 
 but not the only one. When the fighting is at an end in the 
 Psychomachia and every vice is vanquished, a new enemy is 
 discovered within the ranks of the victors Discord or Heresy, 
 and the names of Photinus and Arius occur immanes feritate lupi 1 . 
 
 1 Curiously enough this is Prudentius' only reference to Arius. The West 
 was as yet little troubled about Arianism. Justina and the Germans were 
 the only Western Arians of any importance. As a general rule the heretics 
 Prudentius attacks are those against whom Tertullian has supplied him with 
 ammunition.
 
 Prudentius 257 
 
 Heresy has to share the fate of Idolatry, Lust, and other enemies, 
 and then the temple of God is built within the soul. So in the 
 case of the world Heresy mars God's intended unity, and must 
 be done away. To what this led we see in the case of a younger 
 contemporary, Nestorius, the bishop of Constantinople, who asked 
 the Emperor to give him earth clear of heretics and he would 
 assure him of heaven in return. Fate's revenges are interesting. 
 Nestorius was an arch-heretic ere he died. Prudentius is very 
 far from such violence, and would use no force with heretic or 
 heathen. In fact he would not use violence even with idols, but 
 cites with evident approval the decree of Theodosius that as works 
 of art they are to be preserved the workmanship of great artists, 
 fairest ornaments of our land 1 . 
 
 We may now turn to the works of Prudentius and pass them 
 in rapid review. All of them are practical. His theological poems 
 are directed to the end of presenting the true faith to his fellow 
 Christians in an attractive form and at the same time clear of 
 error. The Daily Round (or Cathemerinon) displays the same 
 ethical tendency employing abundant Scripture to make all aspects 
 of our life conform with our Lord's, each action recalling His, for 
 as He redeemed us by sharing our life, we rise by associating His 
 own with ours. 
 
 Beginning then with the two theological poems, the Hamar- 
 tigenia and the Apotheosis, we find Prudentius displays remarkable 
 ease and grace in handling well and poetically subjects which 
 appear difficult and unpromising. He shews great skill in the 
 vivid illustration of abstruse doctrines, and by glowing language, 
 range and insight he achieves passages of distinction and elevation. 
 His theology, if not original, is at least intelligent, though as I 
 have said he occasionally slips a little one way or the other from 
 the true Athanasian position. These poems have been pronounced 
 to be his best, and the poet has been compared with Lucretius for 
 the enthusiasm and the poetic feeling with which he presents his 
 views 2 . 
 
 The Hamartigenia deals with the origin of evil and with 
 
 1 c. Symm. i. 502 ; cf. Steph. ii. 481. See Gregorovius, Rome in the Middle 
 Ages (translation), i. 61, 76 7. Cod. Theod. 16, 10, 8 aedem in qua simulacra 
 feruntur posita, artis pretio quam divinitate metienda, jugiter patere publici 
 consilii auctoritate decernimus. 
 
 2 See Brockhaus, op. cit. p. 165, who prefers these Hexameter poems; and 
 Boissier, P. P. ii. who gives the higher praise to the lyrical poems (p. 107), but 
 compares the others with Lucretius ( 3). 
 
 G. 17
 
 258 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Marcion and his two gods, following mainly the lines of Tertullian's 
 first two books against Marcion. If Marcion will maintain dividuum 
 regnare Deum, Nature at least knows but one God. If two Gods, 
 why not more? Si duo sunt igitur, cur non sunt multa Deorum 
 millia? One of Marcion's gods is author of evil and of the 
 Old Testament, and maker of man and the universe, but he is 
 more a devil than a god. Inventor vitii non est d#us. And then 
 we have the story of Satan's revolt and his envy of man, of man's 
 fall, and nature's corruption, the consequence of that fall. It is a 
 striking passage of some length, tracing the painful and shameful 
 results of man's first sin, and exhibiting the general depravation 
 of the senses, though at the beginning it was otherwise, for God 
 saw His work that it was good (214 251). Then after a good 
 deal of further discussion, and a prodigious parable from nature 
 turning on the life-history of the viper 1 which illustrates sin being 
 its own eventual punishment, we have the great question, Why 
 does God permit evil? 
 
 si non wit Deus esse malum cur non vetat? (641) 
 
 And the familiar and perhaps only answer : 
 
 non fit sponte bonus cut non est prompta potestas 
 
 velle aliud * * (691) 
 
 probitate coacta 
 gloria nulla venit sordetque ingloria virtus. (694) 
 
 Man has a free choice, and so we come to lines which recall 
 Browning. 
 
 Nunc inter vitae dominum mortisque magistrum 
 consistit medius: vocat hinc Deus inde tyrannus 
 ambiguum atque suis se motibus altemantem. (721) 
 
 No, when the fight begins within himself 
 
 A man's worth something. God stoops o'er his head 
 
 Satan looks up between his feet both tug 
 
 He's left himself i' the 
 
 There follow illustrations from Lot and Naomi's daughters- 
 in-law and bird catching, with an allusion to the Two Ways 
 that wonderful parable, popular from the days of Hercules' choice, 
 and in Prudentius' hands reminding one of Bunyan's Hill Difficulty 
 
 1 This may be found in part in Pliny, N. H. x. 62. The young vipers eat 
 their way out of their mother, so killing her. Thus 'sin, having conceived, 
 bringeth forth death.' Plutarch (Ser. Num. Vind. end) quotes this viper as 
 Pindar's.
 
 Prudentim 259 
 
 and its alternatives. And so to pictures of Heaven and Hell, which 
 may be rendered into English as follows : 
 
 Then, of foreknowledge, did the Father set 
 
 Murk Tartarus to burn with streams of lead. 
 
 Pitch and bitumen fill the infernal sluice, 
 
 Sunk deep in darkling hell. Beneath he bade, 
 
 Deep under Phlegethon's malignant wave, 
 
 The greedy worm to live and prey on guilt 
 
 Perpetual. For He knew Whose breath had given 
 
 Immortal life to this our bodily frame, 
 
 A soul from His own lips, that cannot die, 
 
 Nor climb again the sphere, from whence it came, 
 
 Once sin-stained, but must sink within th' abyss 
 
 That burns for ever. Like immortal years 
 
 To worm and flame and punishment He gave, 
 
 That, as the soul should never die, the pang 
 
 Should know no death. The tortures waste and feed 
 
 Their food eternal. Death itself forsakes 
 
 Their ceaseless groanings, and bids live and weep. 
 
 But, far remote, in fields of Paradise, 
 The prescient Majesty to spirits pure 
 Assigned rewards, to them that know not guilt, 
 That look not back upon Gomorrha's fall, 
 But fled with eyes averted from the gloom, 
 The wrath to fall upon a wretched world. 
 And first with easy flight they reach the stars, 
 Whence came God's breath to move the new-made man. 
 For since the downward weight of life no more 
 Burdens, nor any bond of iron clogs, 
 The glowing spark with speed reclimbs the air, 
 And scales the sky anew, glad to forsake 
 The limits of the alien prison-house. 
 Her child, new come from exile, Faith receives 
 To her maternal breasts, and bids enjoy 
 Heaven's pleasures, and recount the many toils 
 Known in this caravanserai of flesh. , 
 There on a couch of purple, soft reclined, 
 It tastes the sweetness of eternal flowers 
 And quaffs the nectar on its bed of rose. 
 While for the rich, whose smoke goes up afar, 
 Who thirst for water and the rains of heaven, 
 For all their prayers, it cannot put a hand 
 To the parched palate to allay the flame. 
 But marvel not, the blessed and the damned 
 Far, far apart are held, and th' interspace 
 Spreads vast between the spheres of bad and good. 
 
 (824866) 
 172
 
 260 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Here are elements from different sources, never mingled before, 
 but at least a new realm has been found for Christian art. The 
 poem ends with the prayer for a mild sentence upon the poet at 
 the last. 
 
 In the Apotheosis we have to do with a series of heretics who 
 misrepresent our Lord's nature. First of all the Patripassian is 
 confounded with references to the manifestations of Christ in the 
 Old Testament the common property of the defender of the faith 
 from Justin Martyr's days though as usual Tertullian is Pru- 
 dentius' more immediate inspiration. Then comes Sabellius, who 
 despoils God of Fatherhood by not allowing the Son. Gods are 
 many, but does any idolater really believe Jove or dog-faced 
 Anubis occupies the supreme throne ? Consult barbati deliramenta 
 Platonis, and despite cocks owed to Aesculapius, the philosophers 
 conclude their arguments with one god 1 . Christ was at once 
 God and man. It is only in Christ we understand Rome's 
 history. 
 
 Then the Jew has his turn and is confronted with legis in 
 effigie scriptum per enigmata Christum, and our poet grows eloquent 
 as he demands to know in what literature Christ is not now 
 famous : all the languages of Pilate's inscription proclaim Him ; 
 
 Hebraeus pangit stilus, Attica copia pangit, 
 
 pangit et Ausoniae facundia tertia linguae; (379) 
 
 and he rehearses the triumphs of the cross among Scythians, Goths, 
 Moors, and the world over, and the silencing of the world's oracles, 
 Delphi, Dodona, Ammon and so forth, at the birth of Christ, adding 
 a tale of his boyhood, how the heathen rites of Julian were baulked 
 by a German page who wore a cross 2 . The exiled Jew is being 
 punished for the death of Christ. With this he turns to the 
 Psilanthropists Homuncionites or Mannikinists as he calls them 
 and confronts them with our Lord's miracles, for which he goes 
 by preference to St John's Gospel, as that one of the four which 
 most clearly sets forth the deity of Christ. He discusses the nature 
 of the soul, which is made and not begotten by God, yet is not 
 corporeal (in corpore discos rem non corpoream) as was supposed 
 
 1 This flout at the philosopher is in Tertullian's vein, who mocked but 
 studied. Prudentius perhaps had no Greek. Neither had Augustine nor 
 Ausonius very much. The Greek titles of the books may be a fanciful imita- 
 tion of Virgil. 
 
 2 Brockhaus, p. 23, ingeniously makes the boy a German on account of his 
 hair e cuneo puerorum flavicomantum.
 
 Prudentius 261 
 
 by many in his day, e.g. by Augustine in earlier life. In this 
 connexion he drops at least one memorable line, 
 
 sed speculum deitatis homo esl. (834) 
 
 Lastly he deals with the Docetists who held Christ was a 
 phantasm, and really strikes out a fresh thought and a noble one. 
 
 Et quid agit Christus si me non susdpit? aut quern 
 
 liberat infirmum si dedignatur adire 
 
 carnis onus, manuumque horret monumenta suarum? (1020) 
 
 These lines may be paralleled by Browning's 
 
 I never realized God's birth before 
 How he grew likest God in being born. 
 
 Tantus amor terrae, he continues, tanta est dilectio nostri. So much 
 for the purely theological works of Prudentius. 
 
 We now come to his book Peri Stephanon or The Crowns 
 a set of fourteen hymns to martyrs, of very various metres and 
 merits. Many of the Saints are Spanish, so many as to give confir- 
 mation to the statement of his own Spanish origin. Others he had 
 found on his travels painted in sacred pictures in churches, com- 
 memorated by local usage, or told of in Damasus' inscriptions. 
 Thus he chiefly depends on verbal as against written traditions, 
 and a curious confusion hangs about his stories here and there. 
 Notably this is the case with Romanus and more strangely still 
 with Cyprian, for he has patched together incongruous legends 
 to the exclusion of real facts, actually confusing the great Cyprian 
 of Carthage with the converted magician Cyprian of Antioch. In 
 those hymns specially describing martyrdoms the general scheme 
 is a confession, torture and a miracle, but after all it must be 
 confessed that martyrology is generally a dull subject, and the 
 poet who deals with it is destined to repeat himself like a Poet 
 Laureate who makes birthday odes, and to charm as little. Pru- 
 dentius however did his best, for he had a Spaniard's love of the 
 Saints and a great enthusiasm for them, and he introduced some 
 new features not all of which are successful. In places his rhetorical 
 training shews itself very clearly. 
 
 The best of the hymns is perhaps the second, to St Lawrence, 
 a Spaniard and an archdeacon, who suffered at Rome under Decius.
 
 262 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 The complaint is made by the Praefectus Urbi that the Church 
 is hoarding wealth and hunting legacies : 
 
 et summa pietas creditur 
 nudare dulces lib&ros: 
 
 charges if not already true soon to be so. Lawrence has three 
 days to produce this wealth, and then brings forward a crowd of 
 pensioners, ne pauperem Christum putes. He is then committed to 
 the "gridiron," and thence utters a remarkable hymn from which 
 I have already quoted. He foresees (no doubt with the aid of the 
 poet's retrospect) a Christian Rome and a Christian Emperor who 
 will close the temples and keep as works of art what now are idols. 
 The hymn ends with a picture of the lights of the Senate, sometime 
 Luperci and Flamens, kissing the thresholds of martyrs' shrines, 
 while afar beyond Alps and Pyrenees the Spanish poet sees the 
 saint in heaven and implores his grace. 
 
 Audi benignus supplicem 
 Christi reum Prudentium. 
 
 One or two of the hymns border on the grotesque through the 
 exaggeration of the poet, who has, as M. Boissier says, le gout de 
 Vhorrible. He is apt too to be carried away by admiration for the 
 un-Christian mania for martyrdom which led many early Christians 
 to insult their neighbours and provoke authority to the great peril 
 of the Church, which condemned this unnecessary and dangerous 
 zeal 1 . The story of St Eulalia, a child martyr of Emerita, is told 
 trippingly in a dactylic metre, roughly the first half a Virgiliau 
 hexameter, which we also find in Ausonius 2 . G ermine nobilis 
 -Eulalia was a sadly precocious child who would be martyred, in 
 very truth a torva puellula. She insulted the praetor, declaimed 
 at large on idolatry, spat at the unhappy magistrate who was 
 really very gentle with her, kicked over the idols and thuribles, 
 and so achieved a martyrdom, the details of which a Spanish and 
 rhetorical poet could hardly be expected to spare us 3 . The story 
 
 1 See Dale, Synod of Elvira, p. 30. This Spanish Council (about 306) 
 forbade voluntary and aggressive martyrdom within a decade (say) of Eulalia's 
 exploit. It is interesting, in this connexion, to note first, that St Theresa in 
 1522, while still a little girl, had a similar childish ambition to be martyred by 
 the Moors, which was happily frustrated, for she grew to be one of the most 
 useful and sensible women in Spain ; and second, that Eulalia's name is still 
 familiar in Spain, being borne to-day by one of the King's sisters. 
 
 2 Sixt (p. 30) finds in the metre (as well as in the story) "etwas schwarmer- 
 isches" and a certain "stiirmisches Ungestiim." 
 
 3 Compare Claudian's "dissection of Rufinus" as Gibbon calls it. Boissier, 
 F. P. ii. 122, compares the Tragedies of the Spaniard Seneca.
 
 Prudentius 263 
 
 of St Cassianus the schoolmaster, delivered over for death to his 
 schoolboys, is amusing ; but while Prudentius took a pleasure in 
 a rhetorical elaboration of it he also felt it seriously, for when 
 he saw a picture of it all at Forum Cornelii on his way to Rome, 
 he was moved to prayer. His prayer was granted, and he wrote 
 this poem in grateful memory of it. One of the poems (iv.) is 
 a tour de force, perhaps in imitation of Martial's little epigram 
 (i. 62), on the towns of Italy and Spain and their literary glories, 
 but for poets Prudentius puts saints. The cities appear before 
 Christ on the Judgment- day bringing their saints, and Caesar- 
 augusta, the poet's own town, surpasses them all with no less than 
 eighteen martyrs crowded into sapphic verse a great achievement, 
 but scarcely poetry. The worst poem of the collection, as a work 
 of art, is the martyrdom of St Romanus. The poet has made the 
 mistake of developing the usual confession of a martyr into an 
 elaborate polemic against heathenism along with an exposition of 
 Christianity. These are drawn mainly from Tertullian, and are 
 witty and effective in their way, but forensic rather than philo- 
 sophic. They are also quite out of place and terribly delay the 
 action. The saint in a speech of two hundred and sixty lines 
 denounces heathenism, and even when his tongue is cut out, he talks 
 on for hundreds of lines more. A ridiculous episode in this poem 
 is that of another lamentably precocious child, who knows a good 
 deal too much Theology and Physiology for his seven years, and 
 who, when a familiar remedy fails 
 
 (pusionem praedpit 
 sublime tollant et manu pulsent nates'), 
 
 is put to death, while his mother sings a psalm to encourage him. 
 Romanus was a real historic character, but Eusebius' account of 
 his martyrdom (M. P. 2) is more reasonable. A poem on St 
 Hippolytus 1 gives an interesting account of the Catacombs, which 
 had become under Damasus' care a centre of interest for Christian 
 pilgrims, and with their traditions and pictures greatly influenced 
 Prudentius. The hymn to St Peter and St Paul, with descriptions 
 of their churches in Rome, is interesting and valuable as con- 
 temporary evidence on these famous places then recently built. 
 
 It is quite clear that the poet shares the popular view of the 
 Christian church of his day as to the saints. He had not the 
 
 1 The catacomb of Hippolytus was found by de Rossi in 1881, but the picture 
 which inspired Prudentius' poem has not survived. Sixt, p. 35.
 
 264 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 uneasiness of Augustine, but after all the Christian faith meant 
 more to Augustine in spiritual and intellectual implication than 
 to any of his contemporaries 1 . 
 
 The Psychomachia, which perhaps in view of the likenesses 
 it presents to Bunyan we may translate Holy War, has been 
 pronounced the richest of his works in colour and brilliance. 
 It was the most widely read of them all in the Middle Ages, which 
 means a good deal, for Prudentius was then one of the most 
 popular authors. No one was more universally read and imitated, 
 and no books, with the exception of the Bible, were so abundantly 
 provided with Old High German glosses as the Daily Round and 
 the Peri Stephanon. This book however has also great significance 
 from its influence on medieval art 2 . 
 
 The book may be considered from two points of view. It may 
 represent the progress and victory of virtue in the individual soul, 
 and no doubt it does, but it also suggests the victory of the faith 
 in the Roman world. The vices described are especially those 
 characteristic of Rome. Pride, for example, plumes itself on 
 military glory, and has the greatest scorn for the various unwarlike 
 and unmanly virtues of peaceful Christianity (11. 237 9). Luxury 
 "coming from the West" (clearly Rome) has all the air of that 
 Roman luxury and licence described by Jerome and Ammianus 
 Marcellinus (11. 310 ff.). Avarice "doffs the arms of hell and 
 transforms herself to fairness ; she becomes a Virtue, stern of mien 
 and garb, whom they call thrift (frugi), who loves to live carefully 
 ...and calls theft and covetousness by a sweet name, forethought 
 for the family " (11. 551 563) i.e. Avarice is the crowning virtue 
 of the Sabine farmer of the good old days. 
 
 The War is a series of single conflicts between Virtues and 
 Vices, in which the former invariably win. Lust is overcome by 
 Modesty by the virtue of the Virgin birth of our Lord : 
 
 inde omnis jam diva caro est quae concipit ilium ; (76) 
 
 majestate quidem non degenerante per ^lsum 
 
 carnis sed miseros ad nobiliora trahente. (80) 
 
 Patience waits for Anger to fall of itself. Pride stumbles into 
 
 1 Aug. de moribus eccl. cath. 34, 75 Novi multos esse sepulchrorum et pictura- 
 rum adoratores ; novi multos esse qui luxuriosissime super mortuos bibant et epulas 
 cadaveribus exhibentes super sepultos seipsos sepeliant et voracitates ebrietatesque 
 suas deputent religioni . . .nee mirum est in tanta copia populorum. 
 
 2 See Brockhaus, pp. 36, 165 n., and Schmitz, Die Gedichte des P. und ihre 
 Entetehungszeit, p. 9.
 
 Prudentius 265 
 
 a pit (which had been dug by Deceit), after reviling Humility and 
 her sister graces ; % 
 
 Justitia est ubi semper egens, et pauper Honestas. 
 
 Luxury, gorgeously described as she rides to the fray, comes nearer 
 winning the day, but is overthrown by Sobriety, who displays the 
 Vexillum sublime crucis, a favourite theme with Prudentius, who 
 has a pride in referring to the Cross, especially as a symbol of the 
 victory of Christianity. It is the triumphant cross of the labarum, 
 the monogram >|< which Constantine made Rome's standard, to 
 which the dragon-flags, so often to be found in Claudian and 
 Ammianus and elsewhere, have had to bow 1 . It may seem strange 
 to us that he has so little to say of the cross in its relation to 
 Christ's death, in its theological significance, or as an emblem of 
 Christian suffering. 
 
 Lastly, as I have said, Heresy is slain by Faith and torn in 
 pieces as the soldiers tore Rufinus in Claudian's poem. Then, 
 after eulogies on peace, recalling St Paul's chapter on Charity 
 (11. 769787), a temple is built to the design of the Apocalypse, 
 with gates and jewels as there described. Altogether it is a bright 
 and interesting work, though one is startled to find how Homerically 
 the Virtues treat the fallen Vices. 
 
 The Oathemermon or Daily Round is a collection of hymns 
 for the Christian's day, made more various and instructive by 
 long but acceptable and often impressive digressions into Christian 
 doctrine and Scripture story, which are often only very loosely, 
 if at all, connected with the immediate theme, and are further 
 developed in the same way themselves. Thus the hymns are not 
 adapted for singing in church, like those of Ambrose, which were 
 clearly their original inspiration, and the influence of which is 
 visible in them, especially in the first two. Prudentius however 
 does not seem to have meant his poems to be sung in church by 
 common worshippers, but to be read by persons of more or less 
 education. Yet while none of them has apparently ever been sung 
 at length, most of them have contributed to Christian hymnology, 
 for passages have been taken from them and used as hymns. The 
 Roman breviary contains about a dozen of these abbreviated hymns, 
 three for example being carved out of Prudentius' twelfth. The 
 
 1 See Claudian, In Ruf. ii. 363 f.; Amm. Marc. xvi. 10, 7 (an elaborate 
 description) and compare Prud. ar<f>. i. 35, 6. For the labarum see Prud. 
 Symm. i. 487, and Lactantius, M. P. 44. See Brockhaus, 73 n. On the cross 
 Neander, Church History, iii. 405 (Bohn).
 
 266 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 famous hymn to the Holy Innocents, Sahete flares martyrum, and 
 the equally famous Jam maesta quiesce querella have thus been 
 taken from Prudentius' poems for Epiphany (xii.) and for the Burial 
 of the Dead (x.). 
 
 For poetic touch and thought, for delicacy and brightness, the 
 Daily Round ranks with the best of Prudentius' work. Quotations 
 and abstracts never do a poet full justice, but they must suffice. 
 The hour of lighting the lamps would hardly seem a promising 
 theme for a hymn. But Prudentius strays very happily to the 
 burning bush, and thence in Moses' company to the Red Sea and 
 the desert and the fiery pillar, and draws from it all very skilfully 
 a parable of Heaven. There are one or two odd little touches in 
 the piece, e.g. even spirits sub Styge have holiday on Easter Eve 1 ; 
 candles and lamps are described with some detail and grace, and 
 classed as God's gifts a pretty thought for artificial lights are 
 given us 
 
 ne nesdret homo spem sibi luminis 
 
 in Christi solido cor pore conditam. (Cath. v. 9, 10) 
 
 When he writes a hymn (vi.) for sleep-time, he tells of Joseph 
 interpreting dreams in prison and of St John on Patmos. The 
 sign of the cross on brow and heart before going to bed will keep 
 one safe from evil dreams and evil demons. 
 
 The hymn "for all hours" is a remarkably graceful poem in 
 trochaic tetrameters, setting forth Christ's glory as shewn by the 
 fulfilment of prophecy in His earthly life. Sprung from the Father's 
 heart before the world was, He is Alpha and Omega, creator, 
 redeemer and judge. His birth of the Virgin, His Miracles, told 
 briefly one by one and with vigour, and lastly and chiefly His 
 Descent into Hell are sung in turn. It is not the suffering so 
 much as the triumph of the Cross which the poet emphasizes. 
 While sun and stars in our sky hide themselves, He bursts the 
 bars of Hell and with yellow light floods the caves of death. The 
 wiles of the Serpent have been in vain, his poison fails him, he 
 drops his hissing neck. The fathers and the holy ones rise with 
 joy, leave the tombs, and follow Christ as He rises a victor to 
 the tribunal of the Father, bearing back the peerless glory of 
 
 1 This hymn has been held to refer specially to the Easter vigil, a view not 
 without some plausibility, but the poet makes no definite reference to it, and 
 some antiquarians maintain it was not a practice of his day; Brockhaus, 
 pp. 87 8. Sixt, p. 11, holds that the hymn was not written for the vigil but 
 that the poet after his digressive manner touches on it in verses 137 140.
 
 Prudentius 267 
 
 His passion to heaven, from whence He shall come yet again as 
 Judge. This Second Coming still held the minds of men, and 
 Prudentius tells of it in the hymn for sleep-time (v. 81 100), and 
 yet again in that for the Nativity (xi.), with something of the 
 majesty of the Dies Irae itself. 
 
 Peccator, intueberis 
 celsum coruscis nubibus, 
 dejectus ipse et irritis 
 plangens reatum Jletibus. 
 
 Cum vasta signum biicina 
 terris cremandis miserit, 
 et scissus axis cardinem 
 mundi mentis solvent; 
 
 Insignis ipse et praeminens 
 mentis rependet congrua, 
 his lucis usum perpetis, 
 illis gehennam et tartarum. 
 
 (Cath. xi. 101112) 
 
 The descent into Hell is the subject of a striking hymn 
 of Synesius, and is told in still more impressive prose by an 
 unknown Greek writer, whose work is now imbedded in the 
 so-called Gospel of Nicodemus 1 . But the Last Judgment seems 
 to have appealed far more to the Latin than to the Greek mind, 
 as no one need be told who has read the terrible last chapter 
 of Tertullian's de Spectaculis. And Tertullian, one might almost 
 say, was as much Prudentius' " master " as he was Cyprian's. 
 
 A few stanzas from the hymn "Before Meat" (iii.), translated 
 into English as closely as adherence to the original metre will 
 allow (the original is of course not rhymed), may give some im- 
 pression of the poet's manner of treating his subjects in his various 
 lyrical poems, though this one is not his strongest. The grace 
 of the Latin must not be expected. 
 
 Cross-bearer, kindly one, giver of light, 
 Maker of all things, and friend of most worth, 
 Born of the Word, of immaculate birth, 
 Equal of old with the Father in might, 
 Ere there was heaven or ocean or earth. 
 
 1 See the abstract on pp. 378381.
 
 268 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Come, for salvation is found in Thy smile, 
 
 Come and behold with beneficent gaze, 
 
 Giving us peace, as the bountiful rays 
 
 Stream from Thy face, that our banquet the while 
 
 Lit by Thy presence may be to Thy praise. 
 
 Come, Lord, for nothing without Thee is sweet, 
 Pleasure is none, there is nothing save gall, 
 If Thy good favour, O Christ ! Thou recall, 
 Savoureth nought of our drink or our meat 
 Faith be the sanctification of all. 
 
 God be it still that we taste in each dish, 
 Christ in the cup may our spirits descry : 
 Matter or mirth the light jests as they fly 
 All that we are, every act, every wish, 
 Be by the Trinity ruled from on high. 
 
 What would I now with the spoils of the rose? 
 Wherefore the fragrance of odours outpoured ? 
 Ours the true wine, the ambrosia, flows ; 
 Faith is the nectar the Christian heart knows, 
 Borne to us straight from the heart of the Lord. 
 
 Not for light ivy, sweet Muse, calls the time, 
 Erewhile the garland thou wontest to wear ; 
 Thread with the dactyl a coronet fair, 
 Weaving a mystical chaplet of rhyme, 
 Bind with the praise of the Saviour thy hair 1 . 
 
 What shall a soul of such origin ask, 
 Born to the aether and child of the light ? 
 Where shall it find it so worthy a task, 
 Praising its Maker, His gifts to recite 
 All the soul's music the theme shall unite. 
 
 He, it is He, to us all things doth yield, 
 Rulers of all He hath framed us to be ; 
 All that the earth or the sky or the sea 
 Bears in the flood or the air or the field, 
 These He made mine ; for Himself He made me. 
 
 Birds the dark craft of the fowler ensnares, 
 Whether the gin be his wile or the net, 
 Or the limed twigs for his quarry be set ; 
 Once the winged creatures alight unawares, 
 Caught in the tangle no freedom they get. 
 
 1 This stanza has been cited as evidence for the supposition, a priori most 
 probable, that Prudentius had served his apprenticeship in poetry on themes 
 which were not distinctively sacred. Sixt, p. 21.
 
 Prudentius 269 
 
 Lo ! through the waters with fold upon fold 
 Nets sweep the wandering swarms of the main ; 
 Whipped from the stream the fish struggles in vain, 
 Ne'er shall it make the fell hook loose its hold ; 
 Pleasure the silly mouth sought and found pain. 
 
 Lavish the bounty the rich acres bring ; 
 Ours the full ears of the cornland's increase, 
 Ours the luxuriant vineyards that fling 
 Tendril and twig forth to cluster and cling : 
 Ours the green olive the nurseling of peace. 
 
 God of His bounty in Christ giveth all, 
 
 All things are ours, all our wants he supplies ; 
 
 Far be from us the fell hunger that cries 
 
 Asking the death of the ox of the stall, 
 
 Lusting for flesh though the life-blood should fall. 
 
 Be the fierce banquet for races untamed ! 
 They may eat flesh, who in savagery live ; 
 Never 'mid us be such cruelty named ! 
 Lettuce and bean for our feeding were framed, 
 Guileless the banquet the garden shall give. 
 
 From the banquet of innocence the poet passes to the garden 
 of man's innocence, and tells of Adam and Eve and the serpent ; 
 of the fall of man and the virgin birth of Christ. Let it be enough 
 that man has once fallen ; now let temperance preserve him, for 
 there is another life and we shall rise again because Christ has risen. 
 
 The Dittochaeon is a series of quatrains designed to explain 
 sacred pictures in some church or churches. They have some 
 importance in the history of Christian art but not of literature. 
 
 We come lastly to the great work Against Symmachus. From 
 Augustus' day onward a statue of Victory had stood in the 
 Senate House, and at every meeting of the Senate an offering was 
 made to it. But on his visit to Rome in 357 Constantius had 
 image and altar removed. Julian restored them. Twenty years 
 later Gratian removed them again in 382. The heathen members 
 of the Senate presented to him a petition for the restoration of 
 the altar and the goddess, but were refused admission to his 
 presence. This rejection was due to the Christian Senators, who 
 through Pope Damasus communicated with St Ambrose. When 
 Gratian was killed by Maximus, they made a further appeal in 
 384 to Valentinian II. Symmachus presented their case in a 
 speech which survived and was so greatly and so generally admired, 
 that Ambrose, after prevailing on the Emperor to decline to take
 
 270 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 action, felt obliged to write a reply. Victory once more took her 
 place during the rebellion of Arbogast and Eugenius (393) and 
 was removed by Theodosius on his overthrowing the usurpers 
 (394). This altar was thus the standard of paganism, which could 
 hardly indeed hope to recapture the world but had a sentimental 
 feeling for retaining this last emblem. Even in 400 and again 
 in 404 Claudian was at special pains in his poetry to emphasize 
 that Victory was a goddess and one to whom Rome was deeply 
 indebted. So vital was the controversy. Symmachus' petition was 
 still read and admired, and offered a fair opportunity for attack. 
 Even later than this, beginning in 410 after the fall of Rome, 
 Augustine thought it worth while to spend years on the last 
 great refutation of heathenism, the De Civitate Dei, and to com- 
 mission Orosius to compile his history of the world's calamities 
 to shew that the effect of Christianity had been to lessen them. 
 
 Symmachus' petition may be very briefly analysed. He pled 
 for the restoration of the altar to the goddess, even though she 
 were but a name (numen and nomen), and of various immunities 
 to priests and vestals, which had just been taken away. It was 
 not a question between this and that religion. Everyone to his 
 taste and custom in religion. Every nation had its tutelary genius, 
 and Rome had hers. Let not antiquity go for nothing. The great 
 mystery of life could hardly be discovered by one line of search. 
 Rome personified pled for her old usages, for the Vestals and their 
 due, out of gratitude if for no other reason. In fact, famine and 
 disaster marked heaven's disapproval not, of course, of the Em- 
 peror's new religion, but of the neglect of the old religion. 
 
 To this St Ambrose made a vigorous reply. The old rites 
 had not, as alleged, defended Rome from Hannibal and the Gauls, 
 for example. Rome personified resents her victories being put 
 down to aught but her valour. She is not ashamed to be converted 
 in her old age. As for the great mystery God's voice reveals it 
 to us. Contrast seven Vestals with the multitude of Christian 
 virgins. Heavy burdens lay on Christian priests who must sur- 
 render their taxable property on ordination, while the wealth of 
 the Church was the revenues of the indigent. Why had the famine 
 been so slow in following its cause ? As for antiquity everything 
 advanced ; agricultural methods were bettered ; man himself grew ; 
 even Rome had adopted foreign rites. The temples never helped 
 Pompey, Cyrus or Julian, victory being more a matter of legions 
 than religions the bishop here anticipating Napoleon.
 
 Prudentius 271 
 
 In 404 Prudentius published his two books of hexameters on 
 the same theme. Boissier is right in saying the world was not 
 fully converted and men of letters were still heathen in their 
 libraries, and that a literary presentment of Christianity was still 
 sighed for by Christians of education 1 . Ambrose's reply was not 
 after all a match for the eloquence of Symmachus in the eyes 
 of people of taste, though he had out-mano3uvred the orator with 
 the Emperor. 
 
 Prudentius begins by saying Plato's dream of philosophers for 
 kings is realized in Christian Emperors, and proceeds to exhibit the 
 heathen Pantheon, as Tertullian had done before. Heathenism is 
 so long-lived because of early training, and he has a fine passage 
 on the heathen associations of childhood and growing years opening 
 out with further initiation into pagan rites. For a thousand genera- 
 tions Superstition was unchecked, and the tiny heir of the house 
 trembled and worshipped whatever his hoary grandsires displayed 
 for his veneration. He drank in error with his mother's milk ; his 
 first food was the sacred meal, his earliest sight the sacred candles 
 and the family gods growing black with holy oil. As a little child, 
 he saw the image of Fortune with her horn, and his mother pale 
 at her prayers before the sacred stone ; and he too would be lifted 
 by his nurse to kiss it in his turn. To it he made his baby prayers. 
 Without the house he saw the gods laurel-crowned on days of 
 festival and gala-days, and above all he was taught to worship 
 Rome (c. Symm. i. 197214). 
 
 He assails the gladiatorial games, and narrates the story of 
 Theodosius' homily to the Senate after the fall of Arbogast and 
 of the Senate's conversion 2 , and how sua secula Roma erttbuit, and 
 finally tells Symmachus that to a Christian Emperor he owes his 
 rise in the world. So much for the first book. It is interesting 
 throughout to remark the kindly and respectful way in which 
 Prudentius always speaks of Symmachus. Courtesy is not always 
 the mark of Christian controversy in the fathers. 
 
 In the second book he repeats Ambrose's points about victory 
 won by labor impiger, aspera virtus, about progress and other 
 
 1 At the beginning of the century Lactantius made the same complaint, 
 Instil, v. 1 Haec inprimis causa est cur apud sapientes et doctos et principes 
 liujus seculi scriptura sancta fide careat, quod prophetae communi ac simplici 
 sermone ut ad populum sunt locuti . . .adeo nihil verum put ant nisi quod auditu 
 suave est; nihil credibile nisi quod potest incutcre voluptatem. nemo rem veritate 
 ponderat sed ornatu. non credunt ergo divinis quiafuco carent. 
 
 ' 2 Zosimus, iv. 58, says none of the senators was converted, but then Zosimus 
 did not wish them to be and Prudentius did.
 
 272 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 things, but adds much of his own which is better and undreamt 
 of by Ambrose. Once more he approximates to Browning : 
 
 nonne hominem et pecudem distantia separat una ? 
 
 quod bona quadrupedum ante oculos sita sunt: ego contra, 
 
 spero. 
 
 Progress, man's distinctive mark alone, 
 Not God's, and not the beasts' : God is, they are, 
 Man partly is and wholly hopes to be. 
 
 If there is no future, he continues in fine declamation, let us eat 
 and drink and break every law at once. Where Symmachus intro- 
 duced Rome as speaking, Prudentius introduces God Himself telling 
 of man's creation, end and resurrection, and pleading for a temple 
 of mind not marble. Curiously enough, here as elsewhere, Pru- 
 dentius does not mention truth as belonging to the spiritual 
 temple. He makes great game of the genius of Rome, and of 
 immigrant gods some of whom Claudian had recently held up 
 as Rome's guardians (p. 239). 
 
 Non divum degener ordo 
 et patriot, extorris Romania adfuit armis. (535 6) 
 
 To allow this was treason to Rome it diminished her glory. 
 
 Non fero Romanum nomen sudataque bella 
 
 et titulos tanto quaesitos sanguine carpi. (550 1) 
 
 Rather it was God who had made Rome for His own ends, that 
 Rome might make mankind one, and so prepare the way for Christ. 
 Rome too is personified, congratulating herself on having sloughed 
 off her former taints, on being free from danger from the Goths, 
 through Christ and His servants, the Emperor and Stilicho, who 
 had just won the victory over the Goths at Pollentia 1 (402). The 
 Gauls had once captured Rome despite her gods, but now she 
 knows the Goths only by the hearing of the ear, and (vividly 
 drawn by the poet) she bids the Emperor climb the triumphal car 
 and come to Rome with Christ beside him. 
 
 As for the many ways to the great mystery, one is right if 
 rough and hard, and the others are wrong if pleasant, and his 
 language recalls Hesiod. The famine! nobody goes to the Circus 
 
 1 Was Pollentia a victory? Claudian's contemporary explanations to prove 
 that it was have made it seem doubtful. That it was a Roman defeat, as the 
 Goths have claimed, Prudentius' words prohibit our supposing.
 
 Prudentius 273 
 
 hungry ! and he concludes with an entreaty for the abolition of 
 the gladiatorial shows 
 
 nullus in urbe cadat cujus sit poena voluptas 1 . (1125) 
 
 It is interesting to compare the panegyric written almost at 
 the same time by Claudian for Honorius' sixth consulship. There 
 we have a splendid procession with cataphracts (armoured cavalry) 
 and dragon-standards and all that is gorgeous. But for hue Christo 
 comitante veni we read of " winged Victory, guardian of the Roman 
 toga, coming herself to her shrines " a tacit defiance to those who 
 had driven the goddess from the Senate. We find a grand eques- 
 trian display in the Circus, but no such plea for mercy for the 
 wretched as that with which the Christian poet crowns his poem. 
 
 This rapid sketch must suffice for the works of Prudentius, but 
 a few points of style remain to be considered. He has been harshly 
 criticized for the characteristic faults of his training, and of his 
 age. He has confessed that he received a training in rhetoric 
 and that he had been an advocate. He had the resultant weak- 
 nesses. In his polemics against heathenism, the poet is sometimes 
 subordinated to the advocate, who has taken his brief from Ter- 
 tullian and drives home his points with the same keen, but hardly 
 poetic, energy. He urges as it were the conviction of the gods 
 on charges which involve heavy penalties under Roman law. The 
 immorality and sensuality attributed by legend to the gods rather 
 than the fundamental weaknesses of the Pantheon are attacked. 
 Again, he still suffers, like Claudian and others of his contempo- 
 raries, from rhetoric. All the rhetoric-bred poets declaim from 
 Lucan onward. They cannot break loose from the school. They 
 lack imagination and balance, and are carried away by language. 
 Prudentius does not always know when to leave off. One, or two 
 examples will serve. A common taunt against the heathen gods 
 is that they betrayed their own lands to Rome. This is how 
 Prudentius sets it. 
 
 Jappiter ut Cretae domineris, Pallas ut Argis, 
 Cynthius ut Delphis, tribuerunt omine dextro. 
 his JVilicolas, Rhodios Cytherea reliquit, 
 venatrix Ephesum virgo. Mars dedidit Hebrum ; 
 destitute Thebas Bromius, concessit et ipsa 
 Juno suos Phrygiis servire nepotibus Afros. 
 
 Adv. Symm. ii. 489. 
 1 Compare Wordsworth : 
 
 Never to blend our pleasure or our pride 
 With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels. 
 
 G. 18
 
 274 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 When speaking of the way which does not lead to the great 
 mystery and of its ramifications, he spends seventeen lines in 
 detailing some thirteen forms of heathenism the worship of 
 Bacchus, Cybele, etc. Again the Star in the East outshone the 
 Zodiac, and we have some twelve lines describing how each of 
 nine signs was affected, and the sun too. Contrast Horace's 
 moderation when Astrology tempted him to prolixity. The jewel 
 gates of the New Jerusalem at the end of the Holy War take 
 fifteen lines, as jewel after jewel is invoiced. He actually adds 
 the price of one of them, which had cost Faith a thousand talents. 
 
 But this is not all. For besides what may be called relevant 
 overloading, we have overloading which is irrelevant. Prudentius 
 could tell a story and could not refrain. So we have plentiful 
 digressions into stories, interesting and well told, but aside from 
 the main theme. They are generally Biblical. Brockhaus finds an 
 excuse for the Biblical digressions in the plea that Prudentius 
 wrote for the instruction of educated Christian people and under 
 the influence of Christian art, selecting for poetic treatment espe- 
 cially those stories which were painted in catacomb and church. 
 These were in his own mind and he knew they would be familiar 
 to his readers. " 'Tis the taught already that profits by teaching." 
 
 Though his sententiae are often crisp and clear, he has a 
 tendency at times to draggle whether from exuberance or from 
 impatience of correction. Claudian is superior to him in precision 
 and edge. 
 
 While in hexameters Prudentius seems fairly strong, in argu- 
 mentative passages, like Lucretius and Juvenal, he is almost 
 bound to drop into ending lines with quadrisyllables or pairs of 
 disyllables especially when he expounds the Trinity and the 
 effect is not happy. His quantities, though generally, are not 
 always classical Greek diphthongs and long vowels being often 
 shortened, e.g. rhompka,Qalis, k&eresis, Paraclitum ; and short vowels 
 lengthened, e.g. ch&risma, c&tholicus (too tempting a word metri- 
 cally), sophia. 
 
 His spondaic hexameters are fairly numerous and not very 
 impressive. They are more like Juvenal's than Virgil's. His pen- 
 tameters are weak. I do not find his alliterations very dignified 
 or always very musical. 
 
 On the other hand, he is a master of narrative clear-cut and 
 effective. His language is often graceful and pointed, and he brings 
 out his thoughts well. His prologues, for example, are excellent.
 
 Prudentius 275 
 
 Metrically he has some redeeming qualities, which it is well to 
 recognize. His hexameters are varied and easy, and his elisions 
 frequent enough to relieve monotony without producing roughness. 
 He is in this respect a wonderful contrast to Juvencus, whose lines 
 are all alike and all lacking in elision. In fine, if Prudentius' 
 hexameters lack the highest finish (as it must be confessed they 
 do), they are still telling and vigorous and hang well together. 
 He employs, besides, a considerable number of lyrical metres and 
 handles them like a master. Many of them are Horatian, and 
 the rest may be paralleled in contemporary poets. 
 
 I have already remarked that the critics are divided in their 
 preferences, some preferring his work in the style of Virgil and 
 Lucretius, others his lyrical poetry, and both parties can say a 
 good deal for their views. In other words, the poet has been 
 successful in both styles. The more one studies his contemporaries 
 the more one admires him. Spiritually and intellectually he far 
 outstrips the heathen poets, and in poetic insight, grace and 
 mastery of his material he is far above the Christians. 
 
 Of his indebtedness to previous poets, particularly to Virgil, 
 much might be written. I will content myself with remarking that 
 I have found a number of direct imitations, or perhaps echoes, 
 of Juvenal ; one or two cases of the influence of Propertius and 
 Lucan ; some of Lucretius ; and rather more of indebtedness to 
 Horace. To Virgil his debt is naturally very much greater. He 
 knew him well as scores of passages shew. Some are cases of 
 undisguised pilfering 1 : e.g. 
 
 Ckriste graves hominum semper miserate labores. Psych. 1. 
 
 Phoebe graves Trojae semper miserate labores. Aen. vi. 56. 
 
 Others are more honest reminiscences or echoes : 
 
 Martis congressibus impar. Psych. 549. 
 
 impar congressus Achilli. Aen. i. 475. 
 
 ad astra doloribus itur. Cath. x. 92. 
 
 sic itur ad astra. Aen. ix. 641. 
 
 Others again would be less marked if not so numerous, e.g. such 
 phrases as Psych. 40 gramineo in campo, 41 fidget in armis, 49 
 adacto transadigit gladio, which are Virgil's : others less con- 
 spicuous are metrical parallels if the phrase may be allowed : e.g. 
 
 funalis machina. Psych. 866. fatalis machina. Aen. ii. 237. 
 femina provocat arma virum. Steph. iii. 36. 
 
 1 Sixt however goes too far, I think, when he calls the Psychomachia " almost 
 a cento." Compare Aen. vi. 640 with Catullus Ixiv. 39, for a loan as patent. 
 
 182
 
 276 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Again there are instances of what I may call deliberate quotation : 
 e.g. when Theodosius comes to Rome as a Christian victor and 
 the Empire becomes Christian: 
 
 denique nee metas statuit, nee tempora ponit ; 
 
 imperium sine fine docet, etc. Adv. Symm. i. 542. 
 
 This same Virgilian influence is found in very many Latin poets, 
 and is not at all extraordinary when we remember that Virgil is 
 the one book which has never yet been out of the schools since 
 Tucca and Varius published the Aeneid. 
 
 One source of inspiration, from which we might have expected 
 him to draw, he ignores. The poetry of the Psalter was lost to 
 him. From the historical books of the Old and the New Testament, 
 from Paul and the Apocalypse he borrowed incidents, ideas and 
 pictures, but the Psalms and generally the Prophets he ignored. 
 The Prophets were unintelligible, the Psalms were uncouth, and 
 persons of education shrank from them. Even Ambrose's recom- 
 mendation of Isaiah failed to make Augustine read him through. 
 For the Psalms, Augustine tells us of his enjoyment of them as 
 a marked proof of his change of feeling. 
 
 "In what accents did I speak to Thee, my God, as I read 
 the psalms of David, those faithful songs and sounds of piety 
 that exclude the proud spirit... What accents did I utter to 
 Thee in those psalms, and how was I inflamed toward Thee by 
 them, and kindled to recite them, if possible, the world over, 
 against the pride of mankind" (Conf. ix. 4, 8). 
 
