{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_34122/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_34122","id":"gutenberg_34122","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/34122","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - Ancient","Rome -- Religion","Rome -- Social life and customs"],"text":"ROMAN SOCIETY\n\n\n                                  FROM\n\n                        NERO TO MARCUS AURELIUS\n\n\n                                   BY\n                            SAMUEL DILL, M.A.\n  HON. LITT.D. DUBLIN, HON. LL.D. EDINBURGH, HON. FELLOW AND LATE TUTOR,\n                             C.C.C., OXFORD;\nPROFESSOR OF GREEK IN QUEEN\u2019S COLLEGE, BELFAST; AUTHOR OF \u201cROMAN SOCIETY\n                IN THE LAST CENTURY OF THE WESTERN EMPIRE\u201d\n\n\n\nMACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED\nST. MARTIN\u2019S STREET, LONDON\n1925\n\n\n\n\n\n                                COPYRIGHT\n\n\n                           _First Edition 1904_\n\n                          _Second Edition 1905_\n\n            _Reprinted December 1905, 1911, 1919, 1920, 1925_\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                         PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN\n\n\n\n\n\n                                 PREFACE\n\n\nThere must always be something arbitrary in the choice and isolation of a\nperiod of social history for special study. No period can, from one point\nof view, be broken off and isolated from the immemorial influences which\nhave moulded it, from the succession of coming ages which it will help to\nfashion. And this is specially true of the history of a race at once so\naggressive, yet so tenacious of the past, as the Roman. The national fibre\nwas so tough, and its tone and sentiment so conservative under all\nexternal changes, that when a man knows any considerable period of Roman\nsocial history, he may almost, without paradox, be said to know a great\ndeal of it from Romulus to Honorius.\n\nYet, as in the artistic drama there must be a beginning and an end,\nalthough the action can only be ideally severed from what has preceded and\nwhat is to follow in actual life, so a limited space in the collective\nhistory of a people may be legitimately set apart for concentrated study.\nBut as in the case of the drama, such a period should possess a certain\nunity and intensity of moral interest. It should be a crisis and\nturning-point in the life of humanity, a period pregnant with momentous\nissues, a period in which the old order and the new are contending for\nmastery, or in which the old is melting into the new. Above all, it should\nbe one in which the great social and spiritual movements are incarnate in\nsome striking personalities, who may give a human interest to dim forces\nof spiritual evolution.\n\nSuch a period, it seems to the writer of this book, is that which he now\npresents to the reader. It opens with the self-destruction of lawless and\nintoxicated power; it closes with the realisation of Plato\u2019s dream of a\nreign of the philosophers. The revolution in the ideal of the principate,\nwhich gave the world a Trajan, a Hadrian, and a Marcus Aurelius in place\nof a Caligula and a Nero, may not have been accompanied by any change of\ncorresponding depth in the moral condition of the masses. But the world\nenjoyed for nearly a century an almost unexampled peace and prosperity,\nunder skilful and humane government. The civic splendour and social\ncharities of the Antonine age can be revived by the imagination from the\nabundant remains and records of the period. Its materialism and social\nvices will also sadden the thoughtful student of its literature and\ninscriptions. But if that age had the faults of a luxurious and highly\norganised civilisation, it was also dignified and elevated by a great\neffort for reform of conduct, and a passion, often, it is true, sadly\nmisguided, to rise to a higher spiritual life and to win the succour of\nunseen Powers. To the writer of this book, this seems to give the Antonine\nage its great distinction and its deepest interest for the student of the\nlife of humanity. The influence of philosophy on the legislation of the\nAntonines is a commonplace of history. But its practical effort to give\nsupport and guidance to moral life, and to refashion the old paganism, so\nas to make it a real spiritual force, has perhaps hardly yet attracted the\nnotice which it deserves. It is one great object of this book to show how\nthe later Stoicism and the new Platonism, working in eclectic harmony,\nstrove to supply a rule of conduct and a higher vision of the Divine\nworld.\n\nBut philosophy failed, as it will probably fail till some far-off age, to\nfind an anodyne for the spiritual distresses of the mass of men. It might\nhold up the loftiest ideal of conduct; it might revive the ancient gods in\nnew spiritual power; it might strive to fill the interval between the\nremote Infinite Spirit and the life of man with a host of mediating and\nsuccouring powers. But the effort was doomed to failure. It was an\nesoteric creed, and the masses remained untouched by it. They longed for a\nDivine light, a clear, authoritative voice from the unseen world. They\nsought it in ever more blind and passionate devotion to their ancient\ndeities, and in all the curiosity of superstition. But the voice came to\nthem at last from the regions of the East. It came through the worships of\nIsis and Mithra, which promised a hope of immortality, and provided a\nsacramental system to soothe the sense of guilt and prepare the trembling\nsoul for the great ordeal on the verge of another world. How far these\neastern systems succeeded, and where they failed, it is one great purpose\nof this book to explain.\n\nThe writer, so far as he knows himself, has had no _arri\u00e8re pens\u00e9e_ in\ndescribing this great moral and spiritual movement. As M. Boissier has\npointed out, the historian of the Antonine age is free to treat paganism\napart from the growth of the Christian Church. The pagan world of that age\nseems to have had little communication with the loftier faith which,\nwithin a century and a half from the death of M. Aurelius, was destined to\nseize the sceptre. To Juvenal, Tacitus, and Pliny, to Plutarch, Dion\nChrysostom, Lucian, and M. Aurelius, the Church is hardly known, or known\nas an obscure off-shoot of Judaism, a little sect, worshipping a\n\u201ccrucified Sophist\u201d in somewhat suspicious retirement, or more favourably\ndistinguished by simple-minded charity. The modern theologian can hardly\nbe content to know as little of the great movement in the heathen world\nwhich prepared or deferred the victory of the Church.\n\nIt will be evident to any critical reader that the scope of this book is\nstrictly limited. As in a former work on the Society of the later Empire,\nattention has been concentrated on the inner moral life of the time, and\ncomparatively little space has been given to its external history and the\nmachinery of government. The relation of the Senate to the Emperor in the\nfirst century, and the organisation of the municipal towns have been dwelt\non at some length, because they affected profoundly the moral character of\nthe age. On the particular field which the writer has surveyed, Dean\nMerivale, Dr. Mahaffy, Professor Bury, and Mr. Capes have thrown much\nlight by their learning and sympathy. But these distinguished writers have\napproached the period from a different point of view from that of the\npresent author, and he believes that he has not incurred the serious peril\nof appearing to compete with them. He has, as a first duty, devoted\nhimself to a complete survey of the literature and inscriptions of the\nperiod. References to the secondary authorities and monographs which he\nhas used will be found in the notes. But he owes a special obligation to\nFriedl\u00e4nder, Zeller, R\u00e9ville, Schiller, Boissier, Martha, Peter, and\nMarquardt, for guidance and suggestion. He must also particularly\nacknowledge his debt to M. Cumont\u2019s exhaustive work on the monuments of\nMithra. Once more he has to offer his warmest gratitude to his learned\nfriend, the Rev. Charles Plummer, Fellow of C.C.C., Oxford, for the\npatience and judgment with which he has revised the proof sheets. His\nthanks are also due to the Messrs. R. and R. Clark\u2019s reader, for the\nscrupulous accuracy which has saved the author much time and labour.\n\n_September 19, 1904._\n\n\n\n\n\n                                 CONTENTS\n\n\n                                  BOOK I\n\n                                CHAPTER I\n\n                     THE ARISTOCRACY UNDER THE TERROR\n\nHow far the Antonine age is marked by a moral and spiritual\nrevolution\u2014Light which Seneca throws on the moral condition of his class\nin Nero\u2019s reign\u2014Value of his testimony\u2014His pessimism\u2014Human degeneracy the\nresult of selfish greed and luxury\u2014Picture of contemporary society\u2014Cruel\nselfishness and the _taedium vitae_\u2014The _Ardelio_\u2014The terror under which\nSeneca lived\u2014Seneca\u2019s ideal of the principate expounded to Nero in the _De\nClementia_\u2014The character of Nero\u2014Taint in the blood of the Domitii\u2014Nero at\nfirst showed glimpses of some better qualities\u2014How he was injured by the\nambition to be an artist\u2014False aestheticism and insane profusion\u2014Feeling\nof Tacitus as to his time\u2014His career\u2014Views as to his impartiality as a\nhistorian\u2014He was under complex influences\u2014His chief motive as a\nhistorian\u2014He is not a political doctrinaire\u2014He is avenging a moral, not a\npolitical ideal\u2014His pessimism\u2014His prejudices and limitations\u2014His ideal of\neducation and character\u2014His hesitating religious faith\u2014His credulity and\nhis scepticism\u2014His view of the corrupting influence of despotic power\u2014The\ninfluence of imperial example\u2014Profusion of the early Caesars, leading to\nmurder and confiscation in order to replenish their treasury\u2014Dangers of\nlife about the court from espionage\u2014Causes of delation\u2014Its temptations and\nits great rewards\u2014The secret of the imperial terror\u2014Various theories of\nit\u2014Was the Senate a real danger?\u2014Its impotence in spite of its prestige\nand claims\u2014The philosophic opposition\u2014Was it really\nrevolutionary?\u2014\u201cScelera sceleribus tuenda\u201d\u2014The undefined position of the\nprincipate\u2014Its working depended greatly on the character of the Emperor\nfor the time\u2014Pliny\u2019s ideal of the principate\u2014The danger from\npretenders\u2014Evil effects of astrology\u2014The degradation of the aristocracy\nunder Nero and Domitian illustrated from the Pisonian conspiracy\u2014and the\nYear of the Four Emperors\u2014The reign of Domitian\u2014Its puzzling character\u2014Its\nstrange contrasts\u2014The terrors of its close\u2014Confiscation and massacre\u2014The\nfunereal banquet\n\n                                                                Pages 1-57\n\n                                CHAPTER II\n\n                        THE WORLD OF THE SATIRIST\n\nJuvenal and Tacitus compared\u2014Social position and experience of\nJuvenal\u2014Juvenal and Martial deal with the same features of society\u2014Their\nmotives compared\u2014Character of Martial\u2014The moral standard of Juvenal\u2014His\nhumanity and his old Roman prejudices\u2014He unites the spirit of two\ndifferent ages\u2014His rhetorical pessimism\u2014His sweeping\ngeneralisations\u2014Abnormal specimens become types\u2014Roman luxury at its\nheight\u2014Yet similar extravagance is denounced for five centuries\u2014Such\njudgments need qualification\u2014The great social changes depicted by Juvenal,\nsome of which he misunderstands\u2014Roman respect for birth\u2014The decay of the\naristocracy and its causes\u2014Aristocratic poverty and servility\u2014How the\nearly Emperors lowered senatorial dignity\u2014Aristocratic gladiators and\nactors\u2014Nero made bohemianism the fashion\u2014\u201cThe Legend of Bad Women\u201d\u2014Its\nuntrustworthiness and defects of treatment\u2014High ideals of womanhood among\ncontemporaries of Juvenal\u2014He is influenced by old Roman prejudice\u2014Juvenal\nhates the \u201cnew woman\u201d as much as the vicious woman\u2014The emancipation of\nwomen began in the second century B.C.\u2014Higher culture of women and their\ngrowing influence on public affairs\u2014Juvenal\u2019s dislike of the oriental\nworships and their female devotees\u2014This is another old movement\u2014The\ninfluence of Judaism at Rome, even in the Imperial household\u2014Women in\nJuvenal\u2019s day were exposed to serious dangers\u2014The corruptions of the\ntheatre and the circus\u2014Intrigues with actors and slaves\u2014The invasion of\nHellenism\u2014Its history\u2014The Hellenism of the Emperors\u2014The lower Hellenism\nwhich Juvenal attacks\u2014Social and economic causes of the movement\u2014Greek\ntutors and professors\u2014The medical profession chiefly recruited from\nforeigners\u2014The character of the profession in those days\u2014The astrologer\nand the parasite\u2014The client of the early Empire\u2014His degradation and his\nhardships\u2014General poverty\u2014The contempt for trade and industry\u2014The growth\nof captation\u2014The worship of wealth\u2014The cry of the poor\n\n                                                               Pages 58-99\n\n                               CHAPTER III\n\n                       THE SOCIETY OF THE FREEDMEN\n\nThe rise of the freedmen a great movement\u2014Roman prejudice against them\nexpressed in the literature of the age\u2014Economic and social causes of the\nmovement\u2014Trade and industry despised\u2014The freedmen occupied a vacant\nplace\u2014Causes of the contempt for them\u2014Their many vices and vulgar\ntaste\u2014Yet their rise was a hopeful sign\u2014The freedmen in imperial\noffice\u2014The policy of the early Emperors to employ freedmen in their\nbureaux\u2014Vitellius the first Emperor to employ Equites as imperial\nsecretaries\u2014Hadrian confined the three great ministries to men of\nequestrian rank\u2014The great imperial freedmen\u2014Polybius, Claudius Etruscus,\nand Abascantus\u2014Their career and their immense power described by\nStatius\u2014The intrigues and crimes of the freedmen of Claudius\u2014The insolence\nof Pallas\u2014The wealth of the freedmen and its sources\u2014Their luxurious\ndisplay\u2014The baths of Cl. Etruscus and the gardens of Entellus\u2014Yet the\nfreedmen were seldom admitted to equal rank with the aristocracy\u2014The\nSenate flattered and despised them\u2014The doubtful position of\nfreedwomen\u2014Plebeian Aspasias\u2014The influence of Acte, Caenis, and\nPanthea\u2014Manumission\u2014It was often not a very abrupt change\u2014The better side\nof slave life\u2014Trusted and favourite slaves\u2014How they could obtain their\nfreedom\u2014Slaves employed in offices of trust\u2014The growing _peculium_\u2014The\nclose tie between patron and freedman\u2014The freedman gets a start in\ntrade\u2014His rapid rise in wealth\u2014His vulgar ostentation\u2014The _Satiricon_ of\nPetronius\u2014Theories as to its motive, date and authorship\u2014Its author\nprobably the C. Petronius of Nero\u2019s reign\u2014His character in Tacitus\u2014His\nprobable motive\u2014The literary character and scene of the _Satiricon_\u2014The\ncharacter of the Greek adventurers\u2014Trimalchio\u2019s dinner, to which they are\ninvited\u2014Sketch of Trimalchio\u2019s career\u2014The dinner\u2014Carving to music\u2014Dishes\ndescend from the ceiling\u2014Wine 100 years old\u2014Confused recollections of\nHomer\u2014Hannibal at the Trojan war\u2014Rope-dancers and tales of witchcraft\u2014The\nmanners of Fortunata\u2014The conversation of some of the guests\u2014True bourgeois\nvulgarity\u2014Grumbling about the management of the aediles\u2014\u201cEverything is\ngoing back\u2014It all arises from neglect of religion\u201d\u2014The coming gladiatorial\nshow, when there will be plenty of blood\u2014The education of a freedman\u2019s\nson\u2014\u201cYou learn for profit\u201d\u2014Fast and furious\u2014The ladies get drunk, and\nTrimalchio gives an unflattering account of his wife\u2019s history\u2014He gives\ndirections to his friend, the stone-cutter, for the erection of his\nmonument\u2014He has himself laid out for dead, and the horn-blowers sound his\nlament\n\n                                                             Pages 100-137\n\n                                 BOOK II\n\n                                CHAPTER I\n\n                     THE CIRCLE OF THE YOUNGER PLINY\n\nThe contrast between the pictures of society in Juvenal and in Pliny\u2014They\nbelonged to different worlds\u2014They were also of very different\ntemperaments\u2014Moral contrasts side by side in every age\u2014There were puritan\nhomes in Italy, even in the worst days\u2014Influence of old Roman tradition\nand country life\u2014The circle at Como\u2014Pliny\u2019s youth and early\ntraining\u2014Character of the Elder Pliny\u2014His immense industry\u2014Retreats of old\nRoman virtue\u2014The character and reforms of Vespasian\u2014His endowment of\neducation\u2014The moral influence of Quintilian on Roman youth\u2014Pliny\u2019s student\nfriends\u2014His relations with the Stoic circle\u2014His reverence for Fannia\u2014His\ncareer at the Bar\u2014He idealises the practice in the Centumviral\ncourt\u2014Career of M. Aquilius Regulus, the great delator and\nadvocate\u2014Pliny\u2019s passion for fame\u2014The crowd of literary amateurs in his\nday\u2014Pliny and Martial\u2014Pliny\u2019s relation to the literary movement of his\ntime\u2014His admiration for Cicero\u2014His reverence for Greece\u2014He once wrote a\nGreek tragedy\u2014His apology for his loose verses\u2014His ambition as an orator,\nand canons of oratorical style\u2014Pliny\u2019s Letters compared with Cicero\u2019s\u2014The\nmerits and fame of the Letters\u2014Their arrangement\u2014They are a memorial of\nthe social life and literary tone of the time\u2014The character of Silius\nItalicus\u2014Literary coteries\u2014Pliny\u2019s friendship with Suetonius\u2014The devotion\nof literary amateurs to poetic composition and its causes\u2014The influence of\nthe great Augustan models read at school\u2014Signs of decay in literature\u2014The\ngrowing love of the archaic style\u2014Immense literary ambition of the\ntime\u2014Attempts of Nero and Domitian to satisfy it by public literary\ncompetitions\u2014The plague of recitations\u2014Pliny believes in the duty of\nattending them\u2014The weariness and emptiness of life in the capital\u2014The\ncharm of the country\u2014Roman country seats on the Anio or the Laurentine and\nCampanian shores\u2014The sites of these villas\u2014Their furniture and\ndecorations\u2014Doubtful appreciation of works of art\u2014The gardens of the\nvilla\u2014The routine of a country gentleman\u2019s day\u2014The financial management of\nan estate\u2014Difficulties with tenants\u2014Pliny\u2019s kindness to freedmen and\nslaves\u2014The darker side of slavery\u2014Murder of a master\u2014Pliny\u2019s views on\nsuicide\u2014Tragedies in his circle\u2014Pliny\u2019s charity and optimism\u2014The\nsolidarity of the aristocratic class\u2014Pliny thinks it a duty to assist the\ncareer of promising youth\u2014The women of his circle\u2014His love for Calpurnia\nand his love letters\u2014The charity and humanitarian sentiment of the\nage\u2014_Bene fac, hoc tecum feres_\u2014The wealthy recognise the duties of\nwealth\u2014Charitable foundations of the emperors\u2014Pliny\u2019s lavish generosity,\nboth private and public\u2014Yet he is only a shining example among a crowd of\nsimilar benefactors in the Antonine age\n\n                                                             Pages 141-195\n\n                                CHAPTER II\n\n                              MUNICIPAL LIFE\n\nLittle known of country town life from Roman literature\u2014Yet the love of\nthe country was strong\u2014A relief from the strain of the capital, which,\nhowever, always maintained its attraction\u2014The Empire a realm of\ncities\u2014Immense development of urban life in the first two centuries\u2014The\nrise of Thamugadi in Numidia\u2014Great tolerance of municipal freedom under\nthe early Empire\u2014Yet there was a general drift to uniformity of\norganisation\u2014Influence of the capital\u2014The rage for travel\u2014Travelling\nbecame easy and luxurious\u2014Posting facilities on the great roads\u2014The speed\nof travelling by land and sea\u2014Growth of towns\u2014Many sprang from the\n_canabae legionis_\u2014History of Lambesi\u2014Aristocratic or timocratic character\nof municipal organisation\u2014Illustrated by the _album Canusii_\u2014The sharp\ndemarcation of social grades\u2014Yet, in the first century, the Commons had\nstill considerable power\u2014Examples from Pompeii\u2014The magistracies and\npopular election\u2014The _honorarium_ payable on admission to office\u2014The power\nof the duumvirs\u2014Position of the Curia\u2014The mode of filling its ranks\u2014Local\nEquites\u2014The origin and position of the Augustales\u2014Their organisation and\ntheir importance in the Roman world\u2014Municipal finance\u2014Direct taxation in\nthe first century almost unknown\u2014Sources of municipal revenue\u2014The objects\nof expenditure\u2014Municipal mismanagement, as in Bithynia\u2014Signs of decay in\nTrajan\u2019s reign\u2014First appointment of _Curatores_\u2014Immense private\nmunificence\u2014Examples from Pompeii, which was only a third rate town\u2014Other\ninstances\u2014Pliny\u2014The Stertinii\u2014Herodes Atticus, the prince of\nbenefactors\u2014Testimony of the Inscriptions\u2014Example of imperial\nliberality\u2014The public works of the Flavian and Antonine Emperors\u2014Feasts to\nthe populace\u2014Distributions of money, graduated according to social\nrank\u2014The motives of this munificence were mixed\u2014Yet a high ideal of the\nduties of wealth\u2014The better side of municipal life\u2014Local patriotism and\ngeneral kindly feeling\u2014But there is another side to the picture\u2014Immense\npassion for amusement, which was often debasing\u2014Games and spectacles on\n135 days in the year\u2014Description of a scene in the amphitheatre in the\nAntonine age\u2014Passion for gladiatorial shows especially in Campania\u2014Remains\nof gladiatorial barracks at Pompeii\u2014Advertisements of games\u2014Pictures on\ntombs and on the walls\u2014The shows in small country towns\u2014Shows at Cremona a\nfew days after the battle of Bedriacum\u2014Greece was little infected with the\ntaste\u2014The feeling of the philosophers\u2014Statistics as to the cost of a\ngladiatorial show\u2014How the ranks of the profession were recruited\u2014Its\nattractions\u2014Organisation of the gladiatorial schools\u2014The gladiator in\nretirement\u2014How municipal benefactors were honoured\u2014Municipal life begins\nto lose its attractions\u2014The causes of this\u2014Plutarch on municipal duty\u2014The\ngrowth of centralisation\u2014The beginning of the end\n\n                                                             Pages 196-250\n\n                               CHAPTER III\n\n                      THE COLLEGES AND PLEBEIAN LIFE\n\nThe _plebs_ of the municipal town chiefly known from the\nInscriptions\u2014Great development of a free proletariat\u2014The effects of\nmanumission\u2014The artisan class in the Inscriptions\u2014Their pride in their\ncallings\u2014Emblems on their tombs\u2014Early history of the _Collegia_\u2014Rigorous\nrestraint of their formation by Julius and Augustus\u2014The evidence of\nGaius\u2014Dangers from the colleges not imaginary\u2014Troubles in the reign of\nAurelian\u2014Yet the great movement could not be checked\u2014The means of evading\nthe law\u2014Extended liberty in reigns of M. Aurelius and Alexander\nSeverus\u2014The social forces behind the movement of combination\u2014The wish for\nfuneral rites and lasting remembrance\u2014Evidence of the Inscriptions\u2014The\nhorror of loneliness in death\u2014The funerary colleges\u2014That of Lanuvium shows\nhow the privilege granted to them might be extended\u2014Any college might\nclaim it\u2014Description of the college at Lanuvium\u2014Its foundation deed\u2014The\nfees\u2014The grants for burial\u2014The college of Aesculapius and Hygia\u2014Its\norganisation for other objects than burial\u2014Any college might assume a\nquasi-religious character\u2014The influence of religion on all ancient social\norganisation\u2014The colleges of traders\u2014Wandering merchants organise\nthemselves all over the world\u2014And old soldiers\u2014Colleges of youth for\nsporting purposes\u2014Every branch of industry was organised in these\nsocieties\u2014Evidence from Ostia, Lyons, and Rome, in the Inscriptions\u2014Clubs\nof slaves in great houses, and in that of the Emperor\u2014They were encouraged\nby the masters\u2014The organisation of the college was modelled on the\ncity\u2014Its officers bear the names of republican magistrates\u2014The number of\nmembers limited\u2014Periodical revision of the _Album_\u2014Even in the plebeian\ncolleges the gradation of rank was observed\u2014Patrons carefully sought\nfor\u2014Meeting-place of the college\u2014Description of the _Schola_\u2014Sacred\nassociations gathered round it\u2014Even the poorest made presents to decorate\nit\u2014The poor college of Silvanus at Philippi\u2014But the colleges relied on the\ngenerosity of patrons\u2014Their varying social rank\u2014Election of a patron\u2014A man\nmight be a patron of many colleges\u2014The college often received bequests to\nguard a tomb, and perform funerary rites for ever\u2014The common feasts of the\ncolleges\u2014The division of the _sportula_ by ranks\u2014Regulations as to decorum\nat college meetings\u2014The college modelled on the family\u2014Mommsen\u2019s\nopinion\u2014Fraternal feeling\u2014The slave in the college, for the time, treated\nas an equal\u2014Yet the difference of rank, even in the colleges, was probably\nnever forgotten\u2014Were the colleges really charitable foundations?\u2014The\nmilitary colleges\u2014Their object, not only to provide due burial, but to\nassist an officer throughout his career\u2014The extinction of a college\u2014The\ncollege at Alburnus in Dacia vanishes probably in the Marcomannic invasion\n\n                                                             Pages 251-286\n\n                                 BOOK III\n\n                                CHAPTER I\n\n                         THE PHILOSOPHIC DIRECTOR\n\nThe great change in the motive and character of philosophy\u2014The schools\nforsook metaphysical speculation, and devoted themselves to the\ncultivation of character\u2014Why faith in abstract thought declined, and the\nconduct of life became all important\u2014The effect of the loss of free civic\nlife and the establishment of world-empires\u2014The commonwealth of man\u2014The\ngreat _ars vivendi_\u2014Spiritual directors before the imperial times\u2014They are\nfound in every great family\u2014The power of Seneca as a private director of\nsouls\u2014How his career and experience prepared him for the office\u2014He had\nseen the inner life of the time, its sensuality, degradation, and\nremorse\u2014He was himself an ascetic, living in a palace which excited Nero\u2019s\nenvy\u2014His experience excited an evangelistic passion\u2014His conception of\nphilosophy as the art of saving souls\u2014His contempt for unpractical\nspeculation\u2014Yet he values Physics for its moral effect in elevating the\nmind to the region of eternal truth\u2014Curious examples of physical study for\nmoral ends\u2014The pessimism of Seneca\u2014Its causes in the inner secrets of his\nclass\u2014It is a lost world which must be saved by every effort\u2014Stoicism\nbecomes transfigured by moral enthusiasm\u2014Yet can philosophic religion\ndispense with dogma?\u2014Empirical rules of conduct are not enough\u2014There must\nbe true theory of conduct\u2014Seneca not a rigorous dogmatist\u2014His varying\nconceptions of God\u2014Often mingles Platonic conceptions with old Stoic\ndoctrine\u2014But all old Stoic doctrine can be found in him\u2014\u201cThe kingdom of\nHeaven is within\u201d\u2014Freedom is found in renunciation, submission to the\nUniversal Reason\u2014Whence comes the force of self-reform?\u2014The problem of\nfreedom and necessity\u2014How man may attain to moral freedom\u2014The struggle to\nrecover a primeval virtue\u2014Modifications of old Stoic theory\u2014The ideal\n_sapiens_\u2014Instantaneous conversion\u2014Ideas fatal to practical moral\nreform\u2014For practical purposes, Stoic theory must be modified\u2014The _sapiens_\na mythical figure\u2014There may be various stages of moral\nprogress\u2014Aristotelian ideas\u2014Seneca himself far from the ideal of the Stoic\nsage\u2014The men for whom Seneca is providing counsel\u2014How their weaknesses\nhave to be dealt with\u2014The \u201cars vitae\u201d develops into casuistry in the hands\nof the director\u2014Obstacles in the way to the higher life\u2014Seneca\u2019s skill in\ndealing with different cases\u2014His precepts for reform\u2014Necessity of\nconfession, self-examination, steadiness of purpose, self-denial\u2014_Vivere\nmilitare est_\u2014The real victor\u2014The mind can create its own world, and\ntriumph even over death\u2014Seneca\u2019s not the Cynic ideal of moral\nisolation\u2014Competing tendencies in Stoicism\u2014Isolated renunciation and\nsocial sympathy\u2014A citizen of two cities\u2014The great commonwealth of\nhumanity\u2014The problem of serving God and man variously solved by the\nStoics\u2014Seneca\u2019s ideas of social duty\u2014Social instinct innate\u2014Duty of help,\nforgiveness, and kindness to others\u2014The example of the Infinite\nGoodness\u2014The brotherhood of man includes the slave\u2014Seneca\u2019s attitude to\nslavery\u2014His ideal of womanhood\u2014Women may be the equals of men in culture\nand virtue\u2014The greatness of Seneca as a moral teacher\u2014He belongs to the\nmodern world, and was claimed by the Church\u2014A pagan Thomas \u00e0 Kempis\n\n                                                             Pages 289-333\n\n                                CHAPTER II\n\n                        THE PHILOSOPHIC MISSIONARY\n\nSeneca the director of an aristocratic class\u2014The masses needed a\ngospel\u2014Their moral condition\u2014The Antonine age produced a great movement\nfor their moral elevation\u2014Lucian\u2019s attitude to the Cynics\u2014His kindred with\nthem\u2014Detached view of human life and its vanity\u2014Gloomy view of the moral\nstate of the masses\u2014The call for popular evangelism\u2014Can philosophy furnish\nthe gospel?\u2014Lucian\u2019s Hermotimus\u2014The quarrels of the schools\u2014Yet they show\nreal agreement on the rule of life\u2014The fashionable sophist\u2014Rhetorical\nphilosophy despised by more earnest minds\u2014Serious preaching\u2014The sermons of\nApollonius of Tyana\u2014Sudden conversions\u2014The preaching of Musonius,\nPlutarch, and Maximus of Tyre\u2014The mystic fervour of Maximus\u2014Dion\u2019s view of\nthe Cynic preacher\u2014The \u201cmendicant monks of paganism\u201d\u2014Lucian\u2019s caricature\nof their vices\u2014Many vulgar impostors adopt the profession\u2014It offered a\ntempting field\u2014Why the charges against the Cynics must be taken with\nreserve\u2014S. Augustine\u2019s testimony\u2014Causes of the prejudice against\nCynicism\u2014Lucian\u2019s treatment of Peregrinus\u2014The history of Peregrinus\u2014The\ncredibility of the charges which Lucian makes against him\u2014He is about to\nimmolate himself at Olympia when Lucian arrives\u2014Lucian treats the\nself-martyrdom as a piece of theatrical display\u2014Yet Peregrinus may have\nhonestly desired to teach contempt for death\u2014Stoic suicide\u2014The scene at\nthe pyre\u2014The last words of Peregrinus\u2014Lucian creates a myth and sees it\ngrow\u2014Testimony of A. Gellius as to Peregrinus\u2014The power of the later\nCynicism\u2014The ideal Cynic in Epictetus\u2014An ambassador of God\u2014Kindred of\nCynicism and Monasticism\u2014Cultivated Cynics\u2014The character of Demetrius, a\nleader of the philosophic opposition\u2014Cynic attitude to popular\nreligion\u2014Oenomaus a pronounced rationalist\u2014Disbelief in oracles\u2014The\ncharacter of Demonax\u2014His great popular influence\u2014Prosecuted for neglect of\nreligious observances\u2014His sharp sayings\u2014Demonstrations of reverence for\nhim at his death\u2014The career of Dion Chrysostom\u2014His conversion during his\nexile\u2014Becomes a preacher with a mission to the Roman world\u2014The character\nof his eighty orations\u2014He is the rhetorical apostle of a few great\ntruths\u2014His idea of philosophy\u2014His pessimism about the moral state of the\nworld\u2014A materialised civilisation\u2014Warning to the people of Tarsus\u2014Rebukes\nthe feuds of the Bithynian cities\u2014A sermon at Olbia on the Black Sea\u2014The\njealousies of the Asiatic towns\u2014Prusa and Apamea\u2014Sermon on civic\nharmony\u2014He assails the vices and frivolity of the Alexandrians\u2014His prose\nidyll\u2014Simple pastoral life in Euboea\u2014The problems and vices of city life\nexposed\u2014Dion on true kingship\u2014The vision of the Two Peaks\u2014The ideal\nking\u2014The sermon at Olympia inspired by the Zeus of Pheidias\u2014Its majesty\nand benignity\u2014Sources of the idea of God\u2014The place of art in\nreligion\u2014Relative power of poetry and sculpture to express religious\ntruth\u2014Pheidias defends his anthropomorphism\u2014His Zeus a God of mercy and\npeace\n\n                                                             Pages 334-383\n\n                               CHAPTER III\n\n                        THE PHILOSOPHIC THEOLOGIAN\n\nThe pagan revival and the growth of superstition called for a theodicy\u2014Old\nRoman religion was still powerful\u2014But there was an immense accretion of\nworships from the conquered countries\u2014And an immense growth in the belief\nin genii, dreams, omens, and oracles\u2014Yet amid the apparent chaos, there\nwas a tendency, in the higher minds, to monotheism\u2014The craving for a moral\nGod in sympathy with man\u2014The ideas of Apuleius, Epictetus, M. Aurelius\u2014The\nchange in the conception of God among the later Stoics\u2014God no longer mere\nForce or Fate or impersonal Reason\u2014He is a Father and Providence, giving\nmoral support and comfort\u2014The attitude of the later Stoics to external\nworship and anthropomorphic imagery\u2014How was the ancient worship to be\nreconciled with purer conceptions of the Divine?\u2014God being so remote,\nphilosophy may discover spiritual help in all the religions of the\npast\u2014The history of Neo-Pythagoreanism\u2014Apollonius of Tyana\u2014His attitude to\nmythology\u2014His mysticism and ritualism\u2014Plutarch\u2019s associations and early\nhistory\u2014His devotion to Greek tradition\u2014His social life\u2014His Lives of the\ngreat Greeks and Romans\u2014He is a moralist rather than a pure\nphilosopher\u2014The tendency of philosophy in his day was towards the\nformation of character\u2014The eclecticism of the time\u2014Plutarch\u2019s attitude to\nPlatonism and Stoicism\u2014His own moral system was drawn from various\nschools\u2014Precepts for the formation of character\u2014Plutarch on freedom and\nnecessity\u2014His contempt for rhetorical philosophy\u2014Plutarch on\nTranquillity\u2014How to grow daily\u2014The pathos of life\u2014The need for a higher\nvision\u2014How to reconcile the God of philosophy with the ancient mythology\nwas the great problem\u2014Plutarch\u2019s conception of God\u2014His cosmology mainly\nthat of the _Timaeus_\u2014The opposition between the philosophic idea of God\nand the belief of the crowd was an old one\u2014Yet great political and\nspiritual changes had made it a more urgent question\u2014The theology of\nMaximus of Tyre\u2014His pure conception of God, combined with tolerance of\nlegend and symbolism\u2014Myth not to be discarded, but interpreted by\nphilosophy, to discover the kernel of truth which is reverently veiled\u2014The\neffort illustrated by the treatise of Plutarch on Isis and Osiris\u2014Its\ntheory of Evil and daemonic powers\u2014The Platonist daemonology\u2014The history\nof daemons traced from Hesiod\u2014The conception of daemons justified by\nMaximus\u2014The daemonology of the early Greek philosophers\u2014The nature of\ndaemons as conceived by Maximus and Plutarch\u2014The ministering spirits of\nMaximus\u2014The theory of bad daemons enabled Plutarch to explain the\ngrossness of myth and ritual\u2014The bad daemons a _damnosa hereditas_\u2014The\ntriumphant use made of the theory by the Christian Apologists\u2014The\ndaemonology of Plutarch was also used to explain the inspiration or the\nsilence of the ancient oracles\u2014\u201cThe oracles are dumb\u201d\u2014Yet in the second\ncentury, to some extent, Delphi revived\u2014Questions as to its inspiration\ndebated\u2014The quality of Delphic verse\u2014The theory of inspiration\u2014Concurrent\ncauses of it\u2014The daemon of the shrine may depart\u2014The problem of\ninspiration illustrated by a discussion on the daemon of Socrates\u2014What was\nit?\u2014The result of the inquiry is that the human spirit, at its best, is\nopen to influences from another world\n\n                                                             Pages 384-440\n\n                                 BOOK IV\n\n                                CHAPTER I\n\n                               SUPERSTITION\n\nSuperstition a term of shifting meaning\u2014Plutarch\u2019s treatise on\nSuperstition\u2014Why it is worse than atheism\u2014Immense growth of superstition\nin the first century, following on a decay of old religion\u2014Forgotten rites\nand fallen temples\u2014The revival of Augustus\u2014The power of astrology\u2014The\nEmperors believed in it and dreaded it\u2014Tiberius and Thrasyllus at\nCapreae\u2014The attitude of Nero, Otho, and Vitellius to astrology\u2014The\nsuperstition of the Flavian Emperors\u2014And of Hadrian and M. Aurelius\u2014The\nsuperstition of the literary class\u2014The Elder Pliny\u2014Suetonius\u2014Tacitus\u2014His\nwavering treatment of the supernatural\u2014How it may be explained by the\ncharacter of the age\u2014Epictetus on divination\u2014The superstition of Aelian of\nPraeneste\u2014His credulity and his anathemas on the sceptics\u2014P. Aelius\nAristides\u2014His history and character\u2014His illness of thirteen years\u2014Was he a\nsimple devotee?\u2014The influence of rhetorical training on him\u2014The temples of\nhealing in his time\u2014Their organisation and routine\u2014Recipes by dreams in\nthe temples of Asclepius, Isis, and Serapis\u2014Medical skill combined with\nsuperstition\u2014The amusements and cheerful social life of these\ntemple-hospitals were powerful healers\u2014The ailments of Aristides and his\njourneys in quest of health\u2014Strange divine prescriptions astonish the\nmedical attendants\u2014Their own heroic remedies\u2014Epiphanies of the Gods\u2014The\nreturn of his rhetorical power\u2014The debt is repaid in the Sacred\nOrations\u2014The treatise on dreams by Artemidorus\u2014His idea of founding a\nscience of dreams\u2014His enormous industry in collecting materials\u2014His\ncontempt for less scientific interpreters\u2014His classification of dreams and\nmethods of interpretation\u2014The new oracles\u2014The failure of the old was not\nso complete as it is sometimes represented\u2014The revival of Delphi\u2014The\nhistory of the oracle of Alexander of Abonoteichos\u2014His life and\ncharacter\u2014How he played on the superstition of the Paphlagonians\u2014The\nbusiness-like management of the oracle\u2014Its fees and revenue\u2014Its secret\nmethods\u2014Its fame spreads everywhere\u2014Oracles in many tongues\u2014Rutilianus, a\ngreat noble, espouses Alexander\u2019s daughter\u2014The Epicureans resist the\nimpostor, but in vain\u2014The mysteries of Glycon\u2014Alexander, a second\nEndymion\u2014Immense superstition of the time\u2014Apotheosis in the air\u2014The cult\nof Antinous\u2014And of M. Aurelius\u2014In Croton there were more gods than\nmen!\u2014The growing faith in daemons and genii\u2014The evidence of inscriptions\nas to the adoption of local deities all over the world\u2014Revived honours of\nclassic heroes\u2014The belief in recurring miracle\u2014Christian and pagan were\nequally credulous\u2014The legend of the \u201cThundering Legion\u201d\u2014Sorcery in\nThessaly\u2014The lawless romance of Apuleius\n\n                                                             Pages 443-483\n\n                                CHAPTER II\n\n                          BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY\n\nThe conception of immortality determined by the idea of God\u2014Religion\nsupplies the assurance denied by philosophy\u2014Vagueness of the conception\nnatural and universal\u2014\u201cIt doth not yet appear what we shall be\u201d\u2014Confused\nand various beliefs on the subject in the Early Empire\u2014The cult of the\nManes in old Italian piety\u2014The guardianship of the tomb, and call for\nperpetual remembrance\u2014The eternal sleep\u2014The link between the living and\nthe dead\u2014The craving for continued human sympathy with the shade in its\neternal home\u2014The Lemures and the Lemuria\u2014Visitations from the other\nworld\u2014The _Mundus_ in every Latin town\u2014The general belief in apparitions\nillustrated from the _Philopseudes_ of Lucian, from the Younger Pliny,\nSuetonius, Dion Cassius, and Maximus of Tyre\u2014The eschatology of Virgil a\nmixture of different faiths\u2014Scenes from the Inferno of the _Aeneid_\u2014Its\nPythagorean elements\u2014How Virgil influenced later conceptions of the future\nstate\u2014Scepticism and credulity in the first century\u2014Perpetuity of heathen\nbeliefs\u2014The inscriptions, as to the future state, must be interpreted with\ncare and discrimination\u2014The phrases often conventional, and springing from\ndifferent orders of belief\u2014Inscriptions frankly atheistic or\nsensualist\u2014Ideas of immortality among the cultivated class\u2014The influence\nof Lucretius\u2014The Stoic idea of coming life, and the Peripatetic\u2014The\ninfluence of Platonism\u2014In the last age of the Republic, and the first of\nthe Empire, educated opinion was often sceptical or negative\u2014J. Caesar,\nthe Elder Pliny, Tacitus\u2014The feeling of Hadrian\u2014Epictetus on\nimmortality\u2014Galen\u2014His probable influence on M. Aurelius\u2014The wavering\nattitude of M. Aurelius on immortality\u2014How he could reconcile himself by a\nsaintly ideal to the resignation of the hope of a future life\u2014His sadness\nand pessimism fully justified by the circumstances of the time\u2014\u201cThou hast\ncome to shore, quit the ship\u201d\u2014Change in the religious character long\nbefore M. Aurelius\u2014Seneca\u2019s theology as it moulded his conception of\nimmortality\u2014A new note in Seneca\u2014The influence of Pythagorean and Platonic\nconceptions in modifying Stoicism\u2014The revival of Pythagoreanism in the\nfirst century\u2014Its tenets and the secret of its power\u2014Apollonius of Tyana\non immortality\u2014His meeting with the shade of Achilles\u2014Plutarch and Maximus\nof Tyre on immortality\u2014Plutarch\u2019s arguments for the faith in it\u2014The Delays\nof Divine Vengeance\u2014But, like Plato, Plutarch feels that argument on such\na subject must be reinforced by poetic imagination\u2014The myths of Thespesius\nof Soli and Timarchus in Plutarch\u2014Mythic scenery of the eternal world\n\n                                                             Pages 484-528\n\n                               CHAPTER III\n\n                          THE OLD ROMAN RELIGION\n\nThe decay of old religion in the last age of the Republic\u2014Its\ncauses\u2014Influence of Greek philosophy and rationalism\u2014Distinction drawn\nbetween the religion of philosophy and that of the State\u2014The moral and\nreligious results\u2014Sceptical conformity or desuetude of ancient rites\u2014The\nreligious revival of Augustus\u2014How far a matter of policy\u2014Ancient temples\nand worships restored\u2014The position of Pontifex Maximus\u2014How the Emperors\nutilised the dignity and kept a firm hold on the old religion\u2014The\nreligious character of the early Emperors\u2014The force of antiquarian\nsentiment in the second century\u2014The Inscriptions plainly show that the\npopular faith in old Latin religion was still strong\u2014The revival of the\nArval brotherhood\u2014Its history and ritual described\u2014A stronghold of\nimperial power\u2014How the Arval College supported and flattered the\nEmperors\u2014How the cultivated class reconciled themselves to the rudest\nforms of the ancient religion\u2014The philosophic reconciliation\u2014The influence\nof patriotism in compelling men to support a religion which was\nintertwined with all social and political life\u2014The sentiment powerful down\nto the end of paganism\u2014But other religious ideas were in the air,\npreparing the triumph of the cults of the East\n\n                                                                   529-546\n\n                                CHAPTER IV\n\n                               MAGNA MATER\n\nThe fascination of the worship of the Great Mother\u2014It was still powerful\nin the days of S. Augustine\u2014Its arrival from Pessinus in 204 B.C.\u2014The\nhistory of its growing influence\u2014The taurobolium in the second century\u2014The\nlegend and its interpretations\u2014The Megalesia in spring\u2014The priesthood\u2014The\nsacred colleges of the worship\u2014Evidence of the Inscriptions\u2014The worship in\ncountry places\u2014Vagabond priests in Thessaly described by Apuleius\u2014Picture\nof their wild orgies\u2014The problem of these eastern cults\u2014From a gross\norigin, they became transmuted into a real spiritual power\u2014The elevation\nof Magna Mater\u2014The rite of the taurobolium\u2014Its history in Asia Minor\u2014Its\nimmense influence in the last age of the Empire\u2014A challenge to the\nChurch\u2014The history of the taurobolium in the West from the\nInscriptions\u2014Description of the scene from Prudentius\u2014The connection of\nMagna Mater with Mithra and other deities\n\n                                                             Pages 547-559\n\n                                CHAPTER V\n\n                             ISIS AND SERAPIS\n\nTheir long reign in Europe\u2014Established at Peiraeus in the fourth century\nB.C.\u2014And in Asia Minor\u2014How the Egyptian cults had been transformed under\nGreek influences\u2014Greek settlers, soldiers, and travellers in Egypt from\nthe seventh century B.C.\u2014Greek and Egyptian gods identified\u2014The new\npropaganda of the Ptolemies\u2014Theories of the origin of Serapis\u2014The new\nEgyptian Trinity\u2014The influence of Greek mysticism\u2014The worship probably\nestablished in Campanian towns before 150 B.C.\u2014The religious excitement in\nItaly in the early part of the second century B.C.\u2014The Bacchanalian\nscandal\u2014The apocryphal books of Numa\u2014Efforts of the Government in the\nfirst century B.C. to repress the worship\u2014A violent struggle with varying\nfortunes\u2014The triumvirs in 42 B.C. erect a temple of Isis\u2014Persecution of\neastern worships in the reign of Tiberius\u2014Thenceforth there was little\nopposition\u2014Attitude of the Flavian Emperors\u2014Domitian builds a temple of\nIsis, 92 A.D.\u2014The Egyptian worship propagated from Alexandria by slaves,\nofficials, philosophers, and savants\u2014Votaries in the imperial\nhousehold\u2014Spread of Isiac worship through Europe\u2014It reaches York\u2014The\nsecret of its fascination\u2014The cult appealed to many kinds of mind\u2014Its\nmysticism\u2014Its charm for women\u2014Its pomp and ceremonial\u2014How a religion\noriginally gross may be transformed\u2014The zoolatry of Egypt justified as\nsymbolism by Greek philosophers\u2014But there is little trace of it in the\nIsiac worship of the West\u2014Isis becomes an all-embracing spiritual\npower\u2014And Serapis is regarded by Aristides as sovereign lord of life\u2014Yet\nthe worship never broke away from the traditions of idolatry\u2014It fostered\nan immense superstition\u2014The Petosiris\u2014But there was undoubted spiritual\npower in the worship\u2014The initiation of Lucius\u2014The faith in\nimmortality\u2014_\u03b5\u1f50\u03c8\u03cd\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9_ on tombs\u2014Impressive ritual\u2014Separation of the\npriesthood from the world\u2014Description of the daily offices\u2014Matins and\nVespers\u2014Silent meditation\u2014The great festivals of the Isiac\ncalendar\u2014Ascetic preparation\u2014The blessing of the sacred ship\u2014Description\nof the procession in Apuleius\u2014The grades of priests\u2014The sacred guilds\u2014The\nplace of women\u2014The priesthood an aggressive power\u2014The Isiac\npresbytery\u2014Priestly rule of life\u2014Tertullian holds it up as an example\u2014The\npopular charm of the Divine Mother\n\n                                                             Pages 560-584\n\n                                CHAPTER VI\n\n                          THE RELIGION OF MITHRA\n\nThe causes which in the second century A.D. prepared the triumph of\nMithra\u2014Heliolatry the natural goal of heathenism\u2014Early history of Mithra\nin the Vedas and Avestas\u2014He is a moral power from the beginning\u2014His place\nin the Zoroastrian hierarchy\u2014His relation to Ormuzd\u2014The influence of\nBabylon on the Persian worship\u2014Mithra identified with the Sun\u2014The astral\nlore of Babylonia inseparable from Mithraism\u2014Yet Mithra and the Sun are\ndistinct in the later Inscriptions\u2014How Mithra worship was modified in Asia\nMinor\u2014The influence of Greek mythology, philosophy, and art\u2014The group of\nthe Tauroctonus probably first fashioned by a Pergamene artist\u2014Mithra in\nliterature\u2014Herodotus\u2014Xenophon\u2014The _Thebaid_ of Statius\u2014Plutarch\u2014Lucian may\nhave heard the Mazdean litany\u2014Mithra\u2019s first coming to the West probably\nin the reign of Tiberius\u2014The earliest inscriptions of Mithraism belong to\nthe Flavian age\u2014At the same time, the worship is established in\nPannonia\u2014The earliest temples at Ostia and Rome\u2014The power of Mithra in the\ncapital\u2014The secret of the propaganda\u2014Soldiers were the most effective\nmissionaries of Mithra\u2014Slaves and imperial officials of every degree\npropagate the Persian faith\u2014Its progress traced around Rome and through\nvarious regions of Italy, especially to the north\u2014Mithra\u2019s chapels in the\nvalleys of the Alps and on the roads to the Danube from Aquileia\u2014Along the\nline of the Danube\u2014His remains abundant in Dacia and Pannonia\u2014Chapels at\nAquincum and Carnuntum\u2014The enthusiasm of certain legions\u2014The splendid\nremains of Mithra worship in Upper Germany in the early part of the second\ncentury A.D.\u2014Mithra passes on, through Cologne and Boulogne, to London,\nChester, York and the wall of Hadrian\u2014Mithra made least impression on W.\nGaul, Spain, and N. Africa\u2014In spite of tolerance and syncretism, Mithraism\nnever ceased to be a Persian cult\u2014The influence of astrology\u2014The share of\nBabylonia in moulding the worship\u2014Yet Greek mystic influences had a large\npart in it\u2014The descent and ascent of the soul\u2014Yet, although Mithraism came\nto be a moral creed, it never ceased to be a cosmic symbolism\u2014The great\nelemental powers\u2014The daemonology of Mithraism\u2014Its affinity with the later\nNeo Platonism\u2014The evil effect of belief in planetary influences\u2014The\nstruggle between formal and spiritual ideals of religion\u2014The craving for\nmediatorial sympathy in the moral life was urgent\u2014Mithra was a mediator\nboth in a cosmic and a moral sense\u2014He stands between Cautes and\nCautopates, and between Ormuzd and Ahriman\u2014The legend of Mithra as faintly\nrecovered from the monuments\u2014The _petra genetrix_\u2014The adoration of the\nshepherds\u2014The fountain gushing at the arrow stroke\u2014The legend of the\nmystic bull\u2014Its chase and slaughter\u2014Its death as the source of resurgent\nlife\u2014The mysterious reconciliation of Mithra and the Sun\u2014Their solemn\nagape\u2014Various interpretations of the legend\u2014Yet there was a real spiritual\nmeaning under it all\u2014A religion of strenuous combat\u2014How it touched the\nRoman soldier on the Danube\u2014Its eschatology\u2014Its promise of immortality and\nfinal triumph over evil\u2014The sacramental mystery of Mithraism\u2014The daily\noffices, and the annual festivals\u2014The mysteries of Mithra and the seven\ngrades of initiation\u2014Symbolic ceremonies\u2014The colleges of Mithra\u2014Their\ninfluence in levelling social distinctions\u2014The suspicions of the\nApologists\u2014Description of a chapel of Mithra\u2014The form of the cave always\npreserved\u2014The scene of full initiation\u2014Mithraism as an imperial cult and a\nsupport of imperial power\u2014Sketch of the history of imperial apotheosis\u2014The\nhistoric causes which aided it\u2014The influence of Egypt and Persia on the\nmovement\u2014The Persian attitude to kings\u2014The Fortune of the monarch\u2014How\nthese ideas blended with old Roman conceptions\u2014The influence of\nSun-worship in the third century, in stimulating theocratic ideas\u2014The\nEmperors appropriate the titles and insignia of the Sun\u2014The imperial house\nconsecrate a temple to Mithra at Carnuntum, twenty years before the\nconversion of Constantine\u2014Could Mithra ever have become the god of western\nEurope?\u2014His chances of success in the chaos of belief seemed promising\u2014His\nsyncretism and tolerance, yet his exclusive claims\u2014His moral charm\u2014The\nfears of the Fathers\u2014Parallels between his legend and the Bible\u2014His\nsacramental system a travesty of the mysteries of the medieval church\u2014Yet\nthere was a great gulf between the two religions\u2014The weaknesses of\nMithraism\u2014It did not appeal to women\u2014It had no Mater Dolorosa\u2014It offered\nlittle human sympathy\u2014And in its tolerance of other heathen systems lay\nits great weakness\u2014A Mithraist might be a votary of all the ancient\ngods\u2014Mithraism was rooted in nature-worship, and remained the patron of\nthe worst superstitions\u2014Mithra belonged to the order which was passing\naway\n\n                                                             Pages 585-626\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                                 BOOK I.\n\n\n                       _INFESTA VIRTUTIBUS TEMPORA_\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAPTER I\n\n\n                     THE ARISTOCRACY UNDER THE TERROR\n\n\nThe period of social history which we are about to study is profoundly\ninteresting in many ways, but not least in the many contrasts between its\nopening and its close. It opens with the tyranny of one of the worst men\nwho ever occupied a throne; it ends with the mild rule of a Stoic saint.\nIt begins in massacre and the carnage of civil strife; it closes in the\napparent triumph of the philosophic ideal, although before the end of the\nreign of the philosophers the shadows have begun to fall. The contrast of\ncharacter between the two princes is generally supposed to find a\ncorrespondence in the moral character and ideals of the men over whom they\nruled. The accession of Vespasian which, after a deadly struggle, seemed\nto bring the orgies of a brutal despotism to a close, is regarded as\nmarking not only a political, but a moral, revolution. It was the dawn of\nan age of repentance and amendment, of beneficent administration, of a\ngreat moral revival. We are bound to accept the express testimony of a\ncontemporary like Tacitus,(1) who was not prone to optimist views of human\nprogress, that along with the exhaustion of the higher class from massacre\nand reckless extravagance, the sober example of the new emperor, and the\nintroduction of fresh blood and purer manners from the provinces, had\nproduced a great moral improvement. Even among the old noblesse, whose\nyouth had fallen on the age of wild licence, it is probable that a better\ntone asserted itself at the beginning of what was recognised by all to be\na new order. The crushed and servile, who had easily learnt to imitate the\nwasteful vices of their oppressors, would probably, with equal facility,\nat least affect to conform to the simpler fashions of life which Vespasian\ninherited from his Sabine ancestors and the old farm-house at Reate.(2)\nThe better sort, represented by the circles of Persius, of Pliny and\nTacitus, who had nursed the ideal of Stoic or old Roman virtue in some\nretreat on the northern lakes or in the folds of the Apennines, emerged\nfrom seclusion and came to the front in the reign of Trajan.\n\nYet neither the language of Tacitus nor the testimony from other sources\njustify the belief in any sudden moral revolution. The Antonine age was\nundoubtedly an age of conscientious and humane government in the interest\nof the subject; it was even more an age of religious revival. But whether\nthese were accompanied by a corresponding elevation of conduct and moral\ntone among the masses may well be doubted. On the other hand the pessimism\nof satirist and historian who had lived through the darkness of the Terror\nhas probably exaggerated the corruption of the evil days. If society at\nlarge had been half as corrupt as it is represented by Juvenal, it would\nhave speedily perished from mere rottenness. The Inscriptions, the Letters\nof the younger Pliny, even the pages of Tacitus himself, reveal to us\nanother world from that of the satirist. On countless tombs we have the\nrecord or the ideal of a family life of sober, honest industry, and pure\naffection. In the calm of rural retreats in Lombardy or Tuscany, while the\ncapital was frenzied with vicious indulgence, or seething with conspiracy\nand desolated by massacre, there were many families living in almost\npuritan quietude, where the moral standard was in many respects as high as\namong ourselves. The worst period of the Roman Empire was the most\nglorious age of practical Stoicism. The men of that circle were ready, at\nthe cost of liberty or life, to brave an immoral tyranny; their wives were\neager to follow them into exile, or to die by their side.(3) And even in\nthe palace of Nero there was a spotless Octavia, and slave-girls who were\nready to defend her honour at the cost of torture and death.(4) In the\ndarkest days, the violence of the bad princes spent itself on their\nnobles, on those whom they feared, or whom they wished to plunder. The\nprovinces, even under a Tiberius, a Nero, or a Domitian, enjoyed a freedom\nfrom oppression which they seldom enjoyed under the Republic.(5) Just and\nupright governors were the rule and not the exception, and even an Otho or\na Vitellius, tainted with every private vice, returned from their\nprovincial governments with a reputation for integrity.(6) Municipal\nfreedom and self-government were probably at their height at the very time\nwhen life and liberty in the capital were in hourly peril. The great Stoic\ndoctrine of the brotherhood and equality of men, as members of a\nworld-wide commonwealth, which was destined to inspire legislation in the\nAntonine age, was openly preached in the reigns of Caligula and Nero. A\nsofter tone\u2014a modern note of pity for the miserable and succour for the\nhelpless\u2014makes itself heard in the literature of the first century.(7) The\nmoral and mental equality of the sexes was being more and more recognised\nin theory, as the capacity of women for heroic action and self-sacrifice\nwas displayed so often in the age of the tyranny and of the Stoic martyrs.\nThe old cruelty and contempt for the slave will not give way for many a\ngeneration; but the slave is now treated by all the great leaders of moral\nreform as a being of the same mould as his master, his equal, if not his\nsuperior, in capacity for virtue.\n\nThe peculiar distinction of the Antonine age is not to be sought in any\ngreat difference from the age preceding it in conduct or moral ideals\namong the great mass of men. Nor can it claim any literary distinction of\ndecided originality, except in the possession of the airy grace and\nhalf-serious mockery of Lucian. Juvenal, Tacitus, and the younger Pliny,\nSuetonius and Quintilian, Plutarch and Dion Chrysostom, were probably all\ndead before Antoninus Pius came to the throne. After Hadrian\u2019s reign pure\nRoman literature, in any worthy sense, is extinct; it dies away in that\nSahara of the higher intellect which stretches forward to the Fall of the\nEmpire. There is no great historian after Tacitus; there is no\nconsiderable poet after Statius and Juvenal, till the meteor-like\napparition of Claudian in the ominous reign of Honorius.\n\nThe material splendour and municipal life of the Antonine age are\nexternally its greatest glory. It was pre-eminently a sociable age, an age\nof cities. From the wall of Hadrian to the edge of the Sahara towns sprang\nup everywhere with as yet a free civic life. It was an age of engineers\nand architects, who turned villages into cities and built cities in the\ndesert, adorned with temples and stately arches and basilicas, and feeding\ntheir fountains from the springs of distant hills. The rich were powerful\nand popular; and never had they to pay so heavily for popularity and\npower. The cost of civic feasts and games, of forums and temples and\ntheatres, was won by flattery, or extorted by an inexorable force of\npublic opinion from their coffers. The poor were feasted and amused by\ntheir social superiors who received a deference and adulation expressed on\nhundreds of inscriptions. And it must be confessed that these records of\nambitious munificence and expectant gratitude do not raise our conception\nof either the economic or the moral condition of the age.\n\nThe glory of classic art had almost vanished; and yet, without being able\nto produce any works of creative genius, the inexhaustible vitality of the\nHellenic spirit once more asserted itself. After a long eclipse, the\nrhetorical culture of Greece vigorously addressed itself in the reign of\nHadrian to the conquest of the West. Her teachers and spiritual directors\nindeed had long been in every family of note. Her sophists were now seen\nharanguing crowds in every town from the Don to the Atlantic. The\ninfluence of the sophistic discipline in education will be felt in the\nschools of Gaul, when Visigoth and Burgundian will be preparing to assume\nthe heritage of the falling Empire.(8) From the early years of the second\ncentury can be traced that great combined movement of the Neo-Pythagorean\nand Platonist philosophies and the renovated paganism which made a last\nstand against the conquering Church in the reigns of Julian and\nTheodosius. Philosophy became a religion, and devoted itself not only to\nthe private direction of character and the preaching of a higher life, but\nto the justification and unification of pagan faith. In spite of its\nrather bourgeois ideal of material enjoyment and splendour, the Antonine\nage, at least in its higher minds, was an age of a purified moral sense\nand religious intuition. It was, indeed, an age of spiritual\ncontradictions. On the one hand, not only was the old ritual of classical\npolytheism scrupulously observed even by men like Plutarch and M.\nAurelius, but religious imagination was appropriating the deities of every\nprovince, almost of every canton, embraced by the Roman power. At the same\ntime the fecundity of superstition created hosts of new divinities and\ngenii who peopled every scene of human life.(9) On the other hand\nsyncretism was in the air. Amid all the confused ferment of devotion a\ncertain principle of unity and comprehension was asserting itself, even in\npopular religion. The old gods were losing their sharp-cut individuality;\nthe provinces and attributes of kindred deities tended to fade into one\nanother, and melt into the conception of a single central Power. The\nreligions of Egypt and the remoter East, with their inner monotheism,\nsupported by the promise of sacramental grace and the hope of immortality,\ncame in to give impetus to the great spiritual movement. The simple\npeasant might cling to his favourite god, as his Neapolitan descendant has\nhis favourite saint. But an Apuleius, an Apollonius, or an Alexander\nSeverus(10) sought a converging spiritual support in the gods and\nmysteries of every clime.\n\nPlatonist philosophy strove to give rational expression to this movement,\nto reconcile cultivated moral sense with the worships of the past, to find\na bond between the vagrant religious fancies of the crowd and the remote\nesoteric faith of the philosophic few. On the higher minds, from whatever\nquarter, a spiritual vision had opened, which was strange to the ancient\nworld, the vision of One who is no longer a mere Force, but an infinite\nFather, Creator, Providence and Guardian, from whom we come, to whom we go\nat death. Prayer to Him is a communion, not the means of winning mere\ntemporal blessings; He is not gratified by bloody sacrifice; He is\ndishonoured by immoral legend.(11) He cannot be imaged in gold or ivory\ngraven by the most cunning hand, although the idealised human form may be\nused as a secondary aid to devotion. These were some of the religious\nideas current among the best men, Dion Chrysostom, Plutarch, Maximus of\nTyre, which the Neo-Platonic school strove to harmonise with the rites and\nlegends of the past. The means by which they tried to do so, and the\nmeasure of their success, it is one purpose of this book to explain.\n\nThe Antonine age saw for a brief space the dream of Plato realised, when\nkings should be philosophers, and philosophers should be kings. Philosophy\nhad given up its detached and haughty reserve, or outspoken opposition to\nimperial power. In the second century it lent all its forces to an\nauthority which in the hands of the Antonine princes seemed to answer to\nits ideals.(12) The votaries of the higher life, after their persecution\nunder the last cruel despot, rose to an influence such as they had never\nwielded save in the Pythagorean aristocracies of southern Italy.\nPhilosophy now began to inspire legislation and statesmanship.(13) Its\nprofessors were raised to the consulship and great prefectures. Above all,\nit was incarnate, as it were, in the ruler who, whatever we may think of\nhis practical success, brought to the duties of government a loftiness of\nspiritual detachment which has never been equalled by any ruler of men.\nWhether there was any corresponding elevation of conduct or moral tone in\nthe mass of men may well be doubted by any one who has studied the\nmelancholy thoughts of the saintly emperor. Lucian and M. Aurelius seem to\nbe as hopeless about the moral condition of humanity as Seneca and\nPetronius were in the darkest days of Nero\u2019s tyranny.(14) Such opinions,\nindeed, have little scientific value. They are often the result of\ntemperament and ideals, not of trustworthy observation. But it would be\nrash to assume that heightened religious feeling and the efforts of\nphilosophy had within a hundred years worked any wide-spread\ntransformation of character. It was, however, a great step in advance that\nthe idea of the principate, expounded by Seneca, and the younger Pliny, as\na clement, watchful, infinitely laborious earthly providence had been\nrealised since the accession of Trajan. It was easier to be virtuous in\nthe reign of M. Aurelius than in the reign of Nero, and it was especially\neasier for a man of the highest social grade. The example of the prince\nfor good or evil must always powerfully influence the class who are by\nbirth or office nearest to the throne. And bad example will be infinitely\nmore corrupting when it is reinforced by terror. A fierce, capricious\ntyranny generates a class of vices which are perhaps more degrading to\nhuman dignity, and socially more dangerous, than the vices of the flesh.\nAnd the reign of such men as Caligula, Nero, and Domitian not only\nstimulated the grossness of self-indulgence, but superadded the treachery\nand servility of cowardice. In order to appreciate fully what the world\nhad gained by the mild and temperate rule of the princes of the second\ncentury, it is necessary to revive for a moment the terrors of the\nClaudian Caesars.\n\nThe power of Seneca as a moral teacher has, with some reservations, been\nrecognised by all the ages since his time. But equal recognition has\nhardly been given to the lurid light which he throws, in random flashes,\non the moral conditions of his class under the tyranny of Caligula and\nNero. This may be due, perhaps, to a distrust of his artificial\ndeclamation, and that falsetto note which he too often strikes even in his\nmost serious moments. Yet he must be an unsympathetic reader who does not\nperceive that, behind the moral teaching of Seneca, there lies an awful\nexperience, a lifelong torture, which turns all the fair-seeming blessings\nof life, state and luxury and lofty rank, into dust and ashes. There is a\nhaunting shadow over Seneca which never draws away, which sometimes\ndeepens into a horror of darkness. In whatever else Seneca may have been\ninsincere, his veiled references to the terrors of the imperial despotism\ncome from the heart.\n\nSeneca\u2019s life almost coincides with the Julio-Claudian tyranny. He had\nwitnessed in his early manhood the gloomy, suspicious rule of Tiberius,\nwhen no day passed without an execution,(15) when every accusation was\ndeadly, when it might be fatal for a poet to assail Agamemnon in tragic\nverse, or for a historian to praise Brutus and Cassius,(16) when the\nvictims of delation in crowds anticipated the mockery of justice by\nself-inflicted death, or drank the poison even in the face of the judges.\nSeneca incurred the jealous hatred of Caligula by a too brilliant piece of\nrhetoric in the Senate,(17) and he has taken his revenge by damning the\nmonster to eternal infamy.(18) Not even in Suetonius is there any tale\nmore ghastly than that told by Seneca of the Roman knight whose son had\npaid with his life for a foppish elegance which irritated the tyrant.(19)\nOn the evening of the cruel day, the father received an imperial command\nto dine. With a face betraying no sign of emotion, he was compelled to\ndrink to the Emperor, while spies were eagerly watching every expression\nof his face. He bore the ordeal without flinching. \u201cDo you ask why? He had\nanother son.\u201d Exiled to Corsica in the reign of Claudius,(20) Seneca bore\nthe sentence with less dignity than he afterwards met death. He witnessed\nthe reign of the freedmen, the infamies of Messalina, the intrigues of\nAgrippina, and the treacherous murder of Britannicus; he knew all the\nsecrets of that ghastly court. Installed as the tutor of the young Nero,\nhe doubtless, if we may judge by the treatise on Clemency, strove to\ninspire him with a high ideal of monarchy as an earthly providence. He\nprobably at the same time discovered in the son of Cn. Domitius\nAhenobarbus and Agrippina the fatal heritage of a vicious blood and the\nomens of a ghastly reign. The young tiger was held on leash for the famous\nquinquennium by Burrus and Seneca. It seemed only the device of a divine\ntragic artist, by a brief space of calm and innocence, to deepen the\nhorror of the catastrophe. And, for Seneca, life darkened terribly towards\nits close. With high purposes for the commonweal, he had probably lent\nhimself to doubtful means of humouring his wayward pupil, perhaps even to\ncrime.