 Jerome says much the same (Ep. xxii. 30). " So with a mind 
 to read Tully, I used to fast. After a long night of watching, 
 after tears which the memory of my former sins brought from my 
 inmost being, I would take up Plautus. If ever I came to myself 
 and began to read the Prophets, the rough language grated on 
 me." It took an angel with a scourge, he says, to correct his too 
 classical taste. So that we need not be surprised if Prudentius 
 ignored the Psalms and studied Virgil, as even Jerome did after 
 his celestial flagellation. But surely it was a bad sign that the 
 education of the day should prevent men of culture from recognizing 
 the real worth through the rough translation. 
 
 We have seen something of the Spaniard with his national 
 love of and pride in the Spanish saints, his interest in martyrdoms 
 and his devotion ; of the Roman proud of his Roman citizenship, 
 jealous of his country's honour lest it be usurped by false gods,
 
 Prudentius 277 
 
 and above all bound up in a Christian Rome and its mission ; 
 of the man of letters, the poet, the artist ; one side of him remains 
 and that may best be set forth in his own words, in the poem which 
 may be taken as the epilogue to his whole collection. When we 
 have seen the whole man, and have studied him all round, and 
 in relation to his times, we cease to think of the points strange 
 and even grotesque to-day, but feel that here is a true man. 
 
 Gifts for God the Father wrought 
 To Him true, pure, and holy spirits offer ; 
 
 Gifts of honest mind and thought, 
 The riches of a heav'n-blest life they proffer. 
 
 Wealth another man may bring, 
 The needs and sorrows of the poor relieving ; 
 
 I, alack, can only sing, 
 Swift Trochee and Iambus interweaving. 
 
 Scanty holiness is mine, 
 Nor can I help the needy, rich alms flinging ; 
 
 Yet will deign my Lord Divine 
 To lend a Father's ear to my poor singing. 
 
 In the mansion of the great 
 Stand needful furnishments in rack and trestle ; 
 
 Gleams the gold and silver plate, 
 The bowl of polished brass and earthen vessel. 
 
 Wrought of precious ivory 
 Or carved of oak or simple elmwood platters 
 
 What their nature, so each be 
 Meet for the Master's use, it nothing matters. 
 
 There are uses for them all, 
 Great cost or small is not of use the token. 
 
 Me within my father's hall 
 Christ found : He came and found me old and broken. 
 
 Yet has Christ a need of me, 
 Though but a moment's space I have my station ; 
 
 Earthen vessel though I be, 
 I pass into the Palace of Salvation. 
 
 Be the service ne'er so slight 
 God owns it. Then whatever Time is bringing, 
 
 This shall still be my delight 
 That Christ has had the tribute of my singing.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 SULPICIUS SEVERUS 
 
 Caelestem quodammodo laetitiam vultu praeferens. 
 
 Vita Martini 27 
 
 When the priest sees himself vanquished by the prophet, he suddenly 
 changes his method. He takes him under his protection, he introduces 
 his harangues into the sacred canon, he throws over his shoulders the 
 priestly chasuble. The days pass on, the years roll by, and the moment 
 comes when the heedless crowd no longer distinguishes between them, and 
 it ends by believing the prophet to be an emanation of the clergy. 
 
 This is one of the bitterest ironies of history. 
 
 PAUL SABATIER, St Francis of Assisi, p. xv 1 
 
 IN the Christian movement as in most other movements of 
 mankind two tendencies display themselves in constant reaction 
 and interaction, the tendencies to make the group and the individual 
 the unit of life. Great conceptions underlie them both. The one 
 is that of a society ordered and organized, part answering to part, 
 and all parts of one majestic whole, a great imperial system 
 embracing mankind, every man in his proper sphere, star differing 
 from star in glory but all moving harmoniously on their several 
 orbits. The other is that of a life resting on communion with God, 
 a life each man must live for himself (for in this relation no inter- 
 mediary is tolerable or possible), a life dependent on no system or 
 organization but above and beyond the reach and scope of systems 
 and their makers, for the wind bloweth where it listeth and so is 
 every one that is born of the spirit. Both conceptions, it may be 
 said, can be held by the same mind at once, and perhaps under 
 ideal circumstances they are not incompatible, but where the 
 
 1 [References are made to the translation by Louise Seymour Houghton.
 
 Sulpicius Severus 279 
 
 circumstances are not ideal there is apt to be a preference given 
 to one as against the other, and the result is often extravagance 
 and reaction. 
 
 The story of the Church is full of these alternate reactions. 
 St Paul, if any man, stood for the freedom of the individual to 
 live his own spiritual life, and St Paul wrote the Epistles to the 
 Corinthians, for he could not approve an individualism run mad 
 and unshackled. Ignatius to correct the disorders of Docetism 
 laid stress on episcopal order, and thence came the Catholic Church, 
 and within a century reaction came under Montanus who pled for 
 the emancipation of the Holy Spirit from the yoke of the bishop. 
 Half a century later, when the Roman bishops had denounced 
 Montanism and the Church system was crystallizing, the persecution 
 of Decius started the same conflict over again between the order of 
 the Church and the purity of Christian life, and Novatianus made a 
 stand for holiness, though here the Catholic principle asserted itself 
 and he organized the great Puritan Church of the Novatians. With 
 the triumph of Constantine came the triumph of the Church, the 
 Nicene and the following Councils, and the age of Court bishops 
 and metropolitans, when the Church was deluged by a secular 
 society, when bishops fought for creeds and richer sees, when 
 spiritual arms were reinforced by material and the victories of faith 
 were changed for those of George and Damasus, whose followers 
 made him Pope at the cost of one hundred and thirty-seven lives. 
 Reaction might have been expected and it duly came. It was at 
 this time, we are told, that the monastic communities of the 
 Egyptian god Serapis were converted to Christianity, and simul- 
 taneously there appeared in the same regions and among men of 
 the same race, the Coptic race, the earliest Christian monachism. 
 Antony and Paul are nowadays dismissed very properly from 
 history to the realm of fiction. But at all events now was the day 
 when Christians began to take to the desert to seek there that 
 perfection and holy living they found impossible in the Church life 
 of the cities. If the movement began with the Copts, it did not 
 end with them. It spread the world over. And then reaction, 
 for the monks, the individualists of the Church of the day, and 
 wild and extreme ones too, began very soon to organize, and we 
 read that in the Egyptian deserts the first of virtues was obedience 
 to the Abbot under any and every circumstance a virtue, experi- 
 ence would shew, of somewhat doubtful worth. Later on St Benedict 
 organized the monks of the West. With each fresh outburst of
 
 280 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 spiritual life there followed a new order. Friars were the sign of a 
 revolt against the monasteries, as they had been and were against 
 the bishops, for the religious orders were subject to the Pope and 
 independent of the local episcopate '. The Reformation was a great 
 revolt of the individual against bishop and monk and friar, and 
 when it imposed English prelate and Scotch presbyter on the 
 Church, George Fox led a great revolt against both, as later on 
 John Wesley did likewise in spite of himself. Both organized fresh 
 societies, with very different degrees of individual freedom in thought 
 and worship. Here it would be well to halt, though it should be 
 remarked in the case of all these movements that, while they 
 represent the desire for higher life, there are rarely wanting men 
 whose character might give ground for believing that revolts and 
 secessions are unnecessary for the maintenance of Christian piety, 
 or, at all events, that nowhere is there a monopoly in holy living. 
 
 The fourth century witnessed a great change, startling and 
 almost dramatic, but yet neither so astonishing nor so great as 
 might seem at first sight. It was, at least to those who can look 
 back upon it and what preceded it, inevitable. Persecution is a 
 clumsy method, and it had failed to crush Christianity, which, it 
 was also clear, was proof against all the social, moral and intel- 
 lectual attacks the old world could bring against it, and possessed 
 too of an assimilative force which drew to it steadily, if slowly, 
 the best minds and hearts. The change was inevitable, and yet 
 it was by no means so great or complete as it looked. A great 
 many among the millions of the Empire were not keenly interested 
 in the question of cult, where conduct was free from interference, 
 and a conventional and occasional settlement of accounts might 
 be made as conveniently with the God of the Christians as with 
 any other, provided He, like the other gods, would leave his 
 worshipper free in the intervals. When all is said, the religions 
 of the ancient world were largely, were chiefly, external sacrifices, 
 lustrations, purifications and other magical rites, and to change 
 from them to a magical Christianity meant not very much after 
 all. The change to spiritual Christianity was a very different 
 matter, but that was not always consequent upon the other. 
 Beside these nominal Christians, there were many more honest 
 
 1 Cf. A. V. G. Allen, Christian Institutions, "Monasticism never lost its 
 inner mood of antagonism to the episcopate; its history is a record of conflicts 
 with bishops, of rivalries and jealousies, of defeats and victories, till the Refor- 
 mation."
 
 Sulpicius Severus 281 
 
 heathen who went their quiet way, bowing to the storm and content 
 if allowed to walk in the old paths without let or hindrance. 
 
 If the world was more Christian, the Church was certainly more 
 heathen. It had lost many of its best spirits in the persecution 
 of Diocletian, and the new recruits by no means made good the loss. 
 The laity were more pagan, and the clergy and bishops were pagan 
 too in heart, more worldly and less spiritual. While the Church, 
 particularly in the East, was busying itself about the definition of 
 its fundamental truth, less attention was paid to the common 
 virtues, and the bishops rivalled the eunuchs and the freedmen of 
 the palace in love of power and wealth and in the questionable 
 means they took to secure them. The episcopal office suffered for 
 not being the post of peril. The protest of the laity was monach- 
 ism. While their guides in things spiritual fought for pomp and 
 place, they looked after their own spiritual interests, and found, 
 as we read in Sulpicius Severus, that in general they had most to 
 fear (after the Devil and his more invisible legions) from the 
 bishops. Ammianus, the fairest of historians, had hard things to 
 say of the great bishops, yet his charges are more than confirmed 
 by the devout Churchman. One Athanasius, one Ambrose, and 
 one Augustine mark the century, while there were many of the type 
 of Damasus, Ursacius and George 1 . 
 
 Beside the desire to satisfy spiritual cravings, there was perhaps 
 another inducement to embrace the monastic life in that praesentium 
 fastidium we find in Sulpicius. The Roman power in the West 
 was nearing its end. Taxation, war, rebellion, extravagance and 
 slavery had exhausted the Empire, and men turned from the City 
 of Destruction to realize the City of God in the desert and the cell. 
 In such times of stress the common expressions of the religious 
 instinct are felt to fail and men crave for closer access to the 
 divine. 
 
 St Martin (c. 336 c. 400) was a Pannonian who entered the 
 army at the early age of fifteen, was baptized at eighteen, and 
 at twenty got his discharge from Julian, then Caesar, and betook 
 himself to the monastic life. He was not an educated man, and, 
 as we may see, he was terribly credulous and superstitious, but 
 he was a great force in Gaul, his adopted country. His kindness, 
 his dignity, enhanced rather than lessened by his mean garb and 
 
 1 Even these men had their excellences. George was a scholar, or at least 
 had amassed a library which Julian coveted, and Damasus was the antiquarian 
 who opened the Catacombs to the pilgrims.
 
 282 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 humble ways, his shrewdness, his language, his seriousness, and 
 the awful gravity and the quiet joy 1 he drew from communion 
 with Christ in a life of prayer and imitation, gave him an influence 
 and a charm which drew to him the suffering and the sinful, and 
 a power that on more than one occasion proved more imperial 
 than an Emperor's. He became bishop of Tours, though against 
 his will, for it had not been his purpose to be ordained 2 . But 
 Hilary of Poictiers, to whom he at first attached himself, failing 
 to make him a deacon, made him an exorcist, and later on he was 
 captured by a stratagem and consecrated whether he would or no. 
 The bishops were unwilling to do it, but the laity would not be 
 denied and an accidental sors Biblica clinched the matter. The 
 most strenuous of the bishops was one Defensor, and a mistake was 
 made in the lesson whereby the words were read, "Out of the 
 mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise, because of 
 thine enemies, that thou mayest destroy the enemy et defensorem" 
 Martin was "un saint un peu ddmocratique " as M. Boissier says, 
 and he ended, as he began, the poor man's bishop, just as St Francis 
 long afterwards led a spiritual movement rising from the common 
 people and recognized by them as their own 3 . And Francis also 
 refused to become a priest. 
 
 Such a man was magnetic, and amongst others he drew to him 
 Sulpicius Severus, the subject of this essay. We do not know 
 much of Sulpicius' life, probably because there is little to know. 
 Gennadius, who includes him in his list of ninety-nine famous men 
 which he made to supplement St Jerome's, only gives us one fact 
 which we could not gather from his own writings and the thirteen 
 letters addressed to him by Paulinus of Nola, and to that fact 
 I shall have to return. 
 
 Sulpicius was born in Aquitaine about the year 363 (according 
 to Reinkens), probably of good family, for he had at Bordeaux the 
 best education his times could give, he became a pleader and he 
 made a great marriage 4 . His wife was of a wealthy family which 
 
 1 Nemo unquam ilium ridit...mae.rentem, nemo ridentem; unus idemque fuit 
 semper caelestem quodammodo laetitiam vultu praeferem (Vita Mart. 27). We 
 read a somewhat similar account of Marcus Aurelius: Erat enim ipse tantae 
 tranquillitatis lit rultum nunquam mutai'erit maerore vel yaudio, philosophiae 
 deditus Stoicae (Hist. August. M. Antonin. 16) the difference will be noted 
 however. 
 
 2 For an interesting account of this reluctance to be ordained, still a for- 
 mality in the Coptic Church, see Stanley, Eastern Church, Lect. vn. 
 
 3 Sabatier, St Francis, p. xvi. 
 
 4 See Paulinus, Ep. \. 5 (to Severus) in ipso adhuc niundi theatro, id est, fori 
 celebritate diversans, et facundi nominis palmam tenens . . .divitiae de matrimonio
 
 Sulpicius Severus 283 
 
 could boast a consul. Of her we know nothing, unless from his 
 grief at her early death and his lifelong affection for her mother 
 Bassula, evidently a woman of fine character and kindly nature, 
 we may conjecture, "like mother, like daughter." His wife's death, 
 while he was still a young man with a father living, altered the 
 current of his life '. He had given signs of rising in his profession, 
 but "from his Tullian letters," to borrow the phrase of Paulinus 2 , 
 he turned to "the preachings of the fishermen," and "the silence of 
 piety." In less extraordinary language, he turned to St Martin for 
 advice, and the Saint advised him to quit the world 3 . This he did, 
 as Paulinus also had done, cheerfully, gladly, and without regret, 
 though it would seem his father resented his action. He settled down 
 (about 393) to the life of a monk on some land of his at Toulouse, 
 selling all else 3 . We need not expect much incident in such a life, 
 but one or two little details appear. As M. Boissier remarks, ' ' dans 
 le d^vot et le moine le lettr^ survivait." The man of letters had 
 necessities the illiterate among the monks knew not, and we read 
 of amanuenses, whom he owed to the kindness of his mother-in- 
 law 4 , and who, he playfully insinuates, as if in private duty bound, 
 supplied her with advance copies of whatever he wrote. His phrase 
 implies that these men were slaves, and, in the Dialogue 5 , Gallus who 
 has been "teased" (fatigare) by him on "Gallic edacity" retorts 
 with some good-humoured banter about "somebody" whose un- 
 grateful freedman ran off without however making his master very 
 angry, and Sulpicius replies that but for so and so "I should be 
 very angry." It is an interesting sidelight on monastic life, but no 
 
 familiae consularis aggestae...post conjugium peccandi libertas et caelebs juventas. 
 So ib. 6, 7, references to eloquence. All of which may illuminate his comparison 
 of his friend to the Queen of Sheba ( 2). 
 
 ' * Paulinus, Ep. v. 6 respuens patrimoniorum onera ceu stercorum, merito 
 socrum sanctam omni liberaliorem parent e in matrem sortitus aeternam, quia 
 caelestem patrem anteverteras terreno parenti, exemplo apostolorum relicto patre 
 in navicula fluctuante, scilicet in hujus vitae incerto cum retibus rerum suarunt et 
 implicatione patrimonii derelicto Christum secutus . . .Piscatorum praedicationes 
 Tullianis omnibus [e~\ tuis litteris praetulisti. Confugisti ad pietatis silentium, 
 ut evader es iniquitatis tumultum. (7) O vere Israelita! 
 
 2 Was it a case of sudden conversion? Paulinus, Ep. v. 5, says repentino 
 irnpetu discussisti servile peccati jugum, and if this is what he means, it fits in 
 with much else we know of Severus, but Paulinus loves to shroud his meaning 
 (when he has a meaning) in words; -juvat indulgere sermoni, he says. He was 
 Ausonius' pupil. 
 
 3 Paulinus, Ep. xxiv. 3 nee in reservatis praediis possessor et perfectus in 
 venditis. 
 
 4 Ep. iii. 2 notaries meos...qui in jus nostrum ex tua potissimum liberalitate 
 venerunt. Cf. Paulinus, Ep. v. 6, for Bassula's generosity socrum sanctam omni 
 liberaliorem parente. 
 
 8 Dial. i. 12.
 
 284 Life and Letters in tJie Fourth Century 
 
 one who has read his delightful works will grudge Sulpicius his 
 amanuenses'. 
 
 He was the literary exponent of the movement of which 
 St Martin was the prophet, and he shared in the ill-will that 
 attended his master. More than once we hear of episcopal dislike 
 and perhaps a little mild persecution. At the beginning of the 
 Dialogue, Postumian asks after some years of absence whether the 
 bishops are still the men they were when he went away 2 . Sulpicius 
 bids him not ask, for they are no better, and his one friend among 
 them, who was his one relief from their vexatiousness, is rougher 
 than he should be. We get another glimpse at this unpopularity 
 of Sulpicius in one of Paulinus' letters, where the writer presses 
 Sulpicius to come and visit him, for one reason urging that by 
 being absent for a while he will still the voice of jealousy 3 . 
 
 The same letters cast some little light on Sulpicius' life. The 
 earlier ones repeatedly invite him to Nola, but he never went. 
 Twice, he writes to Paulinus, he meant to come but was stopped 
 by illness 4 . By and by it is pretty clear he does not intend to visit 
 his friend at all. He jokingly wrote that he was afraid Paulinus' 
 generosity would soon leave him too poor to repeat the invitation 5 
 a jest which plunged Paulinus into a flood of declamation about 
 faith, ending in the happy thought that perhaps after all Sulpicius 
 had been playful rather than faithless. Sulpicius did a good deal 
 of travelling, it would appear, in Gaul 6 , but he was content to be 
 represented in Italy by his servants and his annual letters 7 . 
 
 When engaged on his Chronicle, Sulpicius wrote in 403 to 
 Paulinus for aid, particularly on some points of doubtful chrono- 
 logy 8 , but Paulinus had to confess he was unable to help him. 
 History was seemingly too solid a study for the pupil of Ausonius, 
 but he did the best he could and passed on his friend's letter to 
 Rutinus. In place of information he sends a declamation on the 
 Emperor Theodosius and some hymns he had written to St Felix. 
 
 1 From the letters of Pauliuus, it is clear Sulpicius had still pueri to carry 
 letters, etc., e.g. Ep. v. 1 pueris tuis sancta in Domino tibi servitute conexis; 
 xxvii. 3 famulis conservus. Paulinus was rapturous about the loan of a cook, 
 an expert in vegetarian cuisine and an adept at the razor (Ep. xxiii.), a lad 
 therefore very like Samson. 
 
 2 Dial. i. 2, 3 an isti omnes quos hie reliqueram sacerdotes tales sint quales 
 eos antequam proficiscerer noveramus? 
 
 3 Paulinus, Ep. v. 13 zeli fuga qui maxime conspectu aut vicinia aemulae 
 conversations accenditur. 
 
 4 Paulinus, Ep. v. 8. 6 Paulinus, Ep. xi. 12. 
 
 8 Paulinus, Ep. xvii. 4. 7 Paulinus, Ep. xxiii. 2, xxviii. 1. 
 
 8 Paulinus, Ep. xxviii.
 
 Sulpicius Severus 285 
 
 Over and above the letters, other courtesies passed between 
 them. Sulpicius sends a camel's hair cloth to Paulinus, who 
 acknowledges it in a rambling letter 1 about camels and the analogy 
 of the camel and the needle's eye to salvation by the cross of Christ, 
 and returns a tunic of lamb's wool made by a saintly lady, Melania, 
 and presented to Paulinus by her on her return from a twenty-five 
 years' residence at Jerusalem. He hoped Sulpicius would value it 
 the more for his having worn it a little first. By and by 2 Sulpicius 
 asks for a portrait of Paulinus, who is very reluctant (or would have 
 it seem so) to send it, but we may surmise it was sent, for a little 
 later we read that in a baptistery Sulpicius has been building he has 
 painted on the walls St Martin and Paulinus 3 . His correspondent 
 is obviously highly pleased, but feels it his duty to make a long and 
 rhetorical protest. At Sulpicius' request he sends him a series of 
 verses to inscribe on the walls and something far more precious 
 part of a fragment of the True Cross brought home by St Silvia 
 of Aquitaine 4 . The Cross, he explains, permitted these souvenirs 
 to be taken from it without suffering a loss of bulk. Melania ap- 
 pears again as sending a choice selection of ashes and other relics. 
 
 Paulinus' letters are insufferably long and trivial, with one or 
 two exceptions. While here and there amid his endless moralizings 
 we find a stray fact of interest, the correspondence has this value 
 that, beside showing the respect men had for Sulpicius' character, 
 it brings out by contrast his brilliance and worth as a man of 
 letters. The two men had had much the same training, had made 
 the same surrender and lived the same life ; but there the likeness 
 ends. 
 
 Now and then Sulpicius speaks of himself. Writing to one 
 Aurelius, a deacon 5 , he speaks of himself sitting alone in his little 
 cell, "and the line of thought came to me which so often occupies 
 me, the hope of things to come and disgust for the present, the fear 
 of judgment and the terror of punishment ; and what follows these 
 thoughts and is their cause, the recollection of my sins, made me 
 sad and weary." His story of Martin's discourse and his obvious 
 approval of it shew his own temper. "His talk was ever, how 
 we should leave the seductions of the world and the burdens of the 
 age to follow the Lord Jesus free and unhampered : he would 
 
 1 Ep. xxix. 2 Paulinus, Ep. xxx. 
 
 3 Paulinus, Ep. xxxii. 4 Paulinus, Ep. xxxi. 1. 
 
 5 Sulp. Sev. Ep. ii. 1. For the thought cf. Paulinus, cited on p. 124; and 
 Prudentius, p. 267.
 
 286 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 instance the most splendid example of the present day set by the 
 famous Paulinus, who by abandoning great wealth and following 
 Christ had been almost unique in these times in fulfilling the gospel 
 precepts. He was the man we should follow! he was the man to 
 imitate ! he would exclaim ; and the present age was happy in 
 possessing such a pattern of faith and virtue, since, as the Lord 
 advised, he, though rich and possessing much, had by selling all 
 and giving to the poor, made possible by his example what was 
 impossible 1 ." We have seen Sulpicius did as much, and most 
 people will prefer him at once as a robust character and a pleasant 
 writer. 
 
 For this brings us to his literary work, and throughout it runs 
 the glad note. Sin might sadden him, and bishops worry him, but 
 the dominant character of his work is its joyousness and brightness. 
 A gentle humour plays about it ever and again, and grace and 
 delicacy are its constant marks. For it seems established that the 
 cheerfullest and sunniest of men are those who for a great cause 
 make a great renunciation. So through Sulpicius, as through 
 Prudentius, we find a vein of quiet happiness, whatever their subject, 
 in striking contrast with the unhappiuess and violence of so much 
 of the heathen literature of the Empire. In the pages of Montalem- 
 bert's Monks of the West we find very much the same glowing 
 joyousness, for the author, if he had not the critical qualities that 
 make a historian, was in love with his subject and caught the 
 spirit of the early Gallic monasticism. The same note, but with the 
 historical gift, marks Sabatier's Francis of Assisi. 
 
 Sulpicius' prose style is admirable for its ease and fibre 2 . The 
 schools had taught him Cicero and Virgil, and he had assimilated 
 more than their roll and cadence. Ausonius, Paulinus and 
 Symmachus had had the same training, had learnt and loved the 
 same authors, and they wrote smoothly and fluently enough, but 
 their work is very bloodless they say nothing, and they say it 
 with infinite meandering. Sulpicius is the well-girt writer ; his 
 style follows his theme, is earnest, playful or impassioned with his 
 
 1 V. Mart. 25. It was polite of Sulpicius to write this of his friend, who 
 returns the compliment by perpetually professing to be a very poor creature by 
 comparison. E.g. Ep. v. 7 : Sulpicius blazes septena Domini candelabra, while 
 Paulinus is sub modio peccatorum. The jumble of scripture is characteristic of 
 Paulinus. 
 
 2 Jerome (Ep. 125, 6) speaks of the high state of education in Gaul. His 
 correspondent, Busticus, was, however, sent on to Rome ut ubertatem Gallici 
 nitoremque sermonis gravitas Romana condiret. Cf. Claudian, iv. Cons. Hon. 
 582 Gallia doctis civibus.
 
 Sulpicius Severus 287 
 
 thought, never draggles, never wearies. Here and there slips in a 
 happy phrase from Virgil, with the utmost aptness and naturalness 
 the snake charmed by the lads of an Egyptian monastery quasi 
 incantata carminibus caerula colla deposuit (Dial. i. 10, cf. Aeneid 
 ii. 381). Of Martin's preaching we read that he groaned in spirit, 
 infremuit nee mortale sonans praedicabat (Dial. ii. 4, cf. Aeneid vi. 
 50). Once more, he bids Postumian on his return to Egypt to find 
 somewhere on the shore the grave of Pomponius, ac licet inani 
 munere solum ipsum flore purpureo et suave redolentibus sparge 
 graminibus (Dial. iii. 18, cf. Aeneid vi. 885) '. Once he quotes a 
 line of Statius without precisely naming him utimur enim versu 
 scholastico, quia inter scholasticos fabulamur^ much as a modern 
 might in conversation quote a line of Shakespeare more for play- 
 fulness than because of a rigid relevance. Remarkable too, as 
 instancing his care for the purity of his vocabulary, is his apology 
 for the verb exsufflare, which he must use though parum Latinum 
 to express his thought 3 . 
 
 The excellence of his style is remarked by most of his critics, 
 M. Boissier finding in him the typical charm of French literature, 
 but the criticism of Gibbon will help us best to the next point for 
 consideration. He alludes to the narration of "facts adapted to 
 the grossest barbarism in a style not unworthy of the Augustan 
 age. So natural," he continues, "is the alliance between good 
 taste and good sense that I am always astonished by the contrast 4 ." 
 Sulpicius has indeed an almost unbounded credulity. It must be 
 recognized, before we judge him, that modern science is, after all, 
 very modern, and that while we are emancipated from much crude 
 superstition to-day, much still remains in odd corners of minds by 
 no means uncultured, and that after all it is possible to pay too 
 high a price for the extinction of superstition. At all events we 
 must judge Sulpicius by the standard of his time, and, not to go 
 back to Tacitus and his phoenix and Vespasian's miracle, so sane a 
 man as Ammianus has a wistful regret for portents "which occur 
 still but are not noted," while a century or so later Zosimus, the 
 bitter critic of Christianity, can seriously attribute the decay and 
 
 1 Cf. also V. Mart. 22 and Aeneid vii. 338. 
 
 2 Dial. ii. 10. Does he mean an "example" from a grammar? 
 
 In one of his letters (xxii.) Paulinus rallies him about Virgil, citing a letter 
 of his ending with a Virgilian quotation (Aen. iii.) and giving at length another, 
 a very racy one about a cook for the monastery, where he uses the Plautine lar 
 for "home." 
 
 3 Dial. iii. 8. 
 
 4 Decline and Fall, iii. p. 376 n.
 
 288 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 decrepitude of the Empire to the neglect of Constantino to hold the 
 secular games. These men were heathens. 
 
 There are not wanting signs that men of his day found some 
 of Sulpicius' stories hard to believe. We have one notice of a 
 man who told St Martin himself that "what with empty super- 
 stitions and ridiculous delusions he had come to dotage and 
 madness," but as a brace of devils were seen chuckling and ejacu- 
 lating "Go it! Brictio!" to encourage him, we may discount this 
 critic's views 1 . More important is another passage in the third 
 book of the Dialogue" 1 ', where Sulpicius interrupts his narrative with 
 a little piece of apologia, which, if it somewhat mars the art and 
 verisimilitude of the piece, illuminates the character of the author. 
 A good many (plurimi) are said to shake their heads (nutare) about 
 what has been said in the second book. "Let them accept the 
 evidence of men still living and believe them, seeing they doubt my 
 good faith. But if they are so very sceptical, I protest they will 
 not even believe them. Yet I am astonished that any one who has 
 even a faint idea of religion would be willing to commit such a sin 
 as to think any one could lie about Martin. Far be such a suspicion 
 from any who lives under God ; for Martin does not need the support 
 of falsehood. But the truth of the whole story, Christ ! 
 I pledge with thee, that I have not said nor will say anything but 
 what I have either seen myself or learnt on good authority, 
 generally from Martin himself. But even if I have adopted the 
 form of a dialogue, that variety in my story may prevent monotony, 
 I profess I am religiously making truth the foundation of my 
 history. I have been obliged at the cost of some pain to make this 
 
 insertion on account of the incredulity of some people Believe 
 
 me, I am quite unstrung and beside myself for pain will not 
 Christians believe in those powers of Martin which devils acknow- 
 ledged?" This inset makes the conclusion of the piece remind us a 
 little of Virgil's wounded snake in its rather unsuccessful attempt to 
 proceed as if nothing had happened, but it has its value. With 
 other passages it establishes Sulpicius' honesty. It is therefore 
 worth while to consider how it is he can believe so much that is 
 incredible to us. 
 
 I have said, we must allow for his living in a very unscientific 
 age, an age, too, when the refined scepticism of Roman society 
 in Cicero's day and the blatant atheism of Lucian and his kind 
 
 1 Dial. iii. 15. 2 Dial. iii. 5.
 
 Sulpicius Severus 289 
 
 had been made well-nigh impossible by that reaction toward faith, 
 which is seen in Neo-Platonism, in the rapid spread of Christianity 
 and in the general revival of religion which began in the second 
 century and was so pronounced in the third. Men were ready to 
 believe much, and where this is the case, there is actually less tax 
 upon credulity. For there is a certain amount of evidence that some 
 diseases, mainly of the mental or hysterical order, may be cured by 
 the exercise of faith in the sufferer. Nothing helps a patient very 
 much who firmly believes he is going to die, whose mind is made up 
 to it, and the converse is true too. Let the sick man conceive the 
 belief that the practitioner or the saint can cure him and is doing 
 it, and in some cases this belief will cure him. But for this Notre 
 Dame de Lourdes and Ste Anne de Beauprd in Quebec might earn 
 less gratitude. Now Martin was an ignorant man, though a man who 
 had great power with men in virtue of his character and personality, 
 and he believed he could heal disease by prayer and faith, and that 
 this faculty was but the fulfilment of Christ's promises. Sulpicius 
 says, and it is not improbable he is presenting Martin's view, as well 
 as his own, that to doubt these miracles of healing, etc., is to 
 diminish the credibility of the gospel, "for when the Lord himself 
 testified that such works as Martin did were to be done by all the 
 faithful, he who does not believe Martin did them, does not believe 
 Christ said so 1 ." Perhaps the logic is not above suspicion, but it is 
 clear that it was held Martin's miracles were proven no less by the 
 words of the gospel than by ocular evidence. Thus Martin believed 
 he could work miracles, and no doubt he did effect cures, and he 
 had a strange influence over men and animals, which to-day might 
 be called hypnotism, or some such fine name, and was then called 
 miracle. If Martin's evidence was not enough, there was the witness 
 of the people healed. While we may admit they were the better 
 for his treatment, we have no kind of guarantee that their diagnosis 
 of their own maladies was at all more likely to be sound than the 
 pronouncements of ignorant people on their complaints to-day. To 
 an untrained observer, however, the evidence of the worker of the 
 miracle and the subject of it, supported by the inherent probability 
 of its happening in view of what the gospel said and the reflexion 
 that it might very well happen in any case, would be overwhelming. 
 We may then pronounce some of the miracles to be actual instances 
 of cures effected, and some to be cures of imaginary diseases, 
 
 1 Dial. i. 26. 
 G. 19
 
 290 Life and Letters in tJie Fourth Century 
 
 some the results of mere coincidence, some the ordinary everyday 
 order of events, and all greatly coloured by ignorance and childlike 
 faith 1 . 
 
 Visions 2 are more easily explained as they depend on the 
 evidence of an individual and neither require nor obtain corrobora- 
 tion. Ignorance again will explain some, and overstrung nerves 
 others, while emotion and a touch of poetry or a tendency to 
 imagery will help in nearly every case. In many of Martin's 
 visions a certain spiritual insight is implied. For example, on one 
 occasion the devil appeared to Martin at prayer, attired in purple 
 with diadem of gold and gems, and boots wrought with gold, with 
 serene countenance and glad mien, and proclaimed himself to be 
 Christ descended from heaven and rewarding Martin with the first 
 sight of himself. The Saint was silent. "Martin, why hesitate to 
 believe when you see? I am Christ." "No," said Martin, "the 
 Lord Jesus did not say he would come with purple or diadem. 
 I will not believe Christ has come, unless it be in the garb and 
 form under which he suffered, unless he bear upon him the marks 
 of the cross (stigmata crucis}" Thereupon the devil vanished. 
 Here his asceticism helped him ; but at the same time it should be 
 remembered that the millennium and the second advent were much 
 in the thoughts of Martin and his school To this, however, we 
 must recur. 
 
 It may be regretted that Sulpicius on turning to the religious 
 life should have taken as his guide so rude and untrained a thinker 
 as Martin, rather than some more cultured man like Augustine. 
 But we must realize that it is by no means unusual for men of 
 refinement and education to be fascinated by the unpolished 
 directness and rough vigour of a leader, a prophet, from among 
 the people. Apart from this however, there is little doubt that 
 Martin with all his limitations was the best and most spiritual, 
 
 1 George Fox (1649) at Mansfield-Woodhouse quieted an insane woman by 
 speaking to her. "The Lord's power settled her mind and she mended," when 
 a doctor and many people about her, "holding her by violence," had failed. 
 "Many great and wonderful things were wrought by the heavenly power in 
 those days; for the Lord made bare his omnipotent arm, and manifested his 
 power to the astonishment of many, by the healing virtue whereof many have 
 been delivered from great infirmities, and the devils Were made subject through 
 his name; of which particular instances might be given, beyond what this 
 unbelieving age is able to receive or hear." It may be added that America 
 swarms with groups of "Christian Scientists," "mind-healers," "faith-healers," 
 and the like, who achieve cures of disease now and then by means they only 
 partly understand, and then generalize with an extraordinary and pathetic 
 courage. 
 
 2 Vita Martini, 24.
 
 Sulpicius Severus 291 
 
 the most practically and consistently holy, of the Christian leaders 
 of Gaul; and manliness and godliness are perhaps after all not 
 outweighed by ignorance of physical science 1 . 
 
 If Sulpicius is not to be followed in his opinions on medicine 
 and nature, in his judgments of men he is sterling and sound. 
 He saw the great man under the uncouthness of Martin, and he 
 realized how terribly lacking were others among the bishops of 
 Gaul. Like his master, he is fair-minded and fearless. Let us 
 take three examples. Into the great controversy about Origen 
 and his orthodoxy, we need not go. It was in the East one of 
 the burning questions of the day, utilized for political ends by 
 the unscrupulous Theophilus, a successor to Athanasius in the 
 see of Alexandria. It crops up in Postumian's account of his 
 Eastern travels in the Dialogue, and whether we say Sulpicius is 
 putting his own views into Postumian's mouth or publishing 
 Postumian's idea in his own work, the conclusion, which is reached 
 after independent study of the books in question, is that, whatever 
 the authorities may say, while there is some doubtful teaching in 
 them, there is undoubtedly much that is good and useful. 
 
 Again, when he reviews the life and character of Maximus the 
 British usurper who slew Gratian, and after some five years of 
 Empire (383-388) was overthrown by Theodosius, Sulpicius is 
 remarkably careful to give him credit for good qualities which 
 men were not concerned to discover in a fallen rebel. He was "a 
 man whose whole life deserved honour, had it been possible for him 
 to refuse the diadem set upon his head by the soldiers in mutiny, 
 or to abstain from civil war; but Imperial power (magnum imperium) 
 cannot be refused without danger nor upheld without arms 2 ." This 
 is a most just criticism, and in it is the explanation of much of the 
 history of the third and fourth centuries. Many a man had in self- 
 defence to embark on civil war. It was a necessity of military 
 despotism. 
 
 Elsewhere 3 he says, that while Maximus "had done many fine 
 acts he was not enough on his guard against avarice, except that 
 
 1 Philostratus' Life of Apollonius of Tyana has marvels and miracles far 
 beyond Martin's, and Macrobius' wonders of science (Sat. vii.) reveal what men 
 educated in the physics of the day could and did believe. I do not know that 
 either falls much short of St Alphonso Liguori's Glories of Mary, published in 
 English not so long ago with the commendation of Cardinal Manning. 
 
 2 Dial. ii. 6. This judgment curiously coincides with that of Orosius vii. 
 34, 9 Maximus vir quidem strenuus et probus et Augusta dignus nisi contra sacra- 
 mentum per tyrannidem emersisset. Contrast Ausonius, p. 121, n. 3. 
 
 3 Dial. iii. 11. 
 
 192
 
 292 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 the necessities of monarchy, in the exhaustion of the treasury by 
 former rulers and his own immediate expectation of civil war ever 
 impending, afford an easy excuse for his providing support for his 
 power in any and every way." 
 
 Maximus had a great regard for Martin, and his queen was 
 really extravagant in her admiration of him This was seen in 
 the strange affair of Priscillian, where once more the fairness and 
 reasonableness of Sulpicius appear. Priscillian was the founder 
 of a small sect, of a Gnostic type, Sulpicius says. In 1885 the 
 German scholar Schepss discovered a manuscript of the fifth or 
 sixth century, containing some treatises and other matter, which, 
 though anonymous, he and other scholars attribute to Priscillian 
 himself. For the first time the heretic has been heard on his own 
 account, and the reader may be referred to his works in the Vienna 
 Corpus, vol xviii., and to the monograph of Friedrich Paret. Our 
 present concern is rather with the civil than the theological signifi- 
 cance of the story, and with the attitude of Martin and Sulpicius 
 toward the heretics 1 . 
 
 Two bishops had joined Priscillian and had consecrated him. 
 But the bishops of Spain and Gaul set themselves to bring about 
 the extinction of the sect by persecution and the sword. The 
 matter was brought to the Emperor Gratian who issued an edict 
 against the new sect. Priscillian made overtures for an interview 
 with Damasus and Ambrose, but when neither of them woiild see 
 him he got a court official, Macedonius, to use his influence and 
 have the edict withdrawn. The death of Gratian followed in 383, 
 and in 384 a synod of Burdigala (Bordeaux) condemned Priscillian, 
 who took the unusual step of appealing to the new Emperor. The 
 case came to Maximus and the bishops cried for the surety of blood. 
 Here Martin intervened it was enough, he said, and more than 
 
 1 St Augustine, Ep. 237, deals with the sect's false scriptures, and especially 
 with a hymn supposed to have been spoken by Christ. This hymn is to be 
 found entire in the Acts of St John; see M. R. James, Apocrypha Anecdota, 
 2nd series. I quote the fragments Augustine cites : 
 
 salvare volo et salvari volo: 
 solvers volo et solvi volo: 
 
 generari volo: 
 
 saltate cuncti. 
 
 plangere volo, tundite ros omnes : 
 
 ornare volo et ornari volo: 
 
 lucerna sum tibi, ille qui me vides: 
 
 janua sum tibi quicumque me pulsas: 
 
 qui vides quod ago tace opera mea: 
 
 verbo illusi ciincta et non sum iHusus in totum.
 
 Sulpicim Severus 293 
 
 enough that they had been pronounced heretics by the bishops and 
 driven from the churches : it was a cruel and unheard of sin that a 
 secular judge should hear an ecclesiastical case 1 . He won a promise 
 from Maximus that no blood should be shed, "but afterwards the 
 Emperor was depraved by the bishops and turned away from milder 
 counsels," and Priscillian and others were put to death. That 
 some of these people, the earliest examples of Christians slain by 
 Christians for opinion's sake, were women, a professor's widow and 
 daughter from Bordeaux, excited great indignation 2 . It would seem 
 that Maximus, like another usurper in France, was bidding for the 
 support of the Church 3 . 
 
 The bishops were successful and now thought of going further 
 and having a commission sent to Spain to arrest and try heretics. 
 The assize would have been a bloody one, for their leader Ithacius 
 was a man, says Sulpicius, with no moderation and nothing of the 
 saint about him, extravagant, talkative and gluttonous. "He had 
 reached such a pitch of folly as to be ready to include under the 
 charge of Priscillian ism all holy men, who had either a love of 
 reading or a habit of fasting." The studium lectionis as a mark of 
 heresy might pass for a phrase of Erasmus. Elsewhere he says it 
 was clear that scant distinctions would be made, as the eye was 
 a good enough judge in such cases, for a man was proved a 
 heretic rather by his pale cheeks and his poor raiment than by his 
 belief 4 . 
 
 Martin once more appeared deeply grieved for the crime 
 committed, anxious about the crime preparing. He would not at 
 first communicate with the bishops, whom he not unjustly regarded 
 as guilty of Priscillian's murder, but when Maximus made his 
 communion the price of the stoppage of persecution he gave way. 
 But he felt he had lost spiritual power by so doing, as he had 
 previously done by being consecrated bishop, and thereafter he kept 
 studiously away from every gathering of bishops. Ambrose also 
 broke off all connexion with Ithacius and Ursacius. 
 
 Now throughout this strange story it is remarkable how clear 
 and definite is Sulpicius' judgment. He has no sympathy with 
 Priscillian's views, far from it, but he is moved to horror and indig- 
 nation by the conduct of the bishops. Maximus in some measure 
 
 1 Chron. ii. 50. 
 
 2 Cf. Pacatus, Paneg. Theod. 29, cited on p. 111. 
 
 3 Richter writing in 1865 drew an elaborate parallel between Maximus and 
 the eldest son of the Church. (See Hodgkin, Italy and her Invaders, i. 443.) 
 
 4 Dial. ii. 4.
 
 294 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 he excuses, and he points out that "not only was the heresy not 
 crushed by the killing of Priscillian, but strengthened and spread 
 further. For his followers, who had formerly honoured him as a 
 saint, afterwards began to worship (colere) him as a martyr. The 
 bodies of the slain were taken back to Spain, and their burial 
 celebrated with great pomp, and to swear ' by Priscillian ' was 
 counted the most binding of oaths. But amongst the orthodox 
 (nostros) there blazed a ceaseless war of quarrels, which after fifteen 
 years of dissensions could not yet be ended." All, he says, is 
 confusion as a result of the quarrelling, the lust and the greed of 
 the bishops, and "meanwhile the people of God and every good 
 man are treated with shame and mockery l ." So in the thirteenth 
 century "the priest," says Sabatier, "is the antithesis of the saint, 
 he is almost always his enemy." 
 
 We may now pass to a short review of the works of Sulpicius, 
 which fall into two divisions his writings on St Martin and his 
 Chronicle. 
 
 The Chronicle 2 is an epitome of Scripture history, supplemented 
 by a rapid survey of the ten persecutions of the Church (a 
 numeration for which he is one of the earliest authorities), a 
 glance over the Arian controversy and a rather fuller account of 
 the Priscillianist troubles. It is plain that the interest of the work 
 grows greater toward the end, for an epitome will generally lack 
 freshness. But in this case there are one or two things to be said. 
 First of all, the epitome is written in Sulpicius' usual style. It is 
 clear and lucid, and though short and concise does not give too 
 strong an impression of scrappiness. There is something of a 
 classical flavour here and there, and it strikes one as odd to read 
 of Jacob's burial, fun us magnifice curatum, or of Moses', dt> sepulcri 
 loco parum compertum. The phrases somehow do not suggest the 
 Pentateuch. He has a keen eye for chronology, on which he is at 
 issue with Archbishop Ussher to the extent of some sixteen 
 centuries 3 . After repeated difficulties with one figure after another 
 in his authorities he concludes: "I am sure that it is more likely 
 
 1 Chron. ii. 51. 
 
 2 This is the only work of Sulpicius precisely dated. He brings his work to 
 a conclusion in Stilicho's consulship, 400 A.D. (ii. 9 omne fnim tempus in Stili- 
 conem direxi.) Martin's life and the first letter seem to have been written before 
 Martin's death, which was sixteen years after his second visit to Maximus. 
 Maximus reigned from 383 388, but must have left Gaul about 386. Beinkens 
 puts the publication of the Life after Martin's death, that of the Dialogue in 
 the year 405, supposing Sulpicius to have died shortly after the year 406. 
 
 3 Chron. i. 40.
 
 Sulpicius Severus 295 
 
 that the truth has been lost by the carelessness of copyists, 
 especially when so many centuries have intervened, than that the 
 prophet should have erred. Just as in the case of my own little 
 book I expect it will befall that, by the carelessness of those who 
 transcribe it, things will be spoiled about which I have not been 
 careless." He keeps his story wonderfully clear of typology, only 
 once, I think, going so far as to remark a type, Deborah, it seems, 
 being a prefigurement of the Church. Where necessary, he reinforces 
 his story with material from secular historians, though he is careful 
 to explain that he regards their standing as very different. In this 
 way he has preserved for us a passage of Tacitus, otherwise lost, on the 
 destruction of the temple by Titus. He makes some shrewd remarks 
 on the effect on Christianity of the destruction of Jerusalem by 
 Hadrian, and the resultant removal of the servitude of the Law 
 from the freedom of the faith and of the Church. 
 