(21) His enormous wealth, whether won from imperial favour, or\ngained by usury and extortion,(22) his power, his literary brilliance,\naroused a host of enemies, who blackened his character and excited the\nfears or the jealousy of Nero. He had to bear the unenviable distinction\nof a possible pretender to the principate.(23) He withdrew into almost\nmonastic seclusion, and even offered to resign his wealth.(24) He strove\nto escape the evil eyes of calumny and imperial distrust by the most\nabject renunciation. But he could not descend from the precipice on which\nhe hung; his elevation was a crucifixion.(25) Withdrawn to a remote corner\nof his palace, which was crowded with the most costly products of the\nEast, and surrounded by gardens which moved the envy of Nero,(26) the\nfallen statesman sought calm in penning his counsels to Lucilius, and\nbracing himself to meet the stealthy stroke which might be dealt at any\nmoment.(27) In reading many passages of Seneca, you feel that you are\nsitting in some palace on the Esquiline, reading the _Phaedo_ or listening\nto the consolations of a Stoic director, while the centurion from the\npalace may at any moment appear with the last fateful order.\n\nSeneca, like Tacitus, has a remarkable power of moral diagnosis. He had\nacquired a profound, sad knowledge of the pathology of the soul. It was a\npower which was almost of necessity acquired in that time of terror and\nsuspicion, when men lived in daily peril from seeming friends. There never\nwas a period when men more needed the art of reading the secrets of\ncharacter. Nor was there ever a time when there were greater facilities\nfor the study. Life was sociable almost to excess. The Roman noble, unless\nhe made himself deliberately a recluse, spent much of his time in those\nsocial meeting-places of which we hear so often,(28) where gossip and\ncriticism dealt mercilessly with character, where keen wits were pitted\nagainst one another, sometimes in a deadly game, and where it might be a\nmatter of life or death to pierce the armour of dissimulation.(29) Seneca\nhad long shone in such circles. In his later years, if he became a\nrecluse, he was also a spiritual director. And his Letters leave little\ndoubt that many a restless or weary spirit laid bare its secret misery to\nhim, for advice or consolation. Knowing well the wildest excesses of\nfantastic luxury, all the secrets of the philosophic confessional, the\nmiseries of a position oscillating between almost princely state and\nmonastic renunciation, the minister of Nero, with a self-imposed cure of\nsouls, had unrivalled opportunities of ascertaining the moral condition of\nhis class.\n\nSeneca is too often a rhetorician, in search of striking effects and vivid\nphrase. And, like all rhetoricians, he is often inconsistent. At times he\nappears to regard his own age as having reached the very climax of insane\nself-indulgence. And yet, in a calmer mood, he declares his belief that\nthe contemporaries of Nero were not worse than the contemporaries of\nClodius or Lucullus, that one age differs from another rather in the\ngreater prominence of different vices.(30) His pessimism extends to all\nages which have been allured by the charm of ingenious luxury from the\nsimplicity of nature. In the fatal progress of society, the artificial\nmultiplication of human wants has corrupted the idyllic innocence of the\nfar-off Eden, where the cope of heaven or the cave was the only shelter,\nand the skin-clad savage made his meal on berries and slaked his thirst\nfrom the stream.(31) It is the revolutionary dream of Rousseau, revolting\nfrom the oppression and artificial luxury of the _Ancien R\u00e9gime_. Seneca\u2019s\nstate of nature is the antithesis of the selfish and materialised society\nin which he lived. Our early ancestors were not indeed virtuous in the\nstrict sense.(32) For virtue is the result of struggle and philosophic\nguidance. But their instincts were good, because they were not tempted.\nThey enjoyed in common the natural bounties of mother earth.(33) Their\nfierceness of energy spent itself on the beasts of the chase. They lived\npeaceably in willing obedience to the gentle paternal rule of their wisest\nand best, with no lust of gold or power, no jealousy and hatred, to break\na contented and unenvious harmony. The great disturbers of this primeval\npeace were avarice and luxury.(34) The moment when the first nugget\nflashed its baleful temptations on the eyes of the roaming hunter was the\nbeginning of all human guilt and misery.(35) Selfish greed, developing\ninto insatiable appetite, is the original sin which turned the garden into\nwilderness. In individualist cravings men lost hold on the common wealth\nof nature. Luxury entered on its downward course, in the search for fresh\nfood and stimulus for appetite, till merely superfluous pleasures led on\nto those from which untainted nature recoils.(36) Man\u2019s boasted conquests\nover nature, the triumphs of his perverted ingenuity, have bred an\nillimitable lust, ending in wearied appetite; they have turned those who\nwere brothers into cunning or savage beasts.\n\nSuch a theory of society has, of course, no value or interest in itself.\nIts interest, like that of similar _\u00e0 priori_ dreams, lies in the light\nwhich it sheds on the social conditions which gave it birth. Like the\nGermany of Tacitus, and the Social Contract of Rousseau, Seneca\u2019s theory\nof the evolution of humanity is an oblique satire on the vices of his own\nage. And not even in Tacitus or Suetonius are to be found more ghastly\nrevelations of a putrescent society, and the ennui and self-loathing which\ncapricious sensualism generates in spirits born for something higher. It\nmay be worth noting that the vices which Seneca treats as most prevalent\nand deadly are not so much those of sexual impurity, although they were\nrife enough in his day, as those of greed, gross luxury, treacherous and\nenvious cruelty, the weariness of jaded nerves and exhausted capacities of\nindulgence.(37) It is not the coarse vices of the Suburra, but the more\ndeadly and lingering maladies of the Quirinal and the Esquiline which he\nis describing. There is a universal lust of gold:(38) riches are the one\nornament and stay of life. And yet in those days a great fortune was only\na splendid servitude.(39) It had to be guarded amid perpetual peril and\nenvy. The universal greed and venality are worthily matched by the endless\nanxiety of those who have won the prize. Human life has become a scene of\ncruel and selfish egotism, a ferocious struggle of beasts of prey, eager\nfor rapine, and heedless of those who go down in the obscene struggle.(40)\nIt is an age when men glorify the fortunate and trample on the fallen. The\ncunning and cruelty of the wild beast on the throne have taught a lesson\nof dissimulation to the subject. At such a court it is a miracle to reach\nold age, and the feat can only be accomplished by accepting insult and\ninjury with a smiling face.(41) For him who goes undefended by such armour\nof hypocrisy there is always ready the rack, the poisoned cup, the order\nfor self-murder. It is characteristic of the detachment of Seneca that he\nsees the origin of this hateful tyranny. No modern has more clearly\ndiscerned the far-reaching curse of slavery.(42) Every great house is a\nminiature of the Empire under a Caligula or Nero, a nursery of pretenders\ncapable of the same enormities. The unchecked power of the master, which\ncould, for the slightest faults, an ill-swept pavement, an unpolished\ndish, or a sullen look, inflict the most brutal torture,(43) produced\nthose cold hearts which gloated over the agony of gallant men in the\narena, and applauded in the Senate the tyrant\u2019s latest deed of blood. And\nthe system of household slavery enervated character while it made it\nheartless and cruel. The Inscriptions confirm Seneca\u2019s picture of the\nminute division of functions among the household, to anticipate every\npossible need or caprice of the master.(44) Under such a system the master\nbecame a helpless dependent. There is real truth, under some ludicrous\nexaggeration, in the tale of a Roman noble, taking his seat in his sedan\nafter the bath, and requiring the assurance of his slave that he was\nreally seated.(45)\n\nIt is little wonder that on such lives an utter weariness should settle,\nthe disgust of oversated appetite, which even the most far-fetched\nluxuries of the orient, the most devilish ingenuity of morbid vice, could\nhardly arouse. Yet these jaded souls are tortured by an aimless\nrestlessness, which frets and chafes at the slow passing of the hours,(46)\nor vainly hopes to find relief in change of scene.(47) The more energetic\nspirits, with no wholesome field for energy, developed into a class which\nobtained the name of \u201cArdeliones.\u201d Seneca,(48) Martial,(49) and the\nyounger Pliny(50) have left us pictures of these idle busybodies, hurrying\nround the forums, theatres, and great houses, in an idle quest of some\ntrivial object of interest, waiting on patrons who ignore their existence,\nfollowing some stranger to the grave, rushing pell-mell to the wedding of\na much-married lady, or to a scene in the law courts, returning at\nnightfall, worn out with these silly labours, to tread the same weary\nround next day. Less innocent were they who daily gathered in the\n_circuli_,(51) to hear and spread the wildest rumours about the army on\nthe frontier, to kill a woman\u2019s reputation with a hint, to find a sinister\nmeaning in some imperial order, or to gloat in whispers over the last\nhighly-coloured tale of folly or dark guilt from the palace. It was a\nperilous enjoyment, for, with a smiling face, some seeming friend was\nprobably noting every hint which might be tortured into an accusation\nbefore the secret tribunal on the Palatine, or angling for a sneer which\nmight cost its author a fortune, or send him to the rocks of Gyarus.\n\nIn reading Seneca\u2019s writings, especially those of his last years, you are\nconscious of a horror which hardly ever takes definite shape, a thick\nstifling air, as it were, charged with lightning. Again and again, you\nfeel a dim terror closing in silently and stealthily, with sudden glimpses\nof unutterable torture, of cord and rack and flaming tunic.(52) You seem\nto see the sage tossing on his couch of purple under richly panelled\nceilings of gold, starting at every sound in the wainscot,(53) as he\nawaits the messenger of death. It is not so much that Seneca fears death\nitself, although we may suspect that his nerves sometimes gave the lie to\nhis principles. He often hails death as welcome at any age, as the\ndeliverer who strikes off the chain and opens the prison door, the one\nharbour on a tempestuous and treacherous sea.(54) He is grateful for\nhaving always open this escape from life\u2019s long torture, and boldly claims\nthe right to anticipate the executioner. The gloom of Seneca seems rather\nto spring from a sense of the terrible contrast between wealth and state\nand an ignominious doom which was ever ready to fall. And to his fevered\neye all stately rank seems at last but a precipice overhanging the abyss,\na mark for treacherous envy or the spitefulness of Fortune.(55) \u201cA great\nfortune is a great servitude,\u201d(56) which, if it has been hard to win, is\nharder still to guard. And all life is full of these pathetic contrasts.\nPleasure is nearest neighbour to pain; the summer sea in a moment is\nboiling in the tempest; the labour of long years is scattered in a day;\nthere is always terror lurking under our deepest peace. And so we reach\nthe sad gospel of a universal pessimism; \u201cnothing is so deceitful and\ntreacherous as the life of man.\u201d(57) No one would knowingly accept such a\nfatal gift, of which the best that can be said is that the torture is\nshort, that our first moment of existence is the first stage to the\ngrave.(58) Thus to Seneca, with all his theoretical indifference to things\nexternal to the virtuous will, with all his admiration for the\ninvulnerable wisdom, withdrawn in the inner citadel of the soul, and\ndefying the worst that tyrants or fortune could inflict, the _taedium\nvitae_ became almost unendurable. The interest of all this lies, not in\nSeneca\u2019s inconsistency, but in the nightmare which brooded on such minds\nin the reign of Nero.\n\nSomething of the gloom of Seneca was part of the evil heritage of a class,\ncommanding inexhaustible wealth and assailed by boundless temptations to\nself-indulgence, which had been offered by the conquest of East and West.\nThe weary senses failed to respond to the infinite sensual seductions\nwhich surrounded the Roman noble from his earliest years. If he did not\nsucceed in squandering his fortune, he often exhausted too early his\ncapacity for healthy joy in life, and the nemesis of sated appetite and\ndisillusionment too surely cast its shadow over his later years. Prurient\nslander was rife in those days, and we are not bound to accept all its\ntales about Seneca. Yet there are passages in his writings which leave the\nimpression that, although he may have cultivated a Pythagorean asceticism\nin his youth,(59) he did not altogether escape the taint of his time.(60)\nHis enormous fortune did not all come by happy chance or the bounty of the\nemperor.(61) His gardens and palace, with all its priceless furniture,\nmust have been acquired because at one time he felt pleasure in such\nluxuries. A soul so passionate in its renunciation may, according to laws\nof human nature, have been once as passionate in indulgence. In his case,\nas so often in the history of the Church, the saint may have had a\nterrible repentance.\n\nIt is probable, however, that this pessimism is more the result of the\ncontrast between Seneca\u2019s ideal of the principate, and the degradation of\nits power in the hands of his pupil Nero. Seneca may have been regarded\nonce as a possible candidate for the throne, but he was no conspirator or\nrevolutionary.(62) He would have condemned the visionaries whose rudeness\nprovoked even the tolerant Vespasian.(63) In a letter, which must have\nbeen written during the Neronian terror, he emphatically repudiates the\nidea that the votaries of philosophy are refractory subjects. Their great\nneed is quiet and security. They should surely reverence him who, by his\nsleepless watch, guards what they most value, just as, on a merchantman,\nthe owner of the most precious part of the cargo will be most grateful for\nthe protection of the god of the sea.(64) Seneca would have his\nphilosophic brethren give no offence by loud self-assertion or a parade of\nsuperior wisdom.(65) In that deceitful dawn of his pupil\u2019s reign, Seneca\nhad written a treatise in which he had striven to charm him by the ideal\nof a paternal monarchy, in the consciousness of its god-like power ever\ndelighting in mercy and pity, tender to the afflicted, gentle even to the\ncriminal. It is very much the ideal of Pliny and Dion Chrysostom under the\nstrong and temperate rule of Trajan.(66) Addressed to one of the worst\nemperors, it seems, to one looking back, almost a satire. Yet we should\nremember that, strange as it may seem, Nero, with all his wild depravity,\nappears to have had a strange charm for many, even to the end. The men who\ntrembled under the sombre and hypocritical Domitian, regretted the wild\ngaiety and bonhomie of Nero, and each spring, for years after his death,\nflowers were laid by unknown hands upon his grave.(67) The charm of\nboyhood, with glimpses of some generous instincts, may for a time have\ndeceived even the experienced man of the world and the brooding analyst of\ncharacter. But it is more probable that the piece is rather a warning than\na prophecy. Seneca had watched all the caprices of an imperial tyrant,\ndrunk with a sense of omnipotence, having in his veins the maddening taint\nof ancestral vice,(68) with nerves unstrung by maniacal excesses, brooding\nin the vast solitudes of the Palatine till he became frenzied with terror,\nstriking down possible rivals, at first from fear or greed,(69) in the end\nfrom the wild beast\u2019s lust for blood, and the voluptuary\u2019s delight in\nsuffering. The prophecy of the father as to the future of Agrippina\u2019s\nson(70) found probably an echo in the fears of his tutor. But, in spite of\nhis forebodings, Seneca thought the attempt to save him worth making. He\nfirst appeals to his imagination. Nero has succeeded to a vicegerency of\nGod on earth.(71) He is the arbiter of life and death, on whose word the\nfortunes of citizens, the happiness or misery of whole peoples depend.\nHis innocence raises the highest hopes.(72) But the imperial task is\nheavy, and its perils are appalling. The emperor is the one bond by which\nthe world-empire is held together;(73) he is its vital breath. Man, the\nhardest of all animals to govern,(74) can only be governed long by love,\nand love can only be won by beneficence and gentleness to the frowardness\nof men. In his god-like place, the prince should imitate the mercy of the\ngods.(75) Wielding illimitable power, he is yet the servant of all, and\ncannot usurp the licence of the private subject. He is like one of the\nheavenly orbs, bound by inevitable law to move onward in a fixed orbit,\nunswerving and unresting. If he relies on cruel force, rather than on\nclemency, he will sink to the level of the tyrant and meet his proper\nfate.(76) Cruelty in a king only multiplies his enemies and envenoms\nhatred. In that fatal path there is no turning back. The king, once\ndreaded by his people, loses his nerve and strikes out blindly in\nself-defence.(77) The atmosphere of treachery and suspicion thickens\naround him, and, in the end, what, to his maddened mind, seemed at first a\nstern necessity becomes a mere lust for blood.\n\nIt has been suggested that Seneca was really, to some extent, the cause of\nthe grotesque or tragic failure of Nero.(78) The rhetorical spirit, which\nbreathes through all Seneca\u2019s writings, may certainly be an evil influence\nin the education of a ruler of men. The habit of playing with words, of\naiming at momentary effect, with slight regard to truth, may inspire the\nexcitable vanity of the artist, but is hardly the temper for dealing with\nthe hard problems of government. And the dazzling picture of the boundless\npower of a Roman emperor, which Seneca put before his pupil, in order to\nheighten his sense of responsibility, might intoxicate a mind naturally\nprone to grandiose visions, while the sober lesson would be easily\nforgotten. The spectacle of \u201cthe kingdoms of the world and all the glory\nof them\u201d at his feet was a dangerous temptation to a temperament like\nNero\u2019s.(79) Arrogance and cruelty were in the blood of the Domitii. Nero\u2019s\ngrandfather, when only aedile, had compelled the censor to give place to\nhim; he had produced Roman matrons in pantomime, and given gladiatorial\nshows with such profusion of cruelty, as to shock that not very\ntender-hearted age.(80) The father of the emperor, in addition to crimes\nof fraud, perjury, and incest, had, in the open forum, torn out the eye of\na Roman knight, and deliberately trampled a child under his horse\u2019s feet\non the Appian Way.(81) Yet such is the strange complexity of human nature,\nthat Nero seems by nature not to have been destitute of some generous and\namiable qualities. We need not lay too much stress on the innocence\nascribed to him by Seneca.(82) Nor need we attribute to Nero\u2019s initiative\nthe sound or benevolent measures which characterised the beginning of his\nreign. But he showed at one time some industry and care in performing his\njudicial work.(83) He saw the necessity, in the interests of public health\nand safety, of remodelling the narrow streets and mean insanitary\ndwellings of Rome.(84) His conception of the Isthmian canal, if the\nengineering problem could have been conquered, would have been an immense\nboon to traders with the Aegean. Even his quinquennial festival, inspired\nby the Greek contests in music and gymnastic,(85) represented a finer\nideal of such gatherings, which was much needed by a race devoted to the\ncoarse realism of pantomime and the butchery of the arena. Fierce and\nincalculably capricious as he could be, Nero, at his best, had also a\nsofter side. He had a craving for love and appreciation(86); some of his\ncruelty was probably the revenge for the denial of it. He was singularly\npatient of lampoons and invective against himself.(87) Although he could\nbe brutal in his treatment of women, he also knew how to inspire real\naffection, and perhaps in a few cases return it. He seems to have had\nsomething of real love for Acte, his mistress. His old nurses consoled him\nin his last hour of agony, and, along with the faithful Acte, laid the\nlast of his race in the vault of the Domitii.(88) Nero must have had\nsomething of that charm which leads women in every age to forget faults,\nand even crimes in the men whom they have once loved. And the strange,\nlingering superstition, which disturbed the early Church, and which looked\nfor his reappearance down to the eleventh century, could hardly have\ngathered around an utterly mean and mediocre character.(89)\n\nWhen Nero uttered the words \u201cQualis artifex pereo,\u201d(90) he gave not only\nhis own interpretation of his life, he also revealed one great secret of\nits ghastly failure. It may be admitted that Nero had a certain artistic\nenthusiasm, a real ambition to excel.(91) He painted with some skill, he\ncomposed verses not without a certain grace. In spite of serious natural\ndefects, he took endless pains to acquire the technique of a singer. Far\ninto the night he would sit in rapt enthusiasm listening to the effects of\nTerpnus, and trying to copy them.(92) His artistic tour in Greece, which\nlowered him so much in the eyes of the West, was really inspired by the\npassion to find a sympathetic audience which he could not find at Rome.\nAnd, in spite of his arrogance and vanity, he had a wholesome deference\nfor the artistic judgment of Greece. Yet it is very striking that in the\nrecords of his reign, the most damning accusation is that he disgraced the\npurple by exhibitions on the stage. His songs to the lyre, his\nimpersonation of the parturient Canace or the mad Hercules, did as much to\ncause his overthrow as his murders of Britannicus and Agrippina.(93) The\nstout Roman soldier and the Pythagorean apostle have the same scorn for\nthe imperial charioteer and actor. A false literary ambition, born of a\nfalse system of education, was the bane of Roman culture for many ages.\nThe dilettante artist on the throne in the first century had many a\nsuccessor in the literary arts among the grand seigneurs of the fifth.\nThey could play with their ingenious tricks of verse in sight of the\nGothic camp-fires. He could contend for the wreath at Olympia when his\nfaithful freedman was summoning him back by the news that the West was\nseething with revolt.(94)\n\nNero\u2019s mother had dissuaded him from the study of philosophy; his tutor\ndebarred him from the study of the manly oratory of the great days.(95)\nThe world was now to learn the meaning of a false artistic ambition,\ndivorced from a sense of reality and duty. Aestheticism may be only a love\nof sensational effects, with no glimpse of the ideal. It may be a\nhypocritical materialism, screening itself under divine names. In this\ntaste Nero was the true representative of his age. It was deeply tainted\nwith that mere passion for the grandiose and startling, and for feverish\nintellectual effects, which a true culture spurns as a desecration of\nart.(96) Mere magnitude and portentousness, the realistic expression of\nphysical agony, the coarse flush of a half-sensual pleasure, captivated a\nvulgar taste, to which crapulous excitement and a fever of the senses took\nthe place of the purer ardours and visions of the spirit.(97) Nero paid\nthe penalty of outraging the conventional prejudices of the Roman. And yet\nhe was in some respects in thorough sympathy with the masses. His lavish\ngames and spectacles atoned to some extent for his aberrations of\nHellenism. He was generous and wasteful, and he encouraged waste in\nothers,(98) and waste is always popular till the bill has to be paid. He\nwas a \u201ccupitor incredibilium.\u201d(99) The province of Africa was ransacked to\nfind the fabled treasure of Dido.(100) Explorers were sent to pierce the\nmysterious barrier of the Caucasus, and discover the secret sources of the\nNile. He had great engineering schemes which might seem baffling even to\nmodern skill, and which almost rivalled the wildest dreams of the lunatic\nbrain of Caligula.(101) His Golden House, in a park stretching from the\nPalatine to the heights of the Esquiline, was on a scale of more than\noriental magnificence. At last the master of the world was properly\nlodged. With colonnades three miles long, with its lakes and pastures and\nsylvan glades, it needed only a second Nero in Otho to dream of adding to\nits splendour.(102) To such a prince the astrologers might well predict\nanother monarchy enthroned on Mount Zion, with the dominion of the\nEast.(103) The materialist dreamer was, like Napoleon I., without a\nrudimentary moral sense. Stained with the foulest enormities himself, he\nhad a rooted conviction that virtue was a pretence, and that all men were\nequally depraved.(104) His surroundings gave him some excuse for thinking\nso. He was born into a circle which believed chiefly in \u201cthe lust of the\neye and the pride of life.\u201d He formed a circle many of whom perished in\nthe carnage of Bedriacum. With a treasury drained by insane profusion,\nNero resorted to rapine and judicial murder to replenish it.(105) The\nspendthrift seldom has scruples in repairing his extravagance. The temples\nwere naturally plundered by the man who, having no religion, was at least\nhonest enough to deride all religions.(106) The artistic treasures of\nGreece were carried off by the votary of Greek art; the gold and silver\nimages of her shrines were sent to the melting-pot.(107) Ungrateful\ntestators paid their due penalty after death; and delation, watching every\nword or gesture, skilfully supplied the needed tale of victims for\nplunder. It is all a hackneyed story. Yet it is perhaps necessary to\nrevive it once more to explain the suppressed terror and lingering agony\nof the last days of Seneca.\n\nThe impressions of the Terror which we receive from Seneca are powerful\nand almost oppressive. A thick atmosphere of gloom and foreboding seems to\nstifle us as we turn his pages. But Seneca deals rather in shadowy hint\nand veiled suggestion than in definite statement. For the minute picture\nof that awful scene of degradation we must turn to Tacitus. He wrote in\nthe fresh dawn of an age of fancied freedom, when the gloom of the tyranny\nseemed to have suddenly vanished like an evil dream. Yet he cannot shake\noff the sense of horror and disgust which fifteen years of ignoble\ncompliance or silent suffering have burnt into his soul. Even under the\nmanly, tolerant rule of Trajan, he hardly seems to have regained his\nbreath.(108) He can scarcely believe that the light has come at last. His\nattitude to the tyranny is essentially different from that of Seneca. The\nson of the provincial from Cordova views the scene rather as the\ncosmopolitan moralist, imperilled by his huge fortune and the\nneighbourhood of the terrible palace. Tacitus looks at it as the Roman\nSenator, steeped in all old Roman tradition, caring little for philosophy,\nbut caring intensely for old Roman dignity and the prestige of that great\norder, which he had seen humbled and decimated.(109) The feeling of Seneca\nis that of a Stoic monk, isolated in a corner of his vast palace, now\ntrembling before the imperial jealousy, which his wealth and celebrity may\ndraw down upon him, and again seeking consolation in thoughts of God and\neternity which might often seem to belong to Thomas \u00e0 Kempis. The tone of\nTacitus is sometimes that of a man who should have lived in the age of the\nSamnite or the Carthaginian wars, before luxury and factious ambition had\nsapped the moral strength of the great aristocratic caste, while his\nfeelings are divided between grim anger at a cruel destiny, and scornful\nregret for the weakness and the self-abandonment of a class which had been\nonce so great. The feelings of Seneca express themselves rather in\nrhetorical self-pity. The feelings of Tacitus find vent in words which\nsometimes veil a pathos too proud for effusive utterance, sometimes cut\nlike lancet points, and which, in their concentrated moral scorn, have\nleft an eternal brand of infamy on names of historic renown.\n\nMore than forty years had passed between the date of Seneca\u2019s last letters\nto Lucilius and the entry of Tacitus on his career as a historian.(110) He\nwas a child when Seneca died.(111) His life is known to us only from a few\nstray glimpses in the Letters of Pliny,(112) eked out by the inferences of\nmodern erudition. As a young boy, he must have often heard the tales of\nthe artistic follies and the orgies of Nero, and the ghastly cruelties of\nthe end of his reign. As a lad of fifteen, he may have witnessed something\nof the carnival of blood and lust which appropriately closed the r\u00e9gime of\nthe Julio-Claudian line. He entered on his _cursus honorum_ in the reign\nof Vespasian, and attained the praetorship under Domitian.(113) A military\ncommand probably withdrew him from Rome for three years during the tyranny\nof the last Flavian.(114) He was consul suffectus in 97, and then held the\nproconsulship of Asia. It cannot be doubted from his own words that, as a\nsenator, he had to witness tamely the Curia beset with soldiery, the\nnoblest women driven into exile, and men of the highest rank and virtue\ncondemned to death on venal testimony in the secret tribunal of the Alban\nPalace. His hand helped to drag Helvidius to the dungeon, and was stained\nwith the blood of Senecio. He lived long enough under a better prince to\nleave an unfading picture of the tragedy of solitary and remorseless\npower, but not long enough to forget the horrors and degradation through\nwhich he had passed.\n\nThe claim of Tacitus to have been uninfluenced by passion or\npartiality(115) has been disputed by a modern school of critics.(116)\nSometimes, from a love of Caesarism and strong government, sometimes from\nthe scholarly weakness for finding a new interpretation of history, the\ngreat historic painter of the Julio-Claudian despotism has been\nrepresented as an acrid rhetorician of the Senatorial reaction, a dreamer\nwho looks back wistfully to the old Republic, belonging to one of those\nhaughty circles of the old r\u00e9gime which were always in chronic revolt,\nwhich lived in an atmosphere of suspicion and poisonous gossip, and\nnourished its dreams and hatreds till fiction and fact melted into one\nanother in gloomy retrospect.(117) He is the great literary avenger of the\nSenate after its long sanguinary conflict with the principate, using the\nfreedom of the new order to blacken the character of princes who had been\nforced, in the interests of the world-wide empire, to fight and to crush a\nselfish and narrow-minded caste.(118)\n\nThe weakness of all such estimates of Tacitus lies in their failure to\nrecognise the complex nature of the man, the mingled and crossing\ninfluences of training, official experience, social environment, and lofty\nmoral ideals(119); it lies even more in a misconception of his aims as a\nhistorian. Tacitus was a great orator, and the spirit of the rhetorical\nschool, combined with the force and dexterity of style which it could\ncommunicate, left the greatest Roman historians with a less rigorous sense\nof truth than their weakest modern successors often possess.(120) No Roman\never rose to the Thucydidean conception of history. Moreover Tacitus,\nalthough originally not of the highest social rank,(121) belonged to the\naristocratic class by sympathy and associations. Like Suetonius, he\nnecessarily drew much of his information from the memories of great houses\nand the tales of the elders who had lived through the evil days.(122) He\nacquired thus many of the prejudices of a class which, from its history,\nand still more from its education, sought its ideals in the past rather\nthan in the future. He mingled in those circles, which in every age\ndisguise the meanness and bitterness of gossip by the airy artistic touch\nof audacious wit, polished in many social encounters. He had himself\nwitnessed the triumph of delation and the cold cruelty of Domitian. He had\nshared in the humiliation of the Senate which had been cowed into\nacquiescence in his worst excesses. And the spectacle had inspired him\nwith a horror of unchecked power in the hands of a bad man, and a gloomy\ndistrust of that human nature which could sink to such ignoble\nservility.(123) Yet on the other hand Tacitus had gained practical\nexperience in high office, both as soldier and administrator, which has\nalways a sobering effect on the judgment. He realised the difficulties of\ngovernment and the unreasonableness of ordinary men. Hence he has no\nsympathy with a doctrinaire and chimerical opposition even under the worst\ngovernment.(124) However much he might respect the high character of the\nphilosophic enthusiasts of the day, he distrusted their theatrical\ndefiance of power, and he threw his shield over a discreet reserve, which\ncould forget that it was serving a tyrant in serving the\ncommonwealth.(125) Tacitus may at times express himself with a stern\nmelancholy bitterness, which might at first seem to mark him as a\nrevolutionary dreamer, avenging an outraged political ideal. Such an\ninterpretation would be a grave mistake, which he would himself have been\nthe first to correct. The ideal which he is avenging is not a political,\nbut a moral ideal.(126) The bitter sadness is that of the profound analyst\nof character, with a temperament of almost feverish intensity and nervous\nforce. The interest of history to Thucydides and Polybius lies in the\npolitical lessons which it may teach posterity. Its interest to Tacitus\nlies in the discovery of hidden motives and the secret of character, in\nwatching the stages of an inevitable degeneracy, the moral preparation for\na dark, inglorious end. And the analyst was a curiously vivid painter of\ncharacter, the character of individuals, of periods, and of peoples. His\nportraits burn themselves into the imaginative memory, so that the\nimpression, once seized, can never be lost. Tiberius and Claudius and\nNero, Messalina and Agrippina, in spite of the most mordant criticism,\nwill live for ever as they have been portrayed by the fervid imagination\nof Tacitus. Nor is he less searching and vivid in depicting the collective\nfeeling and character of masses of men. We watch the alternating fury and\nrepentance of the mutinous legions of Germanicus,(127) or the mingled\nfierceness and sorrow with which they wandered among the bleaching bones\non the lost battlefield of Varus,(128) or the passion of grief and\nadmiration with which the praetorian cohorts kissed the self-inflicted\nwounds of Otho.(129) Or, again, we follow the changing moods of the Roman\npopulace, passing from anger and grief to short-lived joy, and then to\ndeep silent sorrow, at the varying rumours from the East about the health\nof Germanicus.(130) In Tacitus events are nearly always seen in their\nmoral setting. The misery and shame of the burning of the Capitol by the\nVitellians are heightened by the thought that the catastrophe is caused by\nthe madness of civil strife.(131) In the awful conflict which raged from\nstreet to street, the horror consists in the mixture of cruelty and\nlicence. The baths and brothels and taverns are crowded at the very hour\nwhen the neighbouring ways are piled with corpses and running with blood;\nthe rush of indulgence paused not for a moment; men seemed to revel in the\npublic disasters. There was bloodshed enough in the days of Cinna and\nSulla, but the world was at least spared such a carnival of lust.(132)\nEven in reporting or imagining the speech of Galgacus to his warriors on\nthe Grampians,(133) even in the pictures of the German tribes,(134) the\nethical interest is always foremost. The cruel terror of the prince, the\neffeminacy and abandoned adulation of the nobles, the grossness and\nfierceness of the masses, contrasted with the loyalty, chastity, and\nhardihood of the German clans, seem to have dimly foreshadowed to Tacitus\na danger from which all true Romans averted their eyes till the end.(135)\n\nThe key to the interpretation of Tacitus is to regard him as a moralist\nrather than a politician. And he is a moralist with a sad, clinging\npessimism.(136) He is doomed to be the chronicler of an evil time,\nalthough he will save from oblivion the traces and relics of ancient\nvirtue.(137) He has Seneca\u2019s pessimist theory of evolution. The early\nequality and peace and temperance have been lost through a steady growth\nof greed and egotistic ambition.(138) It is in the past we must seek our\nideals; it is from the past we derive our strength. With the same gloomy\nview of his contemporaries as M. Aurelius had,(139) he holds vaguely a\nsimilar view of cycles in human affairs.(140) And probably the fairest\nhope which ever visited the mind of Tacitus was that of a return to the\nsimplicity of a long gone age. He hailed the accession of Vespasian and of\nTrajan as a happy change to purer manners and to freedom of speech.(141)\nBut the reign of Vespasian had been followed by the gloomy suspicious\ndespotism of Domitian. Who could be sure about the successors of Trajan?\nTacitus hardly shared the enthusiasm and exuberant hopes expressed by his\nfriend Pliny in his _Panegyric_. It was a natural outbreak of joy at\nescaping from the dungeon, and the personal character of Trajan succeeded\nin partially veiling the overwhelming force of the emperor under the\nfigment of the freely accepted rule of the first citizen. Tacitus no doubt\nfelt as great satisfaction as his friend at the suppression of the\ninformers, the restored freedom of speech, the recovered dignity of the\nSenate, the prince\u2019s respect for old republican forms and etiquette.(142)\nHe felt probably even keener pleasure that virtue and talent had no longer\nto hide themselves from a jealous eye, and that the whole tone of society\nwas being raised by the temperate example of the emperor. But he did not\nshare Pliny\u2019s illusions as to the prince\u2019s altered position under the new\nr\u00e9gime. The old Republic was gone for ever.(143) It was still the rule of\none man, on whose character everything depended. He would never have\njoined Plutarch and Dion in exalting the emperor to the rank of vicegerent\nof God. With his experience and psychologic skill, he was bound to regard\nall solitary power as a terrible danger both to its holder and his\nsubjects.(144) \u201cCapax imperii, nisi imperasset\u201d condenses a whole\ndisquisition on imperialism. In truth, Tacitus, like many thoughtful\nstudents of politics, had little faith in mere political forms and\nnames.(145) They are often the merest imposture: they depend greatly on\nthe spirit and social tone which lie behind them. In the abstract,\nperhaps, Tacitus would have given a preference to aristocracy. But he saw\nhow easily it might pass into a selfish despotism.(146) He had no faith in\nthe people or in popular government, with its unstable excitability. He\nadmitted that the conquests of Rome, egotistic ambition, and the long\nanarchy of the Civil Wars had made the rule of one inevitable. But\nmonarchy easily glides into tyranny, and he accepts the Empire only as a\nperilous necessity which may be justified by the advent of a good prince.\nThe hereditary succession, which had been grafted on the principate of\nAugustus, had inflicted on the world a succession of fools or monsters.\nThe only hope lay in elevating the standard of virtue, and in the choice\nof a worthy successor by the forms of adoption.(147) The one had in his\nown time given the world a Domitian, and was destined within three\ngenerations to give it a Commodus. The other secured to it the peace and\norder of the age of which Tacitus saw the dawn.(148)\n\nThe motive of Tacitus was essentially ethical, and his moral standard was\nin many respects lofty. Yet his standard was sometimes limited by the\nprejudices of his class. He cherished the old Roman ideal of \u201cvirtus\u201d\nrather than the Stoic gospel of a cosmopolitan brotherhood of man.(149)\nLike Pliny, he felt little horror at gladiatorial combats,(150) although\nhe may have had a certain contempt for the rage for them. He had probably\nfar less humane feelings than Pliny on the subject of slavery.(151) While\nhe admired many of the rude virtues of the Germans, he prayed Heaven that\ntheir tribal blood-feuds might last for ever.(152) He has all the faith of\nTheognis in the moral value of blood and breeding. He feels a proud\nsatisfaction in recording the virtues of the scion of a noble race, and\ndegeneracy from great traditions moves his indignant pity.(153) He\nsometimes throws a veil over the degenerates.(154) The great economic\nrevolution which was raising the freedman, the petty trader, the obscure\nprovincial, to the top, he probably regarded with something of Juvenal\u2019s\nsuspicion and dislike. The new man would have needed a fine character, or\na great record of service, to commend him to Tacitus.(155) But, with all\nthese defects of hard and narrow prejudice, Tacitus maintains a lofty\nideal of character, a severe enthusiasm for the great virtues which are\nthe salt of every society.\n\nOf the early nurture of Tacitus nothing is directly known. But we may be\npermitted to imagine him tenderly yet strictly guarded from the taint of\nslave nurses(156) by a mother who was as unspotted as Julia Procilla, the\nmother of his hero Agricola.(157) What importance he attached to this\njealous care of a good woman, what a horror he had of the incitements to\ncruelty and lust which surrounded the young Roman from his cradle, are to\nbe traced in many a passage coming from the heart. His ideal of youthful\nchastity and of the pure harmony of a single wedded union, reveals to us\nanother world from the scene of heartless, vagrant intrigue, on which Ovid\nwasted his brilliant gifts. His taste, if not his principles, revolted\nagainst the coarse seductions of the spectacles and the wasteful grossness\nof the banquets of his time.(158) He envies the Germans their freedom from\nthese great corrupters of Roman character, from the lust for gold, and the\ncalculating sterility which cut itself from nature\u2019s purest pleasure, to\nbe surrounded on the deathbed by a crowd of hungry, shameless sycophants.\nWhile Tacitus had a burning contempt for the nerveless cowardice and\nsluggishness which degraded so many of his order,(159) he may have valued\neven to excess, although it is hardly possible to do so, the virtues of\nthe strenuous soldier. Proud submission to authority, proud, cold\nendurance in the face of cruel hardship and enormous odds, readiness to\nsacrifice even life at the call of the State, must always tower over the\nsafe aspirations of an untried virtue. The soldier, though he never knows\nit, is the noblest of idealists. The ideal of Tacitus, although he sees\nhis faults of temper,(160) was probably the character of his\nfather-in-law, Agricola, grave, earnest and severe, yet with a mingled\nclemency, free from all vulgar avarice or ostentation of rank, from all\npoisonous jealousy, an eager ambitious warrior, yet one knowing well how\nto temper audacious energy with prudence.(161) Tacitus would probably have\nsought his ideal among those grey war-worn soldiers on a dangerous\nfrontier, half warrior and half statesman, just and clement, stern in\ndiscipline, yet possessing the secret of the Roman soldier\u2019s love, the men\nwho were guarding the Solway, the Rhine, and the Danube, while their\nbrethren in the Senate were purchasing their lives or their ease by\nadulation and treachery. Yet, after all, Tacitus was too great for such a\nlimited ideal. He could admire faith and courage and constancy in any\nrank.(162) With profound admiration and subdued pathos, he tells how the\nfreedwoman Epicharis, racked and fainting in every limb with the extremity\nof torture, refused to tell the secret of the Pisonian conspiracy, and by\na voluntary death shamed the knights and nobles who were ready to betray\ntheir nearest kin.(163) The slave girls of the empress, who defiantly\nupheld her fair fame, under the last cruel ordeal, are honoured by a like\nmemorial.(164)\n\nThe deepest feeling of Tacitus about the early Empire seems to have been\nthat it was fatal to character both in prince and subject. This conviction\nhe has expressed with the burning intensity of the artist. He could never\nhave penned one of those laborious paragraphs of Suetonius which seem\ntranscribed from a carefully kept note-book, with a lifeless catalogue of\nthe vices, the virtues, and the eccentricities of the subject. For\nTacitus, history is a living and real thing, not a matter of mere\nantiquarian interest. He has seen a single lawless will, unchecked by\nconstitutional restraints or ordinary human feeling, making sport of the\nlives and fortunes of men. He has seen the sons of the proudest houses\nselling their ancestral honour for their lives, betraying their nearest\nand dearest, and kissing the hand which was reeking with innocent\nblood.(165) When he looked back, he saw that, for more than fifteen years,\nwith brief intervals, virtue had been exiled or compelled to hide itself\nin impotent seclusion, and that power and wealth had been the reward of\nperfidy and grovelling self-abasement.(166) The brooding silence of those\nyears of humiliating servitude did not extinguish the faith of Tacitus in\nhuman virtue, but it almost extinguished his faith in a righteous God.\nTacitus is no philosopher, with either a reasoned th\u00e9odic\u00e9e or a\nconsistent repudiation of faith.(167) He uses popular language about\nreligion, and often speaks like an old Roman in all things touching the\ngods.(168) He is, moreover, often as credulous as he is sceptical in his\ntreatment of omens and oracles.(169) But, with all his intense faith in\ngoodness, the spectacle of the world of the Caesars has profoundly shaken\nhis trust in the Divine justice. Again and again, he attributes the long\nagony of the Roman world to mere chance or fate,(170) or the anger of\nHeaven, as well as to the madness of men.(171) Sometimes he almost denies\na ruling power which could permit the continuance of the crimes of a\nNero.(172) Sometimes he grimly notes its impartial treatment of the good\nand the evil.(173) And again, he speaks of the Powers who visit not to\nprotect, but only to avenge. And so, by a curse like that which haunted\nthe Pelopidae in tragic legend, the monarchy, cradled in ambition and\ncivil strife, has gone on corrupting and corrupted. The lust of despotic\npower which Tacitus regards as the fiercest and most insatiable of human\npassions, has been intensified by the spectacle of a monarchy commanding,\nwith practically unlimited sway, the resources and the fortunes of a\nworld.\n\nIt was a dazzling prize, offering frightful temptations both to the holder\nand to possible rivals and pretenders. The day on which a Nero or a\nCaligula awoke to all the possibilities of power was a fateful one. And\nTacitus, with the instinct of the tragic artist, has painted the steady,\nfatal corruption of a prince\u2019s character by the corroding influence of\nabsolute and solitary sway. Of all the Caesars down to his time, the only\none who changed for the better was the homely Vespasian. In Tiberius,\nCaligula, and Nero, some of this deterioration of character must be set\ndown to the morbid strain in the Julio-Claudian line, with its hard and\ncruel pride, and its heritage of a tainted blood, of which Nero\u2019s father\nknew the secret so well. Much was also due to the financial exhaustion\nwhich, in successive reigns, followed the most reckless waste. It would be\ndifficult to say whether the emperors or their nobles were the most to\nblame for the example of spendthrift extravagance and insane luxury. Two\ngenerations before the foundation of the Empire, the passion for profusion\nhad set in, which, according to Tacitus, raged unchecked till the\naccession of Vespasian.(174) Certainly, the man who would spend \u00a33000 on a\nmyrrhine vase, \u00a34000 on a table of citrus-wood, or \u00a340,000 on a richly\nwrought carpet from Babylon, had little to learn even from Nero.(175) Yet\nthe example of an emperor must always be potent for good or evil. We have\nthe testimony of Pliny and Claudian,(176) separated by an interval of\nthree hundred years, that the world readily conforms its life to that of\none man, if that man is head of the State. Nero\u2019s youthful enthusiasm for\ndeclamation gave an immense impulse to the passion for rhetoric.(177) His\nenthusiasm for acting and music spread through all ranks, and the\nemperor\u2019s catches were sung at wayside inns.(178) M. Aurelius made\nphilosophy the mode, and the Stoic Emperor is responsible for some of the\nphilosophic imposture which moved the withering scorn of Lucian. The\nEmperor\u2019s favourite drug grew so popular that the price of it became\nalmost prohibitory.(179) If the model of Vespasian\u2019s homely habits had\nsuch an effect in reforming society, we may be sure that the evil example\nof his spendthrift predecessors did at least as much to deprave it.\n\nAnd what an example it was! The extravagance of the Claudian Caesars and\nthe last Flavian has become a piece of historic commonplace. Every one has\nheard of the unguent baths of Caligula, his draughts of melted pearls, his\ngalleys with jewel-studded sterns and gardens and orchards on their decks,\nhis viaduct connecting the Palatine with the Capitoline, his bridge from\nBauli to Puteoli, and many another scheme of that wild brain, which had in\nthe end to be paid for in blood.(180) In a single year Caligula scattered\nin reckless waste more than \u00a320,000,000.(181) Nero proclaimed that the\nonly use of money was to squander it, and treated any prudent calculation\nas meanness.(182) In a brief space he flung away nearly \u00a318,000,000. The\nEgyptian roses for a single banquet cost \u00a335,000.(183) He is said never to\nhave made a progress with less than a thousand carriages; his mules were\nshod with silver.(184) He would stake HS.400,000 on a single throw of the\ndice. The description of his Golden House is like a vision of lawless\nromance.(185) The successors of Galba were equally lavish during their\nbrief term. Otho, another Nero, probably regarded death in battle as a\nrelief from bankruptcy.(186) Within a very few months, Vitellius had flung\naway more than \u00a37,000,000 in vulgar luxury.(187) Vespasian found the\nexhaustion of the public treasury so portentous(188) that he had to resort\nto unpopular economies and taxation on a great scale. Under Domitian, the\nspectacles and largesses lavished on the mob undid all the scrupulous\nfinance of his father,(189) and Nerva had to liquidate the ruinous\nheritage by wholesale retrenchment, and the sale even of the imperial\nfurniture and plate,(190) as M. Aurelius brought to the hammer his\nhousehold treasures, and even the wardrobe and jewels of the empress, in\nthe stress of the Marcomannic war.(191)\n\nBut the great imperial spendthrifts resorted to more simple and primitive\nmethods of replenishing their coffers. Self-indulgent waste is often seen\nlinked with meanness and hard cruelty. The epigram of Suetonius on\nDomitian, _inopia rapax, metu saevus_,(192) sums up the sordid history of\nthe tyranny. The cool biographer of Caligula, Nero, and Domitian, when in\nhis methodical fashion, he has recorded their financial difficulties,\nimmediately proceeds to describe the unblushing rapine or ingenious\nchicanery by which the needy tyrants annexed a coveted estate. The\nemperors now generally protected the provinces from plunder,(193) but they\napplied all the Verrine methods to their own nobles. It was not hard with\nthe help of the sleuth hounds who always gather round the despot, to find\nplausible grounds of accusation. The vague law of majesty, originally\nintended to guard the security of the commonwealth, was now used to throw\nits protection around the sacrosanct prince in whom all the highest powers\nof government were concentrated.(194) The slightest suspicion of\ndisloyalty or discontent, the most insignificant act or word, which a\ndepraved ingenuity could misinterpret, was worked up into a formidable\nindictment by men eager for their share of the plunder. To have written\nthe memoir of a Stoic saint or kept the birthday of a dead emperor, to\npossess an imperial horoscope or a map of the world, to call a slave by\nthe name of Hannibal or a dish by that of Lucullus, might become a fatal\ncharge.(195) \u201cUngrateful testators\u201d who had failed to remember the emperor\nin their wills had to pay heavily for the indiscreet omission.(196) The\nmaterials for such accusations were easily obtained in the Rome of the\nearly Caesars. Life was eminently sociable. A great part of the day was\nspent at morning receptions, in the Forum, the Campus Martius, the\nbarber\u2019s or bookseller\u2019s shops, or in the colonnades where crowds of\nfashionable idlers gathered to relieve the tedium of life by gossip and\nrepartee. It was a city, says Tacitus, which knew everything and talked of\neverything.(197) Never was curiosity more eager or gossip more reckless.\nMen were almost ready to risk their lives for a _bon mot_. And in the\nreign of Nero or Domitian, the risk was a very real one. The imperial\nespionage, of which Maecenas in Dion Cassius recognised at once the danger\nand the necessity,(198) was an organised system even under the most\nblameless emperors It can be traced in the reigns of Nerva, Hadrian, and\nAntoninus Pius.(199) But under the tyrants, voluntary informers sprang up\nin every class. Among the hundreds of slaves attached to a great\nhousehold, there were in such times sure to be spies, attracted by the\nlure of freedom and a fortune, who might report and distort what they had\nobserved in their master\u2019s unguarded hours. Men came to dread possible\ntraitors even among their nearest of kin, among their closest friends of\nthe highest rank.(200) Who can forget the ignominy of those three\nSenators, one of them bearing the historic name of Cato, who, to win the\nconsulship from Sejanus, hid themselves between the ceiling and the roof,\nand caught, through chinks and crannies, the words artfully drawn from the\nvictim by another member of the noble gang? The seventh book of the _Life\nof Apollonius_ by Philostratus is a revelation of the mingled caution and\ntruculence of the methods of Domitian. Here at least we have left the\nworld of romance behind and are on solid ground. We feel around us, as we\nread, the hundred eyes of an omnipresent tyranny. We meet in the prison\nthe magistrate of Tarentum who had been guilty of a dangerous omission in\nthe public prayers, and an Acarnanian who had been guilty of settling in\none of the Echinades.(201) A spy glides into the cells, to listen to the\nprisoners\u2019 talk, and is merely regaled by Apollonius with a description of\nthe wonders he has seen in his wanderings. When we are admitted to the\nsecret tribunal on the Palatine, after Domitian has paid his devotion to\nAthene, we have before us a cruel, stealthy despot, as timid as he is\nbrutally truculent. In spite of all scepticism about Philostratus, we are\nthere at the heart of the Terror.\n\nCompared with this base espionage, even the trade of the delator becomes\nalmost respectable. Like everything in Roman social organisation, delation\nhad a long history, too long to be developed within the space of this\nwork. The work of impeachment, which might be wholesome and necessary\nunder the Republic, in exposing the enormities of provincial government,\nbecame the curse of the Empire. The laws of Augustus for the restoration\nof social morality gave the first chance to the professional delator. The\njealous, secretive rule of Tiberius welcomed such sinister support,(202)\nand although the dark, tortuous policy of the recluse of Capreae might\npunish the excess of zeal in the informers, it was also ready to reward\nthem for opportune displays of energy.(203) The open and daring tyranny of\nCaligula and Nero often dispensed with the hypocrisy of judicial forms of\nassassination. It was reserved for the last Flavian to revive the methods\nof Tiberius.(204) Domitian was at once timid and cruel. He was also a\npedant who concealed from himself his own baseness by a scrupulous\ndevotion to ancient forms even in religion. The obscene libertine, who\nchose the Virgin Goddess as his patroness,(205) could easily make the\nforms of old Roman justice a cloak for confiscation and massacre. In\ntheory the voluntary accuser, without a commission from authority, was a\ndiscredited person. And successive emperors punished or frowned upon the\ndelators of a previous reign.(206) Yet the profession grew in reputation\nand emolument. It is a melancholy proof of the degradation of that society\nthat the delator could be proud of his craft and even envied and admired.\nMen of every degree, freedmen, schoolmasters, petty traders, descendants\nof houses as old as the Republic, men from the rank of the shoemaker\nVatinius(207) to a Scaurus, a Cato, or a Regulus, flocked to a trade which\nmight earn a fabulous fortune and the favour of the prince. There must\nhave been many a career like that of Palfurius Sura, who had fought in the\narena in the reign of Nero, who had been disgraced and stripped of his\nconsular rank under Vespasian, who then turned Stoic and preached the\ngospel of popular government, and, in the reign of Domitian, crowned his\ncareer by becoming a delator, and attempting to found a juristic theory of\nabsolute monarchy.(208)\n\nThe system of Roman education, which was profoundly rhetorical, became a\nhot-bed of this venal oratory. It nourished its pupils on the masterpieces\nof free speech; it inflamed their imaginations with dreams of rhetorical\ntriumph. When they went forth into the world of the Empire, they found the\nonly arena for displaying their powers to be the dull court of the\nCentumviri, or the hired lecture hall, where they might dilate on some\nfrigid or silly theme before a weary audience. It was a tempting\nexcitement to exert the arts learnt in the school of Quintilian in a real\nonslaught, where the life or liberty of the accused was at stake. And the\ngreatest orators of the past had never offered to them such a splendid\nmaterial reward. One fourth of the estate of the condemned man had been\nthe old legal fee of the accuser.(209) But this limit was left far behind\nin the judicial plunder of the early Caesars. Probably in no other way\ncould a man then so easily make himself a millionaire. The leading\naccusers of Thrasea and Soranus in the reign of Nero received each \u00a342,000\nas their reward.(210) These notorious delators, Eprius Marcellus and\nVibius Crispus, accumulated gains reaching, in the end, the enormous\namount of \u00a32,400,000. The famous, or infamous, Regulus, after the most\nprodigal expenditure, left a fortune of half a million.(211) His career is\na striking example of the arts by which, in a debased society, men may\nrise to fortune, and the readiness with which such a society will always\nforgive anything to daring and success. Sprung from an illustrious but\nruined race,(212) Regulus possessed shameless audacity and ruthless\nambition,(213) which were more valuable than birth and fortune. He had\nevery physical defect for a speaker, yet he made himself an orator, with a\nweird power of strangling his victims.(214) He was poor, but he resolved\nto be wealthy, and he reached the fortune which he proposed to himself as\nhis goal. He was vain, cruel, and insolent, a slave of superstition,(215)\nstained with many a perfidious crime. He was a peculiarly skilful and\nperfectly shameless adept in the arts of captation.(216) Yet this cynical\nagent of judicial murder, who began his career in the reign of Nero, lived\non in peace and wealth into the reign of Trajan. He even enjoyed a certain\nconsideration in society.(217) The humane and refined Pliny at once\ndetested and tolerated him. The morning receptions of Regulus, in his\ndistant gardens on the Tiber, were thronged by a fashionable crowd.\n\nThe inner secret of the imperial Terror will probably always perplex the\nhistorian. The solution of the question depends, not only on the value\nwhich is to be attached to our authorities, but on the prepossessions and\nprejudices which are brought to their interpretation. To one critic\nTacitus, although liable to the faults which spring from rhetorical\ntraining and fervid temperament, seems fairly impartial and\ntrustworthy.(218) Another treats the great historian as essentially a\npartisan who derived his materials from the memoirs and traditions of a\nclass inflamed with reactionary dreams and saturated with a hatred of\nmonarchy.(219) Some regard the tragedy of the early Empire as the result\nof a real peril from a senatorial conspiracy which perpetually surrounded\nthe emperor. Others trace it to the diseased brains of princes, giddy with\nthe sense of omnipotence, and often unstrung by vicious excesses, natures\nat once timorous and arrogant, anticipating danger by a maniacal cruelty\nwhich ended in creating the peril that they feared. Is it not possible\nthat there may be truth in both theories? It may be admitted that there\nprobably was never a powerful opposition, with a definitely conceived\npurpose of overthrowing the imperial system, as it had been organised by\nAugustus, and of restoring the republican rule of the Senate. It may be\nadmitted that, while so many of the first twelve Caesars died a violent\ndeath, the violence was used to rid the world of a monster, and not to\nremodel a constitution; it was the emperor, not the Empire, that was\nhated. Yet these admissions need to be qualified by some reservations. The\neffect of the rhetorical character of Roman education in moulding the\ntemper and ideals of the upper classes, down to the very end of the\nWestern Empire, has hardly yet been fully recognised. It petrified\nliterature by the slavish imitation of unapproachable models. It also\nglorified the great ages of freedom and republican government; it exalted\nHarmodius and Aristogeiton, Brutus and Cassius, to a moral height which\nmight suggest to generous youth the duty or the glory of imitating them.\nWhen a rhetor\u2019s class, in the reign of Caligula or of Nero, applauded the\nfall of a historic despot, is it not possible that some may have applied\nthe lesson to the reigning emperor? Although it is evident that\nphilosophic debates on the three forms of government were not unknown, yet\nprobably few ever seriously thought of a restoration of the republic. None\nbut a maniac would have entrusted the nerveless, sensual mob of Rome with\nthe destinies of the world. As a matter of fact, the mob themselves very\nmuch preferred the rule of a lavish despot, who would cater for their\npleasures.(220) But the Senate was still a name of power. In the three or\nfour generations which had passed since the death of the first Caesar, men\nhad forgotten the weakness and perfidy which had made senatorial\ngovernment impossible. They thought of the Senate as the stubborn, haughty\ncaste which had foiled the strategy of Hannibal, which had achieved the\nconquest of the world. The old families might have been more than\ndecimated; new men of doubtful origin might have filled their places.(221)\nBut ancient institutions possess a prestige and power which is often\nindependent of the men who work them. Men are governed largely through\nimagination and mere names. Thus the Senate remained an imaginative symbol\nof the glory of Roman power, down to the last years of the Western Empire.\nThe accomplished Symmachus cherishes the phantasm of its power under\nHonorius. And although a Caligula or Nero might conceive a feverish hatred\nof the assembly which they feared,(222) while they affected to despise it,\nthe better emperors generally made almost a parade of their respect for\nthe Senate.(223) The wisest princes had a feeling that, although they\nmight have at their back the devotion of the legions, and an immense\nmaterial force, still it was wiser to conciliate old Roman feeling by a\npolitic deference to a body which was surrounded by the aureole of\nantiquity, which had such splendid traditions of conquest and\nadministration.\n\nThe Senate was thus the only possible rival of the Emperor. The question\nis, was the Senate ever a dangerous rival? The true answer seems to be\nthat the Senate was dangerous in theory, but not in fact. There can be\nlittle doubt that, in the reigns of Caligula and Nero, there were men who\ndreamed of a restored senatorial power.(224) It is equally certain that\nthe Senate was incapable of asserting it. Luxury, self-indulgence, and\nconscription had done their work effectually. There were many pretenders\nto the principate in the reign of Nero, and even some in the reign of\nVespasian.(225) But they had not a solid and determined Senate at their\nback. The world, and even the Senate, were convinced that the Roman Empire\nneeded the administration of one man. How to get the one man was the\nproblem. Hereditary succession had placed only fools or monsters on the\nthrone. There remained the old principle of adoption. An emperor, feeling\nthat his end was approaching, might, with all his vast experience of the\ngovernment of a world, with all his knowledge of the senatorial class,\nwith no fear of offence in the presence of death,(226) designate one\nworthy of the enormous charge. If such an one came to the principate, with\na generous desire to give the Senate a share of his burdens and his glory,\nthat was the highest ideal of the Empire, and that was the ideal which\nperhaps was approached in the Antonine age. Yet, outside the circle of\npractical statesmen, there remained a class which was long irreconcilable.\nIt has been recently maintained with great force that the Stoic opposition\nwas only the opposition of a moral ideal, not the deliberate propaganda of\na political creed.(227) This may be true of some of the philosophers: it\nis certainly not true of all. Thrasea was a genial man of the world, whose\nseverest censure expressed itself in silence and absence from the\nSenate,(228) who could even, on occasion, speak with deference of Nero.\nBut his son-in-law, Helvidius Priscus, seemed to exult in flouting and\ninsulting a great and worthy emperor such as Vespasian.(229) And the life\nof Apollonius by Philostratus leaves the distinct impression that\nphilosophy, in the reign of Nero and Domitian, was a revolutionary force.\nApollonius, it is true, is represented by Philostratus as supporting the\ncause of monarchy in a debate in the presence of Vespasian.(230) But he\nboasted of having been privy to conspiracies against Nero,(231) and he was\ndeeply involved with Nerva and Orfitus in a plot against Domitian.(232) He\nwas summoned before the secret tribunal to answer for speeches against the\nemperor delivered to crowds at Ephesus.(233) It may be admitted that the\ninvective or scorn of philosophy was aimed at unworthy princes, rather\nthan at the foundations of their power. Yet Dion Cassius evidently regards\nHelvidius Priscus as a turbulent agitator with dangerous democratic\nideals,(234) and he contrasts his violence with the studied moderation,\ncombined with dignified reserve, displayed by Thrasea in the reign of\nNero. The tolerant Vespasian, who bore so long the wanton insults of the\nphilosophers, must have come at length to think them not only an offence\nbut a real danger when he banished them. In the first century there can be\nlittle doubt that there were members of the philosophic class who\ncondemned monarchy, not only as a moral danger, but as a lamentable\naberration from the traditions of republican freedom. There were probably\nsome, who, if the chance had offered itself, might even have ventured on a\nrepublican reaction.\n\nWith a gloomy recognition of the realities of life, Domitian used to say\nthat conspiracy against an emperor was never believed till the emperor was\nkilled.(235) Of the first twelve Caesars seven died a violent death. Every\nemperor from Tiberius to M. Aurelius was the mark of conspiracy. This was\noften provoked by the detestable character of the prince. But it sometimes\nsprang from other causes than moral disgust. The mild rule of Vespasian\nwas generally popular; yet even he had to repel the conspiracy of Aelianus\nand Marcellus.(236) The blameless Nerva, the emperor after the Senate\u2019s\nown heart, was twice assailed by risings organised by great nobles of\nhistoric name.(237) The conspiracy of Nigrinus against Hadrian received\nformidable support, and had to be sternly crushed.(238) M. Aurelius had to\nendure with sad resignation the open rebellion of Avidius Cassius.(239)\nThe better emperors, strong in their character and the general justice of\ntheir administration, might afford to treat such opposition with\ncomparative calmness. But it was different in the case of a Nero or a\nDomitian. The conspiracy of Piso and the conspiracy of Saturninus formed,\nin each case, a climax and a turning-point. Springing from real and\njustified impatience, they were ruthlessly crushed and followed up with a\ncruel and suspicious repression which only increased the danger of the\ndespot. \u201cScelera sceleribus tuenda\u201d sums up the awful tale, in the words\nof Tacitus, \u201cof the wrath of God and the madness of men.\u201d\n\nThere were many causes which rendered the tragedy of the early Empire\ninevitable. Probably the most potent was the undefined position of the\nprince and the dreams of republican power and freedom which for ages were\ncherished by the Senate. Carefully disguised under ancient forms, the\nprincipate of Augustus was really omnipotent, through the possession of\nthe proconsular imperium in the provinces, and the tribunician prerogative\nat home.(240) In the last resort there was no legal means of challenging\nthe man who controlled the legions, nominated the magistrates, and\nmanipulated a vast treasury at his pleasure. The fiction of Augustus, that\nhe had restored the Republic to the hands of the Senate and people, is\nunlikely to have deceived his own astute intellect.(241) The hand which,\nof its grace could restore the _simulacra libertatis_, might as easily\nwithdraw them. The Comitia lost even the shadow of constitutional power in\nthe following reign.(242) Henceforth the people is the army.(243) The\nholders of the great republican magistracies are mere creatures of the\nprince and obedient ministers of his power. The Senate alone retained some\nvestiges of its old power, and still larger pretensions and antiquarian\nclaims. In theory, during a vacancy in the principate, the Senate was the\nultimate seat of authority, and the new emperor received his prerogatives\nby a decree of the Senate. In the work of legislation, its decisions\ndivided the field with the edicts of the prince,(244) and it claimed a\nparallel judicial power. But all this was really illusory. The working of\nsuch a system manifestly depends on the character and ideas of the man who\nfor the time wields the material force of the Empire. And \u201cthe share of\nthe Senate in the government was in fact determined by the amount of\nadministrative activity which each emperor saw fit to allow it to\nexercise.\u201d(245)\n\nThe half-insane Caligula had really a clearer vision of the emperor\u2019s\nposition than the reactionary dreamers, when he told his grandmother\nAntonia, \u201c_Memento omnia mihi in omnes licere_.