 It is remarkable how abruptly he passes from Isaiah 1 , merely 
 mentioning his name, while he recommends the careful study of 
 Ezekiel, whose prophecy is "magnificent, for the mystery of things 
 to come and of the resurrection was revealed to him 2 ." But when 
 he comes to Daniel he devotes to him a number of chapters and 
 gives an interesting interpretation of Nebuchadnezzar's dream. In 
 the feet of iron and clay was foretold the Roman Empire which is 
 to be divided (dividend-urn) so as never to cohere again. "This has 
 even so come to pass, for the Roman world is not administered by 
 one Emperor, but by several who are always quarrelling by war or 
 faction. Finally the mixture of clay and iron, whose substances 
 can never cohere, signifies the destined incompatible intermixtures 
 of mankind, for the Roman territory is held by foreign tribes or 
 rebels, or is handed over to them when they surrender and make 
 what passes for peace, and we see in our armies, our cities and 
 provinces admixtures of barbarous nations, chiefly Jews 3 , who dwell 
 among us but do not however adopt our ways. And the prophets 
 tell us that this is the end." He complains that men will not 
 
 1 St Augustine confesses that he too, at least before his baptism, found 
 Isaiah too hard, Con/, ix. 5, 13. Verum tamen ego primam hujus lectionem non 
 intelligent, totumque talem arbitrans, distuli repetendum exercitatior in dominico 
 eloquio. 
 
 2 Chron. ii. 3. 
 
 3 See authorities quoted by Seeck in an interesting note in his Gesch. des 
 Untergangs der Antiken Welt, p. 328, 11. 30, 31 ; note Salvian, de gub. Dei, iv. 
 14, 69, there cited, for an attitude toward Syrians in Gaul closely like that taken 
 in America toward the Jews. Add Butil. Namat. i. 383 396. It is one of the 
 most astonishing things to realize how many Syrians and Armenians, apart from 
 Jews, go to the New World to make money by peddling and return to Asia.
 
 296 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 believe in those parts of the vision which still remain to be fulfilled, 
 in spite of the fulfilment of it all so far. I have spoken before 
 of the millenarism of the school of Martin and this is one more 
 instance of it. 
 
 The Chronicle had a curious fate, for after the invention of 
 printing it was used as a manual of history in schools for a century 
 and a half, and at one time incurred the ignorant suspicions of the 
 authorities of the Index l . 
 
 His other writings deal mainly with St Martin. His Life of 
 Martin is a model of biography though it has too many marvels 
 for the taste of to-day 2 . He supplemented it with three letters 
 on his great leader, and from these we learn that it was written 
 before Martin's death, which comes upon us as a surprise ; for one 
 would never judge from its style that its subject was living. It 
 may indeed have been revised, but this is mere conjecture. 
 
 In the Dialogue he continues the same subject, though he 
 prefixes to it an account of the monks of Upper Egypt. The 
 interlocutors are three himself, Gallus, a Gaul from the North, 
 and Postumian, like himself an Aquitanian. Postumian begins 
 with the story of his travels, how he sailed to Carthage and wor- 
 shipped at St Cyprian's tomb, how bad weather gave him a glimpse 
 of a curious little Christian community of shepherds in the desert, 
 how he went to Alexandria when the famous quarrel about the Tall 
 Brothers was at its height, and thence how he went to Bethlehem 
 and stayed with St Jerome, and to the deserts of the Thebaid and 
 saw all manner of holy men. Some of his tales are a little sadden- 
 ing. When obedience is carried to such a pitch that one foolish 
 man at the bidding of another will spend two years in carrying 
 water a mile to water a walking-stick, one feels there is some 
 fundamental error in the system. The holy man, who lived alone 
 on Mt Sinai for years and years, and by God's blessing did not 
 know he was naked, who ran from his fellow men, and when at last 
 
 ) 
 
 1 Symonds, The Renaissance in Italy, vol. vi. p. 221, "Sigonius, a Vatican 
 student, was instructed to prepare certain text-books by Cardinal Paleotti. 
 These were an ecclesiastical history, a treatise on the Hebrew commonwealth 
 and an edition of Sulpicius Severus. The manuscripts were returned to him, 
 accused of unsound doctrine and scrawled over with such remarks as 'false,' 
 'absurd.' " 
 
 2 Even Paulinus deviates into relevance (Ep. xi. 11) to say of this Life: 
 historiam tarn digno sennone qiiam justo affectu percensuisti. Beatus et ille pro 
 mentis qui dignum fide et vita sua meruit historicum. The Life was done into 
 hexameters in the 5th century by Paulinus of Perigueux, and in the 7th by 
 Venantius Fortunatus. Probably the original prose will be preferred by most 
 readers.
 
 Sulpicius Severus 297 
 
 he deigned a word to one explained that angels will not visit him 
 who dwells with other men, might, I am afraid, to-day be counted 
 as merely insane. The pleasanter tales tell of wild beasts tamed 
 and making friends with solitary hermits, though one fears that 
 the tale of the grateful lioness who sought a holy man's aid to give 
 sight to her blind cubs, and presented him a day or two later 
 with the skin of some rare ' animal, may seem to fall short of 
 probability. 
 
 When Postumian's travels are told, Gallus tells of St Martin 
 and manages to eclipse point by point the marvels of the desert 
 with the miracles of Gaul. It has been remarked that these stories 
 are put by Sulpicius into the mouth of his Celtic friend as if with 
 the intention of suggesting that they are not to be taken quite 
 literally, but his digression in the third book (to which I have 
 alluded) seems to make this view impossible. 
 
 One of the most interesting things in the Dialogue is the naive 
 account of the wonderful success of the Life of Martin 1 . It was 
 Postumian's "companion by land and sea, his fellow and comforter 
 in all his pilgrimage," and he found it before him wherever he went. 
 Paulinus had introduced it to Rome, where it sold like wildfire 
 to the vast delight of the booksellers. It was already the talk of 
 Carthage when Postumian got there. At Alexandria nearly every- 
 body knew it better than Sulpicius himself. It was spread all over 
 Egypt, and Postumian brought a request from the desert for a 
 sequel. Sulpicius hopes that the Dialogue may do as well as the 
 Life*. 
 
 Several general features remain to be remarked in the works 
 of Sulpicius. To his belief in miracles and visions I have already 
 referred. With this, I think, we should associate his millenarian 
 views. They too seem to be due to St Martin. It is a curious 
 thing how often a belief in the speedy return of Christ goes with 
 a revival of the religious life, a Nemesis one might perhaps say of 
 literalism, almost of materialism, shadowing the development of the 
 spiritual. 
 
 His earliest reference tq the subject is in the Life of Martin. 
 A false prophet, Anatolius by name, appeared in Gaul 3 , and another 
 simultaneously in Spain. The latter began by being Elias and then 
 
 1 Dial. i. 23. Paulinus in one of his letters (xxix. 14) tells how he read the 
 Life to the very saintly lady Melania and others. The lady was much interested 
 in lives of holy men. 
 
 2 Dial. Hi. 17. 3 V. Mart. 23.
 
 298 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 proceeded to be Christ, and actually got a Spanish bishop to admit 
 his claim and worship him as God 1 . Sulpicius continues, "A good 
 many brethren also told us that at the same time there had risen in 
 the East a person who proclaimed that he was John. From all this 
 we may conjecture, when so many false prophets appear, that the 
 coming of Antichrist is at hand, and that he is already working in 
 them the mystery of iniquity." 
 
 The whole of this line of thought betrays at this early date 
 as ever since the influence of the books of Daniel and Revelation, 
 and in point of fact Martin and Sulpicius were nearer the original 
 than their successors, for they realized that Nero was portended 
 by the latter book 2 . Martin said that Nero would subdue ten kings 
 and become Emperor in the West, Antichrist in the East. Each 
 would start persecution, Nero in the interests of idolatry, Antichrist 
 seemingly of Judaism, for he was to rebuild the Temple 3 , enjoin 
 circumcision and claim worship as Christ. There was to be civil 
 war between them, as so often between West and East, and Nero 
 should fall and Antichrist reign, till the man of sin should be 
 crushed by Christ's coming. Antichrist was in fact already born, 
 had reached boyhood even, at the time of Martin's speaking, eight 
 years before Sulpicius wrote his Dialogue, "so take thought how 
 near at hand are the things men dread as still in the future 4 ." 
 
 In the Chronicle, Sulpicius says less, perhaps because more was 
 unfitting in hoc tarn praeciso opere. All he says is that Nero was 
 "a very fitting person to inaugurate the persecution of Christians 5 , 
 and perhaps he will yet be the last to carry it out, for it is believed 
 by many that he will come in person before Antichrist 6 ." But we 
 need not go further into the subject, for the dangers of the inter- 
 pretation of prophecy are obvious, and there is little pleasure to be 
 derived from the contemplation of the errors and eccentricities of 
 good men. 
 
 1 V. Mart. 24. 
 
 2 For stories of false Neros see Tacitus, Hist. i. 2 ; ii. 8, a pretender about 
 the year 70; and Suetonius, Nero, 57, apparently another twenty years later. 
 Dio Chrysostom, Or. xxi. 10 (de Pulchritudine) oi dt irXewrot xal olovrai (that 
 Nero lives), Kalirep rpoirov riva ovx a?ra avrov TedvijKbros, d\\a TroXXawj /xera 
 TUV ff(f>6Spa ol^BlvT(i)v avrbv rjv. 
 
 3 Is this a far away memory of the Emperor Julian's attempt to rebuild it? 
 
 4 Dial. ii. 14. Jerome on Ezekiel xxxvi. (Migne, col. 339 B) alludes to these 
 views devTfpdxreis, a Jerusalem of gold, the restoration of the Jews etc., as 
 lately upheld by Severus noster in dialogo cui Gallo nomen imposuit. 
 
 5 Cf. Tertullian on Nero, Apology 5. Sed tali dedicatore damnationis nostrae 
 etiam gloriamur, etc. 
 
 8 Chron. ii. 28.
 
 Sulpicius Severus 299 
 
 I have alluded more than once to the ill-will between the monks 
 and the bishops which was not lessened with time, though ever and 
 again a monk was made a bishop. Sometimes like St Martin he 
 would remember his calling, but not always, for Sulpicius has much 
 to say about monks losing their heads on being ordained or conse- 
 crated, and conceiving passions for building, for maintaining great 
 establishments and travelling with ease and magnificence with 
 multitudes of horses and servants 1 . Again and again he protests 
 against luxury and display and more serious vices among the 
 bishops and clergy. They have forgotten, if they ever knew, that 
 Levi received no share in the land of Canaan ; at least one would 
 suppose so from their eagerness for acquiring property in land 2 . 
 Prudentius says much the same, only more ingeniously, for by a 
 little anachronism, involving a century and a half, he puts into the 
 mouth of a dead and gone persecutor the words 
 
 et summa pietas creditur 
 nudare dulces liberos 3 . 
 
 But worse still was their habit of consorting with spiritual 
 sisters 4 . This was no new story, and perhaps it will never be old. 
 Cyprian long ago had written against the practice, and Jerome 
 fulminated against it still. He was himself the friend and adviser 
 of many women, and many of his letters to the nun Eustochium 
 and other ladies survive 5 . There seems to be a perennial fascina- 
 tion about the clergy for spiritually- minded women, but surely, 
 Sulpicius felt, monks have renounced feminine society and nuns 
 masculine. Scandals occurred oftener than so strait a school cared 
 to see them, and we find it told with pride how Martin but once in 
 his life allowed a woman to minister to him. But "as the grammarians 
 do, we must consider place, time and person 6 ," and it was the queen 
 of Maximus and her husband was present. One very scrupulous 
 
 1 Dial. i. 21. 
 
 2 Chron. i. 23. Non solum immemores sed etiam ignari. Note his conclusion 
 as to the meaning of their rapacity; quasi venalem praeferunt sanctitatem. 
 
 3 Steph. ii. 834. 
 
 4 Two Councils at least in the 4th century condemned this consorting with 
 syneisaktoi and agapetae. The 3rd Canon of the Council of Nicaea, and the 
 27th of Elvira both forbid it. "Spiritual brothers" and "sons" are mentioned 
 by Gregory of Nazianzus and Jerome. See Dale, Council of Elvira, p. 200. On 
 the better aspects of this matter the reader may consult Sabatier's interesting 
 elwptcr on St Clara in his work on St Francis of Assisi. 
 
 5 Xnsti /iiiclliires (ininwx his rebus plcrumque solidari, si se intelligant curae 
 esse major ibus, he says (Ep. 7, 4) a very worthy reason for very extraordinary 
 letters to be written to a girl of seventeen or eighteen. 
 
 6 Dial. ii. 7.
 
 300 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 virgin point-blank refused to see Martin himself, for though thau- 
 maturge and bishop it could not be disguised that he was after 
 all a man ' ; and Martin praised her for her modesty. Well 
 indeed might Gallus say that if we were all like Martin, we should 
 not so much discuss the caitsas de osculo: "But after all we are 
 Gauls 2 ." 
 
 One mark of the monastic movement was its new relation with 
 nature, a new interest in birds and beasts, a new love for them. 
 Pet birds and dogs the old heathen world had known, but now man 
 and animal met on more equal terms of freedom, and we read 
 already of wolves and lions who were friends of the Egyptian monks. 
 Martin, himself, does not seem to have been intimate with any 
 animal, still we hear of him saving a hare from some hounds, and 
 there is a curious parable from nature recorded, not, it must be 
 said, a very happy one. The seagulls that flew up the Loire and 
 caught the fish were, he said, a type of the powers of evil seeking 
 the human soul. It reminds one of Bunyan's Book for Boys and 
 Girls, and its odd expositions of natural things. On the sacred 
 trees of the heathen Gauls Martin waged relentless war, hewing 
 them down by grace of miracle in spite of protest. 
 
 We now come to the last story told of Sulpicius, which, I should 
 say, I find strong reason for doubting. Sulpicius, as we have seen, 
 renounced the world and its allurements to become a monk, to live 
 the life best adapted, as men thought then, to the quest of holiness. 
 The thought of sin was often in his mind, his life in fact was a hand 
 to hand battle with sin. Now in the west, among men of his own 
 blood, rose a teacher with a new doctrine of sin Pelagius. It may 
 seem odd to find a Celt, a British Celt, with a Greek name, but we 
 find quite a number of Greek names among the Gallic and Spanish 
 monks in Sulpicius' pages 3 Eucherius, Euanthius, Aetherius and 
 Potamius, and a Briton Pelagius was. Into Pelagianism we need 
 not enter, but certain features should be remarked. Faith is not 
 enough to save a man ; it must be reinforced by works, by conduct, 
 by watchfulness ; and a man's will-power, aided by grace (which is 
 
 1 On the other hand when Martin slept in a vestry of the church at Claudio- 
 magus, on his departure there was a rush (inruerunt) of virgins into the room, 
 to kiss the spots where he had sat or stood, and to divide up the straw on which 
 he had lain. Dial. ii. 8. 
 
 2 Dial. ii. 8. 
 
 3 The Celt carried his fancy for a little Greek so far, that in Irish uss. we 
 are apt to find stray Latin words written in Greek character. The Greek names 
 may, perhaps, be illustrated hy the habit native converts in India have of giving 
 their children English names.
 
 Sulpicius Severus 301 
 
 won by his good inclinations), and supported by good works, may 
 secure him a pure life, not indeed free from temptation, but from 
 sin. Underlying all this there was to begin with a protest against 
 the worldliness and evil living of professing Christians, though the 
 logical outcome of the system was really to underestimate sin. But 
 for the time it was urged that a low standard was not inevitable ; 
 the highest was attainable, if proper means were taken. The proper 
 means meant the monastic life generally. 
 
 This view of the possibilities of Christian living was a monk's, 
 a Celtic monk's, and from what we have seen of Sulpicius, it will 
 not be altogether siirprising to read in Gennadius that he adopted 
 Pelagius' position '. Millenarism and an over-hasty idea of achieving 
 sinlessness not uncommonly go together and it may be that Sulpicius 
 became a Pelagian. Gennadius wrote a refutation of the heresy, 
 which is lost, and he might be supposed to know who were its leading 
 adherents. He adds, however, that Sulpicius ultimately realized he 
 had made a mistake and renounced his error, and in his repentance 
 abjured speech for ever, "to expiate by silence the sin he had 
 contracted by speech." Whether we believe all this to be true or 
 not 2 depends on whether we accept Gennadius' story, but it must be 
 admitted it is not inherently impossible. It would be sad to think 
 of this most genial and gentle of men ending his days in the agony 
 of remorse and silence, but even if he did, it does not lessen the 
 value of his delightful works. Probably, however, the story is a 
 mistake, the invention of stupidity. 
 
 Reviewing the life of Sulpicius, it may seem to us strange that 
 a man of good family and culture should so surrender himself to the 
 guidance of a man his inferior in everything society valued, should 
 surrender above all his judgment and accept so much that would 
 appear contrary to reason, to sense and to experience. Yet, after 
 all, it is not a very rare phenomenon. Our own day has seen a 
 
 1 Gennadius, Vir. III. 19. 
 
 2 More and more I incline to think that this siorysilentium usque ad 
 mortem tenuit is, after all, a mere misunderstanding of Paulinus' phrases 
 confugisti ad pietatis silentium ut evaderes iniquitatis tumultum. Mutescere 
 voluisti mortalibus ut ore puro "divina loquereris et pollutant canina facundia 
 linguam Christi laudibus et comme.moratione ipsa pii nominis expiares (Ep. v. 6). 
 Gennadius mentions (c. 49) that Paulinus wrote ad Severum plitres epistulas, 
 nor is this his only allusion, and he obviously depends for all his other state- 
 ments on these letters and on Sulpicius himself. List-making is a poor trade, 
 and such a blunder is not very improbable. Paulinus Petricordius (of Perigueux) 
 a contemporary of Gennadius (469 490) who did Severus' Martin into an epic 
 of six books, speaks of him with admiration, but no hint of this story. See 
 Book v. (1052 c, Migne). Eeinkens, without discussing the origin of Gennadius' 
 story, dismisses it as untrue.
 
 302 Life and Letters in tJie Fourth Century 
 
 similar renunciation of everything by a man of letters, a member of 
 the English House of Commons, who at the word of one he believed 
 inspired of God, left all to work on a farm and sell strawberries on a 
 train, still retaining a buoyant cheerfulness. Whatever we may 
 make of his teaching, we cannot but respect the spirit of Laurence 
 Oliphant. 
 
 It may, however, be said, that while Sulpicius' problem is the 
 constant problem of mankind, his solution is not satisfactory. 
 Though many things in his day made it attractive to men of a 
 religious temper, it none the less rested eventually on a funda- 
 mentally false philosophy, a wrong explanation of the world, the old 
 Oriental mistrust of matter and of the body. Over and over again 
 since Sulpicius' day this mistake has been exposed, error, as Augustine 
 says, proving in all sorts and kinds of strange ways its own punish- 
 ment, revolting against its own consequences and exposing itself. 
 But if the monastic solution of the problem of holy living will not 
 satisfy mankind in the long run, it must not be forgotten that a 
 debt of gratitude is due to the men who had the nobility of character 
 to venture all on the experiment. That it failed proves their judg- 
 ment was unsound, but it does not affect the fact that they thought 
 such an experiment worth while.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 PALLADAS 
 
 O wedding-guest ! this soul hath been 
 
 Alone on a wide, wide sea; 
 So lonely 't was that God himself 
 
 Scarce seemed there to be. 
 
 THE great note that distinguishes Christian from heathen 
 literature is its fundamental gladness. On the surface it may 
 seem sad at times ; 
 
 hora novissima, tempora pessima; 
 
 but there is a deep-rooted consolation in the thought, terrible 
 though it be, that follows ; 
 
 imminet arbiter ille supremus. 
 
 This at least implies distinctions drawn between what is good and 
 what is bad, a moral supremacy in the world of One who is of 
 purer eyes than to behold iniquity, and therein the value of life and 
 of holy life. The absence of any certainty that life has a permanent 
 value is the canker at the heart of heathenism. 
 
 It is hard to understand aright the heathenism of the Roman 
 world. It calls for sympathetic treatment, if we are to read its 
 spirit as well as its words. Underneath its varying moods is the 
 same weariness, the same restlessness, that shews itself to-day under 
 moods very similar. There is the quest for certainty which is 
 not to be found. In reason some men sought it and their con- 
 clusion was an uncertainty that grew more and more uncertain and 
 unhappy. Others turned to religious revival and looked to Cybele, 
 to Isis, to Mithras, to any god and every god, and found perhaps 
 more comfort than the others, but hardly, if they thought, more
 
 304 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 certainty. It is worth while to study these lines of inquiry in some 
 typical minds, until in Palladas at the end of the fourth century we 
 reach the final conclusion to which Greek thought came. 
 
 The Latin poets of the last century B c. are so largely influenced 
 by Greek thought, and the Latin habit was so commonly to look to 
 results rather than to follow methods, that we can gauge by the 
 words of the Roman much of the thought of the world. 
 
 Lucretius preaches with fervour the wisdom of Epicurus. The 
 gods have no existence, except as shadowy beings who live afar, 
 as little concerned with us as men in an undiscovered island. 
 There is no hell, no hereafter. No man need shudder at death, 
 since in death he will not feel the loss of wife or children, for he 
 will be resolved into elements, which will immediately recompose 
 into something else, something quite distinct from the man they 
 lately formed. Hence with no higher powers above him, and no 
 future world before him, man can rid himself of that religious dread, 
 which spoils and poisons all his happiness. He can dismiss the idle 
 terrors of death and enjoy life. This was on the whole a dangerous 
 theory. It was one thing in the mind of Lucretius, but quite 
 another in the more commonplace minds around him. If it was 
 not to lead to mere self-indulgence, more self-control and more 
 thought were required than were possible for ordinary people. 
 But there were other considerations of perhaps even more import- 
 ance. 
 
 For there is another side to all this. If a man die, he is free 
 from desire to see his dear ones, but what of them ? Theirs is 
 "the pain of finite hearts that yearn." Tennyson remarks that no 
 poem of farewell to the dead written to-day can have the terrible 
 pathos of Catullus' 
 
 atque IN PERPETVUM frater ave otque vale. 
 
 In pei-petuum! If we are to be merry, we must have no brothers, 
 then, or not feel it if they die. Yet who would not rather choose 
 "the poet's hopeless woe"? 
 
 In Horace we find the thought of death as constantly introduced 
 as in The Earthly Paradise. How far Lucretius directly influenced 
 him, this is not the place to discuss, but it was upon the Epicurean 
 theory that Horace lived on the whole. He is not consistent. 
 He is for enjoying the present, but his views of enjoyment undergo 
 a change, and as he grows older and his pleasures purer, he seems to 
 grow less satisfied with himself and his theory of life. He betrays a
 
 Palladas 305 
 
 sense of failure ; effort and all a man can do for himself are not 
 enough, and placid and clean Epicureanism proves inadequate. 
 
 Contemporary with these men were Virgil and Tibullus, who 
 have a good deal in common. Tibullus harks back to the gods of 
 the countryside. Speculation may have its charms for others, they 
 are not for him. He will stand quietly and gladly in the old ways, 
 very largely insensible to the currents of philosophic thought. But 
 Virgil is a greater mind. His is a greatness that grows on the 
 reader who will read him much and with love. He had been caught 
 by the spell of Lucretius, by the glory and majesty of the knowledge 
 of Nature and her ways 
 
 felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere caussas 
 
 he too loved the quiet life that Horace sang, but he knew the 
 sorrows of the human heart even better than Catullus knew them. 
 Ever and again we hear the note of sorrow in his music, of sorrow 
 that will not be assuaged though Pallas or Lausus, Creusa or Dido 
 be resolved into insensate atoms, each instinctively swerving in 
 search of others to combine with to form another fortuitous con- 
 currence, which shall have to learn the same gamut of woe to as 
 little purpose. Life after all involves more than atoms. It carries 
 with it deep seated affections and tender yearnings, which must 
 either imply the reunion of Dido and Sychaeus, of Anchises and 
 Aeneas, or else wrap man's existence in deeper and blacker sorrow. 
 Before the eyes of Love hovers 
 
 ipsius umbra Creusae, 
 
 and the poet turns from the cold and really, if not superficially, 
 loveless life Lucretius required, and exclaims 
 
 fortunatus et ille, deos qui novit agrestes. 
 
 It is the revolt of the feelings of the man against the logic of the 
 thinker significant as coming from a disciple, who was also a 
 sufferer and a poet. This testimony of heathenism (one can hardly 
 write the word of Virgil) to* the unsatisfactoriness of Epicurus' 
 godless atoms is remarkable. 
 
 It is not surprising to find, when a Virgil revolts, that for 
 common people atheism was inadequate. It appeals indeed to man 
 at his lowest Ovid was probably an atheist but let the recollec- 
 tion of better things come to the voluptuary and he casts his 
 atheism aside for devotion. Sacrifice, lustration, initiation and all 
 
 G. 20
 
 306 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 kinds of ritual flourished alongside of the atheism of the early 
 Empire. 
 
 As time went on, the sadness of heathenism deepened. Lucan 
 may be glib enough and prove by an epigram that the fall of the 
 Koman republic means the non-existence of gods', and Persius may 
 be quite happy in a young and innocent life with the view that all 
 that is needed is effort and purity follows, without much reference 
 to heaven. But the second century saw the pendulum swing away 
 from atheism into superstition. The world was growing too un- 
 happy to be atheist, and the gods came back from exile and brought 
 strange friends with them^. Their votaries had cast them out, and 
 now recalled them and "kissed again with tears." Some might 
 mock, but most worshipped, and among the doubters were devotees. 
 Three great names stand out in literature at the century's end, 
 Lucian, Marcus Aurelius and Apuleius. 
 
 Lucian, a Syrian Greek of Samosata, was a scoffer in grain. He 
 might be serious at times, but never reverent. His position was 
 sceptical. There were riddles of life, but no man could ever guess 
 them why try? The gods were excellent butts for flippant wits, 
 and nearly as good were the philosophers, the preachers and teachers 
 who would not practise what they taught others. His humour is of a 
 type not unfamiliar to-day. To jest at the scriptures and wittily to 
 insinuate that a teacher of Christianity is probably a hypocrite, 
 possibly a rogue or certainly a fool, may still please some minds. 
 It is not very fresh by now, but perhaps in Lucian's day it was more 
 novel; perhaps, too, such mirth had a shade more truth about it. 
 Still I feel that they exaggerate who attribute much weight to 
 Lucian and his school in the downfall of paganism. Flippancy is 
 not so fatal to a Pantheon as moral dissatisfaction, and in so 
 religious an age Christianity grew because it offered men a higher 
 ideal itself, and not because scoffers laughed at the ideas of God 
 and Truth and every other thing that made for righteousness. 
 
 Perhaps the most read book of the age is the diary of Marcus 
 Aurelius in many ways the saddest of all books. Its manliness 
 and purity, its high ideals and earnestness, make more pathetic that 
 haunting uncertainty and want of rest, which one feels throughout 
 it. The theory of life is so obviously only a working hypothesis, 
 
 1 See vii. 454. 
 
 2 Chassang, Histoire du Roman, p. 400: "Vers le premier siecle de 1'ere 
 chre'tienne, la fureur de la magie s'empara de tout le monde paien." Compare 
 the works of Philostratus, especially his Apollonius of Tyana, and Lucian's 
 Lover of Falsehood and Alexander.
 
 Palladas 307 
 
 unverifiable at best. Whenever doubt clouds religion, men will turn 
 to Marcus and see in him perhaps the highest level reached by the 
 religious temper that seeks truth but cannot be sure of finding it. 
 He is no atheist, no sceptic perhaps, but he looks for heavenly 
 guidance and is not conscious of receiving it, and so he makes his 
 own way sadly as well as he can. Yet from the story of his life we 
 learn that this thinker, this speculator, emancipated as we might 
 suppose him from common weakness, sacrificed perhaps more than 
 any other Roman Emperor. If he was not to attain light from the 
 gods, it was not to be for want of asking it. So doubt and devotion 
 went hand in hand in sadness. 
 
 Apuleius in after days passed for a magician; indeed men 
 accused him of magic while he lived, but I mention him in order to 
 compare his immortal book with one of Lucian's, one at least at- 
 tributed to Lucian by many people. The Golden Ass (a much better 
 title than the Metamorphoses and one which has St Augustine's 
 sanction) is either modelled on Lucian's Lucius, or the Ass 1 , or more 
 probably both are drawn from a common source. Both deal with 
 witchcraft, and introduce us to a hero, Lucius, who by meddling with 
 a sorceress' boxes transforms himself into a donkey and in this form 
 has a series of wonderful adventures. The Golden Ass follows one 
 by one the episodes of Lucian, enlarging and digressing very 
 admirably, and giving us a wonderful panorama of provincial life, 
 its humours, comedies, tragedies, and above all its perils. There 
 are woven into it stories after the manner of Boccaccio 2 , and of 
 the Hundred Mery Tales, adventures with brigands and soldiers 
 alike dangerous to honest folk, the exquisite tale of Cupid and 
 Psyche, and in a word quidquid agunt homines Asini farrago libelli. 
 But the significant thing is that at the end Apuleius entirely departs 
 from Lucian. In Lucian the human donkey runs into a procession 
 by accident and, finding a priest carrying roses, eats them and is a 
 man again. In Apuleius he escapes to the sea-shore and delivers 
 himself of a long and careful prayer to a goddess of many names and 
 prays her for release. She comes to him in a dream, and acknow- 
 ledges his prayer, telling him that the many names are indeed all 
 her own, but her truest name is Isis, and she directs him to meet the 
 procession, when the priest, instructed by her in a similar dream, 
 
 1 See Cbassang, Histoire du Roman, pp. 401, 402. 
 
 3 The tale of the cooper, for example, is common to Apnleius and Boccaccio. 
 How far does such a fact affect the value of such tales as evidence of the 
 manners and morals of an age? 
 
 202
 
 308 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 will tender him the roses. So it befalls, but while Lucian ends his 
 story with one more obscene incident to cap all, Apuleius shews us 
 Lucius a converted character, intent on nothing but initiation and 
 undergoing no less than three special introductions to the Mysteries 
 as a mark of divine favour. And what did he learn by it all ? "I 
 approached the confine of death ; I trod the threshold of Proserpine ; 
 I was borne through all the elements and returned. At midnight 
 I saw the sun flashing with fair light. The gods of the lower world 
 and the gods of the world above I drew near unto, and I adored 
 them from close at hand 1 ." So ends in initiation and divine 
 revelation the most amusing, the most brilliant and the most 
 Aristophanic of all books in Latin. 
 
 This is significant. There were instincts in man too strong and 
 too profound to accept a negative conclusion or no conclusion at all 
 to the great quest. Lucian might mock, and Marcus hesitate ; the 
 mass of men must believe something. The pity of it was that they 
 found nothing better to believe in than I sis and Mithras. 
 
 We are apt to forget how much paganism was left in the fourth 
 century. It was not clamorous but quiet and content as a rule to 
 be left alone. There were some writers, honest heathens, who said 
 nothing one way or another about their tenets. Others found their 
 interest in gentle retrospect and old association, their faith a 
 sentimental cherishing of ancestral tradition. But the stronger 
 spirits went further, and were absorbed and illumined by a 
 revived, or rather perhaps a new, heathenism, different in many 
 ways from the old heathenism of Greek and Roman, different too 
 from that of Phrygian and Egyptian. It appealed to the individual 
 as did the latter, but otherwise, for it went deeper than lustration 
 and sacrament. It was a faith that appealed to reason, emotion 
 and imagination, a blend of everything congruous or incongruous, 
 philosophy, theosophy, mysticism, magic, ritual, trance, asceticism, 
 what not. One of the most conspicuous of the adherents of this 
 new religion is Julian, the more faithful an exponent of it for not 
 being an original thinker. He betrays clearly what we feel must 
 have had a great deal to do with the revival from long before the 
 influence of Christianity. His grand scheme of the Catholic Church 
 of Hellenism has been discussed elsewhere. Its failure was the 
 death-knell of heathenism. The latest and grandest of all attacks 
 on Christianity was a fiasco, and thinking men must have realized 
 it. And so they did ; and in the unhappy Palladas we have one 
 1 Apuleius, Met. xi. 23.
 
 Palladas 309 
 
 who saw the old order pass away giving place to none, and his 
 bitter hopelessness is the last dark mood of dying heathenism. Its 
 consolations were gone. The exhilarating atheism of Lucretius, 
 weighed and found wanting by Virgil, was impossible. The moral 
 enthusiasm of Persius, unconscious of weakness, and the moral 
 purpose of Marcus, painfully aware that he is not sure of anything, 
 were out of the question for the Alexandrian scholar, who could find 
 no base to build on and would not build without a base. Apuleius 
 and Julian might draw comfort from Isis and from Mithras, but 
 Palladas could not find support in gods who could not support 
 themselves. As for Lucian's flippant scepticism, the times forbade 
 it. Sceptical a man might be, but the burden of life was too heavy 
 for flippancy. So it may repay us to study for a little the work of 
 Palladas. 
 
 In the Greek Anthology, that wonderful garland of the flowers 
 and weeds of fifteen centuries of literature, his is one of the most 
 frequent names, so frequent indeed as perhaps really to affect the 
 colour of the whole. An epigram among the Greeks was at first 
 an inscription, and, as almost anything might be inscribed, it came 
 to designate roughly anything written in verse, whether in one line 
 or a dozen, dealing with any and every conceivable subject. Hence 
 in the Anthology, beside inscriptions for tombs, for statues and 
 paintings, and dedicatory verses for shrines, we have a highly 
 miscellaneous collection of criticisms of life and literature, remarks 
 on Providence, Chance and the vagaries of Destiny, "quips and 
 cranks and wanton wiles," jibes, flouts and sneers of every type of 
 humour and sometimes of no humour at all. The earlier epigrams 
 have the calm equipoise of all Greek art, rhythm and thought in 
 harmony ; but as we come to later writers, the epigrams tend more 
 and more to resemble those of the Romans, who set the fashion for 
 ourselves, and held that an epigram like the apocalyptic scorpion 
 should wear its sting in its tail. Naturally a degeneration set in, 
 when poetry yielded place to point and pun, and the epigram was 
 gradually abandoned by the poet to the versifier. 
 
 Palladas ' has been called/ rather cruelly, versifaator insulsissi- 
 
 1 I only know of one allusion to Palladas in ancient literature. An epigram 
 of a conventional character exists, in which the writer gently deprecates being 
 compared with Palladas (or Palladius, as the exigencies of verse require). 
 I think it will be seen from the epigrams to be quoted that neither in virtue of 
 his inspiration nor his music was Palladas the man to found a school. Is it 
 impossible that Claudian, a fellow-citizen and contemporary of his, means 
 Palladas, when he writes Sic non Tartareo furiai~um verbere pulsus \ irati 
 relegam carmina grammatici?
 
 310 Life and Letters in the Fourth Centura 
 
 mus. He is partly to blame for this, even if it is a little hard. On 
 the same subject he will make epigram after epigram, though his 
 theme be at best as trivial as his lines. His verse is apt to be 
 lumbering, and he will repeat the same thought without adding 
 materially to the force of its expression. Somewhat lacking in 
 grace, he does not always achieve point, and sometimes when he 
 does the point is poor. Yet Palladas must and will be heard. We 
 have one hundred and fifty of his epigrams, and we have no reason 
 to believe that these were all he wrote, yet of them we might 
 sacrifice a half or two-thirds without any substantial loss. 
 
 The greater number of these little poems deal with one subject, 
 and the spirit in which he writes of it, his savage insistence, and 
 the terrible humour with which he clothes and reclothes his one 
 idea in one startling garb and another, gloomy and grim, command 
 attention for him. The melancholy and the misery of life, the 
 vanity and vexatiousness of things are his constant burden. Of all 
 Greek writers he is most like Theognis. We must bear in mind 
 however that it is not always easy to say for how much of the work 
 that bears his name Theognis was responsible. And at all events 
 Theognis, whatever he may have disbelieved, had a saving faith in 
 gentlemen, in birth and breeding, which may not be so satisfying a 
 faith as some, but has fine elements nevertheless. Palladas had not 
 that faith; possibly there were not many Greek gentlemen left in 
 the fourth century. Over and above his atheism he has a highly 
 developed disbelief in man. 
 
 Society in Alexandria in Palladas' day is perhaps best known 
 to the English reader in Kingsley's novel Hypatia. If heathenism 
 was exhausted and had nothing to offer the weary soul, Chris- 
 tianity as a spiritual system could hardly have been attractive 
 when presented by such men as the bishops Theophilus and Cyril. 
 When honest heathen thought ill of Athanasius, what can they have 
 thought of his successors ? and if the rulers of the Church were such, 
 what was to be expected from officials like Orestes ? and there were 
 worse men than Orestes, as we may read in the pages of Ammianus 
 Marcellinus. 
 
 Hence we need not be surprised at the tone of Palladas about 
 society, about great men and their toadies. Rulers with pleasant 
 manners, he says, are generally thieves; and honest rulers generally 
 have nasty manners 1 . Gold is a terror to possess, and anguish not 
 
 1 Ajith. P. ix. 393.
 
 Palladas 311 
 
 to possess 1 . The rich are insolent, and if they deviate into polite- 
 ness their compliments dinners 3 , presents or what not are usually 
 the refinement of insult. Zeus himself, if he were poor, would be 
 treated with outrage. There is just a possibility that Palladas may 
 have been soured by waiting in vain for promotion. At any rate an 
 epigram speaks of years of wretchedness and literature, and the 
 final descent into Hades of a Councillor of the Dead. Did 
 promotion come too late to be enjoyable ? the point is a small one and 
 does not greatly matter. The main thing is, that society was rotten. 
 Palladas was a grammarian, a student and a teacher of the 
 ancient literature of Greece, still every whit as precious and 
 absorbing as it had ever been. It is astonishing to us to realize 
 what delight men took in the form, quite apart from the spirit, of 
 Greek literature. Now Palladas does not seem to take delight in it 
 at all. A man may many men do lament the miseries of a 
 profession freely chosen and not really distasteful; it is a form of 
 humour, perhaps of modesty ; but at all events the scholar and the 
 artist are apt to take a joy in their work, to feel enthusiasm for 
 what they are doing, and what other men have done before them. 
 In no republic is there so much loyalty as in that of letters, but it 
 is difficult to discover in Palladas a line that implies delight in his 
 work. One or another of his epigrams about it may well be ironic, 
 but the general impression is of a yoke borne without much love. 
 Here and there he speaks of selling his books 3 , for Syntax is the 
 death of him not an unpardonable feeling surely but we find him 
 out when he deals with Homer. Even here he displays no feeling 
 for the greatest of Greek poets. He uses him freely, and abuses 
 him as freely. His great discovery is that Homer was a misogynist. 
 Circe points a moral to keep good company 4 , and the general gist of 
 both Iliad and Odyssey is that woman is a failure. 
 
 All women, good or bad, are snares, 
 All deadly, Homer's self declares : 
 Men die for Helen's sin : like waste 
 Attends Penelope the chaste. 
 Thus springs from woman, good or bad, 
 An Odyssey, an Iliad 5 . 
 
 1 Anth. P. ix. 394. 2 Anth. P. ix. 377, 484, 487. 
 
 3 Anth. P. ix. 171, 175. 4 Anth. P. x. 50. 
 
 5 \\.a.<rav "Q/jnjpos 5eie KO-nrfv <r<f>a.\epi]v re yvvaiKa, 
 
 fftlxftpova Kal Tr6pvr)v d/u^or^pas oXeOpov. 
 tK yap TTJS 'EX^CT/s fj.oixevffa.fju-j'ris <p6vos a.v5pCiv, 
 
 Kal Sia ff<t)(f)poff)jvr)v HyveXbiTTis 8a.va.Toi. 
 "IXtas ovv TO TTovrjua /J.ias x.o.piv fffTi jwatK6s' 
 
 atrap 'Odvffffel-ri nr/j/eXim? wp6(f>affis. Anth. P. ix. 166.
 
 312 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Women provoke Palladas, or perhaps he is only jesting. Still 
 one feels he jests too much and with tools of too sharp an edge. 
 The married grammarian comes in for several epigrams, generally as 
 the husband of a shrew. Perhaps this is the best of them : 
 
 An Iliad of wrath I read; 
 
 An Iliad of wrath I wed ; 
 
 Too much of wrath for one poor life, 
 
 Wrath of Achilles, wrath of wife 1 . 
 
 Woman is the anger of Zeus 2 given to man in wrath, to 
 balance the blessing of fire 3 . Zeus himself has a sad life of it 
 with Hera, and has had to kick her out of heaven more than once ; 
 Homer tells us that. 
 
 One more epigram and we can leave that wearisome Iliad-. 
 
 Achilles' wrath, to me the direful spring 
 Of beggary, I a poor grammarian sing. 
 Ah! would that wrath, ere I starvation knew 
 Had with those other Danaans slain me too: 
 That Helen and Briseis both might be 
 Rapt from their lords, I came to beggaiy 4 . 
 
 A non sequitur, but what of that? There is many a non sequitur in 
 misery. 
 
 Before passing on to his more general reflexions on life, it may 
 be well to give a few instances of his humour when he is in a lighter 
 mood. Even here he does not lack a certain pungency, nearer 
 perhaps to Martial than to the Greeks of the earlier days when 
 epigrams were at their best. 
 
 1 ~M.rjvi.v ov\ofdv7)v yafJLerrjv 6 rclXas 
 
 Kal irapa. rrjs rt^y'")* nfyiSos dpdyitej>os. 
 U/JLOI eyit) TroXifytTjcis, ?x wv Tpix6\uTov dvdyKtjv, 
 
 Anth. P. ix. 168. 
 
 2 Anth. P. ix. 165. 
 
 3 Anth. P. ix. 167. Of. also x. 55 and 56 on the woman question and note 
 the almost brutal bitterness of the line ei ffJxppuv ecrrt yvv-t) rts oXw?. 
 
 4 M.TJVIS 'AxtXX-Jjoj Kal e/jioi irpb<pa<ns 
 
 (We Se ffvv AavaoTs ^e Karfarave /uijm eKfivi), 
 
 irplv xtt^fros Xtyuds ypafj./j.ariKrjs oXe'trei. 
 dXX' lv' d<f>ap-ird^r) Epiffrjtda irplv 'Aya/jL^/jtvuv 
 
 TTIV 'EX^'iyi' 5' 6 Ildpis irruxbs tyu yev6ni)v. 
 
 Anth. P. ix. 169.
 
 Palladas 313 
 
 I chid my belly for foul treason, 
 And made it list to words of reason ; 
 Belly below and mind atop 
 Why can't their foolish wrestling stop 1 ? 
 
 A happy thought, not ill put perhaps, but very far from the high- 
 water-mark of Greek poetry. It lacks grace and shews the heavy 
 hand of the versifier. Here is another rather neater. 
 
 Daphne the snub-nosed Memphis danced, 
 
 And Niobe danced he; 
 A stock indeed his Daphne was, 
 
 A stone his Niobe 2 . 
 
 The joke was however common property, such as it was. The 
 following has a little more originality. 
 
 So lazy is Pantaenetus that he 
 
 In fever prayed he never more might rise; 
 
 He bettered, though, and "Thence we all may see 
 "In Heaven's deaf ears," he vows, "no succour lies 3 ." 
 
 He looks out on life, takes a broad survey of it its starving 
 teachers, rich churls, villain rulers, successful murderers 4 and 
 quarrelsome wives its freaks, its topsy-turveydoms and general 
 irrationality, and his conclusion is irritation, disgust and un- 
 happiness. The only power worth considering is Chance or 
 Fortune, a feminine personification with every feminine vice as 
 he loves to emphasize. 
 
 yrjSiiv a.va.iff'xyvTov ffTt/Sapois ^ff'xyv 
 fftoMppofftivy KoXdffas frrepov dpya\toi>. 
 
 et yap x w "rbv v v v fTiKel/jLevov vif/bOi yaffrp6s, 
 TrtSs fjii) viKTr)ff(i) Tr]v vTroTaffffo/j.vr)i> ; 
 
 Anth. P. ix. 170. 
 
 (pvr]i> /ecu io/iji' wpxri 
 ws ti\ti>os Ad<f>vr)t>, ws 
 
 ib. xi. 255. 
 
 3 OCrws lar dpybs HavTalveTos, ware irvptl-as 
 
 /j.T)Ktr' dvaffrffvai Travrbs (Seiro 0eov. 
 Kal vvv OVK iOeKwv fj.kv eyeiperai, ec d oi avrtij 
 K(i)(f>a. dtdv ddlKuv oUara /ie/x06/tfj'os. 
 
 ib. xi. 311. 
 
 4 Anth. P. x. 53, If murderers thrive well ! Zeus rules, and he would have 
 murdered Kronos, had Kronos beqn a mortal. But cf. ix. 378, a murderer saved 
 by Serapis from a falling wall for the gibbet.
 
 314 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Nor rhyme nor reason tyrant Fortune knows; 
 
 Mere random whims dispose her vagrant course; 
 Bad men she leans to and the good o'erthrows 
 
 The more to flaunt the might of senseless force 1 . 
 
 Our life's a slave that runs away, 
 
 And Fortune is a courtesan ; 
 We needs must laugh to see their play, 
 Or else must weep to mark alway 
 
 The worthless is the happier man 2 . 
 
 Life is the toy of Fortune, and can tell 
 
 Of piteous change; now all goes ill, now well; 
 
 Some like a ball come down and then go up, 
 And some have fallen from the clouds to hell 3 . 
 
 Life is a dangerous voyage; storm-winds fling us 
 Where worse than shipwrecked mariners we lie; 
 
 Chance, the one pilot of man's life, will bring us 
 Chance knoweth where as o'er the seas we fly. 
 
 Some meet good weather ; others ill have found ; 
 
 All make the common anchorage underground 4 . 
 
 And if all these cheerful statements are true ? What can a man 
 do in a world where forethought is waste of time ? 
 
 Get riches, and what then? the coffin's lid 
 The company of thy coffer will forbid ; 
 
 Oi> \6yov ov v6/j.ov ol8f Ti^x 7 
 
 TO?S iOiois dX6">ws pevfJMai ffvpofj^vi]. 
 
 IM\\OV rails ddiKOifft ptirei, fj-ifffi ot oiKaiovs, 
 us fTriSeiKisvfdvT) TTJV &\oyov dvvafj.iv. 
 
 Anth. P. x. 62. 
 
 2 *A.v jj.7] ye\ufjLev rbv j3iov TOV 
 Ti^x 7 ? 1 ' T ir6pvi)s pevu.aff(.v Kivov/J^vr 
 6dvv7]v eavrols irpo^fvovfjiev iravrorf 
 dvaiovs op&VTes evrvxcTTtpovs. 
 
 ib. 87. 
 
 3 Haiyviov tart Ti/x^s fj.cp6Tr<i)v fiios, oiKTp6s, dX-^ 
 
 irXoi/roi> Kai irevirjs fj.fffff66i pe/Mfiofjifvos. 
 Kal TOUS IJL^I> Kardyovaa ird\iv ff(paiprjSov deipei, 
 roi/s 5' diro TU>V ve^eXwf et's 'Aidijv Kardyei. 
 
 ib. 80. 
 
 nXoOs ff<f>a\tpos -rb rjv' x f 'M a ^A te ' /0 ' 7p ev airr<j> 
 TroXXdKi vavqy&v Trraio/uec olxTpdrepa' 
 
 TT)V dt Ti/x 7 ? 1 ' fiibTOto Kvftfpvf}Teipav ^x VTt ^< 
 wj tvl TOV irf\dyovs dfJuftifiaiXoi Tr\eoft,fv' 
 
 ol fjv ^TT' finr\oir]v, ol 5' l/j.ira\iv dXX' d'/ia Trdvr 
 els tva. rbv /card yijs opfj.ov direpx6/j.e6a. 
 
 ib. 65.
 
 Palladas 315 
 
 Add wealth and time subtract; and what remains? 
 Life not an hour the longer for thy pains 1 . 
 
 Is it not the same lesson that we learn from Omar ? 
 
 Some for the glories of this world and some 
 Sigh for the prophet's Paradise to come ; 
 
 Ah ! take the cash and let the credit go, 
 Nor heed the rumble of the distant drum. 
 
 Taking the cash and letting the credit go commonly means eating 
 and drinking, especially drinking, and so Palladas teaches. 
 
 Eat thou and drink, and shut thine eyes to woe; 
 Belike the dead no stomach-ache will know; 
 Twelve children buried, Homer lets us see, 
 Her appetite was left to Niobe 2 . 
 
 Why toil in vain and strive against the star 
 
 That marked your birth with its controlling presence; 
 
 Give way and quarrel not with things that are 
 Accept your fate in silent acquiescence 
 
 Or rather catch at joy ; be your employment 
 
 To steal a march on Fate and taste enjoyment 3 . 
 
 If this course of life is a failure, there is always death to fall 
 back on, and once death is passed there is no sorrow left 4 . 
 
 Living in Alexandria Palladas must have been in constant 
 contact with Christians and such Christians ! Riotous monks and 
 courtier bishops were not the best preachers of the faith, but one 
 
 1 HXovreis, Kal ri TO \OLTTOV; aTrepx&/J.evos, fiera ffavrov 
 
 rbv TT\OVTOV fftipeis, els ffop&v e\K6fJ.fvos ; 
 rbv TT\OVTOV ffvvdyets 8a.ira.vQiv xp^ "' ov dvvaffcu 5e 
 fays crupevffai /j^rpa irepifffforepa. 
 
 Anth. P. 60. 
 The triple pun of the Greek I am afraid I have failed to represent. 
 
 2 "Effete Trive fjLfiaas tirl trevdecnv ov yap 
 
 yaffrepl irevdrjffai veKpbv "Q/j.r)pos %<pT). 
 Kal yap 6/j.ov 6dif/a<rai> 6\wX6rct 5t65e/ca reKva 
 ffirov /jLvriffafM^VTrjv TT]v Ni6j37jv irapdyei. 
 
 ib. 47. 
 The reference is to the Iliad xxiv. G02 ^16^77 tariff O.TO ffirov. 
 
 3 TtVre /j.aTt]v avOpuire Travels Kal wdvra rapdaffets 
 
 8ov\ev<i)v rip Kara, TTJV yveau> ; 
 aavrbv &(f>es, rip 8aifj.ovi (J.TJ <f>i\ot>e[Kei' 
 CTTJV Se TVXf)v crrepyuv, r)crvxiav dydtra. 
 /j.a\\ov eV etLKfipofftivrjv d /3tafeo, Kal irapa. 
 et Svvarbv ^VXTI" T^f/wop/bnff fj.fr6.yeiv. 
 
 ib. 77. 
 4 Anth. P. x. 59.
 
 316 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 feels here and there in his work a hint of some knowledge of 
 Christianity. For example; everything that lives can feel anger, 
 and may not I with an angry word requite him who does me 
 an ill deed 1 ? Again, he hints at possibilities after death, and 
 his language, though it may be called vague, seems to recall 
 Christian eschatology. Body, suffering of soul, Hades, burden, 
 destiny, fetters and tortures ; and then freed from the body to face 
 an eternal God <eiryei Trpos Otov aOdvarov 2 . God he takes to be a 
 philosopher, not promptly angered by blasphemy, but taking his 
 time to prepare punishment for bad and tiresome men. What again 
 does this mean? 
 
 Weep not, nor faint: how short a life we know! 
 
 Short beside that to be, there's no denial; 
 Till the worm breed and to the grave you go, 
 
 Break not your spirit, while as yet on trial 3 . 
 
 Add to these indications his very plain-spoken epigram on the 
 monks. We read of communities of them in the Thebaid two or 
 three thousand strong. Well may he ask, "If solitaries (ftova^ot), 
 why so many? So many, how solitaries 4 ?" 
 
 In 391 the Christians led by the Archbishop and the Governor 
 destroyed the Serapeum at Alexandria, the most famous and sacred 
 of temples 5 . The tables were turned. Palladas has one or two 
 mysterious epigrams on the superlative folly of not being friendly 
 with the favourites of God, which of course may be taken in more 
 ways than one, but this on seeing an image of Hercules thrown out 
 somewhere is noteworthy and unmistakable. 
 
 On the cross-roads I saw Jove's brazen son, 
 That once had worship but his day seems done; 
 "Ah! guardian god!" in bitter rage I say, 
 "So long unconquered thou art fall'n to-day!" 
 
 1 Anth. P. x. 49. 2 Anth. P. x. 88. 
 
 3 'Piirre yhovs, ftrj Kd/ju>f, irbaov xpbvov (V0d5e /MfjLi>ui>, 
 
 (is irpbs eKfivov o\ov TOV fjierd TO.VTO. fiiov. 
 irplv roivw ffK<J}\7)Ka paXetv Ttfyi/3ois re pi<(>iji>ai, 
 fj.i} Sa/udffjs ij'i'XT)'' & v ^ Tt Kpivo/J.^vt]v. 
 
 Anth. P. x. 78. 
 
 4 Anth. P. xi. 384. The references to Judgment to come might be Neo- 
 Platonic. 
 
 5 See Eufinus, E. H. ii. 2224 ; Socr. v. 16, 17. On the threatening fall of 
 paganism in Egypt, the Latin translation of Hermes Trismegistus (ed. Bipont. 
 Apul. vol. ii. pp. 307 309) may be consulted.
 
 Palladas 317 
 
 By night he Ccime to me and smiled, "My friend! 
 "Know, to the tempest ev'n a god must bend 1 ." 
 
 Enough commentary is supplied by the epigram on the Olympian 
 dwellers at Marina's house who have turned Christian and need 
 fear no melting-pot or bellows 2 . Gods were melted down and 
 became very common articles in those days, as an epigram shews, 
 the sense of which is clear though the text is corrupt. 
 
 A smith, a most discerning man, 
 Turns Love into a frying-pan. 
 Why 'most discerning,' you inquire? 
 How close are frying-pan and fire ! 
 
 With gods turning into pots and pans, men may well bow to the 
 tempest, but it will hardly make them happy to do so. When 
 Palladas sees the muddle of life, his conclusion is "hatred of every- 
 thing," fuo-w TO. Travra, and, whether he refer to a Greek or a 
 Christian Providence, he sums all up so: 
 
 If care will avail you, then care and prepare ; 
 But why care for yourself though, if Providence care? 
 Yet 'tis Providence makes you or care or forbear, 
 For Providence cares that you've cares and to spare 3 . 
 
 His one enthusiasm was oddly enough for a woman. Hypatia, 
 the more famous daughter of the philosopher Theon, was one of the 
 most conspicuous figures in Alexandria. A Platonist of the school 
 of Plotinus, she lectured publicly, and pupils gathered from every 
 quarter. She mingled freely with the rulers, and for her splendid 
 dignity all men respected and feared her. She was a great friend 
 of Orestes the prefect, and in Church circles they said she kept him 
 from making friends with Cyril the bishop. Some hot-heads, led 
 by one Peter, a reader, conspired, watched for her, tore her from her 
 chariot and dragged her into the Church called the Caesareum. They 
 
 1 T6v At6s tv -TpioSouriv e0a.6fjia.ira. x a ^ Kfov via, 
 
 rbv irplv ev etf^wXats vvv irapapnrT6/j,evoi>. 
 oxO'no'as 5' ap' Henrov 'AXet'/caKe 
 /j.-r]5eTro6' ijTrriGeis, ffrj/J.fpov ^fer 
 
 Anth. P. ix. 441. 
 
 i rb fj.e\eii> Svvarai n, pepi/tva. Kal /ueA^rw ffoi. 
 fi 8 /Ji4\ei Trfpi ffov Sai/j.ovi, crol T'L yuAet ; 
 re fjitpiftv/ifffis Slx.a dai/movos, oflr' aft,{\riffeis' 
 dXX' tva, ffoi TI /uA?7, flcu'/xoft TOVTO /xeXei. 
 
 ib. x. 34.
 
 318 Life and Letters in the Fourth 
 
 stripped her of her raiment, and did her to death with potsherds, 
 and then after tearing her limb from limb they picked up the 
 fragments and burnt them. This, says the historian whom I have 
 been paraphrasing, brought no small shame on Cyril and the 
 Church of Alexandria, for murders and fights and the like are 
 utterly alien to such as have the mind of Christ 1 . This was in 
 415 and this is the only fixed date we have in Palladas' life. 
 "When I see thee," he says to her, "I worship thee and thy 
 discourses, seeing that the home of the maiden is with the stars. 
 For thy practice is with heaven, holy Hypatia, beauty of language, 
 pure star of philosophy' 2 ." 
 
 Deaths like this shocked the Christian conscience and may well 
 have deepened in men like Palladas the feeling that Chance and 
 brute Unreason ruled the world. One is tempted to wonder whether 
 she was in his mind when he wrote 
 
 We are but fattened as men fatten swine, 
 Death the one guest that on us all shall dine : 
 Now this, now that, as he may list, he slays, 
 And never recks of reason or design 3 . 
 
 Hypatia's death however was not needed to shew mankind that 
 the old order was dead. Palladas knew it and it added to his load 
 of bitterness. We Greeks, he says, are men already burnt upon the 
 funeral pyre: ours are the buried hopes of dead men, for all the 
 world is upside down to-day 4 . Elsewhere he laments 
 
 O men of Hellas, but that men still deem 
 Us living, we are dead. Alive we seem, 
 But, lit on such misfortune, if we live, 
 Or seem, life dead, to live 'tis but a dream 5 . 
 
 1 Socrates vii. 15. 
 
 * "Orav /SX^irw ere irpoffKwCi Kal rovs \6yovs, 
 TTJS irapOevov TOV olKov dffrpt^ov fi\eiruv. 
 efs ovpavbv yap fffri <rov TO. trpdy/JLara, 
 'Yiraria ae/j.vrj, TWV \6ywv ev/j.op<f>ia, 
 S-xpo-vrov affrpov rrjs ffoQrjs TraiSe&rews. 
 
 Anth. P. ix. 400. 
 I sometimes wonder whether ix. 508 may not also be addressed to Hypatia. 
 
 3 Ilaj'res rtf Oavdrtf) Trjpov/j.e8a Kal rp06/ueo'#a 
 us dyt\r) -)(oipuv a<pa.'fo[j.tv<i)v dXdyws. 
 
 ib. x. 85. 
 4 Anth. P. x. 90. 
 
 5 t'Apa /trjt Bavorres T SOKCIV u>/J.ev /JLOVOV 
 "EXXiyves avSpej avp.<pop^. ireirruKOTes' 
 ovfipov eiKafrovTcs elvai rbv [3iov, 
 fl wfJiev rjfjLets TOV fiiov TtOvrjKoros. 
 
 ib. x. 82.
 
 Palladas 319 
 
 Palladas in spirit is the last of the heathen. He had ceased to 
 take joy in the old, he hated the new. Life was all wrong and the 
 Greek world was infinitely weary. Heathen literature might throw 
 out branches still here and there, as a tree will throw out branches 
 though its roots are not healthy. Literature was at its last. The 
 old religion was worse than dead; it was discovered for an idle 
 thing. Philosophy 1 , scepticism and atheism gave no comfort but 
 proved an apple of Sodom, and heathenism was in a word death in 
 life 2 . There were, as Palladas says, those who kept up a semblance 
 of life, pretended to be alive, dreamt they lived, but men who 
 thought and men who saw knew they were dead. The day of old 
 Hellas was done. Her inheritance passed to the Church, and part 
 was incorporated in the common life of Europe and part wrapped up 
 in a napkin till the Renaissance. Nothing of value is permanently 
 lost, and it is not very necessary to bewail the lost Hellenism. The 
 attempt to revive it, without heeding the ten centuries that had 
 passed, was unhappy, for the world can never be heathen again, and 
 all that was essential and permanent in the mind of the Greek still 
 lives. But none the less, if we need not sorrow over Hellenism, 
 they at least may claim compassion who could conceive of no other 
 light of life, and when it failed found themselves in the horror of 
 thick darkness. 
 
 1 Even before he became a Christian, Synesius admitted that Philosophy 
 was in danger of dying out, unless supported by the Emperor's example; tirei 
 vvv ye, wj r)/Jit\r)TCU, iciriwos airoa'^fivai, Kal fjLera, fMKpbv oi)5' /JL.irvpfVfjia \eiirecr6cu 
 flov\ofj.evois evavffai, though, of course, Philosophy will always nourish in heaven 
 (de Refino, 22). 
 
 2 Probably the acme of bitterness and horror is reached in the epigram 
 A nth. P. x. 45. " It is good to know the truth for the truth " perhaps, but is it 
 all the truth ?
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 SYNESIUS 
 
 oiKtlov aXijdfia 0eo>, w 8ia irdvTdov dvciLTios flvat /3ouAo/Aeu. 
 
 Ep. 105, 1488 A 
 
 EVERY reader of Pindar and Herodotus remembers Battus the 
 stammerer, and how he founded the Dorian colony Gyrene, and 
 established there a dynasty to grow rich on the products of a land 
 with three seasons and to win chariot-races at the Pythian games. 
 Already we can see the characteristic features of the land which are 
 permanent in its history. A land of flocks and herds, of wheat and 
 wine, of roses and silphium, a land of hunting, and above all a land 
 of horses. Pindar shews us the nymph Gyrene "as she struggled 
 alone, without spear, with a terrible lion," and Nonnus, the last 
 great poet of the Greeks, once more calls her ''the slayer of lions." 
 As for the horses, Herodotus says, rightly or wrongly, that it was 
 from the Libyans of this region that the Greeks adopted the four- 
 horse chariot, and Callimachus, her great poet (cited by Strabo), 
 calls his country "blest in her steeds" (emWou Trarpt'Sos). "Gyrene 
 grew great," says Strabo (c. 837), writing about the beginning of our 
 era, "by the virtue of her land; for it is the best of all lands in 
 breeding horses and is blest in its fruits." Again in Synesius it is 
 the same. In his youth he was scolded for "being mad for arms 
 and mad for horses beyond what was fitting," and when he is to be 
 made bishop he sighs to think that ""his dear dogs will never go 
 a-hunting more." Modern travellers tell us of pictures of hunting 
 scenes still preserved in the monuments of Gyrene and of the 
 abundant opportunities for the chase the country still offers. 
 
 The dynasty of Battus and Arkesilas passed away, and Greek 
 democracy ran its course in Gyrene. Wars with Carthaginians and 
 Persians ended with Persian control. Taught by experience, the
 
 Synesius 321 
 
 Cyrenians yielded without a blow to Alexander, and under his 
 successors Gyrene belonged to Egypt a doubtful blessing to the 
 Ptolemies, for it was too far away to become one with Egypt and so 
 near as to be a splendid vantage-ground for rebel and" pretender. 
 Prof. Mahaffy says it was a sort of Ireland to Egypt. Ptolemy 
 Apion left the land by will to the Romans in 96 B.C. Under 
 Augustus it was a senatorial province a sure sign of its peace- 
 fulness. 
 
 Now another aspect of Cyrenian life comes before us. As in 
 Egypt, so in Gyrene, the Ptolemies had deliberately encouraged the 
 settlement of large numbers of Jews who might develope commerce 
 and begin denationalization In the New Testament we find the 
 Cyrenian Jews no inconsiderable element of the Dispersion and 
 strongly represented at Jerusalem, where they shared a synagogue 
 with the Alexandrians. It was "a man of Gyrene" who carried the 
 Cross. Josephus now and again refers to his countrymen at Gyrene, 
 recording among other things how they got a charter permitting 
 them to send freely their "sacred money" to the Temple. But the 
 most striking episode in the Roman history of Gyrene was the 
 rising of the Jews against Trajan, when they killed, it is said, two 
 hundred thousand Gentiles. As the Roman forces would probably 
 exact ample vengeance for those thus butchered, the loss in popu- 
 lation to Gyrene must have been enormous. Whether the land 
 suffered with the rest of the Roman Empire from the great plague, 
 which "filled the world" under Marcus Aurelius, we are not told. 
 In any case the depopulation from which the Empire was universally 
 suffering (Jews excepted) was probably helped forward by this out- 
 break, and all hope of recovery lost. 
 
 Ammianus, speaking of the province in his day, mentions Gyrene 
 first in his list of towns "an ancient city though now deserted, 
 which the Spartan Battus founded." The last blow to the town 
 had been dealt when Apollonia, in Strabo's times its port, was made 
 independent. The haven Phycus, of which Synesius often speaks, 
 and where his brother lived, was insignificant, and with the trade 
 the prosperity passed away. "Gyrene," says Synesius, "a Greek 
 city, with an ancient and honourable name, hymned a hundred 
 times by the wise of old; but now she is poor and downcast, a 
 great ruin in need of the Emperor's aid, if her fortune is to be at 
 all worthy of her ancient history" (de Regno c. 2). 
 
 That ancient history, ap^aioXoyt'a, and the hymns of the wise 
 were part of the consciousness of this last great Cyrenian. Pindar's 
 a 21
 
 322 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 poetry was only part of the retrospect. Callimachus and his 
 successor at the Museum, the great geographer Eratosthenes, were 
 both Cyrenians, and among philosophers Carneades, the founder of 
 the Third Academy, and Aristippus, who gave his country's name 
 to the Cyrenaic school 1 . The last two, curiously enough, alone are 
 mentioned by Synesius "the famous land of Gyrene was once 
 inhabited by a Carneades and an Aristippus, but now by a John 
 and a Julius " (Ep. 50). But the peculiar pride of Synesius was in 
 his ancestry "from Eurysthenes who led the Dorians to Sparta 
 down to my father my pedigree is carved on the public monuments" 
 (xvpfieo-iv Ep. 57, 1393 B). Elsewhere he goes still further back 
 "the public monuments of Gyrene shew the succession from Herakles 
 to me" (Catastasis i. 1572 B). It was no empty boast. On the 
 eve of battle he writes to his brother, "I am a Laconian by descent 
 and I know the message the magistrates sent Leonidas, 'Let them 
 fight as if to die and they will not die'" (Ep. 113). Elsewhere he 
 prays that such glory (KW$OS) may be given to his deeds as will befit 
 the ancient fame of Gyrene and of Sparta (Hymn 5). 
 
 Two hundred and fifty years intervene between the Jewish 
 revolt and Synesius' birth, during which we hear but little of 
 Gyrene. Then for some fifteen years we know the land as never 
 before, and after that we only hear now and again of its gradual 
 downfall 2 . In 616 Chosroes invaded it and in 647 the Arabs. Its 
 conquest by the latter followed that of Egypt as an immediate 
 consequence, and to secure it the Greek race and Greek civilization 
 were blotted out in accordance with Saracen policy. To-day it is 
 occupied by strolling Arabs. 
 
 The writings of Synesius are extremely interesting. "A man 
 of many and wandering thoughts," to use Mrs Browning's description 
 of him 3 , whatever he may be thinking alxmt at the moment, he can 
 express with ease and with charm. It will hardly be expected that 
 such a man can be original or profound, but after all it is a great 
 deal if a writer is delightful. Yet he is more than that. To 
 
 1 We may also count Sabellius here. Socrates (i. 5, 2) calls him a "Libyan." 
 On the other side, diametrically opposed to him, we may reckon Arius' two loyal 
 bishops, Theonas of Marmarica, and Secundus of Ptolemais, Synesius' future 
 see (Socr. i. 9, 4). 
 
 2 Procopius tells of Justinian's attempts at restoration. He repaired the 
 aqueducts of Ptolemais and fortified two monasteries to the south (the expres- 
 sion recalls Synesius' statement of his home's situation) to check the barbarian 
 inroads. 
 
 3 Is it Sophocles in her mind, 0. T. 67 jroXXds 65oi>s eX0<Wa <j>pot>Ti6os
 
 Synesius 323 
 
 the historical student he is valuable on several grounds for the 
 picture he gives of the Empire battling with its Goths within and 
 more savage barbarians without 1 , for the insight his letters allow 
 into the daily life of a Roman province, its pleasures, scandals, 
 anxieties and dangers, travel, sea-faring, business and agriculture, 
 for his illustration of the process by which Neo-Platonism and 
 Christianity ran into each other, for hints on the difficulties of a 
 modest bishop and for one more example, the happiest of all, of the 
 education and literary taste of his age. On all of these points a 
 good deal might be said, but I shall in general confine myself to the 
 first three, grouping what I shall have to say mainly, but not 
 rigorously, according to the chronology of his life. 
 
 Synesius was born somewhere between or near the years 365 
 and 370. As neither father nor mother is mentioned as alive in 
 any of his writings, it is assumed that they died when he was still 
 young, leaving him and his sister Stratonice perhaps to the care 
 of an elder brother Euoptius, for whom Synesius had always the 
 deepest regard and affection. His boyhood, as we have seen, was a 
 thoroughly healthy one, given over to arms and horses to hunting 
 in fact, the Macedonian ideal as opposed to Greek athletics. 
 Athletes were in poor repute now, and Porphyry set them down 
 among the stupid classes. Leisure and a "waveless" calm of dis- 
 position were Synesius' ideals from boyhood (Ep. 57, 1388 A), but 
 never mere laziness or unprofitable inertia. A life without disturb- 
 ance was needful for the intercourse of the soul with God. It 
 should be distinctly understood from the outset that this was 
 throughout his idea of religion or philosophy, for with him they 
 are one. Confusion will be avoided if we remember that both 
 before and after becoming a Christian he uses the language of 
 Neo-Platonism almost invariably in speaking of serious things. 
 
 He went to Alexandria to study philosophy under Hypatia, to 
 whom he was devoted ever after. Nor was she the only friend he 
 made there, for to others of her pupils and the members of her 
 circle he became warmly attached. To Herculian he writes that 
 there is a special bond in the fact that "we both saw with our own 
 eyes and heard with our own ears the true exponent of the mysteries 
 
 1 It should be remarked how little he is conscious of the Western half of the 
 Empire few Greeks indeed were e.g. he did not know that the Emperor 
 Honoring was consul in 404 (Ep. 133), and though he outlived the event he gives 
 no hint of having heard of the capture of Borne by the Goths in 410. He must 
 however have known of it. 
 
 212
 
 324 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 of philosophy" (Ep. 137). He also made the acquaintance of 
 another circle, which was Christian and with which his relations 
 were eventually to be closer. But perhaps Hypatia still came first. 
 To her he sent his books, to have her approval before they were 
 published (Ep. 154), and she alone could tempt him to leave his 
 native Libya, where he was born and where his fathers' graves were 
 still in honour (Ep. 124), though he did not leave it even for her. 
 
 From Alexandria he returned home, and very soon (about 397) 
 was sent to Constantinople on an embassy to the Emperor to procure 
 some remission of taxation for the "poor and downcast" Cyrene. 
 His birth, his position as a country gentleman, and his brilliance 
 would explain the selection of so young a man. A greater contrast 
 than that between Cyrene and Constantinople could hardly be 
 imagined. Here, if anywhere, leisure of mind should have been 
 impossible. 
 
 In 330 Constantino had founded his new Rome on the Bosporus 
 with the enforced aid of "the wealth, the labour and all that yet 
 remained of the genius of obedient millions." Where the art of the 
 day failed, antiquity supplied its place, and works of art were 
 removed from the cities of Greece and Asia to adorn the capital 
 and the magnificent buildings that studded its two thousand acres. 
 But it did not depend on ancient art alone ; it was a city of blazing 
 splendours, splendours of Emperor and bishop and minister. But 
 more interesting to a man of Synesius' quick mind must have been 
 the great personages of the city the eunuch Prime Minister 
 Eutropius, whose picture has been drawn for ever by Claudian ; the 
 Gothic captain Gainas, sometime the agent of Stilicho in the murder 
 of Rufinus ; the Frank or half-Frank Empress Eudoxia, gorgeous in 
 her toilets and violent in her hatreds ; Aurelian, the leader of the 
 patriot or at least anti-Gothic party, a man unlike some of his 
 rivals in being able to mention a father who had merited and 
 attained distinction ; the new metropolitan (398), the saintly and 
 ascetic Chrysostom, greatest of preachers and most honourable 
 of bishops ; the infamous opponent of Aurelian, whoever the man 
 may have been whom Synesius calls "Typhos"; and last and least 
 significant of all the Emperor, the dull, heavy-eyed and "bovine" 
 Arcadius. 
 
 Synesius attached himself to the party of Aurelian, but three 
 years elapsed before he secured the end for which he came "three 
 evil years lost to my life!" In the meantime he saw and bore his
 
 Synesius 325 
 
 part in a series of strange movements the fall of Eutropius 1 before 
 the hatred of Gainas and Eudoxia, the revolt of Tribigild sustained 
 if not suggested by his countryman Gainas, the subsequent attempt 
 of Gainas on the capital, the exile of Aurelian brought about by 
 Gainas and his restoration after the expulsion, defeat and death of 
 the Goth, and perhaps the overture of the ruin of Chrysostom begun 
 by Theophilus the bishop of Alexandria. Into all these events we 
 need not go, but Synesius' famous speech and his mysterious book 
 on Providence in history call for our attention. 
 
 The speech was delivered in 399 before the Emperor, when 
 Aurelian was Praetorian Prefect. Tribigild had already revolted 
 in Phrygia or was on the point of doing so, while Gainas was still 
 supposed to be acting against him for the Government. 
 
 The speech itself is pronounced by Volkmann to rank with the 
 best public speeches of the orators and rhetoricians of the period, 
 and another critic, Krabinger, calls it his best work. But what 
 most impresses the reader is not its ease or its grace, but its extra- 
 ordinary courage. Synesius himself said of it some years later that 
 he had harangued the Emperor with more boldness than any Greek 
 had ever done before, and even if the speech was touched up in 
 places by him before publication, it is clear that, if it at all represents 
 what he said his boast is well founded 2 . 
 
 Is there a hearing, he asks, for philosophy, for plain, honest 
 speech without flattery? If there is, he will discuss kingship. 
 Who is the true king? (The Greek word used for Emperor is 
 ySao-tXevs, and odd as it may seem is echoed in the rex and regius 
 of Symmachus 3 . This of itself shews how times had changed.) 
 The true king is he who lives for his people's good, who realizes his 
 responsibility as the representative, in some sort, of Divine pro- 
 vidence, who grounds his character on piety and bids mind overthrow 
 "the democracy of the passions" and be king within him, who will 
 
 1 This and the revolt of Tribigild may also be read in Claudian's two books 
 against Eutropius, "a very elegant and spirited satire, which would be more 
 valuable in an historical light if the invective were less vague and more tem- 
 perate" says Gibbon. But at least some of the actors are named. 
 
 2 A number of points of contact with Claudian \iv. Cons. Hon.) and Julian 
 (Or. ii. 86, etc.) may be noted in this speech. Perhaps something is owed by 
 them all, directly or indirectly, to the Cyropaedeia, and by Synesius a little to 
 Dio's Orations on Kingship. Julian more than the others bids the Emperor 
 live in close relations with the divine. 
 
 3 Claudian goes further nunc Brutus amaret vivere sub regno (Paneg. Manl. 
 Theod. 163, Justice herself is speaking), and nunquam libertas gratior extat quam 
 sub rege pio (Cons. Stil. iii. 114), the last a sentiment anyone may endorse who 
 has lived on the borders of a great republic.
 
 326 Life and Letters in tJie Fourth Century 
 
 be a man among men and count love the surest foundation for a 
 kingdom. From the ideal he turns to the actual and finds it 
 wanting. In many directions the Empire is threatened. 
 
 The conceptions of kingship have been orientalized (c. 10) 1 . 
 "Nothing has done the Empire so much harm as the pomp and 
 circumstance with which they surround the king as if with hierurgy 
 and mystery." "The fear, that you may become men if you are 
 frequently seen, keeps you close prisoners, besieged by yourselves, 
 neither seeing nor hearing anything that may develop practical 
 sense, with no pleasures but those of the body and of those the 
 most sensual, such as touch and taste give, living in fact the life 
 of a mollusc. So long as you disdain manhood, you can never 
 reach the perfection of manhood." The courtiers are "micro- 
 cephalous," and the stupider, the better courtiers. The Emperors 
 "are all purple and all gold, covered with gems from barbarian 
 mountain and sea, shod with them, girt with them, hung with them, 
 brooched with them, couched on them 2 ." They are made a spectacle 
 of all hues and colours, like peacocks, and have brought on them- 
 selves "the Homeric curse a coat of stone." The common earth 
 must be sprinkled with gold dust for their tread. Like lizards which 
 will only peep out now and then in the sunshine, "you keep to 
 your chambers for fear men should find you out to be men." The 
 contrast between the real and the ideal is at least vivid enough. 
 
 The second great danger to the Empire is the enormous number 
 of Goths in the army. They are untrustworthy and cannot be 
 expected to be Roman in feeling. "Themis herself, the goddess of 
 counsel, and the god of war I think must veil their faces, when the 
 man in skins leads the men in cloaks, and when one of them doffs 
 the fleece, dons the toga and takes counsel with the Roman magis- 
 trates about affairs, sitting conspicuously beside the consul perhaps, 
 while the proper people sit below him. And when they are outside 
 the council-chamber, it is not long before they are back into the 
 sheepskins 3 and laughing at the toga among their clansmen, because, 
 they say, it does not let you handle your sword easily" (c. 15). 
 Gothic soldiers and generals in the army, Gothic slaves in the 
 houses how long will it be before there is an uprising another 
 Spartacus? No, let none but Romans serve in the army, turn out 
 
 1 So Lactantius, M. P. 21. 
 
 2 So Claudian, iv. Cons. Hon. 585 S. asperat Indus velamenta lapis and so 
 forth, but in admiration. 
 
 3 Cf. Claudian on Alaric's council, b. Get. 481 crinigeri sedere patres, pellita 
 Getarum curia.
 
 Synesius 327 
 
 the Goths and make them helots. He alone can have peace who is 
 strong enough to injure the man who would harm him 1 . 
 
 Soldiers and money-lenders oppress the people. Taxes wear 
 them out, and who can help them but the king? The provincial 
 governors are chosen not for their merits but for their wealth. A 
 man raises money somehow, buys a governorship, and looks to repay 
 himself. Hence the governor's residence is a shop for the selling of 
 
 justice (TO ap^eiov BLKOJV TraiXrjTijpiov C. 21) 2 . 
 
 The remedy for everything lies with poor Arcadius. He must 
 develop his soul with philosophy, his body with martial exercises. 
 His troops must know him in person and not merely from his 
 picture. He must remit taxation in response to embassies from his 
 cities. He must get rid of flatterers and choose wise and experienced 
 advisers (Aurelian and his friends no doubt), and with their aid rise 
 to be an incarnate Providence. 
 
 Synesius had recognized the bad symptoms no difficult task 
 but the disease was deeper than he saw. The fault did not lie with 
 Arcadius, who was the creature of his environment. The easy 
 remedy of Synesius was therefore inadequate. Charming and fresh 
 as his speech was, it was too old-fashioned. It shews the old Greek 
 disdain for business and trade, and a thoroughly claustral ignorance 
 of the strength of human passions and the terrible vitality which 
 the parasites of a state always possess. Arcadius with a wave of 
 the hand is to do with the political world what Julian tried to do 
 
 with the religious iravra 8' IvaXXa. yevoiTO. 
 
 Events moved on, in spite of the speech. The prophecy about 
 the Goths came true. Gainas joined hands with Tribigild and came 
 near being master of Constantinople, but his plans mysteriously 
 miscarried. The story of it all is told by Synesius in his book on 
 Providence. 
 
 This is a strange work. "It is a tale of ancient Egypt. But 
 
 1 One may compare the last episode of Ammianus (xxxi. 16, 8) the 
 treacherous murder of all the Goths in Roman employ beyond the Taurus 
 by orders of a commander who had early news of the disaster of Adrianople 
 (378). "By this prudent plan being carried out without noise or delay, the 
 eastern provinces were rescued from great dangers," says the historian, with 
 a coolness that astonishes some of his readers. See Seeck, Untergang der Ant. 
 Welt, c. vi. "die Barbaren im Reich," esp. p. 407 notes. Hist. Aug. Claud. 9, 4 
 impletae barbaris servis Scythicisque cultoribus liomanae provinciae...nec ulla 
 fuit regio qnae Gotham servnm triumphali quodam servitio non haberet this 
 a century before Synesius was born. 
 
 2 Claudian in praising Stilicho is carried away and makes a strange revela- 
 tion; nee te gurgex corruptior aevi \ traxit ad exemplum, qui jam Jirmaverat 
 annis \ crimen et in legem rapiendi verterat usum (Cons. Stil. ii. 116).
 
 328 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 the Egyptians are a subtle people. So perhaps, tale as it is, it may 
 riddle something more than a tale, seeing it is Egyptian. But if it 
 is not a tale, but a sacred discourse, it may be better worth reading 
 and writing." It is at once a philosophic romance, a demonstration 
 of Providence, and an allegoric picture of the present. Taurus 
 king of Egypt has two sons, the good Osiris and the bad Typhos. 
 These represent Aurelian and his opponent, whom we only know 
 from here and so cannot name, and the story tells in effect the 
 events of 397-400 in Constantinople. Synesius himself appears in 
 it as a certain person with a "rustic" breeding in philosophy, an 
 admirer of Osiris and more "rustic" than ever when he fell, for he 
 held by his fallen friend. The first book was written at the time of 
 the events, and the second after the happy ending, and the whole, 
 the narrative of the fall and restoration of a minister, is to prove 
 the doctrine of Providence. 
 
 There is a providence in the fall of a sparrow, but it seems 
 strange to a modern reader that a matter of a minister is so 
 important as this. Yet Claudian avows he felt doubtful of 
 Providence till Rufinus' fall re-established his faith. A similar joy 
 shines in Symmachus' pages on the death of Maximinus "it is a 
 pleasure to live, one does not regret having been born" (Ep. x. 2). 
 All these discussions may be taken as indications of the deep im- 
 portance which the question of the origin of evil had in the thought 
 of the day. It is not, why has this bad minister been allowed such 
 power? but why have the many, of whom he is but one, been 
 tolerated by the Gods ? and, in fine, why is there evil at all in the 
 world ? Synesius explains things much as Porphyry does (de Abstin. 
 ii. 39, 40). Evil demons, says Porphyry, besides bringing plague 
 and drought, work through men's passions and produce wars and 
 factions, till (worst of all) men really believe all this misery and 
 confusion is due to the Best God a mistake actually shared by 
 some philosophers. As a matter of fact, Synesius explains, the 
 great and good Gods endow man with a certain amount of power 
 and set him to battle for himself, "a divine soul among demons," 
 and when his power is exhausted and a fresh start required by the 
 confusion of the whole fabric, they will intervene in due time, but 
 they must not be disturbed by man on petty pretexts. If men will 
 but accept this view, they will not think that the visitation of God 
 and the exercise of energy (ape-nys) conflict. 
 
 Gainas met a miserable end, and Aurelian returned and was 
 made consul, so Providence justified itself. One wonders where the
 
 Synesius 329 
 
 Emperor was throughout this story, for he is not mentioned. 
 Volkmann sees in this the author's prudence, Chassang (Histoire du 
 Roman, p. 295) the Emperor's insignificance, and to this latter view 
 I incline. In any case the conspicuous absence of Arcadius is some- 
 thing of a comment on the speech on kingship. There is no place 
 for him whatever in a story of his reign. There was hardly more 
 in the events themselves. 
 
 At last a happy decision was given to the case of Gyrene, and 
 Synesius was able to leave Constantinople, where he had made 
 many friends and found admirers for his prose and his verse. Their 
 opinion of him may be inferred from the great speech, which was 
 clearly the manifesto of the party. He with them had to face 
 serious risks in the evil days, and so acute was his peril at one time 
 that he found himself praying in the Christian churches, Neo- 
 Platonist as he was '. However his dreams brought him warnings, 
 which enabled him to come safely through all. From Constanti- 
 nople he went to Alexandria and the story of his departure is 
 characteristic. He writes to his friend Pylaemenes thus (Ep. 61): 
 
 " Here is a big rug of Egyptian make, not the thing to be spread 
 under a bed, but to be a bed all by itself. Asterius the steno- 
 grapher 8 saw it and asked it of me, when I had to sleep in front 
 of the great offices. I promised I would leave it behind for him 
 as a parting gift. For I could not give such presents while I still 
 had to battle with the snow of Thrace. So I send it now, for I did 
 not leave it then. Please give it to him with my apologies, which 
 you can support with your own testimony, if you remember the 
 time when I left. We were having earthquakes many in the day, 
 and the people were falling to prayer, many of them flat on their 
 faces, for the ground was rocking. At that, I thought the sea safer 
 than the land the open sea. So I started at a run for the harbour, 
 without a word to any one, except poor Photius and to him I only 
 gave a shout from afar and a wave of the hand to say 'I'm off.' 
 And he said never a word to my friend Aurelian, consul as he was, 
 though to the assistant 3 Asterius he did make my apology. That 
 was what befell then." 
 
 1 He tells us so in Hymn. 3, 448; he prayed "in the temples to the acting 
 gods whom thou hast crowned with angelic rays." A/MjorTjpes 6eoi, active or 
 labouring gods, i.e. agents of the supreme God, who, himself remote like an 
 Emperor, entrusts activities to subordinates. Synesius is thought to mean the 
 saints. In any case his action and his description are remarkable. 
 
 2 The stenographers were made part of the civil service by Constantino, and 
 grouped as we see from this letter (lower) in symmories. See Diet. Ant. s.v. 
 notarius. 
 
 3 Beading and translation are here alike doubtful.
 
 330 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 The letter concludes with directions for finding the stenographer, 
 "a Syrian, with a dark complexion and a lean face, and of average 
 height." From Alexandria Synesius returned home to Gyrene. 
 His brother he left in Alexandria, where perhaps he had lived since 
 first the two of them came to study. His voyage homeward was 
 adventurous and he has left us a lively account of it in a letter 
 (Ep. 4) written to his brother on the way. It is a long letter, but 
 I will quote part of it, as it illustrates Synesius in some of his 
 various minds and moods as The White Squall does Thackeray. 
 It shews his vivacity and his habit of playful exaggeration, but 
 also betrays the curious influence of the sophistic training of the 
 day in some traces of artificial simplicity and in the scholastic 
 interpretation of the line of Homer. How far superior he is to the 
 school can be seen by anyone who will read a page of Achilles 
 Tatius or a so-called letter of Aristaenetus. 
 
 "We loosed from Bendideion in the early morning and barely 
 by the afternoon passed Myrmex Pharios ; and twice or perhaps 
 three times the ship touched bottom in the harbour. That to begin 
 with seemed a bad omen, and the wise thing would have been to 
 leave a ship that was unlucky from the very start. But I was afraid 
 that, if I deserted, you would all call me a coward. So 
 
 'not yet was it the hour for quaking or shrinking 1 .' 
 
 Consequently, if anything happens, you will have been the death 
 of me. And yet what was there dreadful in your laughing, if 
 I were only out of danger? As with Epimetheus in the story 
 
 'Forethought he would none, so had afterthought' 
 
 so with me. I might have escaped then, but now encamped on a 
 desert strand we sit lamenting, and turn our eyes as best we may 
 to Alexandria and to our mother-land Gyrene the one we had but 
 we left it, the other we cannot reach, and we have seen and suffered 
 what we should never have dreamed of. 
 
 "For, listen, so that you may not think it all fun either, and 
 hear first what sort of a crew we had. The captain wished to die, 
 he was so deep in debt. Of the crew who were twelve in all the 
 steersman made thirteen more than half, and the steersman too, 
 
 1 Homer, Iliad vii. 217, but not quite the usual text otiirw ?T' tcricev for 
 otorws In flxf. People said Synesius had poor MSS. a charge he admitted, 
 pleading that they exercise the brain more than correct ones. Mr Halcomb, in 
 his admirable article on Synesius in the Diet, of Christian Biography, has 
 anticipated me in this apology for Migne's text of our author.
 
 Synesim 331 
 
 were Jews, a desperate race, firmly convinced it is piety to bring 
 about the deaths of as many Gentiles as possible. The rest 
 herdsmen, ploughmen, who a year ago had never touched an oar. 
 And all of them, these as well as those, were crippled, every man 
 of them in one limb at least. As long as we were in no danger, 
 they joked, and called one another not by their names but by their 
 infirmities Limper, Truss, Left-hander, Squint-eye. Each of them 
 had at least one distinction. All this gave us no slight amuse- 
 ment, but in the hour of need there was no more laughter about it 
 but wailing. We are more than fifty passengers about a third of 
 us women ; most of them young and pretty. But don't be jealous. 
 A curtain walled us off, and this of the stoutest, a fragment of a 
 sail that tore a little while ago, to modest men a wall of Semiramis. 
 And perhaps even Priapus would have been modest, if he had been 
 sailing on Amarantus' ship to such an extent did he never give 
 our fears of extreme peril a chance to rest. 
 
 "As soon as we were past your temple of Poseidon, he hoisted 
 all sail and made for Taphosiris 1 and tried for Scylla, which even 
 in pictures we abhor 2 . When we saw this and cried out, though 
 not before we were within a hair's-breadth of danger, at last and then 
 only under compulsion he reluctantly gave up the idea of a naval 
 engagement with the shoals. So turning the ship about, as if 
 repenting, he heads her for the open sea ; and as long as he could 
 he battled with the waves. Then the south wind springs up fresh, 
 under which we soon lost sight of land, and by and by fell in with 
 some merchantmen with two masts, who had no concern with our 
 land of Libya but were on a different course. We protested and 
 made a fuss about being so far from shore, but Amarantus in the 
 role of a Titan stood on his deck and rolled out curses in the most 
 tragic style. 'We can't fly,' says he, 'and what is a man to do with 
 you people who are afraid of the land and afraid of the sea?' 'Not 
 a bit of it, my dear Amarantus,' said I, 'if a man were reasonable 
 with them. But we had nothing to do with Taphosiris we only 
 wanted to live and now what do we want with the open sea? But 
 let us sail straight for Pentapolis (said I) keeping a moderate 
 distance out from land, so that if any accident the chances of the 
 sea, you know I suppose it is always uncertain, as you sailors 
 
 1 Not Taphosiris (Tomb of Osiris, Abusir) in Marmarica but a smaller one 
 in Egypt, Volkmann says. It is about thirty miles S.W. from Alexandria. 
 Strabo, c. 799, says the shore there is rocky. 
 
 2 The reading, or the geography perhaps, is obscure. Failing to fathom 
 Migne's wonderful text, I have translated Petavius' Latin rendering.
 
 332 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 say there might be a haven near at hand to receive us.' My 
 words failed to convince him and the rascal was stone-deaf, until a 
 strong north wind came upon us, rolling the waves up, high and 
 rough This fell on us quite suddenly, and took the sail on the 
 other quarter, making concave what had been convex 1 . We came 
 near being taken aback and it was with difficulty we came up to 
 the wind. And the groanful Amarantus says, 'There's scientific 
 sailing for you ! ' for he had been expecting, he said, a wind from 
 the sea for some time and that was why he was keeping out, and 
 now he could make a tack as the distance from the shore gave him 
 room. That would be our course now, but it could not have been 
 if we had hugged the shore, for we should have been driven on to 
 the land. Well, we accepted his story as long as it was day, and 
 there was as yet no danger, for that only began with the night, and 
 the waves kept mounting more and more. 
 
 "It was however the day which the Jews call the Preparation 
 [Friday] and they reckon the night to the next day, on which they 
 are not allowed to do any work, but they pay it especial honour and 
 rest on it. So the steersman let go the helm from his hands, when 
 he thought the sun would have set on the land, and threw himself 
 down, and 
 
 'What mariner should choose might trample him 2 .' 
 
 We did not at first understand the real reason, but took it for 
 despair, and went to him and besought him not to give up all hope 
 yet. For in plain fact the big rollers still kept on and the sea was 
 at issue with itself. It does this when the wind falls and the waves 
 it has set going do not fall with it, but, still retaining in full force 
 the impulse that started them, meet the onset of the gale and to 
 its front oppose their own. (I had to use fine words, not to give a 
 mean description of mighty evils.) Well, when people are sailing 
 under such circumstances, life hangs as they say by a slender thread. 
 But if the steersman is a rabbi (vo/xoStSao-KaXo?) into the bargain, 
 what will your feelings be ? 
 
 "When then we understood what he meant in leaving the helm 
 for when we begged him to save the ship from danger, he went on 
 reading his book we despaired of persuasion and tried force. And 
 
 1 This phrase is one of several so very strongly suggestive of the landsman 
 as to give me confidence that if the translation contain blunders in navigation, 
 as it well may, it will at least give a fair impression of Synesius" seamanship. 
 
 * A memory of Sophocles, Ajax 1146.
 
 Synesiw 333 
 
 a gallant soldier (for we have with us a good few Arabians, who 
 belong to the cavalry) drew his sword and threatened to cut his 
 head off, if he would not steer the ship. But in a moment he was 
 a genuine Maccabee, and would stick to his dogma. Yet when it 
 was now midnight he took his place of his own accord, 'for now,' 
 says he, 'the law allows me, as we are clearly in danger of our 
 lives.' At that, the tumult begins again, moaning of men and 
 screaming of women. Everybody began calling on heaven, and 
 wailing and remembering their dear ones. Amarantus alone was 
 cheerful, thinking he was on the point of ruling out his creditors. 
 