\u201d(246) He did not need the\nlessons of Agrippa and Antiochus to teach him the secret of tyranny.(247)\nYet institutions can never be separated from the moral and social forces\nwhich lie behind and around them. The emperor had to depend on agents and\nadvisers, many of them of social rank and family traditions equal to his\nown. He had by his side a Senate with a history of immemorial antiquity\nand glory, which cast a spell on the conservative imagination of a race\nwhich recoiled from any impiety to the past. Above all, he was surrounded\nby a populace which took its revenge for the loss of its free Comitia by a\nsurprising licence of lampoon and epigram and mordant gossip and clamorous\nappeal in the circus and theatre.(248) And even the soldiers, who were the\nsworn supporters of the prince, and who often represented better than any\nother class the tone of old Roman gravity and manly virtue, could\nsometimes make their Imperator feel that there was in reserve a power\nwhich he could not safely defy. Hence it was that, with the changing\ncharacter of the prince, the imperial power might pass into a lawless\ntyranny, only to be checked by assassination, while again it might veil\nits forces under constitutional forms, adopt the watchwords of the\nRepublic, exalt the Senate to a place beside the throne, and make even\naccomplished statesmen fancy for the time that the days of ancient liberty\nhad returned.\n\nSuch a dream, not altogether visionary, floated before Pliny\u2019s mind when\nhe delivered his _Panegyric_ in the presence of Trajan. That speech is at\nonce an act of thanksgiving and a manifesto of the Senate. The tone of\nfulsome extravagance is excused by the joy at escaping from a treacherous\ntyranny, which drove virtue into remote retreat, which made friendship\nimpossible, which poisoned the security of household life by a continual\nfear of espionage.(249) The confidence which Pliny expresses in the\nmajestic strength, mingled with modesty and self-restraint, which Trajan\nbrought to the task of the principate, was amply justified. The\noverwhelming force of the emperor seemed, in the new age, to pass into the\nfreely accepted rule of the great citizen.(250) Pliny indeed does not\nconceal from himself the immense actual power of the emperor. He is the\nvicegerent of God, an earthly Providence.(251) His power is not less than\nNero\u2019s or Domitian\u2019s, but it is a power no longer wielded wildly by\nselfish or cruel self-will; it is a power inspired by benevolence,\nvoluntarily submitting itself to the restraints of law and ancient\nsentiment.(252) Founded on service and virtue, it can fearlessly claim the\nloving support of the citizens, while it recalls the freedom of the old\nRepublic. A prince who is hedged by the devotion of his people may\ndispense with the horde of spies and informers, who have driven virtue\ninto banishment and made a crowd of sneaks and cowards. Free speech has\nbeen restored. The Senate, which has so long been expected to applaud with\ngrovelling flattery the most trivial or the most flagitious acts of the\nemperor, is summoned to a share in the serious work of government.(253) A\ncommunity of interest and feeling secures to it a free voice in his\ncounsels, without derogating from his dignity.(254) All this is expressed\nby a scrupulous observance of old republican forms. The commander of\nconquering legions, the Caesar, Augustus, Pontifex Maximus, has actually\ncondescended to take the oath of office, standing before the consul seated\nin his chair!(255) Here we seem to have the key to the senatorial\nposition. They were ready to recognise the overwhelming power of the\nprince, if he, for his part, would only respect in form, if not in\nsubstance, the ancient dignity of the Senate. Tolerance, affability,\npolitic deference to a great name, seemed to Pliny and his kind a\nrestoration of the ancient freedom, almost a revival of the old Republic.\nFortunately for the world a succession of wise princes perceived that, by\ndeference to the pride of the Senate, they could secure the peace of their\nadministration, without diminishing its effective power.\n\nYet, even from Pliny\u2019s _Panegyric_, we can see that the recognition of the\nprerogatives, or rather of the dignity, of the Senate, the coexistence of\nold republican forms side by side with imperial power, depended entirely\non the grace and tolerance of the master of the legions. Nothing could be\nmore curious than Pliny\u2019s assertion of the senatorial claims, combined\nwith the most effusive gratitude to Trajan for conceding them. The emperor\nis only _primus inter pares_, and yet Pliny, by the whole tone of his\nspeech, admits that he is the master who may equally indulge the\nconstitutional claims or superstitions of his subjects or trample on them.\nIn the first century a power, the extent of which depended only on the\nwill of the prince, and yet seemed limited by shadowy claims of ancient\ntradition, was liable to be distrustful of itself and to be challenged by\npretenders. In actual fact, the prince was so powerful that he might\neasily pass into a despot; in theory he was only the first of Roman\nnobles, who might easily have rivals among his own class. Pliny\ncongratulates Trajan on having, by his mildness and justice, escaped the\nterror of pretenders which haunted the earlier emperors, and was often\njustified and cruelly avenged.(256) In spite of the lavish splendour of\nNero or Caligula, the imperial household, till Hadrian\u2019s reorganisation,\nwas still modelled on the lines of other great aristocratic houses. Nero\u2019s\nsuspicions were more than once excited by the scale of establishments like\nthat of the Silani, by wealth and display like Seneca\u2019s, by the lustre of\ngreat historic traditions in a gens like the Calpurnian.(257) The loyalty\nof Corbulo could not save him from the jealousy aroused by his exploits in\neastern war.(258) And the power of great provincial governors, in command\nof great armies, and administering realms such as Gaul or Spain or Syria,\nwas not an altogether imaginary danger. If Domitian seemed distrustful of\nAgricola in Britain, we must remember that he had in his youth seen Galba\nand Vindex marching on Rome, and his father concentrating the forces of\nthe East for the overthrow of Vitellius in the great struggle on the Po.\n\nThe emperor\u2019s fears and suspicions were immensely aggravated by the adepts\nin the dark arts of the East. The astrologers were a great and baneful\npower in the early Empire. They inspired illicit ambitions, or they\nstimulated them, and they often suggested to a timorous prince the danger\nof conspiracy. These venal impostors, in the words of Tacitus, were always\nbeing banished, but they always returned. For the men who drove them into\ntemporary exile had the firmest faith in their skill. The prince would\nhave liked to keep a monopoly of it, while he withdrew from his nobles the\ntemptation which might be offered to their ambition by the mercenary\nadept.(259) Dion Cassius and Suetonius, who were themselves eager\nbelievers in this superstition, never fail to record the influence of the\ndiviners. The reign of Tiberius is full of dark tales about them.(260)\nClaudius drove Scribonianus into exile for consulting an astrologer about\nthe term of his reign.(261) On the appearance of a flaming comet, Nero was\nwarned by his diviner, Bilbilus, that a portent, which always boded ill to\nkings, might be expiated by the blood of their nobles.(262) Otho\u2019s\nastrologer, Seleucus, who had promised that he should survive Nero,(263)\nstimulated his ambition to be the successor of Galba. Vitellius, as\nsuperstitious as Nero or Otho, cruelly persecuted the soothsayers and\nordered their expulsion from Italy.(264) He was defied by a mocking edict\nof the tribe, ordaining his own departure from earth by a certain\nday.(265) Vespasian once more banished the diviners from Rome, but,\nobedient to the superstition which cradled the power of his dynasty, he\nretained the most skilful for his own guidance.(266) The terror of\nDomitian\u2019s last days was heightened by a horoscope, which long before had\nforetold the time and manner of his end.(267) Holding such a faith as\nthis, it is little wonder that the emperors should dread its effect on\nrivals who were equally credulous, or that superstition, working on\nambitious hopes, should have been the nurse of treason. Thus the emperor\u2019s\nuncertain position made him ready to suspect and anticipate a treachery\nwhich may often have had no existence. The objects of his fears in their\nturn were driven into conspiracy, sometimes in self-defence, sometimes\nfrom the wish to seize a prize which seemed not beyond their grasp.\nGossip, lampoon, and epigram redoubled suspicion, while they retaliated\noffences. And cruel repression either increased the danger of revolt in\nthe more daring, or the degradation of the more timorous.\n\nIn the eyes of Tacitus, the most terrible result of the tyranny of the bad\nemperors was the fawning servility of a once proud order, and their craven\ntreachery in the hour of danger. He has painted it with all the\nconcentrated power of loathing and pity. It is this almost personal\ndegradation which inspires the ruthless, yet haughtily restrained, force\nwith which he blasts for ever the memory of the Julio-Claudian despotism.\nIt was in this spirit that he penned the opening chapters of his chronicle\nof the physical and moral horrors of the year in which that tyranny\nclosed. The voice of history has been silenced or perverted, partly by the\nignorance of public affairs, partly by the eagerness of adulation, or the\nbitterness of hatred. It was an age darkened by external disasters, save\non the eastern frontier, by seditions and civil war, and the bloody death\nof four princes. The forces of nature seemed to unite with the rage of men\nto deepen the universal tragedy. Italy was overwhelmed with calamities\nwhich had been unknown for many ages; Campania\u2019s fairest cities were\nswallowed up; Rome itself had been wasted by fire; the ancient Capitol was\ngiven to the flames by the hands of citizens. Polluted altars, adultery in\nhigh places, the islands of the sea crowded with exiles, rank and wealth\nand virtue made the mark for a cruel jealousy, all this forms an awful\npicture.(268) But even more repulsive is the spectacle of treachery\nrewarded with the highest place, slaves and clients betraying their master\nfor gain, and men without an enemy ruined by their friends. When the\nspotless Octavia, overwhelmed by the foulest calumnies, had been tortured\nto death, to satisfy the jealousy of an adulteress, offerings were voted\nto the temples.(269) And Tacitus grimly requests his readers to presume\nthat, as often as a banishment or execution was ordered by Nero, so often\nwere thanksgivings offered to the gods. The horrors of Nero\u2019s remorse for\nthe murder of Agrippina were soothed by the flatteries and congratulations\nof his staff, and the grateful sacrifices which were offered for his\ndeliverance by the Campanian towns.(270) Still, the notes of a funereal\ntrumpet and ghostly wailings from his mother\u2019s grave were ever in his\nears,(271) and he long doubted the reception which he might meet with on\nhis return to the capital. He need not have had any anxiety. Senate and\npeople vied with one another in self-abasement. He was welcomed by all\nranks and ages with fawning enthusiasm as he passed along in triumphal\nprogress to return thanks on the Capitol for the success of an unnatural\ncrime.\n\nThe Pisonian conspiracy against Nero was undoubtedly an important and\nserious event. Some of the greatest names of the Roman aristocracy were\ninvolved in it, and the man whom it would have placed on the throne, if\nnot altogether untainted by the excesses of his time, had some imposing\nqualities which might make him seem a worthy competitor for the\nprincipate.(272) But, to Tacitus, the conspiracy seems to be chiefly\ninteresting as a damning proof of the degradation of the aristocracy under\nthe reign of terror. Epicharis, the poor freedwoman of light character,\nwho bore the accumulating torture of scourge and rack and fire, and the\ndislocation of every limb, is brought into pathetic contrast with the\nhigh-born senators and knights, who, without any compulsion of torture,\nbetrayed their relatives and friends.(273) Scaevinus, a man of the highest\nrank, knowing himself betrayed by his freedman and a Roman knight,\nrevealed the whole plot.(274) The poet Lucan tried in vain to purchase\nsafety by involving his own mother. But Nero was inexorable, and the poet\ndied worthily, reciting some verses from the _Pharsalia_, which describe a\nsimilar end.(275) The scenes which followed the massacre are an awful\nrevelation of cowardly sycophancy. While the streets were thronged with\nthe funerals of the victims, the altars on the Capitol were smoking with\nsacrifices of gratitude. One craven after another, when he heard of the\nmurder of a brother or a dear friend, would deck his house with laurels,\nand, falling at the emperor\u2019s feet, cover his hand with kisses.(276) The\nSenate prostrated themselves before Nero when, stung by the popular\nindignation, he appeared to justify his deed. The august body voted him\nthanksgivings and honours.(277) The consul elect, one of the Anician\nhouse, proposed that a temple should be built with all speed to the divine\nNero! Tacitus relieves this ghastly spectacle of effeminate cowardice by a\nscene which is probably intended, by way of contrast, to save the\ntradition of Roman dignity. Vestinus, the consul of that fatal year, had\nbeen a boon companion of the emperor, and had shown contempt for his\ncowardice in dangerous banter. Nero was eager to find him implicated in\nthe plot, but no evidence of his guilt could be obtained. All legal forms\nat length were flung aside, and a cohort was ordered to surround his\nhouse. Vestinus was at dinner in his palace which towered over the Forum,\nsurrounded by guests, with a train of handsome slaves in waiting, when he\nreceived the mandate. He rose at once from table, and shut himself in his\nchamber with his physician, lancet in hand, by his side. His veins were\nopened, and, without a word of self-pity, Vestinus allowed his life to ebb\naway in the bath.(278)\n\nVestinus, after all, only asserted, in the fashion of the time, his right\nto choose the manner of a death which could not be evaded. But Tacitus,\nhere and there, gives glimpses of self-sacrifice, courageous loyalty and\nhumanity, which save his picture of society from utter gloom. The love and\ndevotion of women shine out more brightly than ever against the background\nof baseness. Tender women follow their husbands or brothers into exile, or\nare found ready to share their death.(279) Even the slave girls of Octavia\nbrave torture and death in their hardy defence of her fair fame.(280)\nThere is no more pathetic story of female heroism than that of Politta,\nthe daughter of L. Vetus. He had been colleague of the emperor in the\nconsulship, but he had the misfortune to be father-in-law of Rubellius\nPlautus, whose lofty descent and popularity drew down the sentence of\ndeath, even in distant exile.(281) Politta had clasped the bleeding neck\nof Plautus in her arms, and nursed her sorrow in an austere\nwidowhood.(282) She now besieged the doors of Nero with prayers, and even\nmenaces, for her father\u2019s acquittal. Vetus himself was of the nobler sort\nof Roman men, who even then were not extinct. When he was advised, in\norder to save the remnant of his property for his grandchildren, to make\nthe emperor chief heir, he spurned the servile proposal, divided his ready\nmoney among his slaves, and prepared for the end.(283) When all hope was\nabandoned, father, grandmother, and daughter opened their veins and died\ntogether in the bath. Plautius Lateranus met his end with the same stern\ndignity. Forbidden even to give a last embrace to his children, and\ndragged to the scene of servile executions, he died in silence by the hand\nof a man who was an undiscovered partner in the plot.(284) Even the mob of\nRome, for whose fickle baseness Tacitus has a profound scorn, now and then\nreveal a wholesome moral feeling. When Octavia, on a trumped-up charge of\nadultery, was divorced and banished by Nero, the clamour of the populace\nforced him to recall her for a time, and the mob went so far in their\nvirtuous enthusiasm as to overthrow the statues of the adulteress Poppaea,\nand crown the images of Octavia with flowers.(285) Perhaps even more\nstriking is the humane feeling displayed towards the slaves of the urban\nprefect, Pedanius Secundus. He had been murdered by a slave, and the\nancient law required, in such a case, the execution of the whole\nhousehold. The proposal to carry out the cruel custom drove the populace\nalmost to revolt. And it is a relief to find that a strong minority of the\nSenate were on the side of humanity.(286) But the army, above all other\nclasses, still bred a rough, honest virtue. It was left, amid the general\neffeminate cowardice, for a tribune of a pretorian cohort to tell Nero to\nhis face that he loathed him as a murderer and an incendiary.(287) Again\nand again, in that terrible year, when great nobles were flattering the\nEmperor, whom in a few days or hours they meant to desert, the common\nsoldiers remained true to the death of their unworthy chiefs. When Otho\nredeemed a tainted life by a not ignoble end, the pretorians kissed his\nwounds, bore him with tears to burial, and many killed themselves over his\ncorpse.(288) In the storming of the pretorian camp by the troops of\nVespasian, the soldiers of Vitellius, outnumbered and doomed to certain\ndefeat, fell to a man with all their wounds in front.(289)\n\nTo these faithful, though often bloodthirsty, warriors the senators and\nknights of those days offered a contemptible contrast. Often the\ninheritors of great names and great traditions, the mass of them knew\nnothing of arms or the military virtue of their ancestors.(290) Sunk in\nsloth and enervated by excess, they followed Otho to the battlefield on\nthe Po with their cooks and minions and all the apparatus of luxury.(291)\nIn the rapid changes of fortune, from Galba to Otho, from Otho to\nVitellius, from Vitellius to Vespasian, the great nobles had one guiding\nprinciple, the determination to be on the winning side. It was indeed a\npuzzling and anxious time for a calculating selfishness, when a reign\nmight not last for a month, and when the adulation of Otho or Vitellius in\nthe Senate-house was disturbed by the sound of the legions advancing from\nEast and West. But the supple cowards of the Senate proved equal to the\nstrain. They had the skill to flatter their momentary master without any\ncompromising word against his probable successor. They soothed the\nanxieties of Vitellius with unstinted adulation, yet carefully refrained\nfrom anything reflecting on the Flavianist leaders.(292) Within a few\nmonths, full of joy and hope, which were now at last well founded, they\nwere voting all the customary honours of a new principate to\nVespasian.(293) The terror of Tiberius, Caligula, and Nero had done its\nwork effectually. And its worst result was the hopeless self-abandonment\nand sluggish cowardice of a class, whose chief _raison d\u2019\u00eatre_ in every\nage is to maintain a tradition of gallant dignity. It is true that many of\nthe scions of great houses were mere mendicants, ruined by confiscation or\nprodigality, and compelled to live on the pension by which the emperor\nkept them in shameful dependence,(294) or on the meaner dole of some\nwealthy patron.(295) A Valerius Messala, grandson of the great Corvinus,\nhad to accept a pension from Nero.(296) A grandson of Hortensius had to\nendure the contempt of Tiberius in obtaining a grant for his sons.(297)\nOthers were unmanned by the voluptuous excesses of an age which had\ncarried the ingenuity of sensual allurement to its utmost limits. The\nhopelessness of any struggle with a power so vast as that of the emperor,\nso ruthless and wildly capricious as that of the Claudian Caesars, reduced\nmany to despairing apathy.(298) And while, from a safe historic distance,\nwe pour our contempt on the cringing Senate of the first century, it might\nbe well to remind ourselves of their perils and their tortures. There was\nmany a senatorial house, like that of the Pisos, whose leading members\nwere never allowed to reach middle age.(299) Much should be forgiven to a\nclass which was daily and hourly exposed to such danger, so sudden in its\nonsets, so secret and stealthy, so all-pervading. It might come in an open\ncircumstantial indictment, with all the forms of law and the weight of\nsuborned testimony; it might appear in a quiet order for suicide; the\nstroke might descend at the farthest limits of the Empire,(300) in some\nretreat in Spain or Asia. The haunting fear of death had an unnerving\neffect. But not less degrading were the outrages to Roman, or ordinary\nhuman dignity to which the noble order had to submit for more than a\ngeneration. They had seen their wives defiled or compelled to expose\nthemselves as harlots in a foul spectacle, to gratify the diseased\nprurience of the emperor.(301) They had been forced to fight in the arena\nor to exhibit themselves on the tragic stage.(302) Men who had borne the\nancient honours of the consulship had been ordered to run for miles beside\nthe chariot of Caligula, or to wait at his feet at dinner.(303) Fathers\nhad had to witness without flinching the execution of their sons, and\ndrink smilingly to the emperor on the evening of the fatal day.(304) The\nonly safety at such a court lay in calmly accepting insults with affected\ngratitude. The example of Nero\u2019s debauchery, and the seductive charm which\nhe undoubtedly possessed, were probably as enfeebling and demoralising as\nthe Terror. He formed a school, which laughed at all virtue and made\nself-indulgence a fine art. Men who had shared in these obscene revels\nwere the leaders in the awful scenes of perfidy, lust, and cruelty which\nappropriately followed the death of their patron.(305) Some of them,\nPetronius, Otho, Vitellius, closed their career appropriately by a tragic\ndeath. But others lived on into the age of reformation, to defame the\nstout Sabine soldier who saved the Roman world.(306)\n\nIn spite of the manly virtue and public spirit of Vespasian, the Roman\nworld had to endure a fierce ordeal before it entered on the peace of the\nAntonine age. Even Vespasian\u2019s reign was troubled by conspiracy.(307) His\nobscure origin moved the contempt of the great senatorial houses who still\nsurvived. His republican moderation gave the philosophic doctrinaires a\nchance of airing their impossible dream of restoring a municipal Republic\nto govern a world. His conscientious frugality, which was absolutely\nneeded to retrieve the bankruptcy of the Neronian r\u00e9gime, was despised and\nexecrated both by the nobles and the mob. Another lesson was needed both\nby the Senate and the philosophers. Society had yet to be purged as by\nfire, and the purging came with the accession of Domitian.\n\nThe inner secret of that sombre reign will probably remain for ever a\nmystery. There is the same question about Domitian as there is about\nTiberius. Was he bad from the beginning, or was he gradually corrupted by\nthe consciousness of immense power,(308) and the fear of the great order\nwho might challenge it? Our authorities do not furnish a satisfying\nanswer. We know Domitian only from the narrative of men steeped in\nsenatorial traditions and prejudices,(309) and, some of them, intoxicated\nby the vision of a reconciliation of the principate with the republican\nideals. The dream was a noble one, and it was about to be partially\nrealised for three generations, under a succession of good emperors. But\nthe men inspired with such an ideal were not likely to be impartial judges\nof an emperor like Domitian. And even from their narrative of his reign,\nwe can see that he was not, at least in the early years of his reign,(310)\nthe utter monster he has been painted. Even severe judges in modern days\nadmit that he was an able and strenuous man, with a clear, cold, cynical\nintellect,(311) which recognised some of the great problems of the time,\nand strove to solve them. He was indefatigable in judicial work.(312) In\nspite of the sneers at his mock triumphs,(313) his military and provincial\nadministration was probably guided by a sound conception of the resources\nand the dangers of the Empire. His recall of Agricola, after a seven\nyears\u2019 command in Britain, was attributed to jealousy and fear.(314) It is\nmore probable that it was dictated by a wish to stop a campaign which was\ndiverting large sums to the conquest of barren mountains. Domitian was an\norator and verse writer of some merit, and he gave his patronage, although\nnot in a very liberal way, to men like Quintilian, Statius, and\nMartial.(315) Like Nero, he felt the force of the new Hellenist movement,\nand, under forms sanctioned by Roman antiquarians, he established a\nquinquennial festival in which literary genius was pompously\nrewarded.(316) He had the public libraries, which had been devastated by\nfires in the previous reigns, liberally restocked with fresh stores of\nMSS. from Alexandria.(317) He gave close attention, whatever we may think\nof his science, to the economic problems of the Empire. And his\ndiscouragement of the vine, in favour of a greater acreage of corn, would\nfind sympathy in our own time, as it was applauded by Apollonius of\nTyana.(318) The man who decimated the Roman aristocracy towards the end of\nhis reign, advanced to high positions some of those who were destined to\nbe his bitterest defamers. Pliny and Tacitus and Trajan\u2019s father rose to\nhigh office in the earlier part of Domitian\u2019s reign.(319) He designated to\nthe consulship such men as Nerva, Trajan, Verginius Rufus, Agricola, and\nthe grandfather of Antoninus Pius.(320) This strange character was also a\nmoral reformer of the antiquarian type. He punished erring Vestals, _more\nmajorum_. He revived the Scantinian law against those enormities of the\nEast, of which Statius shows that the emperor was not guiltless\nhimself.(321) Yet a voluptuary, with a calm outlook on his time, may have\na wish to restrain vices with which he is himself tainted. A statesman may\nbe a puritan reformer, both in religion and morals, without being\npersonally severe and devout. Domitian may have had a genuine, if a\npedantic, desire to restore the old Roman tone in morals and religion. He\nwas, after all, sprung from a sober Sabine stock,(322) although he may\nhave sadly degenerated from it in his own conduct. And his attempt to\nreform Roman society may perhaps have been as sincere as that of Augustus.\n\nBut there can be little doubt that Domitian, although he was astute and\nable, was also a bad man, with the peculiar traits which always make a man\nunpopular. He was disloyal as a son and as a brother. He was morose, and\nhe cultivated a suspicious solitude,(323) around which evil rumour is sure\nto gather. The rumour in his case may have been well-founded, although we\nare not bound to believe all the tales of prurient gossip which Suetonius\nhas handed down. It is the penalty of high place that peccadilloes are\nmagnified into sins, and sins are multiplied and exaggerated. It was a\nrecognised and effective mode of flattering a new emperor to blacken the\ncharacter of his predecessors; Domitian himself allowed his court poets to\nvilify Caligula and Nero.(324) And Pliny in his fulsome adulation of\nTrajan, finds his most effective resource in a perpetual contrast with\nDomitian. Tacitus could never forgive the recall and humiliation of his\nfather-in-law. The Senate as a whole bore an implacable hatred to the man\nwho carried to its furthest point the assertion of imperial\nprerogative.(325) Still the authorities are so unanimous that we are bound\nto believe that Domitian, with some strength and ability, had many\nexecrable qualities. He shows the contradictions of a nature in which the\nforce of a sturdy rural ancestry has not been altogether sapped by the\ntemptations of luxury and power. He had a passionate desire to rival the\nmilitary glory of his father and brother, yet he was too cautious and\nself-indulgent to attain it. He had some taste for literature, but he kept\nliterature in leading-strings, and put one man to death for his delight in\ncertain speeches in Livy, and another for a too warm eulogy of Thrasea and\nHelvidius Priscus.(326) He threw his whole strength into a moral and\nreligious reaction, while he was the bitterest enemy of the republican\npretensions and dreams of the Senate. Great historical critics have called\nhim a hypocrite.(327) It may be doubted whether any single phrase or\nformula could express the truth about such a twisted and perverse\ncharacter. Probably his dominant passion was vanity and love of grandiose\ndisplay. He assumed the consulship seventeen times, a number quite\nunexampled.(328) His pompous triumphs for unreal victories were a subject\nof common jest. He filled the Capitol with images of himself, and a\ncolossal statue towered for a time over the temple roofs.(329) The son and\nbrother of emperors, already exalted to divine honours, he went farther\nthan any of his predecessors in claiming divinity for himself, and he\nallowed his ministers and court poets to address him as \u201cour Lord\nGod.\u201d(330) His lavish splendour in architecture was to some extent\njustified by the ravages of fire in previous reigns. But the \u00a32,400,000\nexpended on the gilding of a temple on the Capitol,(331) was only one item\nin an extravagance which drained the treasury. Its radiance, which dazzled\nthe eyes of Rutilius in the reign of Honorius,(332) was paid for in blood\nand tears. The emperor, who was the ruthless enemy of the nobles, like all\nhis kind, was profusely indulgent to the army and the mob. The legions had\ntheir pay increased by a fourth. The populace of Rome were pampered with\ncostly and vulgar spectacles,(333) as they were to the end of the Western\nEmpire. Domitian\u2019s indulgence of that fierce and obscene proletariat was\nonly a little more criminal than that of other emperors, because it ended\nin a bankruptcy which was followed by robbery and massacre. While the rich\nand noble were assailed on any trivial accusation, in order to fill an\nempty treasury, the beasts of Numidia were tearing their victims,\ngladiators were prostituting a noble courage in dealing inglorious wounds\nin the arena, and fleets of armed galleys charged and crashed in mimic,\nyet often deadly, battle in the flooded Flavian amphitheatre.(334)\n\nTo repair this waste the only resource was plunder. But Domitian was a\npettifogger as well as a plunderer; he would fleece or assassinate his\nvictims under forms of law. The law of majesty, and the many laws for\nrestoring old Roman morality, needed only a little ingenuity and\neffrontery to furnish lucrative grounds for impeachment.(335) The tribe of\ndelators were ready to his hand. He had punished them for serving Nero;\nthey were now to reap a richer harvest under Domitian. Every fortune which\nrose above mediocrity, every villa with rich pastures and woodlands in the\nApennines, or on the northern lakes, was marked for plunder.(336) Domitian\nwas the first and only emperor who assumed the censorship for life.(337)\nThe office made him absolute master of the lives and fortunes of his\nnobles. A casual word, a thoughtless gesture, might be construed into an\nact of treason; and the slave households furnished an army of spies. Nay,\neven kindred and near friends were drawn into this vast conspiracy against\ndomestic peace and security. It may be admitted that Domitian had to face\na real peril. The rebellion of Antonius Saturninus was an attempt which no\nprince could treat lightly, and the destruction of the correspondence in\nwhich so many men of rank were involved, may well have heightened\nDomitian\u2019s alarm.(338) He struck out blindly and savagely. He compelled\nthe Senate to bear a part in the massacre, and Tacitus has confessed, with\npathetic humiliation, his silent share in the murder of the upright and\ninnocent.(339) Yet the imperial inquisitor was himself racked with terror\nin his last hours. He walked in a corridor where the walls were lined with\nmirrors,(340) so that no unseen hand might strike him from behind. On his\nlast morning he started in terror from his bed and called for the diviner\nwhom he had summoned from Germany.(341) But, amid all his terror, Domitian\nhad a deep natural love of cruelty. He was never more dangerous than when\nhe chose to be agreeable;(342) he loved to play with his victims. What a\ngrim delight in exquisite torture, what a cynical contempt for the Roman\nnobles, are revealed in the tale of his funereal banquet!(343) The select\ncompany were ushered into a chamber draped from floor to ceiling in black.\nAt the head of each couch stood a pillar like a tombstone, with the\nguest\u2019s name engraved upon it, while overhead swung a cresset such as men\nhang in vaults of the dead. A troop of naked boys, black as all around,\ndanced an awful measure, and then set on the dismal meal which was\noffered, by old Roman use, to the spirits of the departed. The guests were\npalsied with terror, expecting every moment to be their last. And the\ndeath-like silence was only broken by the voice of the Emperor as he told\na gruesome tale of bloody deaths. In such cynicism of lawless power, in\nsuch meek degradation of a once proud order, did the tyranny of the first\ncentury reach its close.\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAPTER II\n\n\n                        THE WORLD OF THE SATIRIST\n\n\nJuvenal and Tacitus, although they moved in different circles and probably\nnever met, have much in common. Both were released from an ignominious\nsilence by the death of Domitian. Both were then at the age which combines\nthe ripeness of experience and reflection with a fire and energy still\nunflagging.(344) They were, from different causes, both filled with hatred\nand disgust for the vices of their time, and their experience had\nengendered in both a pessimism which darkened their faith. Tacitus\nbelonged to the senatorial order who had held high office, and had seen\nits ranks decimated and its dignity outraged under the tyranny. Juvenal\nsprang from the lower middle class, which hated alike the degenerate noble\nand the insolent _parvenu_ far more than it hated even a Domitian. Yet\nboth Juvenal and Tacitus are united in a passionate admiration for the old\nRoman character. Their standards and ideals are drawn from the\nhalf-mythical ages of the simple warriors and farmer-statesmen of the old\nRepublic. And their estimate of their time needs to be scrutinised in the\nlight both of their hatreds and of their ideals.\n\nThe life of Juvenal is wrapt in obscurity, although nine lives of him are\nextant.(345) Scholars are still at variance as to the date of his birth,\nthe date of many of his satires, and especially as to the time and\ncircumstances of his banishment, about which there is so uniform a\ntradition. But, for our purpose, some facts are clear enough. Juvenal was\nthe son of a well-to-do freedman of Aquinum, and rose to the highest\nmagisterial office in his native town at some time of his career.(346) He\ncarefully hides his personal history from us; but we might gather from his\nSatires that he belonged to the lower middle class,(347) that he was in\ntemper and tone an old plebeian of the times of the Republic, although\nvividly touched by the ideas of a new morality which had been afloat for\nmore than two generations. But, like Tacitus, he has little sympathy with\nthe great philosophic movement which was working a silent revolution. He\nhad the rhetorical training of the time, with all its advantages and its\ndefects. And he is more a rhetorician than a poet. We can well believe the\nreport that his early literary enthusiasm found vent in declamation on\nthose mythical or frivolous themes which exercised the youth in the Roman\nschools for many centuries. Although he was hardly a poor man(348) in the\nsense in which Martial, his friend, was poor, yet he had stooped to bear\nthe ignominy and hardships of client dependence. He had hurried in rain\nand storm in the early morning to receptions at great houses on the\nEsquiline, through the squalor and noises and congested traffic of the\nSuburra.(349) He had doubtless often been a guest at those \u201cunequal\ndinners,\u201d where the host, who was himself regaled with far-fetched\ndainties and old crusted Alban or Setine wine, insulted his poorer friends\nby offering them the cheapest vintage and the meanest fare.(350) He had\nbeen compelled, as a matter of social duty, to sit through the recitation\nof those ambitious and empty Theseids and Thebaids, with which the rich\namateur in literature in those days afflicted his long-suffering\nfriends.(351) He may have been often elbowed aside by some supple, clever\nGreek, with versatile accomplishments and infinite audacity. He may have\nbeen patronised or insulted by a millionaire _parvenu_, like the\nTrimalchio of Petronius, tainted with the memories of a shameful\nservitude. He saw new vulgar wealth everywhere triumphant, while the\nstiff, yet, in many ways, wholesome conventionality of old Roman life was\ndefied and trampled upon by an aggressive vulgarity. In such a world there\nwas little room for the man whose wealth is in his genius, and who clings\nto the traditions of ages which believed that men had a soul as well as a\nbody. A man like Juvenal, living in such a society, almost necessarily\nbecomes embittered. Like Johnson, in his Grub Street days, he will have\nhis hours when bitterness passes into self-abandonment, and he will sound\nthe depths of that world of corruption which in his better moods he\nloathes. Some of the associates of Juvenal were of very doubtful position,\nand more than doubtful morals;(352) and the warmth of some of his\nrealistic painting of dark sides of Roman life arouses the suspicion that\nhe may have at times forgotten his moral ideal. He certainly knows the\nshameful secrets of Roman life almost as well as his friend Martial does.\nBut his knowledge, however gained, was turned to a very different purpose\nfrom that which inspired Martial\u2019s brilliant prurience.(353)\n\nThe Satires of Juvenal were probably not given to the world till after the\ndeath of Domitian.(354) The date of the earliest is about 100 A.D., that\nof the latest probably 127. Juvenal cautiously disguises his attacks on\nhis own time. He whets his sword against the sinners whose ashes have long\nreposed beside the Flaminian and the Latin ways.(355) Very few of his\ncontemporaries appear in his pages,(356) and the scenery is often that of\nthe reigns of Tiberius, Claudius, or Nero. But his deepest and most vivid\nimpressions must have come to Juvenal in that period which has been\nphotographed with such minute exactness by Martial. And there is a\nstriking correspondence between the two writers, not only in many of the\ncharacters whom they introduce, but in their pictures of the whole state\nof morals and letters.(357) They both detested that frigid epic which\nlaboriously ploughed the sands of conventional legend, and they turned\nwith weariness from the old-world tales of Thebes or Argos to the real\ntragedy or comedy of Roman life around them. Although they were friends\nand companions, it is needless to assume any close partnership in their\nstudies. Starting with the same literary impulse, they deal to a large\nextent with the same vices and follies, some of them peculiar to their own\nage, others common to all ages of Rome, or even of the world of\ncivilisation. A long list might easily be compiled of their common stock\nof subjects, and their common antipathies. In both writers we meet the\nsame grumbling of the needy client against insolent or niggardly patrons,\nthe complaints of the struggling man of letters about the extravagant\nrewards of low vulgar impostors. Both are bored to death, like the patient\nPliny, by the readings of wealthy scribblers, or by tiresome pleadings in\nthe courts, measured by many a turn of the clepsydra. They feel an equal\ndisgust for the noise and squalor of the narrow streets, an equal love for\nthe peace and freshness and rough plenty of the country farm. In both may\nbe seen the scions of great houses reduced to mendicancy, ambitious\npoverty betaking itself to every mean or disreputable device, the\nlegacy-hunter courting the childless rich with flattery or vicious\ncompliance. You will often encounter the sham philosopher, as you meet him\nsixty years afterwards in the pages of Lucian, with his loud talk of\nvirtue and illustrious names, while his cloak covers all the vices of dog\nand ape. Both deal rather ungently with the character of women,\u2014their\nintrigues with actors, gladiators, and slaves, their frequent divorces and\nrapid succession of husbands, their general abandonment of antique\nmatronly reserve. Both have, in fact, with different motives, uncovered\nthe secret shame of the ancient world; and, more even than by that shame,\nwas their indignation moved by the great social revolution which was\nconfusing all ranks, and raising old slaves, cobblers, and auctioneers to\nthe benches of the knights.\n\nYet with this resemblance in the subjects of their choice, there is the\nwidest difference between the two writers in their motive and mode of\ntreatment. Martial, of course, is not a moralist at all; the mere\nsuggestion excites a smile. He is a keen and joyous observer of the faults\nand follies, the lights and shades, of a highly complex and artificial\nsociety which is \u201cgetting over-ripe.\u201d In the power of mere objective\ndescription and minute portraiture of social life, Martial is almost\nunique. Through his verses, we know the society of Domitian as we know\nhardly any other period of ancient society. But this very vividness and\ntruthfulness is chiefly due to the fact that Martial was almost without a\nconscience. He was indeed personally, perhaps, not so bad as he is often\npainted.(358) He knows and can appreciate a good woman;(359) he can love,\nwith the simplest, unsophisticated love, an innocent slave-child, the poor\nlittle Erotion,(360) whom he has immortalised. He can honour a simple\nmanly character, free from guile and pretence.(361) He has a genuine,\nexuberant love of the fresh joys of country life, sharpened, no doubt, by\nthe experience of the client\u2019s sordid slavery, amid the mingled poverty\nand lavish splendour of the capital.(362) Where could one find a fresher,\nprettier idyll than his picture of the farm of Faustinus, with its packed\ngranaries, and its cellars fragrant with the juice of many an old autumn\nvintage, the peacock spreading his jewelled plumage, and the ring-dove\ncooing overhead from the towers? The elegant slaves of the great house in\nthe city are having a holiday, and busy, under the bailiff\u2019s care, with\nrural toils, or fishing in the stream. The tall daughters of the\nneighbouring cottages bring in their well-stocked baskets to the villa,\nand all gather joyously at evening to a plenteous meal.(363) Martial has,\nmoreover, one great virtue, which is a powerful antidote for many moral\nfaults, the love of the far-off home of his childhood, the rugged\nBilbilis, with its iron foundries near the sources of the Tagus, to which\nhe retreated from the crush and din of plebeian life at Rome, and where he\nrests.(364) But when charity or justice has done its best for Martial, and\nno scholar will repudiate the debt, it still remains true that he\nrepresents, perhaps better than any other, that pagan world, naked and\nunabashed, and feels no breath of inspiration from the great spiritual\nmovement which, in paganism itself, was setting towards an ideal of purity\nand self-conquest.\n\nJuvenal, at least in his later work, reveals a moral standard and motive\napparently unknown to Martial.(365) It may be admitted, indeed, that\nJuvenal did not always write under the same high impulse. He had the\nrhetorician\u2019s love of fine, telling phrases, and startling effects. He had\na rare gift of realistic painting, and he exults in using it. He has also\nburning within him an old plebeian pride which looked down at once on the\ndegenerate son of an ancient house, and on the _nouveaux riches_, whose\nrise seemed to him the triumph of vulgar opulence without the restraint of\ntraditions or ideals. Conscious of great talents, with a character almost\nfierce in its energy, he felt a burning hatred of a society which seemed\nto value only material success, or those supple and doubtful arts which\ncould invent some fresh stimulus for exhausted appetite. In Juvenal a\ngreat silent, sunken class, whom we hardly know otherwise than from the\ninscriptions on their tombs,(366) finds for once a powerful voice and a\nterrible avenger. But, along with this note of personal or class feeling,\nthere is in Juvenal a higher moral intuition, a vision of a higher life,\nwhich had floated before some Roman minds long before his time,(367) and\nwhich was destined to broaden into an accepted ideal. Juvenal, indeed, was\nno philosopher, and he had, like Tacitus, all the old Roman distrust of\nthe theories of the schools.(368) He had probably little respect for such\nteaching as Seneca\u2019s.(369) Yet in important points he and Seneca belong to\nthe same order of the elect. Although, perhaps, a less spotless character\nthan Tacitus, he is far more advanced and modern in his breadth of\nsympathy and moral feeling. He feels acutely for the conquered provinces\nwhich have been fleeced and despoiled of their wealth and artistic\ntreasures, and which are still exposed to the peculation and cruelty of\ngovernors and their train.(370) He denounces, like Seneca, the contempt\nand cruelty often shown to slaves. The man whose ideal seems often to be\ndrawn from the hard, stern warriors who crushed the Samnites and baffled\nthe genius of Hannibal, in his old age has come to glorify pity and\ntenderness for suffering as the best gift of God, the gift that separates\nhim most widely from the brute creation.(371) He preaches sympathy and\nmutual help, in an age torn by selfish individualist passions. He\ndenounces the lust for revenge almost in the tones of a Christian\npreacher.(372) What heathen moralist has painted more vividly the horrors\nof the guilty conscience, that unseen inquisitor, with sterner more\nsearching eyes than Rhadamanthus? Who has taught with greater power that\nthe root of sin is in the evil thought?(373) Juvenal realises, like\nTacitus and Quintilian, the curse of a tainted ancestry, and the\nincalculable importance of pure example in the education of youth.(374)\nHe, who knew so well the awful secrets of Roman households, sets an\nimmense value on the treasure of an untainted boyhood, like that of the\nploughman\u2019s son, who waits at Juvenal\u2019s simple meal \u201cand sighs for his\nmother, and the little cottage, and his playmates the kids.\u201d(375)\nObservation of character had also taught him the fatal law that the\ndownward path in conduct, once entered on, is seldom retraced. And this\nmoral insight seems to come to Juvenal not from any consciously held\nphilosophic doctrine, nor from a settled religious faith. His faith, like\nthat of many of his time, was probably of the vaguest. He scorns and\ndetests the Eastern worships which were pouring in like a flood, and\ncarrying away even loose women of the world.(376) He pillories the venal\nstar-reader from the East and the Jewish hag who interprets dreams. But he\nhas also scant respect for classic mythologies, and regrets the simple,\nlong-gone age, before heaven became crowded with divinities, before Saturn\nhad exchanged the diadem for the sickle, when Juno was still a little\nmaid,(377) when the terrors of Tartarus, the wheel, the vulture, and the\nlash of the Furies had not taken the place of a simple natural\nconscience.(378)\n\nJuvenal\u2019s moral tone then appears to unite the spirit of two different\nages. In some of his later Satires you catch the accent of the age which\nwas just opening when Juvenal began to write, its growing sense of the\nequality and brotherhood of man, its cosmopolitan morality, its ideals of\nspiritual culture. But there are other elements in Juvenal, derived from\nold Roman prejudice and conventionality, or the result of personal\ntemperament and experience, which are quite as prominent. Juvenal is an\nutter pessimist about his time, more extreme even than Tacitus. His age,\nif we believe him, has attained the climax of corruption, and posterity\nwill never improve upon its finished depravity.(379) His long practice as\na declaimer had given him a habit of exaggeration, and of aiming rather at\nrhetorical brilliancy than truth. Whole passages in his poems read like\ndeclamatory exercises turned into verse.(380) A mere hanger-on of great\nsociety, one of the obscure crowd who flocked to the rich man\u2019s lev\u00e9e, and\nknowing the life of the aristocracy only by remote observation or the\nvoice of scandalous gossip, he hardly deserves the implicit trust which\nhas been often accorded to his indictments of the society of his day. His\ngeneralisations are of the most sweeping kind; the colours are all dark.\nHe thinks that the number of decent people in his day is infinitesimally\nsmall. And yet we may reasonably suspect, from his own evidence, that he\noften generalised from single cases, that he treated abnormal specimens as\ntypes. His moral ideals cannot have been a monopoly of his own. In the\npalace of Nero in the worst days, there was a pure Octavia as well as a\nvoluptuous Poppaea. The wife and mother of the gross Vitellius were women\nof spotless fame.(381) And in reading the fierce, unmeasured declamation\nof Juvenal, we should never forget that he knew nothing personally of\nPliny or Tacitus, or of the circle which surrounded Verginius Rufus and\nSpurinna. He has the same pessimist theory of human declension which was\nheld by Seneca and by Tacitus. Every form of crime and sensuality has been\nrampant since Rome lost the treasure of poverty, since the days when\nsilver shone only on the Roman\u2019s arms.(382) Juvenal\u2019s ideal lies in that\nmythical past when a Curius, thrice consul, strode homeward from the\nhills, mattock on shoulder, to a meal of home-grown herbs and bacon served\non earthenware.(383) It is the luxury of the conquered lands which has\nrelaxed the Roman fibre, which has introduced a false standard of life,\ndegraded great houses, and flooded the city with an alien crew of\nastrologers and grammarians, parasites and pimps.\n\nModern criticism has laboured hard to correct some of the harsher\njudgments on the luxury and self-indulgence of the period of the early\nEmpire. Perhaps the scholarly reaction against an indictment which had\ndegenerated sometimes into ignorant commonplace, may have been carried\nhere and there too far. The testimony of Tacitus is explicit that the\nluxury of the table reached its height in the hundred years extending from\nthe battle of Actium to the accession of Vespasian.(384) It was a period\nof enormous fortunes spent in enormous waste. Seneca or Pallas or\nNarcissus had accumulated wealth probably three or four times greater than\neven the fortune of a Crassus or a Lucullus. The long peace, the safety of\nthe seas, and the freedom of trade, had made Rome the entrep\u00f4t for the\npeculiar products and the delicacies of every land from the British\nChannel to the Ganges. The costly variety of these foreign dainties was\nvulgarly paraded at every great dinner-party. Palaces, extending almost\nover the area of a town, were adorned with marbles from the quarries of\nParos, Laconia, Phrygia, or Numidia,(385) with gilded ceilings and curious\npanels changing with the courses of the banquet,(386) with hundreds of\ntables of citrus-wood, resting on pillars of ivory, each costing a\nmoderate fortune, with priceless bronzes and masterpieces of ancient\nplate. Nearly a million each year was drained away to the remoter East, to\npurchase aromatics and jewels for the elaborate toilette of the Roman\nlady.(387) Hundreds of household slaves, each with his minute special\nfunction, anticipated every want, or ministered to every passion of their\nmasters. Every picturesque or sheltered site on the great lakes, on the\nAnio, or the Alban hills, in the Laurentine pine forests, or on the bays\nof Campania, was occupied by far-spreading country seats. Lavish\nexpenditure and luxurious state was an imperious duty of rank, even\nwithout the precept of an emperor.(388) The senator who paid too low a\nrent, or rode along the Appian or Flaminian Way with too scanty a train,\nbecame a marked man, and immediately lost caste.(389) These are the merest\ncommonplace of the social history of the time.\n\nYet in spite of the admitted facts of profusion and self-indulgence, we\nmay decline to accept Juvenal\u2019s view of the luxury of the age without some\nreserve. It is indeed no apology for the sensuality of a section of the\nRoman aristocracy in that day, to point out that the very same excesses\nmade their appearance two centuries before him, and that they will be\nlamented both by Pagan and Christian moralists three centuries after his\ndeath. But these facts suggest a doubt whether the cancer of luxury had\nstruck so deep as satirists thought into the vitals of a society which\nremained for so many centuries erect and strong. Before the end of the\nthird century B.C., began the long series of sumptuary laws which Tiberius\ntreated as so futile.(390) The elder Pliny and Livy date the introduction\nof luxurious furniture from the return of the army in 188 B.C., after the\ncampaign in Asia.(391) Crassus, who left, after the most prodigal\nexpenditure, a fortune of \u00a31,700,000, had a town house which cost over\n\u00a360,000.(392) The lavish banquets of Lucullus were proverbial, and his\nvilla at Misenum was valued at \u00a324,000. It was an age when more than \u00a31000\nwas given for a slave-cook or a pair of silver cups.(393) Macrobius has\npreserved the menu of a pontifical banquet, at which Julius Caesar and the\nVestals were present, and which in its costly variety surpassed, as he\nsays, any epicurism of the reign of Honorius.(394) And yet Ammianus and S.\nJerome level very much the same charges against the nobles of the fourth\ncentury,(395) which satire makes against the nobles of the first. When we\nhear the same anathemas of luxury in the days of Lucullus and in the reign\nof Honorius, separated by an interval of more than five centuries, in\nwhich the Roman race stamped itself on the page of history and on the face\nof nature by the most splendid achievements of military virtue and of\ncivilising energy, we are inclined to question either the report of our\nauthorities, or the satirist\u2019s interpretation of the social facts.\n\nThe good faith of the elder Pliny, of Seneca and Juvenal, need not,\nindeed, be called in question. But the first two were men who led by\npreference an almost ascetic life. The satirist was a man whose culinary\ntastes were satisfied by the kid and eggs and asparagus of his little farm\nat Tibur.(396) And the simple abstemious habits of the south, which are\nlargely the result of climate, tended to throw into more startling\ncontrast any indulgence of superfluous appetite. It is true that the\nconquests which unlocked the hoarded treasures of eastern monarchies, gave\na great shock to the hardy frugality and self-restraint of the old Roman\ncharacter, just as the stern simplicity of Spartan breeding was imperilled\nby contact with the laxer life of the Hellespontine towns and the wealth\nof the Persian court.(397) The Roman aristocracy were for two centuries\nexposed to the same temptations as the treasures of the Incas offered to\nPizarro,(398) or the treasures of the Moguls to Clive. In the wild\nlicence, which prevailed in certain circles for more than a century, many\na fortune and many a character were wrecked. Yet the result may easily be\nexaggerated. Extravagant luxury and self-indulgence is at all times only\npossible to a comparatively small number. And luxury, after all, is a\nrelative term. The luxuries of one age often become the necessities of the\nnext. There are many articles of food or dress, which free-trade and\nscience have brought to the doors of our cottagers, which would have\nincurred the censure of the elder Pliny or of Seneca. There are aldermanic\nbanquets in New York or the city of London in our own day, which far\nsurpass, in costliness and variety, the banquets of Lucullus or the\npontiff\u2019s feast described by Macrobius. The wealth of Pallas, Narcissus,\nor Seneca, was only a fraction of many a fortune accumulated in the last\nthirty years in the United States.(399) The exaggerated idea of Roman\nriches and waste has been further heightened by the colossal extravagance\nof the worst emperors and a few of their boon companions and imitators.\nBut we are apt to forget that these were the outbreaks of morbid and\neccentric character, in which the last feeble restraints were sapped and\nswept away by the sense of having at command the resources of a world.\nNero is expressly described by the historian as a lover of the\nimpossible;(400) and both he and Caligula had floating before their\ndisordered imaginations the dream of astounding triumphs, even over the\nmost defiant forces and barriers of nature. There was much in the\nextravagance of their courtiers and imitators, springing from the same\nlove of sensation and display. Rome was a city of gossip, and the ambition\nto be talked about, as the inventor of some new freak of prodigality, was\nprobably the only ambition of the blas\u00e9 spendthrift of the time.\n\nYet, after all the deductions of scrupulous criticism, the profound moral\nsense of Juvenal has laid bare and painted with a realistic power, hardly\nequalled even by Tacitus, an unhealthy temper in the upper classes, which\nwas full of peril. He has also revealed, alongside of this decline, a\ngreat social change, we may even call it a crisis, which the historian,\ngenerally more occupied with the great figures on the stage, is apt to\nignore. The decay in the morale and wealth of the senatorial order,\ntogether with the growing power of a new moneyed class, the rise to\nopulence of the freedman and the petty trader, the invasion of Greek and\nOriental influences, and the perilous or hopeful emancipation, especially\nof women, from old Roman conventionality, these are the great facts in the\nsocial history of the first century which, under all his rhetoric, stand\nout clearly to the eye of the careful student of the satirist.\n\nThe famous piece, in which Juvenal describes an effeminate Fabius or\nLepidus, before the mutilated statues and smoke-stained pedigree of his\nhouse, rattling the dice-box till the dawn, or sunk in the stupor of\ndebauch at the hour when his ancestors were sounding their trumpets for\nthe march,(401) has, for eighteen centuries, inspired many a homily on the\nvanity of mere birth. Its moral is now a hackneyed one. But, when the\npiece was written, it must have been a powerful indictment. For the\nrespect for long descent was still deep in the true Roman, and was\ngratified by fabulous genealogies to the end. Pliny extols Trajan for\nreserving for youths of illustrious birth the honours due to their\nrace.(402) Suetonius recounts the twenty-eight consulships, five\ndictatorships, seven censorships, and many triumphs which were the glory\nof the great Claudian house,(403) and the similar honours which had been\nborne by the paternal ancestors of Nero.(404) Tacitus, although not\nhimself a man of old family, has a profound belief in noble tradition, and\nsometimes speaks with an undisguised scorn of a low alliance.(405) As the\nnumber of the \u201cTrojugenae\u201d dwindled, the pride of the vanishing remnant\nprobably grew in proportion, and a clan like the Calpurnian reluctantly\nyielded precedence even to Tiberius or Nero.(406) It is a sign of the\nsocial tone that the manufacture of genealogies for the new men, who came\ninto prominence from the reign of Vespasian, went on apace. A Trojan\ncitizen in the days of Apollonius traced himself to Priam.(407) Herodes\nAtticus claimed descent from the heroes of Aegina,(408) just as some of\nthe Christian friends of S. Jerome confidently carried their pedigree back\nto Aeneas or Agamemnon.(409) Juvenal would certainly not have accepted\nsuch fables, but he was no leveller. He had a firm belief in moral\nheredity and the value of tradition. Plebeian as he was, he had, like\nMartial, his own old Roman pride, which poured contempt on the upstarts\nwho, with the stains of servile birth or base trade upon them, were\ncrowding the benches of the knights. He would, indeed, have applauded the\n_mot_ of Tiberius, that a distinguished man was his own ancestor;(410) he\nrecalls with pride that one humble son of Arpinum had annihilated the\nhordes of the Cimbri, and another had crushed the rising of Catiline.(411)\nBut he had the true Roman reverence for the Curii, Fabii, and Scipios, and\nwould gladly salute any of their descendants who reproduced their virtues.\n\nIt is a melancholy certainty that a great many of the senatorial class in\nJuvenal\u2019s day had fallen very low in all things essential to the strength\nof a great caste. Their numbers had long been dwindling,(412) owing to\nvicious celibacy or the cruel proscriptions of the triumvirate and the\nfour Claudian Caesars, or from the unwillingness or inability of many to\nsupport the burdens of their rank. It was a rare thing in many great\nhouses to reach middle age.(413) Three hundred senators and two thousand\nknights had fallen in the proscription of the second triumvirate.(414) The\nmassacre of old and young of both sexes, which followed the fall of\nSejanus, must have extinguished many an ancient line; not a day passed\nwithout an execution.(415) Three hundred knights and thirty-five senators\nperished in the reign of Claudius.(416) Very few of the most ancient\npatrician houses were left when Claudius revised the lists of the Senate,\nand introduced a fresh element from Gaul.(417) Who can tell the numbers of\nthose who fell victims to the rage or greed or suspicion of Caligula,\nNero, and Domitian? The list must have been enormously swelled by the\nawful year of the four emperors. Vespasian found it necessary to recruit\nthe ranks of the aristocracy from Italy and the provinces.(418)\n\nAt the same time, prodigality or confiscation had rendered many of those\nwho survived unable to maintain their rank, and to bear the social and\nofficial burdens which, down to the end of the Western Empire were\nrigorously imposed on the great order. The games of the praetorship in the\nfirst century, as in the fifth,(419) constituted a tax which only a great\nfortune could easily bear. Aristocratic poverty became common. As early as\nthe reign of Augustus, the emperor had found it politic to subsidise many\ngreat families.(420) The same policy had been continued by Tiberius, Nero,\nand Vespasian.(421) Tiberius, indeed, had scrutinised and discouraged some\nof these claims on grounds which the treasury officials of every age would\napplaud.(422) A grandson of the great orator Hortensius once made an\nappeal in the Senate for the means of supporting the dignity of his name.\nHe had received a grant from Augustus to enable him to rear a family, and\nfour sons were now waiting at the doors of the Curia to second his prayer.\nHortensius, who was the great rival of Cicero, had possessed immense\nwealth. He had many splendid villas, he used to give dinners in his park,\naround which the deer would troop to the lute of a slave-Orpheus; he left\n10,000 casks of old Chian in his cellars. His mendicant and spiritless\ndescendant had to go away with a cold withering refusal from Tiberius,\nsoftened by a contemptuous dole to his sons. The revision of the\nsenatorial roll by Claudius in 48 A.D., revealed a portentous\ndisappearance of old houses of the Republic, and the gaps had to be filled\nup from the provinces in the teeth of aristocratic exclusiveness.(423)\nAmong the boon companions of Nero there must have been many loaded with\ndebt, like Otho and Vitellius. The Corvinus in Juvenal who is keeping\nsheep on a Laurentine farm, and his probable kinsman who obtained a\nsubsidy from Nero, the Fabii and Mamerci who were dancing and playing the\nharlequin on the comic stage, or selling their blood in the arena, must\nrepresent many a wreck of the great houses of the Republic.(424) Among the\nmotley crowd who swarm in the hall of the great patron to receive the\nmorning dole, the descendants of houses coeval with the Roman State are\npushed aside by the freedmen from the Euphrates.(425) But aristocratic\npoverty knew no lower depth of degradation than in the hungry adulation\nwhich it offered to the heirless rich. Captation became a regular\nprofession in a society where trade, industry, and even professional\nskill, were treated as degrading to the men of gentle blood.(426) It is\ncharacteristic of Juvenal that he places on the same level the\nlegacy-hunter, who would stoop to any menial service or vicious\ncompliance, with the honest tradesfolk, in whose ranks, if we may judge by\ntheir funerary inscriptions, was to be found, perhaps, the wholesomest\nmoral tone in the society of the early Empire.\n\nIn a satire written after Domitian\u2019s death,(427) Juvenal has described a\nscene of fatuous adulation which, if not true in fact, is only too true to\nthe character of the time. A huge mullet, too large for any private table,\nhad been caught in a bay of the Adriatic. Its captor hastens through\nwinter storms to lay his spoil at the emperor\u2019s feet. The kitchen of the\nAlban palace had no dish large enough for such a monster, and a council of\ntrembling senators is hastily summoned to consult on the emergency.\nThither came the gentle Crispus, that Acilius, whose son was to be the\nvictim of the despot\u2019s jealousy, Rubrius tainted with a nameless crime,\nthe bloated Montanus, and Crispinus, once an Egyptian slave, now a vulgar\nexquisite, reeking with unguents. There, too, was the informer whose\nwhisper stabbed like a stiletto, the lustful, blind Catullus, and the arch\nflatterer Veiento, who had revelled at the Gargantuan feasts of Nero from\nnoon till midnight. These are worthy brethren of the assembly who stabbed\nProculus to death with their stiles at the nod of the freedman of\nCaligula,(428) and led Nero home in triumphal procession after his\nmother\u2019s murder.(429)\n\nMany things had contributed to the degradation of the senatorial\ncharacter. The dark and tortuous policy of Tiberius tended, indeed, to\nabsolutism; yet he still maintained a tone of deference to the Senate, and\nsometimes, with cold good sense, repelled a too eager adulation.(430) But,\nin the reigns of Caligula and Nero, the great order had to submit to the\ndeepest personal degradation, and were tempted, or compelled by their\nmasters to violate every instinct of Roman dignity. The wild epileptic\nfrenzy of Caligula, who spared not the virtue of his sisters,(431) as he\nboasted of his own incestuous birth,(432) who claimed divine honours,(433)\ntemples, and costly sacrifices, who, as another Endymion, called the Moon\nto his embraces, who dreamt of obliterating the memory of Homer and Virgil\nand Livy, was not likely to spare the remnant of self-respect still left\nin his nobles.(434) He gave an immense impetus to the rage for singing,\ndancing, and acting,(435) for chariot-driving and fighting in the arena,\nnot unknown before, which Juvenal and Tacitus brand as the most flagrant\nsign of degenerate morals. There was indeed a great conflict of sentiment\nunder the early Empire as to some of these arts. Julius Caesar had\nencouraged or permitted Roman senators and knights to fight in the\ngladiatorial combats, and a Laberius to act in his own play.(436) But a\ndecree of the Senate, not long afterwards, had placed a ban on these\nexhibitions by men of noble rank.(437) Tiberius, who was, beyond anything,\na haughty aristocrat, at a later date intervened to save the dignity of\nthe order.(438) But the rage of the rabble for these spectacles had\nundoubtedly caught many in the ranks of the upper class. And Caligula and\nNero(439) found, only too easily, youths of birth and breeding, but ruined\nfortune, who were ready to exhibit themselves for a welcome _douceur_, or\nto gain the favour of the prince, or even to bring down the applause of\nthe crowded benches of the amphitheatre or the circus. Yet the old Roman\nfeeling must have been very persistent, when a man like Domitian, who\nposed as a puritan, found it politic to remove from the Senate one who had\ndisgraced his order by dancing in the pantomime, and even laid his\ninterdict on all public theatrical performances.(440) The revels and\nmassacres and wild debauchery of Nero did not so much to hasten his\ndestruction as his singing his catches to the lute, or appearing in the\nparts of the incestuous Canace and the matricide Orestes.(441) From every\npart of the world, in all the literature of the time, there is a chorus of\nastounded indignation against the prince who could stoop to pit himself\nagainst Greek players and singers at Delphi or Olympia. Juvenal has been\nreproached for putting the chariot-driving of Damasippus in the same\ncategory with the Verrine plunder of provinces.(442) He is really the\nexponent of old Roman sentiment. And it may be doubted whether, from the\nRoman point of view, Juvenal might not justify himself to his critics.\nEven in our own emancipated age, we might be pardoned for feeling a shock\nif an English prime minister rode his own horse at the Derby, or appeared\nin a risky part on the boards of the Gaiety. And the collective sense of\nsenatorial self-respect was too precious to a Roman patriot and moralist,\nto be flung away for mere love of sport, or in a fit of spurious artistic\nenthusiasm. Nero, and in an even lower fashion Caligula, were rebels\nagainst old Roman conventional restraints, and it is possible that some of\nthe hideous tales about them, which were spread in the \u201ccirculi,\u201d may have\nbeen the vengeance of Roman pride on shameless social revolutionaries, who\nparaded their contempt for old-fashioned dignity and for social tradition.\nNero was never so happy as when he was deafened with applause, and\nsmothered with roses at the Greek festivals. He had once predicted for him\na monarchy in those regions of the East,(443) where he would have escaped\nfrom the tradition of old Roman puritanism, and combined all the ingenious\nsensuality of Syria with the doubtful artistic taste of a decadent\nHellenism. The cold haughty refinement of senatorial circles of the old\nr\u00e9gime, and the rude honest virtue of the plebeian soldiery,(444) rightly\nmistrusted this false sensational artist on the throne of the world.\n\nArt, divorced from moral ideals, may become a dangerous thing. The emperor\nmight spend the morning with his favourites in patching up lilting verses\nwhich would run well to the lute.(445) But the scene soon changed to a\nrevel, where the roses and music hardly veiled the grossness of excess.\nThe \u201cnoctes Neronis\u201d made many a debauchee and scattered many a senatorial\nfortune.(446) And amid all this elaborate luxury and splendour of\nindulgence, there was a strange return to the naturalism of vice and mere\nblackguardism. A Messalina or a Nero or a Petronius developed a curious\ntaste for the low life that reeks and festers in the taverns and in the\nstews. Bohemianism for a time became the fashion.(447) Its very grossness\nwas a stimulant to appetites jaded with every diabolical refinement of\nvicious ingenuity. The distinguished dinner party, with the emperor at\ntheir head, sallied forth to see how the people were living in the slums.