 "For myself amidst the dangers, I swear to you by the God 
 philosophy counts supreme, that line of Homer kept troubling me, 
 for fear it were true after all that death by drowning involved the 
 destruction of the soul too. For he says somewhere in the poems 1 
 
 'Ajax drank of the salt sea wave and utterly perished,' 
 
 meaning that death in the sea is absolute destruction. For he says 
 of no one else that he 'utterly perished,' but, as each dies 
 
 'so went he to Hades.' 
 
 Moreover in neither Nekyia is the lesser Ajax brought on the scene, 
 as if his soul were not in Hades. Achilles too, bravest of men and 
 most daring, plays the coward about death by water, which he calls 
 'baleful.' 
 
 "As I kept turning these thoughts over in my mind, I saw the 
 soldiers all with their swords drawn, and on inquiry I was told by 
 them it was better to breathe out one's soul in the air on deck, than 
 into the waters gasping. So I counted them of the school of Homer 
 by instinct, and I inclined to the dogma. 
 
 "Then someone bids all who had any gold hang it to their 
 necks, and those did so who had any gold or its equivalent. The 
 women did it for themselves and gave threads to any who needed 
 them. This is an ancient practice and here is the reason of it. 
 The dead washed up from a wreck must bring the price of his 
 burial. For the man who lights on him and gets gain by him will 
 be afraid of the laws of Nemesis, if he does not give a little back to 
 him who has given him many times more. That was what they 
 were doing. But I sat by and wept to think of the accursed purse, 
 
 1 Odyssey iv. 511, but not exactly, for the editions at least read ZvO' dir6\<a\e 
 for the eair6\wXe Synesius had in his mind. Some bracket the line because 
 (says Merry) "they fail to see the grim humour of it." Achilles in It. xxi. 281.
 
 334 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 the loan of my friend 1 . The God of strangers knows my fear was 
 not of death but about the money, in case the Thracian should lose 
 by me, for even in death I would be ashamed of that. In that case 
 to 'perish utterly' and lose consciousness would be a gain. 
 
 "What made the danger so urgent was nothing but that the 
 ship was under full sail. To reduce it was impossible. We tried 
 the ropes again and again, but gave it up, as they were tight in the 
 rings ; and the fear came on us (and it was not a lesser fear) that 
 if we escaped the waves we might in such a plight run ashore in the 
 dark. 
 
 "Day came and we saw the sun, I don't know if ever with more 
 pleasure. The wind began to fall as the day grew warmer, and the 
 dew rose and let us use the ropes and manage the sail. We could 
 not shift it and put up the 'bastard' it had been pawned but we 
 took in some of it, like girding up a tunic. And before four hours 
 were over we, who had expected to die, disembarked on an utterly 
 desolate shore without town or farm near by, and about a hundred 
 and thirty stades down from a farm. The ship was tossing in the 
 open, for the spot was not a harbour, and she was tossing on one 
 anchor. The second had been sold, and Amarantus never had a 
 third. 
 
 "As for us, as soon as we reached the land we longed for, we 
 embraced it as if it had been a living mother. Offering as usual a 
 hymn of gratitude to God, I added to it the recent misadventure 
 from which we had unexpectedly been saved." 
 
 This was not the end of the adventures of the voyage, but for 
 our purposes so much may suffice and we may turn to his pictures 
 of country life in the Cyrenaica. Let us take as our starting-point 
 Letter 148 "a gossiping letter" as he calls it. It will not be 
 necessary to render it in full. 
 
 He is not a near neighbour of the sea, he says, for he lives up 
 country toward the south wind, the last of all the Cyrenians, in a place 
 where oars are as strange as to the people in the Odyssey who took 
 the oar for a winnowing fan. His neighbours had no salt but "the 
 salts of Ammon," and were very sceptical about lands over the sea 
 and the sea itself. As to fish how could salt water produce any- 
 thing edible, when their fresh streams had nothing better than frogs 
 and leeches? It is a plain country life they live, the sounds they 
 
 1 Ep. 129 explains this. Proclus had lent him 60 gold pieces, which he 
 entered as 70 and for which Synesius was to repay him 80. He paid it on his 
 return to Gyrene, in spite of difficulties of communication.
 
 Synesim 335 
 
 hear are all of the farm, and if the products of their lands are not 
 severally the best of their kinds, yet collectively few countries can 
 rival them ; they supply all their own wants with a little over for 
 the tax-gatherer. Their songs are simple strains of the country- 
 side "the praise of a good ram perhaps; or a stump-tailed dog 
 gets a eulogy because he is not afraid of hyaenas and takes the 
 wolves by the throat. And not least, the huntsman is made into a 
 song, for he makes peace for the pastures and gives us good cheer 
 by bringing all kind of game... but nothing so often as certain 
 prayers, still in song, petitions for blessing on man and crop and 
 beast." "The Emperor and the court and the dance of fortune are 
 mere names, kindled like flames and quenched ; here our ears get a 
 rest from such talk. That there is an Emperor always in existence, 
 I suppose they know quite well, but we are only reminded of him 
 once a year by the tax-gatherers. But who he is, is not so clear. 
 Some of us think Agamemnon is still king, the son of Atreus that 
 went against Troy, the brave and good 1 . For that is the king's 
 name we hear about from childhood. And there is a friend of his, 
 Odysseus, the good herdsmen talk of a bald man but a rare hand 
 for doing things and finding a way in a scrape. Don't they laugh, 
 as they tell of him, thinking it only a year or so since the Cyclops 
 was blinded ; and how the old boy was dragged along under the 
 ram, and how the villain sat by the door and thought the leader of 
 the flock was in the rear, not because he was feeling the weight, 
 but because he was feeling for his master's bad luck. My 
 letter, you see, has let you be with us a little while in spirit. 
 You have seen the country, and the simplicity of our ways. 
 Life in Noah's age, you will call it, before law and order ended in 
 slavery." 
 
 Praise of country life and the joys and beauties of the field are 
 common themes of the later sophists, a ad wearisome and frosty 
 many of their eulogies and descriptions are. Except perhaps in 
 Daphnis and Ckloe, even if there, it would be hard to find anything 
 as natural as Synesius' work, though his education is to be plainly 
 read in this as in everything he wrote 2 . 
 
 1 Compare Dio Chrysostom's Borystheniticus 9 and 14, on the popularity of 
 Homer among the Greek settlers on the Borysthenes (Dnieper) their only poet. 
 He writes about 100 A.D. 
 
 2 Dio Chrysostom's oration Euboicus, with its highly ideal picture of the 
 "settled low content" of the hunters in the desert country, may have given 
 Synesius a suggestion, but his description is independent and no doubt represents 
 a real life, though it omits the barbarians and the locusts and other drawbacks.
 
 336 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 He says in the letter just quoted, "We have leisure to philo- 
 sophize, but none to do wrong," and elsewhere (Ep. 57, 1388 c) 
 speaking of these days he says, "I lived with good hopes, regarding 
 the universe in which I was as a sacred precinct, and myself like a 
 sacred animal free and unshackled in it, and I divided my life 
 between prayer and book and chase; for that soul and body may.be 
 healthy, we need at once to work and pray to God." His brother 
 came to live at the little port of Phycus, and we have letters that 
 tell of their happy relations, of visits to each other and sometimes 
 of business. 
 
 "So you are surprised," he writes (Ep. 114), "when you live in 
 dirty Phycus, that you have shivering fits and have got your blood 
 into a bad state ? On the contrary you should be surprised if your 
 system can endure the heat there. But if you come up to us, you 
 may with God's blessing get better, once you are quit of the air 
 corrupted by the marshy exhalations, quit of the water, brackish, 
 warm and, generally, stagnant which is to say, dead. What is 
 there fine in lying on the sand of the beach the only amusement 
 you have ? for where can you go ? But up here ! what a thing it is 
 to come under the shadow of a tree ! and if you aren't comfortable 
 to change that tree for another one grove for another. What a 
 thing it is to cross the rivulet by the roadside ! How pleasant the 
 zephyr is, gently playing with the branches ! and the various songs 
 of the birds, and the colours of the flowers, and the bushes of the 
 meadow some the works of the farmer, some the gifts of nature, 
 all fragrant, the output of a healthy earth. The cave of the 
 Nymphs I won't praise, for it wants a Theocritus. And there's more 
 too." 
 
 We hear a good deal about horses. His brother is raising a 
 pair "for tribute" (Ep. 132). Now a soldier steals one of Synesius' 
 own, "because, he says, a soldier should have a horse. He offers an 
 absurdly small sum, and won't give it back when I refuse to sell " 
 (Ep. 6). Now he sends one to a friend (Ep. 40) "a horse excellent 
 for every equine virtue; you can use him in racing, when you go 
 hunting, in a cavalry battle or a procession, for I don't know which 
 to call him a hunter, a racehorse, a horse for parade, or a war- 
 horse. And if he isn't as pretty as the Nisaean horses being 
 lumpish in the head and lean in the flank perhaps not even to 
 horses, any more than to men, does God give everything at once... 
 Horses with you run to flesh, but ours to bone." And now we find 
 him, like a good Cyrenian, importing an Italian stallion, who, it is
 
 Synesius 337 
 
 promised, will "leave good foals behind him," but who is left at 
 Seleucia "as the captain on account of the weather did not want 
 such freight" (Ep. 133). He also speaks of breeding dogs for the 
 chase (Calv. Enc. c. 4). 
 
 Now and again he went abroad. It seems he paid several visits 
 to Alexandria, on one of which (? 403) he married a Christian lady 
 to whose influence some have attributed a share in his conversion. 
 We do not hear much of her. Possibly Synesius held the view he 
 attributes to the virtuous Osiris in the book on Providence. "That 
 Osiris had women's apartments in his house, his child was the only 
 reminder, and he too was rarely seen. For Osiris thought it was 
 the one virtue of a woman that neither her person nor her name 
 should pass the curtain" (de Prov. i. 13). He has a severe letter 
 on the airs and graces of a lady married into his family, who was 
 annoyed at someone dying at the time of her marriage She 
 appeared at the funeral an unusual thing for brides to do but, to 
 avoid an unlucky omen for her husband, she came in red, wearing a 
 transparent veil, and gold and jewels in abundance (Ep. 3). On 
 the other hand, he had an intense admiration for Hypatia, who 
 transgressed his Periclean canon to good purpose. 
 
 Once he visited Athens. We have two letters, one written 
 beforehand, the other from the place. He gives his reason for going 
 (Ep. 54). "I shall gain not only this advantage from my journey 
 to Athens to be rid of the present troubles but also I shall no 
 longer have to adore those who come thence for their learning. 
 They don't differ from us mortals at least not as regards under- 
 standing Aristotle and Plato but move amongst us, like demi-gods 
 among demi-donkeys, because they have seen the Academy and the 
 Lyceum etc." Then he writes to his brother again after seeing the 
 sights (Ep. 136) : 
 
 "I hope I may profit as much from Athens as you wish. Indeed 
 I seem more than a hand and a finger wiser already, and I can give 
 you a proof of my divine wisdom on the spot. I am actually 
 writing to you from Anagyrus, and I have been at Sphettos, Thria, 
 Cephisia and Phalerum. But ill befall the ill man who brought me 
 here, the captain. For the Athens of to-day has nothing splendid 
 to shew but the famous names of the places. And just as when a 
 sacrifice has been offered the skin is left to shew what the animal 
 once was ; so, since philosophy has gone away from here, it is only 
 left one to go round and admire the Academy and the Lyceum, yes ! 
 and the Painted Stoa, which gave its name to Chrysippus' philosophy 
 G. 22
 
 338 Life and' Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 but is not painted (^01x1X77) any longer, for the proconsul has taken 
 away the pictures in which Polygnotus of Thasos displayed his art 1 . 
 But in our day it is Egypt that nourishes the seeds of wisdom, which 
 it receives from Hypatia. As for Athens, the city was once the 
 home of the wise, but nowadays it is the bee-keepers who make her 
 famous. You can add the pair of Plutarchian sages, who gather the 
 young men in the theatres, not by the fame of their discourses but 
 with honeycombs from Hymettus." 
 
 Too much attention may be paid to this criticism of Athens and 
 too little. There had been seven hundred years of rivalry between 
 Athens and Alexandria, and Synesius belonged to the latter uni- 
 versity, and had, as we have seen, a habit of taking humorous views 
 of things. On the other hand, Dean Merivale describes Athens as 
 already in Hadrian's time "a dirty city in decay" in spite of its 
 monuments. Curtius and Rohde however do not think the case was 
 as bad as Synesius says, though the city was going down-. The 
 story about the proconsul should be noticed. Alaric had been 
 ravaging Greece in 395 but he seems to have spared Athens, and 
 now as often before (for Wachsmuth thinks the robbery was recent) 
 it was the Roman official whom she had to dread. At any rate 
 intellectually, in spite of Proclus, Athens' day was done and she had 
 no longer anything to give to mankind. 
 
 The fruits of Synesius' "leisure to philosophize" are to be found 
 in his three books the Dio, Concerning Dreams and The Praise of 
 Baldness. They cannot be taken as a very serious contribution to 
 thought. "A man of many and wandering thoughts" he was not 
 really serious enough to do any very profound thinking. To under- 
 stand this at once, it is only necessary to compare him with 
 Augustine, who will be satisfied with nothing short of reality and 
 certainty 3 . Manichaean science he tests and finds untrue to actual 
 fact. Neo-Platonist theology fascinates him, but cannot hold him, 
 because it fails in motive power, because it fails to meet the need 
 of common people, and because when all is done it fails to bring 
 God within reach. Synesius is different. Like Julian he is essen- 
 tially a disciple, and he accepts without afterthought the ''dogmata" 
 
 1 Julian, ad Themist. 259 B, implies that the gardens of Epicurus, the myrtles 
 and the little house of Socrates were among the "show-places"' of Athens. 
 
 2 Merivale, Romans under Empire, c. 66. See Curtius, Stadtgesch. der Athen, 
 c. 8, and Wachsmuth, Die Stadt Athen im Alterthitm, p. 717, who discounts 
 Claudian's inclusion of Athens among the places ravaged by Alaric (in Rufin. 
 ii. 191). 
 
 3 Compare Augustine, Con/, iii. 6, 10 veritas, veritas, quam intime etiam 
 turn medullae animi mei suspirabant tibi; and v. 3, 3 6 on Manichaean science.
 
 Synesius 339 
 
 of the school which gave him his first quickening. True, he left 
 Neo-Platonism for Christianity, but his Christianity where it is at 
 all thought out is a superstructure on a Neo-Platonic base, though 
 in reality it is perhaps more a matter of feeling than of thought. 
 As a Christian he inquires as little as he did when a Neo-Pktonist. 
 Whether his tenets correspond with reality is not his most vital 
 concern, as it was Augustine's, but whether they satisfy the 
 immediate spiritual craving of his own heart. He is content with 
 an easy solution if he can be rid of the question. There is nothing 
 approaching dishonesty about him, it is merely an unspeculative 
 habit of mind. Yet "the heart," Pascal says, "has its reasons as 
 well as the head," and Synesius' instincts and strong human 
 affections generally lead him to some sound working principle, even 
 though he does not realize in all its relations the truth under- 
 lying it. 
 
 The most important of the three books of this period is the 
 Dio. In a letter to Hypatia (Ep. 154), accompanying it and the 
 book on Dreams, he explains how he came to write it. He has been 
 criticized from two quarters, by the men in white, and the men in 
 black. The former were " philosophers," sophists and rhetoricians ; 
 the latter, monks and clergy 1 , were the more serious. 
 
 The philosophers, in effect, accused him of trifling, "of sinning 
 against philosophy, heeding charm and rhythm in diction, pretending 
 to opinions on Homer." "They attained to a view of the intelligible 
 world, but he might not, because he gave some of his leisure to 
 rhetoric and was only fit for amusement." A lost poem or two of 
 his had got abroad, he says, and were "eagerly received by some 
 young men, who cared for Hellenism and grace." So he holds 
 up Dio as an example of a rhetorician who turned philosopher 
 a Stoic, not speculative but mainly practical and yet retained 
 his charm of classic style. And indeed a partially educated man is 
 not educated, for the Muses all go together (Movo-as = o'/xov ovo-as by 
 etymology), and the philosopher, worthy of the name, must fail in 
 no learning of the Graces nor lack knowledge of any notable litera- 
 ture, but must be a genuine "Hellen" able to associate with any 
 one. Knowledge of one thing makes a craftsman or a specialist, 
 but a philosopher is made by a harmony of all knowledge. These 
 stiff gentlemen, who despise rhetoric and poetry, are so, he expects, 
 
 1 See the amusing account given by Socrates (vi. 22) of the Novatian bishop 
 Sisinnius, who preferred to wear white, and the scriptural reasons he playfully 
 gave for it (e.g. Eccles. ix. 8). 
 
 222
 
 340 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 not of their own choice but by poverty of nature. Beauty of words 
 is not an idle thing, it is a pure pleasure that looks away from 
 matter to real existence If you reject this pleasure, what will you 
 take instead? for you must have some pleasure. A man may be 
 well-equipped in speech and master of philosophy at the same time. 
 But what do the grammarians do, these critics of syllables, the 
 teachers ? They are sterile. There is a child-birth of letters as of 
 beings, and the man who gives forth habitually what is immature 
 falls into a habit of miscarriage and never produces anything that is 
 perfect, anything that can live. Your ready speaker has always a 
 "cheap finish 1 ." Synesius therefore feels justified in living his own 
 life quietly among his books, developing his style and his mind 
 together, as against the raw philosopher, and content to be called a 
 trifler by the busy and didactic grammarian. 
 
 But he is more irritated by the gentlemen in black. Ignorance, 
 he writes to Hypatia, gives them courage, and they are everlastingly 
 ready to debate about God. Give them a chance and you are 
 deluged. It pays them, for from their ranks come the city preachers, 
 and to be that is to hold Amaltheia's horn (cornu copiae). " They 
 want me to be their disciple and promise to make me in a twinkling 
 a ready talker on the things of God, and able to harangue days and 
 nights together." No doubt they did, for, as he says elsewhere 
 (Ep. 57, 1389 B), "a philosopher's ordination attracts attention." 
 Synesius' wife was a Christian, and he was doubtless kiudly disposed 
 to Christians as he was to everybody, though not inclined to be 
 converted in a hurry. Neo-Platonism, we may perhaps say, had 
 two wings, the Left composed of adherents who leant to theiirgy, 
 magic and enchantments, and were like Julian more or less bitterly 
 opposed to Christians, and the Right consisting of the animae 
 candidiores, who counted it "bad manners to hustle God (oJ0r/>s)" 
 by magic, piety to wait on him and the ideal life one of natural 
 and willing communion with him 2 . These men, and Synesius with 
 
 1 This phrase of Stevenson's ("Journalism," he said, "is the school of cheap 
 finish") answers to dSiWros ffK^/j./j.a irapaXafiuv ucnrep dvSptavra ^cras es rb aKpipts 
 
 ' 2 Cf. Augustine's indignation, while he was yet a Manichaean, at an enchanter's 
 overtures: recolo...me autem foeda ilia sacramenta detestatum et abominatum 
 respondisse, Conf. iv. 1, 3. The proposal had been to secure by sacrifice of 
 some animals the aid of daemonia, and Augustine declared he would not sacrifice 
 a fly for an eternal crown of gold. The poem Lithica of the so-called Orpheus, 
 really a work of about the fourth century A. D. as its references to the unpopularity 
 of religion and magic shew, deals with the qualities special stones possess of 
 "compelling" the gods. See also de Civ. Dei x. 9 and 10, for Augustine's 
 general criticism of Porphyry and the art quam vel magiam, vel detestabiliore 
 nomine goetiam, vel honor abiliore theurgiam vacant,
 
 Synesius 341 
 
 them, would not wish to "hustle" others who differed from them, 
 though they might pity and despise them. 
 
 The monks, then, according to Synesius, were on wrong lines. 
 Disregarding pretenders among them, he says the rest do not realize 
 man's nature. God can do without pleasure, the beasts have bodily 
 pleasures. Man standing between cannot do without pleasure but 
 need not choose the pleasures of matter. The monks try to be 
 more than human; and "now they are in God and now in the 
 world and the body," and from contemplation they have to seek 
 relaxation in basket-makiag, while the Greek developes his mind 
 and his perception in his very amusements rhetoric and poetry. 
 They aim, no doubt, at the same thing as the philosopher, the sight 
 of God, but, though it may be granted that some few of them reach 
 it by happy endowment, they do not travel thither by road but their 
 progress is more like a Bacchic frenzy, a long jump taken in madness 
 and excitement 1 . Nor do they understand very often what they 
 are doing. They must be chaste, but why? They abstain from 
 marriage as if such abstinence were an end in itself. The prepara- 
 tion they count the goal. But to the philosopher the virtues are 
 stages toward philosophy, they are to it as the letters are to a book. 
 They are not everything, but after all merely mean the removal of 
 obstacles to attaining the real end. The monk receives a command 
 to be virtuous, and he obeys, but it is external to him. He does 
 not know why he should be so. His virtue is therefore unintelligent 
 and in consequence unmeaning, and perhaps not even virtue at all 
 in the highest sense. In other words, Synesius finds monastic virtue 
 mechanical and uninspired, and Neander says he is right and finds 
 his judgment remarkable for moderation and truth 2 . 
 
 Synesius was in earnest about communion with God, but some 
 of his ways of attaining it seem to us as strange as those of the 
 monks. In his book On Dreams he pleads for intercourse with God 
 in sleep. Chaste living and moderation in all things are the means 
 to obtain good dreams of God, who will often communicate in this 
 way warnings against threatening danger, guidance and so forth. 
 This doctrine was one of the Neo-Platonists', of whose teaching at 
 large the book is full. Julian communed so with heaven. Porphyry 
 says good demons bring messages to the virtuous in their dreams. 
 
 1 Curiously the author of Ae vita contemplativa c. 2 uses much the same ex- 
 pression of his Therapeutae; "seized by heavenly love KaOdirep ol pa.Kxev6/j.fi><H. 
 KO.I KopvpavTiuvres fpffovffiifovffi." 
 
 - Church History, vol. iii. p. 360, Bohn.
 
 342 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Macrobius classifies dreams from oracles down to nightmares and 
 Prudentius discusses the question in his poem for sleep-time. Even 
 Ammianus pleads that divination by dreams is not more necessarily 
 futile because it blunders than medicine. Augustine believed in his 
 mother's dreams, and says she told him "she could distinguish by 
 some strange savour, which she could not explain in words, between 
 a revelation from God and an idle dream of her own mind." 
 Synesius' own work was written at a divine command, which came 
 in a dream, and the whole of it in a single night or rather in the 
 remainder of that night on which he had the dream. " Whenever 
 I take it up, I have a strange feeling, and a divine voice, as poetry 
 says, is shed about me." Hypatia was to be the first reader. 
 
 The Praise of Baldness is frankly a humorous work, written 
 after the other two. " Adoxography " was a recognized branch of 
 sophistic composition 1 . Unpromising, ugly or inglorious subjects 
 were chosen and the rhetorician did his best for them. It was 
 "making the worse appear the better reason." One of the most 
 accessible examples of the kind is Lucian's Praise of a Fly, which 
 adequately exhibits its possibilities of neatness and triviality. 
 Synesius wrote his piece in imitation of Dio's Praise of Hair, part 
 or all of which he quotes. The work is not elsewhere preserved. 
 
 Synesius professes that he is growing bald, but reflects that hair 
 is the mark of the beast, while man is in the main bald, though 
 partially hairy to remind him of his midway position in the universe. 
 But with dogs, for example, the more hair, the less sense. So the 
 balder a man is, the wiser and the more divine we may take him to 
 be. Hair like the adornment of growing corn withers when the 
 fruit, here the brain, is ripe. Of all shapes the sphere is most 
 perfect and that is the shape of the bald head. The soul naturally 
 aims at the imitation of God and yearns to inhabit a sphere, but 
 whether this be a star or a bald head is immaterial. Our head is 
 our most heavenward part, and its baldness is heaven for us. 
 Though the vulgar admire hair, as they do everything external, 
 
 1 Erwin Eohde, Der Griechische Roman, p. 308. The author of the Clemen- 
 tine homilies sets an imaginary opponent of Christianity to compose a /toix'o? 
 tyKu/Mov (Clem. Horn. v. 10 19) with abundant illustration from mythology 
 a by no means extravagant performance for a rhetorician, which most adroitly 
 exhibits the bad side of Olympus. Gellius, N. A. xvii. 12, speaks of these 
 themes and their uses, to rouse the wit, to practise cleverness, to overcome 
 difficulties, and says that they were favourite exercises of philosophers as well 
 as sophists, e.g. his teacher Favorinus praised Thersites and quartan fever. 
 There is another Praise of Hair in Philostratus (Ep. 16). Claudian's poems on 
 the electric eel (or fish) of the Nile, the porcupine and the magnet may come 
 under this class.
 
 Synesius 343 
 
 the spheric is the blessed form. (So says Macrobius more gravely, 
 Comm. i. 14. 8, 9.) Just as the moon waxes to the full, so does 
 baldness, till it exhibits the head "shining back with full-orbed circle 
 to the lights of heaven." Hair and the vices flourish and pass 
 together. Even Achilles was bald in front or at least Athene took 
 him by the hair from behind. The best of men, priests and philo- 
 sophers, are all painted as bald. This work is for philosophers and, 
 if it be published, he hopes the "lovers of hair" (<(.AOKO/AOI) will be 
 ashamed and adopt the reasonable and honourable practice of 
 shaving, but always pay special honour to those who do not need 
 the barber. The fooling is exquisite but perhaps a little long. It 
 should be noted that the ideas he parodies are Neo-Platonic. 
 
 " But to this idyllic country life that only wanted a Theocritus 
 there was another side. Cyrene was for the civilized world 
 practically an island, but in reality it was unhappily not so. The 
 barbarian tribes of the interior, Macetae arid Ausurians, were in 
 the habit of raiding the land, and in general little effective opposi- 
 tion was offered to them. There were troops to meet them, if only 
 the governors and officials could be trusted, but they could not. 
 They were as a rule not there because they were fit for their work. 
 The barbarians, like the Iroquois in Canada, came and went as they 
 would with suddenness and swiftness. Accordingly one responsible 
 official sells the soldiers' horses and pockets the money, and nothing 
 can be done with infantry. Another scatters the troops about in such 
 a way that they are useless. Now and again a capable man is sent 
 and the savages are taught a lesson. He is recalled and they return 
 actually to besiege fortresses and towns. Yet bad as this was, 
 there was a worse symptom. The Cyrenians would do nothing for 
 themselves, and when Synesius tried to rouse them and raise a 
 troop of farm people, his brother wrote to warn him that such 
 activity was dangerous in a private person. For centuries the 
 Roman government had discouraged energy and initiative among 
 the provincials, and they had acquired the habit of having everything 
 done for them. Public spirit had been suspected and killed, and 
 now an enemy, whose weakness was seen whenever any determined 
 action was taken against him, plundered and burnt, drove off cattle 
 and horses and camels and carried away children to bring them up 
 to ravage as men the lands they played on in childhood another 
 Iroquois trait all this for want of public spirit. The army itself 
 was composed of foreigners Synesius speaks of corps of Marco- 
 manni, Arabians, Unnigardae and the native-born Romans were
 
 344 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 kept in civil life to be taxed. He had not gone an inch beyond 
 what he had warrant for, when in his speech on Kingship he had 
 pled for citizen soldiers. And now neither the citizens nor the 
 soldiers nor the officials were of any use. "The enemy are burning, 
 slaying and kidnapping," he writes, "and not one of us is troubled ; 
 we sit and wait for the useless help of the soldiers. Shall we never 
 stop talking nonsense? never come to our senses and gather the 
 farmers and labourers and march out together against the enemy, 
 for our children, for our wives, for our land yes ! and if you like 
 for the soldiers too?" (Ep. 125). 
 
 A letter of Synesius to Hypatia, written apparently a short time 
 after his return home from Constantinople, illustrates the situation 
 and his own temper. 
 
 "'Yea though in Hades' realm the dead by the dead are forgotten, 
 Yet even there will I 1 ' 
 
 remember my dear Hypatia. As for me, on all hands I am sur- 
 rounded by the sufferings of my native land, and my heart is sad 
 for her. For every day I see the foemen's arms and the butchery 
 of men like beasts for sacrifice, and I breathe air tainted with 
 corrupting corpses, and I look to suffer the like myself. For who 
 could be of good hope surrounded by all that is humiliating and 
 overshadowed by carnivorous birds 2 ? Yet for all that I love my 
 land. What should I else, who am a Libyan and was born here and 
 still see the tombs of my ancestors held in honour ? For you alone 
 I think I can forget my land and return if I have the leisure " 
 (Ep. 124). 
 
 This last was a mere compliment, Volkmann says, but it is not 
 impossible that it is only a promise of a visit and not of a per- 
 manent change of abode. Visits, as we have seen, he did make to 
 Alexandria, but he loved his land too well to quit it for ever. 
 Letter 130 shews further stages of trouble. 
 
 "To Simplicius. Your greeting me through Cerealis gave him 
 live days' grace ; for so long we did not find him out for the knave 
 he is. For the cities hoped for something good from a man whom 
 Simplicius did not disdain to know. But he very quickly brought 
 shame not on you (for Heaven grant your reputation may never 
 
 1 Iliad xxii. 389. 
 
 2 See Lord Roberts, Forty -one years in India, c. 15, for 'the innumerable 
 birds of prey which instinct had brought to Delhi from the remotest parts of 
 India' in 1857.
 
 Synesim 345 
 
 depend on another) but on himself and his office, and, not to hesitate, 
 on the Roman empire a man to be bought for a trifle, careless of 
 his fame, unwarlike and in peace oppressive though he had not a 
 long enjoyment of peace. For as if there were a law that what is 
 the soldiers' is the general's, he took from everyone what they had 
 and in exchange released them from service and discipline and let 
 them go where they might think they could pick up a living. This 
 he did to the native troops, but as he could not get money out of 
 the mercenaries he did out of their towns, marching and moving 
 about, not where it was most profitable but where it was most 
 lucrative. The towns found their presence a burden and paid down 
 their gold. The Macetae soon saw this, and from the half- 
 barbarians to the barbarians the report spread. 
 
 'Thick as the leaves they came and thick as the flowers of spring-time.' 
 
 "Alas! for the youth that are lost to us! for the harvests we 
 hoped for in vain ! We sowed for the enemy's fire. Most of us had 
 our wealth in beasts, in brood camels and horses out at grass. All 
 is gone, all driven off. I know it too well, as I am beside myself 
 with annoyance. But forgive me. For I am behind walls, and 
 I write under siege, seeing beacons often in the hour, lighting them 
 myself and passing on signals to others. The long hunting expedi- 
 tions I once enjoyed securely and most of all for your sake they 
 are all past. And I groan 
 
 'as I bethink me 
 Of that past youth, that temper and that mind.' 
 
 "But now everything swarms with horsemen and the enemy hold 
 the country. And I at my station between two towers am battling 
 with sleep. 
 
 'Under my spear I munch my barley-cake, 
 Under my spear a soldier's thirst I slake, 
 Drain the Ismaric, leaning on my spear.' 
 
 I don't know if Archilochus had any better right to say this. Evil 
 befall the evil Cerealis, if he has not anticipated my curse, for he 
 deserved to perish in the recent storm. For when he saw in what 
 plight the country was, he lost confidence at once in land, and put 
 his gold on some merchant schooners, and is tossing on the sea. A 
 skifif brings us his despatches, which bid us do what we are doing 
 keep within the walls, not advance outside the trenches, not come 
 to close quarters with these invincible men, or else, he protests, he
 
 346 Life and, Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 washes his hands of us. He tells us to set four watches through 
 the night, as if our hopes lay in not sleeping. For he seems skilled 
 in such things, like a man born to disaster. Yet he did not want 
 even a share in oiir misfortunes. For not by a battlement like me, 
 Synesius the philosopher 1 , but by an oar our general takes his 
 stand. 
 
 "If you really like the poems for which you asked though I am 
 not aware of anything good about them except their subject pray 
 with the Cyrenians that they may have a little respite from arms. 
 For as we are now, there is not leisure to take the books from the 
 boxes." 
 
 There are other letters in like strain, which, with those describing 
 the country and its people, give us a bright and living picture of 
 the life of the province. The books and hymns reveal in some 
 measure what was passing in Synesius' mind. The earlier hymns 
 are frankly Neo-Platonic, but a change appears, for the fifth begins : 
 
 "The offspring of the Virgin, 
 The Virgin never wedded 
 In human wedlock, sing we." 
 
 The remaining five are all more or less Christian. The eighth may 
 be dated 405 or 406, and we may ask whether it is later or earlier 
 than the three preceding. In any case, perhaps as much as three 
 years before the bishopric is mentioned, Synesius was hymning the 
 Virgin-born. This was an advance on Neo-Platonism. How had 
 he reached this point ? 
 
 He does not tell us what made him a Christian, his apologia 
 about the bishopric turning on the reasons which led him to sur- 
 render the quiet life he loved for one of office and worry and 
 business. Only a few hints occur from which we may gather some 
 of his motives. In such matters it is always hard to be explicit. 
 The reasons which a man will give for holding the deepest religious 
 truths must generally seem more or less inadequate, because they 
 can never be completely stated. Such truths are held by a man, or 
 rather perhaps he would say, hold him, because they are to him a 
 spiritual necessity, which he feels as the result of experience, and no 
 one who has not had this or a similar experience can understand 
 why he should so feel. 
 
 1 Is he thinking of Dio, bidden by the Borysthenites to take arms and fight 
 like Achilles against the barbarian raiders? (Dio, Borysth. 28).
 
 Synesius 347 
 
 Synesius under the stress of great danger had prayed in the 
 churches of Constantinople, and this of itself shews a certain friend- 
 liness to Christianity. Julian, for example, would not have done so ; 
 his visits to church were only dictated by policy. Synesius again 
 had a Christian wife, who had been given to him by bishop 
 Theophilus of Alexandria a man who has not a good name in 
 history 1 . However, Chrysostom had been in Constantinople when 
 Synesius was there, and must have impressed him, as we find him 
 speaking warmly of Chrysostom to Theophilus, the man who had 
 hounded him to his death. We also see that the clergy and the monks 
 tried to capture him, and while in the Dio he accuses them of being 
 on wrong lines he admits that their aim is the right one. His own 
 Neo-Platonic Trinity bears a close likeness to the Christian one. 
 There were thus many things leading him to the Church. The 
 difficulty was probably the Incarnation, the belief that God could 
 stoop to contact with the material world. 
 
 To a belief in this he was helped, if my deductions are right, 
 mainly by two things a deepening sense of his own difficulty in 
 keeping "clean from matter," and a growing feeling for the needs 
 and sorrows of common people. Neo-Platonism was not clear as to 
 how far a man, striving to be pure and godlike, received divine 
 assistance. Did God leave man to work out his own salvation by 
 himself, as Macrobius implies, or lend aid at every turn as Julian 
 hopes (though Julian rested for this on magic), or intervene occasion- 
 ally at great crises, as Synesius' book on Providence teaches ? The 
 Christian account was much more explicit, even before Augustine 
 developed the doctrine of grace. Synesius later on says incidentally 
 that he cannot himself mingle with the material world and remain 
 pure. "And if it had been possible even for an angel to become a 
 man and for more than thirty years suffer nothing from contact 
 with matter, why need the Son of God have descended?" (Ep. 57, 
 1396 c). Elsewhere he laments, "I have no strength; what is 
 within is not pure, and I cannot avail for what is without ; and 
 I am far from being able to bear the pain of conscience" (Ep. 104, 
 1484 c). His case had been with differences like Augustine's, who 
 says of his Neo-Platonist days: "I thought continence a matter 
 
 1 One example of outside opinion of Tbeophilus may suffice. In Sulpicius' 
 Dialogue (i. 7) Postumian says of him me quidem episcopwt illius civitatis benigne 
 admodum et melius quam opinabar excepit et secum tenere temptavit, xed nonfuit 
 cmimuit ibi consiatfire ubi recenn fraternae cladis fervebat invidia. This was 
 written even before tbe fall of Cbrysostom.
 
 348 Life and Letters in tJie Fourth Century 
 
 of my own strength, which I did not really know, since I was so 
 foolish as not to be aware (as it is written) that ' none can be 
 continent unless Thou give it' (Wisdom viii. 21)" (Conf. vi. 11, 20). 
 Experience had taught Synesius better. "It was necessary (ISei) 
 that Christ should be crucified for the sins of all men" (Ep. 57, 
 1385 B). 
 
 Again, the suffering his country had to undergo fell on him no 
 more than on his poorer neighbours. He had always been the poor 
 man's friend, though as a Neo-Platonist he could not expect much 
 philosophy from the poor and therefore must set them on a lower 
 plane. But suffering seems to have put him and them on one level. 
 They all suffered alike from savages and bad governors ; alike they 
 risked life and property, and together they fought and did sentry 
 duty for their country. Though Synesius' own three children had 
 not been carried off, he could as a father feel what such a loss was. 
 What was to help these poor people, for whom Neo-Platonism was 
 too fine and too hard? All this is, of course, inference, but it seems 
 to me legitimate when I contrast a typical Neo-Platonic utterance 
 with an expression wrung from Synesius, when bishop, by an outrage 
 of the Governor Andronicus. 
 
 Hermes Trismegistus, voicing the pride that went with the 
 magical wing of Neo-Platonism, the pride of being able to force the 
 gods (dvaynd^iv is lamblichus' word), writes thus: "Marvellous 
 beyond all marvels is it that man could discover the divine nature 
 and make it... .Calling forth the souls of demons and angels they 
 have installed them in holy images and divine mysteries, whereby 
 the idols have the power of doing good and doing harm " (Ed. Bipont. 
 Apul. ii. p. 32 1) 1 . 
 
 Synesius is humbler. " Precious among creatures is man ; 
 precious in that for him Christ was crucified" (Ep. 57, 1388 c). 
 It is not an idle question of Augustine when he is writing of the 
 Neo-Platonists. "Where," he demands, "where is that charity 
 that edifieth on the foundation of humility, which is Christ Jesus ? " 
 (Conf. vii. 20, 26). 
 
 It is here that the Christian Church and the Neo-Platonists 
 most fundamentally differ, and this must be realized if we are to 
 appreciate Synesius. Otherwise we shall be liable to error, for his 
 
 1 On this remarkable utterance, see Augustine, C. D. viii. 23, 24 quasi quid- 
 quam sit infelicius homine, cui sua figmenta dominantur! The confusion of the 
 Bipontine text dates from the days of St Augustine, who avails himself of it to 
 make a point one feels would have been impossible but for the Latin translator 
 from Hermes' original Greek.
 
 Synesius 349 
 
 terminology is always Neo-Platonic, and many of his views too are 
 not yet re-adjusted to the new position. Some have thought that 
 because in an hour of trouble he sought comfort in "philosophy," he 
 was harking back to Neo-Platonism, but this is a mistake. He 
 merely means reflexion '. 
 
 In 409 the bishopric of Ptolemais, now and for some time pre- 
 viously the chief town of the Cyrenaica, became vacant by the death 
 of the bishop. In electing bishops the laity still had a voice which 
 was often very effective They did not necessarily confine them- 
 selves to men already ordained, but looked about for some man of 
 proved capability, who by wealth, birth, position, influence or 
 experience would be likely to make a good administrator and a 
 protector of the people. It was thus that in Milan Ambrose was 
 most unexpectedly consecrated, and that in Constantinople Nectarius, 
 Chrysostom's predecessor, was forcibly seized by the people and 
 made bishop. Nothing need be said of Ambrose, but Nectarius 
 was a worldly-minded man who liked to enjoy life. Ordination 
 cannot have been regarded with much respect, when it was beginning 
 already to be used as a method of punishing and reducing to 
 obscurity men who had been politically troublesome. How secular 
 might be the considerations which led to the choice of a bishop, 
 we can see in Synesius' letters. In one see under his charge, the 
 people revolted from a gentle old bishop because he was ineffectual, 
 and set up a more drastic person, as they needed a man of energy 
 and resource. But when the laity chose Synesius for Ptolemais, 
 beside the reflexion that he was able, active and brilliant and had 
 strong connexions in Constantinople and Egypt, we may surely 
 credit them with some appreciation of his kindness, his honour and 
 his piety. 
 
 The proposal was most unwelcome to him, but he had to con- 
 sider it. A short abstract of a letter (Ep. 105) which he wrote to 
 his brother will shew his feelings. 
 
 "The episcopate is a compliment, but am I fit for it? I think, 
 very unfit. I will tell you, for I have no one else. I know you will 
 be anxious for my good. Philosophy is all I am equal to. In 
 serious things I go my own way, but I also like amusement. Now 
 a bishop should be as able to do without amusement as God is. 
 And in serious and sacred things he cannot go his own way and be 
 independent, but must belong to everybody and teach what is 
 
 1 It may be noted that in the earlier works written after his conversion, 
 Augustine as a rule uses philosophic rather than Christian terminology.
 
 350 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 recognized. He must be a man of affairs, able at once to undertake 
 endless business and maintain his spiritual life. For myself, I feel 
 it pollution even to go into the town 1 . A bishop should be stainless 
 as he has to wash others of their sins, but my own sins are too 
 much for me. 
 
 "As I know you will shew this letter to others, I will be explicit, 
 that I may be clear of guilt before God and man, and before Theo- 
 philus. I am married. God and the law and the sacred hand of 
 Theophilus gave me my wife, and I do not wish to part from her at 
 all*. Further, philosophy is opposed to many current dogmata. 
 (a) I do not think the soul is made after the body, (b) nor that the world 
 and all its parts will be destroyed, (c) The resurrection as preached 
 I count a sacred mystery and am far from accepting the general idea. 
 (d) To conceal the truth is philosophically sound. Too much truth 
 and too much light are dangerous at times 3 . I cannot obscure these 
 opinions now, as I cannot be ordained to God's service and fail in 
 truthfulness by concealing my real thoughts. 
 
 "I shall be sorry to give up sports. (My poor dogs!) But 
 I will; and I will endure business, as a means of doing service to 
 God. But my mind and my tongue must not be at variance. 
 Theophilus must know all, so that he may either leave me in peace 
 as a philosopher or, if he chooses to ordain me, may be unable 
 to rule me out ,of the choir of bishops. If he accepts my terms, 
 I will be bishop, for one must be ready to obey God with a good 
 will." 
 
 The weight in this letter falls on the tenets which Syuesius says 
 are contrary to the usual faith of Christians. They certainly lean 
 toward Neo-Platonism. The eternity of the universe is strongly 
 insisted on by Macrobius, Hermes Trismegistus and Julian for 
 example. The resurrection was repugnant to the school in conse- 
 quence of their views on matter. If the essence of the higher life, 
 the divine life, is to escape matter, how should matter be raised 
 hereafter to be again a fetter on the soul ? On the Neo-Platonist 
 hypothesis the resurrection of the body was an absurdity. But 
 
 1 Cf. Augustine, Ep. x. 2 Nisi proveniat quacdam manna cessatio, sinccrum 
 illud bonum gustare atque amare non possum. Magna secessione a tumultu rerum 
 labentium, mihi crede, opus est. Like Synesius, Augustine had to surrender this 
 life for that of activity. 
 
 2 We are not told the decision about his wife, but it is thought she may have 
 solved the difficulty by withdrawing from him voluntarily. This separation 
 may have contributed to his depression when bishop. 
 
 3 This line is taken by Augustine, de Mor. Eccl. Cath. vii. 11, who remedies 
 the excessive light of divine things by the opacitas auctoritatis.
 
 Synesius 351 
 
 Volkmann brings out that these views, which Synesius professes, he 
 does not emphasize so much because they were Neo-Platonic as 
 because they were the views of Origen, against which Theophilus 
 had started a terrible campaign involving the downfall and exile of 
 Chrysostom. Synesius does not want that fate and does want to be 
 open. 
 
 In the light of all this we must interpret the last of the four 
 points reasonably. VfvBfo-Oat. "to lie" is a strong word and is 
 stronger in our English than in Synesius' Greek. With other Neo- 
 Platonists he believed in retaining certain things, making mysteries 
 and esoteric doctrines of them, and he lavishes a good deal of 
 admiration on the Homeric Proteus', who put on any and every 
 sort of form to evade all but the true philosopher, Menelaus, whose 
 concern was to know the truth. Dr Hatch has shewn that this 
 temper was not unknown in the Church, where the simple rites of 
 the early Church were under its influence developed into awful 
 mysteries. 
 
 The case was referred to Theophilus, and Synesius spent seven 
 or eight months at Alexandria. What happened there we are not 
 told. He mentions incidentally that "old men" told him "God 
 would be his shepherd"; that "the Holy Spirit is joyous and gives 
 joy to those who partake of Him 2 "; that "God and the demons 
 fight for us, and that he by being consecrated would wound the 
 demons"; and that "a philosopher's consecration meant much to 
 the world V 
 
 It is clear he did not wish to be a bishop and that he anticipated 
 great trouble in the discharge of the office. His fears were amply 
 realized. Cyrene received as Governor "a man from the tunny- 
 fisheries," Andronicus by name, an extortionate, rapacious and 
 vicious man. The people turned for help to their bishop. He had 
 just lost a child and was crushed with sorrow. If he says "he 
 could have done himself a mischief," we need not suppose he really 
 contemplated suicide, as some have surprisingly concluded. Here 
 as elsewhere he merely uses a rather vivid style of speech. He now 
 
 1 Augustine similarly makes Proteus a parable of truth. Contra Academicos, 
 iii. 6, 13 Veritatis, inquam, Proteus in carminibus ostentat swstinetque pcrsonam, 
 quam obtinere nemo potest, sifalsis imaginibus deceptus comprehensionis nodos vel 
 laxaverit vel diminerit. 
 
 - Cf. Augustine, Con/, viii. 11, 27, on the gladness of Christianity, non 
 dissolute hilaris. 
 
 3 Thus Augustine on the conversion of the great rhetorician Victorinus 
 speaks of the importance of winning men of note, quod multis noti multis sunt 
 auctoritati ad salutem et multis praeeunt secuturis (Conf, viii. 4, 9).
 
 352 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 tried to do something to mitigate the Governor's violence, but only 
 met insult. He found himself powerless and felt that others realized 
 it and regretted their election of him. Overwhelmed with pain at 
 his bereavement and mortification at his failure, he had recourse to 
 prayer, but "here was the worst of his misfortunes which made his 
 life seem hopeless; in the past he had always found God in prayer, 
 but now he felt he prayed in vain." Once again, I think, his 
 language has been forced to mean too much. He was essentially 
 a man influenced by feelings, and whatever he feels he says freely 
 very much resembling Cicero in his sensibility and outspokenness 
 and it seems to me unfair to infer from such an utterance that his 
 Christianity broke down. Andronicus went further. He nailed a 
 notice to the church door that he would not recognize the asylum 
 of the church, and when Synesius ran in the full heat of noon to sit 
 by a man he was torturing, he raged at the sight of the bishop and 
 crowned his madness with the boast, that none should escape 
 Andronicus' hands though he clung to the feet of Christ Himself. 
 Now Synesius called a synod together and excommunicated him, 
 and in an address (printed among his letters as no. 57) makes an 
 apologia pro vita sua, an honourable and affecting defence. To it 
 he appended the sentence of excommunication to be forwarded to 
 all bishops with an account of Andronicus' guilt. The villain gave 
 way, begged for a second chance, received it and abused it, and the 
 bolt was launched, and before long Synesius had to come forward to 
 rescue him from injustice. 
 
 The barbarians, Macetae and Ausurians, continued their inroads. 
 On two occasions effective generals were sent against them on short 
 campaigns, but in the interval they grew so bold as to besiege 
 Ptolemais. 
 
 Within two years Synesius lost his two remaining children. He 
 writes to Hypatia about them in deep depression. "The memory of 
 my departed children is wasting me away. . . . Might I cease either to 
 live or to remember my boys' grave!" (Ep. 16). 
 
 Yet I think the Cyrenians must have counted him a good and 
 a wise bishop. As one reads his letters telling Theophilus of his 
 procedure, one feels that R. L. Stevenson's praise of his missionary 
 friend, Mr Clarke, might be applied to him "a man I esteem and 
 like to the soles of his boots ; I prefer him to anyone in Samoa and 
 to most people in the world; a real good missionary with the in- 
 estimable advantage of having grown up a layman." Tact, courtesy, 
 common sense and a remarkable absence of any feeling of his own
 
 Synesiuz 353 
 
 importance mark his actions. It looks as if the sense of his own 
 weakness and sinfulness made him more sympathetic with weak and 
 tempted men, with wrong-doers and with men of doubtful opinions. 
 One example may suffice. Two bishops had a quarrel about a little 
 fort. It was the personal property of the one, and the other stole a 
 march on him, consecrated it, and claimed it for his diocese. Some 
 held that the consecration was irrevocable and nothing could be 
 done. Synesius boldly upset it altogether. There was a proper 
 balance to be kept between the sacred laws and the rights of the 
 state. He drew a clear line between piety and superstition, the 
 vice that aped it, and held it intolerable that by the most sacred 
 things the most execrable wrong should be done and that the prayer, 
 the table and the mystical curtain sjiould be made the implements 
 of violent aggression. It was no Christian teaching [as it was Neo- 
 Platonic] that the Divine is subject to ritual word and substance, as 
 if by some physical attraction. Where anger, passion and strife 
 lead the way in an action, how can the Holy Spirit be there ? He 
 restored the fort, which he would not allow to be a church, to its 
 owner, who, now that his own rights were maintained and his 
 adversary had apologized, freely gave him the fort and the hill. 
 
 Synesius' ordination cost him some friendships, and what that 
 meant we may read iu one of his latest letters. He gently rebukes 
 Auxentius for having dragged him into a quarrel in which he was 
 not concerned. "Advancing ye'ars, I am glad to say, are dulling 
 my quick temper ; and the sacred laws, they say, forbid. At the 
 same time I remember our common upbringing and education and 
 the life in Gyrene. All this we must suppose to outweigh the suit 
 of Sabbatius. Begin then the good work of friendship, and accept 
 my good will ; for I count the time of my silence as so much loss 
 and do you realize how even then I suffered? But I bore it as well 
 as I could such is the evil of having a quick temper" (Ep. 60). 
 
 And here our story ends. The 12th letter seems to imply that 
 Theophilus is dead. He died in 412, and this is the latest date 
 that can with any certainty be assigned to any work of Synesius'. 
 Hence it has been plausibly conjectured his own death must have 
 shortly followed. There is a wild theory that Euoptius, bishop of 
 Ptolemais in 431, may have been his brother, in which case we gain 
 the information that Synesius was dead before 431. 
 
 With his death darkness falls on the history of Gyrene. 
 
 I have so far only casually alluded to his hymns, with one of which, 
 the 9th, in Mrs Browning's rendering, I close my essay. Volkmann 
 G. 23
 
 354 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 says their poetic worth is slight, and this is certainly true of some 
 of them, for their metre is very monotonous and their thought 
 abstract. 
 
 Some of the hymns are little more than metrical expositions 
 of the common doctrines of Neo-Platonism. There is a Trinity, 
 which is a Unity, a Father and a Son, linked by the "mediating 
 light of the Holy Spirit," through whom the Father is Father and 
 the Son is Son. The Son is the Wisdom that made the world. 
 Thence the choir of immortal rulers, the deathless army of angels, 
 and all the descending succession of beings. The soul has come 
 down to be on earth a servant, but enchanted by the magic arts of 
 matter it has become a slave instead of a servant, yet is not without 
 some gleam of hidden light, which even in its fallen state may help 
 it to rise. His prayer is for divine aid, particularly against distrac- 
 tion and disturbance and the confusions of the material world "let 
 the winged snake go underground, the demon of matter, the cloud 
 of the soul, that loves phantoms and hounds on its dogs against 
 prayer" "the demons that leap up from the abysses of earth and 
 breathe into mortals godless impulses." Gradually he identifies the 
 Son with the Virgin-born Christ, and finally calls him Jesus, still 
 keeping the Spirit as the "centre" of the Trinity, and still praying 
 for rest and quietness and salvation from matter and all that dis- 
 orders the soul. At times he rises to flights that seem to justify the 
 very high praise bestowed upon him by Mrs Browning, to whose 
 brilliant essay on the Greek Christian poets I would refer the 
 reader. 
 
 "He was a poet," she writes, "the chief poet, we do not hesitate 
 to record our opinion the chief, for all true and natural gifts, of all 
 our Greek Christian poets.... These odes have, in fact, a wonderful 
 rapture and ecstasy. And if we find in them the phraseology of 
 Plato or Plotinus, for he leant lovingly to the later Platonists, 
 nay, if we find in them oblique references to the out-worn mythology 
 of paganism, even so have we beheld the mixed multitude of un- 
 connected motes wheeling, rising in a great sunshine, as the sunshine 
 were a motive energy, and even so the burning, adoring poet-spirit 
 sweeps upward the motes of world-fancies (as if, being in the world, 
 their tendency was Godward), upward in a strong stream of sunny 
 light, while she rushes into the presence of 'the Alone.' We say the 
 spirit significantly in speaking of this poet's aspiration. His is an 
 ecstasy of abstract intellect, of pure spirit, cold though impetuous ; 
 the heart does not beat in it, nor is the human voice heard ; the
 
 Synesius 355 
 
 poet is true to the ecclesiastic, and there is no resurrection of the 
 body." 
 
 Well-beloved and glory-laden, 
 
 Born of Solyma's pure maiden ! 
 
 I would hymn Thee, blessed Warden, 
 
 Driving from thy Father's garden 
 
 Blinking serpent's crafty lust, 
 
 With his bruised head in the dust ! 
 
 Down Thou earnest, low as earth, 
 
 Bound to those of mortal birth ; 
 
 Down Thou earnest, low as hell, 
 
 Where shepherd-Death did tend and keep 
 
 A thousand nations like to sheep, 
 
 While weak with age old Hades fell 
 
 Shivering through his dark to view Thee, 
 
 And the Dog did backward yell 
 
 With jaws all gory to let through Thee! 
 
 So, redeeming from their pain 
 
 Choirs of disembodied ones, 
 
 Thou didst lead whom Thou didst gather, 
 
 Upward in ascent again, 
 
 With a great hymn to the Father, 
 
 Upward to the pure white thrones ! 
 
 King, the daemon tribes of air 
 
 Shuddered back to feel Thee there! 
 
 And the holy stars stood breathless, 
 
 Trembling in their chorus deathless ; 
 
 A low laughter filled aether 
 
 Harmony's most subtle sire 
 
 From the seven strings of his lyre 
 
 Stroked a measured music hither 
 
 lo paean ! victory ! 
 
 Smiled the star of morning he 
 
 Who smileth to foreshow the day ! 
 
 Smiled Hesperus the golden, 
 
 Who smileth soft for Venus gay! 
 
 While that horned glory holden 
 
 Brimful from the fount of fire, 
 
 The white moon, was leading higher 
 
 In a gentle pastoral wise 
 
 All the nightly deities! 
 
 Yea, and Titan threw abroad 
 
 The far shining of his hair 
 
 'Neath Thy footsteps holy-fair, 
 
 Owning Thee the Son of God; 
 
 The Mind artificer of all, 
 
 And his own fire's original. 
 
 232
 
 356 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 And THOU upon Thy wing of will 
 
 Mounting, Thy God-foot uptill 
 
 The neck of the blue firmament, 
 
 Soaring, didst alight content 
 
 Where the spirit-spheres were singing, 
 
 And the fount of good was springing, 
 
 In the silent heaven! 
 
 Where Time is not with his tide 
 
 Ever running, never weary, 
 
 Drawing earth-born things aside 
 
 Against the rocks : nor yet are given 
 
 The plagues death-bold that ride the dreary 
 
 Tost matter-depths. Eternity 
 
 Assumes the places which they yield! 
 
 Not aged, howsoe'er she held 
 
 Her crown from everlastingly 
 
 At once of youth, at once of eld, 
 
 While in that mansion which is hers 
 
 To God and gods she ministers ! 1 
 
 1 See Mrs Browning's poetical works, 1 vol. edition, 1898, pp. 602 605. 
 The work of Volkmann, which I have quoted, is Synesius von Gyrene, by 
 B. Volkmann, Berlin, 1869, an excellent and most useful book.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 GREEK AND EARLY CHRISTIAN NOVELS 
 
 dXX' aye /not roSe eiire nal arpeKeeo? 
 
 OTVITT] airfTr\ay^6r]s re KOI a? rivas iKeo ^<apas. 
 
 Odyssey viii. 572 
 
 No study of the fourth century would be complete which did 
 not in some degree take account of its fiction. Yet to deal with 
 it all and with precision would be an extremely difficult task. To 
 begin, a good story and every reader has his own idea of what 
 is a good story a story then that appeals to a large number of 
 readers will probably be spread abroad not merely in abundance 
 of copies but in various languages. It will be translated from one 
 tongue to another, and as it travels it will undergo alterations. 
 Passages will be added and others will be omitted. Eventually 
 when criticism takes the much travelled story into consideration, 
 widely differing recensions of it are found, and it is sometimes no 
 easy matter to say which is the original form has it been expanded 
 by a Syrian translator or cut down by a Greek ? Many of the tales 
 with which we have to deal describe an almost entirely artificial 
 world, and offer nothing beyond their style as a guide to the critic 
 who will date them, and in some cases this is hardly any help at 
 all, so that a novel like that of Longus is loosely dated as of the 
 second to the fourth century. Others conceal the date of their 
 creation of set purpose and flaunt a false one, and though the 
 falsehood may be readily detected, the true date can often only be 
 determined by long and tiresome critical processes, with the result 
 that critics come to very different conclusions. 
 
 If however we bear in mind that, while the dates of the first 
 appearances of the particular books to which we have to refer are 
 in many cases highly conjectural, these works yet represent the 
 popular taste for long after as well as before the period with which
 
 358 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 we are dealing, and that their kind, if not themselves, has profoundly 
 influenced actual productions of our period, we may without material 
 error draw some real advantage from our study. We may begin 
 by a short survey of the general lines of development of Greek 
 fiction, for though a literary pedigree may be as hard to prove 
 as a canine, no work of art of any sort can help in some measure 
 betraying the environment in which it was produced, and something 
 of the processes by which that stage has been reached. At the 
 same time the author's individuality must be recognized. To take 
 a modem example, it is quite clear that Paid and Virginia owes 
 much to Daphnis and Ckloe, and it is also clear that it owes a 
 good deal to Robinson Crusoe, the book which of all books most 
 influenced Bernardin de St Pierre from youth to age. Yet Paul 
 is agitated by questions that Daphnis never dreamt of, and which 
 he himself could hardly have dreamt of, if he had not been created 
 in the age of Rousseau, to say nothing of his creator's friendship 
 with Rousseau. Again, though the work has been pronounced to 
 be in some degree even anti-Christian in its quiet ignoring of such 
 matters as original sin and any necessity for redemption, and its 
 implication that man is born good, if only society will not corrupt 
 him, yet the difference between Paul and Daphnis, between Virginia 
 and Chloe, is not to be explained without Christianity. We thus 
 see that Longus, Defoe, Rousseau and the Catholic Church have 
 all contributed to this book, but perhaps after all we must recognize 
 that Bernardin de St Pierre contributed to it, or else we may have 
 to pronounce Shakespeare a second-hand dramatist. 
 
 We need not however write the history of literature to interpret 
 Xanthippe and Polyxena or the Life of Antony and their con- 
 temporary rivals. I would refer the reader to the admirable work 
 of Chassang, Histoire du Roman, which has been highly praised by 
 Sainte-Beuve but not too highly, and the more special monograph 
 of Erwin Rohde, Der Griechische Roman. At the same time 
 clearness will be gained by giving a very short sketch of the course 
 of development that Greek fiction has followed 1 . 
 
 We may then classify our material very roughly in some five 
 groups, premising that in many cases it will be difficult to say 
 under which heading this or that work should more properly come, 
 as the same book may share the characteristics of more than one 
 
 1 A. Chassang, Histoire du Roman dans I'Antiquite Grecque et Latine, Paris, 
 Didier, 1862; (Sainte-Beuve, Nouveaux Lundis, vol. ii.). Erwin Rohde, Der 
 Griechische Roman u. seine Vorldufer, Leipzig; Breitkopf and Hartel, 1876.
 
 Greek and Early Cliristian Novels 359 
 
 class. Our five classes may then be taken as (a) the tale of Troy 
 and cognate legends of early Greece, (b) the literary offspring of 
 Plato in two families the descendants of Atlantis and of Er the 
 Armenian, (c) the history, degenerating into the romance, of 
 Alexander, with two great subdivisions, the tale of the hero, and 
 the tale of travel, (d) the avowed love-tale, and (e) the fiction 
 with an immediate national or religious purpose. 
 
 Our first group need not detain us long, important as it is. 
 The tale of Troy and the other tales of early Greece were first 
 worked over by the tragic poets ; they were systematized by 
 collectors of mythology, and violently rationalized into history by 
 historians of the lower type, who "tortured mythology to the 
 detriment of poetry and without profit to history 1 "; they were 
 altered and abused by rhetoricians and sophists like Philostratus 
 (in his Heroicus) and the fabricators of Dares and Dictys ; they 
 were turned into pantomimes and danced all over the Roman world 
 and perhaps even outside it ; they recaptured Europe in the middle 
 ages, when Achilles and Hector disputed the popularity of Roland 
 and Arthur 2 : and finally at the revival of learning they took with 
 new life a still deeper hold on a wider world, which they yet retain. 
 
 Our second group we associate for -convenience with the name 
 of Plato. While some took Atlantis for a real country, others saw 
 more clearly that, as Strabo wittily says, "its creator destroyed 
 it just as the poet did the wall of the Greeks " (c. 102). Real 
 or imaginary, it was a fruitful example, and the seas of the world, 
 or rather the parts outside the world, were dotted with ideal 
 communities on happy islands, which alas ! fled further and further 
 away with the growth of Geography. As might be expected, 
 these lands appeared most often when the existing countries were 
 labouring under unhappy conditions. At a later day, and this is 
 more important for our present purpose, when the centre of gravity 
 in philosophy had shifted from the state to the individual, a new 
 type of Utopia displaces the old, the Utopia of happy thinkers who 
 live an ideal life of contemplation without any government at all, 
 without a state or social questions, and free from all disquieting 
 foreign or domestic policies. The book On the Contemplative 
 
 1 Chassang's phrase. See Boissier, Country of Horace and Virgil, c. iii. 1, 
 a good chapter dealing with the legend of Aeneas "falling into the hands of the 
 chroniclers and scholiasts. It had no reason to rejoice.... The learned are not 
 light-handed." 
 
 2 See Comparetti, Vergil in the Middle Ages, pt. n. c. 1, who shews Virgil's 
 share in the popularity of the story of Troy.
 
 360 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Life, attributed, though wrongly, to Philo the Jew, is an example 
 of this. It describes the Therapeutae, who lived an ascetic 
 life together in large numbers a little way out of Alexandria, so 
 successfully avoiding attention that no geographer, traveller or 
 philosopher ever found them except in the novel 
 
 The story of Er the Armenian was much derided by the 
 Epicureans, but it had a great influence. Cicero imitated it in 
 his dream of Scipio, which in its turn produced Macrobius' com- 
 mentary, a book much used in the middle ages. Plutarch twice 
 copied it in his vision of Timarchus (in the de genio Socratis) 
 and his story of the trance of Thespesius (de sera numinum vin- 
 dicta), the latter, according to Archbishop Trench, being not 
 altogether unworthy to stand beside Plato's Er 1 . How far these 
 and similar works may have influenced the authors of such Christian 
 apocalypses as those that bear the names of Peter and of Paul, 
 or whether their inspiration is to be found exclusively in the 
 Jewish thought that gave birth to such works as The Secrets 
 of Enoch and the apocalypse of Baruch, it is not for me to de- 
 termine. 
 
 Our third group is perhaps more popular. The imagination 
 of the Greek world seized on Alexander and his wars and his travels, 
 embellished the tale with the marvels of mythology and the wonders 
 of India, and in the end left very little of the real Alexander. 
 Travellers' tales confused by far-away memories of the Mahabharata 
 and the Ramayana, by misunderstood monuments of Indian art or 
 worship, by Brahmanical fables of all sorts, attached themselves 
 to Alexander, and the marvellous tale grew with every generation 2 . 
 The false Callisthenes' story of Alexander exists in some twenty 
 manuscripts with corruptions and additions of every age. Now it 
 was the Huns and now the Turks that the hero repelled. The 
 book was done into Latin, into Armenian, into Arabic and thence 
 into Syriac and Persian, into Hebrew from the Latin, into Turkish, 
 into Ethiopic from the Arabic version of the Greek, and so forth 3 . 
 Elements were borrowed from it for other tales as freely as they 
 were added to it, and it has recently been pointed out that Scottish 
 history has been enriched from this source, for it seems that Bruce's 
 speech at Baunockburn and his slaying of Bohun are " practically 
 
 1 Trench, Plutarch, p. 143. 
 
 2 Chassang, op. cit. 140. Sainte-Beuve's comment on the influence of 
 Alexander on Greek letters deserves quotation : "Le gout attique avait e"te lui 
 aussi vaincu a Cheronee" (Xouveaux Lundis, ii. p. 423). 
 
 3 E. A. Wallis Budge, Intr. to the Syriac Hist, of Alexander the Great.
 
 Greek and Early Christian Novels 361 
 
 identical, even in language, with portions of an early Scots trans- 
 lation of the old French romance of Alexander the Great." It is 
 comforting that this discovery has been made by a Scotsman 1 . - 
 
 The romance of the hero is of course older than Alexander. 
 Mankind did not wait till his day for tales of adventure, witness 
 the Odyssey, " die alteste Robinsonade." Again, the Cyropaedia is 
 a romance of a hero's education, and it is only in comparatively 
 modern times that it began to pass for history 2 . Romances por- 
 traying ideal types of character multiply with time. Cato was 
 hardly dead before his party began to canonize him. Brutus, Cicero 
 and Fadius Gallus at once wrote Catos, and Caesar had to reply 
 with an anti-Cato and set Hirtius to make another 3 . But it was 
 later and in philosophy that most of this work was done. Philo- 
 stratus' Life of Apollonius of Tyana was undertaken at the 
 command of an Empress, Julia Augusta, because the Life which 
 she had wanted literary merit. Philostratus sends Apollonius 
 everywhere, with some errors of Geography, and sets him to perform 
 miracles and expose devjls, with no regard for sense or fact. Now 
 he catches a satyr asleep 4 , now he shews a young man that his 
 sweetheart is an Empusa intent on sucking his blood. It has been 
 supposed that this work was meant to counteract the gospels, but 
 it soars away from them into a rarefied atmosphere of New Pytha- 
 goreanism, of mystic asceticism. The real contrast is with Socrates, 
 Chassang says, and not with Christ. Porphyry in a somewhat 
 similar spirit wrote a life of Pythagoras, and even in the life of 
 his own master, Plotinus, sees fit, alongside of lists of his works, 
 to introduce interviews with demons and gods called up by magic 5 . 
 This characteristic introduction of the magical into biography must 
 be remembered when we are dealing with the lives of the saints, 
 for it is not peculiar to them ; indeed it is often less noticeable 
 there than in pagan works. In some measure we may take Lucian's 
 story of the ingenious false prophet Alexander and his god re- 
 incarnated in a snake as a reaction at once against magic and 
 prophet. 
 
 1 I owe the fact to Mr Andrew Lang's review of Mr Neilson's John Barbour, 
 Poet and Translator. 
 
 ~ See Chassang's excellent chapter on this work, pp. 45 70. 
 
 3 Cicero, ad Att. xii. 45, ad Fam. vii. 24. 
 
 4 St Jerome has a satyr awake in his Life of Paul a surprisingly pious 
 one and he declares that all the world knows another was exhibited alive 
 at Alexandria in Constantius' reign (c. 8). 
 
 5 See St Augustine's criticism on Porphyry in this matter, C. D. x. 9 11.
 
 362 Life and Letters in tlie Fourth Century 
 
 The romance of travel was pushed beyond all reason till " things 
 beyond Thule " (a reference to the romance of Antonius Diogenes) 
 was a by-word for an impossible story. Ethiopians and Indians 
 and especially Brahmans were the stock-in-trade of this kind of 
 writing, along with big-eared men, dog-headed and one-eyed men, 
 who reappear in Sir John Mandeville. Lucian in his True History 
 parodies this class of fiction, naming as his great models Ctesias 
 and lambuliis, and above all "Homer's Odysseus, who is their leader 
 and teacher in this nonsense." Anticipating Jules Verne he goes 
 from the earth to the moon, and travels probably ten thousand 
 leagues under the sea, perhaps with more comfort than the French- 
 man's heroes, for he finds a large island inside a big fish. Inci- 
 dentally he reaches the Islands of the Blessed, and meets Homer 
 who writes him a poem, and Odysseus who gives him a message 
 for Calypso. There is not, as in Gulliver, any special satire against 
 society in this piece, except the general satire against " the estab- 
 lished practice of lying that marks philosophers " no doubt a fling 
 at the Utopia-makers. 
 
 Our fourth class is the love-tale. Rohde has traced its ante- 
 cedents to local legends and popular tales, treated and modified 
 by the writers of Alexandria, and preserving much of their style, 
 not without traces of oriental influences. Such " tales of Miletus " 
 were early popular and early won a bad name. It is notorious 
 how many of them were found in the loot of Crassus' camp by 
 the Parthians in 53 B.C. They continued to be written anew for 
 many centuries, sometimes in the form of letters. One of them 
 is readily accessible to the English reader in Pericles, Prince of 
 Tyre. This was originally a Greek romance', written perhaps in 
 the third century, worked over by a Latin, perhaps in the seventh, 
 who confused it, adding the story of King Antiochus which has 
 singularly little connexion with the rest, some more or less Christian 
 reflexions and some Latin riddles. It passed into the Gesta Roma- 
 iwrum, and was done into English verse by Gower and incurred the 
 censure of Chaucer : 
 
 But certainly no word ne wryteth he 
 Of thilke wikke ensample of Canace 
 That lovede hir owne brother sinfully ; 
 Of swiche cursed stories I sey " fy " ; 
 
 1 See Rohde, op. cit. iv. 3, pp. 408424.
 
 Greek and Early Christian Novels 363 
 
 Or elles of Tyro Apollonius... 
 
 Of swiche unkinde abominaciouns 
 
 Ne I wol noon reherse, if that I may 1 . 
 
 Shakespeare turns Apollonius into Pericles, but holds fairly closely 
 to the old tale's incidents. 
 
 It is a strange feature about this class of tale that, while the 
 episodes are often extremely indecent, the character of the heroine, 
 sometimes by accident only, but generally of her set design, is kept 
 stainlessly pure. She is invariably a beautiful doll, who wakens 
 the most unfortunate passions by her beauty. It may be that 
 this preservation of her chastity survives from older days before 
 the sophists and stylists took the romance in hand, days when 
 it was a tale told among the common people, with a preference 
 for bourgeois virtue, which was foreign to the goddesses and prin- 
 cesses of legend. None the less, serious people frowned on this 
 class of books, and Julian forbade his priests to read them. 
 
 Our fifth class, while still fiction, is of rather a different 
 character. I group here anecdotes, which swell into imaginary 
 episodes of history for a purpose. Josephus quotes an old tale 
 of a most friendly interview between Alexander the Great and 
 the Jewish High Priest, invented as a document to support national 
 claims. Such devices were not unknown to the Romans, and later 
 on were revived with great effects in the Donation of Constantine 
 and the False Decretals. Of course these are forgeries, but there 
 are other productions surely meriting a less severe name. There 
 is a great deal of Jewish apocalyptic writing, every book bearing 
 the name of some great worthy of the past who did not write it. 
 Their object was to justify the ways of God to men, and to explain 
 why good and evil fall to men as it seems without distinction of 
 vice and virtue, and above all why the nation, God's chosen people, 
 the righteous people, fared so ill. Enoch is made to prophesy and 
 see into things invisible in order, to encourage the writer's con- 
 temporaries to faith and courage. Antiquity was not very severe 
 as a rule in the domain of criticism, and saw nothing morally 
 questionable in attributing a document to a great name to secure 
 its reaching its goal. The book of Enoch had a wide influence 
 not only on other similar literature but on some of the New 
 Testament writers. Among the heathen, poems reputed to be by 
 Orpheus were circulated at a late date, and abundance of oracles 
 
 1 Prologue to the Man of Lawe's Tale.
 
 364 Life and Letters in tJie Fourth Century 
 
 were invented by Jew and Christian for the Sibyl, but as these are 
 in verse we perhaps need not further consider them. 
 
 These then are our five classes. They are not mutually exclusive, 
 for the Greek romance of love, as we have it to-day, has elements 
 of the romance of travel and perhaps even of the Utopia. 
 Nor are they quite comprehensive enough, for it would be hard 
 to set down in any one of them the Latin Golden Ass of Apuleius, 
 and still harder the book of Petronius Arbiter. But after all these 
 are both avowedly medleys, and parts of his work Apuleius drew, 
 he says, from Milesian tales. What of Cupid and Psyche ? Where 
 does it come ? Myth, parable or fairy tale, which is it ? 
 
 Eventually Greek romance and literature generally fell into the 
 hands of sophists and rhetoricians. We may say, this happened 
 under Roman rule, recent discoveries shewing that the erotic novel 
 as we know it was already in full bloom in the first century. 
 Rhetoric pervaded everything. Romancers, poets, emperors and 
 fathers of the Church, all are tinged with it. The sermon of the 
 Christian preacher was called by the same name as the declamation 
 of the rhetorician (komilia, logos), and indeed was modelled after 
 it 1 . East and West, Roman and Greek, felt the effects of the 
 rhetorical school. 
 
 Synesius was a great admirer of Dio Chrysostom, the prince of 
 rhetorical sophists, but he draws a distinction between his rhetorical 
 and his political declamations. In the former, he says, Dio " holds 
 his head high and gives himself airs, like the peacock turning round 
 to look at itself; he seems delighted with the charms of his discourse, 
 as if this were his only aim, as if his end were grace of expression." 
 This attitude of the peacock, acute self-consciousness, tends to spoil 
 every production of the rhetorical schools, including the novels. 
 Style is the first thing and often the last, style so overdone that 
 in the end it is deplorable. Fine phrases are stolen, pretty words 
 hunted up, scraps of poetry culled from every age of poets, and 
 all are woven together into a patchwork of preciousness 2 . The 
 
 1 See Hatch, Hibbert Lectures, no. iv. on Greek and Christian rhetoric. 
 
 2 None of the Greeks is half so successful in this style as Apuleius. Here 
 genius has lifted a style of most doubtful antecedents into a region far above 
 anything of the kind in Greek. The Golden Ax* is a triumph. Sainte-Beuve 
 is right on this against whatever odds, Nouveaux I.undis, vol. ii. p. 442. For 
 strange judgments on the school, cf. Monceaux (cited by Boissier, L'Afrique 
 Romaine, p. 246) who thinks Ap. has "the air of a Bedouin at a congress of 
 classics." Koziol, der Stil des L. Apuleius, may be consulted, especially the 
 section B (on figures). Socrates (vi. 22) says of Bp Sisinnius, \(t0t)pfi nal 
 ironjTiKas irapa/j.iyi'vffi X^eu a good description of the school and goes on to 
 say he was better to listen to than to read.
 
 GreeJc and Early Christian Novels 365 
 
 main thing is to display the author's cleverness, and he tries to 
 do this by descriptions of every kind. 
 
 Yet while they were pilfering from Homer's vocabulary, the 
 sophists never learnt why he did not describe Helen, for example, 
 though her beauty was the base of his whole story 1 . Physical 
 beauty is the outcome of a combination of a large number of 
 elements all taking effect at once. The painter can therefore repro- 
 duce it but not the poet. The poet can make a list of some or 
 all of these elements but he cannot coordinate them, nor can the 
 rhetorician do more. His list can no more produce the effect of 
 beauty, than a series of labelled and stoppered bottles, full of 
 simple chemical substances, ranged along a laboratory shelf, can 
 be said to represent some highly complicated compound of them all. 
 
 If it is not a human being, it is a scene, a landscape, that is 
 described, or the picture of one. Thus Achilles Tatius begins his 
 novel with a description of a picture of Europa and the bull. 
 "Europa's the picture ; the Phoenicians' the sea ; Sidon's the land. 
 On the land a meadow and a troop of maidens. In the sea a bull 
 was swimming, and on his back a fair maiden sat, sailing to Crete 
 on the bull. With many flowers bloomed the meadow ; with them 
 was mingled an array (phalanx) of trees and shrubs ; close together 
 the trees ; intermingled their leaves ; the branches joined their 
 leaves, and thus the thickness of the leaves was to the flowers a 
 roof. The artist had painted under the leaves the shade also ; 
 and the sun gently strayed down the meadow in patches, so far 
 as the painter opened the over-arching of the leafy foliage. The 
 whole meadow an enclosure walled about. The beds of flowers 
 grew in rows under the leaves of the shrubs, narcissus and roses 
 and myrtles. And water ran through the midst of the meadow 
 in the picture, some springing up from the earth below, some 
 poured about the flowers and the shrubs. And a field-waterer 
 had been painted with a mattock in his hand, bending over one 
 ditch and opening a way for the water." This figure is borrowed 
 from Homer (Iliad xxi. 257) as a number of verbal coincidences 
 plainly shew, and he adds the one touch of life to the picture. 
 For the rest it is conventional, and so it always is. The criticism 
 Bernardin de St Pierre passed on travellers' descriptions will do 
 for those of the sophists "they are as barren as a geographical 
 map : Hindostan resembles Europe ; there is no character in it*." 
 
 1 See Lessing, Laocoon, c. 20. 
 
 2 Arvede Barine, Bernardin de St Pierre (Engl. ed.), p. 51.
 
 366 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Compare Atalanta's cave in the Arcadian bush. There is of course 
 ivy about it, and ivy in the trees ; crocuses in the soft and deep 
 grass, and hyacinth and many other hues of flowers, not only as 
 a feast for the vision, but their fragrance seized the air around, etc. 
 Laurels there were many, and vines growing before the cave shewed 
 the labour of Atalanta ; continuous and never-failing waters, fair 
 to see and cold, to judge by touch and learn by taste, flowed 
 plenteous and ungrudging, convenient for the watering of the trees ; 
 and the spot was full of charms, making an austere and modest 
 chamber for the maiden 1 . Compare again a livelier document, 
 Synesius' letter to his brother (Ep. 114), for another scene of 
 flower and tree 2 . 
 
 Sometimes the novelists will adorn their stories with descriptions 
 of natural marvels Here is Achilles Tatius on the hippopotamus, a 
 most appropriate animal for a love-tale, but it comes in very grace- 
 fully. Charmides, a military officer, invites hero and heroine, who 
 have just been rescued by him, to inspect the beast newly killed 
 by his men. "The horse of the Nile the Egyptians call it, and 
 it is a horse (as its name implies) in regard to belly and feet, 
 except that it splits the hoof : in size about the biggest ox ; its 
 tail short and bare of hair, as the rest of its body is also : its 
 head round, not small : its cheeks like a horse's ; its nostril gaping 
 wide and breathing fiery smoke, as from a fount of fire ; its chin 
 broad as its cheek ; its mouth opens back to its eyebrows. Its 
 canine teeth are curved, in shape and place like a horse's but three 
 times the size " (iv. 2). The reader should now have no difficulty in 
 recognizing the beast. From the hippopotamus it is but a step 
 to the elephant (cc. 4, 5) and not very far to the crocodile (c. 19). 
 It will be seen that the luckless lovers are in Egypt, an almost 
 inevitable country for lovers. 
 
 Sometimes the novelist prefers magic to nature. In the love- 
 tales the magic is generally slight, an oracle perhaps at most, 
 but in lives of holy men there is plenty of it demons, enchant- 
 ments, transportations and so forth. How far Apuleius' Golden 
 Ass begins by being gently satirical only, I cannot say, but it does 
 not so end. The whole basis of the tale is magic, and if in some 
 of the episodes the author is making fun of it, he certainly had 
 to stand his trial on a charge of using magic. The heathen revival 
 of the second and third centuries was in fact largely based on 
 
 1 Aelian, V. H. xiii. 1. 2 Cited on p. 336.
 
 Greek and Early Christian Novels 367 
 
 magic a point not always realized. If comment be needed, 
 Lucian's amusing dialogue called The Lover of Falsehood may be 
 read, a beautiful collection of ghost stories and enchantments. If 
 Lucian scoffed, and the devout trembled, the rhetorician was cool, 
 and added magic to his other themes for decoration. 
 
 Descriptions of emotions delight the school. Achilles in par- 
 ticular enjoys describing their psychology explaining tears, or the 
 effect of anger on the feelings. Longus is less clever, but more 
 successful (if still rhetorical), and traces the gradual growth of love 
 in Daphnis and Chloe with great delicacy according to Sainte- 
 Beuve, but perhaps to say this one must be devoted to Paul 
 and Virginia. 
 
 Summing up then we may say that the rhetorical novelist tries 
 to capture us by his exhibitions of cleverness, his descriptions, his 
 general brilliance, but he does not move us or convince us. The 
 reason is that after all he is out of touch with life and reality. 
 His scenes are unreal and conventional, never drawn from nature, 
 but from books. His figures are unreal too dolls, puppets, 
 automata. The hero and the heroine, the gentlemanly brigand 1 , 
 the too susceptible captain, the pirate, are all lifeless, none realized. 
 They have no individuality, no distinctive character. Their only 
 motive is what their creator calls love, which is too good a name 
 for it. With every newcomer to the scene, the heroine is in fresh 
 danger. But even with this one motive or incentive, no legitimate 
 action ever takes place. There are no real consequences of any- 
 thing. Everything is chance. Sometimes an oracle, sometimes a 
 dream starts things, and then begins a wild series of mechanical 
 adventures, pirates, storms, robbers, slavery, separation, murder 
 (never real murder) and everything to harass hero, heroine and 
 reader. One thing is always certain what will happen next is 
 beyond conjecture, but in the end it will not matter, for nothing 
 ever comes of threatening danger except delay. It should not be 
 so, but " the fortuitous interference of Providence " (to quote Prof. 
 Mahaffy's Irish judge) is invariable, and hero and heroine are 
 rescued for the next mishap. " Once more," cries Xenophon's 
 heroine, "once more pirates and sea! once more am I a captive!" 
 Of course she is, and she may expect to lose her lover and follow 
 him or be pursued by him over land and sea, coming within a 
 
 1 One must however respect the best of all possible brigands those of 
 Apuleius in the Golden Ass, bk. iv. "C'est a donner envie de se faire brigand, 
 si Ton a du coeur," says Sainte-Beuve of the story of Lamachus there told.
 
 368 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 hair's-breadth of meeting him, but never achieving it till the last 
 book, when, as Rohde says, one is glad to find them accidentally 
 meeting, so that the marionettes can be laid back in the box 1 . 
 
 One consequence in literature of this general failure to be true 
 to reality is the decline of history. True, we have in Eusebius, 
 Ammianus and Socrates three admirable historians, judicious, 
 thoughtful and truthful, but perhaps the bad name of Rutinus is 
 a better index of the feeling of the day. It is very interesting 
 to see how Socrates from the first emphatically disclaims rhetoric 
 he will "give no thought to pomp of diction" (i. 1, 3) and 
 when by and by he finds out that Rufinus instead of consulting 
 evidence has been guessing (/caTao-To^a^eo-^at), he goes back over 
 his work and remodels his own first two books to bring them into 
 harmony with truth (ii. 1, 3). Jerome himself accuses Rufinus of 
 lying of saying whatever comes into his mouth (quidquid in buccam 
 venerit a much better phrase). This is exactly the mark of 
 rhetorical history, carelessness of everything but effect. The 
 anecdote triumphs over everything but the speech, for every great 
 man in history becomes a declaimer. The great defect of the 
 rhetoricians, says Chassang, is to make their heroes in their own 
 image*. Alexander the Great, Apollonius of Tyana, Pythagoras 
 are drawn as the rhetorician thinks they should have been, very 
 like himself. He inserts in their story anything that interests 
 himself or that he thinks telling. I have already alluded to 
 Porphyry's life of his teacher Plotinus, which shews history 
 degenerating into romance. The effects of this style of writing 
 are far-reaching. 
 
 That Christian writers should be influenced by their environment 
 is not surprising. They are harshly judged sometimes in our days 
 for faults they shared with heathen contemporaries : rather unjustly 
 so, for the really remarkable thing is that they are on the whole 
 so free comparatively from them, and after all they are known and 
 read because they were so free. Everybody knows Tertullian's faults, 
 and as they are not those of to-day they attract attention. How 
 many critics of Tertullian could give as good an account of Philo- 
 stratus or Porphyry or even Apuleius ? There is no comparison 
 between the men. Tertullian has many faults of style which they 
 have, but he is clean, he is serious and he is truthful. There is no one 
 
 1 Rohde, op. cit. p. 400. 
 
 2 Of. Comparetti, op. cit. pt. n.'c. 1, on the medieval transformation of Virgil 
 into a magician.
 
 Greek and Early Christian Novels 369 
 
 so terribly in earnest as he with his seriousness born of penitence, 
 but he flashes with assonance, antithesis and epigram to match 
 the most flippant. But the writers with whom we are dealing are 
 smaller men and more obscure. Yet they too, while reflecting their 
 age, are marked by the seriousness of the new view of life. 
 
 In the first place the Christian novelists, if I may so call them, 
 while they often shew the same faults as the heathen, do not shew 
 them in such excess. Their pictures of life and society are still 
 very apt to be conventional, and, if not conventional, at least 
 unreal. Their characters are often wooden and their history is 
 sadly to seek. But, whether the reader count this for better or 
 for worse, they have less of the rhetorical style, they are less self- 
 conscious in their writing, less clever. They have fewer arts and 
 do not attempt to fly so high. Secondly, they are more alive and 
 more serious. They are conscious of new motives in life, of new 
 inspiration, and it is these that as a rule have led them to write, 
 and their writing reflects the quickened spirit. 
 
 In almost every kind of literature they challenged the heathen 
 world. They had no new story of Troy, but they had a new tale 
 of truth, and Juvencus wrote about 330 his four books of Evangelic 
 History a marvellous feat. He made a harmony of the gospels 
 in Latin hexameters, in a plain honest style, wonderfully faithful 
 to the original and yet not without some poetic quality, though 
 the metre is a little monotonous Apollinaris tried the same in 
 Greek but his work did not survive. But our theme is fiction. 
 
 The romance of the hero is represented by a long list of false 
 gospels, some more or less dependent on the canonical four, but 
 all tending to embellish and decorate them with fanciful incidents 
 and other rhetorical devices. Acts of the apostles are perhaps even 
 more numerous, and these permit the interweaving of the romance 
 of travel. Not many of them but some have elements of the 
 love-tale. 
 
 I do not know the date of " the wondrous and marvellous 
 history of the glorious acts of Philip the Apostle and Evangelist." 
 It is only extant in Syriac, and was probably first written in that 
 tongue. It certainly deserves its name. Philip, in answer to his 
 sea-captain's despair, prays for a wind that shall take them from 
 Caesarea to Carthage in a day, and it comes and incidentally 
 hangs head-downward from the mast a blaspheming Jewish pas- 
 senger. "The ship was flying and going over the water like an 
 eagle in the air," and the Jew hanging by his great toes was very 
 
 G. 24
 
 370 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 uncomfortable. Philip inquires, " Now how dost thou view the 
 matter?" and the Jew's confession is so extensive that we feel 
 either he or the historian has read the apologists on the Old 
 Testament. Philip rejoiced at this conversion, and the penitent 
 is released. Arrived at Carthage Philip proceeds to find Satan, 
 " an Indian man " (i.e. a black man) on a throne, with a belt of 
 two snakes and a garland of vipers, with eyes like coals of fire, 
 and belching flame from his mouth. He is overthrown by the 
 sign of the cross, and Philip sets forth to preach. 
 
 The Acts of Thomas is a very different work, having a clear 
 purpose in its insistence on virginity and asceticism a Gnostic 
 book also written by a Syrian and therefore perhaps outside our 
 scope, though it is found in a Greek translation. We shall give 
 more attention to an original composition in Greek on Greek models 
 and of undisputed orthodoxy the Acts of Xanthippe and Polyxena. 
 
 Another group of Christian romances, while connected with 
 the tale of the hero, is perhaps rather to be classed with the Utopias. 
 The romance of hermit life begins perhaps with Antony and goes 
 on with Paul and others, and there is this distinction between it 
 and an Alexander the Great that it exhibits an ideal life which 
 all men may follow. We may all be Antonies, and the writer 
 indicates that we should if we knew what is good for us, but 
 Alexander lies beyond us. 
 
 Lastly, we may set down the apocalypses with their pictures of 
 the other world in the same class with Er the Armenian, though, 
 as I have indicated, their descent from him is very doubtful. Here 
 too we often find a special purpose beside the general moral drift 
 which marks such works. 
 
 Now that we have made our survey of Pagan and Christian fiction, 
 it will be well to concentrate our attention on one or two examples 
 of each class. The pagans will be represented by Achilles Tatius 
 because he is like most of the pagan novelists, and Longus because 
 he is unlike them. The Acts of Xanthippe and Polyxena is a 
 clear imitation of these by a Christian hand. The latter part of 
 the Gospel of Nicodemus will illustrate romance attaching itself 
 to the Gospel. The Apocalypse of Paul will shew us a link in 
 a great series of visions of hell and give us a hint of a great 
 movement, which was not merely pictured in the Life of Antony 
 but immensely promoted by it. 
 
 The story of Clitophon and Leucippe is told by Achilles Tatius 
 in eight books. The date of its composition is uncertain. Rohde
 
 Greek and Early Christian Novels 371 
 
 puts it after the beginning of the third century and before the 
 middle of the fourth. The tale is told by the hero to the author 
 whom he meets in front of the picture of Europa and the bull, 
 part of the description of which I have quoted. Clitophon, a young 
 man of Tyre, it was designed by his father, should marry his half- 
 sister, but he did not want to, and instead fell in love with his 
 cousin Leucippe from Byzantium. He wins her love by sighs and 
 other pretty manoeuvres, and a little chapter is devoted to their 
 drinking from each other's cups turn about by way of signalling 
 kisses. Ere long of course, for lovers must have adventures, they 
 fly together and take ship at Berytus for Alexandria. They meet 
 a storm, a rhetorician's storm, and are shipwrecked, reaching safety 
 at Pelusium, where they see some works of art (carefully described) 
 in a temple. They are caught by robbers and separated. Clito- 
 phon's rescue comes first, and he has to look on helplessly while 
 Leucippe is made a human sacrifice, but he finds very soon it was 
 a mere pantomime done with a collapsible dagger from a theatre. 
 Then Charmides, the commander of the soldiers who rescued them, 
 falls in love with Leucippe, who resists him, but is rendered dra- 
 matically insane by a potion given by another lover. After some 
 fighting between soldiers and natives, Clitophon gets her safely 
 away, cured by another charm. She is kidnapped again, and from 
 the deck of his ship in pursuit Clitophon sees her head cut off 
 this time it is not a theatrical dagger, and a head is cut off, though 
 of course not Leucippe's, as it turns out afterwards. He now returns 
 to Alexandria arid a rich widow falls in love with him, and carries 
 him back to Ephesus. There he finds Leucippe a slave, and 
 terrible complications follow. The widow's husband re-appears, for 
 he had not after all been drowned, and he strongly disapproves of 
 Clitophon. Melite (the lady no longer a widow) finds out about 
 Leucippe, who is assailed first by a fellow-slave and then by 
 Melite's husband but is saved from both. Prison and process, 
 escapes and entanglements now jostle one another in quick suc- 
 cession for hero and heroine, but all characters are cleared by the 
 ordeal of a miraculous fountain, which always drowns the perjurer. 
 Melite distinctly gets the better of heaven by an ingeniously 
 worded oath 1 . Clitophon and Leucippe go to Byzantium and are 
 married, and the half-sister at Tyre is also married to a man who 
 
 1 This is later on a favourite device of story-tellers. Cf. Comparetti, Vergil 
 in the Middle Ages, p. 337. 
 
 242
 
 3/2 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 early in the story had kidnapped her under the impression that she 
 was Leucippe. What more ? 
 
 Descriptions of nature, as we have seen, and discussions of 
 psychology, excursions into mythology, geography and antiquarian- 
 ism, an account of the Nile, a picture of Alexandria, speeches, 
 letters and all sorts of things embellish the tale, but hardly save 
 it from being tiresome. Achilles does not trouble heaven very 
 much, but trusts to Fortune giving him all the confusion he wants. 
 Yet at one time he has recourse to a dream to stop Clitophon's 
 marriage. And after all, when once the half-sister was kidnapped, 
 everything was clear and there need have been no elopement, but 
 in that case there would have been no tale. 
 