\nMany a scene from these midnight rambles has probably been preserved in\nthe tainted, yet brilliant, pages of the _Satiricon_. Petronius had\nprobably often plunged with Nero after night-fall into those low dens,\nwhere slave minions and sailors and the obscene priests of the great\nMother were roistering together, or sunk in the slumber of debauch.(448)\nThese elegant aristocrats found their sport in rudely assaulting quiet\ncitizens returning from dinner, or plundering some poor huckster\u2019s stall\nin the Suburra, or insulting a lady in her chair. In the fierce faction\nfights of the theatre, where stones and benches were flying, the Emperor\nhad once the distinction of breaking a praetor\u2019s head.(449) It was nobles\ntrained in this school, experts in vice, but with no nerve for arms, who\nencumbered the train of Otho on his march to the sanguinary conflict on\nthe Po.(450)\n\nThe demoralisation of a section of the upper class under the bad emperors\nmust have certainly involved the degradation of many women. And one of the\nmost brilliant and famous of Juvenal\u2019s Satires is devoted to this\nunsavoury subject. The \u201cLegend of Bad Women\u201d is a graphic picture, and yet\nit suffers from a defect which spoils much of Juvenal\u2019s work. Full of\nrealistic power, with an undoubted foundation of truth, it is too vehement\nand sweeping in its censures to gain full credence. It is also strangely\nwanting in balance and due order of idea.(451) The problem of marriage is\nillustrated by a series of sketches of female manners, which are very\ndisconnected, and, indeed, sometimes inconsistent. Thorough depravity,\nsuperstition, and ignorant devotion, interest in literature and public\naffairs, love of gymnastic and decided opinions on Virgil\u2014in fact, vices,\ninnocent hobbies, and laudable tastes are all thrown together in a\nconfused indictment. The bohemian man of letters had heard many a scandal\nabout great ladies, some of them true, others distorted and exaggerated by\nprurient gossip, after passing through a hundred tainted imaginations. In\nhis own modest class, female morality, as we may infer from the\nInscriptions and other sources, was probably as high as it ever was, as\nhigh as the average morality of any age.(452) There were aristocratic\nfamilies, too, where the women were as pure as Lucretia or Cornelia, or\nany matron of the olden days.(453) The ideal of purity, both in men and\nwomen, in some circles was actually rising. In the families of Seneca, of\nTacitus, of Pliny and Plutarch, there were, not only the most spotless and\nhigh minded women, there were also men with a rare conception of\ntemperance and mutual love, of reverence for a pure wedlock, to which S.\nJerome and S. Augustine would have given their benediction. Even Ovid,\nthat \u201cdebauchee of the imagination,\u201d writes to his wife, from his exile in\nthe Scythian wilds, in the accents of the purest affection.(454) And, amid\nall the lubricity of his pictures of gallantry, he has not lost the ideal\nof a virgin heart, which repels and disarms the libertine by the spell of\nan impregnable purity.(455) Plutarch\u2019s ideal of marriage, at once severe\nand tender, would have satisfied S. Paul.(456) Favorinus, the friend and\ncontemporary of Plutarch, thought it not beneath the dignity of\nphilosophic eloquence to urge on mothers the duty of suckling and\npersonally caring for their infants.(457) Seneca and Musonius, who lived\nthrough the reign of Nero, are equally peremptory in demanding a like\ncontinence from men and from women. And Musonius severely condemns\nconcubinage and vagrant amours of every kind, the man guilty of seduction\nsins not only against another, but against his own soul.(458) Dion\nChrysostom was probably the first of the ancients to raise a clear voice\nagainst the traffic in frail beauty which has gone on pitilessly from age\nto age. Nothing could exceed the vehemence with which he assails an evil\nwhich he regards as not only dishonouring to human nature, but charged\nwith the poison of far spreading corruption.(459) Juvenal\u2019s ideal of\npurity, therefore, is not peculiar to himself. The great world was bad\nenough, but there was another world beside that whose infamy Juvenal has\nimmortalised.\n\nIt is also to be observed that Juvenal seems to be quite as much under the\ninfluence of old Roman conventionality as of permanent moral ideals. He\ncondemns eccentricities, or mere harmless aberrations from old-fashioned\nrules of propriety, as ruthlessly as he punishes lust and crime. The\nblue-stocking who is a purist in style, and who balances, with deafening\nvolubility, the merits of Homer and Virgil,(460) the eager gossip who has\nthe very freshest news from Thrace or Parthia, or the latest secret of a\ntainted family,(461) the virago who, with an intolerable pride of virtue,\nplays the household tyrant and delivers curtain lectures to her lord,(462)\nseem to be almost as detestable in Juvenal\u2019s eyes as the doubtful person\nwho has had eight husbands in five years, or one who elopes with an ugly\ngladiator,(463) or tosses off two pints before dinner.(464) We may share\nhis disgust for the great ladies who fought in the arena and wrestled in\nthe ring,(465) or who order their poor tire-women to be flogged for\nderanging a curl in the towering architecture of their hair.(466) But we\ncannot feel all his contempt for the poor penitent devotee of Isis who\nbroke the ice to plunge thrice in the Tiber on a winter morning, and\ncrawled on bleeding knees over the Campus Martius, or brought a phial of\nwater from the Nile to sprinkle in the fane of the goddess.(467) Even\nlust, grossness, and cruelty, even poisoning and abortion, seem to lose\nsome of their blackness when they are compared with an innocent literary\nvanity, or a pathetic eagerness to read the future or to soothe the pangs\nof a guilty conscience.\n\nThe truth is that Juvenal is as much shocked by the \u201cnew woman\u201d as he is\nby the vicious woman. He did not understand, or he could not acquiesce in\nthe great movement for the emancipation of women, which had set in long\nbefore his time, and which, like all such movements, brought evil with it\nas well as good. There is perhaps nothing more striking in the social\nhistory of Rome than the inveterate conservatism of Roman sentiment in the\nface of accomplished change. Such moral rigidity is almost necessarily\nprone to pessimism. The Golden Age lies in the past; the onward sweep of\nsociety seems to be always moving towards the abyss. The ideal past of the\nRoman woman lay more than two centuries and a half behind the time when\nJuvenal was born. The old Roman matron was, by legal theory, in the power\nof her husband, yet assured by religion and sentiment a dignified position\nin the family, and treated with profound, if somewhat cold, respect; she\nwas busied with household cares, and wanting in the lighter graces and\ncharms, austere, self-contained, and self-controlled. But this severe\nideal had begun to fade even in the days of the elder Cato.(468) And there\nis hardly a fault or vice attributed by Juvenal to the women of Domitian\u2019s\nreign, which may not find parallel in the nine or ten generations before\nJuvenal penned his great indictment against the womanhood of his age. The\nRoman lady\u2019s irritable pride of birth is at least as old as the rivalry of\nthe two Fabiae in the fourth century.(469) The elder Cato dreaded a rich\nwife as much as Juvenal,(470) and satirised as bitterly the pride and\ngossip and luxury of the women of his time. Their love of gems and gold\nornaments and many-coloured robes and richly adorned carriages, is\nattested by Plautus and the impotent legislation of C. Oppius.(471)\nDivorce and ghastly crime in the noblest families were becoming common in\nthe days of the Second Punic War. About the same time began that\nemancipation of women from the jealous restraints of Roman law, which was\nto be carried further in the Antonine age.(472) The strict forms of\nmarriage, which placed the wife in the power of her husband, fell more and\nmore into desuetude. Women attained more absolute control over their\nproperty, and so much capital became concentrated in their hands that,\nabout the middle of the second century B.C., the Voconian law was passed\nto prohibit bequests to them, with the usual futile result of such\nlegislation.(473) Yet the old ideal of the industrious housewife never\ndied out, and Roman epitaphs for ages record that the model matron was a\nwool-worker and a keeper at home. A senator of the reign of Honorius\npraises his daughter for the same homely virtues.(474) But from the second\ncentury B.C. the education of the Roman girl of the higher classes\nunderwent a great change.(475) Dancing, music, and the higher\naccomplishments were no longer under a ban, although they were still\nsuspected by people of the old-fashioned school. Boys and girls received\nthe same training from the grammarian, and read their Homer and Ennius\ntogether.(476) There were women in the time of Lucretius, as in the time\nof Juvenal, who interlarded their conversation with Greek phrases.(477)\nCornelia, the wife of Pompey, was trained in literature and mathematics,\nand even had some tincture of philosophy.(478) The daughter of Atticus,\nwho became the wife of Agrippa, was placed under the tuition of a\nfreedman, who, as too often happened, seems to have abused his trust.(479)\nEven in the gay circle of Ovid, there were learned ladies, or ladies who\nwished to be thought so.(480) Even Martial reckons culture among the\ncharms of a woman. Seneca maintained that women have an equal capacity for\ncultivation with men.(481) Thus the blue-stocking of Juvenal, for whom he\nhas so much contempt, had many an ancestress for three centuries, as she\nwill have many a daughter till the end of the Western Empire.(482) Even in\nphilosophy, usually the last study to attract the female mind, Roman\nladies were asserting an equal interest. Great ladies of the Augustan\ncourt, even the empress herself, had their philosophic directors,(483) and\nthe fashion perhaps became still more general under M. Aurelius. Epictetus\nhad met ladies who were enthusiastic admirers of the Platonic Utopia, but\nthe philosopher rather slyly attributes their enthusiasm to the absence of\nrigorous conjugal relations in the Ideal Society.(484) Even in the field\nof authorship, women were claiming equal rights. The _Memoirs of\nAgrippina_ was one of the authorities of Tacitus.(485) The poems of\nSulpicia, mentioned by Martial,(486) were read in Gaul in the days of\nSidonius.(487) Greek verses, of some merit in spite of a pedantic\naffectation, by Balbilla, a friend of the wife of Hadrian, can still be\nread on the Colossus of Memnon.(488) Calpurnia, the wife of Pliny, may not\nhave been an author; but she shared all Pliny\u2019s literary tastes; she set\nhis poems to music, and gave him the admiration of a good wife, if not of\nan impartial critic.\n\nJuvenal feels as much scorn for the woman who is interested in public\naffairs and the events on the frontier,(489) as he feels for the woman who\npresumes to balance the merits of Virgil and Homer. And here he is once\nmore at war with a great movement towards the equality of the sexes. From\nthe days of Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi, to the days of Placidia,\nthe sister of Honorius, Roman women exercised, from time to time, a\npowerful, and not always wholesome, influence on public affairs. The\npolitic Augustus discussed high matters of state with Livia.(490) The\nreign of Claudius was a reign of women and freedmen. Tacitus records, with\na certain distaste for the innovation, that Agrippina sat enthroned beside\nClaudius on a lofty tribunal, to receive the homage of the captive\nCaractacus.(491) Nero emancipated himself from the grasping ambition of\nhis mother only by a ghastly crime. The influence of Caenis on Vespasian\nin his later days tarnished his fame.(492) The influence of women in\nprovincial administration was also becoming a serious force. In the reign\nof Tiberius, Caecina Severus, with the weight of forty years\u2019 experience\nof camps, in a speech before the Senate, denounced the new-fangled custom\nof the wives of generals and governors accompanying them abroad, attending\nreviews of troops, mingling freely with the soldiers, and taking an active\npart in business, which was not always favourable to pure\nadministration.(493) In the inscriptions of the first and second\ncenturies, women appear in a more wholesome character as \u201cmothers of the\ncamp,\u201d or patronesses of municipal towns and corporations.(494) They have\nstatues dedicated to them for liberality in erecting porticoes or adorning\ntheatres or providing civic games or feasts.(495) And on one of these\ntablets we read of a _Curia mulierum_ at Lanuvium.(496) We are reminded of\nthe \u201cchapter of matrons\u201d who visited Agrippina with their censure,(497)\nand another female senate, under Elagabalus, which dealt with minute\nquestions of precedence and graded etiquette.(498) On the walls of Pompeii\nfemale admirers posted up their election placards in support of their\nfavourite candidates.(499) Thus Juvenal was fighting a lost battle, lost\nlong before he wrote. For good or evil, women in the first and second\ncenturies were making themselves a power.\n\nAlthough he was probably a very light believer in the old mythology,(500)\nand treated its greatest figures with scant respect, Juvenal had all the\nold Roman prejudice against those eastern worships which captivated so\nmany women of his day. And, here again, the satirist is assailing a\nmovement which had set in long before he wrote, and which was destined to\ngain immense impetus and popularity in the two following centuries. The\neunuch priests of the Great Mother, with their cymbals and Phrygian\ntiaras, had appeared in Italy in the last years of the Hannibalic\nWar.(501) The early years of the second century B.C. were convulsed by the\nscandals and horrors of the Dionysiac orgies, which fell on Rome like a\npestilence.(502) The purity of women and the peace of families were in\nserious danger, till the mischief was stamped out in blood. The worship of\nIsis found its way into the capital at least as early as Sulla, and defied\nthe hesitating exclusion of Augustus.(503) At this distance, we can see\nthe _raison d\u2019\u00eatre_ of what the satirist regarded as religious\naberrations, the full treatment of which must be reserved for another\nchapter. The world was in the throes of a religious revolution, and\neagerly in quest of some fresh vision of the Divine, from whatever quarter\nit might dawn. The cults of the East seemed to satisfy cravings and\nemotions, which found no resting-place in the national religion. Their\nritual appealed to the senses and imagination, while their mysteries\nseemed to promise a revelation of God and immortality. Their strange\nmixture of the sensuous and the ascetic was specially adapted to fascinate\nweak women who had deeply sinned, and yet occasionally longed to repent.\nThe repentance indeed was often shallow enough; the fasting and\nmortification were compatible with very light morals.(504) There were the\ngravest moral abuses connected with such worships as that of Magna Mater.\nIt is well known that the temples of Isis often became places of\nassignation and guilty intrigue.(505) An infatuated Roman lady in the\nreign of Tiberius had been seduced by her lover in the pretended guise of\nthe god Anubis.(506) The Chaldaean seer or the Jewish hag might often\narouse dangerous hopes, or fan a guilty passion by casting a horoscope or\nreading a dream.(507) But Juvenal\u2019s scorn seems to fall quite as heavily\non the innocent votary who was striving to appease a burdened conscience,\nas on one who made her superstition a screen for vice.\n\nIn spite of the political extinction of the Jewish race, its numbers and\ninfluence grew in Italy. The very destruction of the Holy Place and the\nexternal symbols of Jewish worship threw a more impressive air of mystery\naround the dogmas of the Jewish faith, of which even the most cultivated\nRomans had only vague conceptions.(508) The Jews, from the time of the\nfirst Caesar, had worked their way into every class of society.(509) A\nJewish prince had inspired Caligula with an oriental ideal of\nmonarchy.(510) There were adherents of Judaism in the household of the\ngreat freedmen of Claudius, and their growing influence and turbulence\ncompelled that emperor to expel the race from the capital.(511) The\nworldly, pleasure-loving Poppaea had, perhaps, yielded to the mysterious\ncharm of the religion of Moses.(512) But it was under the Flavians, who\nhad such close associations with Judaea, that Jewish influences made\nthemselves most felt. And in the reign of Domitian, two members of the\nimperial house, along with many others, suffered for following the Jewish\nmode of life.(513) Their crime is also described as \u201catheism,\u201d and Clemens\nis, in the old Roman spirit, said to have been a man of the most\n\u201ccontemptible inactivity.\u201d In truth, the \u201cJewish life\u201d was a description\nwhich might cover many shades of belief and practice in religion,\nincluding Christianity itself. The secret worship of a dim, mysterious\nPower, Who was honoured by no imposing rites, a spirit of detachment and\nquietism, which shrank from games and spectacles and the scenes of\nfashion, and nursed the dream of a coming kingdom which was not of this\nworld, excited the suspicion and contempt of the coarse, strenuous Roman\nnature. Yet, in the gloom and deep corruption of that sombre time, such a\nlife of retreat and renunciation had a strange charm for naturally pious\nsouls, especially among women. There were indeed many degrees of\nconformity to the religion of Palestine. While some were attracted by its\nmore spiritual side, others confined themselves to an observance of the\nSabbath, which became very common in some quarters of Rome under the\nEmpire. The children, as Juvenal tells us, were sometimes trained to a\ncomplete conformity to the law of Moses.(514) But Juvenal is chiefly\nthinking of the mendicant population from Palestine who swarmed in the\nneighbourhood of the Porta Capena and the grove of the Muses, practising\nall the arts which have appealed in all ages to superstitious women. Thus\nthe Judaism of the times of Nero or Domitian might cover anything from the\ncunning of the gipsy fortune-teller to the sad, dreaming quietism of\nPomponia Graecina.(515)\n\nYet it must be admitted that, although Juvenal, in his attacks on women,\nhas mixed up very real vice with superstition and mere innocent\neccentricity, or the explosive energy of a new freedom, the real vices of\nmany women of his time are a melancholy fact. The Messalinas and Poppaeas\nhad many imitators and companions in their own class. It is true that even\nthe licentious fancy of Ovid and Martial generally spares the character of\nthe unmarried girl. She was, in the darkest times, as a rule, carefully\nguarded from the worst corruptions of the spectacles,(516) or from the\nreckless advances of the hardened libertine, although an intrigue with a\ntutor was not unknown.(517) Her marriage was arranged often in mere\nchildhood, seldom later than her seventeenth year. A girl was rarely\nbetrothed after nineteen.(518) Her temptations and danger often began on\nher wedding-day. That there was a high ideal of pure and happy marriage,\neven in the times of the greatest licence, we know from Pliny and\nPlutarch, and from Martial himself.(519) But there were serious perils\nbefore the child-bride, when she was launched upon the great world of\nRoman society. A marriage of convenience with some member of a tainted\nrace, _blas\u00e9_ with precocious and unnatural indulgence, and ready to\nconcede the conjugal liberty which he claimed, was a perilous trial to\nvirtue. The bonds of old Roman marriage had, for ages, been greatly\nrelaxed, and the Roman lady of independent fortune and vigorous, highly\ntrained intellect, could easily find consolation for marital neglect. From\nSeneca to S. Jerome, the foppish procurator of the great lady was a\ndangerous and suspected person,(520) and not always without good cause.\nSurrounded by an army of slaves and the other obsequious dependents of a\ngreat house, treated with profound deference, and saluted with the pompous\ntitles of _domina_ and _regina_, the great lady\u2019s lightest caprice became\nlaw.(521) Costly jewels and the rarest luxuries of the toilet poured in\nupon her from regions which were only visited by the captains of Red Sea\nmerchantmen, or by some Pythagorean ascetic seeking the fountains of the\nwisdom of the East.(522)\n\nThe political life of Rome had been extinguished by a jealous despotism,\nbut social life in the higher ranks was never so intense and so seductive,\nand women had their full share in it. Ladies dined out regularly with\ntheir husbands, even at the emperor\u2019s table,(523) and they were liable to\nbe assailed by the artistic wiles of which Ovid taught the secret, or by\nthe brutal advances of the lawless Caligula.(524) It was a time when\npeople loved to meet anywhere, under the trees of the Campus Martius, in\nthe colonnades of the theatre, or round the seats of the public squares.\nEverywhere were to be seen those groups which spared no reputation, not\neven the emperor\u2019s. And behind the chair of the young matron often hovered\nthe dangerous exquisite, who could hum in a whisper the latest suggestive\nsong from Alexandria or Gades,(525) who knew the pedigree of every\nracehorse and the secret of every intrigue. It is at such scenes that\nTacitus is probably glancing when he says that in Germany no one makes a\njest of vice, or calls the art of corruption the fashion of the\nworld;(526) chastity is not sapped by the seductions of the spectacles.\nAugustus had, indeed, set apart the upper seats for women in the theatre\nand amphitheatre,(527) but on the benches of the circus the sexes freely\nmingled. It was there, while the factions of the red and blue were\nshouting themselves hoarse, Ovid pointed out to his pupil in gallantry,\nthat he had his fairest chance of making a dangerous impression.(528) Yet\neven Ovid is half inclined to be shocked at the scenes on the stage which\nwere witnessed by women and young boys.(529) The foulest tales of the old\nmythology, the loves of Pasiphae or the loves of Leda, were enacted to the\nlife, or told with a nakedness of language, compared with which even\nMartial might seem chaste.(530) Not less degrading were the gladiatorial\nshows, so lavishly provided by Augustus and Trajan, as well as by Caligula\nand Domitian, at which the Vestals had a place of honour.(531) It is\nlittle wonder that women accustomed to take pleasure in the sufferings and\ndeath of brave men, should be capable of condemning their poor slave women\nto torture or the lash for a sullen look, or a half-heard murmur. The\ngrossness with which Juvenal describes the effect of the stage on the\nmorals of women savours of the Suburra.(532) But of the poisonous\ncharacter of these performances there can be no doubt. And actors,\nmusicians, and gladiators became a danger to the peace of households, as\nwell as to the peace of the streets. The artistes of the pantomime were\nsternly suppressed both by Tiberius and Domitian, and not without good\ncause.(533) One famous dancer had the fatal honour of captivating\nMessalina.(534) The empress of Domitian was divorced for her love of\nParis.(535) And the scandals which darkened the fame of the younger\nFaustina, and impeached the legitimacy of Commodus, even if they were\nfalse, must have rested on a certain ground of probability.(536) It is\nmelancholy to hear that M. Aurelius had to restrain the excesses of Roman\nmatrons even under the reign of the philosophers.(537) To all these perils\nmust be added the allurements of household slavery. While a Musonius or a\nSeneca was demanding equal chastity in man and woman, the new woman of\nJuvenal boldly claims a vicious freedom equal to her husband\u2019s.(538) The\ntestimony of Petronius is tainted by a suspicion of prurient imagination.\nBut the student of other sources can hardly doubt that, in the first\ncentury, as in the fourth, the Roman lady of rank sometimes degraded\nherself by a servile _liaison_. A decree of Vespasian\u2019s reign, which his\nbiographer tells us was called for by the general licence, punished the\nerring matron with the loss of her rank.(539)\n\nThese illustrations from other authorities may serve towards a judicial\nestimate of Juvenal\u2019s famous satire on women. That it is not a prurient\ninvention is proved by the pages of Tacitus and Suetonius and the records\nof Roman morals for more than two centuries. On the other hand, it must be\nread with some reservations. Juvenal is a rhetorician with a fiery\ntemperament, who will colour and exaggerate, if he will not invent. He is\nintensely prejudiced and conventional, a man to whom desertion of ancient\nusage is almost as bad as a breach of the moral law, a man incapable of\nseeing that the evils of a new social movement may be more than\ncompensated by the good which it brings. Moreover, the graver vices which\nhe depicts with so much realistic power were certainly not so general as\nhe implies. It is to be suspected that single instances of abnormal\ndepravity have swelled in his heated imagination till they have become\ntypes of whole classes of sinners. At the worst, these vices infected only\na comparatively small class, idle, luxurious, enervated by the slave\nsystem, depraved by the example of a vicious court. The very scorn and\nindignation with which Juvenal pillories the aristocratic debauchee reveal\nthe existence of a higher standard of virtue. Both the literature and the\ninscriptions of that age make us acquainted with a very different kind of\nwoman. Over against the Hippia or Saufeia or Messalina of Juvenal we must\nset the pure and cultivated women whom we meet in the pages of Pliny or\nTacitus, or the poor soldier\u2019s concubine in the Inscriptions, who has all\nthe self-denying love and virtue of our own cottagers\u2019 wives.(540)\n\nJust as Juvenal misunderstood the movement of female emancipation, which\nwas to culminate in the legislation of the Antonine age, so has he\nmisconceived some other great social movements of his time. Two in\nparticular, the invasion of the new Hellenism and the rise of the\nFreedmen, he anathematises with the scorn and old Roman prejudice of the\nelder Cato.\n\nThere was nothing new in the invasion of Hellenism in the time of Juvenal.\nNearly three hundred years before his day, the narrow conservatism of\nancient Rome was assailed by the cosmopolitan culture of Hellas, which it\nalternately hated and admired. The knowledge of Greek was widely diffused\nin Italy in the time of the Hannibalic war.(541) Almost the last Roman of\nthe ancient breed stooped in his old age to learn Greek, in order to train\nhis son in the culture of the world.(542) But there were two different\naspects of Hellenism. There was the Hellenism represented by Homer and\nPlato and Chrysippus; and there was the Hellenism of the low comic stage,\nof the pimp and parasite. And there were reactions against the lower Greek\ninfluences long before the days of Juvenal. Cicero, who did more than any\nman of his race to translate Greek thought into Roman idiom, yet expressed\nas bitter a contempt as Juvenal\u2019s for the fickle, supple, histrionic Greek\nadventurer.(543) Juvenal is not waging war with that nobler Hellenism\nwhich had furnished models and inspiration to the great writers of the\nAugustan age, and which was destined to refashion Italian culture in the\ngeneration following his death. The emperors, from Julius Caesar to M.\nAurelius, were, with few exceptions, trained in the literature of Greece,\nand some of them gave a great impetus to Greek culture in the West.\nAugustus delighted in the Old Comedy, entertained Greek philosophers in\nhis house, and sprinkled his private letters to Tiberius with Greek\nquotations.(544) Tiberius, although he had lived at Rhodes in his youth,\nseems to show less sympathy for the genius of Greece.(545) Caligula also\ncan hardly be claimed as a Hellenist. Although he had once a wild dream of\nrestoring the palace of Polycrates, and one, more sane, of a canal through\nthe Corinthian Isthmus, he also thought of wiping out the memory of the\npoems of Homer.(546) Dr. Mahaffy is probably right in treating Claudius as\nthe first really Hellenist emperor.(547) Like our own James I., Claudius\nwas a learned and very ludicrous person. Yet he was perhaps not so\ncontemptible a character as he is painted by Suetonius. He had, at any\nrate, the merit of being a lover of Greek literature,(548) and he heaped\nhonour on the country which gave it birth.(549) He used to quote Homer in\nhis speeches in the Senate, and he composed histories in the Greek\nlanguage, which, by an imperial ordinance, were to be read aloud regularly\nin the Museum of Alexandria.(550) In spite of the vices and pompous\nfollies of Nero, his phil-Hellenism seems to have been a genuine and\ncreditable impulse. His visits to the Greek festivals, and his share in\nthe competitions, were not all mere vanity. He had a futile passion for\nfame as an artist, and he sought the applause of the race which had a real\nartistic tradition.(551) When we reach the plebeian Flavian race,\nHellenism is still favoured. The bluff soldier, Vespasian, had an adequate\ncommand of the Greek language, and was the first emperor who gave liberal\nendowments to Greek rhetoric.(552) His son Domitian, that puzzling enigma,\nthe libertine who tried to revive the morality of the age of Cato, the man\nwho was said, but most improbably, to confine his reading to the memoirs\nof Tiberius, founded a quinquennial festival, with competitions, on the\nGreek model, in music, gymnastic, and horsemanship. By drawing on the\ninexhaustible stores of Alexandria, he also repaired the havoc which had\nbeen wrought in the Roman libraries by fire.(553) Already in Juvenal\u2019s\nlife the brilliant sophistic movement had set in which was destined to\ncarry the literary charm of Hellenism throughout the West. From the close\nof the first century there appeared in its full bloom that ingenious\ntechnique of style, that power of conquering all the difficulties of a\nworn-out or trifling subject, that delicate command of all varieties of\nrhythm, which carried the travelling sophist through a series of triumphs\nwherever he wandered. Classical Latin literature about the same time came\nto a mysterious end. The only authors of any merit in the second century\nwrote in both languages indifferently.(554) And the great Emperor, who\ncloses our period, preferred to leave his inner thoughts to posterity in\nGreek.\n\nJuvenal, however, was not thinking of this great literary movement. Like\nso many of his literary predecessors, who had been formed by the loftier\ngenius of the Greek past, like Plautus and Cicero, he vented his rage on a\ndegenerate Hellenism. His shafts were levelled at the suttlers and\ncamp-followers of the invading army from the East. The phenomena of Roman\nsocial history are constantly repeating themselves for centuries. And one\nof the most curious examples of perpetuity of social sentiment is the\nhatred and scorn for the Greek or Levantine character, from the days of\nPlautus and the elder Cato to the days of the poet Claudian.(555) For more\nthan 600 years, the Roman who had borrowed his best culture, his polish\nand ideas from the Greek, was ready to sneer at the \u201cGreekling.\u201d The\nconquerors of Macedon could never forgive their own conquest by Greek\nknowledge and versatility, by which old Roman victories in the field had\nbeen avenged. And, as the pride of the imperial race grew with the\nconsciousness of great achievements, the political degradation and\neconomic decay of Greece and Greek-speaking lands produced a type of\ncharacter which combined the old cleverness and keenness of intellect with\nthe moral defects of an impoverished and subject race. Something of Roman\ncontempt for the Greek must be set down to that national prejudice and\ndifference of temperament, which made our ancestors treat the great French\nnation, with all its brilliant gifts and immense contributions to European\nculture, as a race of posturing dancing-masters.(556) Such prejudices are\ngenerally more intense in the lower than in the upper and the cultivated\nclasses. Juvenal, indeed, was a cultivated man, who knew Greek literature,\nand had been formed by Greek rhetors in the schools. But he was also a\nRoman plebeian, with that pride of race which is often as deep in the\nplebeian as in the aristocrat. He gives voice to the feeling of his class\nwhen he indignantly laments that the true-born Roman, whose infancy has\ndrunk in the air of the Aventine, should have to yield place to the\nsupple, fawning stranger, who has come with the same wind as the figs and\nprunes. The Orontes is pouring its pollutions into the Tiber.(557) Every\ntrade and profession, from the master of the highest studies down to the\nrope-dancer and the pander, is crowded with hungry, keen-witted\nadventurers from the East. Every island of the Aegean, every city of Asia,\nis flooding Rome with its vices and its venal arts.(558) Quickness of\nintellect and depravity of morals, the brazen front and the ready tongue\nare driving into the shade the simple, unsophisticated honesty of the old\nRoman breed. At the morning receptions of the great patron, the poor Roman\nclient, who has years of honest, quiet service to show, even the\nimpoverished scion of an ancient consular line, are pushed aside by some\nsycophant from the Euphrates,(559) who can hardly conceal the brand of\nrecent servitude upon him. These men, by their smooth speech, their\neffrontery and ready wit, their infinite capacity for assuming every mood\nand humouring every caprice of the patron, are creeping into the recesses\nof great houses, worming out their secrets, and mastering their\nvirtue.(560) Rome is becoming a Greek town,(561) in which there will soon\nbe no place for Romans.\n\nMuch of this indictment, as we have said, is the offspring of prejudice\nand temperament. But there was a foundation of truth under the declamation\nof Juvenal. The higher education of Roman youth had for generations been\nchiefly in the hands of men of Greek culture, from the days of Ennius and\nCrates of Mallus, before the third Punic War.(562) The tutor\u2019s old title\n_literatus_ had early given place to that of _grammaticus_.(563) And, of\nthe long line of famous _grammatici_ commemorated by Suetonius, there are\nfew who were not by origin or culture connected with the Greek east. Most\nof them had been freedmen of savants or great nobles.(564) Some had\nactually been bought in the slave market.(565) The profession was\ngenerally ill-paid and enjoyed little consideration, and it was often the\nlast resort of those who had failed in other and not more distinguished\ncallings. Orbilius, the master of Horace, had been an attendant in a\npublic office.(566) Others had been pugilists or low actors in\npantomime.(567) Q. Remmius Palaemon, whose vices made him infamous in the\nreign of Tiberius and Claudius, had been a house-slave, and was originally\na weaver.(568) He educated himself while attending his young master at\nschool, and by readiness, versatility, and arrogant self-assertion, rose\nto an income of more than \u00a34000 a year. Sometimes they attained to rank\nand fortune by being entrusted with the tuition of the imperial\nchildren.(569) But the grammarian, to the very end, as a rule never\nescaped the double stigma of doubtful origin and of poverty.\n\nThe medical profession, according to the elder Pliny, was a Greek art\nwhich was seldom practised by Romans.(570) Julius Caesar, by giving civic\nrights to physicians from Egypt and Hellenic lands,(571) while he raised\nthe status of the medical calling, also stimulated the immigration of\nforeign practitioners. The rank and fortune attained by the court\nphysicians of the early Caesars, Antonius Musa, the Stertinii,(572) and\nothers, which almost rivalled the medical successes of our own day, seemed\nto offer a splendid prize. Yet the profession was generally in low\nrepute.(573) It was long recruited from the ranks of old slaves, and men\nof the meanest callings. Carpenters and smiths and undertakers flocked\ninto it, often with only a training of six months.(574) Galen found most\nof his medical brethren utterly illiterate, and recommends them to pay a\nlittle attention to grammar in dealing with their patients.(575) They\ncompounded in their own shops, and touted for practice.(576) They called\nin the aid of spells and witchcraft to reinforce their drugs. We need not\nbelieve all the coarse insinuations of Martial against their morality, any\nmore than the sneers of Petronius against their skill. But we are bound to\nconclude that the profession held a very different place in public esteem\nfrom that which it enjoys and deserves in our own time.\n\nAstrology, which was the aristocratic form of divination, and involved in\nmany a dark intrigue of the early Empire, was a Greek as well as a\nChaldaean art. The name of the practitioner often reveals his nationality.\nThe Seleucus(577) and Ptolemaeus who affected to guide the fate of Otho,\nand the Ascletarion of Domitian\u2019s reign,(578) are only representatives of\na nameless crowd. And their strange power is seen in that tale of a Greek\ndiviner, Pammenes, in the last years of Nero, whose horoscopes led to the\ntragic end of P. Anteius and Ostorius Scapula.(579) In other countless\narts of doubtful repute, which ministered to the pleasure or amusement of\nthe crowd, the Greek was always an adept. But it was his success as a\ncourtier and accomplished flatterer of the great, which chiefly roused the\nscornful hatred of Juvenal and his fellows. The \u201cadulandi gens\nprudentissima,\u201d would hardly have been guilty of the simple and obvious\ngrossness of flattery which the rhetoric of Juvenal attributes to\nthem.(580) They knew their trade better than the Roman plebeian. It was an\nold and highly rewarded profession in Greece, and had often been the theme\nof Greek moralists. Plutarch wrote an elaborate treatise on the difference\nbetween the sycophant and the true friend, in which he seems almost to\nexhaust the wily resources of the pretender. Lucian, with his delicate\nirony, seems almost to raise the Greek skill in adulation to the level of\na fine art.(581) And the polished and versatile Greek, with his lively\nwit, his delicate command of expression, his cool audacity, and his\nunscrupulousness, was a formidable rival of the coarser Roman parasite\ncelebrated in Latin comedy. We can well imagine that the young Greek,\nfresh from the schools of Ionia, was a livelier companion at dinner than\nthe proud Roman man of letters who snatched the dole and disdained himself\nfor receiving it.\n\nThere is perhaps no phase of Roman society in Domitian\u2019s day which we know\nmore intimately than the life of the client. It is photographed, in all\nits sordid slavery, by both Juvenal and Martial. And Martial himself is\nperhaps the best example of a man of genius submitting, with occasional\nintervals of proud rebellion,(582) to a degradation which in our eyes no\npoverty could excuse. The client of the early Empire was a totally\ndifferent person from the client of Republican times. In the days of\nfreedom, the tie of patron and client was rather that of clansman and\nchief; it was justified by political and social necessity, and ennobled by\nfeelings of loyalty and mutual obligation. Under the Empire, the relation\nwas tainted by the selfish materialism of the age; it had seldom any trace\nof sentiment. The rich man was expected to have a humble train of\ndependents to maintain his rank and consequence. There was a host of needy\npeople ready to do him such service. The hungry client rushed to his\npatron\u2019s morning reception, submitted to all his coldness and caprice, or\nto the insolence of his menials, followed his chair through the streets,\nand ran on his errands, for the sake of a miserable alms in money or in\nkind.(583) The payment was sometimes supplemented by a cast-off cloak, or\nan invitation at the last moment to fill a place at dinner, when perhaps\nit could not be accepted.(584) In the train which the great man gathered\nabout him, to swell his importance, were to be seen, not only the starving\nman of letters, the loafer and mere mendicant, but the sons of ruined\nhouses \u201csprung from Troy,\u201d and even senators and men of consular rank who\nhad a client\u00e8le of their own.(585)\n\nNothing throws a more lurid light on the economic condition of Italy in\nthe time of the early Empire than this form of pensioned dependence. The\nimpression which we derive from Juvenal and Martial is that of a society\ndivided between a small class of immensely wealthy people, and an almost\nstarving proletariat.(586) Poverty seems almost universal, except in the\nfreedman class, who by an industrial energy and speculative daring, which\nwere despised by the true-born Roman, were now rapidly rising to opulence.\nThe causes of this plebeian indigence can only be glanced at here. The\nagricultural revolution, which ruined the small freeholders and created\nthe plantation system,(587) had driven great numbers of once prosperous\nfarmers to the capital, to depend on the granaries of the State, or on the\ncharity of a wealthy patron. Such men were kept in poverty and dependence\nby that general contempt for trade and industrial pursuits which always\nprevails in a slave-owning society. Many of the greatest families had been\nreduced to poverty by proscription and confiscation. A great noble might\nbe keeping sheep on a Laurentine farm, if he could not win a pension from\nthe grace of the Emperor. At the same time, from various causes, what we\nshould call the liberal professions, with the doubtful exception of\nmedicine, tortured those engaged in them by the contrast between ambitious\nhopes and the misery of squalid poverty. \u201cMake your son an auctioneer or\nan undertaker rather than an advocate or a man of letters\u201d is the advice\nof Martial and Juvenal, and of the shrewd vulgar guests of\nTrimalchio.(588) Any mean and malodorous trade will be more lucrative than\nthe greatest knowledge and culture. The rich literary amateur, who should\nhave been a Maecenas, in that age became an author himself, composed his\nown Thebaid or Codrid, and would only help the poor man of genius by the\nloan of an unfurnished hall for a reading.(589) The unabashed mendicancy\nof Martial shows the mean straits to which the genuine literary man was\nreduced.(590) The historian will not earn as much as the reader of the\n_Acta Diurna_.(591) It is the same with education. What costs the father\nleast is the training of his son. The man who will expend a fortune on his\nbaths and colonnades, can spare a Quintilian only a fraction of what he\nwill give for a pastry cook.(592) The grammarian, who is expected to be\nmaster of all literature, will be lucky if he receives as much for the\nyear as a charioteer gains by a single victory.(593) If the rhetor, weary\nof mock battles, descends into the real arena of the courts, he fares no\nbetter.(594) The bar is overcrowded by men to whom no other career of\nambition is open, by old informers who find their occupation gone, by the\nsons of noble houses who parade the glory of their ancestors in order to\nattract vulgar clients. They are carried in a litter, surrounded by slaves\nand dependents, down to the courts of the Centumviri. The poor pleader\nmust hire or borrow purple robes and jewelled rings, if he is to compete\nwith them. And in the end, he may find his honorarium for a day\u2019s hard\npleading to be a leg of pork, a jar of tunnies, or a few flasks of cheap\nwine. In this materialised society all the prizes go to the coarser\nqualities; there is nothing but neglect and starvation before taste and\nintellect. And poverty is punished by being forced to put on the show of\nwealth.(595) That stately person in violet robes who stalks through the\nforum, or reclines in a freshly decorated chair, followed by a throng of\nslaves, has just pawned his ring to buy a dinner.(596) That matron, who\nhas sold the last pieces of her ancestral plate, will hire splendid dress,\na sedan chair, and a troop of attendants, to go in proper state to the\ngames.(597) Thus you have the spectacle of a society divided between the\nidle, luxurious rich and the lazy, hungry poor, who imitate all the vices\nof the rich, and although too proud to work, are not ashamed to borrow or\nto beg.\n\nIn such a society, where the paths of honest industry seemed closed to the\npoor, or as yet undiscovered, the great problem was how to secure without\nlabour a share of the wealth which was monopolised by the few. The problem\nwas solved by the obsequiousness of the client, or by the arts of the\nwill-hunter. Owing to celibacy and vice, childlessness in that age was\nextraordinarily common in the upper class. In a society of \u201cambitious\npoverty,\u201d a society where poverty was unable, or where it disdained, to\nfind the path to competence through honest toil, the wealthy, without\nnatural heirs, offered a tempting prey to the needy adventurer. Captation\nby every kind of mean flattery, or vicious service, became a recognised\nprofession. In the Croton of Petronius there are only two classes, the\nrich and the sycophant, the hunters and the hunted.(598) Even men of high\nposition, with no temptation from want, would stoop to this detestable\ntrade.(599) And the social tone which tolerated the captator, made it\nalmost an honour to be beset on a sick-bed by these rapacious sycophants.\nOne of the darkest and most repulsive features in that putrescent society\nwas the social value which attached to a vicious and shameful\nchildlessness. A morose and unlovely old age could thus gather around it a\nlittle court of dependents and pretended friends, such as a career of\ngreat achievement would hardly attract. There have been few more loathsome\ncharacters than the polished hypocrite by the sick-bed of his prey,\nshedding tears of feigned sympathy, while with eager eyes he is noting\nevery symptom of the approaching end.(600)\n\nJuvenal and Petronius, the embittered plebeian, and the cynical,\nfastidious epicure of Nero\u2019s court, alike treat their age as utterly\ncorrupted and vulgarised by the passion for money; \u201cinter nos sanctissima\ndivitiarum Majestas.\u201d(601) No virtue, no gifts, no eminence of service,\nwill be noticed in the poor.(602) A great fortune will conceal the want of\ntalent, sense, or common decency. Everything is forgiven to the master of\nmoney bags, even the brand of the slave prison.(603) In Juvenal and\nMartial probably the most resonant note is the cry of the poor\u2014\u201cHow long.\u201d\nYet, after all, it is not a fierce cry of revolt; against that highly\norganised and centralised society the disinherited never dreamed of\nrebellion, even when the Goths were under the walls. It is rather an\nappeal, though often a bitter and angry appeal, for pity and a modest\nshare in a wasted abundance. In the poems of Juvenal and Martial, as in\nthe sentiment of the colleges and municipalities for generations, the one\nhope for the mass of helpless indigence lay in awaking the generosity and\ncharity of the rich. The rich, as we shall see in another chapter,\nadmitted the obligation, and responded to the claim, often in the most\nlavish fashion. A long line of emperors not only fed the mob of the\ncapital, but squandered the resources of the State in providing gross and\ndemoralising amusements for them.(604) Under the influence of the Stoic\nteaching of the brotherhood of man and the duty of mutual help, both\nprivate citizens and benevolent princes, from Nero to M. Aurelius, created\ncharitable foundations for the orphan and the needy.(605) Public\ncalamities were relieved again and again by imperial aid and private\ncharity.(606) The love of wealth was strong, but a spirit of benevolence\nwas in the air, even in the days of Juvenal; and the constant invectives\nof poet or philosopher against wealth and luxury are not so much the sign\nof a growing selfishness, as of a spreading sense of the duty of the\nfortunate to the miserable. Although the literary men seem never to have\nthought of any economic solution of the social problem, through the\ntapping of fresh sources of wealth from which all might draw, yet there\ncan be no doubt that there was, at least in provincial cities, a great\nindustrial movement in the Antonine age, which gave wealth to some, and a\nrespectable competence to many. The opulent freedman and the contented\nartisan have left many a memorial in the inscriptions. Yet the movement\nhad not solved the social problem in the days of Lucian, as it has not\nsolved it after seventeen centuries. The cry of the poor against the\nselfish rich, which rings in the ears of the detached man of letters at\nthe end of the Antonine age, will still ring in the ears of the ascetic\nSalvianus, when the Germans have passed the Rhine.(607)\n\nThe scorn and hatred of Juvenal for wealth and its vices is natural to a\nclass which was too proud to struggle out of poverty, by engaging in the\nindustries which it despised. And the freedman, who occupied the vacant\nfield, and rose to opulence, is even more an object of hatred to Juvenal\nand Martial than the recreant noble or the stingy patron. He was an alien\nof servile birth, and he had made himself wealthy by the usual method of\nthinking of nothing but gold. These men, who were not even free Romans,\nhad mastered the power which commands the allegiance of the world. The\nrise of this new class to wealth and importance probably irritated men of\nJuvenal\u2019s type more than any other sign of social injustice in their time.\nAnd the Trimalchio of Petronius, a man of low, tainted origin, the\ncreature of economic accident, whose one faith is in the power of money,\nwho boasts of his fortune as if it had been won by real talent or\nhonourable service, who expends it with coarse ostentation and a ludicrous\naffectation of cultivated taste, may be tolerated in literature, if not in\nactual life, for the charm of a certain kindly bonhomie and honest\nvulgarity, which the art of Petronius has thrown around him. Yet, after\nall, we must concede to Juvenal and Martial, that such a person is always\na somewhat unpleasing social product. But the subject is so important that\nit claims a chapter to itself. And, fortunately for us and our readers,\nthe new freedmen were not all of the type of Trimalchio.\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER III\n\n\n                       THE SOCIETY OF THE FREEDMEN\n\n\nThe historian, who is occupied with war and politics, and the fate of\nprinces and nobles, is apt to lose sight of great silent movements in the\ndim masses of society. And, in the history of the early Empire, the deadly\nconflict between the Emperor and the Senate, the carnival of luxury, and\nthe tragic close of so many reigns, have diverted attention from social\nchanges of immense moment. Not the least important of these was the rise\nof the freedmen, in the face of the most violent prejudice, both popular\nand aristocratic. And literature has thrown its whole weight on the side\nof prejudice, and given full vent alike to the scorn of the noble, and to\nthe hate and envy of the plebeian. The movement, indeed, was so swift and\nfar spreading that old conservative instincts might well be alarmed.\nEverywhere in the inscriptions freedmen are seen rising to wealth and\nconsequence throughout the provinces, as well as in Italy, and winning\npopularity and influence by profuse benefactions to colleges and\nmunicipalities. In almost every district of the Roman Empire the order of\nthe Augustales, which was composed to a great extent of wealthy\nfreedmen,(608) has left its memorials. \u201cFreedman\u2019s wealth\u201d in Martial\u2019s\nday had become a proverb.(609) Not only are they crowding all the meaner\ntrades, from which Roman pride shrank contemptuously, but, by industry,\nshrewdness, and speculative daring, they are becoming great capitalists\nand landowners on a senatorial scale. The Trimalchio of Petronius, who has\nnot even seen some of his estates,(610) if we allow for some artistic\nexaggeration, is undoubtedly the representative of a great class. In the\nreign of Nero, a debate arose in the Senate on the insolence and\nmisconduct of freedmen.(611) And it was argued by those opposed to any\nviolent measures of repression, that the class was widely diffused; they\nwere found in overwhelming numbers in the city tribes, in the lower\noffices of the civil service, in the establishments of the magistrates and\npriests; a considerable number even of the knights and Senate drew their\norigin from this source. If freedmen were marked off sharply as a separate\ngrade, the scanty numbers of the freeborn would be revealed. In the reigns\nof Claudius and Nero especially, freedmen rose to the highest places in\nthe imperial service, sometimes by unquestionable knowledge, tact, and\nability, sometimes by less creditable arts. The promotion of a Narcissus\nor a Pallas was also a stroke of policy, the assertion of the prince\u2019s\nindependence of a jealous nobility. The rule of the freedmen was a bitter\nmemory to the Senate.(612) The scorn of Pliny for Pallas expresses the\nlong pent-up feelings of his order; it is a belated vengeance for the\nhumiliation they endured in the evil days when they heaped ridiculous\nflattery on the favourite, and voted him a fortune and a statue.(613) Some\npart of the joy with which the accession of Trajan was hailed by the\naristocracy was due to the hope that the despised interlopers would be\nrelegated to their proper obscurity. Tacitus is undoubtedly glancing at\nthe Claudian r\u00e9gime when he grimly congratulates the Germans on the fact\nthat their freedmen are little above the level of slaves, that they have\nseldom any power in the family, and never in the State.(614)\n\nIt shows the immense force of old Roman conservatism and of social\nprejudice which is the same from age to age, when men so cultivated, yet\nof such widely different temperament and associations as Pliny and\nTacitus, Juvenal and Martial(615) and Petronius, denounce or ridicule an\nirresistible social movement. We can now see that the rise of the\nemancipated slave was not only inevitable, but that it was, on the whole,\nsalutary and rich in promise for the future. The slave class of antiquity\nreally corresponded to our free labouring class. But, unlike the mass of\nour artisans, it contained many who, from accident of birth and education,\nhad a skill and knowledge which their masters often did not possess.(616)\nThe slaves who came from the ancient seats of civilisation in the East are\nnot to be compared with the dark gross races who seem to be stamped by\nnature as of an inferior breed. This frequent mental and moral equality of\nthe Roman slave with his master had forced itself upon men of the detached\nphilosophic class, like Seneca, and on kindly aristocrats, like\nPliny.(617) It must have been hard to sit long hours in the library beside\na cultivated slave-amanuensis, or to discuss the management of lands and\nmines and quarries with a shrewd, well-informed slave-agent, or to be\ncharmed by the grace and wit of some fair, frail daughter of Ionia,\nwithout having some doubts raised as to the eternal justice of such an\ninstitution. Nay, it is certain that slaves were often treated as\nfriends,(618) and received freedom and a liberal bequest at their master\u2019s\ndeath. Many educated slaves, as we have seen, rose to distinction and\nfortune as teachers and physicians.(619) But the field of trade and\nindustry was the most open and the most tempting. The Senator was\nforbidden, down to the last age of the Empire, both by law and sentiment,\nto increase his fortune by commerce.(620) The plebeian, saturated with\nRoman prejudice, looking for support to the granaries of the state or the\ndole of the wealthy patron, turned with disdain from occupations which are\nin our days thought innocent, if not honourable. Juvenal feels almost as\nmuch scorn for the auctioneer and undertaker as he has for the pander, and\ntreats almost as a criminal the merchant who braves the wintry Aegean with\na cargo of wine from Crete.(621) His friend Umbricius, worsted in the\nsocial struggle, and preparing to quit Rome for a retreat in Campania,\namong the other objects of his plebeian scorn, is specially disgusted with\nthe low tribe who contract for the building of a house, or who farm the\ndues of a port or undertake to cleanse a river-bed.(622) There is no room\nleft in Rome for men who will not soil themselves with such sordid trades.\nManifestly, if the satirist is not burlesquing the feeling of his class,\nthere was plenty of room left for the vigorous freedman who could accept\nVespasian\u2019s motto that no gain is unsavoury.(623) But those men had not\nonly commercial tact and ability, the wit to see where money was to be\nmade by seizing new openings and unoccupied fields for enterprise; they\nhad also among them men of great ambitions, men capable of great affairs.\nIt required no common deftness, suppleness, and vigilant energy for an old\nslave to work his way upwards through the grades of the imperial chancery,\nto thread the maze of deadly intrigue, in the reigns of Claudius or Nero,\nand to emerge at last as master of the palace. Yet one of these freedmen\nministers, when he died, had served ten emperors, six of whom had come to\na violent end.(624) That a class so despised and depressed should rise to\ncontrol the trade, and even the administration of the Empire, furnishes a\npresumption that they were needed, and that they were not unworthy of\ntheir destiny.\n\nYet however inevitable, or even desirable, this great revolution may seem\nto the cool critic of the twentieth century, it is possible that, had he\nlived in the first, he might have denounced it as vigorously as Juvenal.\nThe literary and artistic spirit, often living in a past golden age, and\nremotely detached from the movements going on around it, is prone to\nregard them with uneasy suspicion. It is moved by sacred sentiment, by\nmemories and distant ideals, by fastidious taste, which expresses itself\noften with passionate hatred for what seems to it revolutionary sacrilege.\nIt is also apt to fasten on the more grotesque and vulgar traits of any\ngreat popular movement, and to use a finished skill in making it\nridiculous. It was in this way that literature treated the freedmen. They\nhad many gross and palpable faults; they were old slaves and Orientals; as\nthey rose in the world they were eager for money, and they got it; they\nwere, many of them, naturally vulgar, and they paraded their new wealth\nwith execrable taste, and trampled on better, though poorer, men than\nthemselves, Juvenal and Martial, by birth and associations, have little in\ncommon with that accomplished exquisite of the Neronian circle who has\npainted with the power of careless genius the household of the _parvenu_\nTrimalchio. Yet they have an equal scorn or detestation for the new man\nwho was forcing his way from the lowest debasement of servile life to\nfortune and power. But the embittered man of letters, humiliated by\npoverty, yet brimful of Roman pride, avenges his ideals with a rougher,\nheavier hand than the Epicurean noble, who had joined in the \u201cNoctes\nNeronis\u201d with a delicate, scornful cynicism, who was too disillusioned,\nand too fastidiously contemptuous, to waste anger on what he despised.\nJuvenal would blast and wither the objects of his hatred. Petronius takes\nthe surer method of making these people supremely ridiculous. The feeling\nof men like Juvenal and Martial is a mixture of contempt and envy and\noutraged taste. The Grub Street man of letters in those days despised\nplodding industry because he dearly loved fits of idleness; he hated\nwealth because he was poor. The polished man of the world was alternately\namused and disgusted by the spectacle of sudden fortune accumulated by\nhappy chance or unscrupulous arts, with no tradition of dignity to gild\nits grossness, yet affecting and burlesquing the tastes of a world from\nwhich it was separated by an impassable gulf. There is more moral\nsentiment, more old Roman feeling, in the declamation of Juvenal than in\nthe cold artistic scorn of the _Satiricon_; there is also more personal\nand class feeling. The triumph of mere money is to Juvenal a personal\naffront as well as a moral catastrophe. Poverty now makes a man\nridiculous.(625) It blocks the path of the finest merit. The rich freedman\nwho claims the foremost place at a lev\u00e9e is equally objectionable because\nhe was born on the Euphrates, and because he is the owner of five taverns\nwhich yield HS.400,000 a year.(626) The impoverished knight must quit his\nold place on the benches to make way for some auctioneer or pimp, some old\nslave from the Nile who stalks in with purple robes and bejewelled\nfingers, and hair reeking with unguents.(627) The only refuge will soon be\nsome half-deserted village on old-fashioned Sabine ground, where the\ncountry folk sit side by side in the same white tunics with their aediles\nin the grassy theatre.(628) It is evident from Juvenal, Martial, and\nPetronius that the popular hostility to the new men was partly the result\nof envy at their success, partly of disgust at their parade of it. Juvenal\nand Martial are often probably dressing up the rough epigrams of the\ncrowd. We can almost hear the contemptuous growl as one of these people,\nsuspected of a dark crime, sweeps by in his downy sedan. That other noble\nknight used to hawk the cheap fish of his native Egypt, and now possesses\na palace towering over the Forum, with far-spreading colonnades and acres\nof shady groves.(629) A eunuch minister has reared a pile which out-tops\nthe Capitol.(630) Fellows who used to blow the horn in the circus of\ncountry towns now give gladiatorial shows themselves.(631) Prejudice or\nenvy may not improbably have invented some of the tales of crime and\nturpitude by which these fortunes had been won. Rome was a city of\npoisonous rumour. Yet slavery was not a nursery of virtue, and the\n_Satiricon_ leaves the impression that the emancipated slave too often\nimitated the vices of his master. The poisoner, the perjurer, the minion,\nwere probably to be found in the rising class. After their kind in all\nages, they looked down with vulgar insolence on those less fortunate or\nmore scrupulous. When they rose to the highest place, the imperial\nfreedmen were often involved in peculation and criminal intrigue.(632)\nYet, after all reservations, the ascent of the freedmen remains a great\nand beneficent revolution. The very reasons which made Juvenal hate it\nmost are its best justification to a modern mind. It gave hope of a future\nto the slave; by creating a free industrial class, it helped to break down\nthe cramped social ideal of the slave-owner and the soldier; it planted in\nevery municipality a vigorous mercantile class, who were often excellent\nand generous citizens. Above all, it asserted the dignity of man. The\nvehement iteration of Juvenal is the best testimony to the sweep and force\nof the movement. And the later student of Roman society cannot afford to\nneglect a great social upheaval which, in an aristocratic society,\ndominated by pride of class and race, made an Oriental slave first\nminister of the greatest monarchy in history, while it placed men of\nservile origin in command of nearly all the industrial arts and commerce\nof the time.\n\nThe reign of the freedman in public affairs began with the foundation of\nthe Empire, when Julius Caesar installed some of his household as officers\nof the mint.(633) The emperor in the first century was, theoretically at\nleast, only the first citizen, and his household was modelled on the\nfashion of other great houses. In the management of those vast senatorial\nestates, which were often scattered over three continents, there was need\nof an elaborate organisation, and freedmen of education and business\ncapacity were employed to administer such private realms. And in the\norganisation of a great household, there was a hierarchy of office which\noffered a career to the shrewd and trustworthy slave. Many such careers\ncan be traced in the inscriptions, from the post of valet or groom of the\nbedchamber, through the offices of master of the jewels and the wardrobe,\nsuperintendent of the carriages or the vineyards, up to the highest\nfinancial control.(634)\n\nDuring the first century the same system was transferred to the imperial\nadministration. It suited the cautious policy of Augustus to disguise his\nvast powers under the quiet exterior of an ordinary noble; and the\nfreedmen of his household carried on the business of the State. He sternly\npunished any excesses or treachery among his servants.(635) Tiberius gave\nthem little power, until his character began to deteriorate.(636) Under\nCaligula, Claudius, and Nero, the imperial freedmen attained their\ngreatest ascendency. Callistus, Narcissus, and Pallas rose to the rank of\ngreat ministers, and, in the reign of Claudius, were practically masters\nof the world. They accumulated enormous wealth by abusing their power, and\nmaking a traffic in civic rights, in places or pardons. Polyclitus, who\nwas sent to compose the troubles in Britain in 61 A.D., travelled with an\nenormous train, and gave the provinces an exhibition of the arrogance of\ntheir servile masters.(637) Helius was left to carry on the government\nduring Nero\u2019s theatrical travels, and the exhibitions of his artistic\nskill in Greece.(638) Galba put to death two of the great freedmen of\nNero\u2019s reign, but himself fell under the influence of others as corrupt\nand arrogant, and he showered the honours of rank on the infamous\nIcelus.(639)\n\nIt is curious that it was left for Vitellius to break the reign of the\nfreedmen by assigning offices in the imperial bureaux to the knights, the\npolicy which was said to have been recommended by Maecenas,(640) and which\nwas destined to prevail in the second century. But the change was very\nincomplete, and the brief tragic reign of Vitellius was disgraced by the\nascendency for a time of his minion Asiaticus, whom the Emperor raised to\nthe highest honours, then sold into a troop of wandering gladiators, and\nfinally received back again into freedom and favour.(641) The policy of\nthe Flavian dynasty in the employment of freedmen is rather ambiguous.\nVespasian is charged with having elevated Hormus, a disreputable member of\nthe class, and with having appointed to places of trust the most rapacious\nagents.(642) But this is probably a calumny of the Neronian and Othonian\ncircle who defamed their conqueror. Under Domitian, the freedmen, Entellus\nand Abascantus, held two of the great secretaryships. But it is distinctly\nrecorded that Domitian distributed offices impartially between the\nfreedmen and the knights.(643) On the accession of Trajan, Pliny, in his\nPanegyric, exults in the fall of the freedmen from the highest place.(644)\nYet Hadrian is said to have procured his selection as emperor by carefully\ncultivating the favour of Trajan\u2019s freedmen. Hadrian, in reorganising the\nimperial administration, and founding the bureaucratic system, which was\nfinally elaborated by Diocletian and Constantine, practically confined the\ntenure of the three great secretaryships to men of equestrian rank. Among\nhis secretaries was the historian Suetonius.(645) Antoninus Pius severely\nrepressed men of servile origin in the interest of pure\nadministration;(646) but they regained some influence for a time under M.\nAurelius, and rose still higher under his infamous son.\n\nThe position of freedmen in the imperial administration was partly, as we\nhave seen, a tradition of aristocratic households. The emperor employed\nhis freedmen to write his despatches and administer the finances of the\nEmpire, as he would have used them to write his private letters or to\nmanage his private estates. But, in the long conflict between the prince\nand the Senate, the employment of trusted freedmen in imperial affairs was\nalso a measure of policy. It was meant to teach the nobles that the Empire\ncould be administered without their aid.(647) Nor was the confidence of\nthe Emperor in his humble subordinates unjustified. The eulogies of the\ngreat freedmen in Seneca and Statius, even if they be exaggerated, leave\nthe impression that a Polybius, a Claudius Etruscus, or an Abascantus\nwere, in many respects, worthy of their high place. The provinces were, on\nthe whole, well governed and happy in the very years when the capital was\nseething with conspiracy, and racked with the horrors of confiscation and\nmassacre. This must have been chiefly due to the knowledge, tact, and\nability of the great officials of the palace. Although of servile origin,\nthey must have belonged to that considerable class of educated slaves who,\nalong with the versatility and tact of the Hellenic East, brought to their\ntask also a knowledge and a literary and linguistic skill which were not\ncommon among Roman knights. The three imperial secretaryships, _a\nrationibus_, _a libellis_, and _ab epistulis_, covered a vast field of\nadministration, and the duties of these great ministries could only have\nbeen performed by men of great industry, talent, and diplomatic\nadroitness.(648) The Polybius to whom Seneca, from his exile in Sardinia,\nwrote a consolatory letter on the death of his brother, was the successor\nof Callistus, as secretary of petitions, in the reign of Claudius, and\nalso the emperor\u2019s adviser of studies. Seneca magnifies the dignity, and\nalso the burden, of his great rank, which demands an abnegation of all the\nordinary pleasures of life.(649) A man has no time to indulge a private\ngrief who has to study and arrange for the Emperor\u2019s decision thousands of\nappeals coming from every quarter of the world. Yet this busy man could\nfind time for literary work, and his translations from the Greek are\nlauded by the philosopher with an enthusiasm of which the cruelty of time\ndoes not allow us to estimate the value.(650) The panegyric on Claudius\nEtruscus, composed by Statius, records an even more remarkable\ncareer.(651) Claudius Etruscus died at the age of eighty, in the reign of\nDomitian, having served in various capacities under ten emperors,(652) six\nof whom had died by a violent death. It was a strangely romantic life, to\nwhich we could hardly find a parallel in the most democratic community in\nmodern times. Claudius, a Smyrniote slave,(653) in the household of\nTiberius, was emancipated and promoted by that Emperor. He followed the\ntrain of Caligula to Gaul,(654) rose to higher rank under Claudius, and,\nprobably in Nero\u2019s reign, on the retirement of Pallas, was appointed to\nthat financial office of which the world-wide cares are pompously\ndescribed by the poet biographer.(655) The gold of Iberian mines, the\nharvests of Egypt, the fleeces of Tarentine flocks, pearls from the depths\nof Eastern seas, the ivory tribute of the Indies, all the wealth wafted to\nRome by every wind, are committed to his keeping. He had also the task of\ndisbursing a vast revenue for the support of the populace, for roads and\nbulwarks against the sea, for the splendour of temples and palaces.(656)\nSuch cares left space only for brief slumber and hasty meals; there was\nnone for pleasure. Yet Claudius had the supreme satisfaction of wielding\nenormous power, and he occasionally shared in its splendour. The poor\nslave from the Hermus had a place in the \u201cIdumaean triumph\u201d of Vespasian,\nwhich his quiet labours had prepared, and he was raised by that emperor to\nthe benches of the knights.(657) The only check in that prosperous course\nseems to have been a brief exile to the shores of Campania in the reign of\nDomitian.(658)\n\nAbascantus,(659) the secretary _ab epistulis_ of Domitian\u2019s reign, has\nalso been commemorated by Statius. That great office which controlled the\nimperial correspondence with all parts of the world, was generally held by\nfreedmen in the first century. Narcissus, in the reign of Claudius, first\nmade it a great ministry.(660) Down to the reign of Hadrian the despatches\nboth in Greek and Latin were under a single superintendence. But in the\nreorganisation of the service in the second century, it was found\nnecessary, from the growing complication of business, to create two\ndepartments of imperial correspondence.(661) Men of rank held the\nsecretaryship from the end of the first century. Titinius Capito, one of\nPliny\u2019s circle, filled the office under Domitian; Suetonius was appointed\nby Hadrian.(662) And during the Antonine age, the secretaries were often\nmen of literary distinction.(663) Abascantus, the freedman secretary in\nthe Silvae, had upon his shoulders, according to the poet, the whole\nweight of the correspondence with both East and West.(664) He received the\nlaurelled despatches from the Euphrates, the Danube, and the Rhine; he had\nto watch the distribution of military grades and commands. He must keep\nhimself informed of a thousand things affecting the fortunes of the\nsubject peoples. Yet this powerful minister retained his native modesty\nwith his growing fortune. His household was distinguished by all the\nsobriety and frugality of an Apulian or Sabine home.(665) He could be\nlavish, however, at the call of love or loyalty. He gave his wife\nPriscilla an almost royal burial.(666) Embalmed with all the spices and\nfragrant odours of the East, and canopied with purple, her body was borne\nto her last stately home of marble on the Appian Way.(667)\n\nSome of the great imperial freedmen were of less unexceptionable character\nthan Claudius Etruscus and Abascantus, and had a more troubled career.\nCallistus, Narcissus, and Pallas, were deeply involved in the intrigues\nand crimes connected with the history of Messalina and Agrippina.\nCallistus had a part in the murder of Caligula, and prolonged his power in\nthe following reign. Narcissus revealed the shameless marriage of\nMessalina with Silius, and, forestalling the vacillation of Claudius, had\nthe imperial harlot ruthlessly struck down as she lay grovelling in the\ngardens of Lucullus.(668) But he incurred the enmity of a more formidable\nwoman even than Messalina, and his long career of plunder was ended by\nsuicide.(669) Pallas had an even longer and more successful, but a not\nless infamous and tragic career.(670) Of all the great freedmen, probably\nnone approached him in magnificent insolence. When he was impeached along\nwith Burrus, on a groundless charge of treason, and when some of his\nfreedmen were called in evidence as his supposed accomplices, the old\nslave answered that he had never degraded his voice by speaking in such\ncompany.(671) Never, even in those days of self-abasement, did the Senate\nsink so low as in its grovelling homage to the servile minister. At a\nmeeting of the august body in the year 52, the consul designate made a\nproposal, which was seconded by a Scipio, that the praetorian insignia,\nand a sum of HS.15,000,000, should be offered to Pallas, together with the\nthanks of the state that the descendant of the ancient kings of Arcadia\nhad thought less of his illustrious race than of the common weal, and had\ndeigned to be enrolled in the service of the prince!(672) When Claudius\nreported that his minister was satisfied with the compliment, and prayed\nto be allowed to remain in his former poverty, a senatorial decree,\nengraved on bronze, was set up to commemorate the old-fashioned frugality\nof the owner of HS.300,000,000! His wealth was gained during a career of\nenormous power in the worst days of the Empire. He was one of the lovers\nof Agrippina,(673) and, when he made her empress on the death of\nMessalina, two kindred spirits for a time ruled the Roman world. He\ngratified his patroness by securing the adoption of Nero by Claudius, and\nhe was probably an accomplice in that emperor\u2019s murder. But his fate was\ninvolved with that of Agrippina. When Nero resolved to shake off the\ntyranny of that awful woman, his first step was to remove the haughty\nfreedman from his offices.(674) Pallas left the palace in the second year\nof Nero\u2019s reign. For seven years he lived on undisturbed. But at last his\nvast wealth, which had become a proverb, became too tempting to the\nspendthrift prince, and Pallas was quietly removed by poison.(675)\n\nThe wealth of freedmen became proverbial, and the fortunes of Pallas and\nNarcissus reached a figure hardly ever surpassed even by the most colossal\nsenatorial estates.(676) The means by which this wealth was gained might\neasily be inferred by any one acquainted with the inner history of the\ntimes. The manner of it may be read in the life of Elagabalus, whose\nfreedman Zoticus, the son of a cook at Smyrna, piled up vast riches by\nlevying a payment, each time he quitted the presence, for his report of\nthe emperor\u2019s threats or promises or intentions.(677) In the\nadministration of great provinces, in the distribution of countless places\nof trust, in the chaos of years of delation, confiscation, and massacre,\nthere must have been endless opportunities for self-enrichment, without\nincurring the dangers of open malversation. Statius extols the simple\ntastes and frugality of his heroes Abascantus and Claudius Etruscus, and\nyet he describes them as lavishing money on baths and tombs and funeral\npomp. The truth is that, as a mere matter of policy, these wealthy aliens,\nwho were never loved by a jealous aristocracy, had to justify their huge\nfortunes by a sumptuous splendour. The elder Pliny has commemorated the\nvapour baths of Posides, a Claudian freedman, and the thirty pillars of\npriceless onyx which adorned the dining saloon of Callistus.(678) A bijou\nbath of the younger Claudius Etruscus seems to have been a miracle of\ncostly beauty. The dome, through which a brilliant light streamed upon the\nfloor, was covered with scenes in rich mosaic. The water gushed from pipes\nof silver into silver basins, and the quarries of Numidia and Synnada\ncontributed the various colours of their marbles.(679) The gardens of\nEntellus, with their purple clusters which defied the rigours of winter,\nseemed to Martial to outrival the legendary gardens of Phaeacia.(680) In\nthe suburbs, hard by the Tiburtine way, rose that defiant monument of\nPallas, bearing the decree of the Senate, which aroused the angry scorn of\nthe younger Pliny.(681)\n\nThe life of one of these imperial slave ministers was a strangely romantic\ncareer which has surely been seldom matched in the history of human\nfortunes. Exposed and sold in early youth in the slave markets of Smyrna,\nDelos, or Puteoli, after an interval of ignominious servitude, installed\nas groom of the chambers, thence promoted, according to his aptitudes, to\nbe keeper of the jewels, or tutor of the imperial heir, still further\nadvanced to be director of the post, or to a place in the financial\nservice, the freedman might end by receiving the honour of knighthood, the\nprocuratorship of a province, or one of those great ministries which\nplaced him in command of the Roman world. Yet we must not deceive\nourselves as to his real position.(682) To the very end of the Empire, the\nfictions on which aristocratic power is largely based, retained their\nfascination. In the fifth century a Senate, whose ancestors were often\noriginally of servile race, could pour their scorn on the eunuch ministers\nof the East.(683) And the decaying or _parvenu_ Senate of the Flavians\nhad, when they were free to express it, nothing but loathing for the reign\nof the freedmen.(684) These powerful but low-born officials are a curious\nexample of what has been often seen in later times, the point-blank\nrefusal, or the grudging concession, of social status to men wielding vast\nand substantial power. The younger Pliny, in his Panegyric on Trajan,\nglories in the preference shown under the new r\u00e9gime for young men of\nbirth, and in his letters he vents all the long-suppressed scorn of his\norder for the Claudian freedmen. Even the emperors who freely employed\ntheir services, were chary of raising them to high social rank. Freedmen\nministers were hardly ever admitted to the ranks of the Senate(685); they\nwere rarely present at its sittings, even at the very time when they were\ngoverning the world. Sacerdotal and military distinctions were seldom\nconferred upon any of them. They were sometimes invested with the insignia\nof praetorian or quaestorian rank.(686) A few were promoted to the dignity\nof knighthood, Icelus, Asiaticus, Hormus, and Claudius Etruscus(687); but\nmany a passage in Martial or Juvenal seems to show that ordinary\nequestrian rank was in those days a very doubtful distinction.(688) The\nemperors, as raised above all ranks, might not have been personally\nunwilling to elevate their creatures to the highest social grade.(689) But\neven the emperors, in matters of social prejudice, were not omnipotent.\n\nStill, the men who could win the favours of an Agrippina and a Messalina,\ncould not be extinguished by the most jealous social prejudice. The Roman\nSenate were ready, on occasion, to fawn on a Pallas or a Narcissus, to\nvote them money and insignia of rank, nor did they always refuse them\ntheir daughters in marriage. In the conflict which is so often seen\nbetween caste pride and the effective power of new wealth, the wealth and\npower not unfrequently prevail. The lex Julia prohibited the union of\nfreedmen with daughters of a senatorial house.(690) Yet we know of several\nsuch marriages in the first century. The wife of the freedman Claudius\nEtruscus, was the sister of a consul who had held high command against the\nDacians.(691) Priscilla, the wife of Abascantus, another minister of\nservile origin, belonged to the great consular family of the Antistii.\nFelix, the brother of Pallas, had married in succession three ladies of\nroyal blood, one of them the granddaughter of Cleopatra.(692)\n\nThe women of this class, for generations, wielded, in their own way, a\npower which sometimes rivalled that of the men. These plebeian Aspasias\nare a puzzling class. With no recognised social position, with the double\ntaint of servile origin and more than doubtful morals, they were often\nendowed with many charms and accomplishments, possessing a special\nattraction for bohemian men of letters. Their morals were the result of an\nuncertain social position, combined with personal attractions and\neducation. To be excluded from good society by ignoble birth, yet to be\nmore than its equal in culture, is a dangerous position, especially for\nwomen. Often of oriental extraction, these women were the most prominent\nvotaries of the cults or superstitions which poured into Rome from the\nprolific East. Loose character and religious fervour were easily combined\nin antiquity. And the _demi-monde_ of those days were ready to mourn\npassionately for Adonis and keep all the feasts of Isis or Jehovah,\nwithout scrupling to make a temple a place of assignation.(693) The\nhistory of the early Empire, it has been rather inaccurately said, shows\nno reign of mistresses. Yet some of the freedwomen have left their mark on\nthat dark page of history. Claudius was the slave of women, and two of his\nmistresses lent their aid to Narcissus to compass the ruin of\nMessalina.(694) The one woman whom Nero really loved, and who loved him in\nreturn, was Acte, who had been bought in a slave market in Asia. She\ncaptured the heart of the Emperor in his early youth, and incurred the\nfierce jealousy of Agrippina, as she did, at a later date, that of the\nfair, ambitious Poppaea.(695) Acte was faithful to his memory even after\nthe last awful scene in Phaon\u2019s gardens.(696) And, along with his two\nnurses, the despised freedwoman guarded his remains and laid the last of\nhis line beside his ancestors. Caenis, the mistress who consoled Vespasian\nafter his wife\u2019s death, without any attractions of youth or beauty, suited\nwell the taste of the bourgeois Emperor. It was a rather sordid and\nprosaic union. And Caenis is said to have accumulated a fortune, and\nbesmirched the honest Emperor\u2019s name, by a wholesale traffic in State\nsecrets and appointments.(697) In the last years of our period a very\ndifferent figure has been glorified by the art of Lucian. Panthea, the\nmistress of L. Verus, completely fascinated the imagination of Lucian when\nhe saw her at Smyrna, during the visit of her lover to the East.(698)\nLucian pictures her delicately chiselled beauty and grace of form by\nrecalling the finest traits in the great masterpieces of Pheidias and\nPraxiteles and Calamis, of Euphranor and Polygnotus and Apelles; Panthea\ncombines them all. She has a voice of a marvellous and mellow sweetness,\nwhich lingers in the ear with a haunting memory. And the soul was worthy\nof such a fair dwelling-place. In her love of music and poetry, combined\nwith a masculine strength of intellect capable of handling the highest\nproblems in politics or dialectic, she was a worthy successor of those\nelder daughters of Ionia whose charm and strength drew a Socrates or a\nPericles to their feet.(699) Surrounded by luxury and the pomp of imperial\nrank, and linked to a very unworthy lover, Panthea never lost her natural\nmodesty and simple sweetness.\n\nThe great freedmen, who held the highest offices in the imperial service\ntill the time of Hadrian with almost undisputed sway, are interesting by\nreason of the strangely romantic career of some of them. But these are\nvery exceptional cases. In the bureaux of finance, it has been discovered\nfrom the inscriptions that the officials were all of equestrian rank. On\nthe other hand, a great number of the provincial procurators were\nfreedmen. And the agents of the Emperor\u2019s private fisc seem to have been\nnearly always drawn from this class. The lower grades of the civil service\nwere full of them.(700) But to the student of society, the official\nfreedmen are, as a class, not so interesting as their brethren who in\nthese same years were making themselves masters of the trade and\ncommercial capital of the Roman world. And the interest is heightened by\nthe vivid art with which Petronius has ushered us into the very heart of\nthis rather vulgar society. The _Satiricon_ is to some extent a\ncaricature. There were hosts of modest, estimable freedmen whose only\nrecord is in two or three lines on a funeral slab. Yet a caricature must\nhave a foundation of truth, and a careful reader may discover the truth\nunder the humorous exaggeration of Petronius.\n\nThe transition from the status of slave to that of freedman was perhaps\nnot so abrupt and marked as we might at first sight suppose. It is\nprobable that many a slave of the better and more intelligent class found\nlittle practical change in the tenor of his life when he received the\ntouch of the wand before the praetor. Some, like Melissus, the free-born\nslave of Maecenas, actually rejected the proffered boon.(701) There was,\nof course, much cruelty to slaves in many Roman households, and the\nabsolute power of a master, unrestrained by principle or kindly feeling,\nwas an unmitigated curse till it was limited by the humane legislation of\nthe second century.(702) But there must have been many houses, like that\nof the younger Pliny, where the slaves were treated, in Seneca\u2019s phrase,\nas humble friends and real members of the family, where their marriages\nwere f\u00eated with general gaiety,(703) where their sicknesses were tenderly\nwatched, and where they were truly mourned in death. The inscriptions\nreveal to us a better side of slave life, which is not so prominent in our\nliterary authorities. There is many an inscription recording the love and\nfaithfulness of the slave husband and wife, although not under those\nhonoured names. And it is significant that on many of these tablets the\nhonourable title of _conjunx_ is taking the place of the old servile\n_contubernalis_. The inscriptions which testify to the mutual love of\nmaster and servant are hardly less numerous. In one a master speaks of a\nslave-child of four years as being dear to him as a son.(704) Another\ncontains the memorial of a learned lady erected by her slave\nlibrarian.(705) Another records the love of a young noble for his\nnurse,(706) while another is the pathetic tribute of the nurse to her\nyoung charge, who died at five years of age. The whole city household of\nanother great family subscribe from their humble savings for an\naffectionate memorial of their young mistress.(707) Seneca, in his\nhumanitarian tone about slavery, represents a great moral movement, which\nwas destined to express itself in legislation under the Antonines. And the\nenergy with which Seneca denounced harsh or contemptuous conduct to these\nhumble dependents had evidently behind it the force of a steadily growing\nsentiment. The master who abused his power was already beginning to be a\nmarked man.(708)\n\nFrequent manumissions were swelling the freedman class to enormous\ndimensions. The emancipation of slaves by dying bequest was not then,\nindeed, inspired by the same religious motive as in the Middle Ages. But\nit was often dictated by the natural, human wish to make some return to\nfaithful servants, and to leave a memory of kindness behind. But without\nthe voluntary generosity of the master, the slave could easily purchase\nhis own freedom. The price of slaves varied enormously, according to their\nspecial aptitude and grade of service. It might range from \u00a31700, in rare\ncases, to \u00a310, or even less, in our money.(709) But taking the average\nprice of ordinary slaves, one careful and frugal might sometimes save the\ncost of his freedom in a few years. The slave, especially if he had any\nspecial gift, or if he occupied a prominent position in the household, had\nmany chances of adding to his _peculium_. But the commonest drudge might\nspare something from the daily allowance of food.(710) Others, like the\ncooks in Apuleius, might sell their perquisites from the remains of a\nbanquet.(711) The door-keepers, a class notorious for their insolence in\nMartial\u2019s day,(712) often levied heavy tolls for admission to their\nmaster\u2019s presence. And good-natured visitors would not depart without\nleaving a gift to those who had done them service. It must also be\nremembered that the slave system of antiquity covered much of the ground\nof our modern industrial organisation. A great household, or a great\nestate, was a society almost complete in itself. And intelligent slaves\nwere often entrusted with the entire management of certain\ndepartments.(713) The great rural properties had their quarries,\nbrickworks, and mines; and manufactures of all kinds were carried on by\nservile industry, with slaves or freedmen as managers. The merchant, the\nbanker, the contractor, the publisher, had to use, not only slave labour,\nbut slave skill and superintendence.(714) The great household needed to be\norganised under chiefs. And on rural estates, down to the end of the\nWestern Empire, the villicus or procurator was nearly always a man of\nservile origin.(715) In these various capacities, the trusted slave was\noften practically a partner, with a share of the profits, or he had a\ncommission on the returns. Such a fortunate servant, by hoarding his\n_peculium_, might soon become a capitalist on his own account, and well\nable, if he chose, to purchase his freedom. His _peculium_, like that of\nthe son _in manu patris_, was of course by law the property of his master.\nBut the security of the _peculium_ was the security for good service.(716)\nThus a useful and favourite slave often easily became a freedman,\nsometimes by purchase, or, as often happened in the case of servants of\nthe imperial house, by the free gift of the lord. There are even cases on\nrecord where a slave was left heir of his master\u2019s property. Trimalchio\nboasted that he had been made by his master joint heir with the\nEmperor.(717)\n\nThe tie between patron and freedman was very close. The emancipated slave\nhad often been a trusted favourite, and even a friend of the family, and\nhis lord was under an obligation to provide for his future. The freedman\nfrequently remained in the household, with probably little real change in\nhis position. His patron owed him at least support and shelter. But he\noften gave him, besides, the means of an independent life, a farm, a shop,\nor capital to start in some trade.(718) In the time of Ovid, a freedman of\nM. Aurelius Cotta had more than once received from his patron the fortune\nof a knight, besides ample provision for his children.(719) A similar act\nof generosity, which was recklessly abused, is recorded by Martial.(720)\nBy ancient law, as well as by sentiment, senators were forbidden to soil\nthemselves by trade or usury.(721) But so inconvenient a prohibition was\nsure to be evaded. And probably the most frequent means of evasion was by\nentrusting senatorial capital to freedmen or clients, or even to the\nhigher class of slaves.(722) When Trimalchio began to rise in the social\nscale, he gave up trade, and employed his capital in financing men of the\nfreedman class.(723) These people, generally of Levantine origin, had the\naptitude for commerce which has at all times been a characteristic of\ntheir race. And, in the time of the Empire, almost all trade and industry\nwas in their hands. The tale of Petronius reveals the secret of their\nsuccess. They value money beyond anything else; it is the one object of\ntheir lives. They frankly estimate a man\u2019s worth and character in terms of\ncash.(724) Keen, energetic, and unscrupulous, they will \u201cpick a farthing\nout of a dung-heap with their teeth\u201d; \u201clead turns to gold in their\nhands.\u201d(725) They are entirely of Vespasian\u2019s opinion that gold from any\nquarter, however unsavoury, \u201cnever smells.\u201d Taking the world as it was, in\nmany respects they deserved to succeed. They were not, indeed, encumbered\nwith dignity or self-respect. They had one goal, and they worked towards\nit with infinite industry and unfailing courage and self-confidence.\nNothing daunts or dismays them. If a fleet of merchantmen, worth a large\nfortune, is lost in a storm, the freedman speculator will at once sell his\nwife\u2019s clothes and jewels, and start cheerfully on a fresh venture.(726)\nWhen his great ambition has been achieved, he enjoys its fruits after his\nkind in all ages. Excluded from the great world of hereditary culture,\nthese people caricature its tastes, and imitate all its vices, without\ncatching even a reflection of its charm and refinement. The selfish\negotism of the dissipated noble might be bad enough, but it was sometimes\nveiled by a careless grace, or an occasional deference to lofty tradition.\nThe selfishness and grossness of the upstart is naked and not ashamed, or\nwe might almost say, it glories in its shame. Its luxury is a tasteless\nattempt to vie with the splendour of aristocratic banquets. The carver and\nthe waiter perform their tasks to the beat of a deafening music. Art and\nliterature are prostituted to the service of this vulgar parade of new\nwealth, and the divine Homer is profaned by a man who thinks that Hannibal\nfought in the Trojan War.(727) The conversation is of the true bourgeois\ntone, with all its emphasis on the obvious, its unctuous moralising, its\nplatitudes consecrated by their antiquity.\n\nIt is this society which is drawn for us with such a sure, masterly hand,\nand with such graceful ease, by Petronius. The _Satiricon_ is well known\nto be one of the great puzzles and mysteries in Roman literature. Scholars\nhave held the most widely different opinions as to its date, its author,\nand its purpose. The scene has been laid in the reign of Augustus or of\nTiberius, and, on the strength of a misinterpreted inscription, even as\nlate as the reign of Alexander Severus.(728) Those who have attributed it\nto the friend and victim of Nero have been confronted with the silence of\nQuintilian, Juvenal, and Martial, with the silence of Tacitus as to any\nliterary work by Petronius, whose character and end he has described with\na curious sympathy and care.(729) It is only late critics of the lower\nempire, such as Macrobius,(730) and a dilettante aristocrat like Sidonius\nApollinaris,(731) who pay any attention to this remarkable work of genius.\nAnd Sidonius seems to make its author a citizen of Marseilles.(732) Yet\nsilence in such cases may be very deceptive. Martial and Statius never\nmention one another, and both might seem unknown to Tacitus. And Tacitus,\nafter the fashion of the Roman aristocrat, in painting the character of\nPetronius, may not have thought it relevant or important to notice a light\nwork such as the _Satiricon_, even if he had ever seen it. He does not\nthink it worth while to mention the histories of the Emperor Claudius, the\ntragedies of Seneca, or the _Punica_ of Silius Italicus.(733) Tacitus,\nlike Thucydides, is too much absorbed in the social tragedy of his time to\nhave any thought to spare for its artistic efforts. The rather shallow,\neasy-going Pliny has told us far more of social life in the reigns of\nDomitian and Trajan, its rural pleasures and its futile literary\nambitions, than the great, gloomy historian who was absorbed in the\nvicissitudes of the deadly duel between the Senate and the Emperors. One\nthing is certain about the author of this famous piece\u2014he was not a\nplebeian man about town, although it may be doubted whether M. Boissier is\nsafe in maintaining that such a writer would not have chosen his own\nenvironment of the Suburra as the field for his imagination.(734) It is\nsafer to seek for light on the social status of the author in the tone of\nhis work. The _Satiricon_ is emphatically the production of a cultivated\naristocrat, who looks down with serene and amused scorn on the vulgar\nbourgeois world which he is painting. He is interested in it, but it is\nthe interest of the detached, artistic observer, whose own world is very\nfar off. Encolpius and Trimalchio and his coarse freedman friends are\npeople with whom the author would never have dined, but whom, at a safe\nsocial distance, he found infinitely amusing as well as disgusting. He saw\nthat a great social revolution was going on before his eyes, that the old\nslave minion, with estates in three continents, was becoming the rival of\nthe great noble in wealth, that the new-sprung class were presenting to\nthe world a vulgar caricature of the luxury in the palaces on the\nEsquiline. Probably he thought it all bad,(735) but the bad became worse\nwhen it was coarse and vulgar. The ignorant assumption of literary and\nartistic taste in Trimalchio must have been contrasted in the author\u2019s\nmind with many an evening at the palace, when Nero, in his better moods,\nwould recite his far from contemptible verses, or his favourite passages\nfrom Euripides, and when the new style of Lucan would be balanced against\nthat of the great old masters.(736) And the man who had been charmed with\nthe sprightly grace of the stately and charming Poppaea may be forgiven\nfor showing his hard contempt for Fortunata, who, in the middle of dinner,\nruns off to count the silver and deal out the slaves\u2019 share of the\nleavings, and returns to get drunk and fight with one of her guests.(737)\n\nThe motive of the work has been much debated. It has been thought a satire\non the Neronian circle, and again an effort to gratify it, by a revelation\nof the corruptions of the plebeian world, the same impulse which drove\nMessalina to the brothel, and Nero to range the taverns at midnight.(738)\nIt has been thought a satire on the insolence and grossness of Pallas and\nthe freedmen of the Claudian r\u00e9gime which Nero detested, to amuse him with\nall their vulgar absurdities. Is it not possible that the writer was\nmerely pleasing himself\u2014that he was simply following the impulse of\ngenius? Since the seventh century the work has only existed in\nfragments.(739) Who can tell how much the lost portions, if we possessed\nthem, might affect our judgment of the object of the work? One thing is\ncertain, its author was a very complex character, and would probably have\nsmiled at some of the lumbering efforts to read his secret. Even though he\nmay have had no lofty purpose, a weary man of pleasure may have wished to\ndisplay, in its grossest, vulgarest form, the life of which he had tasted\nthe pleasures, and which he had seen turning into Dead Sea fruit. He was\nprobably a bad man in his conduct, worse perhaps in his imagination; and\nyet, by a strange contradiction, which is not unexampled in the history of\ncharacter, he may have had dreams of a refined purity and temperance which\ntortured and embittered him by their contrast with actual life.\n\nOut of the smoke of controversy, the conclusion seems to have emerged that\nthe _Satiricon_ is a work of Nero\u2019s reign, and that its author was in all\nprobability that Caius Petronius who was Nero\u2019s close companion, and who\nfell a victim to the jealousy of Tigellinus. Not the least cogent proof of\nthis is the literary criticism of the work. It is well known that Lucan,\nbelonging to the Spanish family of the Senecas, had thrown off many of the\nconventions of Roman literature, and discarded the machinery of epic\nmythology in his _Pharsalia_. He had also incurred the literary jealousy\nof Nero. The attack in the _Satiricon_ on Lucan\u2019s literary aberrations can\nhardly be mistaken. The old poet Eumolpus is introduced to defend the\ntraditions of the past. And he gives a not very successful demonstration,\nin 285 verses, of the manner in which the subject should have been\ntreated, with all the scenery and machinery of orthodox epic.(740) This\nspecimen of conservative taste is the least happy part of the work.\n\nSuch evidence is reinforced by the harmony of the whole tone of the\n_Satiricon_ with the clear-cut character of Petronius in Tacitus. There\nwas evidently a singular fascination about this man, which, in spite of\nhis wasted, self-indulgent life, was keenly felt by the severe historian.\nPetronius was capable of great things, but in an age of wild licence he\ndeliberately devoted his brilliant talent to making sensuality a fine art.\nLike Otho, who belonged to the same circle, he showed, as consul and in\nthe government of Bithynia, that a man of pleasure could be equal to great\naffairs.(741) After this single digression from the scheme of the\nvoluptuary, he returned to his pleasures, and became an arbiter in all\nquestions of sensual taste, from whose decision there was no appeal. His\nascendency over the Emperor drew upon him the fatal enmity of Tigellinus.\nPetronius was doomed. It was a time when not even the form of justice was\nused to veil the caprices of tyranny, and Petronius determined not to\nendure a long suspense when the issue was certain. He had gone as far as\nCumae to attend the Emperor. There he was stopped. He retired to his\nchamber and had his veins alternately opened and rebound, meanwhile\nconversing with his friends or listening to light verses, not, as the\nfashion then was, seeking consolation from a Stoic director on the issues\nof life and death. He rewarded some of his slaves; others he had flogged\nbefore his eyes. After a banquet he fell calmly into his last sleep In his\nwill there was none of the craven adulation by which the victim often\nstrove to save his heirs from imperial rapacity. He broke his most\nprecious myrrhine vase, to prevent its being added to Nero\u2019s\ntreasures.(742) His only bequest to the Emperor was a stinging catalogue\nof his secret and nameless sins.(743)\n\nThe _Satiricon_, as we have it, is only a fragment, containing parts of\ntwo books, out of a total of sixteen. It is full of humorous exaggeration\nand wild Aristophanic fun, along with, here and there, very subtle and\nrefined delineation of character. But, except in the famous dinner of\nTrimalchio, there are few signs of regular construction or closeness of\ntexture in plot and incident. Even if we had the whole, it might have been\ndifficult to decipher its motive or to unlock the secret of the author\u2019s\ncharacter. We can only be sure that he was a man of genius, and that he\nwas interested in the intellectual pursuits and tendencies of his time, as\nwell as in its vices and follies. We may perhaps surmise that he was at\nonce perverted and disillusioned, alternately fascinated and disgusted by\nthe worship of the flesh and its lusts in that evil time. He is not, as\nhas been sometimes said, utterly devoid of a moral sense. Occasionally he\nshows a gleam of nobler feeling, a sense of the _lacrimae rerum_, as in\nthat passage where the corpse of the shipwrecked Lichas is washed ashore.\n\u201cSomewhere a wife is quietly awaiting him, or a father or a son, with no\nthought of storm; some one whom he kissed on leaving.... He had examined\nthe accounts of his estates, he had pictured to himself the day of his\nreturn to his home. And now he lies, O ye gods, how far from the goal of\nhis hopes. But the sea is not the only mocker of the hopes of men. If you\nreckon well, there is shipwreck everywhere.\u201d(744) There is also a curious\nnote of contempt for his own age in a passage on the decay of the fine\narts. The tone is, for the moment, almost that of Ruskin. The glories of\nthe golden age of art were the result of simple virtue. An age like the\nNeronian, an age abandoned to wine and harlotry, which dreams only of\nmaking money by any sordid means, cannot even appreciate what the great\nmasters have left behind, much less itself produce anything worthy. Even\nthe gods of the Capitol are now honoured by an offering of crude bullion,\nnot by the masterpieces of a Pheidias or an Apelles. And the race which\ncreated them are now for us, forsooth, silly Greeklings!(745)\n\nYet side by side with a passage like this, there are descriptions of\nabnormal depravity so coarsely realistic that it has often been assumed,\nand not unnaturally, that the writer rioted in mere filth. It should be\nremembered, however, that there was a tradition of immorality about the\nancient romance,(746) and Petronius, had he cared to do so, might have\nmade the same apology as Martial, that he provided what his readers\ndemanded.(747) That Petronius was deeply tainted is only too probable from\nhis associations, although Tacitus implies that he was rather a fastidious\nvoluptuary than a gross debauchee. Yet a sensualist of the intellectual\nrange of Petronius may have occasionally visions of a better world than\nthat to which he has sunk. Is it not possible that the gay elegant trifler\nmay sometimes have scorned himself as he scorned his time? Is it not\npossible that, along with other illusions, he had parted with the\nillusions of vice, and that in the \u201cnoctes Neronis\u201d he had seen the adder\namong the roses? He has written one of the keenest satires ever penned on\nthe vulgarity of mere wealth, its absurd affectations, its vanity, its\ngrossness. May he not also have wished, without moralising in a fashion\nwhich so cultivated a trifler would have scorned, to reveal the abyss\ntowards which a society lost to all the finer passions of the spirit was\nhurrying? In the half comic, half ghastly scene in which Trimalchio, in a\nfit of maudlin sentiment, has himself laid out for dead, while the horns\nblare out his funeral lament, we seem to hear the knell of a society which\nwas the slave of gold and gross pleasure, and seemed to be rotting before\nits death.\n\nBut it need hardly be said that the prevailing note of the _Satiricon_ is\nanything but melancholy. The author is intensely amused with his subject,\nand the piece is full of the most riotous fun and humour. It belongs\nformally to the medley of prose and verse which Varro introduced into\nRoman literature on the model of Menippus of Gadara.(748) It contains\ndisquisitions on literary tendencies of the day in poetry and oratory,\nanecdotes and desultory talk. But Petronius has given a new character to\nthe old \u201cSatura,\u201d more in the manner of the Greek romance. There probably\nwas no regular plot in the complete work, no central motive, such as the\nwrath of Priapus,(749) to bind it together. Yet there is a certain bond of\nunion in the narrative of lively, and often questionable, adventures\nthrough which Petronius carries his very disreputable characters. In this\nlife and movement, this human interest, the _Satiricon_ is the distant\nancestor of _Gil Blas_, _Roderick Random_, and _Tom Jones_.\n\nThe scene of the earlier part, long since lost, may have been laid at\nMassilia.(750) In the two books partially preserved to us, it lies in\nsouthern Italy, at Cumae or Croton, in those Greek towns which had plenty\nof Greek vice, without much Greek refinement.(751) The three strangers,\nwhose adventures are related, Encolpius, Ascyltus, and Giton, if we may\njudge by their names, are also Greek, with the literary culture of their\ntime, and deeply tainted with its worst vices. At the opening of our\nfragment, Encolpius, a beggarly, wandering sophist, is declaiming in a\nportico on the decay of oratory.(752) He is expressing what was probably\nPetronius\u2019s own judgment, as it was that of Tacitus,(753) as to the evil\neffects of school declamation on musty or frivolous subjects. He is met by\na rival lecturer, Agamemnon, who urges, on behalf of the unfortunate\nteachers of this conventional rhetoric, that the fault lies not with them,\nbut with the parents and the public, the same excuse, in fact, which Plato\nhad long before made for the maligned sophist of the fifth century\nB.C.(754) But Encolpius and his companions, in spite of these literary\ninterests, are the most disreputable adventurers, educated yet hopelessly\ndepraved. They are even more at home in the reeking slums than in the\nlecture hall. Encolpius has been guilty of murder, theft, seduction. The\nparty are alternately plunderers and plundered. They riot for the moment\nin foul excesses, and are tortured by jealousy and the miseries of squalid\nvice. Only those who have a taste for pornography will care to follow them\nin these dark paths. Reduced to the last pinch of poverty, they are\ninvited to dine at the all-welcoming table of Trimalchio, and this is for\nus the most interesting passage in their adventures. But, on leaving the\nrich freedman\u2019s halls they once more pass into scenes where a modern pen\ncannot venture to follow them. Yet soon afterwards, Encolpius is found in\na picture gallery discussing the fate of literature and art with\nEumolpus,(755) an inveterate poet, as vicious as himself. Presently the\nparty are on shipboard off the south Italian coast. They are shipwrecked\nand cast ashore in a storm near the town of Croton.(756) A friendly\npeasant informs them that, if they are honest merchants, that is no place\nfor their craft. But if they belong to the more distinguished world of\nintrigue, they may make their fortune. It is a society which has no care\nfor letters or virtue, which thinks only of unearned gain. There are only\ntwo classes, the deceivers and their victims. Children are an expensive\nluxury, for only the childless ever receive an invitation or any social\nattention. It is like a city ravaged by the plague; there are only left\nthe corpses and the vultures.(757) The adventurers resolve to seize the\nrare opportunity; they will turn the tables on the social birds of prey.\nThe pauper poet is easily translated into a millionaire with enormous\nestates in Africa.(758) A portion of his wealth has been engulfed in the\nstorm, but a solid HS.300,000,000, with much besides, still remains. He\nhas a cough, moreover, with other signs of debility. There is no more\nidiotic person, as our Stock Exchange records show, than a man eager for\nan unearned fortune. The poor fools flocked around Eumolpus, drinking in\nevery fresh rumour about his will. He was loaded with gifts;(759) great\nladies made an easy offer of their virtue and even that of their\nchildren.(760) Meanwhile he, or Petronius, plays with their follies or\ntortures their avidity. In one of his many wills, the heirs of the\npretended Croesus are required not to touch their booty till they have\ndevoured his remains before the people!(761) The tales of barbarian tribes\nin Herodotus, the memories of the siege of Saguntum and Numantia, are\ninvoked in brutal irony to justify the reasonableness of the demand.\n\u201cClose your eyes,\u201d the cynic enjoins, \u201cand fancy that instead of devouring\nhuman flesh, you are swallowing a million of money.\u201d Petronius could be\nvery brutal as well as very refined in his raillery. The combined\nstupidity and greed of the fortune-hunter of all ages are perhaps best met\nby such brutality of contempt.\n\nThe really interesting part of their adventure is the dinner at the house\nof Trimalchio, a rich freedman, to which these rascals were invited.\nTrimalchio is probably in many traits drawn from life, but the picture of\nhimself, of his wife and his associates, is a work of genius worthy of\nFielding or Smollett or Le Sage. Petronius, it is clear, enjoyed his work,\nand, in spite of his contempt for the vulgar ambition and the coarseness\nand commonness of Trimalchio\u2019s class, he has a liking for a certain\nsimplicity and honest good nature in Trimalchio. The freedman tells the\nstory of his own career(762) without reserve, and with a certain pride in\nthe virtue and frugality, according to his standards, which have made him\nwhat he is. He also exults in his shrewdness and business capacity. His\nmotto has always been, \u201cYou are worth just what you have.\u201d \u201cBuy cheap and\nsell dear.\u201d Coming as a little slave boy from Asia, probably in the reign\nof Augustus,(763) he became the favourite of his master, and more than the\nfavourite of his mistress. He found himself in the end the real master of\nthe household, and, on his patron\u2019s death, he was left joint-heir to his\nproperty with the emperor. But he had ambitions beyond even such a\nfortune. He became a ship-owner on a great scale. He lost a quarter of a\nmillion in a single storm, and at once proceeded to build more and larger\nships. Money poured in; all his ventures prospered. He bought estates in\nItaly, Sicily, and Africa. Some of his purchases he had never seen.(764)\nHe built himself a stately house, with marble porticoes, four great\nbanqueting-halls, and twenty sleeping-rooms.(765) Everything to satisfy\nhuman wants was produced upon his lands. He was a man of infinite\nenterprise. He had improved the breed of his flocks by importing rams from\nTarentum. He had bees from Hymettus in his hives. He sent to India for\nmushroom spawn.(766) A gazette was regularly brought out, full of\nstatistics, and all the daily incidents on his estates;(767) the number of\nslave births and deaths; a slave crucified for blaspheming the genius of\nthe master; a fire in the bailiff\u2019s house; the divorce of a watchman\u2019s\nwife, who had been caught in adultery with the bathman; a sum of\nHS.100,000 paid into the chest, and waiting for investment\u2014these are some\nof the items of news. Trimalchio, who bears now, after the fashion of his\nclass, the good Roman name of Caius Pompeius, has risen to the dignity of\nSevir Augustalis in his municipality;(768) he is one of the foremost\npersons in it, with an overwhelming sense of the dignity of wealth, and\nwith a ridiculous affectation of artistic and literary culture, which he\nparades with a delightful unconsciousness of his blunders.\n\nWhen the wandering adventurers arrive for dinner,(769) they find a bald\nold man in a red tunic playing at ball, with eunuchs in attendance. While\nhe is afterwards being rubbed down with unguents in the bath, his servants\nrefresh themselves with old Falernian. Then, with four richly dressed\nrunners preceding him, and wrapped in a scarlet mantle, he is borne to the\nhouse in his sedan along with his ugly minion. On the wall of the\nvestibule, as you entered, there were frescoes, one of which represented\nthe young Trimalchio, under the leadership of Minerva, making his entry\ninto Rome, with other striking incidents of his illustrious career, while\nFortune empties her flowing horn, and the Fates spin the golden thread of\nhis destiny.(770) The banquet begins; Alexandrian boys bring iced water\nand delicately attend to the guests\u2019 feet, singing all the while.(771)\nIndeed, the whole service is accompanied by singing, and the blare of\ninstruments. To a great, deafening burst of music, the host is at last\nborne in buried in cushions, his bare shaven head protruding from a\nscarlet cloak, with a stole around his neck, and lappets falling on each\nside; his hands and arms loaded with rings.(772) Not being just then quite\nready for dinner, he, with a kindly apology, has a game of draughts, until\nhe feels inclined to eat, the pieces on the terebinthine board being,\nappropriately to such a player, gold and silver coins.(773) The dinner is\na long series of surprises, on the artistic ingenuity of which Trimalchio\nplumes himself vastly. One course represents the twelve signs of the\nZodiac, of which the host expounds at length the fateful\nsignificance.(774) Another dish was a large boar, with baskets of\nsweetmeats hanging from its tusks. A huge bearded hunter pierced its sides\nwith a hunting knife, and forthwith from the wound there issued a flight\nof thrushes which were dexterously captured in nets as they flew about the\nroom.(775) Towards the end of the meal the guests were startled by strange\nsounds in the ceiling, and a quaking of the whole apartment. As they\nraised their eyes, the ceiling suddenly opened, and a great circular tray\ndescended, with a figure of Priapus, bearing all sorts of fruit and\nbon-bons.(776) It may be readily assumed that in such a scene the wine was\nnot stinted. Huge flagons, coated with gypsum, were brought in shoulder\nhigh, each with a label attesting that it was the great Falernian vintage\nof Opimius, one hundred years old.(777) As the wine appeared, the genial\nhost remarked with admirable frankness, \u201cI did not give as good wine\nyesterday, although I had a more distinguished company!\u201d\n\nThe amusements of the banquet were as various, and some of them as coarse\nor fantastic, as the dishes. They are gross and tasteless exaggerations of\nthe prevailing fashion. In a literary age, a man of Trimalchio\u2019s position\nmust affect some knowledge of letters and art. He is a ludicrous example\nof the dogmatism of pretentious ignorance in all ages. He has a Greek and\nLatin library,(778) and pretends to have once read Homer, although his\nrecollections are rather confused. He makes, for instance, Daedalus shut\nNiobe into the Trojan horse; Iphigenia becomes the wife of Achilles; Helen\nis the sister of Diomede and Ganymede.(779) One of the more refined\nentertainments which are provided is the performance of scenes from the\nHomeric poems, which Trimalchio accompanied by reading in a sonorous voice\nfrom a Latin version.(780) He is himself an author, and has his poems\nrecited by a boy personating the Bacchic god.(781) As a connoisseur of\nplate he will yield to no one,(782) although he slyly confesses that his\n\u201creal Corinthian\u201d got their name from the dealer Corinthus. The metal came\nfrom the fused bronze and gold and silver which Hannibal flung into the\nflames of captured Troy. But Trimalchio\u2019s most genuine taste, as he\nna\u00efvely confesses, is for acrobatic feats and loud horn-blowing. And so, a\ncompany of rope-dancers bore the guests with their monotonous\nperformances.(783) Blood-curdling tales of the wer-wolf, and corpses\ncarried off by witches, are provided for another kind of taste.(784) A\nbase product of Alexandria imitates the notes of the nightingale, and\nanother, apparently of Jewish race, equally base, in torturing dissonant\ntones spouted passages from the _Aeneid_, profaned to scholarly ears by a\nmixture of Atellan verses.(785) Trimalchio, who was anxious that his wife\nshould display her old powers of dancing a _cancan_, is also going to give\nan exhibition of his own gifts in the pantomimic line,(786) when the\nshrewd lady in a whisper warned him to maintain his dignity. How far she\npreserved her own we shall see presently.\n\nThe company at this strange party were worthy of their host. And Petronius\nhas outdone himself in the description of these brother freedmen, looking\nup to Trimalchio as the glory of their order, and giving vent to their\nill-humour, their optimism, or their inane moralities, in conversation\nwith the sly observer who reports their talk. They are all old slaves like\ntheir host, men who have \u201cmade their pile,\u201d or lost it. They rate\nthemselves and their neighbours simply in terms of cash.(787) The only\nability they can understand is that which can \u201cpick money out of the\ndung-heap,\u201d and \u201cturn lead to gold.\u201d(788) These gross and infinitely\nstupid fellows have not even the few saving traits in the character of\nTrimalchio. He has, after all, an honourable, though futile, ambition to\nbe a wit, a connoisseur, a patron of learning. His luxury is coarse\nenough, but he wishes, however vainly, to redeem it by some ingenuity, by\ninterspersing the mere animal feeding with some broken gleams, or, as we\nmay think, faint and distorted reflections, of that great world of which\nhe had heard, but the portals of which he could never enter. But his\ncompany are of mere clay. Trimalchio is gross enough at times, but,\ncompared with his guests, he seems almost tolerable. And their dull\nbaseness is the more torturing to a modern reader because it is an\nenduring type. The neighbour of the Greek observer warns him not to\ndespise his company;(789) they are \u201cwarm\u201d men. That one at the end of the\ncouch, who began as a porter, has his HS.800,000. Another, an undertaker,\nhas had his glorious days, when the wine flowed in rivers;(790) but he has\nbeen compelled to compound with his creditors, and he has played them a\nclever trick. A certain Seleucus, whose name reveals his origin, explains\nhis objections to the bath, especially on this particular morning, when he\nhas been at a funeral.(791) The fate of the departed friend unfortunately\nleads him to moralise on the weakness of mortal men, mere insects, or\nbubbles on the stream. As for medical aid, it is an imaginary comfort; it\noftener kills than cures.(792) The great consolation was that the funeral\nwas respectably done, although the wife was not effusive in her\ngrief.(793) Another guest will have none of this affected mourning for one\nwho lived the life of his choice and left his solid hundred thousand.(794)\nHe was after all a harsh quarrelsome person, very different from his\nbrother, a stout, kindly fellow with an open hand, and a sumptuous table.\nHe had his reverses at first, but he was set up again by a good vintage\nand a lucky bequest, which he knew, by a sly stroke, how to increase; a\ntrue son of fortune, who lived his seventy years and more, as black as a\ncrow, a man who lustily enjoyed all the delights of the flesh to the very\nend.(795)\n\nBut the most interesting person for the modern student is the grumbler\nabout the management of town affairs, and here a page or two of the\n_Satiricon_ is worth a dissertation. The price of bread has gone up, and\nthe bakers must be in league with the aediles. In the good old times, when\nthe critic first came from Asia, things were very different.(796) \u201cThere\nwere giants in those days. Think of Safinius, who lived by the old arch, a\nman with a sharp, biting tongue, but a true friend, a man who, in the town\ncouncil, went straight to his point, whose voice in the forum rang out\nlike a trumpet. Yet he was just like one of us, knew everybody\u2019s name, and\nreturned every salute. Why, in those days corn was as cheap as dirt. You\ncould buy for an as a loaf big enough for two. But the town has since gone\nsadly back.(797) Our aediles now think only how to pocket in a day what\nwould be to some of us a fortune. I know how a certain person made his\nthousand gold pieces. If this goes on, I shall have to sell my cottages.\nNeither men nor the gods have any mercy. It all comes from our neglect of\nreligion. No one now keeps a fast, no one cares a fig for Jove. In old\ndays when there was a drought, the long-robed matrons with bare feet,\ndishevelled hair, and pure hearts, would ascend the hill to entreat\nJupiter for rain, and then it would pour down in buckets.\u201d(798) At this\npoint the maundering, pious pessimist is interrupted by a rag dealer(799)\nof a more cheerful temper. \u201cNow this, now that, as the rustic said, when\nhe lost his speckled pig. What we have not to-day will come to-morrow; so\nlife rubs along. Why, we are to have a three days\u2019 show of gladiators on\nthe next holiday, not of the common sort, but many freedmen among them.\nAnd our Titus has a high spirit; he will not do things by halves. He will\ngive us cold steel without any shirking, a good bit of butchery in full\nview of the amphitheatre. And he can well afford it. His father died and\nleft him HS.30,000,000. What is a paltry HS.400,000 to such a\nfortune?(800) and it will give him a name for ever. He has some tit-bits,\ntoo, in reserve, the lady chariot-driver, and the steward of Glyco, who\nwas caught with his master\u2019s wife; poor wretch, he was only obeying\norders. And the worthless Glyco has given him to the beasts; the lady\ndeserved to suffer. And I have an inkling that Mammaea is going to give us\na feast, where we shall get two denarii apiece. If she does the part\nexpected of her, Norbanus will be nowhere. His gladiators were a wretched,\nweedy, twopenny-halfpenny lot, who would go down at a mere breath. They\nwere all cut to pieces, as the cowards deserved, at the call of the crowd,\n\u2018give it them.\u2019 A pretty show indeed! When I applauded, I gave far more\nthan I got. But friend Agamemnon, you are thinking \u2018what is all this\nlong-winded chatter.\u2019(801) Well, you, who dote on eloquence, why won\u2019t you\ntalk yourself, instead of laughing at us feeble folk. Some day I may\npersuade you to look in at my farm; I daresay, though the times are bad,\nwe shall find a pullet to eat. And I have a young scholar ripening for\nyour trade. He has good wits and never raises his head from his task. He\npaints with a will. He has begun Greek, and has a real taste for Latin.\nBut one of his tutors is conceited and idle. The other is very\npainstaking, but, in his excess of zeal, he teaches more than he knows. So\nI have bought the boy some red-letter volumes, that he may get a tincture\nof law for domestic purposes. That is what gives bread and butter. He has\nnow had enough of literature. If he gives it up, I think I shall teach him\na trade, the barber\u2019s or auctioneer\u2019s or pleader\u2019s,(802) something that\nonly death can take from him. Every day I din into his ears, Primigenius,\nmy boy, what you learn you learn for profit. Look at the lawyer Philero.\nIf he had not learnt his business, he could not keep the wolf from the\ndoor. Why, only a little ago, he was a hawker with a bundle on his back,\nand now he can hold his own with Norbanus. Learning is a treasure, and a\ntrade can never be lost.\u201d\n\nTo all this stimulating talk there are lively interludes. A guest thinks\none of the strangers, in a superior way, is making game of the company,\nand assails him with a shower of the choicest abuse, in malodorous Latin\nof the slums, interlarded with proud references to his own rise from the\nslave ranks.(803) Trimalchio orders the house-dog, Scylax, to be brought\nin, but the brute falls foul of a pet spaniel, and, in the uproar, a lamp\nis overthrown, the vases on the table are all smashed, and some of the\nguests are scalded with the hot oil.(804) In the middle of this lively\nscene, a lictor announces the approach of Habinnas, a stone-cutter, who is\nalso a great dignitary of the town. He arrives rather elevated from\nanother feast of which he has pleasant recollections. He courteously asks\nfor Fortunata,(805) who happens to be just then looking after the plate\nand dividing the remains of the feast among the slaves. That lady, after\nmany calls, appears in a cherry coloured tunic with a yellow girdle,\nwiping her hands with her neckerchief. She has splendid rings on her arms,\nlegs, and fingers, which she pulls off to show them to the stone-cutter\u2019s\nlady. Trimalchio is proud of their weight, and orders a balance to be\nbrought in to confirm his assertions. It is melancholy to relate that, in\nthe end, the two ladies get hopelessly drunk, and fall to embracing one\nanother in a rather hysterical fashion. Fortunata even attempts to\ndance.(806) In the growing confusion the slaves take their places at\ntable, and the cook begins to give imitations of a favourite actor,(807)\nand lays a wager with his master on the chances of the green at the next\nraces. Trimalchio, who by this time was becoming very mellow and\nsentimental, determines to make his will, and to manumit all his slaves,\nwith a farm to one, a house to another. He even gives his friend the\nstone-cutter full directions about the monument which is to record so\nbrilliant a career. There is to be ample provision for its due keeping, in\nthe fashion so well known from the inscriptions, with a fair space of\nprescribed measurements, planted with vines and other fruit trees.\nTrimalchio wishes to be comfortable in his last home.(808) On the face of\nthe monument ships under full sail are to figure the sources of his\nwealth.(809) He himself is to be sculptured, seated on a tribunal, clothed\nwith the _praetexta_ of the Augustalis, with five rings on his fingers,\nladling money from a bag, as in the great banquet with which he had once\nregaled the people.(810) On his right hand there is to be the figure of\nhis wife holding a dove and a spaniel on a leash. A boy is to be graved\nweeping over a broken urn. And, finally, in the centre of the scene, there\nis to be a horologe, that the passer-by, as he looks for the hour, may\nhave his eyes always drawn to the epitaph which recited the dignities and\nvirtues of the illustrious freedman. It told posterity that \u201cC. Pompeius\nTrimalchio Maecenatianus was pious, stout, and trusty, that he rose from\nnothing, left HS.30,000,000, and never heard a philosopher.\u201d The whole\ncompany, along with Trimalchio himself, of course wept copiously at the\nmere thought of the close of so illustrious a career. After renewing their\ngastric energy in the bath, the company fell to another banquet. Presently\na cock crows, and Trimalchio, in a fit of superstition, spills his wine\nunder the table,(811) passes his rings to the right hand, and offers a\nreward to any one who will bring the ominous bird. The disturber was soon\ncaught and handed over to the cook for execution. Then Trimalchio excites\nhis wife\u2019s natural anger by a piece of amatory grossness, and, in\nretaliation for her very vigorous abuse, flings a cup at her head. In the\nscene which follows he gives, with the foulest references to his wife\u2019s\nearly history, a sketch of his own career and the eulogy of the virtues\nthat have made him what he is.(812) Growing more and more sentimental, he\nat last has himself laid out for dead;(813) the horn-blowers sound his\nlast lament, one of them, the undertaker\u2019s man, with such a good will,\nthat the town watch arrived in breathless haste with water and axes to\nextinguish a fire. The strangers seized the opportunity to escape from the\nnauseous scene. Their taste raised them above Trimalchio\u2019s circle, but\nthey were quite on the level of its morals. Encolpius and his companions\nare soon involved in other adventures, in which it is better not to follow\nthem.\n\nThe lesson of all this purse-proud ostentation and vulgarity, the moral\nwhich Petronius may have intended to point, is one which will be taught\nfrom age to age by descendants of Trimalchio, and which will be never\nlearnt till a far off future. But we need not moralise, any more than\nPetronius. We have merely given some snatches of a work, which is now\nseldom read, because it throws a searching light on a class which was\nrising to power in Roman society. We have now seen the worst of that\nsociety, whether crushed by the tyranny of the Caesars, or corrupted and\nvulgarised by sudden elevation from ignominious poverty to wealth and\nluxury. But there were great numbers, both among the nobles and the\nmasses, who, in that evil time, maintained the traditions of old Roman\nsoberness and virtue. The three following chapters will reveal a different\nlife from that which we have hitherto been describing.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                 BOOK II\n\n\n                        _RARA TEMPORUM FELICITAS_\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAPTER I\n\n\n                     THE CIRCLE OF THE YOUNGER PLINY\n\n\nIt is a great relief to turn from the picture of base and vulgar luxury in\nthe novel of Petronius to the sobriety and refinement of a class which has\nbeen elaborately painted by a less skilful artist, but a better man. The\ncontrast between the pictures of Petronius and those of Pliny, of course,\nraises no difficulty. The writers belonged indeed to the same order, but\nthey were describing two different worlds. The difficulty arises when we\ncompare the high tone of the world which Pliny has immortalised, with the\nhideous revelations of contemporary licence in the same class which meet\nus in Juvenal, Martial, and Tacitus. And historical charity or optimism\nhas often turned the contrast to account. But there is no need to pit the\nquiet testimony of Pliny against the fierce invective of Juvenal. Indeed\nto do so would indicate an imperfect insight into the character of the men\nand the associations which moulded their views of the society which\nsurrounded them. The friends of Pliny were for the most part\ncontemporaries of the objects of Juvenal\u2019s wrath and loathing.(814) But\nalthough the two men lived side by side during the same years, and\nprobably began to write for the public about the same date,(815) there is\nno hint that they ever met. They were socially at opposite poles; they\nwere also as widely separated by temperament. Pliny was a charitable,\ngood-natured man, an aristocrat, living among the _\u00e9lite_, with an assured\nposition and easy fortune\u2014a man who, as he admits himself, was inclined to\nidealise his friends.(816) He probably shut his eyes to their moral\nfaults, just as he felt bound in honour to extol their third-rate literary\nefforts. Juvenal was, as in a former chapter we have seen reason to\nbelieve, a soured and embittered man, who viewed the society of the great\nworld only from a distance, and caught up the gossip of the servants\u2019\nhall. With the heat of an excitable temperament, he probably magnified\nwhat he heard, and he made whole classes responsible for the folly and\nintemperance of a few. Martial, the friend of Juvenal, lived in the same\natmosphere, but, while Juvenal was inspired by a moral purpose, Martial\ncaters, unabashed, for a prurient taste.(817) Both the charitable optimist\nand the gloomy, determined pessimist, by limiting their view, can find\nample materials for their respective estimates of pagan society towards\nthe end of the first century. A judicial criticism will combine or balance\nthe opposing evidence rather than select the witnesses.\n\nThe truth is that society in every age presents the most startling moral\ncontrasts, and no single comprehensive description of its moral condition\ncan ever be true. This has been too often forgotten by those who have\npassed judgment on the moral state of Roman society, both in the first age\nof the Empire and in the last. That there was stupendous corruption and\nabnormal depravity under princes like Caligula, Nero, and Domitian, we\nhardly need the testimony of the satirists to induce us to believe. That\nthere were large classes among whom virtuous instinct, and all the sober\nstrength and gravity of the old Roman character, were still vigorous and\nuntainted, is equally attested and equally certain. Ingenious immorality\nand the extravagance of luxury were no doubt rampant in the last century\nof the Republic and in the first century of the Empire, and their enormity\nhas been heightened by the perverted and often prurient literary skill\nwith which the orgies of voluptuous caprice have been painted to the last\nloathsome details. Yet even Ovid has a lingering ideal of womanly dignity\nwhich may repel, by refined reserve, the audacity of libertinism.(818) He\nwas forced, by old-fashioned scruple or imperial displeasure, to make an\nelaborate apology for the lubricities of the _Ars Amandi_.(819) The most\nwanton writer of the evil days shrinks from justifying adultery, and\nhardly ever fails to respect the unconscious innocence of girlhood. In the\ndays when, according to Juvenal, Roman matrons were eloping with\ngladiators, and visiting the slums of Rome, Tacitus and Favorinus were\npreaching the duties of a pure motherhood.(820) In the days when crowds\nwere gloating over the obscenities of pantomime, and aristocratic\ndinner-parties were applauding the ribaldry of Alexandrian songs,\nQuintilian was denouncing the corruption of youth by the sight of their\nfathers toying with mistresses and minions.(821) In an age when matrons of\nnoble rank were exposing themselves at the pleasure of an emperor, the\nphilosopher Musonius was teaching that all indulgence, outside the sober\nlimits of wedlock, was a gross, animal degradation of human dignity.(822)\nAnd it is thus we may balance Juvenal and Martial on the one side and\nPliny on the other. The gloomy or prurient satirist gives us a picture of\nideal baseness; the gentle and charitable aristocrat opens before us a\nsociety in which people are charmingly refined, and perhaps a little too\ngood. Yet it is said with truth that an age should be judged by its ideals\nof goodness rather than by its moral aberrations. And certain it is that\nthe age of Pliny and Tacitus and Quintilian had a high moral ideal, even\nthough it was also the age of Domitian. The old Roman character, whatever\npessimists, ancient or modern, may say, was a stubborn type, which\npropagated itself over all the West, and survived the Western Empire. It\nis safe to believe that there was in Italy and Gaul and Spain many a\n_grand seigneur_ of honest, regular life, virtuous according to his\nlights, like Pliny\u2019s uncle, or his Spurinna, or Verginius Rufus, or\nCorellius. There were certainly many wedded lives as pure and\nself-sacrificing as those of the elder Arria and Caecina Paetus, or of\nCalpurnia and Pliny.(823) There were homes like those at Fr\u00e9jus,(824) or\nComo, or Brescia,(825) in which boys and girls were reared in a refined\nand severe simplicity, which even improved upon the tradition of the\ngolden age of Rome. And, as will be seen in a later chapter, many a brief\nstone record remains which shows that, even in the world of slaves and\nfreedmen, there were always in the darkest days crowds of humble people,\nwith honest, homely ideals, and virtuous family affection, proud of their\nindustries, and sustaining one another by help and kindness.\n\nIn this sounder class of Roman society, it will be found that the saving\nor renovating power was, not so much any religious or philosophic impulse,\nas the wholesome influence, which never fails from age to age, of family\nduty and affection, reinforced, especially in the higher ranks, by a long\ntradition of Roman dignity and self-respect, and by the simple cleanness\nand the pieties of country life. The life of the blameless circle of\naristocrats which Pliny determined to preserve for the eyes of posterity,\nseems to be sometimes regarded as the result of a sudden transformation, a\nrebound from the frantic excesses of the time of the Claudian Caesars to\nthe simpler and severer mode of life of which Vespasian set a powerful\nexample. That there was such a change of moral tone, especially in the\nclass surrounding the court, partly caused by financial exhaustion, partly\nby the introduction of new men from the provinces into the ranks of the\nSenate, is certified by the supreme authority of Tacitus.(826) Yet we\nshould remember that men like Agricola, the father-in-law of Tacitus, or\nVerginius Rufus, or Fabatus, the grandfather of Pliny\u2019s wife, or the elder\nPliny, and many another, were not converted prodigals. They knew how to\nreconcile, by quietude or politic deference, the dignity of Roman virtue\nwith a discreet acquiescence even in the excesses of despotism. The\nfortunes of many of them remained unimpaired. The daily life of men like\nthe elder Pliny and Spurinna, is distinguished by a virtuous calm, an\nalmost painful monotony of habit, in which there seems to have been\nnothing to reform except, perhaps, a certain moral rigidity.(827) Above\nall, and surely it is the most certain proof and source of the moral\nsoundness of any age, the ideal of womanhood was still high, and it was\neven then not seldom realised. There may have been many who justified the\ncomplaint of moralists that mothers did not guard with vigilant care the\npurity of their children. But there were women of the circle of Tacitus\nand Pliny as spotless as the half-legendary Lucretia, as they were far\nmore accomplished, and probably far more charming. It is often said that\nwomen sink or rise according to the level of the men with whom they are\nlinked. If that be true, there must have been many good men in the days of\nthe Flavian dynasty.\n\nThe younger Pliny, whose name, before his adoption, was Publius Caecilius\nSecundus,(828) was descended from families which had been settled at Como\nsince the time of the first Caesar.(829) They belonged to the local\naristocracy, and possessed estates and villas around the lake. Pliny\u2019s\nfather, who had held high municipal office, died early, but the boy had\nthe great advantage of the guardianship of Verginius Rufus, for whose\ncharacter and achievements his ward felt the profoundest reverence.(830)\nThat great soldier had been governor of Upper Germany at the close of\nNero\u2019s reign, and, with a deference to old constitutional principles,\nwhich Pliny must have admired, had twice, at the peril of his life,\nrefused to receive the imperial place at the hands of his clamorous\nlegions.(831) Pliny was born in 61 or 62 A.D., the time which saw the\ndeath of Burrus, the retirement of Seneca from public life, and the\nmarriage of Nero with Poppaea.(832) His infancy therefore coincided with\nthe last and wildest excesses of the Neronian tyranny. But country places\nlike Como felt but little of the shock of these moral earthquakes. There\nwas no school in Como till one was founded by Pliny\u2019s own generosity.(833)\nBut the boy had probably, in his early years, the care of his uncle, the\nauthor of the _Natural History_, who, during the worst years of the\nTerror, was living, like many others, in studious retirement on his\nestates.(834) The uncle and nephew were men of very different temperament,\nbut there can be little doubt that the character and habits of the older\nman profoundly influenced the ideals of the younger. The elder Pliny would\nhave been an extraordinary character even in a puritan age; he seems\nalmost a miracle in the age of the Claudian Caesars. He was born in 23\nA.D., in the reign of Tiberius; and his early youth and manhood cover the\nreigns of Caligula and Claudius. He was only 32 when Nero came to the\nthrone. He returned to Rome in 71 to hold a high place in the councils of\nVespasian.