 Suidas says this man Achilles became a Christian and was 
 made a bishop, but critics find in this a mere imitation of the 
 similar tale about Heliodorus. Socrates says, people said that 
 Heliodorus, bishop of Tricca, was the author of the romance Aethio- 
 pica it was a mere story which he quoted. Heliodorus says of 
 himself that he was a Phoenician of Emesa, a descendant of the 
 Sun, and Rohde rather associates him with the revival of Neo- 
 Pythagoreanism and the Syrian dynasty in the early years of the 
 third century. Neither he nor Achilles is to be credited with 
 a bishopric. 
 
 The romance of Longus 1 depends for its charm on quiet country 
 life with no foreign adventures. True there are one or two raids 
 upon the peaceful scene, but heaven interposes some miracles and 
 all is restored to be as it was. I do not know that the story 
 would be affected, except perhaps in length, by the complete omis- 
 sion of these episodes. 
 
 It is a tale of two children, a boy and a girl, exposed as infants 
 by their parents and miraculously preserved. This does not seem 
 a very probable beginning for a tale, but it is more probable than 
 it seems. One of the things that distinguished Christians from 
 pagans was, according to the apologists, that they did not expose 
 their children. Tertullian tells a horrible story of one actual case 
 among heathens. The reason in Longus' case for using this artifice 
 was to give a conclusion of wealth and splendour to his tale, and 
 to introduce a momentary doubt as to whether Daphnis, recognized 
 
 1 See Sainte-Beuve's essay in Nouveaux Lundis, vol. iv. He quotes Villemain 
 and Goethe as types of the severe and the appreciative critics of Longus, leaning 
 himself to admiration, as he is perhaps apt to do, but not failing to remark 
 some necessary deductions.
 
 Greek and Early Christian Novels 373 
 
 as a rich man's son, would still care to marry Chloe. Dio Chry- 
 sostom, in his Euboicus, draws a picture of the happy life and 
 contented poverty of two families of hunters in the wild lands of 
 Euboea, but for a romance one wants a more triumphant ending 
 than for a political or social parable. 
 
 The chief interest of Longus' novel lies in the idealization of the 
 love of a boy and girl growing up together among goats and sheep 
 in the happy worship of Pan and the nymphs. There are points 
 that strike a modern reader oddly, as for instance Chloe's failure 
 to remark the existence of such a thing as an echo till she was 
 about fourteen. They both are too surprisingly innocent to be 
 convincing, and here it is that Longus shews himself unmistakably 
 of the family of Priapus by an exaggerated and impossible naivete. 
 Longus is at last disgusting, where Saint-Pierre is beautiful. But 
 if we take episodes out of the story and concentrate attention on 
 them as some of its admirers have done, we get a more happy 
 impression. For like the other Greek novels this one breaks up 
 easily into a series of more or less independent scenes, which could 
 be rearranged, added to or lessened without material import. These 
 better scenes then, taken by themselves, are pleasing, but they 
 are not simple, and though nearer nature than anything else in 
 Greek fiction, it is nature drawn by a rhetorician, a man of more 
 taste than his class but still a rhetorician. 
 
 Chloe is first to fall in love, as is Virginia in the French novel. 
 She sees Daphnis bathing. " What it was she suffered, she knew 
 not, being but a young maid, bred in the country and one that 
 had never heard tell of the name of love. Sickness seized her 
 soul, and she was not mistress of her eyes, and much she talked 
 of Daphnis. Her meat she neglected ; by night she waked ; her 
 flock she despised ; now she would laugh ; now she would weep ; 
 then she would sleep ; then she would start up ; her face was pale, 
 and again it flamed with a blush ; nor would a cow stung by a 
 gadfly behave as Chloe did." 
 
 Daphnis and a shepherd boy called Dorco dispute as to their 
 comparative charms, and Chloe awards the prize, a kiss, to Daphnis, 
 who falls in love with her and does not understand it. Here is 
 his soliloquy. 
 
 "What can it be that Chloe's kiss does to me? Lips softer 
 than roses and a mouth sweeter than honey-combs ; but the kiss 
 than the sting of a bee more painful. Oft have I kissed kids, oft 
 have I kissed puppies newly born and the calf Dorco gave me.
 
 374 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 But this kiss is strange ; my breath leaps, my heart pants, my 
 soul melts, and yet I would kiss again. evil victory ! strange 
 disease ! whose very name I know not. Then did Cliloe taste 
 of drugs ere she kissed me ? how then did she not die ? How do 
 the nightingales sing, and my pipe is silent ! How do the kids 
 leap, and I sit still ! how do the flowers bloom, and I weave no 
 garlands ! but the violets and the hyacinth flower, and Daphnis 
 withers. Then will Dorco seem more comely than I ?" 
 
 All this is artificial in the highest degree, thoroughly rhetorical 
 in every way. It is literary rather than spontaneous. The writer 
 has read Theocritus and thinks of him, but his work is not Theo- 
 critean, for he has been infected with the arts of the school. Here 
 is the series of little sentences, word by word exactly balancing ; 
 antithesis ; apostrophe and abundance of echoes and false conceits. 
 Let us try something better. 
 
 Winter came on and there was no more pasture in the open, 
 but all the country folk were kept about their homes and farm 
 buildings, so Daphnis and Chloe could not meet. Chloe was being 
 taught to dress wool and use the spindle, but Daphnis had no such 
 work to do and devised a plan to see her. 
 
 " Before the farmhouse of Dryas [her foster-father] and just 
 under it were two tall myrtles and ivy upon them. The myrtles 
 were near each other, the ivy between them, so that reaching its 
 tendrils to both like a vine, it made an appearance of a cave with 
 the alternating leaves ; and clusters of ivy berries, many and big 
 as grapes, hung from the branches. Round about them was a 
 great swarm of winter birds, for food without failed many a 
 blackbird, many a thrush, and wood-pigeons, and starlings, and all 
 other birds that eat ivy-berries. On pretence of catching these 
 birds Daphnis set forth after filling his wallet with honey-cakes 
 and taking bird-lime and snares as a pledge of his purpose. The 
 distance was not more than ten stades, but the snow not yet 
 melted gave him much trouble. But to love after all everything 
 is an open way, fire and water and Scythian snow. 
 
 "He comes then at a run to the farm, and shaking the snow 
 from his legs he set his snares, and the bird-lime he smeared on 
 many twigs, and then sat down thinking of the birds and of Chloe. 
 But birds came in large numbers and were caught in plenty, so 
 that he had no end of trouble in gathering them, killing them and 
 plucking their feathers. But from the farm no one came out, not 
 man, not woman, not domestic fowl, but all abode lying by the fire
 
 Greek and Early Christian Novels 375 
 
 within, so that Daphnis was in sore straits, thinking they were 
 not lucky birds that gave him the omen to come (a pun, OVK lir 
 alo-tots opnai). And he tried to gather courage to enter the doors 
 with some excuse and sought in himself what would be most 
 plausible. ' I came to get fire ; but were there not neighbours but 
 a stade away ? I came to ask loaves ; but the wallet is full of 
 food. I need wine ; but it was yesterday or the day before you 
 gathered the vintage. A wolf was chasing me ; but where are the 
 wolf's footprints ? I came to catch birds ; why then, when you 
 have caught them, do you not go away ? I wish to see Chloe ; 
 but who confesses this to the father and mother of a maiden ? 
 Every approach is vain ; none of these but is suspicious. Better 
 then be silent. I shall see Chloe in the spring, since it is 
 not fated, so it seems, I should see her in the winter.' With 
 some such thought in his mind he gathered up what he had 
 caught and started to go ; and, as if Love pitied him, this 
 befell. 
 
 "Dryas and his household were sitting at table; meat had 
 been divided, loaves were set before them, wine was being mixed. 
 One of the sheep-dogs, watching for an unguarded moment, snatched 
 a piece of meat and fled through the doors. In vexation Dryas 
 (for it was his portion) caught up a stick and ran after him, 
 tracking him like another dog ; and as he pursued and came to 
 the ivy, he sees Daphnis with his booty on his shoulders and ready 
 to depart. Meat and dog at once he forgot, and with a great 
 shout, 'Welcome, my boy/ he began to embrace and kiss him 
 and took him by the hand and led him in. When they saw each 
 other they all but fell to the earth, but making an effort to 
 stand upright they greeted and kissed each other, and this was 
 as it were a prop that they should not fall. 
 
 " So Daphnis, after giving up hope, had a kiss and had Chloe, 
 and sat near the fire and put from his shoulders on to the table 
 his burden of wood-pigeons and blackbirds, and told how he grew 
 weary of staying at home and went out to catch them, and how 
 he took some of them with snares and some with bird-lime in their 
 greed for the myrtles and the ivy. And they praised his energy 
 and bade him eat of what the dog had left them. And they 
 bade Chloe pour wine to drink. And she in gladness gave to 
 the others and to Daphuis after the others ; for she pretended to 
 be angry, because he came and was about to go without seeing 
 her. However before giving it to him she took a sip, and then
 
 376 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 gave to him. And he though thirsty drank slowly, to have a 
 longer pleasure by delay." 
 
 The author's failure is a moral one. At the end comes the 
 general recognition and no one seems to attach much blame to 
 the parents, who cast out their children because they had too many 
 or were ill off for money. The general ignoring of evil of a gross 
 kind shews how the rhetorician had fallen into that stage where 
 evil results in insensibility. 
 
 Let us now turn to Xanthippe and Polyxena, a book I incline 
 to attribute to the fourth century, though the first scholar to print 
 it, Dr M. R James, says it may belong to the third. The story of 
 the victory by the cross' aid seems to suggest Constantine. It is 
 the insigne lignum of triumph. The careful adhesion to "the 
 straight and true faith " and the various theological expressions of 
 it, though they do not refer to Arianism and its distinctive 
 doctrines, yet suggest the great council. Some of the phrases 
 describing other things also point to the later date 
 
 The tale, as Dr James shews, borrows hints from a number of 
 others, but it hangs together very well, if we once grant that each 
 of the heroines has her own story. We do not hear of Polyxena 
 till chapter 22 and then we hear little more of Xanthippe. There 
 is about both parts a bright air, a spirit of cheerfulness and faith. 
 The author cannot forget the goodness of God, His mercy and 
 His eagerness for the redemption of the sinful, His providence 
 and care for those who serve Him. This last quite replaces the 
 Fortune of the heathen novelists. At every stage the right man 
 appears not by accident but by divine instruction and guidance. 
 The writer is like his heroine Xanthippe. " I wish to be silent, 
 but I am compelled to speak, for one within me is fire and sweetness 
 to me 1 ." And now a short sketch of the book. 
 
 Probus is an official in Spain, a friend of Nero (though his 
 name suggests the 4th century), an honourable man, very fond 
 of his wife Xanthippe, though apt to be irritated by her abstraction 
 and her sometimes rather hysterical piety. His wife, an anima 
 naturctliter Christiana, hears of Paul's preaching in Rome and 
 longs for more knowledge of the Gospel. She is much disturbed, 
 to her husband's alarm, but after uttering some prayers, a little too 
 nearly Christian for a heathen, she sees and hears Paul. The 
 apostle is their guest and is heard joyfully by his hostess, who 
 
 1 c. 14 (pXtyei yap (^ TIS evuOev /cat y\vKa.lvei.
 
 Greek and Early Christian Novels 377 
 
 has already "the sun of righteousness in her heart." The host 
 after a while is worried by the crowds who come to hear Paul, 
 and, indignant at "my house being made an inn," turns him out, 
 and locks up his wife. She bribes the porter, visits Paul and is 
 baptized, and on her return home has a vision of Christ preceded 
 by a cross on the east wall of the room. But when she saw His 
 face, she hid her own, crying, " Hide thyself, Master, from my 
 bodily eyes and enlighten my understanding." He vanishes, and 
 overcome by a speechless gratitude she faints the result of her 
 fasting and watching and the vision. Meantime Probus has had 
 a dream which turns him toward the faith, and he and his wife 
 visit Paul, Probus being greatly impressed by her humility, which 
 was rather a new virtue in her. He is baptized, and after a 
 curious incident in which Xanthippe iu a rage stabs a supposed 
 dancer (really a devil) in the face, their story gives place to that 
 of her sister Polyxena. 
 
 The story of Polyxena much more closely resembles those of 
 the Greek novels. Probus' house is entered by a man by means of 
 magical arts, and Polyxena is kidnapped. The captor puts her on 
 shipboard to sail to Babylonia. On the way they pass a ship taking 
 St Peter to Rome to overthrow Simon Magus (a fragment of an old 
 story), and Peter by divine warning is bidden pray for a soul in 
 distress on the ship from the west, i.e. Polyxena. They land in 
 Greece and meet Philip the evangelist, who rescues Polyxena and 
 entrusts her to a disciple. The kidnapper gets an army of 8000- 
 men from a friend of his, a Count (KO^S), to recapture her. She 
 flies, and her late host's thirty servants raising the sign of the cross 
 slay 5000 of the Count's army and return hymning God. Polyxena 
 takes refuge in a lioness' den a hollow tree in a dense forest. The 
 lioness however is friendly and guides her to a high road, where 
 St Andrew finds her. She asks for baptism, and at the water they 
 meet a Jewish girl Rebecca, and both maidens are at once baptized, 
 for the lioness reappears and in a human voice bids instruct them 
 in the true faith. Andrew leaves them, for it was not revealed to 
 him that he should go with them. A man driving asses, who has 
 sold his property and makes a mission of feeding the poor, of course 
 a Christian, undertakes to bring the two girls to the sea-shore and 
 aid them to escape to Spain. But they are carried off by a magis- 
 trate. The ass-driver tells Philip, who trusts that heaven will 
 preserve them. Once more Rebecca is seized and laments, like 
 Xenophon's heroine, "Again am I a captive." The magistrate's son
 
 378 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 is a Christian, converted by Paul and Thecla at Antioch, and he 
 befriends Polyxena. In a rage his father exposes him and her to a 
 lioness, who proves to be the old friend. This causes a great 
 sensation and the magistrate is converted. Onesimus (the teller of 
 the tale) appears and preaches, and everybody there is converted. 
 Polyxena and Rebecca are sent safely back to Spain, where they are 
 welcomed warmly by Xanthippe, Probus and Paul. The kidnapper 
 reappears also, but he too is converted. So all ends happily. 
 
 It will be recognized that there is much here very like the 
 Greek novel kidnappings, surprising deliverances, magic and the 
 wonderful lioness. The last suggests Androcles, but is probably a 
 combination of the beasts that will not destroy Thecla (in the Acts 
 of Paul and Thecla} and the speaking ass "descended from 
 Balaam's" (in the Acts of Thomas). There is however a clear 
 difference between this Christian work and the heathen models, for 
 the heroine's virginity is the expression of a definite faith and 
 service, and also there is nothing in the tale that could be called 
 foul, as there is in every (or nearly every) Greek novel. In all 
 probability the book was designed to supplant such stories. It was 
 not the first Christian novel to borrow a framework from the enemy. 
 The Clementine Homilies lie outside our present scope, but a word or 
 two may be given them. They form one of the most interesting 
 books of early Christianity, for they are in reality an early attack on 
 Paulinism, and Baur and his school have tried to find in them a 
 true presentation of Christianity properly so called. Peter is their 
 hero and Clement is (one may say) his squire, and together they 
 hunt down Simon Magus and other heathen antagonists. To give 
 the story a flavour of life, Clement is represented as in search of his 
 family, who are all scattered by a series of accidents recalling the 
 Greek novel, and who are all found again by the help of Peter and 
 Providence. 
 
 From Xanthippe and Polyxena we pass to a work of more 
 importance a work of genius. It is now embedded in the so-called 
 Gospel of Nicodemus, a 13th century title for a combination of two 
 much older books, the Acts of Pilate and the Descent into Hell. 
 The former is a rather tiresome expansion of the Gospel narrative of 
 the Crucifixion, resulting in the "whitewashing" of Pilate to some 
 extent, and the latter is attached to it by a very simple device. 
 Two of the dead, who were raised from their graves in the com- 
 motion following the Crucifixion, are called on to give an account 
 of what happened. "They said to the chief priests, Give us paper
 
 Greek and Early Christian Novels 379 
 
 and ink and pen. They brought them, and sitting down one of 
 them wrote as follows." Here is given the second work, which 
 I will quote in part, taking the Greek text of Thilo. This story is 
 dated somewhere about or a little after the year 400; Maury, 
 followed by Renan, placing it between 405 and 420. Tischendorf 
 puts it a good deal earlier. Chassang compares its opening to 
 Virgil's 
 
 Di quibus imperium est animarum umbraeque silentes, 
 et Chaos et Phlegethon, loca node tacentia late, 
 sit mihi fas audita loqui, sit numine vestro 
 pandere res alta terra et caligine mersas. 
 
 (Aen. vi. 264 1) 
 
 "Lord Jesus Christ, the resurrection and the life of the world, 
 give us grace that we may tell of thy resurrection and the marvels 
 thou didst work in Hades. We then were in Hades with all that 
 have slept from the beginning, and in the hour of midnight into 
 that darkness dawned as it were the light of the sun and shone, 
 and we were all enlightened and saw one another." Adam and 
 Isaiah recognize the light as prophesied, and then comes John, 
 "an ascetic from the desert," once more to be forerunner of Christ. 
 Adam and Seth contribute their testimony, and "the patriarchs 
 and the prophets rejoiced greatly." 
 
 "And while they thus rejoiced, came Satan, heir of darkness, 
 and saith to Hades, 'All-devouring and insatiate, hear my words. 
 A certain man of the race of the Jews, called Jesus, naming himself 
 Son of God, he being in fact a man, through my aid the Jews 
 crucified him. And now that he is dead, be thou ready that we 
 may hold him fast. For I know that he is a man, and I heard him 
 say 'My soul is exceeding sorrowful unto death.' He did me 
 much evil in the world above when he lived among men ; for where- 
 ever he found my servants he drove them out, and as many men as 
 I made maimed, blind, lame, leprous or any such thing, by a word 
 alone he healed them. And when I had made many ready to be 
 buried, these too he brought to life by a word.' Then Hades saith, 
 'And is he so mighty as to do all this by a word? And how canst 
 thou resist him if he is such?'" Hades doubts the wisdom of 
 
 1 An almost contemporary parallel would be Claudian's overture to his Rape 
 of Proserpine (R. P. i. 20) di quibus innumerum vacui famulatur Averni \ vulgus 
 iners vos mihi sacrarum penetralia pandite rerum, etc. His account of Pros- 
 erpine's descent into hell (ii. 326 f.) has one or two coincidences with this book 
 pallida laetatur regio rumpunt insoliti tenebrosa silentia cantus aeternam 
 patitur rarescere noctem, but with a few such phrases the likeness ends.
 
 380 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 Satan's bringing him. '"And this I say to thee, by the darkness we 
 have, that if thou bring him here, none of the dead will be left me.' 
 
 " As thus Satan and Hades talked one with the other, there was 
 a great voice as thunder that said, 'Open your gates, ye rulers, and 
 be ye lifted up, ye everlasting gates, and the king of glory shall 
 come in.' And when Hades heard, he saith to Satan, 'Go forth, if 
 thou canst, and withstand him.' So Satan went out. Then saith 
 Hades to his demons, 'Make fast well and strongly the gates of 
 brass and the bars of iron, and hold my barriers, and watch, standing 
 all of you erect; for if he enter here, woe shall overtake us.' When 
 they heard this the forefathers all began to mock him ; ' All- 
 devouring and insatiate Hades, open, that the king of glory may 
 come in '...And when Hades heard the voice the second time, as if 
 he knew not, he answered and said, 'Who is this king of glory?' 
 The angels of the Lord say, 'A Lord strong and mighty, a Lord 
 mighty in war.' And immediately at this word the gates of brass 
 were broken, and the iron bars were shattered, and all the bounden 
 dead were loosed from their bonds and we with them. And the 
 king of glory came in, as it were a man, and all the dark places of 
 Hades were enlightened." 
 
 Hades recognizes in the conqueror the Jesus who was nailed to 
 the cross, and the arch-satrap Satan is bound in iron and delivered 
 to Hades to be kept till the second coming not without the taunts 
 of Hades himself. 
 
 "The king of glory stretched forth his right hand, and laid hold 
 of our forefather Adam, and raised him up. Then he turned and to 
 the rest he said, ' Come ye with me, all ye who have been slain by 
 the tree of wood this man touched, for behold! again by the wood 
 of the cross I raise you all up.' And with this he put them forth. 
 And our forefather Adam was filled with sweetness and he said, 
 'I give thanks unto thy majesty, Lord, that thou hast brought 
 me up from the lowest Hades.' So did all the prophets and the 
 saints, and said, ' We give thee thanks, Christ, the Saviour of the 
 universe, that thou hast brought up our life from destruction.' 
 While thus they spake, the Saviour blessed Adam on the brow with 
 the sign of the cross, and this he did to the patriarchs and prophets 
 and martyrs and forefathers, and he took them and leapt forth from 
 Hades. And as he went, the holy fathers followed and sang, 
 'Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord; Alleluia! this 
 is the glory of all the saints.' 
 
 " And as he entered into Paradise, holding our forefather Adam
 
 Greek and Early Christian Novels 381 
 
 by the hand, he gave him and all the righteous to the archangel 
 Michael. As they entered in at the door of Paradise, there met them 
 two old men, to whom the holy fathers said, ' Who are ye, who saw 
 not death nor descended into Hades, but in your bodies and souls 
 inhabit Paradise?' And one of them answered and said, 'I am 
 Enoch, who pleased God and was translated by him, and this is 
 Elijah the Tishbite ; and we shall live till the end of the world, and 
 then shall we be sent of God to resist Antichrist, and be slain by 
 him, and after three days rise and be caught up to the clouds to 
 meet the Lord.' 
 
 "And as thus they spake, there came another, a mean man, 
 bearing upon his shoulders a cross, to whom the holy fathers said, 
 ' Who art thou, that hast the look of a thief, and what the cross thou 
 bearest on thy shoulders?' He answered, 'I was, as ye see, a thief 
 and a robber in the world, and therefore for this the Jews delivered 
 me to the death of the cross with our Lord Jesus Christ. As he 
 hung on the cross, I saw the signs that befell, and I cried to him and 
 said; Lord, when thou art king, forget not me. And immediately 
 he said to me ; Verily, verily, to-day, I say unto thee, with me shalt 
 thou be in Paradise. So bearing my cross I came to Paradise and 
 found the archangel Michael and said to him ; Our Lord Jesus the 
 crucified sent me hither; bring me in at the gate of Eden. And 
 when the fiery sword saw the sign of the cross, it opened to me, and 
 I came in. Then said the Archangel to me : Wait a little, for there 
 cometh Adam the forefather of the race with the just, that they too 
 may enter in. And when I saw you 1 came to meet you.' When 
 they heard this, the saints cried with a loud voice, 'Great is our 
 Lord and great is his might.' 
 
 "All this we two brothers saw and heard." 
 
 This story is not the creation of the fourth century, and perhaps 
 even this rendering of it is older, but that it was in the minds of 
 men is shewn by the hymns of Ephraem the Syrian, of Prudentius 
 and of Synesius 1 , if by nothing else. There is a vigour about this 
 piece and an imagination, which rise to higher levels than the Greek 
 world dared now to attempt. And yet there is still to be felt in it 
 that quiet happiness, which Augustine recognized as the mark of the 
 Church 2 . There is no exaggeration, no rhetoric, but the work is as 
 simple as it is sublime. 
 
 1 Prudentius, Cath. ix. 70 105; Synesius, Hymn ix. the translation of 
 which by Mrs Browning is quoted on p. 355; Ephraem, Carmina Nisibena, 
 xxxvi. 11, 12. 
 
 2 Con/, viii. 11, 27 non dissolute hilaris.
 
 382 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 We pass now to a book intrinsically of less interest but yet 
 one which, Dr James says 1 , has left traces of its influence in nearly 
 all the medieval apocalypses and even in Dante's Divina Commedia. 
 Its own account of itself is this. "A certain man of repute dwelt 
 in Tarsus in the house of the holy Paul in the consulship of the 
 pious king Theodosius and Gratian the clarissimus [in the Latin he 
 is Cynegius], and to him an angel of the Lord appeared saying, 
 'Break down the foundation of this house and take up what thou 
 shalt find.' And he thought it was a dream. But when the angel 
 continued till a third vision, the man of repute was compelled to 
 break down the foundation, and he dug and found a marble chest 
 containing this apocalypse, etc." 
 
 The historian Sozomen (vii. 19, 34) can add to this. "The 
 apocalypse of Paul the Apostle, as nowadays circulated, though none 
 of the ancients ever saw it, a great many monks praise. Some 
 maintain this book was found in the present reign. For they say 
 that by divine revelation in Tarsus of Cilicia, at the house of Paul, 
 a marble chest was found under the earth and the book was in it. 
 When I asked about it, a Cilician priest of the church in Tarsus 
 said it was a lie he was an old man too as his white hair shewed, 
 and he said he knew of nothing of the kind occurring among them, 
 and he would be astonished if it were not the invention of heretics. 
 So much about that." 
 
 Two things should be noted. A new discovery, especially if led 
 to by some miracle, is a fairly safe index of a forgery. Sozomen's 
 reference to the monks fits in well with the tone of the book. 
 We may therefore conclude it was written in the reign of the 
 younger Theodosius and one of its objects was to help mo- 
 nachism. 
 
 The feigned Paul then tells how sun, moon and sea appeal for 
 leave to destroy sinful man, but God's patience protects the race, 
 for which he is to be praised, and especially at sunset. For then 
 the angels come before God to report the works of mankind, and of 
 them all those are most joyful and most bright, who say, "We come 
 from those who have renounced the world and the things of the 
 world for thy holy name's sake, who spend their lives in deserts and 
 mountains and caves and dens of the earth, sleeping on the ground 
 and fasting Bid us be with them." Some come with sorrow "from 
 those who are called by thy name and serve sinful matter." By 
 
 1 Lecture on Apocalypse of Peter, Dec. 1892.
 
 Greek and Early Christian Novels 383 
 
 every man's death-bed stand angels, good and bad 1 , and to the 
 sinner the bad say " Unhappy soul, look to thy flesh ; know whence 
 thou comest out ; for thou must return to thy flesh on the day of 
 resurrection, to receive the reward of thy sins." An appalling 
 picture of the soul's trial follows, when, after being confronted with 
 the souls it has wronged, it is cast into outer darkness. 
 
 Paul is now taken to the city of the just, meeting Enoch and 
 other patriarchs and prophets, and seeing rivers of honey, milk, oil 
 and wine for the just who in this world abjured the use of them 
 and humbled themselves for God's sake. David too is seen, his face 
 shining as the sun, while he holds in his hand psaltery and harp 
 and sweetly sings Alleluia till his voice fills the city. And what 
 means Alleluia? In Hebrew it is thebel marematha [in the Latin 
 version : tecel cat marith macho], 'let us glorify him together.' 
 
 Paul now visits hell, and sees the various torments of various 
 sinners. There seems to be no descending scale of misery, but the 
 tortures exist side by side. Let us only notice those who talked in 
 church, and (for the sake of Longus) women who destroyed their 
 children, and lastly the priest "who ate and drank and then served 
 God," the bishop who judged unjustly and pitied neither widow nor 
 orphan, and the deacon "who ate and drank and then ministered to 
 God." Paul weeps, and then, in response to his entreaty and 
 Gabriel's, respite on Sundays is granted to the wicked in hell. 
 
 Now Paul visits Paradise and receives the blessing of the Virgin 
 and the lament of Moses for the people of Israel. He meets the 
 three great prophets Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, and Noah, who 
 was a model of asceticism while he was building the ark. Then 
 with the appearance of Elijah and Enoch the apocalypse abruptly 
 ends in the middle of Elijah's address to Paul. 
 
 This apocalypse is modelled in part on the much earlier apocalypse 
 of Peter, with which it shews some close coincidences. It no doubt 
 impressed the minds of some of its readers, for this kind of revelation 
 seems always to be more or less popular, succeeding better in, its 
 descriptions of hell than of heaven and thereby emphasizing some 
 obvious morals. Dr James says indeed that we may owe some even 
 of the present-day ideas of heaven and hell to the apocalypse of 
 Peter, and in this case Paul has perhaps contributed too. But the 
 
 1 A somewhat similar scene according to the Manichaeans, with a god of light 
 and the devil of greed and lust, each with his attendants. See Fliigel, Hani, 
 seine Lehre u. Leben, p. 100.
 
 S84 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 book is in any case far inferior to the one we treated before it and 
 to the one that follows. "So much about that." 
 
 It has been demonstrated in recent years that the Life of 
 Antony is a work of fiction. I need not here go over Weingarten's 
 arguments 1 , but when once his result is accepted the book becomes 
 much more intelligible. Of all books of the fourth century it had 
 the most immediate and widespread influence, which, though out- 
 grown by now, lasted on to the Renaissance. It was fiction as 
 Uncle Tom's Cabin was fiction, and just as this American book, 
 though perhaps not a work of the highest art and certainly denounced 
 in no measured terms by people of the slave-holding States as a 
 fabric of lies, yet swept America and England and, wakening the 
 public conscience, contributed to the freedom of the negro, so the 
 Life of Antony came at the right moment, and roused the hearts 
 of good men and women to a sense of the possibilities of a life 
 surrendered to God and dependent on His grace. 
 
 There was in the fourth century a great feeling of dissatisfaction 
 with the world and even with the Church 2 . Life was difficult and 
 the churches were not of the greatest possible aid. Then monachism. 
 began to suggest itself to the minds of Christians as a way of 
 escape from an evil world and of approach to God. The movement 
 was immensely helped by this Life of Antony, a book which displays 
 the triumphs which a simple unlettered monk, trusting in the grace 
 of God, wins over evil in every form. It is hardly a work of art, 
 it is in some places a little tedious, it is often very impossible and 
 sometimes even absurd. Yet it succeeded and deserved to succeed. 
 It was constructed with some thought, if not of the finest. More 
 than one Puritan movement had been unfortunately wrecked, 
 because its leaders quarrelled with the authorities of the Church. 
 Our author is careful to make Antony most respectful to bishop and 
 presbyter (c. 67), yielding precedence to every cleric. Again, he 
 wrote in the thick of the fight with Arianism, and between this 
 heresy and monachism there was mutual hatred 3 . So Antony is 
 exhibited to us as going to Alexandria and there, though an un- 
 educated Copt who could not speak Greek, frustrating the Arian with 
 tremendous effect. And more, the battle was not yet over and 
 
 1 See Herzog's Realencykloptidie, vol. x. on Monasticism, A. m., and Prof. 
 Gwatkin, Studies of Arianism, Note B. p. 98. 
 
 2 See Jerome, Ep. vii. 5, on his discontent with the bishop of his native place 
 ut perforatam navem debilis gubernator regat , and above all the writings of 
 Sulpicius Severus. 
 
 3 See Hatch's Bampton Lectures, vi. p. 162.
 
 Greek and Early Christian Novels 385 
 
 Antony is represented as already dead, yet before he died he 
 prophesied the troubles which the Church is even now enduring, and 
 from which he foresaw her triumphant emergence. 
 
 The book is Puritan. Antony was a mere layman, and for long 
 years he neither went to Church nor saw priest nor took sacrament, 
 and yet lived in close contact with heaven. His ambition was, like 
 that of Francis of Assisi, to follow the Saviour and live a life of 
 evangelic poverty (Mt. xix. 21). Indeed to understand him one 
 must understand Francis the real Francis as M. Sabatier draws 
 him. He had no need of books ; to him as to Francis "it was given 
 to know the mysteries of the kingdom of God, but unto others in 
 parables." 
 
 Like nearly every one else our author believed in devils, but not 
 as they did. For one great part of Antony's work is to prove finally 
 that the devil is the most futile of beings. The troops of hell may 
 play all their pranks as they please, but at the sign of the cross 
 they vanish. "For the Lord worked with him, He who wore flesh 
 for us and gave to the body the victory over the devil, so that of 
 those who strive in deed every one may say 'Yet not I, but the 
 grace of God that is in me'" (c. 5). Once the devils flogged him 
 but he prayed. "After his prayer he said with a loud voice, 'Here 
 am I, Antony ; I fly not your blows. For though add ye more also, 
 nothing shall separate me from the love of Christ.' And then he 
 sang, 'Though an host should encamp against me, my heart will 
 not fear.'" So the enemy for the time left him. Thus the effect 
 of the book was distinctly to lessen and not to increase the attention 
 paid to devils and demons, Antony is made to deliver a long 
 homily (cc. 16 43) about them, explaining what they seem to do 
 on the lines followed long ago by Apuleius and Tertullian, and 
 emphasizing their insignificance. 
 
 Of course he wrought miracles and was generally benevolent and 
 helpful. Not even the notice of the Emperor elated him. In fact 
 every virtue the writer could think of he gave him. To one point 
 I should like to call attention. The author gives Antony that 
 peculiar and happy expression we associate to-day with a strong 
 and active belief in the doctrine of grace. "From the joy of his 
 soul, his face too was bright... he was never disturbed, for his soul 
 was at peace; he was never gloomy, for his mind rejoiced" (c. 67)'. 
 
 1 Sulpicius says the same of St Martin caelestem quodamnwdo laetitiam 
 vultu praefcrens ; v. Mart. 27 and I have no doubt this expression did mark off 
 many of the brighter spirits of monachism from a world, which the thought of 
 the present must have made gloomy. 
 
 G. 25
 
 386 Life and Letters in the Fourth Century 
 
 It should not be hard to understand the influence of the book. 
 It was widely read and imitated. Jerome's Life of Paul is a copy 
 of it a wretched, rhetorical, soulless imitation of a great book. 
 Very soon it was actually attributed to Athanasius, who had the 
 credit of it till Weingarten reclaimed it for its anonymous author. 
 
 Of its effect on thoughtful people we have a striking illustration 
 in St Augustine. He tells us he had reached a more or less 
 satisfactory solution of his doubts, and now "desired to be not 
 more certain about Thee, but more stable in Thee" (Conf. viii. 1, 1), 
 and while he hesitated to commit himself to the Christian life as he 
 now saw it should be, he heard the story of Antony for the first 
 time. He was profoundly moved by the contrast between this 
 ignorant man's achievement of holiness and the low level with which 
 he himself for all his learning was content. Then resolving to try a 
 sors Biblica, suggested by the episode of Antony hearing the text 
 "If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell all that thou hast and give to 
 the poor, and come, follow me," he opened at the text in Romans 
 which struck home 1 . The great point to notice here is that the 
 essence of the book is that doctrine which Augustine, by his own 
 experience, was being led to make the centre of his faith and 
 teaching the doctrine of grace. 
 
 Here ends our study of the novels. In their own way they 
 reflect their age, the over-elaboration and sterility of style, the 
 failure of civic ideals, the growing individualism, and something of 
 the new life still struggling for expression in the Church. 
 
 1 Conf. viii. 6, 14 ff. and 12, 29. See pp. 2145.
 
 INDEX 
 
 Abgar of Edessa, 23, 141, 142; his 
 
 correspondence with our Lord, 24, 
 
 142 n. 1, 143. 
 Achilles in romance, 359, and Peuthe- 
 
 silea, 87, and Polyxena, 100. 
 Achilles Tatius, 330, 365, 370-372. 
 Acts of Paul and Thecla, 378. 
 Acts of Philip, 369. 
 Acts of Pilate, 378. 
 Acts of Thomas, 142, 370, 378. 
 Acts of Xanthippe and Polyxena, 370, 
 
 376-8. 
 
 Added, Doctrine of, 23, 141, 142. 
 Adeodatus, 199, 215. 
 Adoxography, 342. 
 Adrianople, battle of, 7, 37, 249, 327 
 
 n. 1. 
 
 Afrahat, 3, 236. 
 Agape tae, 299. 
 
 Ajax in Quintus, 87, 88 ; in Ovid, 88. 
 Alaric, 228, 238, 239. 
 Alexander the Great, effect of his con- 
 quests, 11 ; in novels, 360, 368, 370; 
 
 his nose, 130 n. 4. 
 Alexander, an early pilgrim, 126. 
 Allegory, 75, 209. 
 Amarantus, Jewish sea-captain, 330- 
 
 334. 
 Ambrose, 121, 153-155, 164, 208, 209, 
 
 215, 249, 253, 270, 271, 292, 293. 
 Amid, 25 n. 2 ; siege of, 25-28. 
 Ammianus, see chapter ii. passim. 
 
 an Antiochene, 20, 71 n. 1, 72 n. 3; 
 
 his character, 11, 45 ; 
 
 his truthfulness, 32, 34 ; 
 
 his birth, 20 ; 
 
 his education, 32 ; admiration for 
 Cicero, 32 ; 
 
 in the army under Ursicinus, 21 ; 
 
 in affair of Silvanus, 22; 
 
 adventures in campaign of 359, 
 24, 25; 
 
 at siege of Amid, 25-28; 
 
 Ammianus : 
 
 his escape, 28 ; 
 
 campaign with Julian in East, 28 ; 
 
 with Julian at his death, 29 ; 
 
 his indignation at Jovian, 29 ; 
 
 his travels, 30 ; 
 
 in Borne, 30, 43, 148; 
 
 in Antioch, 30, 371 ; 
 
 his views on treason, 31 ; 
 
 his History, 31, 218 ; its excellence, 
 34 ; its variety, 35, 36 ; 
 
 his death uncertain, 32 ; 
 
 his style, 33; 
 
 the danger of correcting him, 35 n. 1, 
 n. 3; 
 
 his attitude toward Empire, 31, 37 ; 
 
 his sympathies, 38 ; 
 
 his antipathies, 38 n. 3, 44 ; 
 
 his religion, 38, 42 n. 4 ; he finds 
 Julian religious overmuch, 56, 
 n. 1; 
 
 his view of Nemesis, 38, 39 ; 
 
 his attitude toward Christianity, 
 40-42 ; 
 
 his view of martyrs, 41 ; of bishops, 
 41 ; of theological controversy, 
 41, 42, 56; 
 
 his preference for toleration, 42 ; 
 
 his humour, 42, 43 ; 
 
 on the murder of the Goths, 327 
 
 n. 1; 
 
 Andromeda, 133. 
 Andronicus, governor of Cyrenaica, 
 
 351, 352. 
 
 Anthology, Greek, 309. 
 Anthropomorphism, 202. 
 Antichrists, etc., 297, 298. 
 Antioch, 71. 
 
 Antiochus Epiphanes, 2. 
 Anti-pagan legislation, 69. 
 Antiquarianism, 177. 
 Antony, Life of, 18, 214, 370, 384-6. 
 Apocalypse of Gaul, 370. 
 
 252
 
 388 
 
 Index 
 
 Apollinaris, father and son, 69, 86. 
 Apollonius of Tyana, 136, 162 n. 2, 361. 
 Apuleius, 12, 243, 244, 306-9, 364 n. 2, 
 
 385. 
 
 Aquitaine, 134. 
 Arbogast, Frankish general, 121, 157, 
 
 270, 271. 
 
 Arcadius, 217, 324-327, 329. 
 Archilochus, 345. 
 Architecture, 9. 
 Arianism, 17, 42, 109. 
 Aristotle, 32, 151, 154, 204, 337. 
 Army and marriage, 8. 
 Art, 9, 257. 
 Asceticism, 
 
 not properly a doctrine of Neo- 
 Platonism, 14, but often went 
 with it, 14, 18; 
 
 Christian asceticism, 18, 127, 382, 
 383; 
 
 Manichaean, 201, 203; 
 
 monks of Serapis, 279 ; 
 
 Synesius on, 341. 
 Astrology, 187 n. 2, 205, 206. 
 Astronomy, 187, 205. 
 Athanasius, 42, 67. 
 Athens, 52 n. 4, 337, 338. 
 Attusia Sabina, wife of Ausonius, 105, 
 
 113. 
 
 Auguries, 39, 87, 187 n. 2. 
 Augustine, see chapter ix. passim. 
 
 sums up his age in himself, 18; 
 
 his influence in history, 194; 
 
 his openness to impression, 185, 
 195; 
 
 his truthfulness, 195 ; 
 
 his philosophy tested by experience, 
 195, 196, 213 n. 1 ; 
 
 his search for truth and certainty, 
 195, 248, 338, 339; 
 
 his self-analysis, 195; 
 
 his affectionate nature, 196, 199 n. 1 ; 
 
 his birth, 197 ; 
 
 his parents and their influence on 
 him, 146, 147, 197-199, 203, 204, 
 215 ; see also Monnica ; 
 
 his education, 198 ; 
 
 his love of Virgil, 108, 184, 198; 
 
 student at Carthage, 198 ; 
 
 his irregular life, 199 ; not so bad 
 as supposed, 199, 252 ; 
 
 his son, 199, 215; 
 
 reads Cicero's Hortensius, 185, 199 ; 
 
 becomes interested in philosophy, 
 200; 
 
 his materialism, 204, 210, 261; 
 
 becomes a Manichaean, 200 ; 
 
 his reasons for so doing, 202, 203 ; 
 
 teacher of rhetoric in Thagaste, 
 204; 
 
 death of a friend, 204 ; 
 
 teacher in Carthage, 204 ; 
 
 Augustine : 
 
 reads Aristotle, 204 ; 
 
 repudiates use of magic, 205, 340 n. 2 ; 
 
 studies astronomy, 205 ; 
 
 finds Manichaeanism unsatisfactory 
 
 in its science, 205 ; and in its 
 
 morals, 207 ; 
 
 his conviction of sin, 207 ; 
 his fear of future judgment, 207, 
 
 210; 
 
 his first book, 207, 218; 
 goes to Borne, 207 ; and thence to 
 
 Milan, recommended by Sym- 
 
 machus, 108, 156, 208; 
 effect of his years in Manichaeanism, 
 
 208; 
 his scepticism of short duration, 
 
 195, 208; 
 meets Ambrose and hears him 
 
 preach, 209; 
 impressed by Ambrose's allegoric 
 
 method, 209; 
 
 becomes a catechumen, 209 ; 
 episode of the drunken beggar, 210 ; 
 dismisses his mistress, 210 ; 
 gets rid of his materialistic view of 
 
 God by means of Neo-Platonism 
 
 and begins to understand nature 
 
 of evil, 193, 211, 212 ; 
 finds out his moral weakness, 213 ; 
 his criticism of Neo-Platonism, 192, 
 
 212, 213, 348 ; 
 accepts doctrine of Incarnation, 213, 
 
 214; 
 
 accepts authority of Church, 214 ; 
 effect of Life of Antony on him, 
 
 214, 215; 
 
 leaves Milan, 215 ; 
 the discussions at Cassisiacum, 147, 
 
 174, 215 ; 
 
 his baptism, 215 ; 
 keynote of his Confessions, 215 ; 
 on Scriptures, 195 n. 1, 200, 276 ; 
 uneasy about celebration of martyrs, 
 
 264; 
 
 criticism of Trismegistus, 348 n. 1 ; 
 his use of philosophical language, 
 
 349 n. 1 ; 
 
 his love of quiet life, 350 n. 1 ; 
 doctrine ofopacitas auctoritatis, 350, 
 
 n. 3, 351 n. 1 ; 
 
 on gladness of Christianity, 351 n. 2. 
 Aurelian, 231, 324, 327, 328. 
 Ausonius, see chapter v. passim. 
 Gibbon's judgment on him, 102 ; 
 judgment of his friends, 102, 117 ; 
 nature of his poetry, 103 ; 
 his family and his tributes to them, 
 
 103, 113 ; 
 
 his father, 104, 114 ; 
 born at Bordeaux, 310 A.D. 104 ; 
 his education, 104 ;
 
 Index 
 
 389 
 
 Ausonius : 
 
 his letter to grandson on going to 
 
 school, 107 ; 
 his relations with his pupils, 107, 
 
 114; 
 
 his Ephemeris, 109 ; 
 his attitude towards Christianity, 
 
 109, 114-115, 254; 
 contrasted with Prudentius, 110 ; 
 his teachers, 110-112, 177; 
 his epigrams, 113 ; 
 his wife, 113; her death, 113; 
 his children and their names, 114 ; 
 what did he do in Julian's reign? 
 
 114; 
 Valentinian makes him tutor to 
 
 Gratian, 102, 115; 
 his Moselle, 115-117 ; 
 his Cento, 115 ; 
 his "itch for scribbling" and its 
 
 products, 115, 117 ; 
 his lists, 116; 
 
 his treatment of nature, 116 ; 
 his advancement by Gratian, 117; 
 his influence on legislation, 117 ; 
 part of his work fell to his son 
 
 Hesperius, 118 ; 
 consul, 119 ; 
 
 his gratiarum actio, 120; 
 his letters, 122 ; 
 his correspondence with Paulinus, 
 
 122-124. 
 Authority in philosophy and religion, 
 
 205, 214. 
 avr6s, 99. 
 
 Baldness, praise of, 342. 
 
 "Banting," 159. 
 
 Baptism, 75, 199. 
 
 Barritus, 36. 
 
 Battus, 320. 
 
 Bauto, 164. 
 
 Bears, 161. 
 
 Beasts and beast-catching, 4, 161, 162, 
 
 235 ; duty on beasts, 161. 
 Bessarion, Cardinal, 78. 
 Bethlehem, 126, 129, 133, 135. 
 Bible, not appreciated by literary men, 
 48, 51, 200, 271 n. 1, 276. 
 
 quoted by Longinus, 51. 
 
 Sortes Biblicae, 215, 282, 386. 
 Bishops in the 4th century, 41, 281, 
 
 299, 349, 383. 
 Boethius, 12, 150, see notes on pp. 
 
 186, 1$7, 190, 227. 
 Bordeaux, University of, see Educa- 
 tion. 
 Bordeaux pilgrim, 
 
 his date and route, 135, 136. 
 
 why did he not see the Cross ? 140, 
 
 141. 
 Brigands, 167. 
 
 Britain, 121 n. 3, 143, 239, 300. 
 Bruce, Robt. and Alexander the Great, 
 
 360. 
 
 Buddha, 65. 
 Burning bush, 139. 
 
 Calaber, origin of name as applied to 
 
 Quintus, 78. 
 Calendar, 178. 
 Callisthenes, the false, 360. 
 Caracalla, 15. 
 
 Cassisiacum, 147, 174, 215. 
 Catacombs, 263. 
 Cataphracts, 26, 273. 
 Catullus, 113, 304. 
 