(835) That more than monastic asceticism, that jealous hoarding\nof every moment,(836) that complete indifference to ordinary pleasures, in\ncomparison with the duty, or the ambition, of transmitting to future ages\nthe accumulations of learned toil, is a curious contrast to the Gargantuan\nfeasts or histrionic aestheticism which were the fashion in the circle of\nthe Claudian Emperors. The younger Pliny has left us a minute account of\nhis uncle\u2019s routine of life, and justly adds that the most intense\nliterary toil might seem mere idleness in comparison.(837) His studies\noften began soon after midnight, broken by an official visit to the\nemperor before dawn. After administrative work was over, the remainder of\nthe day was spent in reading or writing. Even in the bath or on a journey,\nthis literary industry was never interrupted. A reader or amanuensis was\nalways at hand to save the moments that generally are allowed to slip away\nto waste. He tells Titus in his preface that he had consulted 2000 volumes\nfor his _Natural History_.(838) The 160 volumes of closely written notes,\nwhich the austere enthusiast could have sold once for \u00a33500, might have\nchallenged the industry of a Casaubon or a Mommsen.\n\nThe laborious intensity of the elder Pliny was probably unrivalled in his\nday. But the moral tone, the severe self-restraint, the contempt for the\nsensual, or even the comfortable, side of life, the plain unspeculative\nstoicism, was a tone which, from many indications in the younger Pliny and\nin the other literature of the time, appears to have been not so rare as\nthe reader of Juvenal or Martial might suspect. A book like the Caesars of\nSuetonius, concentrating attention on the life of the emperor and his\nimmediate circle, is apt to suggest misleading conclusions as to the\ncondition of society at large. The old Roman character, perhaps the\nstrongest and toughest national character ever developed, was an enduring\ntype, and its true home was in the atmosphere of quiet country places in\nnorthern or central Italy, where the round of rural labour and simple\npleasures reproduced the environment in which it first took form. We have\nglimpses of many of these nurseries or retreats of old-fashioned virtue in\nPliny\u2019s Letters. Brescia and Padua, in the valley of the Po, were\nespecially noted for frugality and severity.(839) And it was from among\nthe youth of Brescia that Pliny suggested a husband for the daughter of\nthe stoic champion, Arulenus Rusticus. There must have been many a home,\nlike those of Spurinna, or Corellius Rufus, or Fabatus,(840) or the poet\nPersius, where, far from the weary conventionality of the capital, the\nrage for wealth, the rush of vulgar self-assertion, there reigned the\ntranquil and austere ideal of a life dedicated to higher ends than the\nlusts of the flesh, or the ghoul-like avarice that haunted death-beds.\nThere are youths and maidens in the portrait-gallery of Pliny whose\ninnocence was guarded by good women as pure and strong as those matrons\nwho nursed the stern, unbending soldiers of the Samnite and Punic\nwars.(841)\n\nThe great struggle in which the legions of the East and West met again,\nand yet again, in the valley of the Po, probably did not much disturb the\nquiet homes on lake Como. The close of that awful conflict gave the world\nten years of quiet and reformation, which were a genial atmosphere for the\nformation of many characters like Pliny\u2019s. The reign of the Flavians was\nushered in by the mystery and glamour of Eastern superstition, by oracles\non Mount Carmel and miracles at Alexandria.(842) But the plain Sabine\nsoldier, who was the saviour of the Roman State, brought to his momentous\ntask a clear unsophisticated good sense, with no trace of that crapulous\nexcitement which had alternated between the heroics of spurious art and\nthe lowest bohemianism. Vespasian, although he was not a figure to strike\nthe imagination, was yet, if we think of the abyss from which, by his\nsingle strength, he rescued the Rome world,(843) undoubtedly one of the\ngreatest of the emperors. And his biographer, with an unusual tact,\nsuggests what was probably one secret of his strength. Vespasian regularly\nvisited the old farmhouse at Reate which was the cradle of his race.\nNothing in the old place was ever changed. And, on holidays and\nanniversaries the emperor never failed to drink from the old silver goblet\nwhich his grandmother had used.(844) The strength and virtue of the Latin\nrace lay, not in religion or philosophy, but in the family pieties and\ndevotion to the State. Vespasian found it urgent to bring order into the\nnational finances, which had been reduced to chaos by the wild\nextravagance of his predecessors, and to recruit the Senate, which had\nbeen more than decimated by proscription, confiscation, and vicious\nself-abandonment.(845) In performing his task, he did not shrink from the\ncharge of cheese-paring, just as he did not dread the unpopularity of\nfresh taxation.(846) But he could be liberal as well as parsimonious. He\nrestored many of the ancient temples, even in country places.(847) He made\ngrants to senators whose fortunes had decayed or had been wasted.(848) He\nspent great sums on colossal buildings and on amusements for the\npeople.(849) But the most singular and interesting trait in this\nremarkable man is that, with no pretensions to literary or artistic\nculture, he was the first Caesar who gave a fixed endowment to professors\nof the liberal arts, and that he was the founder of that public system of\neducation(850) which, for good or evil, produced profound effects on Roman\ncharacter and intellect down to the end of the Western Empire. His motive\nwas not, as some have suggested, to bring literature into thraldom to the\nState. He was really making himself the organ of a great intellectual\nmovement. For, while the vast field of administration absorbed much of the\nenergy of the cultivated class, the decay of free institutions had left a\ngreat number with only a shadow of political interest, and the mass of\nunoccupied talent had to find some other scope for its energies. It found\nit for ages, till the end of the Western Empire, in fugitive and ephemeral\ncomposition, or in the more ephemeral displays of the rhetorical\nclass-room.(851) Vespasian perhaps did a greater service in renovating the\nupper class of Rome by the introduction of many new men from the\nprovinces, to fill the yawning gaps in senatorial and equestrian ranks.\nSpain contributed more than its fair share to the literature and\nstatesmanship of this period.(852) And one of the best and most\ndistinguished sons of that province who found a career at Rome, was the\nrhetor Quintilian.\n\nThe young Pliny, under his uncle\u2019s care, probably came to Rome not long\nafter Quintilian entered on his career of twenty years, as a teacher of\nrhetoric.(853) While the elder Pliny was one of Vespasian\u2019s trusted\nadvisers, and regularly visited the emperor on official business before\ndawn, his nephew was forming his taste and character under the greatest\nand best of Roman teachers. Quintilian left a deep impression on the\nyounger Pliny.(854) He made him a Ciceronian, and he fortified his\ncharacter. The master was one who believed that, in education, moral\ninfluence and environment are even more important than intellectual\nstimulus. He deplores the moral risks to which the careless,\nself-indulgent parent, or the corrupt tutor, may expose a boy in the years\nwhen the destiny of a life is decided for better or worse. Intellectual\nambition is good. But no brilliancy of intellect will compensate for the\nloss of the pure ingenuous peace of boyhood. This is the faith of\nQuintilian, and it was also the faith of his pupil.(855) And it may be\nthat the teaching of Quintilian had a larger share in forming the moral\nideals of the Antonine age in the higher ranks than many more definitely\nphilosophic guides, whose practice did not always conform to their\ndoctrine.\n\nQuintilian\u2019s first principle is that the orator must be a good man in the\nhighest and widest sense, and, although he will not refuse to borrow from\nthe philosophical schools, he yet boldly asserts the independence of the\noratorical art in moulding the character of the man who, as statesman or\nadvocate, will have constantly to appeal to moral principles.(856) This\ntone, combined with his own high example of seriousness, honour, and the\npurest domestic attachment,(857) must have had a powerful effect on the\nflower of the Roman youth, who were his pupils for nearly a generation.\nThere are none of his circle whose virtues Pliny extols more highly than\nthe men who had sat with him on the same benches, and who accompanied or\nfollowed one another in the career of public office. One of the dearest of\nthese youthful friends was Voconius Romanus, who, besides being a learned\npleader, with a keen and subtle intellect, was gifted with a singular\nsocial charm and sweetness of manner.(858) Another was Cornutus Tertullus,\nwho was bound to Pliny by closer ties of sympathy than any of his friends,\nand for whose purity of character he had a boundless admiration. They were\nalso united in the love and friendship of the best people of the\ntime.(859) They were official colleagues in the consulship, and in the\nprefecture of the treasury of Saturn. For another academic friend, Julius\nNaso, who had been his loyal supporter in all his work and literary\nambitions, he earnestly begs the aid of Fundanus, to secure him official\nadvancement.(860) Calestrius Tiro, who rose to be proconsul of the\nprovince of Baetica, must be included in this select company. He had\nserved with Pliny in the army of Syria, and had been his colleague in the\nquaestorship; they constantly visited one another at their country\nseats.(861) Such men, linked to one another by memories of boyhood and by\nthe cares of the same official career, must have been a powerful and\nsalutary element in social and political life at the opening of the\nAntonine age.\n\nIt is a curious thing that, while Pliny lived in the closest friendship\nwith the Stoic opposition of Domitian\u2019s reign, and has unbounded reverence\nfor its canonised saints, as we may call them, he shows few traces of any\nreal interest in speculative philosophy. Indeed, in one passage he\nconfesses that on such subjects he speaks as an amateur.(862) He probably\nthought, like his friend Tacitus, that philosophy was a thing to be taken\nin moderation by the true Roman. It was when he was serving on the staff\nin Asia that he formed a close friendship with Artemidorus, whom Musonius\nchose for his daughter\u2019s hand.(863) Pliny has not a word to say of his\nopinions, but he extols his simplicity and genuineness\u2014qualities, he adds,\nwhich you rarely find in the other philosophers of the day. It was at the\nsame time that he formed a friendship with the Stoic Euphrates. That\nphilosopher, who is so studiously maligned by Philostratus, was a heroic\nfigure in Pliny\u2019s eyes.(864) But what Pliny admires in him is not so much\nhis philosophy, as his grave ornate style, his pure character, which\nshowed none of that harsh and ostentatious severity which was then so\ncommon in his class. Euphrates is a polished gentleman after Pliny\u2019s own\nheart, tall and stately, with flowing hair and beard, a man who excites\nreverence but not fear, stern to vice, but gentle to the sinner. Pliny\nseems to have set little store by the formal preaching of philosophy. In a\nletter on the uses of sickness, he maintains that the moral lessons of the\nsick-bed are worth many formal disquisitions on virtue.(865)\n\nYet this man, apparently without the slightest taste for philosophic\ninquiry, or even for the homilies which, in his day, had taken the place\nof real speculation, had a profound veneration for the Stoic martyrs, and,\ntrue gentleman as he was, he risked his life in the times of the last\nTerror to befriend them. It needed both nerve and dexterity to be the\nfriend of philosophers in those days. In that perilous year, 93 A.D., when\nPliny was praetor,(866) the philosophers were banished from the city. Yet\nthe praetor visited Artemidorus in his suburban retreat, and, with his\nwonted generosity, he helped the philosopher to wipe out a heavy debt\nwhich he had contracted. One of Pliny\u2019s dearest friends was Junius\nMauricus, the brother of Arulenus Rusticus, who had been put to death by\nDomitian for writing a eulogy on Thrasea the Stoic saint, the champion of\nthe higher life in Nero\u2019s reign.(867) Junius Mauricus afterwards suffered\nexile himself in the same cause. He had charged himself with the care of\nhis martyred brother\u2019s children, and Pliny helped him to find a worthy\nhusband for the daughter of Rusticus.(868) With Fannia the widow of\nHelvidius, and the daughter of Thrasea, Pliny\u2019s intimacy seems to have\nbeen of the closest kind. From her he heard the tales, now too well worn,\nof the fierce firmness of the elder Arria in nerving her husband Paetus\nfor death, and of her own determined self-immolation.(869) The mother of\nFannia, the younger Arria, when Thrasea her husband was condemned to die\nin the reign of Nero, was only prevented from sharing his fate by the most\nearnest entreaties of her friends.(870) Fannia had followed Helvidius into\nexile in Nero\u2019s reign,(871) and again under Vespasian, when the\nphilosopher, with a petulance very unlike the reserve of Thrasea, brought\nhis fate upon himself by an insulting disregard of the emperor\u2019s dignity\nas first magistrate of the State, if not by revolutionary tendencies.(872)\nFannia seems to have inherited many of the great qualities of her father\nThrasea, the noblest and the wisest member of the Stoic opposition. He\nsprang from a district in Lombardy which was noted for its soundness and\ngravity of character. Unlike Paetus(873) and Helvidius, he never defied or\nintrigued against the emperor, even when the emperor was a Nero. And,\nthough he belonged to the austere circle of Persius, he did not disdain to\nsing in tragic costume, at a festival of immemorial antiquity, in his\nnative Patavium.(874) He performed his duties as senator with firm\ndignity, and yet with cautious tact. His worst political crime, and that\nwhich proved his ruin, was a severe reserve and a refusal to join in the\nshameful adulation of the matricide prince. He would not stoop to vote\ndivine honours to the adulteress Poppaea, and for three years he absented\nhimself from the Senate-house.(875) Yet, when the end came, he would not\nallow the fiery Arulenus Rusticus to imperil his future, by interposing\nhis veto as tribune.(876) His daughter Fannia was worthy of her\nillustrious descent. She showed all the fearless defiance of the elder\nArria, when she boldly admitted that she had asked Senecio to write her\nhusband\u2019s life, and she uttered no word to deprecate her doom. When all\nher property was confiscated, she carried the dangerous volume with her to\nher place of exile.(877) Yet this stern heroine had also the tenderer\nvirtues. She nursed her kinswoman Junia, one of the Vestals, through a\ndangerous fever, and caught the seeds of her own death from her charge.\nWith all her masculine firmness and courage, she had a sweetness and charm\nwhich made her not less loved than venerated. With her may be said to have\nexpired the peculiar tradition of a circle which, for three generations,\nand during the reigns of eight emperors, guarded, sometimes with dangerous\ndefiance, the old ideal of uncompromising virtue in the face of a brutal\nand vulgar materialism. It was the tradition which inspired the austere\ndetachment of the poetry of Persius, with its dim solemnity and obscure\ndepths, as of a sacred grove. These people were hard and stern to vicious\npower,(878) like our own Puritans of the seventeenth century. Like them\ntoo, they were exclusive and defiant, with the cold hauteur of a moral\naristocracy, a company of the elect, who would not even parley with evil,\nfor whom the issues of life and death were the only realities in a world\nhypnotised by the cult of the senses and the spell of tyranny. Their\nintense seriousness was a religion, although they had only the vaguest and\nmost arid conception of God, and the dimmest and least comforting\nconception of any future life. They seemed to perish as a little sect of\ntroublesome visionaries; and yet their spirit lived on, softened and\nsweetened, and passed into the great rulers of the Antonine age.\n\nBefore his formal period of military service as tribune of the 3rd Gallic\nlegion in Syria, Pliny had, in his nineteenth year, entered on that\nforensic career which was perhaps the greatest pride of his life.(879) He\npractised in the Centumviral court, which was chiefly occupied with\nquestions of property and succession. Occasionally he speaks with a\ncertain weariness of the trivial character of the cases in which he was\nengaged. But his general estimate is very different. The court is to him\nan arena worthy of the greatest talent and industry,(880) and the\nsuccessful pleader may win a fame which may entitle him to take rank with\nthe great orators of the past. Pliny, inspired by memories of Quintilian\u2019s\nlectures, has always floating before him the glory of Cicero.(881) He will\nprepare for publication a speech delivered in an obscure case about a\ndisputed will.(882) He is immensely proud of its subtlety and point, and\nthe sweep of its indignant or pathetic declamation, and he is not\nunwilling to believe his legal friends who compared it with the _De\nCorona_! The suppression of free political life, the absence of public\ninterests, and the extinction of the trade of the delator, left young men\nwith a passion for distinction few chances of gratifying it. The law\ncourts at any rate provided an audience, and the chance of momentary\nprominence. In the Letters of Pliny, we can see the young advocate pushing\nhis way through the dense masses of the crowded court, arriving at his\nplace with torn tunic, holding the attention of his audience for seven\nlong hours, and sitting down amid the applause even of the judges\nthemselves.(883) Calpurnia often arranged relays of messengers to bring\nher news of the success, from point to point, of one of her husband\u2019s\nspeeches.(884) Youths of the highest social rank\u2014a Salinator, or a\nUmmidius Quadratus\u2014threw themselves eagerly into the drudgery which might\nmake an ephemeral name.(885) Ambitious pretenders, with no talent or\nlearning, and arrayed perhaps in hired purple and jewels, like Juvenal\u2019s\nneedy lawyer, forced themselves on to the benches of the advocates, and\nengaged a body of claqueurs whose applause was purchased for a few\ndenarii.(886) Pliny has such a pride in this profession, he so idealises\nwhat must have been often rather humdrum work, that he feels a personal\npain at anything which seems to detract from the old-fashioned, leisurely\ndignity of the court. In his day the judges seem to have been becoming\nmore rapid and business-like in their procedure, and less inclined to\nallow the many _clepsydrae_ which men of Pliny\u2019s school demanded for the\ngradual development of all their rhetorical artifices. He regrets the good\nold times, when adjournments were freely granted,(887) and days would be\nspent on a case which was now despatched in as many hours. It is for this\nreason that he cannot conceal a certain admiration for Regulus, in other\nrespects, \u201cthe most detestable of bipeds\u201d but who redeemed his infamy by\nan enthusiasm and energy as an advocate which rivalled even that of Pliny.\n\nM. Aquilius Regulus, the prince of delators, and one of the great glories\nof the Roman bar in Domitian\u2019s reign, is a singular figure. His career and\ncharacter are a curious illustration of the social history of the times.\nRegulus was the son of a man who, in Nero\u2019s reign, had been driven into\nexile and ruined.(888) Bold, able, recklessly eager for wealth and\nnotoriety at any cost, as a mere youth he resolved to raise himself from\nobscure indigence, and soon became one of the most capable and dreaded\nagents of the tyranny. He gained an evil fame by the ruin of the great\nhouses of the Crassi and Orfiti. Lust of blood and greed of gain drove him\non to the wholesale destruction of innocent boys, noble matrons, and men\nof the most illustrious race. The cruelty of Nero was not swift enough to\nsatisfy him, and he called for the annihilation of the Senate at a stroke.\nHe rose rapidly to great wealth, honours were showered upon him, and,\nafter a prudent retirement in the reigns of Vespasian and Titus, he\nreached the pinnacle of his depraved ambition under Vespasian\u2019s cruel son.\nHe figures more than once in the poems of Martial, and always in the most\nfavourable light. His talent and eloquence, according to the poet, were\nonly equalled by his piety, and the special care of the gods had saved him\nfrom being buried under the ruins of a cloister which had suddenly fallen\nin.(889) He had estates at Tusculum, in Umbria and Etruria.(890) The\ncourts were packed when he rose to plead.(891) Unfortunately, the needy\npoet furnishes a certain key to all this flattery, when he thanks Regulus\nfor his presents, and then begs him to buy them back.(892) It is after\nDomitian\u2019s death that we meet Regulus in Pliny\u2019s pages. The times are\nchanged, the delator\u2019s day is over, and Regulus is a humbler man. But he\nis still rich, courted, and feared; he is still a great power in the law\ncourts. With a weak voice, a bad memory, and hesitating utterance,(893) by\nsheer industry and determination he had made himself a powerful speaker,\nwith a style of his own, sharp, pungent, brutally incisive, ruthlessly\nsacrificing elegance to point.(894) He belonged to the new school, and\nsometimes sneered at Pliny\u2019s affectation of the grand Ciceronian\nmanner.(895) Yet to Pliny\u2019s eyes, his earnest strenuousness in his\nprofession redeems some of his vices. He insists on having ample time to\ndevelop his case.(896) He appears in the morning pale with study, wearing\na white patch on his forehead. He has consulted the diviners as to the\nsuccess of his pleadings.(897) It is a curious sign of the times that this\ngreat advocate, who already possessed an enormous fortune, was a\nlegacy-hunter of the meanest sort. He actually visited, on her death-bed,\nVerania, the widow of that Piso, the adopted son of Galba, over whose\nmurder Regulus had savagely gloated, and by telling her that the stars\npromised a hope of recovery, he obtained a place in her will. His mourning\nfor his son displayed all the feverish extravagance and grandiose\neccentricity of a true child of the Neronian age.(898) The boy\u2019s ponies\nand dogs and pet birds were slaughtered over his pyre. Countless pictures\nand statues of him were ordered. His memoir was read by the father to a\ncrowded audience, and a thousand copies of it were sent broadcast over the\nprovinces.(899) In Regulus we seem to see the type of character which, had\nfortune raised him to the throne, would have made perhaps a saner\nCaligula, and an even more eccentric Nero.\n\nThe struggles of the law courts were idealised by Pliny, and their\ntransient triumphs seemed to him to match the glory of the Philippics or\nthe Verrines. Yet, to do him justice, Pliny had sometimes a truer idea of\nthe foundations of lasting fame. The secret of immortality, the one chance\nof escaping oblivion, is to leave your thought embalmed in choice and\ndistinguished literary form, which coming ages will not willingly let\ndie.(900) This, probably the only form of immortality in which Pliny\nbelieved, is the great motive for literary labour. The longing to be\nremembered was the most ardent passion of the Roman mind in all ages and\nin all ranks, from the author of the _Agricola_ to the petty artisan, who\ncommemorated the homely virtues of his wife for the eyes of a distant age,\nand made provision for the annual feast and the tribute of roses to the\ntomb. Of that immense literary ambition which Pliny represented, and which\nhe considered it a duty to foster, only a small part has reached its goal.\nThe great mass of these eager litterateurs have altogether vanished, or\nremain as mere shadowy names in Martial or Statius or Pliny.\n\nThe poems of Martial and Statius leave the impression that, in the reign\nof Domitian, the interest in poetical literature was keen and widely\ndiffused, and that, besides the poets by profession, there were crowds of\namateurs who dabbled in verse. The _Silvae_ transport us into a charming,\nif rather luxurious world, where men like Atedius Melior or Pollius amuse\nthemselves with dilettante composition among their gardens and marbles on\nthe bays of Campania.(901) Martial has a host of friends similarly\nengaged, and the versatility of some of them is suspiciously wide. An old\nArdelio is twitted by Martial with his showy and superficial displays in\ndeclamation and history, in plays and epigrams, in grammar and\nastronomy.(902) Canius Rufus, his countryman from Gades, Varro, Bassus,\nBrutianus, Cirinius, have all an extraordinary dexterity in almost every\nbranch of poetical composition. Martial is too keen a critic not to see\nthe fugitive character of much of this amateur literature. Like Juvenal,\nhe scoffs at the thin talent which concealed its feebleness behind the\npomp and faded splendour of epic or tragic tradition.(903) He roughly\ntells the whole versifying crowd that genius alone will live in coming\nages. The purchased applause of the recitation hall merely gratifies for\nan hour the vanity of the literary trifler. It is a pity for his fame that\nMartial did not always maintain this tone of sincerity. He can at times\nsell his flattery to the basest and most stupid. He is capable of implying\na comparison of the frigid pedantry of Silius Italicus to the majesty of\nVirgil.(904)\n\nPliny was a friend and admirer of Martial, and, with his usual generous\nhand, he made the poet a present when he left Rome for ever to pass his\nlast years at Bilbilis.(905) The needy epigrammatist was only a distant\nobserver, or hanger-on of that world of wealth and refinement in which\nPliny was a conspicuous figure. But from both Pliny and Martial we get\nvery much the same impression of the literary movement in the reign of\nDomitian. Pliny himself is perhaps its best representative. He is a true\nson of the Roman schools, as they had been revived and strengthened by\nVespasian, for a life of many generations. Pliny does not think slightly\nof the literary efforts of his own day: some of them he even overrates.\nBut already the Roman mind had bent its neck to that thraldom to the past,\nto that routine of rhetorical discipline, which, along with other causes,\nproduced the combination of ambitious effort and mediocre performance\nthat, for the last three centuries of the Empire, is the characteristic of\nall literary culture. From his great teacher Quintilian Pliny had imbibed\na profound reverence for Cicero.(906) Alike in his career of honours and\nhis literary pursuits, he loves to think that he is treading in the great\norator\u2019s footsteps. In answer to a taunt of Regulus, he once boldly avowed\nhis preference for the Ciceronian oratory to that of his own day.\nDemosthenes is also sometimes his model, though he feels keenly the\ndifference that separates them.(907) Indeed his reverence for Greece as\nthe mother of letters, art, and civic life was one of Pliny\u2019s sincerest\nand most honourable feelings. To a man who had been appointed to high\noffice in Greece he preaches, in earnest tones, the duty of reverence for\nthat gifted race whose age was consecrated by the memories of its glorious\nprime.(908) Pliny\u2019s Greek studies must have begun very early. At the age\nof fourteen he had written a Greek tragedy, for which, however, he\nmodestly does not claim much merit.(909) He had always a certain taste for\npoetry, but it seems to have been merely the taste created or enforced by\nthe constant study of the poets under the grammarian. Once, while detained\nby bad weather on his way back from military service in Asia, he amused\nhimself with composing in elegiac and heroic verse.(910) Later in his\ncareer, he published a volume of poems in hendecasyllabic metre, written\non various occasions. But there was no inspiration behind these\nconventional exercises. He was chiefly moved to write in verse, as he\nna\u00efvely confesses, by the example of the great orators who beguiled their\nleisure in this way. Among his published poems there were some with a\nflavour of Catullan lubricity, which offended or astonished some of his\nseverer friends, who thought such doubtful lightness unworthy of a grave\ncharacter and a great position.(911) No better illustration could be found\nof Pliny\u2019s incorrigible conventionality in such things than the defence\nwhich he makes of his suspected verses to Titius Ariston.(912) It is to\nPliny not a question of morals or propriety. The ancient models are to be\nfollowed, not only in their elevated, but in their looser moods. The case\nseems to be closed when Pliny can point to similar literary aberrations in\na long line of great men from Varro and Virgil and Cicero to Verginius\nRufus and the divine Nerva.(913)\n\nPliny, however, though vain of his dexterity in these trifles, probably\ndid not rate them very highly. It was to oratorical fame that his ambition\nwas directed. He was dissatisfied with the eloquence of his own day,\nwhich, to use the words of Regulus, sprang at the throat of its subject,\nand he avowed himself an imitator of Cicero. His speeches, even for the\ncentumviral court, were worked up with infinite care, although with too\nself-conscious an aim to impress an audience. We can hardly imagine Cicero\nor Demosthenes coldly balancing their tropes and figures after the fashion\nof Pliny. When the great oratorical effort was over, the labour was\nrenewed, in order to make the speech worthy of the eyes of posterity. It\nwas revised and polished, and submitted to the scrutiny of critical\nreaders for suggestions of emendation.(914) Pliny was probably the first\nto give readings of speeches to long-suffering friends. We hear with a\nshudder that the recital of the _Panegyric_ was spread over three\ndays!(915) The other speeches on which Pliny lavished so much labour and\nthought, have perished, as they probably deserved to perish. The\n_Panegyric_ was preserved, and became the parent and model of the\nprostituted rhetoric of the Gallic renaissance in the fourth century.(916)\nPliny was by no means a despicable literary critic, when he was not paying\nthe tribute of friendly flattery which social tyranny then exacted. He\ncould sometimes be honestly reserved in his appreciation of a friend\u2019s\ndull literary efforts.(917) But in his ideals of oratory, he seems to be\nhopelessly wrong. There are some terse and epigrammatic sentences in the\n_Panegyric_, which redeem it by their strong sincerity. But Pliny\u2019s canons\nof oratorical style would have excited the ridicule of his great models,\nwho were thinking of their goal, and not measuring every pace as they\nstrained towards it. Pliny\u2019s theory that the mere length of a speech is a\ngreat element in its excellence, that swift directness is inartistic, that\nlingering diffuseness is an oratorical charm, that laboured manufacture of\nturgid phrases may produce the effect of the impetuous rush of Demosthenes\nand Cicero in their moments of inspiration, makes us rather glad, who love\nhim, that we have not more of Pliny\u2019s oratory.(918)\n\nIt is by his letters that Pliny has lived, and will live on, so long as\nmen care to know the inner life of the great ages that have gone before.\nThe criticism, which is so quick to seize the obvious weaknesses of the\nauthor of a priceless picture of ancient society, seems to be a little\nungrateful. We could forgive almost any failing or affectation in one who\nhad left us a similar revelation of society when M. Aurelius was holding\nback the Germans on the Danube, or when Probus was shattering the invaders\nof the third century. The letters of Cicero offer an apparently obvious\ncomparison, which may be used to the detriment of Pliny. Yet the\ncomparison is rather inept. Cicero was a man of affairs in the thick of a\ngreat revolution, and his letters are invaluable to the student of\npolitics at a great crisis in history. But in the calm of Trajan\u2019s reign,\na letter-writer had to seek other subjects of interest than the fortunes\nof the state. Literature, criticism, the beauties of nature, the simple\ncharm of country life, the thousand trivial incidents and eccentricities\nof an over-ripe society in the capital of the world, furnished a ready pen\nand a genial imagination, which could idealise its surroundings, with\nample materials. Pliny is by some treated as a mediocrity; but, like our\nown Horace Walpole, he had the keen sense to see that social routine could\nbe made interesting, and that the man who had the skill to do so might\nmake himself famous. He was genuinely interested in his social\nenvironment. And intense interest in one\u2019s subject is one great secret of\nliterary success. Pliny had also the instinct that, if a work is to live,\nit must have a select distinction of style, which may be criticised, but\nwhich cannot be ignored. He had the laudable ambition to put his thoughts\nin a form of artistic grace which may make even commonplace attractive. So\ngood a judge as the late Mr. Paley did not hesitate to put the Latinity of\nPliny on the level of that of Cicero. Pliny\u2019s Letters, perhaps even more\nthan the masterpieces of the Augustine age, fascinated the taste of the\nfourth and fifth centuries. They were the models of Symmachus and\nSidonius, who tried, but in very different fashion, to do for their age\nwhat Pliny did for his.(919)\n\nLike his imitators, Sidonius and Symmachus, Pliny intended his Letters to\ngo down to the future as a masterpiece of style, and as a picture of his\nage. We know that the letters of Symmachus were carefully preserved in\nduplicate by his scribes, probably by his own instructions, although they\nwere edited and published by his son only after his death.(920) Pliny,\nlike Sidonius, gave his Letters to the public in successive portions\nduring his life.(921) Like Sidonius too, he felt that he had not the\nsustained power to write a consecutive history of his time and the Letters\nof both are probably far more valuable. Pliny\u2019s first book opens with a\nkind of dedication to Septicius Clarus, who was the patron of Suetonius,\nand who rose to be praetorian prefect under Hadrian.(922) Pliny appears to\ndisclaim any order or principle of arrangement in these books, but this is\nthe device of an artistic negligence. Yet it has been proved by the prince\nof European scholars in our day that both as to date and subject matter,\nPliny\u2019s Letters reveal signs of the most careful arrangement. The books\nwere published separately, a common practice down to the end of Roman\nliterary history. The same subject reappears in the same book or the\nnext.(923) Groups of letters dealing with the same matter are found in\ntheir natural order in successive books. The proof is made even clearer by\nthe silence or the express references to Pliny\u2019s family relations.\nFinally, the older men, who fill the stage in the earlier Letters,\ndisappear towards the end; while a younger generation, a Salinator or a\nUmmidius Quadratus, are only heard of in the later. Men of Pliny\u2019s own\nage, like Tacitus or Cornutus Tertullus, meet us from first to last. The\ndates at which the various books were published have been fixed with\ntolerable certainty. It is enough for our present purpose to say that the\nearliest letter belongs to the reign of Nerva, and the ninth book was\nprobably given to the world a year or two before the writer was appointed\nby Trajan to the office of imperial legate of Bithynia.(924)\n\nIt is easy, as we have said, and apparently congenial to some writers, to\ndwell on the vanity and self-complacency of the writer of these letters.\nBy some he seems to be regarded chiefly as a _poseur_. To discover the\nweaknesses of Pliny is no great feat of criticism: they are on the\nsurface. But \u201csecurus judicat orbis terrarum,\u201d and Pliny has borne the\nscrutiny of the great judge. Men of his own race and age, who spoke and\nwrote the most finished Latin, awarded him the palm of exquisite style.\nBut Pliny has many qualities of the heart, which should cover a multitude\nof sins, even more serious than any with which he is charged. He had the\ngreat gift of loyal friendship, and he had its usual reward in a multitude\nof friends. It has been regretted that Pliny does not deal with serious\nquestions of politics and philosophy, that his Letters rather skim the\nsurface of social life, and leave its deeper problems untouched. Pliny\nhimself would probably have accepted this criticism as a compliment. The\nmass of men are little occupied with insoluble questions. And Pliny has\nprobably deserved better of posterity by leaving us a vivid picture of the\nordinary life of his time or of his class, rather than an analysis of its\nspiritual distresses and maladies. We have enough of that in Seneca, in M.\nAurelius, and in Lucian. Of the variety and vividness of Pliny\u2019s sketches\nof social life there can never be any question. But our gratitude will be\nincreased if we compare his Letters with the collections of his imitators,\nSymmachus and Sidonius, whose arid pages are seldom turned by any but a\nfew curious and weary students. Martial, in his way, is perhaps even more\nclear-cut and minute in his portraiture. But Martial is essentially a wit\nof the town, viewing its vices, follies, and fashions with the eye of a\nkeen, but rather detached observer. In reading Pliny\u2019s Letters, we feel\nourselves introduced into the heart of that society in its better hours;\nand, above all, we seem to be transported to those quiet provincial towns\nand secluded country seats where, if life was duller and tamer than it was\nin the capital, the days passed in a quiet content, unsolicited by the\nstormier passions, in orderly refinement, in kindly relations with country\nneighbours, and amid the unfading charm of old-world pieties and the\nwitchery of nature.\n\nPliny has also done a great service in preserving a memorial of the\nliterary tone and habits of his time. Even in that age of fertile\nproduction and too enthusiastic appreciation, Pliny, like Seneca and\nStatius, has a feeling that the love for things of the mind was\nwaning.(925) And he deemed it an almost religious duty, as Symmachus and\nSidonius did more than three centuries after him, to arouse the flagging\ninterest in letters, and to reward even third-rate literary effort with\nexuberant praise. He avows that it is a matter of duty to admire and\nvenerate any performance in a field so difficult as that of letters.(926)\nYet Pliny was not by any means devoid of critical honesty and acumen. He\ncould be a severe judge of his own style. He expects candid criticism from\nhis friends, and receives it with gratitude and good temper.(927) This is\nto him, indeed, the practical purpose of readings before final\npublication. He made emendations and excisions in the Histories of\nTacitus, which the great author had submitted for his revision.(928) In\nhis correspondence with Tacitus, there is a curious mixture of vanity\nalong with a clear recognition of his friend\u2019s immense superiority of\ngenius, and a sure prescience of his immortal fame. He is proud to hear\ntheir names coupled as chiefs of contemporary literature,(929) and he\ncherishes the hope that, united by loyal friendship in life, they will go\ndown together to a remote future. When, in the year 106, Tacitus had asked\nhim for an account of the elder Pliny\u2019s death, in the great eruption of\nVesuvius, Pliny expressed a firm belief that the book on which Tacitus was\nthen engaged was destined to an enduring fame.(930) He was not quite so\nconfident as to the immortality of Martial\u2019s work,(931) although he\nappreciates to the full Martial\u2019s brilliant and pungent wit. On the other\nhand, writing to a friend about the death of Silius Italicus, he frankly\nrecognises that the Epic of the Punic War is a work of industry rather\nthan of genius.(932) Yet he cannot allow the author of this dull\nmechanical poem to pass away without some record of his career.(933) The\ndeath at seventy-five of the last surviving consular of the Neronian age,\nof the consul in whose year of office the tyranny of Nero closed, inspired\na feeling of pathos which was probably genuine, in spite of the rather\npompous and pedantic expression of it. And although he wrote the _Punica_,\na work which was almost buried till the fifteenth century,(934) Silius was\nprobably a not uninteresting person. He had been a delator under Nero, and\nhad enjoyed the friendship of Vitellius, but he knew how to redeem his\ncharacter under the Flavian dynasty, and he had filled the proconsulate of\nAsia with some credit.(935) Henceforth he enjoyed the lettered ease and\nsocial deference which were the privilege of his class for centuries. He\nretired finally to the shores of Campania, where, moving from one villa to\nanother, and surrounding himself with books and gems of art, his life\nflowed away undisturbed by the agony of Rome in the last terror of the\nCaesars. Among his many estates he was the proud owner of one of Cicero\u2019s\nvillas, and of the ground where Virgil sleeps. He used to keep the great\npoet\u2019s birthday with a scrupulous piety, and he always approached his tomb\nas a holy place. This apparently placid and fortunate life was, like so\nmany in those days, ended by a voluntary death.(936) Silius Italicus, in\nhis life and in his end, is a true type of a generation which could bend\nbefore the storm of despotism, and save itself often by ignominious arts,\nwhich could recover its dignity and self-respect in the pursuit of\nliterary ideals, and, at the last, assert the right to shake off the\nburden of existence when it became too heavy.\n\nPliny\u2019s theory of life is clearly stated in the Letters, and it was\nevidently acted on by a great number of the class to which he\nbelonged.(937) The years of vigorous youth should be given to the service\nof the state, in pursuing the well-marked and carefully-graduated career\nof honours, or in the strenuous oratorical strife of the law courts. The\nleisure of later years might be portioned out between social duty, the\npleasures or the cares of a rural estate, and the cultivation of literary\ntaste by reading and imitation of the great masters. The last was the most\nimperious duty of all, for those with any literary gifts, because charm of\nstyle gives the one hope of surviving the wreck of time;(938) for mere\ncultivated facility, as the most refined and creditable way of filling up\nthe vacant spaces of life. Even if lasting fame was beyond one\u2019s reach, it\nwas something to be able to give pleasure to an audience of cultivated\nfriends at a reading, and to enjoy the triumph of an hour. There must have\nbeen many a literary coterie who, if they fed one another\u2019s vanity, also\nencouraged literary ideals, and hinted gentle criticism,(939) in that\npolite delicacy of phrase in which the Roman was always an adept. One of\nthese literary circles stands out in Pliny\u2019s pages. At least two of its\nmembers had held great office. Arrius Antoninus, the maternal grandfather\nof the Emperor Antoninus Pius,(940) had twice borne the consulship with\nantique dignity, and shown himself a model governor as proconsul of\nAsia.(941) He was devoted to Greek literature, and seems to have preferred\nto compose in that language. We need not accept literally Pliny\u2019s praises\nof his Atticism, and of the grace and sweetness of his Greek epigrams. But\nhe seems to have had a facility which Pliny tortured his ingenuity in vain\nto imitate with the poorer resources of the Latin tongue.(942) Among the\nfriends of Antoninus was Vestricius Spurinna, who had defended Placentia\nfor Otho, who was twice consul under Domitian, and was selected by Trajan\nto command the troops in a campaign in Germany.(943) This dignified\nveteran, who had passed apparently untainted through the reigns of the\nworst emperors, varied and lightened the ordinary routine of his old age\nby the composition of lyrics, both in Greek and Latin, which seemed to his\nadmirers to have a singular sweetness. Sentius Augurinus, a familiar\nfriend of the two consulars, was also a brilliant verse writer,(944) who\ncould enthral Pliny by a recitation lasting for three days, although the\nfact that Pliny was the subject of one of the poems may account for the\npatience or the pleasure. One of Pliny\u2019s dearest friends was Passennus\nPaullus, who claimed kindred with the poet Propertius, and, at any rate,\ncame from the same town in Umbria. Passennus has been cruelly treated by\nTime, if his lyric efforts recalled, as we are asked to believe, the\nliterary graces of his ancestor, and even those of Horace.(945) Vergilius\nRomanus devoted himself to comedy, and was thought to have reproduced not\nunworthily the delicate charms of Menander and Terence, as well as the\nscathing invective of older Greek masters of the art.(946) But there were\nothers of Pliny\u2019s circle who essayed a loftier and weightier style.\nProbably the foremost of these was Titinius Capito, who, as an inscription\nrecords,(947) had held high civil office under Domitian, Nerva, and\nTrajan. He was an enthusiastic patron of letters, and readily offered his\nhalls to literary friends for their recitations, which he attended with\npunctilious politeness. Cherishing the memory of the great men of the\nRepublic, the Cassii, the Bruti, and the Catos, he composed a work on the\ndeath of the noble victims of the Terror.(948) He tried in vain to draw\nPliny into the field of historical composition.(949) But the man who\nthought more of style and graceful charity than of truth, was not the man\nto write the history of such a time. He has done a much greater service in\nproviding priceless materials for the reconstruction of its social\nhistory. Caninius Rufus was a neighbour of Pliny at Como.(950) He was one\nof those for whom the charms of country life had a dangerous seduction.\nHis villa, with its colonnades, \u201cwhere it was always spring,\u201d the shining\nlevels of the lake beneath his verandah, the water course with its emerald\nbanks, the baths and spacious halls, all these delights seem to have\nrelaxed the literary energy and ambition of their master. Caninius\nmeditated the composition of a Greek epic on the Dacian wars of\nTrajan.(951) But he was probably one of those lingering, dilatory writers\nwho meet us in Martial,(952) waiting for the fire from heaven which never\ncomes. The intractable roughness of barbarian names, which, as Pliny\nsuggests, might have been eluded by a Homeric licence in quantity, was\nprobably not the only difficulty of Caninius.\n\nAmong the literary friends of Pliny, a much more important person than\nCaninius was Suetonius, but Suetonius was apparently long paralysed by the\nsame cautious hesitation to challenge the verdict of the public. A younger\nman than Pliny,(953) Suetonius was one of his most intimate friends. They\nboth belonged to that circle which nursed the senatorial tradition and the\nhatred of the imperial tyrants.(954) The life of Suetonius was not very\neffectual or brilliant, from a worldly point of view. Although born within\nthe rank to which every distinction was open,(955) he was a man of modest\nand retiring tastes, devoted to quiet research, and destitute of the eager\nambition and vigorous self-assertion which are necessary for splendid\nsuccess. He was probably for some years a professor of grammar.(956) He\nmade a half-hearted attempt to gain a footing at the bar. In 101 A.D. he\nobtained a military tribunate, through Pliny\u2019s influence, but speedily\nrenounced his command.(957) Henceforth he devoted himself entirely to that\nhistorical research, which, if it has not won for him any dazzling fame,\nhas made historical students, in spite of some reservations as to his\nsources, his debtors for all time. Pliny had the greatest esteem for\nSuetonius, and was always ready to befriend him, whether it were in the\npurchase of a quiet little retreat near Rome,(958) or in obtaining for the\nchildless antiquary the _Jus trium liberorum_ from Trajan.(959) The two\nmen were bound to one another by many tastes and sympathies, not the least\nstrong being a curious superstition, which infected, as we shall see in a\nlater chapter, even the most vigorous minds of that age. Suetonius had\nonce a dream which seemed to portend failure in some legal cause in which\nhe was engaged. He sought the aid of Pliny to obtain an adjournment. Pliny\ndoes not question the reality of such warnings, but merely suggests a more\ncheering interpretation of the vision.(960) Although devoted to research,\nand a most laborious student, the biographer of the Caesars was strangely\ntardy in letting his productions see the light. In 106, he had been long\nengaged on a work, which was probably the _De Viris Illustribus_.(961)\nPliny assailed him with bantering reproaches on his endless use of the\nfile, and begs him to publish without delay. From several indications, it\nappears that the lingering volume did not appear till 113.(962) It was not\ntill the year 118, when Hadrian arrived from the East after his accession,\nthat Suetonius attained the rank of one of the imperial\nsecretaryships.(963) Pliny in all probability had died some years before\nthe elevation of his friend.\n\nBut although the dawn of a new age of milder and less suspicious\ngovernment had, for the first time since Augustus, left men free to\ncompose a true record of the past, and even to vilify the early\nCaesars,(964) the great mass of cultivated men in Pliny\u2019s time, as in the\ndays of Ausonius and Sidonius, were devoted to poetry. The chief cause in\ngiving this direction to the Roman mind was undoubtedly the system pursued\nin the schools. In the first century, as in the fifth, the formative years\nof boyhood were devoted almost entirely to the study of the poets. The\nsubject-matter of their masterpieces was not neglected by the accomplished\ngrammarian, who was often a man of learning, and sometimes a man of taste;\nand the reading of poetry was made the text for disquisitions on geography\nand astronomy, on mythology or the antiquities of religious ritual and\nconstitutional lore.(965) But style and expression were always of foremost\ninterest in these studies. The ear of the South has always felt the charm\nof rhythmical or melodious speech, with a keenness of pleasure generally\ndenied to our colder temperament. And the Augustan age had, in a single\ngeneration, performed miracles, under Greek inspiration, in moulding the\nLatin tongue to be the apt vehicle of every mood of poetic feeling. That\ninspired band of writers, whose call it was to glorify the dawn of a\nworld-wide empire and the ancient achievements of the Latin race,(966)\nrose to the full height of their vocation. They were conscious that they\nwere writing for distant provinces won from barbarism, and for a remote\nposterity.(967) They discovered and revealed resources in the language,\nhitherto undreamt of. They wedded to its native dignity and strength a\nbrilliancy, an easy grace and sprightliness, which positively ravished the\near of the street boys in Pompeii, or of the rude dweller on the Tanais or\nthe Baetis.(968) In his own lifetime Virgil became a popular hero. His\nEclogues were chanted on the stage; verses of the Aeneid can still be\nseen, along with verses of Propertius, scrawled on the walls of Campanian\ntowns. Virgil, when he visited Rome, was mobbed by admiring crowds. When\nhis poetry was recited in the theatre, the whole audience rose to their\nfeet as if to salute the emperor.(969) He had the doubtful but significant\nhonour of being recited by Alexandrian boys at the coarse orgies of a\nTrimalchio.(970) Never was a worthy fame so rapidly and splendidly won:\nseldom has literary fame and influence been so lasting.\n\nThe Flavian age succeeded to this great heritage. Already there were\nominous signs of a decay of originality and force, of decadence in the\nlanguage itself.(971) The controversy between the lovers of the new and\nthe lovers of the archaic style was raging in the reign of Vespasian, and\ncan be still followed in the _De Oratoribus_ of Tacitus, or even in the\nverses of Martial.(972) Already the taste for Ennius and the\nprae-Ciceronian oratory had set in, for the dialect of the heroes of the\nPunic Wars, even for \u201cthe Latin of the Twelve Tables,\u201d(973) a taste which\nwas destined to produce its Dead Sea fruit in the age of the Antonines.\nBut whoever might cavil at Cicero,(974) no one ever questioned the\npre-eminence of Virgil, and he and his contemporaries were still the\nmodels of a host of imitators. The mass of facile talent, thrown back on\nitself by the loss of free republican life and public interests,\nfascinated from earliest infancy by the haunting cadences of the grand\nstyle, rushed into verse-writing, to beguile long hours of idleness, or to\nwoo a shadowy fame at an afternoon recital, with a more shadowy hope of\nfuture fame. The grand style was a charmer and deceiver. It was such a\nperfect instrument, it was so protean in its various power, it was so\nabundant in its resources, that a man of third-rate powers and thin\ncommonplace imagination, who had been trained in skilful manipulation of\nconsecrated phrase, might for the moment delude himself and his friends by\nfaint echoes of the music of the golden age.\n\nThe brilliancy of inherited phrase concealed the poverty of the literary\namateur\u2019s fancy from himself. And, even if he were not deluded about his\nown powers, the practice in skilful handling of literary symbols, which\nwas acquired in the schools, furnished a refined amusement for a too ample\nleisure. It is clear from the dialogue _De Oratoribus_, and from Pliny\u2019s\nLetters, that the meditative life, surrounded by the quiet charm of stream\nand woodland, far from the din and strife and social routine of the great\ncity,(975) attracted many people much more than the greatest oratorical\ntriumphs in the centumviral court, which, after all, were so pale and\nbourgeois beside the glories of the great ages of oratory. And although\nAper, in the Dialogue of Tacitus, sneers at the solitary and unsocial toil\nof the poet, rewarded by a short-lived _succ\u00e8s d\u2019estime_,(976) there can\nbe no doubt that the ambition to cut a figure, even for a day, was a\npowerful inspiration at a time when the ancient avenues to fame had been\nclosed.\n\nIt was to satisfy such ambitions that Domitian founded the quinquennial\ncompetition on the Capitol, in the year 86 A.D.,(977) as well as the\nannual festival in honour of Minerva on the Alban Mount. A similar\nfestival, for the cultivation of Greek poetry, had been established at\nNaples in honour of Augustus, at which Statius had won the crown of\ncorn-ears.(978) And Nero had founded another, apparently only for his own\nglorification.(979) The festival established by Domitian was more\nimportant and enduring. The judges were taken from the priestly colleges,\nand, amid a concourse of the highest functionaries of the state, the\nsuccessful poet received his crown at the hands of the emperor. The\nprospect of such a distinction drew competitors from distant provincial\nparts. It is a curious illustration of the power and the skill of the\nliterary discipline of the schools that, twice within a few years, the\ncrown of oak leaves was won by boys under fourteen years of age. The\nverses of one of them may still be read upon his tomb.(980)\n\nBut these infrequent chances of distinction could not suffice for the\ncrowd of eager composers. In those days, although the bookselling trade\nwas extensive and vigorous, there was no organised publishing system by\nwhich a new work could be brought to the notice of the public.(981) The\nauthor had to advertise himself by giving readings, to which he invited\nhis friends, and by distributing copies of his book. The mania for\nrecitation was the theme of satirists from the days of Horace to the days\nof Epictetus.(982) Martial comically describes the frenzied poet torturing\nhis friends day and night, pursuing them from the bath to the dining-room,\nand spreading a solitude around him.(983) Juvenal congratulates his friend\non escaping to the country from the hoarse reciter of a frigid\nTheseid.(984) In the bohemian scenes of Petronius, the inveterate\nversifier, who will calmly finish a passage, after being cast ashore from\na shipwreck, makes himself a nuisance by his recitations in the baths and\nporticoes of Croton, and is very properly stoned by a crowd of street\nboys.(985) No aspect of social life is more prominent in the Letters of\nPliny than the reading of new works, epics, or lyrics, histories, or\nspeeches, before fashionable assemblies. A liberal patron like Titinius\nCapito would sometimes lend a hall for the purpose. But the reciter had\nmany expenses, from the hire of chairs to the fees to freedmen and slaves,\nwho acted as _claqueurs_. In the circle of a man like Pliny, to attend\nthese gatherings was a sacred duty both to letters and to friendship. In a\nyear when there was a more than usually abundant crop of poets, the eager\nadvocate could boast that he had failed no one, even in the month when the\ncourts were busiest.(986) Doubtless, many of the fashionable idlers, who\ndawdled away their time in the many resorts devoted to gossip and scandal,\nwere glad to show themselves in the crowd. Old friends would consider it a\nduty to support and encourage the budding literary ambition of a young\naspirant of their set. Some sincere lovers of literary art would be drawn\nby a genuine interest and a wish to maintain the literary tradition, which\nwas already betraying signs of weakness and decay. But, to a great many,\nthis duty, added to the endless round of other social obligations, was\nevidently becoming repulsive and wearisome.(987) Pliny could listen with\ndelight and admiration to Sentius Augurinus reciting his poems for three\nlong days.(988) He would calmly expect his own friends to listen for as\nmany days to a whole volume of his poems, or to his _Panegyric_ on\nTrajan.(989) Such was his high breeding, his kindliness, and such was his\npassion for literature in any form or of any quality, that he could hardly\nunderstand how what to him seemed at once a pleasure and duty should be\nregarded by others as an intolerable nuisance. The conduct of such people\nis treated with some disdain in one or two of the rare passages in which\nhe writes of his circle with any severity. Some of these fashionable folk,\nafter lingering in some place of gossip until the reading was well\nadvanced, would enter the hall with ostentatious reluctance, and then\nleave before the end. Others, with an air of superiority, would sit in\nstolid silence and disguise the slightest expression of interest. This\nseemed to Pliny, not only grossly bad manners, but also neglect of a\nliterary duty.(990) The audience should not only encourage honest effort;\nthey should contribute their judgment to the improvement of style. Pliny,\nlike Aristotle, has an immense faith in the collective opinion of numbers,\neven in matters of artistic taste.(991) He used to read his own pieces to\nsuccessively wider circles, each time receiving suggestions for amendment.\nMany of Pliny\u2019s Letters, like the dialogue _De Oratoribus_, reveal the\nkeenness with which in those days questions of style were debated. But, as\nin the circle of Sidonius, this very energy of criticism was perhaps due\nto a dim consciousness of waning force.(992) Pliny, with all his kindly\noptimism, lets fall a phrase here and there which betrays an uneasiness\nabout the future of letters.(993) Enthusiasm is failing. Nay, there is a\nhardly veiled contempt for that eager mediocrity which Pliny and Titinius\nCapito made it a point of honour to encourage. We feel that we are on the\nedge of that arid desert of cultivated impotence in which the freshness\nand vigour of Roman literature was soon mysteriously to disappear.\n\nGreat as were the attractions of the capital, its gay social circles with\ntheir multifarious engagements, its games and spectacles, and literary\nnovelties, yet the most devoted \u201cArdelio,\u201d in the end, felt the strain and\nthe monotony to be oppressive.(994) Seneca and Pliny, Martial and\nJuvenal,(995) from various points of view, lament or ridicule the inanity\nand the slavery of city life. Roman etiquette was perhaps the most\nimperious and exacting that ever existed. Morning receptions, punctilious\nattendance at the assumption of the toga, at betrothals, or the sealing of\nwills, or the reading of some tedious epic, advice or support in the law\ncourts, congratulations to friends on every official success, these\nduties, and many others, left men, who had a large circle of acquaintance,\nhardly a moment of repose. Hence the rapture with which Pliny escapes to\nthe stillness of the Laurentine pine woods, or the pure cold breezes that\nblew from the Apennines over his Tuscan seat.(996) In these calm solitudes\nthe weary advocate and man of letters became for a little while his own\nmaster, and forgot the din and crush of the streets, the paltry ambitions,\nthe malevolent gossip and silly rumours of the great world, in some\nlong-suspended literary task. There can be no doubt that an intense\nenjoyment was becoming more and more felt in country life. Its unbought,\nhome-grown luxuries, its common sights and sounds, its antique simplicity,\nhave a strange charm even for a hardened bohemian like Martial.(997) But\nPliny, besides this commoner form of enjoyment, has a keen and exquisite\nfeeling for beauty of scenery. He loves the amphitheatre of hills, crowned\nwith immemorial forest that looks down on rich pastoral slope, or vineyard\nor meadow, bright with the flowers of spring, and watered by the winding\nTiber; he loves the scenery of Como, where you watch the fishermen at his\ntoils from some retreat on the terraced banks.(998) Where in ancient\nliterature can you find a more sharp and clear-cut picture of a romantic\nscene than in his description of the Clitumnus?(999) The famous stream\nrises under a low hill, shaded by ancient cypresses, and broadens into a\nbasin in whose glassy ice-cold waters you may count the pebbles. Soon the\ncurrent grows broader and swifter, and the barges are swept along under\ngroves of ash and poplar, which, so vivid is their reflection, seem to be\ngrowing in the river-bed. Hard by, is a temple of the river-god, with many\nother chapels, and a seat of ancient augury; the magic charm of antique\nreligious awe blends with the witchery of nature, and many a villa is\nplanted on fair spots along the banks. There was plenty of sport to be had\nin the Apennines or the Laurentine woods. But Pliny was plainly not a real\nsportsman. He once tells his friend Tacitus, who seems to have rallied him\non this failing, that although he has killed three boars, he much prefers\nto sit, tablets in hand beside the nets, meditating in the silent\nglade.(1000) The country is charming to Pliny, but its greatest charm lies\nin the long tranquil hours which can be given to literary musing. Part of\nthe well-regulated day of Spurinna, a man who had commanded armies and\ngoverned provinces, and who had reached his seventy-seventh year, is\ndevoted to lyric composition both in Greek and Latin.(1001) Pliny once or\ntwice laments the mass of literary talent which, from diffidence or love\nof ease, was buried in these rural retreats.(1002) There must have been\nmany a country squire, like that Terentius, who, apparently lost in\nbucolic pursuits, surprised his guest by the purity of his taste and his\nbreadth of culture. We often meet the same buried talent after nearly four\ncenturies in the pages of Sidonius.(1003)\n\nThe literature of the Flavian age has preserved for us many pictures of\nRoman villas. They occupied every variety of site. They were planted on\nrocks where the sea-foam flecked their walls,(1004) or on inland lakes and\nrivers, embowered in woods, or on the spurs of the Apennines, between the\nancient forest and the wealthy plain.(1005) Some of these mansions were\nremote and secluded. But on the Bay of Naples, on the Laurentine shore or\nthe banks of Lake Como,(1006) they clustered thickly. Building in the days\nof Domitian was as much the rage as it was in the days of Horace, and,\njust as then, all natural obstacles were defied in preparing a site to the\nbuilder\u2019s taste. In the grounds of Pollius Felix in the _Silvae_, whole\nhills had been levelled, and rocks had been cleared away to make a space\nfor the house with its gardens and woodlands.(1007) Manlius Vopiscus had\nbuilt two luxurious seats on opposite banks of the Anio, where the stream\nglides silently under overarching boughs.(1008) The villas pressed so\nclose to the water that you could converse, and almost touch hands, across\nthe interval between them. The love of variety, or the obligation imposed\non senators to invest a third of their fortune in Italian land,(1009) may\naccount for the number of country seats possessed even by men who were not\nof the wealthiest class.(1010) Pliny had villas at Laurentum, at Tifernum\nTiberinum, at Beneventum, and more than two on Lake Como.(1011) The orator\nRegulus had at least five country seats.(1012) Silius Italicus had several\nstately abodes in the same district of Campania, and, with capricious\nfacility, transferred his affections to each new acquisition.(1013)\n\nIt is by no means an easy task, and perhaps not a very profitable one, to\ntrace minutely the arrangement of one of these great houses. Indeed there\nseems to have been a good deal of caprice and little care for symmetry in\ntheir architecture. The builder appears to have given no thought to\nexternal effect. To catch a romantic view from the windows, to escape the\nsultry heat of midsummer, or woo the brief sunshine of December, above all\nto obtain perfect stillness, were the objects which seem to have dictated\nthe plans of the Roman architect.(1014) The Laurentine villa of Pliny and\nthe Surrentine of Pollius Felix from their windows or colonnades gave\nglimpses of forest or mountain, or sea, or fat herds browsing on the\nmeadow grass, or a view seaward to the islands off the Campanian\nshore.(1015) One room admits the morning sun, another is brightened by the\nglow of evening. Here is a colonnade where in winter you can pace up and\ndown with shutters closed on the weather side, or in spring-time enjoy the\nscent of violets and the temperate sunshine.(1016) In the mansions on the\nAnio, there is, according to Statius, an air of everlasting quietness,\nnever broken even by wandering wind, or ripple of the stream.(1017) Pliny\nhas a distant room at Laurentum, to which even the licensed din of the\nSaturnalia never penetrates.(1018) Thus these villas threw out their\nchambers far and wide, meandering in all directions, according to the\nfancy of the master, or the charms of the neighbouring scenery.\n\nThe luxury of the Roman villa consisted rather in the spaciousness and\nvariety of building, to suit the changing seasons, than in furniture for\ncomfort or splendour. There were, indeed, in many houses some costly\narticles, tables of citrus and ivory, and antique vases, of priceless\nworth.(1019) But the chambers of the most stately houses would probably,\nto modern taste, seem scantily furnished. It was on the walls and ceiling\nand columns that the Roman of taste lavished his wealth. The houses of\nPliny, indeed, seem to have been little adorned by this sort of costly\ndisplay.(1020) But the villa of Pollius Felix, like the baths of Claudius\nEtruscus, shone with all the glory of variegated marbles on plaque and\npillar, drawn from the quarries of Phrygia, Laconia, and Syene, Carystus\nand Numidia.(1021) Pliny confesses that he is not a connoisseur in art. He\nspeaks with hesitation of the merit of a Corinthian bronze which he has\nacquired.(1022) But he was surrounded in his own class by artistic\nenthusiasm, much of it, it is to be feared, pretentious and ignorant. The\ndispersion of the artistic wealth of Greek lands had flooded Italy with\nthe works of the great masters. Collectors of them, like Silius Italicus,\nabounded. The fashion became so general and so imperious, that it\npenetrated even into the vulgar circle of people like Trimalchio, who, in\ninterpreting the subject of the chasing on a cup, could confuse the Punic\nand the Trojan wars. In the villas described by Statius, it would seem\nthat the art of Apelles, Pheidias, Myron, and Polycletus adorned the\nsaloons and colonnades.(1023) It may be doubted, however, whether many of\nthese works could claim such illustrious parentage. There was plenty of\nfacile technique in those days which might easily deceive the vulgar\ncollector by more or less successful reproduction.(1024) The confident\nclaim to artistic discrimination was not less common in the Flavian age\nthan in later days, and it was probably as fallible. It is rather\nsuspicious that, in the attempts at artistic appreciation in this period,\nattention seems to be concentrated on the supposed antiquity, rarity, or\ncostliness of material. There is little in the glowing descriptions in the\n_Silvae_ to indicate a genuine appreciation of real art.\n\nIt is possible that the great Roman country seat, in its vast extent,\nalthough not in the stateliness of its exterior, may have surpassed the\ncorresponding mansions of our time. It was the expression in stone of the\ndominant passion of an enormously wealthy class, intoxicated with the\nsplendour of imperial power, and ambitious to create monuments worthy of\nan imperial race. Moreover, the Roman\u2019s energy always exulted in\ntriumphing over natural difficulties. Just as he drove his roads\nunswerving over mountain and swamp, so he took a pride in rearing his\npiles of masonry on the most obstinate and defiant sites, or even in the\nmiddle of the waves. But, in the extent of their parks, and the variety of\nfloral display, the Romans of the most luxurious age seldom reached the\nmodern English standard. The grounds of the villas which, in thick\nsuccession, lined the Laurentine or Campanian shore, cannot have been very\nextensive. Pliny has splendid views from his windows of forest, mountain,\nand meadow, but the scene lies plainly beyond the bounds of his\ndemesne.(1025) The gardens and shrubberies are very artificial, arranged\nin terraces or labyrinths close to the house, or with hedges of box\nclipped into shapes of animals along an open colonnade. The hippodrome at\nhis Tuscan seat, for riding exercise, is formed by lines of box and laurel\nand cypress and plane tree. The fig and mulberry form a garden at the\nLaurentine villa.(1026) The cultivated flowers are few, only roses and\nviolets. But the Romans made up for variety by lavish profusion. In the\nNeronian orgies a fortune was sometimes spent on Egyptian roses for a\nsingle banquet.(1027)\n\nWe might almost conjecture how the days passed amid such scenes, even\nwithout any formal diary. But Pliny has left us two descriptions of a\ngentleman\u2019s day in the country.(1028) Pliny himself, as we might expect,\nawoke early, about six o\u2019clock, and in one of those sleeping-rooms, so\ncarefully shut off from the voices of nature or from household noise, with\nshutters still closed, he meditated some literary piece. Then, calling for\nhis amanuensis, he dictated what he had composed. About ten or eleven, he\npassed into a shady cloister, opening on a bed of violets, or a grove of\nplane trees, where he continued his literary work. Then followed a drive,\nduring which, according to his uncle\u2019s precept and example, his studies\nwere still continued.(1029) A short siesta, a walk, declamation in Greek\nand Latin, after the habit of Cicero, gymnastic exercise, and the bath,\nfilled the space till dinner time arrived. During this meal, a book was\nread aloud, and the evening hours were enlivened by acting or music and\nthe society of friends. Occasional hunting and the cares of a rural estate\ncame in to vary this routine. The round of Spurinna\u2019s day, which excited\nPliny\u2019s admiration by its rigid regularity, is pretty much the same as his\nown, except that Spurinna seems to have talked more and read less.(1030)\n\nTo the ordinary English squire Pliny\u2019s studious life in the country would\nnot seem very attractive. And his pretence of sport was probably ridiculed\neven in his own day.(1031) But his Letters give glimpses of a rural\nsociety which, both in its pleasures and its cares, has probably been\nalways much the same from one age to another in Europe. On his way to\nComo, Pliny once turned aside for a couple of days to his Tuscan estate,\nto join in the dedication of a temple which he had built for the people of\nTifernum Tiberinum. The consecration was to be followed by a dinner to his\ngood neighbours, who had elected him patron of their township, who were\nvery proud of his career, and greeted him warmly whenever he came among\nthem.(1032) There is also the record of the restoration, in obedience to\nthe warning of a diviner, of an ancient temple of Ceres on his lands, with\ncolonnades to shelter the worshippers who frequented the shrine. And the\nvenerable wooden statue of the goddess, which was much decayed, had to be\nreplaced by a more artistic image. But the life of a Roman proprietor, of\ncourse, had its prosaic and troublesome side which Pliny does not conceal.\nThere is an interesting letter in which he consults a friend on the\nquestion of the purchase of an estate.(1033) It adjoined, or rather cut\ninto his own lands. It could be managed by the same bailiff, and the same\nstaff of labourers and artisans would serve for both estates. On the other\nhand, Pliny thinks, it is better not to put too many eggs into one basket.\nIt is more prudent to have estates widely dispersed, and thus less exposed\nto a single stroke of calamity. Moreover this estate, however tempting,\nwith its fertile, well-watered meadows, its vineyards and woods, is\nburdened by an insolvent tenantry, who, through faulty management, have\nbeen allowed to fall into arrear. Pliny, however, is tempted to buy at a\ngreatly reduced price,(1034) and, in order to meet the payment, although\nhis wealth is nearly all in land, he can call in some loans at interest,\nand the balance can be borrowed from his father-in-law, whose purse is\nalways at his disposal. Pliny was sometimes worried by the complaints of\nthe people on his estates, and finds it very difficult to secure solvent\ntenants on a five years lease. He made liberal remissions of rent, but\narrears went on accumulating, until the tenant in despair gave up any\nattempt to repay his debt. In this extremity, Pliny resolved to adopt a\ndifferent system of letting. He substituted for a fixed rent a certain\nproportion of the produce,(1035) in fact the m\u00e9tayer system, and employed\nsome of his people to see that the returns were not fraudulently\ndiminished. At another time he is embarrassed by finding that, owing to a\nbad vintage, the men who have bought his grapes in advance are going to be\nheavy losers. He makes a uniform remission to all of about twelve per\ncent. But he gives an additional advantage to the large buyers, and to\nthose who had been prompt in their payments.(1036) It is characteristic of\nthe man that he says, quite naturally, that the landlord should share with\nhis tenant such risks from the fickleness of nature.\n\nSo good a man was sure to be far more afflicted by the troubles of his\ndependents than by any pecuniary losses of his own. One year, there were\nmany deaths among his slaves. Pliny feels this acutely, but he consoles\nhimself by the reflection that he has been liberal in manumission, and\nstill more liberal in allowing his slaves to make their wills, the\nvalidity of which he maintains as if they were legal instruments.(1037) If\nPliny shows a little too much self-complacency in this human sympathy,\nthere can be no doubt that, like Seneca, he felt that slaves were humble\nfriends, men of the same flesh and blood as the master, and that the\nmaster has a moral duty towards them, quite apart from the legal\nconventions of Rome.(1038) When his wife\u2019s grandfather proposed to make\nnumerous manumissions, Pliny rejoiced greatly at the accession of so many\nnew citizens to the municipality.(1039) When his favourite reader,\nEncolpius, was seized with hemorrhage, Pliny displayed a genuine and most\naffectionate concern for the humble partner of his studies.(1040) Another\nmember of his household, a freedman named Zosimus, suffered from the same\nmalady. Zosimus seems to have been a most excellent, loyal, and\naccomplished man. He was very versatile, a comedian, a musician, a\ntasteful reader of every kind of literature.(1041) His patron sent him to\nEgypt to recruit his health. But, from putting too great a strain upon his\nvoice, he had a return of his dangerous illness, and once more needed\nchange of air. Pliny determined to send him to the Riviera, and begs a\nfriend, Paulinus, to let Zosimus have the use of his villa and all\nnecessary attention, for which Pliny will bear the cost.(1042) In his\nsocial relations with his freedmen Pliny always shows himself the perfect,\nkindly gentleman. Juvenal and Martial poured their scorn on those unequal\ndinners, where the guests were graduated, and where poorer wine and\ncoarser viands were served out to those of humble degree.(1043) Pliny was\npresent at one of these entertainments, and he expresses his contempt for\nthe vulgar host in terms of unwonted energy.(1044) His own freedmen, as he\ntells a fellow-guest, are entertained as equals at his table. If a man\nfears the expense, he can find a remedy by restraining his own luxury, and\nsharing the plain fare which he imposes on his company. Pliny\u2019s relations\nwith his slaves and freedmen were very like those which the kindly English\nsquire cultivates towards his household and dependents. The affectionate\nregret for a good master or mistress, recorded on many an inscription of\nthat age,(1045) shows that Pliny\u2019s household was by no means a rare\nexception.\n\nYet the Letters of Pliny, with all their charity and tranquil optimism,\nreveal now and then a darker side of household slavery. A man of\npraetorian rank named Largius Macedo, who forgot, or perhaps too vividly\nremembered, his own servile origin, was known as a cruel and haughty\nmaster. While he was enjoying the bath in his Formian villa, he was\nsuddenly surrounded by a throng of angry slaves who, with every expression\nof hatred and loathing, inflicted on him such injuries that he was left\nfor dead on the glowing pavement. He seemed, or pretended for a while, to\nbe dead. A few who remained faithful took up the apparently lifeless\ncorpse, amid the shrieks of his concubines, and bore him into the\nFrigidarium. The coolness and the clamour recalled him from his swoon. The\nwould-be murderers meanwhile had fled, but many of them were caught in the\nend, and the outrage was sternly avenged.(1046) In another letter, Pliny\ntells the tale of the mysterious disappearance of one Metilius Crispus, a\ncitizen of Como, for whom Pliny had obtained equestrian rank, and made him\na gift of the required HS.400,000. Metilius set out on a journey and was\nnever heard of again.(1047) It is significant that of the slaves who\nattended him no one ever reappeared. Amid such perils, says Pliny, do we\nmasters live, and no kindness can relieve us from alarm. Seneca remarks\nthat the master\u2019s life is continually at the mercy of his slaves.(1048)\nAnd the cruel stringency of legislation shows how real was the peril.\n\nPliny was only an infant in the evil days when suicide was the one refuge\nfrom tyranny, when the lancet so often opened the way to \u201ceternal\nfreedom.\u201d Yet, even in his later years, men not unfrequently escaped from\nintolerable calamity or incurable disease by a voluntary death.(1049) The\nmorality of suicide was long a debated question. There were strict\nmoralists who maintained that it was never lawful to quit one\u2019s post\nbefore the final signal to retreat. Men like Seneca regarded it as a\nquestion to be determined by circumstances and motives.(1050) He would not\npalliate wild, impetuous self-murder, without a justifying cause. On the\nother hand, there might be, especially under a monster like Nero, cases in\nwhich it were mere folly not to choose an easy emancipation rather than a\ncertain death of torture and ignominy. Eternal law, which has assigned a\nsingle entrance to this life, has mercifully allowed us many exits. Any\ndeath is preferable to servitude.(1051) So, in the case of disease and old\nage, it is merely a question whether the remainder of life is worth\nliving. If the mental powers are falling into irreparable decay, if the\nmalady is tormenting and incurable, Seneca would permit the rational soul\nto quit abruptly its crumbling tenement, not to escape pain or weakness,\nbut to shake off the slavery of a worthless life.(1052)\n\nPliny was not a philosopher, and had no elaborate theory of suicide or of\nanything else. But his opinion on the question may be gathered from his\nremarks on the case of Titius Aristo, the learned jurist. To rush on\ndeath, he says, is a vulgar, commonplace act. But to balance the various\nmotives, and make a deliberate and rational choice may, in certain\ncircumstances, be the proof of a lofty mind.(1053) The cases of suicide\ndescribed in the Letters are nearly always cases of incurable or prolonged\ndisease. The best known is that of the luxurious Silius Italicus, who\nstarved himself to death in his seventy-fifth year.(1054) He was afflicted\nwith an incurable tumour, almost the only trouble in his long and happy\nlife. Corellius Rufus, who had watched over Pliny\u2019s career with almost\nparental care,(1055) chose to end his life in a similar manner. Pliny was\nimmensely saddened by the close of a life which seemed to enjoy so many\nblessings, high character, great reputation and influence, family love and\nfriendship. Yet he does not question the last resolve of Corellius. In his\nthirty-third year he had been seized with hereditary gout. During the\nperiod of vigorous manhood, he had warded off its onsets by an extreme\nabstinence. But as old age crept on, its tortures, wracking every limb,\nbecame unendurable, and Corellius determined to put an end to the hopeless\nstruggle. His obstinacy was proof against all the entreaties of his wife\nand friends, and Pliny, who was called in as a last resource, came only to\nhear the physician repelled for the last time with a single energetic\nword.(1056) Sailing once on Lake Como, Pliny heard from an old friend the\ntragic tale of a double suicide from a verandah overhanging the lake. The\nhusband had long suffered from a loathsome and hopeless malady. His wife\ninsisted on knowing the truth, and, when it was revealed to her, she\nnerved him to end the cruel ordeal, and promised to bear him company.\nBound together, the pair took the fatal leap.(1057)\n\nIn spite of his charity and optimism,(1058) it would not be altogether\ntrue to say that Pliny was blind to the faults and vices of his time. He\nspeaks, with almost Tacitean scorn, of the rewards which awaited a\ncalculating childlessness, and of the eager servility of the\nwill-hunter.(1059) In recommending a tutor for the son of Corellia\nHispulla, he regards the teacher\u2019s stainless character as of paramount\nimportance in an age of dangerous licence, when youth was beset with\nmanifold seductions.(1060) He blushes for the degradation of senatorial\ncharacter displayed in the scurrilous or obscene entries which were\nsometimes found on the voting tablets of the august body.(1061) The\ndecline of modesty and courteous deference in the young towards their\nelders greatly afflicted so courteous a gentleman. There seemed to be no\nrespect left for age or authority. With their fancied omniscience and\nintuitive wisdom, young men disdain to learn from any one or to imitate\nany example; they are their own models.(1062) Among the many spotless and\ncharming women of Pliny\u2019s circle, there is one curious exception, one, we\nmay venture to surmise, who had been formed in the Neronian age. Ummidia\nQuadratilla was a lady of the highest rank, who died at the age of eighty\nin the middle of the reign of Trajan.(1063) She preserved to the end an\nextraordinary health and vigour, and evidently enjoyed the external side\nof life with all the zest of the old days of licence in her youth. Her\ngrandson, who lived under her roof, was one of Pliny\u2019s dearest friends, a\nspotless and almost puritanical character. Ummidia, even in her old age,\nkept a troop of pantomimic artistes, and continued to enjoy their doubtful\nexhibitions. But her grandson would never witness them, and, it must be\nsaid, Ummidia respected and even encouraged a virtue superior to her own.\n\nIt has been remarked that, in nearly all these cases, where Pliny has any\nfault to find with his generation, the evil seems to be only a foil for\nthe virtue of some of his friends. Even in his own day, there were those\nwho criticised him for his extravagant praise of the people he loved. He\ntakes the censure as a compliment, preferring the kind-heartedness which\nis occasionally deceived, to the cold critical habit which has lost all\nillusions.(1064) Pliny belonged to a caste who were linked to one another\nby the strongest ties of loyalty and tradition.(1065) The members of it\nwere bound to support one another by counsel, encouragement, and\ninfluence, they were expected to help a comrade\u2019s advancement in the\ncareer of honours, to applaud and stimulate his literary ambition, to be\nprodigal of sympathy or congratulation or pecuniary help in all the\nvicissitudes of public or private life.(1066) The older men, who had borne\nthe weight of great affairs, recognised the duty of forming the character\nof their juniors by precept and criticism. In this fashion the old soldier\nSpurinna, on his morning drive, would pour forth to some young companion\nthe wealth of his long experience. In this spirit Verginius Rufus and\nCorellius stood by Pliny throughout his official career, to guide and\nsupport him.(1067) Pliny, in his turn, was always lavish of this kind of\nhelp, and deemed it a matter of pride and duty to afford it. Sometimes he\nsolicits office for a friend\u2019s son, or commends a man to the emperor for\nthe _Jus trium liberorum_.(1068) Sometimes he applauds the early efforts\nof a young pleader at the bar, or gives him counsel as to the causes which\nhe should undertake, or the discipline necessary for oratorical\nsuccess.(1069) He was often consulted about the choice of a tutor for\nboys, and he responded with all the earnestness of a man who believed in\nthe infinite importance of sound influence in the early years of\nlife.(1070) To his older friends he would address disquisitions on style,\nconsolations in bereavement, congratulations on official preferment,\ndescriptions of some fair scene or picturesque incident in rural life. He\noften wrote, like Symmachus, merely to maintain the connection of friendly\nsympathy by a chat on paper. His vanity is only too evident in some of\nthese letters. But it is, after all, an innocent vanity and the consuming\nanxiety to cherish the warmth and solidarity of friendship, and a high\ntone in the great class to which he belonged, might well cover even graver\nfaults. If there was too much self-indulgence in that class, if they often\nabandoned themselves to the seductions of ease and literary trifling in\nluxurious retreats, it is also to be remembered that a man of rank paid\nheavily for his place in Roman society, both in money and in the\nobservance of a very exacting social code. And no one recognised the\nobligation with more cheerful alacrity than Pliny.\n\nPliny felt a genuine anxiety that young men of birth should aim at\npersonal distinction. Any gleam of generous ambition, any sign of\nstrenuous energy, which might save a young aristocrat from the temptations\nof ease and wealth, were hailed by him with unaffected delight. He was\nevidently very susceptible to the charm of manner which youths of this\nclass often possess. When to that was added strength of character, his\nsatisfaction was complete. Hence his delight when Fuscus Salinator and\nUmmidius Quadratus, of the very cream of the Roman nobility, entered on\nthe conflicts of the Centumviral Court.(1071) And indeed these young men\nappear to have had many graces and virtues. Salinator, in particular, with\nexquisite literary culture, had a mingled charm of boyish simplicity,\ngravity, and sweetness.(1072) Asinius Bassus, the son of Asinius Rufus,\nwas another of this promising band of youth, blameless, learned, and\ndiligent, whom Pliny commends for the quaestorship to Fundanus, then\napparently designated as consul.(1073) There is no more genuine feeling in\nthe Letters than the grief of Pliny for the early death of Junius Avitus,\nanother youth of high promise. Pliny had formed his character, and\nsupported him in his candidature for office. He had helped him with advice\nin his studies, or in his administrative duties. Avitus repaid all this\npaternal care by a docility and deference which were becoming rare among\nthe young men of the day. Winning the affection and confidence of his\nelders in the service, Avitus was surely destined to develop into one of\nthose just and strenuous imperial officers, like Corbulo or Verginius\nRufus, many of whom have left only a name on a brief inscription, but who\nwere the glory and strength of the Empire in the times of its deepest\ndegradation. But all such hopes for Avitus were extinguished in a day.\n\nThe upright and virtuous men of Pliny\u2019s circle, Corellius Rufus, Titinius\nCapito the historian, Pegasus the learned jurist, Trebonius Rufus the\nmagistrate who suppressed the games at Vienne, Junius Mauricus, who would\nhave denied them to the capital, and many others of the like stamp, have\noften been used to refute the pessimism of Juvenal. We have in a former\nchapter seen reason to believe that the satirist\u2019s view of female\ncharacter needs to be similarly rectified. Even in the worst reigns the\npages of Tacitus reveal to us strong and pure women, both in the palace\nand in great senatorial houses. In the wide philosophic class there was\nprobably many an Arria and Plotina. In the _Agricola_, and in Seneca\u2019s\nletters to Marcia and Helvia, we can see that, even at the darkest hour,\nthere were homes with an atmosphere of old Roman self-restraint and\nsobriety, where good women wielded a powerful influence over their\nhusbands and their sons, and where the examples of the old Republic were\nused, as Biblical characters with us, to fortify virtue.(1074) Seneca, in\nhis views about women, as in many other things, is essentially modern. He\nadmires indeed the antique ideal of self-contained strength and homely\nvirtue. But he also believes in the equal capacity of women for culture,\neven in the field of philosophy, and he half regrets that an old-fashioned\nprejudice had debarred Helvia from receiving a philosophic\ndiscipline.(1075) Tacitus and Pliny, who had no great faith in philosophy\nas a study for men, would hardly have recommended it for women. But they\nlived among women who were cultivated in the best sense. Pliny\u2019s third\nwife, Calpurnia, was able to give him the fullest sympathy in his literary\nefforts.(1076) But her fame, of which she probably little dreamt, is\nfounded on her purity and sweetness of character. Her ancestors, like\nPliny\u2019s, belonged to the aristocracy of Como. Her aunt, Calpurnia\nHispulla, who was a dear friend of Pliny\u2019s mother, had watched over her\nduring the years of girlhood with a sedulous care which made her an ideal\nwife. What Calpurnia was like as a girl, we may probably picture to\nourselves from the prose elegy of Pliny on the death of the young daughter\nof Minutius Fundanus.(1077) It is the picture of a beautiful character,\nand a fair young life cut off too soon. The girl had not yet reached her\nfourteenth year. She was already betrothed when she was seized with a\nfatal sickness. Her sweet girlish modesty, which was combined with a\nmatronly gravity, charmed all her father\u2019s friends. She had love for all\nthe household, her tutors and slaves, nurses and maids. A vigorous mind\ntriumphed over bodily weakness, and she passed through her last illness\nwith a sweet patience, encouraging her father and sister to bear up, and\nshowing no shrinking from death.\n\nAlthough we know of a good many happy wedded lives in that age,(1078)\nthere is no picture so full of pure devotion and tenderness as that which\nwe have in Pliny\u2019s letters to Calpurnia. They are love-letters in the best\nsense and the most perfect style.(1079) Pliny\u2019s youth was long past when\nhe won the hand of Calpurnia, yet their love for one another is that of\nboy and girl. When she has to go into Campania for her health, he is\nracked with all sorts of anxiety about her, and entreats her to write\nonce, or even twice, a day. Pliny reads her letters over and over again,\nas if they had just come. He has her image before him by night, and at the\nwonted hour by day his feet carry him to her vacant room. His only respite\nfrom these pains of a lover is while he is engaged in court. Pliny had\nfrequent care about Calpurnia\u2019s health. They did not belong to the hideous\nclass who preferred \u201cthe rewards of childlessness,\u201d but their hopes of\noffspring were dashed again and again. These griefs were imparted to\nCalpurnia\u2019s aunt, and to her grandfather, Calpurnius Fabatus, a generous\nold squire of Como, who was as anxious as Pliny to have descendants of his\nrace. At the time of the old man\u2019s death, Calpurnia was with her husband\nin Bithynia, and she wished to hasten home at once to console her aunt.\nPliny, not having time to secure the emperor\u2019s sanction, gave her the\nofficial order for the use of the public post on her journey back to\nItaly. In answer to his letter of explanation and excuse, Trajan sent his\napproval in his usual kind and courteous style. This is the last glimpse\nwe have of Pliny and Calpurnia.(1080)\n\nPliny\u2019s character, as displayed in his Letters, is the embodiment of the\nfinest moral tone of the great age which had opened when he died, in\nkindlier or juster treatment of the slave, in high respect for women, in\nconscientious care for the education of the young, in beneficent provision\nfor the helpless and distressed. But it would be a mistaken view to regard\nthese ideas as an altogether new departure. It is dangerous to assert that\nanything is altogether new in Roman social history. The truth is that the\nmoral sentiment in which these movements took their rise had been for\ngenerations in the air. It was diffused by the Stoic preaching of the\nbrotherhood and equality of men as fellow-citizens of one great\ncommonwealth. The duty of redeeming the captive and succouring the poor\nhad been preached by Cicero a century and a half before Pliny\u2019s Letters\nappeared.(1081) Horace had, a few years later, asked the searching\nquestion, \u201cWhy should the worthy be in want while you have wealth?\u201d(1082)\nSeneca preaches, with the unction of an evangelist, all the doctrines on\nwhich the humane legislation of the Antonine age was founded, all the\nprinciples of humanity and charity of every age. He asserts the natural\nequality of bond and free, and the claim of the slave to kindness and\nconsideration.(1083) He brands in many a passage the cruelty and contempt\nof the slaveholder. He preaches tolerance of the froward, forgiveness of\ninsult and injury.(1084) He enforces the duty of universal kindness and\nhelpfulness by the example of God, who is bounteous and merciful even to\nthe evildoer.(1085) Juvenal was little of a philosopher, but he had\nunconsciously drunk deep of the gospel of philosophy. Behind all his\nbitter pessimism there is a pure and lofty moral tone which sometimes\nalmost approaches the ideal of charity in S. Paul. The slave whom we\ntorture or insult for some slight negligence is of the same elements as we\nare.(1086) The purity of childhood is not to be defiled by the ribaldry of\nthe banquet and the example of a mother\u2019s intrigues or a father\u2019s brutal\nexcesses.(1087) Revenge is the pleasure of a puny soul.(1088) The guilty\nmay be left to the scourge of the unseen inquisitor. Juvenal regards the\npower of sympathy for any human grief or pain as the priceless gift of\nNature, \u201cwho has given us tears.\u201d(1089) It is by her command that we mourn\nthe calamity of a friend or the death of the babe \u201ctoo small for the\nfuneral pyre.\u201d The scenes of suffering and pity which the satirist has\nsketched in some tender lines were assuredly not imaginary pictures. We\nare apt to forget, in our modern self-complacency, that, at least among\ncivilised races, human nature in its broad features remains pretty much\nthe same from age to age. On an obscure epitaph of this period you may\nread the words\u2014_Bene fac, hoc tecum feres._(1090) Any one who knows the\ninscriptions may be inclined to doubt whether private benefactions under\nthe Antonines were less frequent and generous than in our own day.\n\nThe duties of wealth, both in Greece and Rome, were at all times\nrigorously enforced by public opinion. The rich had to pay heavily for\ntheir honours and social consideration in the days of Cicero, and in the\ndays of Symmachus, as they had in the days of Pericles.(1091) They had to\ncontribute to the amusement of the people, and to support a crowd of\nclients and freedmen. In the remotest municipality, the same ambitions and\nthe same social demands, as we shall show in the next chapter, put an\nenormous strain on the resources of the upper class. Men must have often\nruined themselves by this profuse liberality. In the reign of Augustus a\ngreat patron had several times given a favourite freedman sums of \u00a33000 or\n\u00a34000. The patron\u2019s descendant in the reign of Nero had to become a\npensioner of the emperor. Juvenal and Martial reveal the clamorous demands\nby which the great patron was assailed.(1092) The motives for this\ngenerosity of the wealthy class were at all times mixed and various. But\nin our period, the growth of a pure humane charity is unmistakable, of a\nfeeling of duty to the helpless, whether young or old. The State had from\nthe time of the Gracchi taken upon itself the immense burden of providing\nfood for a quarter of a million of the proletariat of Rome. But in the\ndays of Pliny it recognised fresh obligations. The importance of education\nand the growth of poverty appealed powerfully to a ruling class, which,\nunder the influence of philosophy, was coming to believe more and more in\nthe duty of benevolence and of devotion to things of the mind. All the\nemperors from Vespasian to M. Aurelius made liberal provision for the\nhigher studies.(1093) But this endowment of culture, which in the end did\nharm as well as good, is not so interesting to us as the charitable\nfoundations for the children of the poor. It was apparently the emperor\nNerva, the rigid economist who sold the imperial furniture and jewels to\nreplenish the treasury,(1094) who first made provision for the children of\nneedy parents throughout Italy. But epigraphy tells us more than literary\nhistory of the charity of the emperors. The tablet of Veleia is a\npriceless record of the charitable measures adopted by Trajan. The motive\nof the great emperor was probably, as his panegyrist suggests, political\nas much as benevolent.(1095) He may have wished to encourage the rearing\nof children who should serve in the armies of the State, as well as to\nrelieve distress. The provision was even more evidently intended to\nstimulate agriculture. The landed proprietors of the place, to the number\nof forty-six, received on mortgage a loan from the State of about \u00a310,000\nin our money, at an interest of five per cent, which was less than half\nthe usual rate of that time.(1096) The interest was appropriated to the\nmaintenance of 300 poor children, at the rate of about \u00a31:11s. a year for\neach male child, and \u00a31 for each girl. The illegitimate children, who, it\nmay be noted, were only two or three out of so many, received a smaller\nallowance. The boys were supported till their eighteenth year, the girls\ntill fourteen. It was a bold and sagacious attempt to encourage Italian\nagriculture, to check the ominous depopulation of Italy,(1097) and to\nanswer the cry of the poor. Hadrian continued and even added to the\nbenefaction of Trajan.(1098) Antoninus Pius, in honour of his wife\nFaustina, established a foundation for young girls who were to be called\nby her not altogether unspotted name.(1099) A similar charity was founded\nin honour of her daughter by M. Aurelius.(1100)\n\nBut, while the emperors were responding to the call of charity by using\nthe resources of the State, it is clear, from the Letters of Pliny and\nfrom the inscriptions, that private benevolence was even more active.\nPliny has a conception of the uses and responsibilities of wealth which,\nin spite of the teaching of Galilee, is not yet very common. Although he\nwas not a very wealthy man, he acted up to his principles on a scale and\nproportion which only a few of our millionaires have yet reached. The\nlavish generosity of Pliny is a commonplace of social history. We have not\nthe slightest wish to detract from the merited fame of that kindliest of\nRoman gentlemen. But a survey of the inscriptions may incline the inquirer\nto believe that, according to their means, there were many men and women\nin obscure municipalities all over the world, who were as generous and\npublic-spirited as Pliny.(1101) With Pliny, as with those more obscure\nbenefactors, the impelling motive was love for the parent city or the\nvillage which was the home of their race, and where the years of youth had\nbeen passed. Pliny, the distinguished advocate, the famous man of letters,\nthe darling of Roman society, still remained the loyal son of Como, from\nwhich his love never strays.(1102) He followed and improved upon the\nexample of his father in munificence to his native place.(1103) He had\nlittle liking for games and gladiatorial shows, which were the most\npopular objects of liberality in those days. But he gave a sum of nearly\n\u00a39000 for the foundation of a town library, with an annual endowment of\nmore than \u00a3800 to maintain it.(1104) Finding that promising youths of Como\nhad to resort to Milan for their higher education, he offered to\ncontribute one-third of the expense of a high school at Como, if the\nparents would raise the remainder. The letter which records the offer\nshows Pliny at his best, wise and thoughtful as well as generous.(1105) He\nwishes to keep boys under the protection of home influence, to make them\nlovers of their mother city; and he limits his benefaction in order to\nstimulate the interest of the parents in the cause of education, and in\nthe appointment of the teachers. Another sum of between \u00a34000 and \u00a35000 he\ngave to Como for the support of boys and girls of the poorer class.(1106)\nHe also left more than \u00a34000 for public baths, and a sum of nearly \u00a316,000\nto his freedmen, and for communal feasts. On two of his estates he built\nor repaired temples at his own expense.(1107) His private benefactions\nwere on a similar scale. It is not necessary to adopt the cynical\nconclusion that Pliny has told us all his liberality. The kindly delicacy\nwith which Pliny claims the right of a second father to make up the dowry\nof the daughter of his friend Quintilian, might surely save him from such\nan imputation.(1108) In the same spirit he offers to Romatius Firmus the\n\u00a32500 which was needed to raise his fortune to the level of equestrian\nrank.(1109) When the philosophers were banished by Domitian, Pliny, who\nwas then praetor, at the most imminent risk visited his friend\nArtemidorus, and lent him, free of interest, a considerable sum of\nmoney.(1110) The daughter of one of his friends was left with an\nembarrassed estate; Pliny took up all the debts and left Calvina with an\ninheritance free from all burdens.(1111) He gave his old nurse a little\nestate which cost him about \u00a3800.(1112) But the amount of this good man\u2019s\ngifts, which might shame a modern testator with ten times his fortune, is\nnot so striking as the kindness which prompted them, and the modest\ndelicacy with which they were made.\n\nYet Pliny, as we have said, is only a shining example of a numerous class\nof more obscure benefactors. For a thousand who know his Letters, there\nare few who have read the stone records of similar generosity. Yet these\nmemorials abound for those who care to read them. And any one who will\nspend a few days, or even a few well-directed hours, in examining the\ninscriptions of the early Empire, will find many a common, self-complacent\nprejudice melting away. He will discover a profusion of generosity to add\nto the beauty, dignity, or convenience of the parent city, to lighten the\ndulness of ordinary life, to bring all ranks together in common scenes of\nenjoyment, to relieve want and suffering among the indigent. The motives\nof this extraordinary liberality were indeed often mixed, and it was, from\nour point of view, often misdirected. The gifts were sometimes made merely\nto win popularity, or to repay civic honours which had been conferred by\nthe populace. They were too often devoted to gladiatorial shows and other\nexhibitions which only debased the spectators. Yet the greatest part of\nthem were expended on objects of public utility\u2014baths, theatres, markets,\nor new roads and aqueducts, or on those public banquets which knitted all\nranks together. There was in those days an immense \u201ccivic ardour,\u201d an\nalmost passionate rivalry, to make the mother city a more pleasant and a\nmore splendid home. The endless foundations for civic feasts to all\norders, in which even children and slaves were not forgotten, with a\ndistribution of money at the close, softened the sharp distinctions of\nrank, and gave an appreciable relief to poverty. Other foundations were\nmore definitely inspired by charity and pity. In remote country towns,\nthere were pious founders who, like Pliny and Trajan, and the Antonines,\nprovided for the nurture of the children of the poor. Bequests were left\nto cheapen the main necessaries of life.(1113) Nor were the aged and the\nsick forgotten. In Lorium, near the old home of the Antonines, a humble\nspice dealer provided in his will for a free distribution of medicines to\nthe poor people of the town.(1114) The countless gifts and legacies to the\ncolleges, which were the refuge of the poor in that age, in every region\nof the Roman world, are an irresistible proof of an overflowing charity.\nPliny\u2019s love of the quiet town where his infancy was passed, and the\nrecord of a like patriotism or benevolence in so many others, draw us on\nto the study of that free and generous municipal life which was the great\nglory of the Antonine age.\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAPTER II\n\n\n                              MUNICIPAL LIFE\n\n\nNearly all the intimate friends of Pliny were, like himself, bred in the\ncountry, and, as we have seen, he has left us a priceless picture of that\nrural aristocracy in the calm refinement of their country seats. But of\nthe ordinary life of the provincial town we learn very little from Pliny.\nIndeed, the silence of Roman literature generally as to social life\noutside the capital is very remarkable.(1115) In the long line of great\nLatin authors from Ennius to Juvenal, there is hardly one whose native\nplace was Rome. The men who are the glory of Roman letters in epic and\nlyric poetry, in oratory and history, in comedy and satire, were born in\nquiet country towns in Italy or the remoter provinces. But the\nreminiscences of the scenes of their infancy will generally be found to be\nfaint and rare. Horace, indeed, displays a tender piety for that\nborderland of Apulia, where, in the glades of Mount Vultur as a child, he\ndrank inspiration from the witchery of haunted groves.(1116) And Martial,\nthe hardened man about town, never forgot the oak groves and iron\nfoundries of Bilbilis.(1117) But for the municipal system and life, the\nrelations of its various social grades, the humdrum routine of the shops\nand forums, the rustic rites and deities,(1118) the lingering echoes of\nthat dim common life with its vices and honest tenderness, its petty\nambitions or hopeless griefs, we must generally go to the records in\nstone, and the remains of buried cities which the spade has given back to\nthe light.\n\nThis silence of the literary class is not due to any want of love in the\nRoman for the calm and freshness and haunting charm of country scenes,\nstill less to callousness towards old associations. Certainly Virgil\ncannot be charged with any such lack of sensibility. In the Eclogues and\nthe Georgics, the memory of the old farm at Andes breaks through the more\nconventional sentiment of Alexandrian tradition. In the scenery of these\npoems, there are \u201cmossy fountains and grass softer than sleep,\u201d the hues\nof violet, poppy, and hyacinth, the shade of ancient ilex, and the yellow\nwealth of cornfield. We hear the murmur of bees, \u201cthe moan of doves in\nimmemorial elms,\u201d the rush of the river, the whispering of the wind. The\npastoral charm of the midsummer prime is there, from the freshness of\nfields under the morning star, through the hours alive with the song of\nthe cicala and the lowing of the herds around the pool, through the still,\nhot, vacant noontide, till the moonbeams are glinting on the dewy grasses\nof the glades.(1119) Nor can any lover of Virgil ever forget the fire of\nold sentiment in the muster of Italian chivalry in the seventh book of the\nAeneid.(1120) Tibur and Praeneste, Anagnia, Nomentum, and Amiternum, and\nmany another old Sabine town, which send forth their young warriors to the\nfray, are each stamped on the imagination by some grace of natural beauty,\nor some glory of ancient legend. In the Flavian period, as we have seen,\nthe great nobles had their villas on every pleasant site, wherever sea or\nhill or woodland offered a fair prospect and genial air. To these scenes\nthey hastened, like emancipated schoolboys, when the dog-days set in. They\nhad a genuine love of the unspoilt countryside, with its simple natural\npleasures, its husbandry of the olden time, its joyous plenty, above all\nits careless freedom and repose.(1121) The great charm of a rural retreat\nwas its distance from the \u201cnoise and smoke and wealth\u201d of Rome. The escape\nfrom the penalties of fame, from the boredom of interminable dinners, the\nintrusive importunity of curious busybodies, the malice of jealous rivals,\ngives a fresh zest to the long tranquil days under the ilex shade among\nthe Sabine hills.(1122) Horace probably felt more keenly than Juvenal the\ncharm of hill and stream and the scenes of rustic toils and gaiety. Yet\nthe exquisite good sense of Horace would have recoiled from the\ndeclamatory extravagance with which Juvenal justifies his friend\u2019s\nretirement from the capital, by a realistic picture of all its sordid\ntroubles and vices and absurdities.(1123) \u201cTo love Rome at Tibur and Tibur\nat Rome\u201d was the expression of the educated Roman\u2019s feelings in a form\nwhich he would have recognised to be as just as it was happy. In spite of\nthe charm of the country, to any real man of letters or affairs, the\nfascination of Rome was irresistible. Pliny, and no doubt hundreds of his\nclass, from Augustus to Theodosius, grumbled at the wasteful fashion in\nwhich their lives were frittered away by monotonous social duties, as\nimperious as they were generally vain.(1124) Yet to Pliny, as to\nSymmachus, the prospect of never again seeing the city, so seductive and\nso wearying, would have been absolutely intolerable. Martial, when he\nretired to Bilbilis, seems to pity his friend Juvenal, wandering\nrestlessly through the noisy Suburra, or climbing the Caelian in hot\nhaste, to hang on the outskirts of a levee.(1125) Yet in the preface to\nthis last book, Martial seems to feel his banishment as keenly as Ovid\nfelt his among the frozen rivers of Scythia.(1126) He misses in the\n\u201cprovincial solitude\u201d the sympathetic public which was eager for his\nlatest epigram, the fine critical judgment to appreciate, the concourse of\nelegant idlers to supply the matter for his verses.(1127) And worst of\nall, the most famous wit of Rome is now the mark for the ignorant spite\nand envy of a provincial clique. Martial evidently feels very much as Dr.\nJohnson would have felt if he had been compelled to live out his days in\nSkye. Juvenal may affect to regret the simple ways of those rustic places,\nwhere on festal days in the grass-grown theatre the infant in his mother\u2019s\narms shudders at the awful masks of the actors, and the aediles take their\nplaces in white tunics like the humble crowd.(1128) But, in spite of this\nsentiment, the true Roman had a certain contempt for municipal life,(1129)\nfor the narrow range of its interests, the ludicrous assumption of dignity\nby its petty magistrates, and its provincialisms.(1130) It was indeed only\nnatural that the splendour and the vivid energy of life in the capital of\nthe world should throw provincial life into the shade. Yet we can realise\nnow, as a Roman wit or man of fashion could hardly do, that the municipal\nsystem, which had overspread the world from the Solway to the edge of the\nSahara, was not the least glory of the Antonine age. And in any attempt to\nestimate the moral condition of the masses in that age, the influence of\nmunicipal life should occupy a large place.\n\nIt is beyond the scope of this work to trace provincial towns through all\ntheir various grades, and their evolution in the hands of Roman\nstatesmanship from the time of Augustus. What we are chiefly concerned\nwith is the spirit and the rapid development of that brilliant civic life,\nwhich not only covered the worlds both of East and West with material\nmonuments of Roman energy, but profoundly influenced for good, or\nsometimes for evil, the popular character. The magical transformation\nwrought by Roman rule in a century and a half seized the imagination of\ncontemporaries such as the rhetor Aristides. And the mere wreck of that\nbrilliant civilisation which now meets the traveller\u2019s eye, in regions\nthat have long returned to waste, will not permit us to treat his eulogy\nof Rome as only a piece of rhetoric. Regions, once desert solitudes, are\nthickly dotted with flourishing cities; the Empire is a realm of cities.\nThe world has laid the sword aside, and keeps universal festival, with all\npomp and gladness. All other feuds and rivalries are gone, and cities now\nvie with one another only in their splendour and their pleasures. Every\nspace is crowded with porticoes, gymnasia, temple fronts, with studios and\nschools.(1131) Sandy wastes, trackless mountains, and broad rivers present\nno barriers to the traveller, who finds his home and country everywhere.\nThe earth has become a vast pleasure garden.(1132)\n\nThis glowing description of the Roman world of the Antonine age is not\nperhaps strengthened by the appeal to the doubtful statistics of other\ncontemporaries, such as Aelian and Josephus. We may hesitate to accept the\nstatement that Italy had once 1197 cities, or that Gaul possessed\n1200.(1133) In these estimates, if they have any solid foundation, the\nterm \u201ccity\u201d must be taken in a very elastic sense. But there are other\nmore trustworthy reckonings which sufficiently support the glowing\ndescription of Aristides. When the Romans conquered Spain and Gaul, they\nfound a system of _pagi_ or cantons, with very few considerable towns. The\n800 towns which are said to have been taken by Julius Caesar can have been\nlittle more than villages. But the Romanisation of both countries meant\ncentralisation. Where the Romans did not find towns they created\nthem.(1134) Gradually, but rapidly, the isolated rural life became more\nsocial and urban. In the north-eastern province of Spain, out of 293\ncommunities in the time of the elder Pliny, 179 were in some sense urban,\n114 were still purely rustic;(1135) and we may be sure that this is an\nimmense advance on the condition of the country at the time of the\nconquest. In the reign of Antoninus Pius, only 27 of these rural districts\nremained without an organised civic centre.(1136) In Gaul, Julius Caesar\nimpressed the stamp of Rome on the province of Narbo, by founding cities\nof the Roman type, and his policy was continued by Augustus. The loose\ncantonal system almost disappeared from the province in the south,\nalthough it lingered long in the northern regions of Gaul. Yet even in the\nnorth, on the borders of Germany, Cologne, from the reign of Claudius,\nbecame the envy of the barbarians across the Rhine,(1137) and Tr\u00e8ves, from\nthe days of Augustus, already anticipated its glory as a seat of empire\nfrom Diocletian to Gratian and Valentinian.(1138) In the Agri Decumates,\nbetween the Rhine and Neckar, the remains of baths and aqueducts, the\nmosaics and bronzes and pottery, which antiquarian industry has collected\nand explored, attest the existence of at least 160 flourishing and\ncivilised communities.(1139) Baden was already a crowded resort for its\nhealing waters when, in A.D. 69, it was given up to fire and sword by\nCaecina in his advance to meet the army of Otho in the valley of the\nPo.(1140) The Danube was lined with flourishing communities of Roman\norigin. In the 170 years during which Dacia was included in the Empire,\nmore than 120 towns were organised by the conquering race.(1141) Greek\ncities, like Tomi on the Euxine, record their gratitude to their patrons\nin the same formal terms as Pompeii or Venusia.(1142) If we may believe\nPhilostratus, there were 500 flourishing cities in the province of Asia\nwhich more than rivalled the splendour of Ionia before the Lydian and\nPersian conquests.(1143) Many of these were of ancient origin, but many\nhad been founded by Rome.(1144) Laodicea was regarded as an unimportant\nplace in the reign of Tiberius; yet the wealth of its private citizens was\ncelebrated.(1145) One of them had attained a fortune which enabled him to\nbequeath it a sum of nearly half a million. The elder Pliny could reckon\n40 cities of importance in Egypt, which had in his time a population of\nover seven millions;(1146) and Alexandria, next after Rome herself, was\nregarded as the most dazzling ornament of the Empire.(1147)\n\nPerhaps nowhere, however, had the \u201cRoman peace\u201d worked greater miracles of\ncivic prosperity than in North Africa. That the population of Roman Africa\nwas in the period of the Empire extraordinarily dense, appears from the\nnumber of its episcopal sees, which in the fifth century had reached a\ntotal of 297.(1148) The remains of more than 20 amphitheatres can still be\ntraced. There is indeed no more startling proof of the range and sweep of\nRoman civilisation than the wreck of those capitols, forums, aqueducts,\nand temples in what are now sandy solitudes, not even occupied by a native\nvillage. In the province of Numidia, within a few leagues of the Sahara,\nthe Roman colony of Thamugadi (Timgad) was founded, as an inscription\ntells, by Trajan in the year 100.(1149) There, in what is now a scene of\nutter loneliness and desolation, the remains of a busy and well-organised\ncommunity have been brought to light by French explorers. The town was\nbuilt by the third legion, which for generations, almost as a hereditary\ncaste, protected Roman civilisation against the restless tribes of the\ndesert. The chief buildings were probably completed in 117. The\npreservation of so much, after eighteen centuries, is a proof that the\nwork was well and thoroughly done. The ruts of carriage wheels can still\nbe seen in the main street, which is spanned by a triumphal arch, adorned\nwith marble columns. Porticoes and colonnades gave shelter from the heat\nto the passers-by, and two fountains played at the further end. Water,\nwhich is now invisible on the spot, was then brought in channels from the\nhills, and distributed at a fixed rate among private houses.(1150) The\nforum was in the usual style, with raised side walks and porticoes, a\nbasilica, a senate-house and rostrum, a shrine of Fortuna Augusta, and a\ncrowd of statues to the emperors from M. Aurelius to Julian.(1151) This\npetty place had its theatre, where the seats can still be seen rising in\ntheir due gradation of rank. An imposing capitol, in which, as at home,\nthe Roman Trinity, Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva, were duly worshipped, was\nrestored in the reign of Valentinian I., and dedicated by that Publius\nCaeionius Albinus who was one of the last of the pagan aristocracy, and\nwho figures in the Letters of Symmachus and the _Saturnalia_ of\nMacrobius.(1152) The inscriptions on the site reveal the regular municipal\nconstitution, with the names of seventy decurions, each of whom probably\npaid his honorarium of \u00a313 or more when he entered on his office.(1153)\nThe honours of the duumvirate and the aedileship cost respectively \u00a332 and\n\u00a324.(1154) And here, as elsewhere, the public monuments and buildings were\ngenerally erected by private ambition or munificence. A statue and little\nshrine of Fortuna Augusta were given by two ladies, at a cost of over\n\u00a3200, in the days of Hadrian.(1155)\n\nThe greatest glory of the imperial administration for nearly two centuries\nwas the skilful and politic tolerance with which it reconciled a central\ndespotism with a remarkable range of local liberty. It did not attempt to\nimpose a uniform organisation or a bureaucratic control on the vast mass\nof races and peoples whom the fortune of Rome had brought under her sway.\nRather, for ages its guiding principle was, as far as possible, to leave\nancient landmarks undisturbed, and to give as much free play to local\nliberties as was compatible with the safety and efficiency of the imperial\nguardian of order and peace. Hence those many diversities in the relation\nbetween provincial towns and Rome, represented by the names of free,\nfederate, or stipendiary cities, municipium and colonia. Many retained\ntheir old laws, constitution, and judicial system.(1156) They retained in\nsome cases the names of magistracies, which recalled the days of\nindependence: there were still archons at Athens, suffetes in African\ntowns, demarchs at Naples. The title of medixtuticus still lingered here\nand there in old Oscan communities.(1157) When she had crushed the\nnational spirit, and averted the danger of armed revolt, Rome tolerated,\nand even fostered, municipal freedom, for more than a hundred years after\nthe last shadowy pretence of popular government had disappeared from her\nown forum.(1158) Central control and uniformity were established in those\ndepartments which affected the peace and welfare of the whole vast\ncommonwealth. Although the interference of the provincial governor in\nlocal administration was theoretically possible in varying degrees, yet it\nmay well be doubted whether a citizen of Lyons or Marseilles, of Antioch\nor Alexandria, was often made conscious of any limitation of his freedom\nby imperial power. While delation and confiscation and massacre were\nworking havoc on the banks of the Tiber, the provinces were generally\ntranquil and prosperous. The people elected their magistrates, who\nadministered municipal affairs with little interference from government.\nThe provincial administration of a Nero, an Otho, a Vitellius, or a\nDomitian was often no less prudent and considerate than that of a\nVespasian or a Trajan.(1159) And the worst of the emperors share with the\nbest in the universal gratitude of the provinces for the blessings of the\n\u201cRoman peace.\u201d(1160)\n\nBut although for generations there was a settled abstinence from\ncentralisation on the part of the imperial government, the many varieties\nof civic constitution in the provinces tended by an irresistible drift to\na uniform type of organisation. Free and federate communities voluntarily\nsought the position of a colony or a municipium.(1161) Just as the\nprovincial town must have its capitol, with the cult of Jupiter, Juno, and\nMinerva, or imported the street names Velabrum or Vicus Tuscus, so the\nlittle community called itself _respublica_, its commons the _populus_,\nits curia the senate or the _amplissimus et splendidissimus ordo_; its\nmagistrates sometimes bore the majestic names of praetor, dictator, or\ncensor, in a few cases even of consul.(1162) This almost ludicrous\nimitation of the great city is an example of the magical power which Rome\nalways exercised on her most distant subjects, and even on the outer world\nof barbarism, down to the last days when her forces were ebbing away. The\nease and rapidity of communication along the great routes, the frequent\nvisits of proconsuls and procurators and generals, with the numerous train\nwhich attended them, the presence of the ubiquitous Roman merchant and\ntraveller, kept even remote places in touch with the capital. The _acta\ndiurna_, with official news and bits of scandal and gossip, regularly\narrived in distant provincial towns and frontier camps.(1163) The last\nspeech of Pliny, or the freshest epigrams of Martial, were within a short\ntime selling on the bookstalls of Lyons or Vienne.(1164) Until the\nappearance of railways and steamboats, it may be doubted whether there was\nany age in history in which travelling was easier or more general.\n\nApart from the immense stimulus which was given to trade and commerce by\nthe pacification of the world, liberal curiosity, or restless ennui, or\nthe passion to preach and propagate ideas, carried immense numbers to the\nmost distant lands.(1165) The travelling sophist found his way to towns on\nthe edge of the Scythian steppes, to the home of the Brahmans, or to the\ndepths of the Soudan.(1166) The tour up the Nile was part of a liberal\nculture in the days of Lucian as it was in the days of Herodotus. The\nromantic charm of travel in Greece was probably heightened for many by the\ntales of Thessalian brigands and sorceresses which meet us in the novel of\nApuleius. The Emperor Hadrian, who visited almost every interesting scene\nin his dominions, from the Solway to the Euphrates, often trudging for\ndays at the head of his soldiers, is a true representative of the\nmigratory tastes of his time. Seneca, indeed, finds in this rage for\nchange of scene only a symptom of the universal unrest. Epictetus, on the\nother hand, and Aristides expatiate with rapture on the universal security\nand wellbeing, due to the disappearance of brigandage, piracy, and war.\nThe seas are alive with merchantmen; deserts have become populous scenes\nof industry; the great roads are carried over the broadest rivers and the\nmost defiant mountain barriers. The earth has become the common possession\nof all. Nor is this mere rhetoric. Travelling to all parts of the known\nworld had become expeditious, and even luxurious. From the Second Punic\nWar, traders, couriers, and travellers had moved freely along the great\nroads.(1167) The government post, which was first organised by Augustus on\nthe model of the Persian, provided at regular intervals the means of\nconveyance for officials, or for those furnished with the requisite\ndiploma. Private enterprise had also organised facilities of travel, and\nat the gates of country towns such as Pompeii, Praeneste, or Tibur, there\nwere stations of the posting corporations (the _cisiarii_ or _jumentarii_)\nwhere carriages could be hired, with change of horses at each stage.(1168)\nThe speed with which great distances were traversed in those days is at\nfirst sight rather startling. Caesar once travelled 100 miles a day in a\njourney from Rome to the Rhone.(1169) The freedman Icelus in seven days\ncarried the news of Nero\u2019s death to Galba in Spain,(1170) the journey of\n332 miles from Tarraco to Clunia having been made at the rate of nearly\nten miles an hour. This of course was express speed. The ordinary rate of\ntravelling is probably better represented by the leisurely journey of\nHorace and Maecenas to Brundisium, or that of Martial\u2019s book from Tarraco\nto Bilbilis.(1171) About 130 miles a day was the average distance\naccomplished by sea. Vessels put out from Ostia or Puteoli for every port\nin the Mediterranean. From Puteoli to Corinth was a voyage of five days.\nAbout the same time was needed to reach Tarraco from Ostia. A ship might\narrive at Alexandria from the Palus Maeotis in a fortnight.(1172) Many a\nwandering sophist, like Dion Chrysostom or Apollonius of Tyana, traversed\ngreat distances on foot, or with a modest wallet on a mule. The rhetor\nAristides once spent a hundred days in a journey at mid-winter from Mysia\nto Rome.(1173) But there was hardly any limit to the luxury and\nostentatious splendour with which the great and opulent made their\nprogresses, attended or preceded by troops of footmen and runners, and\ncarrying with them costly plate and myrrhine vases.(1174) The thousand\ncarriages which Nero took with him on a progress, the silver-shod mules of\nPoppaea, the paraphernalia of luxury described by Seneca, if they are not\nmythical, were probably the exceptional displays of a self-indulgence\nbordering on lunacy.(1175) But practical and sensible comfort in\ntravelling was perhaps then commoner than it was, until quite recently,\namong ourselves. The carriages in which the two indefatigable Plinies used\nto ride, enabled them to read at their ease, or dictate to an\namanuensis.(1176) The inns, from the time of Horace to the time of\nSidonius, were as a rule bad, and frequently disreputable, and even\ndangerous, places of resort.(1177) And vehicles were often arranged for\nsleeping on a journey. We may be sure that many an imperial officer after\nthe time of Julius Caesar passed nights in his carriage, while hurrying to\njoin the forces on the Rhine or the Danube. With all this rapid\ncirculation of officials and travellers, the far-stretching limits of the\nRoman world must, to the general eye, have contracted, the remotest places\nwere drawn more and more towards the centre, and the inexhaustible\nvitality of the imperial city diffused itself with a magical power of\nsilent transformation.\n\nThe modes in which the fully developed municipalities of the Antonine age\nhad originated and were organised were very various. Wherever, as in the\nGreek East or Carthaginian Africa, towns already existed, the Romans, of\ncourse, used them in their organisation of a province, although they added\nliberally to the number, as in Syria, Pontus, and Cappadocia.(1178) Where\na country was still in the cantonal state, the villages or markets were\ngrouped around a civic centre, and a municipal town, such as N\u00eemes or\nLyons, would thus become the metropolis of a considerable tract of\nterritory. The colony of Vienne was the civic centre of the\nAllobroges.(1179) In the settlement of the Alps many of the remote\nmountain cantons were attached to towns such as Tridentum, Verona, or\nBrixia.(1180) Sometimes, as in Dacia, the civic organisation was created\nat a stroke.(1181) But it is well known that, especially towards the\nfrontiers of the Empire, in Britain, on the Rhine, and in North Africa,\nthe towns of the second century had often grown out of the _castra\nstativa_ of the legions.\n\nThe great reorganisation of Augustus had made each legion a permanent\ncorps, with a history and identity of its own. To ensure the tranquillity\nof the Empire the legions were distributed in permanent camps along the\nfrontier, the only inland cities with a regular military garrison being\nLyons and Carthage.(1182) Many legions never changed their quarters for\ngenerations. The Tertia Augusta, which has left so many memorials of\nitself in the inscriptions of Lambaesis, remained, with only a single\nbreak, in the same district from the time of Augustus to that of\nDiocletian.(1183) There, for two generations, it kept sleepless watch\nagainst the robber tribes of the Sahara. The legion was also peacefully\nemployed in erecting fortifications and making roads and bridges, when the\ncamp was visited by Hadrian in the year 130.(1184) Gradually soldiers were\nallowed to form family relations, more or less regular, until, under\nSeptimius Severus, the legionary was permitted to live in his household\nlike any other citizen.(1185) From the remains at Lambaesis, it is now\nconsidered certain that, in the third century, the camp had ceased to be\nthe soldier\u2019s home. The suttlers and camp-followers had long gathered in\nthe neighbourhood of the camp, in huts which were called _Canabae\nlegionis_. There, for a long time, the soldier, when off duty, sought his\npleasures and amusements, and there, after the changes of Septimius\nSeverus, he took up his abode. At first the Canabae of Lambaesis was only\na _vicus_; it became, under Marcus Aurelius, a _municipium_\u2014the\n_Respublica Lambaesitanorum_, with the civic constitution which is\nrendered familiar to us by so many inscriptions.(1186) The Legionaries\nseem to have been happy and contented at Lambaesis; their sons were\ntrained to arms and followed their fathers in the ranks;(1187) the legion\nbecame to some extent a hereditary caste. Old veterans remained on the\nscene of their service, after receiving their discharge with a pension\nfrom the chest.(1188) The town developed in the regular fashion, and\ndignified itself by a capitol, an amphitheatre, two forums, a triumphal\narch; and the many monuments of public and private life found on the site\nreveal a highly organised society, moulded out of barbarous and alien\nelements, and stamped with the inimitable and enduring impress of Rome.\nOut of such casual and unpromising materials sprang numbers of urban\ncommunities, which reproduced, in their outline and in their social tone,\nthe forms and spirit of the free Republic of Rome. The capitol and the\nforum are merely the external symbols of a closer bond of parentage. The\nRoman military discipline did not more completely master and transform the\nNumidian or Celtic recruit, than the inspiration of her civil polity\ndiffused among races imbruted by servitude, or instinct with the love of a\nlawless, nomadic freedom, the sober attachment to an ordered civic life\nwhich was obedient to a long tradition, yet vividly interested in its own\naffairs.\n\nOn hardly any side of ancient life is the information furnished by the\ninscriptions so rich as on the spirit and organisation of municipalities.\nHere one may learn details of communal life which are never alluded to in\nRoman literature. From this source, also, we must seek the only authentic\nmaterials for the reconstruction of a municipality of the first century.\nThe _Album Canusii_ and the tablets containing the laws of Malaga and\nSalpensa have not only settled more than one question as to the municipal\norganisation of the early Empire, but have enabled us to form almost as\nclear-cut a conception of it as we have of the corporate organisation of\nour own great towns.\n\nBut, unlike our civic republics, the Roman municipal town was distinctly\naristocratic, or rather timocratic, in its constitution. A man\u2019s place in\nthe community, as a rule, was fixed by his ancestry, his official grade,\nor his capacity to spend. The dictum of Trimalchio was too literally true\nin the municipal life of that age\u2014\u201ca man is what he is worth.\u201d Provincial\nsociety was already parted and graduated, though less decidedly, by those\nrigid lines of materialistic demarcation which became gaping fissures in\nthe society of the Theodosian code. The Curia or Senate was open only to\nthe possessor of a certain fortune; at Como, for instance, HS.100,000,\nelsewhere perhaps even more. On the other hand, the richest freedman could\nnot become a member of the Curia or hold any civic magistracy,(1189)\nalthough he might be decorated with their insignia. His ambition had to be\nsatisfied with admission to the order of the Augustales, which ranked\nsocially after the members of the Curia. In the list of the Curia, which\nwas revised every five years, the order of official and social precedence\nwas most scrupulously observed. In the Album Canusii of the year A.D.\n223,(1190) the first rank is assigned to thirty-nine patrons, who have\nheld imperial office, or who are senators or knights. Next come the local\nmagnates who have been dignified by election to any of the four great\nmunicipal magistracies. Last in order are the _pedani_, that is, the\ncitizens possessing the requisite qualification, who have not yet held any\nmunicipal office. At the bottom of the list stand twenty-five\n_praetextati_, who were probably the sons of the more distinguished\ncitizens, and who, like the sons of senators of the Republic, were silent\nwitnesses of the proceedings in the Curia. From this body, and from all\nthe magistracies, all persons engaged in certain mean or disgraceful\noccupations were expressly excluded, along with the great mass of the\npoorer citizens, the _tenuiores_. The taint of servile birth, the\npossession of _libertinae opes_, was an indelible blot. In countless\ninscriptions this gradation of rank is sharply accentuated. If a man\nleaves a bequest for an annual feast, with a distribution of money, the\nrich patron or the decurio will receive perhaps five times the amount\nwhich is doled out to the simple plebeian.(1191) The distinction of rank,\neven in punishment for crime, which meets us everywhere in the Theodosian\nCode, has already appeared. The _honestior_ is not to be degraded by the\npunishment of crucifixion or by the stroke of the rod.(1192) But it is on\ntheir tombs that the passion of the Romans for some sort of distinction,\nhowever shadowy, shows itself most strikingly. On these slabs every grade\nof dignity in a long career is enumerated with minute care. The exact\nvalue of a man\u2019s public benefactions or his official salary will be\nrecorded with pride.(1193) Even the dealer in aromatics or in rags will\nmake a boast of some petty office in the college of his trade.(1194) But,\nalthough rank and office were extravagantly valued in these societies,\nwealth was after all the great distinction. The cities were in the hands\nof the rich, and, in return for social deference and official power, the\nrich were expected to give lavishly to all public objects. The worship of\nwealth, the monumental flattery of rich patrons and benefactors, was very\ninterested and servile. On the other hand, there probably never was a time\nwhen the duties of wealth were so powerfully enforced by opinion, or so\ncheerfully, and even recklessly, performed.\n\nYet, although these communities were essentially aristocratic in tone and\nconstitution, the commonalty still retained some power in the Antonine\nage. On many inscriptions they appear side by side with the Curial \u201cordo\u201d\nand the Augustales.(1195) They had still in the reign of Domitian the\nright to elect their magistrates. It was long believed that, with the\nsuppression of popular elections at Rome in the reign of Tiberius, the\npopular choice of their great magistrates must also have been withdrawn\nfrom municipal towns.(1196) This has now been disproved by the discovery\nof the laws of Malaga and Salpensa, in which the most elaborate provisions\nare made for a free and uncontaminated election by the whole people.(1197)\nAnd we can still almost hear the noise of election days among the ruins of\nPompeii.(1198) Many of the inscriptions of Pompeii are election placards,\nrecommending particular candidates. There, in red letters painted on the\nwalls, we can read that \u201cthe barbers wish to have Trebius as aedile,\u201d or\nthat \u201cthe fruit-sellers, with one accord, support the candidature of\nHolconius Priscus for the duumvirate.\u201d The porters, muleteers, and garlic\ndealers have each their favourite. The master fuller, Vesonius Primus,\nbacks Cn. Helvius as a worthy man. Even ladies took part in the contest\nand made their separate appeals. \u201cHis little sweetheart\u201d records that she\nis working for Claudius.(1199) Personal popularity no doubt then, as\nalways, attracted such electoral support. But the student of the\ninscriptions may be inclined to think that the free and independent\nelectors had also a keen eye for the man who was likely to build a new\ncolonnade for the forum, or a new _schola_ for the guild, or, best of all,\nto send down thirty pairs of gladiators into the arena \u201cwith plenty of\nblood.\u201d(1200)\n\nThe laws of Malaga and Salpensa prescribe, in the fullest detail, all the\nforms to be observed in the election of magistrates. These were generally\nsix in number\u2014two duumvirs,(1201) who were the highest officers, two\naediles, and two quaestors, for each year. Every fifth year, instead of\nthe duumvirs, two _quinquennales_ were elected, with the extraordinary\nduty of conducting the municipal census.(1202) The candidates for all\nthese offices were required to be free born, of the age of twenty-five at\nleast, of irreproachable character, and the possessors of a certain\nfortune. The qualifications were the same as those prescribed by the _lex\nJulia_ for admission to the municipal Senate, which expressly excluded\npersons engaged in certain disreputable callings\u2014gladiators, actors,\npimps, auctioneers, and undertakers.(1203) In the best days the\ncompetition for office was undoubtedly keen, and the candidates were\nnumerous. In the year A.D. 4, the year of the death of C. Caesar, the\ngrandson of Augustus, so hot was the rivalry that the town of Pisa was\nleft without magistrates owing to serious disturbances at the\nelections.(1204) But it is an ominous fact that the law of Malaga, in the\nreign of Domitian, makes provision for the contingency of a failure of\ncandidates. In such a case the presiding duumvir was to nominate the\nrequired number, they in turn an equal number, and the combined nominees\nhad to designate a third set equal in number to themselves. The choice of\nthe people was then restricted to these involuntary candidates. The city\nhas evidently advanced a stage towards the times of the Lower Empire, when\nthe magistrates were appointed by the Curia from among themselves, with no\nreference to the people.(1205) A man might, indeed, well hesitate before\noffering himself for an office which imposed a heavy expenditure on the\nholder of it. The honorarium payable on admission amounted, in an obscure\nplace like Thamugadi, to about \u00a332 for the duumvirate, and \u00a324 for the\naedileship.(1206) In the greater Italian cities it probably would be much\nmore; at Pompeii the newly elected duumvir paid more than \u00a380.(1207) But\nthe man chosen by the people often felt bound to outstrip the bare demands\nof law or custom by a prodigal liberality. He must build or repair some\npublic work, to signalise his year of office, and, at the dedication of\nit, good taste required him to exhibit costly games, or to give a banquet\nto the citizens, with a largess to all of every rank small or great.