 Celibacy, 8, 18, 127, 128, 201, 210, 341. 
 Celts and Greek, 218, 300. 
 Centos, 115, 144-146. 
 Chi and Kappa, 56. 
 Christianity, its gladness, 282, 286, 
 
 303, 351, 376, 381, 385. 
 Christians and heathen literature, 68, 
 
 86, 251, 287. 
 Chrysostom, 324, 325, 347, 351. 
 
 on pilgrimages, 143. 
 Church : its relations to Empire, 16 ; 
 
 effect of toleration on, 17, 250, 280, 
 316 ; its quarrels, 41 ; 
 
 dissatisfaction of Christians with, 
 
 18, 281, 293, 294, 299, 384. 
 Cicero, his Dream of Scipio, 186. 
 
 his Hortensius, 185, 199 ; his letters, 
 149. 
 
 his poem, 148. 
 
 much cited by Ammianus, 32. 
 Claudian, see chapter x. passim. 
 
 his Egyptian origin, 217, 218 ; 
 
 was he Greek or Latin ? 218 ; 
 
 his Greek poetry, 218 ; 
 
 first published Latin poetry in 395 
 A.D., 218-9; 
 
 excellence of his language, 219; 
 
 attaches himself to Stilicho, 219, 
 229; 
 
 his marriage, 219 ; 
 
 an exponent of views of Roman 
 society, 219 ; 
 
 receives compliment of a statue, 
 220; 
 
 the story of " Hadrian," 220 ; 
 
 as panegyrist, 221-230; 
 
 his panegyric to sons of Probus, 
 222-225 ; 
 
 his personification of Rome, 223 ; 
 
 his method in poetry, 224, 245 ; 
 
 panegyric to Honorius, 225 ; 
 
 address on kingship, 227 ; 
 
 his invectives, 230-232 ; 
 
 his views on Roman policy, 226-8, 
 232; 
 
 his rhetoric, 231; his lists, 234; 
 
 his views on Providence, 231, 328 ;
 
 390 
 
 Index 
 
 Claudian : 
 
 his pictures of Hell, 232, 246 ; 
 
 his treatment of Latin hexameter, 
 233, 234 ; 
 
 influence of earlier poets on him, 
 233, 234; 
 
 exaggeration, 234, 235 ; 
 
 his similes, 235 ; 
 
 his love of Rome, 230, 236-240, 255 ; 
 
 his dislike of Constantinople, 232, 
 239, 240; 
 
 his adherence to old religion, 240- 
 244, 248; 
 
 his use of the gods in poetry, 240 ; 
 
 his attitude toward Christianity not 
 indifference but hostility, 240, 
 241; 
 
 did he know Scripture ? 241, 242 ; 
 
 his Rape of Proserpine, 244-248 ; 
 
 his treatment of nature, 245 ; 
 
 conclusion, 248 ; 
 
 contrasted with Prudentius, 255, 
 273; 
 
 his use of Virgil, 233. 
 Clementine Recognitions, 134, 342 n. 1, 
 
 378. 
 
 Colluthus, 86. 
 Commodian, 253. 
 Concubinage, 199. 
 Constantina, wife of Gallus, and saint, 
 
 45. 
 
 Constantine, 7, 324 ; his character, 
 62, 75 n. 1 ; his humour, 72 n. 3 ; 
 and the Church, 16, 17, 42, 49. 
 
 legislates for schools, 107. 
 
 the " seed of Constantine," 49. 
 Constantinople, 7, 232, 237, 239, 240, 
 
 324, 329. 
 Constantius, 21, and the chamberlain 
 
 Eusebius, 23. 
 
 - his visit to Rome, 43, 155, 269 ; his 
 theology, 41, 49, 56 ; 
 
 his murder of his family, 45, 49, 56; 
 
 endows University at Athens, 52 n. 4. 
 Consulship, 119, 120, 223. 
 Cosmetics, 128, 133. 
 Cross, its invention, 140, 141 ; frag- 
 ments of it, 130, 285. 
 Cross, in Prudentius, 254, 265, 266. 
 Cross, sign of the, 266, 370, 377. 
 Cyprian, 16, 108, 250, 253, 255 n. 1, 
 
 261, 267, 296. 
 
 Cyrene, see chapter xiv. : esp. 320-322. 
 Cyril, bp of Alexandria, 317, 318. 
 Cyril, bp of Jerusalem, 140. 
 
 Damasus, 9, 41, 132, 153, 155, 279, 
 292, and Praetextatus, 163, 250 n. 1, 
 and the Catacombs, 253, 261, 263, 
 281 n. 1. 
 
 Daphnis and Chloe, 84 n. 3, 335, 357, 
 358, 372-376. 
 
 Decline in morals, 4. 
 
 Deidamia, 93, 94. 
 
 Descent into Hell, 246, 266, 267, 355, 
 
 378-381. 
 
 Dialogues, 173, 288. 
 Diatensaron, 24. 
 Dido, 184, 198, 251. 
 Dio Cassius, 108, 130 n. 4. 
 Dio Chrysostom, 325 n. 2, 335 n. 1, 
 
 n. 2, 339, 342, 346 n. 1, 364, 373. 
 Diocletian moulds himself on Marcus, 
 54 n. 5 ; 
 
 his character, 6 n. 1 ; 
 
 his policy, 6, 117, 221 ; 
 
 his persecution of the Church, 16 ; 
 
 effect of his reforms of Empire, 
 
 221. 
 Disraeli and Claudian, 225 n. 1, 230 
 
 n. 2, 235 n. 2. 
 
 Dogs, 320, 342, 350; Scottish, 161. 
 Donatism, 66; and the Moors, 152. 
 Dreams, Neo-Platonists on, 187, 341, 
 342. 
 
 Monnica's dreams, 146, 204, 342. 
 Dream of Scipio, 186. 
 Drowning, 333. 
 Druids, 110. 
 
 Edessa, 23, 142. 
 
 Education in Roman Empire (see esp. 
 chapters on Ausonius, Macrobius, 
 and Augustine, v. viii. ix.). 
 
 old-time education at Rome, 105 ; 
 
 subjects of study in schools of 
 Empire, 108, 251 ; 
 
 philosophy, 105, 150 ; 
 
 rhetoric, 105, 151 ; 
 
 Christian view of rhetoric, 252 ; 
 
 grammar, 105 ; 
 
 Virgil in schools, 107, 251, 276; 
 
 Greek, 111, 150, 160, 260 n. 1 ; 
 
 position of teachers, 105, 106 ; legis- 
 lated for by Government, 107 ; 
 
 schools, 106-108; 
 
 school discipline, 107, 198, 251, 251 
 n. 2; 
 
 schoolmasters, 106, 185 ; how ap- 
 pointed, 108 ; 
 
 universities, 106 ; 
 
 professors, 106, 110-112, 165; 
 
 position of professors in society, 
 121, 165; 
 
 their salaries, 106, 165; 
 
 students, 112, 198, 207, 208; 
 
 university of Alexandria, 323, 338 ; 
 
 university of Athens, 52, 106, 112, 
 338; 
 
 university of Berytus, 3 ; 
 
 university of Bordeaux, 110-112 ; 
 
 university of Carthage, 198, 207 ; 
 
 university of Constantinople, 106 ; 
 
 university of Rome, 106, 112, 208;
 
 Index 
 
 391 
 
 Education in Roman Empire : 
 
 heathen character of education, 68, 
 108, 112; 
 
 practical joking in universities, 112, 
 199, 207 ; 
 
 teachers' " union," 112 ; 
 
 Julian's schools decree, 68, 69, 86, 
 
 108, 114. 
 Egypt, where lovers always go, 126, 
 
 366. 
 
 Elephants, 26, 28, 235. 
 Elvira, Synod of, 250 n. 1, 262 n. 1, 
 
 299 n. 4. 
 
 Embroidery, 9, 129, 184. 
 Enoch, 360, 363. 
 Ephraem, the Syrian, 142, 381. 
 Epicureans, 11 : hated by Neo-Plato- 
 
 nists, 64, 188. 
 
 Er the Armenian, 186, 188, 360. 
 Etymology, 177, 339. 
 Eucherius, son of Stilicho, 229. 
 Eudoxia, Empress, 324. 
 Eugenius, Professor and Emperor, 121, 
 
 157, 165, 226, 270. 
 Eulalia, 262. 
 
 Eunuchs, 44, 50, 128, 132, 232. 
 Euripides, 125. 
 
 Eusebia, wife of Constantius, 52, 59. 
 Eusebius, bp of Nicomedeia, 50, 250. 
 Eustochium, correspondent of Jerome, 
 
 128, 132, 133. 
 Eutropius, the eunuch, 230, 232, 240, 
 
 324. 
 
 Eutropius, historian, 71 n. 5, 109. 
 Evangelus (in Saturnalia), 174, 175, 
 
 180. 
 
 Evil, origin of, 202, 203, 211, 258, 328. 
 Exposure of children, 8, 372. 
 
 Fabiola founds a hospital, 129. 
 Faltonia Proba, prob. not authoress of 
 
 Cento, 144, 223. 
 Faustus, the Manichaean, 200. 
 Finance bad in Roman Empire, 3. 
 Firmus, 152, 157. 
 Flavian, 157, 161, 171, 176. 
 Flavian, the younger, son-in-law of 
 
 Symmachus, 157, 159, 160. 
 Fortuna, 182 n. 3. 
 Fox, George, 280, 290 n. 1. 
 Free corn, etc. in Rome, 4, 153. 
 
 Gainas, 231, 324, 327, 328. 
 
 Gallic character, 27. 
 
 Gallic "edacity," 283. 
 
 Gallic monasticism, 286; see chapter 
 
 xii. 
 
 Gallic oratory, 110, 151, 286 n. 2. 
 Gallic soldiers in East, 25, 27. 
 Gallus, Caesar, 21, 38, 45, 49, 51, 52, 
 
 71. 
 Gellius, 173, 175, 176. 
 
 Geography, 34, 152. 
 
 George, bp of Alexandria, 66, 281 ; 
 
 his library, 52, 66, 281 n. 1. 
 George, St, 133 n. 1. 
 Germans in army, 8, 35, 36, 55 n. 4, 
 
 326. 
 
 German settlements, 8. 
 Gildo, 157. 
 
 Gladiators, 22, 80, 161, 250, 273. 
 Golden Ass, 307, 367 n. 1. 
 Gospel of Nicodemus, 378. 
 Goths, 7, 228, 324, 326, 327. 
 Gratian, 114, 115, 117, 120, 121, 151, 
 
 153, 154. 
 Greeks and Latin language, 33 n. 1, 
 
 50 n. 3. 
 
 Greek freedom, 2. 
 Greek philosophy, its influence on 
 
 Rome, 4. 
 
 Gregory of Nazianzus, 53, 67. 
 Gregory of Nyssa on pilgrimages, 144. 
 
 Hebrew studied, 133 ; sham Hebrew, 
 
 383. 
 
 Heliodorus, 372. 
 Hermes Trismegistus, 13, 65, 181, 192, 
 
 348. 
 
 Hesiod, 78, 81, 100, 272. 
 Hippopotamus (rhetorical), 366. 
 History, 10, 368. 
 Homer, see chapter iv. 48, 50, 53, 57, 
 
 111, 182, 311, 333, 335, 365. 
 Honoring, 217, 226, 230, 235, 241. 
 Horace, 304 ; neglected by Macrobius, 
 
 177; his relations with Augustus, 
 
 216. 
 Horses from Spain, 161; at Gyrene, 
 
 320, 336. 
 Hypatia, 317, 318, 323, 324, 337, 338, 
 
 339, 344. 
 
 lamblichus, 12, 348. 
 
 Ignatius, 279. 
 
 Incarnation, 213, 260, 261, 264, 347, 
 
 348. 
 Isis, 78, 125, 307. 
 
 Jerome, 
 
 his rhetoric, 127, 148; 
 
 on marriage, 128; 
 
 on Roman manners, 128, 148; 
 
 on scriptures, 276 ; 
 
 his letters to Eustochium, 128, 299 
 n. 5; 
 
 on Rufinus, 368; 
 
 his Life of Paul the Hermit, 361 
 n. 4, 386; 
 
 on Jerusalem and its dangers, 144; 
 
 on Centos, 145. 
 
 Jerusalem, 295; relics at, 140, 141; 
 . its disorders, 144 ; called Aelia, 140 ; 
 
 the temple, 63 n. 5.
 
 392 
 
 Index 
 
 Jews, 2; 
 
 hated, 48 n. 1, 109; 
 Jewish exclusiveness, 15 ; 
 befrieuded by Julian, 63 n. 5; 
 refuted by Prudentius, 260; 
 scattered through Empire, 48 n. 1, 
 
 109, 295; 
 in Cyrenaica, 321 ; 
 sailors, 331; 
 
 sabbath at sea, 332, 333; 
 Jewish novels, 360, 363; 
 a Jew converted by miracle, 369. 
 Job's tomb, 142; his dunghill, 143. 
 Joshua the Stylite, 29 n. 6, 35 n. 2, 
 
 142 n. 1. 
 
 Jovian, 29, 73, 114. 
 Judgment to come, 124, 191, 192 n. 1, 
 
 210, 267, 285, 316. 
 Julian, see chapter iii. passim. 
 
 false views of, 47; difficulty of 
 
 understanding, 48; 
 escapes murder as a child, 49; 
 in care of Eusebius of Nicomedeia, 
 
 50; 
 educated by Mardonius in Greek, 
 
 esp. Homer, 50, 57; 
 his fondness for Homer, 53, 62; 
 leans to Greek, 50 n. 3, 70 ; 
 but Roman elements in his charac- 
 ter, 55 n. 5; 
 
 removed to Macellum, 51 ; 
 dislike of Bible, 51, 57; 
 never understood Christianity, 51, 
 
 75; 
 
 early interest in philosophy, 52; 
 attendance on lectures of philoso- 
 phers, 57; 
 at Athens, 52, 59; 
 kept from hearing Libanius, 52; 
 portrait by Gregory, 53; 
 at Milan, 53, 59; 
 made Caesar, 53 ; married to Helena, 
 
 54; 
 sent to Gaul, 53 ; panegyrics on 
 
 Constantius, 60, 74, 226; 
 his military successes in Gaul, 54 ; 
 his success as administrator in Gaul, 
 
 54, 254 n. 3. 
 
 imitates Marcus Aurelius, 54, 76; 
 his revolt, 55; 
 sole Emperor, 55; 
 his attempt to revive paganism, 56, 
 
 308; 
 influences that made him a heathen, 
 
 56-62; 
 fancies himself a demi-god, 58, 59, 
 
 61; 
 comes under influence of Maximus, 
 
 58; 
 
 his years of hypocrisy, 52, 59, 347; 
 character of his paganism, 59-62, 
 '56 n. 1. 
 
 Julian: 
 
 his Catholic Church of Hellenism, 63; 
 
 tries to organize and purify priest- 
 hoods, 64; 
 
 hurried character of his writings, 64; 
 
 attitude to life hereafter uncertain, 
 65; 
 
 his relations with Christian Church, 
 66-71 ; 
 
 his recall of Christian exiles, 41, 66; 
 
 his schools decree, 68, 86, 114; 
 
 results of his attack on Church, 69- 
 
 71; 
 
 at Antioch, 71, 72; 
 
 his interference with corn trade, 71 ; 
 
 makes war on Persians, 72 ; 
 
 his death, 73; 
 
 his last words, 29, 73; 
 
 his writings, 73 f. ; 
 
 his book against the Christians, 74 ; 
 
 his literary style and Cyril's criti- 
 cism, 74; 
 
 his parody of baptism, 75 ; 
 
 his hatred of Constantine, 75 ; 
 
 his Caesares, 75 ; 
 
 general effect of his life, 76; 
 
 feeling of Christians toward him, 
 
 68, 254. 
 
 Juvenal, 169, n. 3, 177, 232, 233, 243. 
 Juvencus, 119, 124 n. 1, 251, 253, 275, 
 
 369. 
 
 "King, r> as applied to Emperor, 6, 
 
 325 f. 
 Kingship, 74, 226, 325-7. 
 
 Labarum, 78, 254. 
 
 Lactantius, 6, 118. 
 
 Laurentius, St, 261. 
 
 Lessons in Church service, 140. 
 
 Libanius, 30, 52, 57, 112, 151, 199 n. 2. 
 
 Literary men and Christianity, 40, 57, 
 
 108. 
 London, called Augusta by Ammianus, 
 
 140 n. 1. 
 Longinus, 51. 
 
 Longus, see Daphnis and Chloe. 
 Lot's wife, 141, 142; cf. ref. on 259. 
 Lucan, 87, 181, 231, 30fi. 
 Lucian, 12, 63 n. 1, 306-8, 361, 362, 367. 
 Lucretius, 169 n. 3, 243 n. 3, 304, 305. 
 Luxury, 326. 
 
 Macrobius, see chapter viii. passim. 
 little known of his life, 172; 
 writes for his son, 172, 180, 185; 
 illustrates Roman society, 171; 
 ignores Christianity, 171; 
 his character, 184, 185; his religion, 
 
 181; 
 
 his Saturnalia, 173-185; 
 nature of the Sat., 173, 176;
 
 Index 
 
 393 
 
 Macrobius : 
 
 sources of Sat., 173, 175, 178, 180; 
 
 method and style of the Sat., 174, 175 ; 
 
 characters of Sat., 175; 
 
 scene of Sat., 176; 
 
 range of discussion in Sat., 176; 
 
 his antiquarianism, 176 
 
 avoids politics, 176 ; ignores the 
 Empire, 183; 
 
 on grammar, etc., 176, 177; 
 
 on literature, 177; 
 
 on " science," 178; 
 
 on the Calendar, 178; 
 
 on manners and tact, 178-180; 
 
 on morals, 180, 181; 
 
 on Virgil, 181-185; 
 
 defects and values of his work, 171, 
 185; 
 
 his Commentary on Scipio's Dream, 
 186-192 ; 
 
 his excursuses in Comm., 186, 187; 
 
 outline of his Neo-Platonism, 189- 
 192; 
 
 on suicide, 192; 
 
 contemporary criticisms of his doc- 
 trines, 192, 193. 
 
 Magic, 10, 30, 58, 203, 205, 340, 377. 
 Mani, 200 f., 205. 
 Manichaeanism, 
 
 its origin and general character, 
 200-203; 
 
 its adherents in classes, 201, 203; 
 
 persecuted by Magi, 35 n. 2; 
 
 its astronomy, 202, 205, 206. 
 Manners in 4th century, 168, 178-180. 
 Marcion, 258. 
 Marcus Aurelius, 306, 307; imitated 
 
 by Diocletian , 54 n. 5 ; and by Julian, 
 
 54, 76. 
 
 Mardonius, tutor of Julian, 50. 
 Marriage, 5 ; Jerome on marriage, 128. 
 Martin, St, see ch. xii. passim, 121, 
 
 281, 282, 283, 284, 285, 292-4, 298- 
 
 300; his miracles, 288-290; his Life 
 
 by Sulpicius, 131, 296, 297. 
 Martyries, 18, 23, 27, 123, 130, 136, 
 
 142, 143, 250, 262, 264 n. 1. 
 Maximin Daja, 63. 
 Maximus, the magician, 13, 58. 
 Maximus, the usurper, 111, 114, 121, 
 
 156, 291-3. 
 
 Melania, pilgrim, 130, 131. 
 Military engines, 26. 
 Minervius, 110, 151. 
 Miracles, 288-291. 
 Miscellanies, 173. 
 Misopogon, 20 n. 2, 72. 
 Mithras, 75, 78, 163, 181 n. 2. 
 Monachism, 16, 18, 109, 279, 301, 
 302, 316, 382 : 
 
 criticisms of Synesius on, 341 ; 
 
 criticism of Butilius, 48 n. 1. 
 
 Monnica, mother of Augustine, 
 
 her training and marriage, 146, 197; 
 
 her influence on Aug., 146, 147; 
 
 impresses Aug. with the "name of 
 Christ," 147, 197, 203; 
 
 her anxiety about Aug.'s opinions, 
 146, 203; 
 
 follows Aug. to Milan, 146, 207; 
 
 at Cassisiacum, 147, 215 ; 
 
 her intelligence, 147; 
 
 her talk with Aug. at Ostia, 147 ; 
 
 dies and is buried at Ostia, 147. 
 Montanism, 17, 279. 
 Musaeus, 85. 
 
 Natural science, 34, 35, 178, 187. 
 Nature and man, 85; and monks, 300. 
 Nebo, Mt, 141. 
 
 Nebridius, 205, 206, 207, 211. 
 Neckar, river, 152. 
 Nectarius, Bp of Constantinople, 349. 
 Neo-Platonism; see especially chapters 
 iii. viii. ix. xiv. 
 
 outline of Neo-Platonic philosophy, 
 188-192, 211, 212; 
 
 as presented to Julian, 57 ; 
 
 its general character, 12; 
 
 not properly ascetic, 14; 
 
 leans to asceticism, 18; 
 
 its doctrine of communion with God, 
 58, 212; 
 
 its acceptance of Divine will, 60 n. 1 ; 
 
 had it a doctrine of "grace"? 59- 
 61, 192, 213, 347; 
 
 its doctrine of punishment of sin, 
 191, 212; 
 
 of life hereafter, 65, 189-192; 
 
 rejects resurrection of body, 350; 
 
 its relations with theurgy and magic, 
 58, 192, 340; 
 
 its influence for good, 14, 64 n. 3; 
 
 its defects, 13, 14, 192, 193, 213, 347 ; 
 
 a religion of disciples, 15, 338; 
 
 its adherents, 13, 340; 
 
 not a religion for common people, 
 14, 64, 348; 
 
 its influence on Augustine, 13, 211 ; 
 
 Augustine's criticism of it, 193; cf. 
 
 212, 213, 348. 
 Neoptolemus, voyage of, 83 ; 
 
 murders Priam, 93. 
 Neo-Pythagoreanism, 12. 
 Nero, pretenders to name, 298. 
 Nestorius, 257. 
 Nicene Council, 17. 
 Nicomedeia, 6, 7, 136. 
 Niobe, 82, 315. 
 
 Nisibis, 21, 23; surrendered to Per- 
 sians by Jovian, 29, 143; tradition 
 
 cited by Joshua the Stylite, 29 n. 6. 
 Nitria, 133, 135. 
 Nonnus, 10, 86, 90.
 
 394 
 
 Index 
 
 Novatianism, 17, 66, 72 n. 3, 156, 279, 
 
 339 n. 1. 
 Novels, see chapter xv. passim, 64, 126. 
 
 difficulty of dating novels, 357; 
 
 their translations, 357, 360; 
 
 contributing sources to a successful 
 novel, 358; 
 
 their classification, 359 ; 
 
 novels of Troy, 359; 
 
 Utopian novels, 359 ; 
 
 apocalyptic novels (Er), 360; 
 
 novels about Alexander, 360 ; 
 
 these coloured by Indian tales, 360; 
 
 versions of false Callisthenes, 360; 
 
 novels of idealized heroes, 361; 
 
 novels of travel, 362; 
 
 love-tales, 362, 363; their charac- 
 ter, 64, 362; 
 
 chastity of heroine in love-tale, 363; 
 
 novels with a purpose, 363; 
 
 novels written by sophists, 364 ; 
 
 style of sophists' novels, 364, 365, 
 '368; 
 
 descriptions in novels, 365 ; 
 
 descriptions of pictures, 365; 
 
 descriptions of marvels, 366; 
 
 magic in novels, 126, 366; 
 
 mechanical adventures, 126, 367; 
 
 no individuality in Greek novels, 
 367; 
 
 automaton heroes, 367; 
 
 "the fortuitous interference of 
 Providence," 367; 
 
 differences of Christian from heathen 
 novels, 368, 369, 376, 378; 
 
 typical Christian novels, 369, 370; 
 
 analysis of Achilles Tatius, 370-2; 
 
 the novel of Longus, 372-376; 
 
 Xanthippe and Polyxena, 376-8; 
 
 the Descent into Hell, 378-381; 
 
 the Apocalypse of Paul, 382, 383 ; 
 
 the Life of Antony, 384-6; 
 
 Jerome's Life of Paid, 386. 
 
 (Enone, 94-6. 
 
 Oliphant, Laurence, 301, 302. 
 
 ojKootfcnos, 17, 156. 
 
 Orbilius, 105. 
 
 Ordination as a punishment, 349. 
 
 Orfitus, father-in-law of Symmachus, 
 
 152, 155. 
 
 Origen, 126, 291, 351. 
 Orosius, 228, 270. 
 "Orpheus," 363. 
 Ovid, 88, 305. 
 
 Paganism, change in, 5, 78, 243, 
 
 305-9. 
 Palladas, see chapter xiii. passim. 
 
 little known of him, 309 n. 1; 
 
 character of his work, 309, 310, 313 ; 
 
 his insistence on one note, 310; 
 
 Palladas : 
 
 a pessimist, 310, 317; 
 
 his attitude to society, 310, 311; 
 
 to literature, 311 ; 
 
 his feeling toward Homer, 311, 312 ; 
 
 a misogynist, 311, 312; 
 
 his humour, 312, 313; 
 
 his view of fortune, 313, 314; 
 
 his philosophy, 315 ; 
 
 his relations with Christianity, 
 315-317; 
 
 his despair of Greek world, 318, 319. 
 Panegyrics, 60, 74, 120, 121, 151, 156, 
 
 210, 221-230. 
 
 Pater's Marius, 12, 63 n. 1; transla- 
 tion from Claudian, 245. 
 Paul, 15, 279; Julian's view of, 51. 
 Paul and Virginia, 358, 373. 
 Paula, pilgrim, 131-3; her motives, 
 
 132; on pilgrims, 143. 
 Paula, grand-daughter of Paula the 
 
 pilgrim, 172; her education, 128, 
 
 129. 
 Paulinus of Nola, 
 
 pupil of Ausonius and very fond of 
 him, 107, 123, 284; 
 
 his correspondence with Ausonius, 
 122-124 ; 
 
 his correspondence with Bulpicius, 
 284, 285; 
 
 his rhetoric, 127, 283 n. 2; 
 
 settles at Nola, 123; 
 
 his view of world and religion, 123 ; 
 
 and Melania, 131 ; and Silvia, 143, 
 
 285. 
 
 Pausanias, 82, 83. 
 Pelagius, 213 n. 1, 300, 301. 
 Pericles, Prince of Tyre, 362. 
 Persecution of heretics, 292-4. 
 Persius, 191 n. 2, 306. 
 Petronius Probus, 145, 164, 167, 222, 
 223; 
 
 his sons, 165, 166, 222-5. 
 Philoctetes in Quintus, 89, 96. 
 Philosophy, influenced by Alexander's 
 conquest, 11; 
 
 thereafter makes individual the 
 centre, 11, 359; 
 
 works for equality of mankind, 15. 
 Philostratus, 12, 100 n. 2, 162 n. 2, 
 
 359, 361, 368. 
 Phycus, 321, 336. 
 Physiology, 178. 
 Picts, 225. 
 Pictures in churches, 250, 261, 264 n. 1, 
 
 285. 
 Pilgrimages, see chapter vi. passim. 
 
 heathen pilgrimages, 125; 
 
 Christian pilgrimages from 4th cen- 
 tury on, 127; 
 
 motives for a pilgrimage, 129, 135; 
 
 pilgrims swarm to Palestine, 143;
 
 Index 
 
 395 
 
 Pilgrimages: 
 
 effects of pilgrimages on morals 
 
 doubtful, 144; 
 
 opinions of Gregory of Nyssa, Je- 
 rome and Vigilantius, 144; 
 scandals attached to, 144; 
 pilgrimages to Borne and the Cata- 
 combs, 236, 263. 
 Pirates, 126, 180, 235. 
 Plague, the great, 8, 321. 
 Plato, 151, 260; see Neo-Platonism. 
 Pliny and the School at Como, 106. 
 Plotinus, 12, 212; see notes to pp. 
 
 189-191. 
 
 Plutarch, 173, 181, 360. 
 Pollentia, battle of, 158, 228, 229, 272. 
 Population, doctrine of, 7, 321. 
 Porphyry, 12, 14, 209, 212, 328, 361; 
 
 see notes on pp. 189-191. 
 Postal arrangements, 123. 
 Postumian's journey to the East, 130, 
 
 135. 296, 297, 347 n. 1. 
 Praetextatus, 13, 148, 155, 162-4; in 
 the Saturnalia, 168, 171, 174, 176, 
 180-182; 
 
 relations with Damasus, 163; 
 his character and learning, 162; 
 his religion, 162, 192 ; his wife's 
 
 monument to him, 163, 164. 
 Praetorian prefects, 117-119. 
 Priscillianism, 111, 121, 292-4. 
 Proba, her cento, 144-6; read through 
 
 Middle Ages, 146; 
 not Faltonia, 144; 
 her monument, 146. 
 Proclus, 12, 59 n. 3, 338. 
 Procopius, historian, 322 n. 2. 
 Procopius, pretender, 43. 
 Proteus, sea-god, 351. 
 Protonice, 141. 
 
 Providence, 202, 231, 243, 317, 328. 
 Prudentius, see chapter xi. passim. 
 born at Caesaraugusta in 348 A.D., 
 
 249, 251, 263; 
 his age, 249, 250; 
 his education, 251; studied rhetoric, 
 
 251, 261; 
 
 studies Virgil and Bible, 25 1,274, 275; 
 his youth and manhood, 252; 
 an official of Empire, 252, 254 n. 3; 
 his poetical career, 252, 253; 
 his originality in literature, 254; 
 his attitude toward Boman Empire, 
 
 254; 
 
 his Christianity, 254; 
 his view of heathenism, 254 ; 
 of heresy, 255, 256, 265 ; 
 discusses purpose of Empire, 255, 
 
 251); 
 
 his tolerance, 254 n. 3, 257; 
 his writings all have practical aim, 
 254, 257; 
 
 Prudentius : 
 
 holds Nicene Creed, 251, 257; 
 
 his handling of doctrine, 257; 
 
 his Hamartigenia, 257-260; 
 
 on evil, 258; heaven and hell, 259; 
 
 his Apotheosis on the nature of 
 Christ, 260, 261; 
 
 Peri Stephanon, 261-4; 
 
 on conversion of Senate, 262, 271; 
 
 his love of the horrible, 262 ; 
 
 his polemics after Tertullian, 263,273; 
 
 his Psycfiomachia and its signifi- 
 cance, 264, 265; 
 
 on the Cross, 254, 265; 
 
 his Cathemerinon, 265-9; 
 
 Cath. used in breviary, 265; 
 
 character of his work in Cath., 266; 
 
 his reply to Symmachus, 269-273 ; 
 
 on early heathen training, 271 ; 
 
 his courtesy, 271 ; 
 
 contrasted with Claudian, 255, 273; 
 
 his plea for abolition of gladiatorial 
 games, 273; 
 
 his weak points, 273 ; 
 
 his rhetoric and list-making, 273; 
 
 his treatment of metre, 274; 
 
 his neglect of Psalter, 276; 
 
 his popularity in Middle Ages, 264. 
 
 passages translated, 259, 267, 277. 
 
 Quebec, city, 84 ; Ste Anne de Beaupr6, 
 
 289. 
 Quintus of Smyrna, see chapter iv. 
 
 passim. 
 
 position of, in literature, 77; 
 who was he? 79; 
 his probable date, 79; 
 Sainte-Beuve on, 80, 81, 87, 92, 98; 
 his reference to Smyrna, 81; 
 his interest in scenery of Asia Minor, 
 
 82-84; 
 
 his knowledge of country life, 84, 85 ; 
 his interest in horses, 85 ; 
 wrote by ear, 86; excellence of his 
 
 rhythm, 90; 
 dominated by Homer, but not a 
 
 cento, 86; 
 
 is he a patchwork of Cyclici ? 86 ; 
 indications that he studied Hesiod, 
 
 78, 81, 100; 
 his anachronisms, 87; 
 gentler character of his heroes, 87 ; 
 compared with Ovid, 88; 
 his occasional rhetorical passages, 
 
 86, 88, 91; 
 
 his doctrine of Fate, 89, 96, 97; 
 inconsistencies in his poem, 89, 90; 
 his excessive length, 90; 
 his similes, 88, 91; 
 various estimates of Quintus, 91 ; 
 compared with Virgil, 83, 92; 
 his simplesse, 93, 96;
 
 396 
 
 Index 
 
 Quintus of Smyrna: 
 
 confusion of his ideas, 97, 98, 99, 100 ; 
 his conception of sin or guilt, 89, 
 
 96, 99; 
 conclusion, 100, 101. 
 
 Eachel and Jacob, 143. 
 
 Eafting, 85. 
 
 Relics, 18, 24, 130, 131, 143, 250, 285. 
 
 Remmius Palaemon, 105. 
 
 Revival of literature in 4th century, 10. 
 
 Revival of paganism, 5, 15, 181, 243, 
 
 289, 305-9. 
 Rhetoric, 11, 88, 91, 105, 110, 184, 
 
 195, 231, 251, 273, 330, 335, 359, 
 
 364 f. 
 Rhetoric and letter-writing, 158 n. 1, 
 
 372 
 
 Roads, 2, 126, 135. 
 Roman Empire, meant peace and 
 order, 1; 
 
 its union of mankind, 238, 239, 
 255, 256; 
 
 its weakness, 3 ; 
 
 its oppression, 229, 230; 
 
 its relation to nationalism, 2; 
 
 impression it made on mankind, 
 236, 237, 238; 
 
 eternity of, 3, 119, 238; 
 
 its purpose, 255, 256; 
 
 finance bad, 3 ; 
 
 maladministration of justice, 327; 
 
 loss of population, 7, 321 ; 
 
 decline in art, etc., 9; 
 
 German settlements in, 8; 
 
 and Church, 16; 
 
 runaways, 23, 25, 37 n. 2 ; 
 
 and education, 3, 110; (see Educa- 
 tion) ; 
 
 its re-organization by Diocletian, 
 6, 117, 118; 
 
 development of Sultanism, 17, 221, 
 326, cf. 329 n. 1 ; 
 
 its paralysing effect, 343. 
 Romans, see chapters vii. viii. 
 
 gentlemen, 44; 
 
 luxury of, 44 ; 
 
 their eunuchs, 44; 
 
 their horses, 44; 
 
 their slang, 44; 
 
 their brawls for corn, etc., 45; 
 
 society in Rome, 44, 127, 165; 
 
 Jerome on Christians of Rome, 128 ; 
 
 their reading, 44, 169; see ch. viii. 
 Rome, city of, 
 
 not much visited by Emperors, 6; 
 
 taxed by Galerius, 169 n. 1 ; 
 
 visit of Constantius, 43, 155, 269 ; 
 
 capture by Goths, 7, 249; 
 
 Ammianus on Rome, 43, 44; 
 
 its impressiveness, 44, 237; 
 
 its insignificance, 6; 
 
 Rome, city of: 
 
 Senate consulted by Stilicho, 157; 
 
 Rome personified, 223, 270, 272; 
 
 Rome and the gods, 237, 238, 239, 
 272, 273; 
 
 tradition of freedom, 167, 228; its 
 
 free food, 4, 153. 
 Rufinus (minister of Arcadius), 134, 
 
 230-232, 324; his "dissection," 231. 
 Rufinus, theologian, 134, 368. 
 Rusticiana, wife of Symmachus, 152, 
 
 159. 
 Rutilius, 48 n. 1, 109, 226 n. 1. 
 
 Saansaan, 26. 
 
 Sabinianus, 23. 
 
 Saint- worship, 250, 261, 329 n. 1; see 
 
 Martyries. 
 
 St Pierre, Bernardin de, 358, 365, 373. 
 Sallust, 166, 179. 
 Sapor II., 26-28. 
 Saracens, 35 n. 2, 138, 240. 
 Sassanian kings, their official language, 
 26 n. 3; 
 
 their relations with Roman Empire 
 
 and Christianity, 35. 
 Saturnalia; see Macrobius. 
 Satyrs, 361. 
 Saxons, 161, 225. 
 Scepticism, 4, 12. 
 Scots, 225; Scottish dogs, 161. 
 Semiramis, 225, 228, 331. 
 Serapeum, 32, 316. 
 Serapis, 65 ; his monks, 279. 
 Sextus Empiricus, 12. 
 Silk, 129, 161, 223. 
 Silvanus, 22. 
 Silvia, 
 
 who is she? 133, 134; 
 
 Palladius' Silvia, 134; 
 
 "Silvia" of the Pilgrimage, 134; 
 
 her motives, 135. 
 
 her possible routes from Gaul to 
 Palestine, 135, 136; 
 
 her accuracy of observation, 136 ; 
 
 her style, 136; 
 
 her visit to Sinai quoted, 137-140; 
 
 her account of usages of Church at 
 Jerusalem, 140 ; 
 
 sees Mt Nebo, 141 ; 
 
 does not see Lot's wife, 141 ; 
 
 sees Job's tomb, 142; 
 
 visits Edessa and martyry of St 
 Thomas, 142; 
 
 reads Ada Thoinae, 142; 
 
 sees our Lord's letter to Abgar, 143 ; 
 
 visits Haran, 143; 
 
 returns to Constantinople, 143 ; 
 
 her subsequent story, 143. 
 Sinai, 137-140. 
 Sipylus, 82. 
 Slang, 44.
 
 Index 
 
 397 
 
 Slavery, 3, 5, 168, 180. 
 
 Smyrna, 81. 
 
 Socrates, historian, 20 n. 2, 56 n. 2, 
 
 69, 156, 368. 
 
 Socrates, philosopher, 60, 125, 161. 
 Soldiers, 333, 343. 
 Soldiers' habits, 35; marriages, 7, 8. 
 Soothsayers, 40. 
 Sophocles Ajax, 88, 89, 332. 
 Series Biblicae, 215, 282, 386. 
 Sozomen, historian, 56 n. 2, 382. 
 Stevenson, K. L., 340 n. 1, 352. 
 Stilicho, 164, 217, 229, 230, 231, 237; 
 
 patron of Claudian, 218 ff., 229 ; and 
 
 Alaric, 228, 229. 
 Stoicism, 5, 11. 
 Strabo, 83, 320. 
 
 Sulpicius Severus, see chapter xii. 
 passim. 
 
 his birth and early years, 282, 283; 
 
 loses his wife, 283; 
 
 forsakes the world, 283; 
 
 does not forsake literature, 283 ; 
 
 literary exponent of St Martin, 284 ; 
 
 his correspondence with Paulinus, 
 284, 285; 
 
 his humour, 284; 
 
 builds a baptistery, 285; 
 
 his brilliance, 285; 
 
 his religious temper, 281, 285; 
 
 character of his writings, 286, 287 ; 
 
 his use of Virgil, 287; 
 
 his credulity, 287-291; 
 
 his good faith, 288; 
 
 a sound judge of character, 291-4; 
 
 and Maximus, 291, 292, 294; 
 
 and Priscillianism, 292-4; 
 
 his writings, 294-7; 
 
 his Chronicle, 284, 294-6; 
 
 and the Prophets, 295; 
 
 his Life of Martin, 131, 296 f. ; its 
 success, 297 ; 
 
 his Dialogue, 296 f.; 
 
 his millenarism, 295, 297, 298; 
 
 and ill-will of bishops, 299; 
 
 did he become a Pelagian? 300, 301. 
 Symmachus, L. Avianius, Praef. Urbi, 
 364A.D., 150; 
 
 praised by AmmianusMtS^loO ; met 
 Libanius, 151; 
 
 his house burnt by mob, 152; 
 
 his verses, 103, 159. 
 Symmachus, Q. Aurelius, a representa- 
 tive of Eoman society, 150 ; 
 
 character of his correspondence, as 
 edited by his son, 149, 158; 
 
 his own opinion of his letters, 149, 
 158; 
 
 his monument, 149; 
 
 his high birth, 150, 169 ; a gentle- 
 man, 170; 
 
 his education, 150; 
 
 Symmachus, Q. Aurelius: 
 
 not a philosopher, 150; not very 
 
 intelligent, 170; 
 
 narrow range of his interests, 169; 
 perhaps a pupil of Minervius, 151; 
 his style, 151, 158, 165; 
 his panegyrics, 151, 156; 
 with Valentinian on campaign a- 
 
 gainst Germans, 151; 
 his friendship with Ausonius, 102, 
 
 115, 152; 
 
 pro-consul of Africa, 152; 
 marries Kusticiana, 152, 159; 
 his speeches, 153; his Relationes, 
 
 154; 
 
 and the altar of Victory, 153-155 ; 
 sends Augustine to Milan, 108, 156, 
 
 208; 
 
 episode of Maximus, 156; 
 episode of Eugenius, 157 ; 
 affair of Gildo, 157; 
 his letters, 158-162, 164-168; 
 as son, 159; 
 as father, 159-162; 
 his valetudinarianism, 159; 
 his daughter, 159, 160; 
 gives games for his son, 160-162; 
 his views on friendship, 162; 
 and bishops, 164; and professors, 
 
 165; 
 
 Gibbon's opinion of him, 166; 
 he ignores Christianity, 167, 171; 
 a champion of paganism, 169, 171 ; 
 scarcely alludes to Empire, 167; 
 but evidence for state of Empire, 167 ; 
 and the Senate, 167, 168; 
 his villas, 167; 
 on slaves, 168; 
 and the chariot, 154, 169; 
 his death, 157; 
 in the Saturnalia, 176, 179. 
 Symmachus, Q. Fabius, 
 edited his father's letters, 149 ; 
 made Quaestor by Eugenius, 157, 
 
 160; 
 
 made Praetor by Honorius, 160; 
 his marriage, 162. 
 Syncretism, 181. 
 
 Synesius, see chapter xiv. passim. 
 his ancestry, 322; his brother, 323, 
 
 336, 343; . 
 birth, 323; 
 boyhood, 320, 323; 
 his dogs, 320, 337, 342, 350; 
 his horses, 320, 336; 
 his slaves, 181 n. 1, 191 ; 
 his love of Gyrene and its history, 
 
 321, 322, 324, 344; 
 his mind and nature, 322, 338, 339, 
 
 352* 
 
 his style, 322, 330, 335, 340, 351 ; 
 his love of quiet, 323, 336;
 
 398 
 
 Index 
 
 Synesius: 
 
 his use of philosophic terms, 323, 349; 
 his friendship with Hypatia, 323, 
 
 337, 339, 342, 344; 
 his visits to Alexandria, 323, 330, 
 
 337, 351; 
 
 goes to Constantinople, 324; 
 his adventures there, 329; 
 his friends there, 324, 329, 334; 
 his speech de Regno, 325-327 ; 
 his book on Providence, 327, 328, 337 ; 
 leaves Constantinople, 329; 
 returns to Gyrene, 330; 
 voyage from Alexandria to Cyrene, 
 
 330-4; 
 
 his MSS., 330 n. 1; 
 his thoughts on Homer, 333 ; 
 his life in Cyrenaica, 334, 335 ; 
 his marriage, 337; 
 his views on women, 337; 
 his visit to Athens, 337, 338; 
 his book Dio, 339; 
 his philosophy, 338, 340, 341, 354; 
 his movement toward Christianity, 
 
 329, 340, 346-8; 
 on Dreams, 341, 342; 
 his Praise of Baldness, 342, 343; 
 his vigour against barbarian in- 
 vaders, 343-6; 
 his hymns, 346, 353-6; 
 elected bp of Ptolemais, 349 ; 
 his hesitation about accepting 
 
 bishopric, 349-351; 
 had he as bp to part with his wife? 
 
 350; 
 
 his difficulties as bp, 351-353; 
 loses his children, 351, 352; 
 his conduct as bp, 352, 353; 
 Mrs Browning's judgment on him, 
 
 322, 354; 
 Mrs Browning's rendering of Hymn 
 
 ix., 355. 
 
 Table-talk, 179, 180. 
 
 Tacitus, 38, 287. 
 
 Taurobolium, 163, 192. 
 
 Taxation of middle class, 4, 36, 37; 
 
 methods, 164, 167, 230. 
 Tennyson on Quintus, 92 ; Death of 
 
 CEnone, 85, 95; on Catullus, 113 
 
 n. 1, 304; on Virgil, 184. 
 Tertullian, 3, 108, 236, 252, 253, 255, 
 
 260 n. 1, 263, 267, 368, 385. 
 Thecla, 127, 131, 136, 241, 378. 
 Theodorus, affair of, 30, 31. 
 Theodosius, father of Theodosius I., 
 
 152, 225. 
 Theodosius I., 32, 102, 121, 156, 157, 
 
 224, 225, 229, 241; as a star, 228, 
 
 234, 235. 
 
 Theodosius II., 106, 382. 
 
 Theognis, 310. 
 
 Theophilus, bp of Alexandria, 291, 
 
 325, 347, 350, 351, 353. 
 Therapeutae, 360. 
 Theresa, 262 n. 1. 
 Theurgy, 58, 192, 340. 
 Thomas, St, his bones brought to 
 
 Edessa, 142; his Acts, 142, 370. 
 Thucydides and Christianity, 68. 
 Tibullus, 305. 
 Titus of Bostra, 66. 
 Travel in Roman world, 125 f. 
 Tribigild, 232, 325, 327. 
 Trismegistus, see Hermes. 
 Troy, its capture in Quintus and in 
 
 Virgil, 86, 87; romance of Troy, 
 
 359. 
 
 Uncle Tom's Cabin, 384. 
 Ursicinus, 21, 22, 23, 24, 28. 
 Utopias, 359. 
 
 Valens, Emperor, 30, 31, 131, 229. 
 Valentinian I., 42, 102, 114, 115, 151, 
 
 152, 229. 
 
 Valentinian II., 154, 156, 210. 
 Verecundia imperialis, 14, 43. 
 Verney papers, 148. 
 Vestal virgins, 127, 153, 155, 170, 270. 
 Vicisti Galilaie, 29. 
 Victory, altar of, 153-155, 156, 157, 
 
 240, 269-273. 
 Virgil, see chapter viii. 
 
 on Roman Empire, 8; 
 
 and Augustus, 216; 
 
 on Italy, 183; 
 
 charm of Aeneid, 11, 108, 111; 
 
 Lucretius and Virgil, 305; 
 
 voyage of Aeneas, 83, 84. 
 
 Augustine and Virgil, 108, 184, 198 ; 
 
 Jerome and Virgil, 132; 
 
 Macrobius and Virgil, 181-185 ; 
 
 Virgil the embodiment of all know- 
 ledge, 181; 
 
 Virgil, a magician, 368 n. 2. 
 
 passages discussed 
 
 Aen. iii. 270-293, 83, 84; 
 iii. 21, 182: 
 iii. 284, 183. 
 Virgin Mary, 242. 
 Virgins, Christian, 127, 300; 
 
 education of a nun, 128, 129. 
 
 Woman and the Church, see ch. vi., 
 127 f. 
 
 Zosimus, 31 n. 5, 217 n. 1, 228, 230, 
 287. 
 
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