(1208)\n\nBut in return for its liabilities, the position of a duumvir gave\nundoubted power and distinction. The office was the image or shadow of the\nancient consulship, and occasionally, as the inscriptions attest, a\nHadrian or an Antoninus Pius did not disdain to accept it.(1209) The\nduumvirs commanded the local militia, when it was, on emergency, called\nout.(1210) They presided at meetings of the people and the Curia, they\nproposed questions for their deliberation, and carried the decrees into\neffect. They had civil jurisdiction up to a certain amount, and their\ncriminal jurisdiction, which, in the third century, had been transferred\nto imperial functionaries, was, according to the most probable opinion,\nundiminished at least down to the end of the first century.(1211) This\njudicial power, however, was limited by the _intercessio_ of colleagues\nand the right of appeal. They had extensive responsibilities in finance,\nfor the collection of dues and taxes, and the recovery of all moneys owing\nto the municipality.(1212) After the fall of the free Republic, when so\nmany avenues of ambition were closed, many an able man might well satisfy\nhis desire for power and distinction by the duumvirate of a provincial\ntown.\n\nThe Curia, or local senate, is peculiarly interesting to the historical\nstudent, because it was to the conversion of the curiales into a\nhereditary caste, loaded with incalculable liabilities, that the decay of\nthe Western Empire was to a large extent due.(1213) But, in the reign of\nDomitian, the Curia is still erect and dignified. Although the individual\ndecurio seldom or never assumes the title senator in the\ninscriptions,(1214) the Curia as a whole often bears the august name and\ntitles of the majestic Roman Senate.(1215) And assuredly down to the\nmiddle of the second century there was no lack of candidates for\nadmission. Every five years the roll of the Curia was revised and drawn up\nafresh by the quinquennales. The conditions were those for holding a\nmagistracy, including a property qualification, which varied in different\nplaces.(1216) The number of ordinary members was generally 100.(1217) But\nit was swelled by patrons and other extraordinary members. The\nquinquennales, in framing the list, took first the members on the roll of\nthe previous term, and then those who had been elected to magistracies\nsince the last census. If any vacancies were still left, they were filled\nup from the ranks of those who, not having yet held any municipal office,\nwere otherwise qualified by the possession of a sufficient fortune.(1218)\nIn the _Album Canusii_, the men who had held official rank constitute at\nleast two-thirds of the Curia. In the composition of such a body there\nwould appear to be ample security for administrative skill and experience.\nAnd yet we shall find that it was precisely through want of prudence or\nskill that the door was opened for that bureaucratic interference which,\nin the second century, began, with momentous results, to sap the freedom\nand independence of municipal life.\n\nThe honours and powers of the provincial council were long sufficient to\ncompensate the decurio for the heavy demands made upon his generosity. To\nall but comparatively few the career of imperial office and distinction\nwas closed. His own town became each man\u2019s \u201cpatria,\u201d as Como was even to a\nman like Pliny, who played so great a part in the life of the\ncapital.(1219) There is the ring of a very genuine public spirit and a\nlove for the local commonwealth in a host of the inscriptions of that\nage.(1220) The vastness and overwhelming grandeur of a world-wide Empire,\nin which the individual citizen was a mere atom, made men crave for any\ndistinction which seemed to raise them above the grey flat level which\nsurrounds a democratic despotism. And even the ordinary decurio had some\nbadges to mark him off from the crowd. The pompous honorific titles of the\nLower Empire, indeed, had not come into vogue. But the Curial had a place\nof honour at games and festivals, a claim to a larger share in the\ndistributions of money by private benefactors, exemption, as one of the\n_honestiores_, from the more degrading forms of punishment, the free\nsupply of water from the public sources,(1221) and other perquisites and\nhonours, which varied in different localities. The powers of the Curia\nwere also very considerable. The duumvirs indeed possessed extensive\nprerogatives which strong men may have sometimes strained.(1222) But there\nwas a right of appeal to the Curia from judicial decisions of the duumvirs\nin certain cases. And their control of games and festivals, and of the\nfinances of the community, was limited by the necessity of consulting the\nCuria and of carrying out its orders.(1223) In the _lex Ursonensis_ we\nfind a long list of matters on which the duumvirs were obliged to take\ntheir instructions from the Curia.(1224) The quorum needed for a valid\ndecision varied in different places. In the election of a patron a quorum\nof two-thirds of the decurions was legally required.(1225) The names of\nthe duoviri appeared at the head of every curial decree, as those of the\nconsuls in every senatusconsultum.\n\nAfter the local aristocracy of curial rank came, in order of social\nprecedence, members of the knightly class and the order of the Augustales.\nIn the latter half of the first century equestrian rank had been conferred\nwith perhaps too lavish a hand. And satire was never tired of ridiculing\nthese sham aristocrats, Bithynian knights as they were called, often of\nthe lowest origin, who on public occasions vulgarly asserted their\nmushroom rank.(1226) In particular, the army contributed many new knights\nto the society of the provincial towns. A veteran, often of humble birth,\nwho had risen to the first place among the sixty centurions of a legion,\nwas, on his discharge with a good pension, sometimes raised to equestrian\nrank. He frequently returned to his native place, where he became a\npersonage of some mark. Such men, along with old officers of higher grade,\nfrequently appear in the inscriptions invested with priesthoods and high\nmagistracies,(1227) and were sometimes chosen as patrons of the\ncommunity.(1228) Many of them were undoubtedly good and public-spirited\nmen, with the peculiar virtues which the life of the Roman camp\nengendered. But some of their class also displayed that coarse and brutal\nself-assertion, and that ignorant contempt for the refinement of culture,\non which Persius and Juvenal poured their scorn.(1229)\n\nThe Augustales, ranking next to the curial order, are peculiarly\ninteresting, both as representing the wide diffusion of the cult of the\nemperors, and as a class composed of men of low, or even servile origin,\nwho had made their fortunes in trade, yet whose ambition society found the\nmeans of satisfying, without breaking down the barriers of aristocratic\nexclusiveness.(1230) The origin of the order of the Augustales was long a\nsubject of debate. But it has now been placed beyond doubt that in the\nprovincial towns it was a plebeian institution for the cult of Augustus,\nand succeeding emperors, modelled on the aristocratic order of the Sodales\nAugustales, which was established by Tiberius in the capital.(1231) The\nAugustales were elected by vote of the local curia, without regard to\nsocial rank, although probably with due respect to wealth, and they\nincluded the leaders of the great freedman class, whose emergence is one\nof the most striking facts in the social history of the time. Figuring on\nscores of inscriptions, the Augustales are mentioned only once in extant\nRoman literature, in the novel of Petronius, where the class has been\nimmortalised, and probably caricatured.(1232) The inscription, for which\nTrimalchio gives an order to his brother Augustal, the stone-cutter, is to\nrecord his election in absence to the Sevirate, his many virtues and his\nmillions. Actual monuments at Assisi and Brescia show that Trimalchio was\nnot an altogether imaginary person.(1233)\n\nYet the Augustales, in spite of the vulgar ostentation and self-assertion,\nwhich have characterised similar classes of the _nouveaux riches_ in all\nages, were a very important and useful order. They overspread the whole\nRoman world in the West. Their monuments have been traced, not only in\nalmost every town in Italy, and in great provincial capitals, like Lyons\nor Tarraco, but in Alpine valleys and lonely outposts of civilisation on\nthe edge of the Sahara.(1234) Their special religious duties involved\nconsiderable expense, from which no doubt the more aristocratic class were\nglad to be relieved. They had to bear the cost of sacrifices and\nfestivities on certain days in honour of dead emperors. They had to pay an\nentrance fee on admission to the college, which the ambitious among them\nwould often lavishly exceed.(1235) They were organised on the lines of\nother colleges, with patrons, quinquennales, and other officials. They had\ntheir club-houses where their banquets were regularly held, they possessed\nlanded property, and had their common places of burial.(1236) But their\nexpenditure and their interests were by no means limited to their own\nimmediate society. They regarded themselves, and were generally treated as\npublic officials, ranking next to the magistrates of the Curia. They had\nthe right to wear the purple-bordered toga, and to have lictors attending\nthem in the streets.(1237) Places of honour were reserved for them at the\ngames and festivals. Although as a class they were not eligible for a seat\nin the Curia, or for the municipal magistracies, yet the _ornamenta_, the\nexternal badges and honours attached to these offices, were sometimes\ngranted even to freedmen who had done service to the community. Thus an\nAugustal who had paved a road at Cales received the _ornamenta_ of a\ndecurio.(1238) And another, for his munificence to Pompeii, by a decree of\nthe Curia, was awarded the use of the _bisellium_, a seat of honour which\nwas usually reserved for the highest dignitaries.(1239) But the ornaments\nand dignities of their own particular college became objects of pride and\nambition. Thus a man boasts of having been made _primus Augustalis\nperpetuus_, by a decree of the Curia.(1240) A worthy of Brundisium\nreceived from the Curia a public funeral, with the ornaments and insignia\nof an Augustal.(1241) In this way, in a society highly conventional, and\ndominated by caste feeling, the order of the Augustales provided both a\nstimulus and a reward for the public spirit of a new class, powerful in\nits wealth and numbers, but generally encumbered by the heritage of a\ndoubtful origin. It was a great elevation for a man, who, perhaps, had\nbeen sold as a boy in some Syrian slave market into the degradation of a\nminion, and who had emerged, by petty savings or base services, into the\ncomparative freedom of a tainted or despised trade, to find himself at\nlast holding a conspicuous rank in his municipality, and able to purchase\nhonour and deference from those who had trampled on him in his youth.\n\nThe Augustales shared with the members of the Curia the heavy burdens\nwhich public sentiment then imposed upon the rich. Direct taxation for\nmunicipal purposes was in the first century almost unknown. The\nmunicipalities often possessed landed property, mines, or quarries. Capua\nis said to have had distant possessions in the island of Crete.(1242) The\ntowns also derived an income from the public baths,(1243) from the rent of\nshops and stalls in the public places, from the supply of water to private\nhouses or estates, and from port dues and tolls. A very considerable item\nof revenue must have been found in the fee which all decurions,\nAugustales, and magistrates paid on entering on their office or dignity.\nSince the reign of Nerva, the towns had the right of receiving legacies\nand bequests.(1244) And, on the occurrence of any desolating calamity, an\nearthquake or a fire, the emperor was never slow or niggardly in giving\nrelief. In the year 53 A.D. the town of Bologna received an imperial\nsubsidy of about \u00a383,000.(1245) The cities of Asia were again and again\nrelieved after desolating earthquakes.(1246)\n\nWith regard to municipal expenditure, the budget was free from many public\ncharges which burden our modern towns. The higher offices were unpaid, and\nin fact demanded large generosity from their holders. The lower functions\nwere discharged, to a great extent, by communal slaves. The care or\nconstruction of streets, markets, and public buildings, although\ntheoretically devolving on the community through their aediles, was, as a\nmatter of fact, to an enormous extent undertaken by private persons. The\ncity treasury must have often incurred a loss in striving to provide corn\nand oil for the citizens at a limited price, and the authorities were\noften reviled, as at Trimalchio\u2019s banquet, for not doing more to cheapen\nthe necessaries of life.(1247) Although our information as to municipal\nexpenditure on education and medical treatment is scanty, it is pretty\nclear that the community was, in the Antonine age, beginning to recognise\na duty in making provision for both. Vespasian first gave a public\nendowment to professors of rhetoric in the capital.(1248) The case of\nComo, described in Pliny\u2019s Letters, was probably not an isolated one.\nFinding that the youth of that town were compelled to resort to Milan for\nhigher instruction, Pliny, as we have seen, proposed to the parents to\nestablish by general subscription a public school, and he offered himself\nto contribute one-third of the sum required for the foundation, the rest\nto be provided by the townsfolk, who were to have the management and\nselection of teachers in their hands.(1249) The Greek cities had public\nphysicians 500 years before Christ,(1250) and Marseilles and some of the\nGallic towns in Strabo\u2019s day employed both teachers and doctors at the\npublic expense.(1251) The regular organisation of public medical\nattendance in the provinces dates from Antoninus Pius, who required the\ntowns of Asia to have a certain number of physicians among their salaried\nofficers.(1252) The title _Archiater_, which in the Theodosian Code\ndesignates an official class in the provinces as well as at Rome, is found\nin inscriptions of Beneventum and Pisaurum belonging to an earlier\ndate.(1253) But these departments of municipal expenditure were hardly yet\nfully organised in the age of the Antonines, and were probably not\nburdensome. The great field of expenditure lay in the basilicas, temples,\namphitheatres, baths, and pavements, whose vanishing remains give us a\nglimpse of one of the most brilliant ages in history.\n\nThe municipal towns relied largely on the voluntary munificence of their\nwealthy members for great works of public utility or splendour. But we\nhave many records of such enterprises carried out at the common expense,\nand the name of a special magistracy (_curator operum publicorum_) to\nsuperintend them meets us often in the inscriptions.(1254) These\nundertakings were frequently on a great scale. The famous bridge of\nAlcantara was erected in the reign of Trajan by the combined efforts of\neleven municipalities in Portugal.(1255) In Bithynia the finances of some\nof the great towns had been so seriously disorganised by expensive and\nill-managed undertakings that the younger Pliny was in the year 111 A.D.\nsent as imperial legate by Trajan to repair the misgovernment of the\nprovince.(1256) Pliny\u2019s correspondence throws a flood of light on many\npoints of municipal administration, and foreshadows its coming decay. The\ncities appear to have ample funds, but they are grossly mismanaged. There\nis plenty of public money seeking investment, but borrowers cannot be\nfound at the current rate of 12 per cent. Pliny would have been inclined\nto compel the decurions to become debtors of the state, but Trajan orders\nthe rate of interest to be put low enough to attract voluntary\nborrowers.(1257) Apamea, although it had the ancient privilege of managing\nits own affairs, requested Pliny to examine the public accounts.(1258) He\ndid the same for Prusa, and found many signs of loose and reckless\nfinance, and probable malversation.(1259) Nicaea had spent \u00a380,000 on a\ntheatre, which, from some faults either in the materials or the\nfoundation, was settling, with great fissures in the walls.(1260) The city\nhad also expended a large sum in rebuilding its gymnasium on a sumptuous\nscale, but the fabric had been condemned by a new architect for radical\ndefects of structure. Nicomedia has squandered \u00a340,000 on two aqueducts\nwhich have either fallen or been abandoned.(1261) In authorising the\nconstruction of a third the emperor might well emphatically order the\nresponsibility for such blunders to be fastened on the proper\npersons.(1262) In the same city, when a fire of a most devastating kind\nhad recently occurred, there was no engine, not even a bucket ready, and\nthe inhabitants stood idly by as spectators.(1263) Pliny was most\nassiduous in devising or promoting engineering improvements for the health\nand convenience of the province, and often called for expert assistance\nfrom Rome. Irregularities in the working of the civic constitutions also\ngave him much trouble. The _ecdicus_ or _defensor_ has demanded repayment\nof a largess made to one Julius Piso from the treasury of Amisus, which\nthe decrees of Trajan now forbade.(1264) Just as Pliny had suggested that\nmembers of a curia should be forced to accept loans from the State, so we\ncan see ominous signs of a wish to compel men to accept the curial dignity\nbeyond the legal number, in order to secure the honorarium of from \u00a335 to\n\u00a370 on their admission.(1265) The _Lex Pompeia_, which forbade a Bithynian\nmunicipality to admit to citizenship men from other Bithynian states, had\nlong been ignored, and in numbers of cities there were many sitting in the\nsenate in violation of the law. The Pompeian law also required that a man\nshould be thirty years of age when he was elected to a magistracy or took\nhis place in the Curia, but a law of Augustus had reduced the limit for\nthe minor magistracies to twenty-two. Here was a chance of adding to the\nstrength of the Curia which was seized by the municipal censors. And if a\nminor magistrate might enter the Curia as a matter of course at\ntwenty-two, why not others equally fit?(1266) In another typical case the\nlegate was disturbed by the lavish hospitality of leading citizens. On the\nassumption of the toga, at a wedding, or an election to civic office, or\nthe dedication of a public work, not only the whole of the Curia, but a\nlarge number of the common people, were often invited to a banquet and\nreceived from their host one or two denarii apiece.(1267) Pliny was\nprobably unnecessarily alarmed. The inscriptions show us the same scenes\nall over the Empire,(1268) and the emperor with calm dignity leaves the\nquestion of such entertainments to the prudence of his lieutenant.\n\nThere are many religious questions submitted to the emperor in these\ncelebrated despatches, especially those relating to the toleration of\nChristians.(1269) But, however profoundly interesting, they lie beyond the\nscope of this chapter. We are occupied with the secular life of the\nprovincial town. And the Letters of Pliny place some things in a clear\nlight. In the first place, the state has begun in the reign of Trajan to\ncontrol the municipality, especially in the management of its finances;\nbut the control is rather invited than imposed. At any rate, it has become\nnecessary, owing to malversation or incompetence.(1270) Nothing could be\nmore striking than the contrast between the civic bungling exposed by\nPliny, and the clear, patient wisdom of the distant emperor. And in\nanother point we can see that the municipalities have entered on that\ndisastrous decline which was to end in the ruin of the fifth century.\nWasteful finance is already making its pressure felt on the members of the\nCuria, and membership is beginning to be thought a burden rather than an\nhonour. From the reign of Trajan we begin to hear of the _Curatores_, who\nwere imperial officers, appointed at first to meet a special emergency,\nbut who became permanent magistrates, with immense powers, especially over\nfinance.(1271) The free civic life of the first century is being quietly\ndrawn under the fatal spell of a bureaucratic despotism.\n\nThe cities did much for themselves out of the public revenues.(1272) But\nthere are many signs that private ambition or munificence did even more.\nThe stone records of Pompeii confirm these indications in a remarkable\nway. Pompeii, in spite of the prominence given to it by its tragic fate,\nwas only a third-rate town, with a population probably of not more than\n20,000.(1273) Its remains, indeed, leave the impression that a\nconsiderable class were in easy circumstances; but it may be doubted\nwhether Pompeii could boast of any great capitalists among its citizens.\nIts harbour, at the mouth of the Sarno, was the outlet for the trade of\nNola and Nuceria. There were salt works in a suburb near the sea. The fish\nsauces of Umbricius Scaurus had a great celebrity.(1274) The vine and the\nolive were cultivated on the volcanic offshoot from Vesuvius; but the wine\nof Pompeii was said by the elder Pliny to leave a lingering headache.\nMill-stones were made from the lava of the volcano. The market gardeners\ndrove a flourishing trade, and the cabbage of Pompeii was celebrated. On\nthe high ground towards Vesuvius many wealthy Romans, Cicero, and Drusus,\nthe son of Claudius, built country seats, in that delicious climate where\nthe winters are so short, and the summer heats are tempered by unfailing\nbreezes from the mountains or the western sea. All these things made\nPompeii a thriving and attractive place; yet its trade hardly offered the\nchance of the huge fortunes which could be accumulated in those days at\nPuteoli or Ostia.(1275)\n\nNevertheless, a large number of the public buildings of Pompeii were the\ngift of private citizens. The Holconii were a great family of the place in\nthe reign of Augustus. M. Holconius Rufus had been ordinary duumvir five\ntimes, and twice quinquennial duumvir; he was priest of Augustus, and\nfinally was elected patron of the town.(1276) Such dignities in those days\nimposed a corresponding burden. And an inscription tells that, on the\nrebuilding of the great theatre, probably about 3 B.C., Holconius Rufus\nand Holconius Celer defrayed the expense of the crypt, the tribunals, and\nthe whole space for the spectators. Women did not fall behind men in their\npublic benefactions. On the eastern side of the forum of Pompeii there is\na building and enclosure, with the remains of porticoes, colonnades, and\nfountains, which are supposed to have been a cloth market. In a niche\nstood a marble statue, dedicated by the fullers of Pompeii to Eumachia, a\npriestess of the city. And Eumachia herself has left a record that she and\nher son had erected the building at their own expense.(1277) The\ndedication probably belongs to the reign of Tiberius. The visitor who\nleaves the forum by the arch, at the north-east corner, and turns into the\nbroadest thoroughfare of the town, soon reaches the small temple of\nFortuna Augusta, erected in the reign of Augustus. Both the site and the\nbuilding were the gift of one M. Tullius, who had, like M. Holconius,\nborne all the honours which the city could bestow.(1278) The amphitheatre\nin the south-east corner of the town, the scene of so many gladiatorial\ncombats recorded in the inscriptions, was erected by two men of the\nhighest official rank, C. Quinctius Valgus and M. Porcius, probably the\nsame men who bore at least part of the cost of the smaller theatre of\nPompeii.(1279) The last instance of this generous public spirit which we\nshall mention is of interest in many ways. It is well known that in the\nyear 63 A.D. an earthquake overthrew many buildings, and wrought great\nhavoc in Pompeii. Among other edifices, the temple of Isis was thrown\ndown. The temple, of which we can now study the remains, had been built by\na boy of six years of age, Numerius Popidius Celsinus, who, in\nacknowledgment of his own, or rather of his father\u2019s liberality, was at\nthat unripe age co-opted a member of \u201cthe splendid order.\u201d(1280) This mode\nof rewarding a father by advancing his infant son to premature honours is\nnot unknown in other inscriptions.(1281)\n\nThe literature of the age contains many records of profuse private\nliberality of the same kind. The circle and family of Pliny were, as we\nhave seen in this, as in other respects, models of the best sentiment of\nthe time. Pliny was not a very rich man, according to the standard of an\nage of colossal fortunes; yet his benefactions, both to private friends\nand to the communities in which he was interested, were on the scale of\nthe largest wealth. It has been calculated that he must have altogether\ngiven to his early home and fatherland, as he calls it, a sum of more than\n\u00a380,000; and the gifts were of a thoroughly practical kind\u2014a library, a\nschool endowment, a foundation for the nurture of poor children, a temple\nof Ceres, with spacious colonnades to shelter the traders who came for the\ngreat fair.(1282) A great lady, Ummidia Quadratilla, known to us not\naltogether favourably in Pliny\u2019s letters, built a temple and amphitheatre\nfor Casinum.(1283) From the elder Pliny we learn that the distinguished\ncourt physicians, the two Stertinii, whose professional income is said to\nhave ranged from \u00a32000 to \u00a35000 a year, exhausted their ample fortune in\ntheir benefactions to the city of Naples.(1284) A private citizen bore the\ncost of an aqueduct for Bordeaux, at an expenditure of \u00a3160,000.(1285)\nAnother benefactor, one Crinas, spent perhaps \u00a380,000 on the walls of\nMarseilles.(1286) The grandfather of Dion Chrysostom devoted his entire\nancestral fortune to public objects.(1287) Dion, himself, according to his\nmeans, followed the example of his ancestor. The site alone of a\ncolonnade, with shops and booths, which he presented to Prusa, cost about\n\u00a31800. When Cremona was destroyed by the troops of Vespasian in A.D. 69,\nits temples and forums were restored by the generous zeal of private\ncitizens, after all the horror and exhaustion of that awful\nconflict.(1288)\n\nBut the prince of public benefactors in the Antonine age was the great\nsophist Herodes Atticus, the tutor of M. Aurelius, who died in the same\nyear as his pupil, 180 A.D. He acted up to his theory of the uses of\nwealth on a scale of unexampled munificence.(1289) His family was of high\nrank, and claimed descent from the Aeacidae of Aegina. They had also\napparently inexhaustible resources. His father spent a sum of nearly\n\u00a340,000 in supplementing an imperial grant for the supply of water to the\nTroad. The munificence of the son was extended to cities in Italy, as well\nas to Corinth, Thessaly, Euboea, Boeotia, Elis, and pre-eminently to\nAthens. He gave an aqueduct to Canusium and Olympia, a racecourse to\nDelphi, a roofed theatre to Corinth.(1290) He provided sulphur baths at\nThermopylae for the visitors from Thessaly and the shores of the Maliac\ngulf. He aided in the restoration of Oricum in Epirus, and liberally\nrecruited the resources of many another decaying town in Greece. He was\ncertainly benevolent, but he had also a passion for splendid fame, and\ncherished an ambition to realise the dream of Nero, by cutting a canal\nacross the Corinthian Isthmus.(1291) But Attica, where he was born, and\nwhere he had a princely house on the Ilissus, was the supreme object of\nhis bounty. In his will he left each Athenian citizen an annual gift of a\nmina. He would offer to the Virgin Goddess a sacrifice of a hundred oxen\non a single day; and, when the great festivals came round, he used to\nfeast the people by their tribes, as well as the resident strangers, on\ncouches in the Ceramicus. He restored the ancient shrines and stadia with\ncostly marbles. And, in memory of Rhegilla, his wife, he built at the foot\nof the acropolis a theatre for 6000 spectators, roofed in with cedar wood,\nwhich, to the eye of Pausanias, surpassed all similar structures in its\nsplendour.(1292)\n\nThe liberality of Herodes Atticus, however astonishing it may seem, was\nonly exceptional in its scale. The same spirit prevailed among the leading\ncitizens or the great _patroni_ of hundreds of communities, many of them\nonly known to us from a brief inscription or two; and we have great reason\nto be grateful on this score to the imperial legislation of later days,\nwhich did its best to preserve these stone records for the eyes of\nposterity.(1293) But in forming an estimate of the splendid public spirit\nevoked by municipal life, it is well to remind ourselves that much has\nnecessarily been lost in the wreck of time, and also that what we have\nleft represents the civic life of a comparatively brief period. Yet the\nremains are so numerous that it is almost impossible to give any adequate\nidea of their profusion to those who are unacquainted with the\ninscriptions. The objects of this liberality are as various as the needs\nof the community\u2014temples, theatres, bridges, markets, a portico or a\ncolonnade, the relaying of a road or pavement from the forum to the port,\nthe repair of an aqueduct, above all the erection of new baths or the\nrestoration of old ones, with perhaps a permanent foundation to provide\nfor the free enjoyment of this greatest luxury of the south. The boon was\nextended to all citizens of both sexes, and in some cases, even to\nstrangers and to slaves.(1294) There is an almost monotonous sameness in\nthe stiff, conventional record of this vast mass of lavish generosity. It\nall seems a spontaneous growth of the social system. One monument is\nerected by the senate and people of Tibur to a man who had borne all its\nhonours, and had left the town his sole heir.(1295) On another, an\nAugustal of Cales, who had received the insignia of the duumvirate, tells\nposterity that he had laid down a broad road through the town.(1296)\nAnother benefactor bore the chief cost of a new meat market at Aesernia,\nthe authorities of the town supplying the pillars and the tiles.(1297) A\npriestess of Calama in Numidia expended a sum of \u00a33400 on a new\ntheatre.(1298) Perhaps the commonest object of private liberality was the\nerection or maintenance of public baths. An old officer of the fourth\nlegion provided free bathing at Suessa Senonum for every one, even down to\nthe slave girls.(1299) At Bononia, a sum of \u00a34350 was bequeathed for the\nsame liberal purpose.(1300) A magnate of Misenum bequeathed 400 loads of\nhard wood annually for the furnaces of the baths, but with the stipulation\nthat his son should be made patron of the town, and that his successors\nshould receive all the magistracies.(1301)\n\nThese are only a few specimens taken at random from the countless records\nof similar liberality to the parent city. The example of the emperors must\nhave stimulated the creation of splendid public works in the provinces. It\nhas been remarked by M. Boissier that the imperial government at all times\ndisplayed the politic or instinctive love of monarchy for splendour and\nmagnificence.(1302) The Roman Code, down to the end of the Western Empire,\ngives evidence of a jealous care for the preservation of the monuments and\nhistoric buildings of the past, and denounces with very unconventional\nenergy the \u201cfoul and shameful\u201d traffic in the relics of ancient glory\nwhich prevailed in the last age of the Empire.(1303) After great fires and\ndesolating wars, the first thought of the most frugal or the most lavish\nprince was to restore in greater grandeur what had been destroyed. After\nthe great conflagration of A.D. 64, which laid in ashes ten out of the\nfourteen regions of Rome, Nero immediately set to work to rebuild the city\nin a more orderly fashion, with broader streets and open spaces.(1304)\nVespasian, on his accession, found the treasury loaded with a debt of\n\u00a3320,000,000. Yet the frugal emperor did not hesitate to begin at once the\nrestoration of the Capitol, and all the other ruins left by the great\nstruggle of A.D. 69 from which his dynasty arose.(1305) He even undertook\nsome new works on a great scale, the temple of Peace and the amphitheatre,\non the plans projected by Augustus. Titus completed the Colosseum, and\nerected the famous baths.(1306) Domitian once more restored the Capitol,\nand added many new buildings, temples to his \u201cdivine\u201d father and brother,\nwith many shrines of his special patroness Minerva; a stone stadium for\n30,000 people, and an Odeum for an audience of 10,000.(1307) Trajan was\nlauded by Pliny for his frugal administration of the treasury, combined\nwith magnificence in his public works.(1308) Nor was the encomium\nundeserved. He made docks and erected warehouses at Ostia; he ran a new\nroad through the Pomptine marshes; he lavished money on aqueducts and\nbaths.(1309) His most imposing construction was a new forum between the\nCapitoline and the Quirinal, with stately memorials of the achievements of\nhis reign. But the prince of imperial builders and engineers was Hadrian.\nWherever he went he took with him in his journeys a troop of architects to\nadd something to the splendour or convenience of the cities through which\nhe passed. \u201cIn almost every city,\u201d says his biographer, \u201che erected some\nbuilding.\u201d(1310) But the capital was not neglected by Hadrian. He restored\nhistoric structures such as the Pantheon and the temple of Neptune, the\nforum of Augustus, and Agrippa\u2019s baths, with no ostentatious intrusion of\nhis own name.(1311) In his own name he built the temples of Venus and\nRoma, the bridge across the Tiber, and that stately mausoleum, which, as\nthe castle of S. Angelo, links the memory of the pagan Empire with the\nmediaeval Papacy and the modern world. The example of the imperial masters\nof the world undoubtedly reinforced the various impulses which inspired\nthe dedication of so much wealth to the public service or enjoyment\nthrough all the cities of the Empire.\n\nBut the wealthy and public-spirited citizen was also expected to cater for\nthe immediate pleasure or amusement of his neighbours in games and feasts.\nWe have seen that Pliny, during his administration of Bithynia, seems to\nhave regarded the public feasts given to a whole commune on occasions of\nprivate rejoicing, as dangerous to the general tranquillity. Yet the usage\nmeets us everywhere in the inscriptions, and even in the literary history\nof the time. This spacious hospitality was long demanded from the rich and\npowerful, from the general at his triumph, from the great noble on his\nbirthday or his daughter\u2019s marriage, from the rich burgher at the\ndedication of a temple or a forum which he had given to the city, from the\nman who had been chosen patron of a town in expectation of such largesses,\nnot to speak of the many private patrons whose morning receptions were\nthronged by a hungry crowd, eager for an invitation to dinner, or its\nequivalent in the sportula.(1312) Julius Caesar on his triumph in 46 B.C.\nhad feasted the people at 22,000 tables.(1313) Great houses, like the\nsumptuous seat of Caninius Rufus at Como, had enormous banquet halls for\nsuch popular repasts.(1314) The Trimalchio of Petronius desires himself to\nbe sculptured on his tomb in the character of such a lavish host.(1315)\nThere was in that age no more popular and effective way of testifying\ngratitude for the honours bestowed by the popular voice, or of winning\nthem, than by a great feast to the whole commune, generally accompanied by\na distribution of money, according to social or official grade. It was\nalso the most popular means of prolonging one\u2019s memory to bequeath a\nfoundation for the perpetual maintenance of such repasts in honour of the\ndead.(1316) One P. Lucilius of Ostia had held all the great offices of his\ntown, and had rewarded his admirers with a munificence apparently more\nthan equivalent to the official honours they had bestowed. He had paved a\nlong road from the forum to the arch, restored a temple of Vulcan, of\nwhich he was the curator, and the temples of Venus, Spes, and Fortuna; he\nhad provided standard weights for the meat market, and a tribunal of\nmarble for the forum. But probably his most popular benefaction was a\ngreat banquet to the citizens, where 217 couches were arrayed for\nthem.(1317) The same munificent person had twice entertained the whole of\nthe citizens at luncheon. Elsewhere a veteran, with a long and varied\nservice, had settled at Auximum where he had been elected patron of the\ncommunity. His old comrades, the centurions of the Second Legion (Traj.\nFortis) erected a monument to his virtues, and, at the dedication, he gave\na banquet to the townsfolk.(1318) One other example, out of the many which\ncrowd the inscriptions, may serve to complete the picture of civic\nhospitality. Lucius Cornelius of Surrentum received on his death the\nhonour of a public funeral by a vote of the Curia. The inscription on his\nstatue records that, on assuming the garb of manhood, he had provided a\nmeal of pastry and mead for the populace; when he became aedile, he\nexhibited a contest of gladiators; and, twice reaching the honours of the\nduumvirate, he repaid the compliment by splendid games and a stately\nbanquet.(1319)\n\nAt these entertainments a gift of money, always graduated according to the\nsocial rank of the guests, decurio, augustal, or plebeian, was generally\nadded to the fare.(1320) Sometimes the distribution took the form of a\nlottery. A high official of Beneventum, who had probably inherited a\nfortune from his father, a leading physician of the capital, once\nscattered tickets among the crowd, which gave the finder the right to a\npresent of gold, silver, dress, or other smaller prizes.(1321) Women\nappeared sometimes both as hostesses and guests on these occasions. Caesia\nSabina of Veii, on the day on which her husband was entertaining all the\ncitizens, invited the female relatives of the decurions to dinner, with\nthe additional luxury of a gratuitous bath.(1322) It is curious to observe\nthat at the festivities in which women are entertained, the sharp\ndemarcation of ranks is maintained as strictly as it is among their male\nrelations. Thus, in a distribution at Volceii, the decurions, augustales,\nand vicani, receive respectively thirty, twenty, and twelve sesterces\napiece; while the proportion observed among the ladies of the three social\ngrades is sixteen, eight, and four. Nor were children, even those of the\nslave class, forgotten on these festive occasions. One kindly magnate of\nFerentinum left a fund of about \u00a3750 to give an annual feast of pastry and\nmead upon his birthday for all the inhabitants with their wives, and at\nthe same time, 300 pecks of nuts were provided for the children, bond and\nfree.(1323)\n\nThese provincial societies, as we have already seen, were organised on\naristocratic or plutocratic principles. The distinction between\n_honestior_ and _humilior_, which becomes so cruel in the Theodosian Code,\nwas, even in the Antonine age, more sharply drawn and more enduring than\nis agreeable to our modern notions of social justice. The rich have a\nmonopoly of all official power and social precedence; they have even the\nlargest share in gifts and paltry distributions of money which wealth\nmight be expected to resign and to despise. Their sons have secured to\nthem by social convention, or by popular gratitude and expectancy, a\nposition equal to that of their ancestors. The dim plebeian crowd, save\nfor the right of an annual vote at the elections, which was in a few\ngenerations to be withdrawn, seem to be of little more consequence than\nthe slaves; they were of far less consequence than those freedmen who had\nthe luck or the dexterity to build up a rapid fortune, and force their way\ninto the chasm between the privileged and the disinherited. Yet this would\nhardly be a complete and penetrating view of the inner working and the\nspirit of that municipal society. The apparent rigidity and harshness of\nthe lines of demarcation were often relieved by a social sentiment which,\non the one hand, made heavy demands on rank and wealth, and on the other,\ndrew all classes together by the strong bond of fellowship in a common\nsocial life. There has probably seldom been a time when wealth was more\ngenerally regarded as a trust, a possession in which the community at\nlarge has a right to share. There never was an age in which the wealthy\nmore frankly, and even recklessly, recognised this imperious claim. It\nwould indeed be difficult to resolve into its elements the complicated\nmass of motives which impelled the rich burgher to undertake such\nenormous, and often ruinous, expenditure for the common good or pleasure.\nThere was of course much of mere selfish ambition and love of popularity.\nThe passion for prominence was probably never stronger. Direct or even\nveiled corruption of the electors was, indeed, strictly prohibited by\nlaw.(1324) But it was a recognised principle of public life that the city\nshould honour its benefactors, and that those whom she had raised to her\nhighest distinctions should manifest their gratitude by some contribution\nto the comfort or the enjoyments of the people. But, when we have admitted\nall vulgar motives of munificence, a man would show himself a very\nunobservant, or else a very cynical student of the time, if he failed to\nrecognise that, among these countless benefactors, there were many\nanimated, not only by a sense of duty, but by a real ardour of public\nspirit, men who wished to live in the love and memory of their fellows,\nand who had a rare perception of the duties of wealth. Philostratus has\nleft us in his own words a record of the principles which inspired Herodes\nAtticus in his almost fabulous donations to many cities in Asia, Greece,\nand Italy. Herodes used to say that the true use of money was to succour\nthe needs of others; riches which were guarded with a niggard hand were\nonly a \u201cdead wealth\u201d; the coffers in which they were stowed away were\nmerely a prison; and the worship of money resembled the sacrifice which\nthe fabled Aloidae offered to a god after putting him in chains.(1325) The\nmain characteristics of human nature are singularly fixed from age to age,\nalthough the objects of its love and devotion may endlessly vary. The\nhigher unselfish impulses must assert themselves in any society which is\nnot plunging into the abyss. The choicer spirits will be always ready to\nlavish effort or material wealth on objects which are sacred to their own\nage, although they may seen chimerical or unworthy to the next. And we may\nwell believe that the man who in the second century built a bath or a\ntheatre for fellow townsmen, might possibly, had he lived in the fifth,\nhave dedicated a church to a patron saint, or bequeathed his lands to a\nmonastery.\n\nThe Antonine age was on one side perhaps rather coarse in its ideals,\npassionately fond of splendour and brilliant display, proud of civic\ndignity, and keenly alive to the ease and comfort and brightness which\ncommon effort or individual generosity might add to the enjoyment of life.\nIt was also an intensely sociable age. Men looked for their happiness to\ntheir city rather than to the family or the state. If their city could not\nplay a great part as an independent commonwealth, it might, by the\nself-sacrifice of its sons, assert its dignity among its rivals. It could\nmake itself a society which men would proudly or affectionately claim as\ntheir \u201cpatria\u201d and their parent, and on which they would vie with one\nanother in lavishing their time and their gold. And the buildings and\nbanquets and bright festivals, on which so much was lavished, were enjoyed\nby all citizens alike, the lowest and the highest, although high and low\nhad sometimes by prescriptive usage an unequal share in the largesses. The\nfree enjoyment of sumptuous baths, of good water from the Atlas, the\nApennines, or the Alban Hills, the right to sit at ease with one\u2019s fellows\nwhen the _Pseudolus_ or the _Adelphi_ was put upon the boards, the\npleasure of strolling in the shady colonnades of the forum or the market,\nsurrounded by brilliant marbles and frescoes, with fountains shedding\ntheir coolness around; the good fellowship which, for the time, levelled\nall ranks, in many a simple communal feast, with a coin or two distributed\nat the end to recall or heighten the pleasure\u2014all these things tended to\nmake the city a true home, to some extent almost a great family circle.\nThere was much selfishness and grossness, no doubt, in all this civic\nlife. Which later age can cast the first stone? Yet a study of the\ninscriptions of the Antonine age leaves the impression that, amid all the\nsharply drawn distinctions of rank, with all the petty ambition and\nself-assertion, or the fawning and expectant servility, there was also a\ngenuine patriotic benevolence on the one hand, and a grateful recognition\nof it on the other. The citizens record on many a tablet their gratitude\nto patron or duumvir or augustal, or to some simple old centurion,\nreturned from far frontier camps, who had paved their promenade, or\nrestored their baths, or given them a shrine of Neptune or Silvanus. They\nalso preserved the memory of many a kindly benefactor who left, as he\nfondly thought for ever, the funds for an annual feast, with all the\ngraduated shares scrupulously prescribed, to save an obscure tomb from the\ngeneral oblivion. Thus, although that ancient city life had its sordid\nside, which is laid bare with such pitiless Rabelaisian realism by\nPetronius, it had its nobler aspect also. Notwithstanding the aristocratic\ntone of municipal society in the age of the Antonines, it is possible that\nthe separation of classes in our great centres of population is morally\nmore sharp and decided than it was in the days when the gulf between\nsocial ranks was in theory impassable.\n\nThere is however another side to this picture of fraternal civic life. If\nsome of its pleasures were innocent and even softening and elevating,\nthere were others which pandered to the most brutal and cruel passions.\nThe love of amusement grew upon the Roman character as civilisation\ndeveloped in organisation and splendour, and unfortunately the favourite\namusements were often obscene and cruel. The calendar of the time is\nsufficiently ominous. The number of days which were annually given up to\ngames and spectacles at Rome rose from 66 in the reign of Augustus, to 135\nin the reign of M. Aurelius, and to 175, or more, in the fourth century.\nIn this reckoning no account is taken of extraordinary festivals on\nspecial occasions.(1326) The Flavian amphitheatre was inaugurated by Titus\nwith lavish exhibitions extending over 100 days.(1327) The Dacian triumphs\nof Trajan were celebrated by similar rejoicings for 123 days, and 10,000\ngladiators were sent down into the arena.(1328) The rage of all classes of\nthe Roman populace for these sights of suffering and shame continued\nunabated to the very end of the Western Empire. The lubricity of pantomime\nand the slaughter of the arena were never more fiercely and keenly enjoyed\nthan when the Germans were thundering at the gates of Tr\u00e8ves and\nCarthage.(1329)\n\nIt is difficult for us now to understand this lust of cruelty among a\npeople otherwise highly civilised, a passion which was felt not merely by\nthe base rabble, but even by the cultivated and humane.(1330) There was\nundoubtedly at all times a coarse insensibility to suffering in the Roman\ncharacter. The institution of slavery, which involves the denial of\nordinary human rights to masses of fellow-creatures, had its usual effect\nin rendering men contemptuously callous to the fate of all who did not\nbelong to the privileged class. Even a man of high moral tone like\nTacitus, while he condemns Drusus for gloating over his gladiatorial\nshows, has only a word of scorn for the victims of the butchery.(1331) And\nthe appetite grew with what it fed on. From father to son, for nearly\nseven centuries, the Roman character became more and more indurated under\nthe influence of licensed cruelty. The spectacle was also surrounded by\nthe emperors, even the greatest and best, for politic reasons, with ever\ngrowing splendour. The Flavian amphitheatre, which remains as a monument\nof the glory of the Empire and of its shame, must have been a powerful\ncorruptor. There, tier above tier, was gathered the concentrated\nexcitability and contagious enthusiasm of 87,000 spectators. The imperial\ncircle and the emperor himself, members of high senatorial houses, the\ngreat officers of state, the priests, the vestal virgins, gave an\nimpressive national dignity to the inhuman spectacle. And now and then an\nEastern prince or ambassador, or the chief of some half-savage tribe in\nGermany or Numidia,(1332) amused the eyes of the rabble who swarmed on the\nupper benches. Every device of luxurious art was employed to heighten the\nbaser attractions of the scene. The magnificent pile was brightened with\ngems of artistic skill.(1333) The arena was tesselated with rich colouring\nfrom the sunlight which streamed through the awnings. The waters of\nperfumed fountains shot high into the air, spreading their fragrant\ncoolness; and music filled the pauses in the ghastly conflict. From scenes\nlike these was probably drawn the picture in the Apocalypse: _Mulier\ncircumdata purpura et coccino\u2014mater fornicationum\u2014ebria de sanguine\nsanctorum._\n\nIn the first and second centuries the passion for cruel excitement was as\nstrong in the provincial towns as it was even at Rome. This may have been\npartly due to the monotony of provincial life. It was also stimulated by\nthe ease with which public sentiment extorted the means for these\ngratifications from the richer citizens. The opinion of the powerful and\nenlightened class, with rare exceptions, made no effort to purify and\nhumanise the grossness of the masses. Seneca and Demonax indeed display a\nmodern humanity in their view of the degrading influence of these\ndisplays.(1334) A humane magistrate of Vienne, one Trebonius Rufinus, in\nthe reign of Trajan, having autocratically abolished them in his city, was\ncalled upon to defend his conduct before the emperor, and Junius Mauricus\nhad the courage to express before the council a wish that they could be\nabolished also at Rome.(1335) Augustus had, by an imperial edict,\nrestrained the cruel exhibitions of the father of Nero.(1336) Vespasian,\naccording to Dion Cassius,(1337) had little pleasure in the shows of the\narena. But the emperors generally, and not least Vespasian\u2019s sons,\nencouraged and pandered to the lust for blood.(1338) The imperial\ngladiators were organised elaborately in four great schools by\nDomitian,(1339) with a regular administration, presided over by officers\nof high rank. The gentle Pliny, who had personally no liking for such\nspectacles, applauded his friend Maximus for giving a gladiatorial show to\nthe people of Verona, to do honour to his dead wife, in the true spirit of\nthe old Bruti and Lepidi of the age of the Punic Wars.(1340) He found in\nthe shows of Trajan a splendid incentive of contempt for death.\n\nIt is little wonder that, with such examples and such approval, the masses\ngloated unrestrained over these inhuman sports. The rag-dealer at\nTrimalchio\u2019s dinner is certainly drawn to the life.(1341) They are going\nto have a three days\u2019 carnival of blood. There is to be no escape; the\nbutcher is to do his work thoroughly in full view of the crowded tiers of\nthe amphitheatre. It was in Etruria, and in Campania, where Trimalchio had\nhis home, that the gladiatorial combats took their rise. Campanian hosts\nused to entertain their guests at dinner with them in the days before the\nsecond Punic War.(1342) And it was in Campanian towns that in the first\ncentury was displayed most glaringly the not unusual combination of\ncruelty and voluptuousness. The remains of Pompeii furnish us with the\nmost vivid and authentic materials for a study of the sporting tastes of a\nprovincial town. It is significant that the amphitheatre of Pompeii, which\nwas capable of holding 20,000 people, was built fifty years before the\nfirst stone amphitheatre erected by Statilius Taurus at Rome.(1343) It is\nalso remarkable that, although Pompeii is mentioned only twice by Tacitus,\none of the references is to a bloody riot arising out of the games of the\namphitheatre.(1344) In the year 59 A.D. a Roman senator in disgrace, named\nLivineius Regulus, gave a great gladiatorial show at Pompeii, which\nattracted many spectators from the neighbouring town of Nuceria. The\nscenes of the arena were soon reproduced in a fierce street fight between\nthe people of the two towns, in which many Nucerians were left dead or\nwounded. The catastrophe was brought before the emperor, and referred by\nhim to the Senate, with the result that Pompeii was sternly deprived of\nits favourite amusement for a period of ten years. But when the interdict\nwas removed, the Pompeians had the enjoyment of their accustomed pleasure\nfor ten years more, till it was finally interrupted by the ashes of\nVesuvius.\n\nA building at Pompeii, which was originally a colonnade connected with the\ntheatre,(1345) had been converted into barracks for a school of gladiators\nin the time of the early Empire.(1346) Behind the colonnade of more than\nseventy Doric columns had been built a long row of small cells, with no\nopening except on the central enclosure. There was a mess room, and the\n_exedra_ on the southern side served as a retiring room for the trainers\nand the men in the intervals of exercise. The open area was used for\npractice. These buildings have yielded many specimens of gladiators\u2019 arms,\nhelmets, and greaves richly embossed in relief, scores of mail-coats,\nshields, and horse-trappings. In one room there were found the stocks, and\nfour skeletons with irons on their legs. In another, eighteen persons had\ntaken refuge in the last catastrophe, and, among them, a woman wearing\ncostly jewels. The walls and columns were covered with inscriptions and\nrude sketches of gladiatorial life. Indeed the graffiti relating to it are\nperhaps the most interesting in Pompeii. On some of the tombs outside the\ncity we can still read the notices of coming games, painted on the walls\nby a professional advertiser, one Aemilius Celer, \u201cby the light of the\nmoon.\u201d(1347) They announce that a duumvir or aedile or flamen will exhibit\ntwenty or thirty pairs of combatants on the calends of May or the ides of\nApril. There will also be a hunt, athletic games, a distribution of gifts,\nand awnings will be provided. Programmes were for sale in advance, with a\nlist of the events. The contents of one can still be read scratched on a\nwall, with marginal notes of the results of the competition. In one\nconflict, Pugnax, in the Thracian arms, had beaten Murranus the Myrmillo,\nfighting in the arms of Gaul, with the fish upon his helmet; and the fate\nof Murranus is chronicled in one tragic letter p. (_periit_). Two others\nfought in chariots in old British fashion. And the Publius Ostorius who\nwon was, as his name may suggest, a freedman, now fighting as a voluntary\ncombatant, according to the inscription, in his fifty-first\nconflict.(1348) The tomb of Umbricius Scaurus, on the highway outside the\nHerculaneum gate, was adorned in stucco relief with animated scenes from\nthe arena of hunting and battle. Hunters with sword and cloak, like a\nmodern tor\u00e9ador, are engaging lions or tigers. Two gladiators are charging\none another on horseback. Here, a vanquished combatant, with upturned\nhand, is imploring the pity of the spectators, while another is sinking in\nthe agony of death upon the sand. The name, the school, and the fighting\nhistory of each combatant are painted beside the figure.(1349) The\nuniversal enthusiasm for the shows is expressed in many a rude sketch\nwhich has been traced by boyish hands upon the walls. The record of the\nheroes of the arena was evidently then as familiar as that of a champion\nfootballer or cricketer is now to our own sporting youth. In the peristyle\nof a house in Nola Street, the names of some thirty gladiators can be\nread, with the character of their arms and the number of their conflicts.\nPortraits of gladiators are figured on lamps and rings and vases of the\nperiod. The charm of their manly strength, according to Juvenal, was fatal\nto the peace of many a Roman matron of the great world. And the humbler\ngirls of Pompeii have left the memorial of their weakness in more than one\nfrank outburst of rather unmaidenly admiration.(1350)\n\nIt is a grave deduction from the admiring judgment of the glory of the\nAntonine age, that its most splendid remains are the stately buildings\nwithin whose enclosure, for centuries, the populace were regaled with the\nsufferings and the blood of the noblest creatures of the wild animal world\nand of gallant men. The deserts and forests of Africa and the remotest\nEast contributed their elephants and panthers and lions to these scenes.\nAnd every province of the Empire sent its contingent of recruits for the\narena, Gaul, Germany, and Thrace, Britain and Dacia, the villages of the\nAtlas, and the deserts of the Soudan.(1351) Just in proportion to the\ndepth of the impress made by Roman civilisation, was the amphitheatre more\nor less popular in the provinces. In Italy itself the passion was\nnaturally strongest. Quiet little places, buried in the Apennines, or in\nthe mountains of Samnium, had their regular spectacles, and record their\ngratitude for the pleasure to some magistrate or patron.(1352) The little\ntown of Fidenae, in the reign of Tiberius, gained for a moment a sinister\nfame by the collapse of its amphitheatre, involving the death or\nmutilation of 50,000 spectators.(1353) An augustal of Praeneste endowed\nhis town with a school of gladiators, and received a statue for this\ncontribution to the pleasures of the populace.(1354) A. Clodius Flaccus of\nPompeii, in his first duumvirate, on the Apollinaria, gave an exhibition\nin the forum of bull-fighting, pugilism, and pantomime. He signalised his\nsecond tenure of the office by a show of thirty-five pairs of gladiators,\nwith a hunting scene of bulls, boars, and bears.(1355) At Minturnae, a\nmonument reminds \u201cthe excellent citizens\u201d that, in a show lasting for four\ndays, eleven of the foremost of Campanian gladiators had died before their\neyes, along with ten ferocious bears.(1356) At Compsa in Samnium, a place\nhardly ever heard of, the common people erected a statue to a priest of\nMagna Mater, who had given them a splendid show, and he in turn rewarded\ntheir gratitude by a feast to both sexes, which lasted over two\ndays.(1357) Similar records of misplaced munificence might be produced\nfrom Bovianum and Beneventum, from Tibur and Perusia, and many another\nobscure Italian town. But the brutal insensibility of the age is perhaps\nnowhere so glaringly paraded as in the days following the short-lived\nvictory of the Vitellian arms at Bedriacum. There, on that ghastly plain,\non which his rival had been crushed and had closed a tainted life by a not\ninglorious death, Vitellius gloated over the wreck of the great struggle.\nThe trees were cut down, the crops trampled into mire; the soil was soaked\nand festering with blood, while mangled forms of men and horses still lay\nrotting till the vultures should complete their obsequies. Within forty\ndays of the battle, the emperor attended great gladiatorial combats given\nby his generals at Cremona and Bononia, as if to revive the memory of the\ncarnage by a cruel mimicry.(1358) The grim literary avenger of that\ncarnival of blood has pictured the imperial monster\u2019s end, within a short\nspace, in colours that will never fade, deserted by his meanest servants,\nshuddering at the ghastly terrors of the vast, silent solitudes of the\npalace, dragged forth from his hiding, and flung with insults and\nexecrations down the Gemonian Stairs. The dying gladiator of Cremona was\nmore than avenged.(1359)\n\nThe western provinces bordering on the Mediterranean, Gaul, Spain, and\nAfrica, drank deepest of the spirit which created the great amphitheatres\nof Arles, Tr\u00e8ves, and Carthage, Placentia and Verona, of Puteoli, Pompeii,\nand Capua. But the East caught the infection, and gladiatorial combats\nwere held at Antioch in Pisidia, at Nysa in Caria, and at Laodicea;\nAlexandria had its amphitheatre from the days of Augustus, and a school of\ngladiators, presided over by a high imperial officer.(1360) The Teutonic\nregions of the north and Greece were almost the only provinces in which\nthe bloody games were not popular. The one Greek town where the taste for\nthem was fully developed was the mongrel city of Corinth, which was a\nRoman colony. In the novel of Apuleius we meet a high Corinthian\nmagistrate travelling through Thessaly to collect the most famous\ngladiators for his shows.(1361) Yet even in Greece, even at Athens, which\nhad been the home of kindly pity from the days of Theseus, the cruel\npassion was spreading in the days of the Antonines. Plutarch urges public\nmen to banish or to restrain these exhibitions in their cities.(1362) When\nthe Athenians, from an ambition to rival the splendour of Corinth, were\nmeditating the establishment of a gladiatorial show, the gentle Demonax\nbade them first to overturn their altar of Pity.(1363) The apostles of\nHellenism, Dion, Plutarch, and Lucian, were unanimous in condemning an\ninstitution which sacrificed the bravest men to the brutal passions of the\nmob.\n\nThe games of the arena were sometimes held at the expense of the\nmunicipality on great festivals, with a public officer, bearing the title\nof _curator_,(1364) to direct them. But, perhaps more frequently, they\nwere given by great magistrates or priests at their own expense; or some\nrich _parvenu_, like the cobbler of Bologna or the fuller of Modena, who\nhave been ridiculed by Martial, would try by such a display to force an\nentrance into the guarded enclosure of Roman rank.(1365) There were also\nfrequent bequests to create a permanent agonistic foundation. The most\nstriking example of such a legacy is to be found on an inscription in\nhonour of a munificent duumvir of Pisaurum. He left a capital sum of more\nthan \u00a310,000 to the community. The interest on two-fifths of this bequest,\nperhaps amounting to \u00a3500, was to be spent in giving a general feast on\nthe birthday of the founder\u2019s son. The accumulated interest of the\nremaining three-fifths, amounting, perhaps, to \u00a34000, was to be devoted to\na quinquennial exhibition of gladiators.(1366) An aedile in Petronius is\ngoing to spend between \u00a33000 and \u00a34000 on a three days\u2019 show.(1367) The\ncost of these exhibitions, however, must have widely varied. We hear of\none in the second century B.C. which cost over \u00a37000.(1368) The number of\npairs engaged appears from the inscriptions to have ranged from five to\nthirty. The shows lasted from one to as many as eight days.(1369) And the\nquality of the combatants was also very various. Tiberius once recalled\nsome finished veterans from their retirement at a fee of about \u00a3800\neach.(1370) On the other hand, a grumbler at Trimalchio\u2019s dinner sneers at\na stingy aedile, whose gladiators were \u201ctwo-penny men,\u201d whom you might\nknock over with a breath.(1371) Besides the great imperial schools at\nPraeneste, Capua, or Alexandria, and the \u201cfamilies\u201d maintained at all\ntimes by some of the great nobles, there were vagrant troops, kept up by\nspeculative trainers for hire, such as that gang into which Vitellius sold\nhis troublesome minion Asiaticus.(1372)\n\nThe profession of gladiator was long regarded as a tainted one, on which\nsocial sentiment and law alike placed their ban. It was a calling which\nincluded the vilest or the most unfortunate of mankind. Slaves, captives\nin war, or criminals condemned for serious offences, recruited its\nranks.(1373) The death in the arena was thus often, really, a deferred\npunishment for crime. But even from the later days of the Republic, men of\nfree birth were sometimes attracted by the false glory or the solid\nrewards of the profession. Freedmen sometimes fought at the call of their\npatrons.(1374) And, when Septimius Severus began to recruit the Pretorian\nguard from the provinces, the youth of Italy, who had long enjoyed the\nmonopoly of that pampered corps, satisfied their combative or predatory\ninstincts by joining the ranks either of the gladiators or of the\nbrigands.(1375) The gladiator had, indeed, to submit to fearful perils and\na cruel discipline. His oath bound him to endure unflinchingly scourging,\nburning, or death.(1376) His barracks were a closely guarded prison, and,\nalthough his fare was necessarily good, his training was entirely directed\nto the production of a fine fighting animal, who would give good sport in\nthe arena. Yet the profession must have had some powerful attractions.\nSome of the emperors,(1377) Titus and Hadrian, themselves took a pleasure\nin the gladiatorial exercises. Commodus, as if to confirm the scandal\nabout his parentage, actually descended into the arena,(1378) and imperial\nexample was followed by men of high rank, and even, according to the\nsatirist, by matronly viragoes.(1379) The splendour of the arms, the\nostentatious pomp of the scene of combat, the applause of thousands of\nspectators on the crowded benches, the fascination of danger, all this\ninvested the cruel craft with a false glory.(1380) The mob of all ages are\nready to make a hero of the man who can perform rare feats of physical\nstrength or agility. And the skilful gladiator evidently became a hero\nunder the early Empire, like his colleague of the red or green. His\nprofessional record was of public interest; the number of his combats and\nhis victories was inscribed upon his tomb.(1381) His name and his features\nwere scratched by boys on the street walls. He attracted the unconcealed,\nand not always discreet, admiration of women,(1382) and his praise was\nsung in classic verse, as his pathetic dignity in death has been\nimmortalised in marble. The memories of a nobler life of freedom sometimes\ndrove the slave of the arena to suicide or mutiny.(1383) But he was\noftener proud of his skill and courage, and eager to display them. When\nshows were rare in the reign of Tiberius, a Myrmillo was heard to lament\nthat the years of his glorious prime were running to waste.(1384)\nEpictetus says that the imperial gladiators were often heard praying for\nthe hour of conflict.(1385)\n\nGreat imperial schools were organised on the strictest military\nprinciples, and were under the command of a procurator who had often held\nhigh office in the provinces or the army.(1386) Each school had attached\nto it a staff of masseurs, surgeon-dressers, and physicians to attend to\nthe general health of the members. There were various grades according to\nskill or length of service, and a man might rise in the end to be trainer\nof a troop. Gladiators, like all other callings in the second century, had\ntheir colleges. We have the roll of one of these, in the year 177 A.D., a\ncollege of Silvanus.(1387) The members are divided into three decuries,\nevidently according to professional rank, and their names and arms are\nalso given. Their comrades often erected monuments to them with a list of\ntheir achievements. Thus a dear companion-in-arms commemorates a young\nSecutor at Panormus, who died in his thirtieth year, who had fought in\nthirty-four combats, and in twenty-one came off victorious.(1388)\n\nOur authorities do not often permit us to follow the gladiator into\nretirement. The stern discipline of the _Ludus_ no doubt made better men\neven of those condemned to it for grievous crimes. The inscriptions\ncontain a few brief records of their family life, which seems to have been\nas natural and affectionate as that of any other class; wives and\ndaughters lamenting good husbands and fathers in the usual phrases, and\nfathers in turn mourning innocent young lives, cut short by the cruelty of\nthe gods.(1389) Sometimes the veteran gladiator might be tempted to return\nto the old scenes for a high fee, or he might become a trainer in one of\nthe schools.(1390) His son might rise even to knightly rank;(1391) but the\ncareer of ambition was closed to himself by the taint of a profession\nwhich the people found indispensable to their pleasures, and which they\nloaded with contempt.\n\nThe inscriptions pay all honour to the voluntary, single-minded generosity\nwith which men bore costly charges, and gave time and effort to the\nbusiness of the city. But there was a tendency to treat public\nbenefactions as the acknowledgment of a debt, a return for civic honours.\nWe can sometimes even see that the gift was extorted by the urgency of the\npeople, in some cases even by menaces and force.(1392) The cities took\nadvantage of the general passion for place and social precedence, and,\noften from sordid motives, crowded their curial lists with _patroni_ and\npersons decorated with other honorary distinctions. On the famous roll of\nthe council of Canusium, out of a total of 164 members, there are 39\n_patroni_ of senatorial or knightly rank, and 25 _praetextati_, mere boys,\nwho were almost certainly of the same aristocratic class, and were\nprobably destined to be future patrons of the town.(1393) In the desire to\nsecure the support of wealth and social prestige, the municipal law as to\nthe age for magisterial office was frequently disregarded, and even mere\ninfants were sometimes raised to the highest civic honours.(1394) The\nposition of patron seems to have been greatly prized, as it was heavily\npaid for. A great man with a liberal soul might be patron of several\ntowns,(1395) and sometimes women of rank had the honour conferred on\nthem.(1396) The _ornamenta_ or external badges of official rank were\nfrequently bestowed on people who were not eligible by law for the\nmagistracy. A resident alien (_incola_), or an augustal, might be co-opted\ninto the \u201csplendid order\u201d of the Curia, or he might be allowed to wear its\nbadges, or those of some office which he could not actually hold.(1397)\nBut it is plain that such distinctions had to be purchased or repaid. The\ncity seldom made any other return for generous devotion, unless it were\nthe space for a grave or the pageant of a public funeral. It is true that\na generous benefactor or magistrate is frequently honoured with a statue\nand memorial tablet. Indeed, the honour is so frequently bestowed that it\nseems to dwindle to an infinitesimal value.(1398) And it is to our eyes\nstill further reduced by the agreeable convention which seems to have made\nit a matter of good taste that the person so distinguished by his\nfellow-citizens should bear the expense of the record himself!(1399) Nor\ndid the expectations of the grateful public end even there; for, at the\ndedication of the monument, it was seemingly imperative to give a feast to\nthe generous community which allowed or required its benefactor to bear\nthe cost of the memorial of his own munificence.(1400) It is only fair,\nhowever, to say that this civic meanness was not universal, and that there\nare records to show that even the poorest class sometimes subscribed among\nthemselves to pay for the honour which they proposed to confer.(1401)\n\nThe Antonine age was an age of splendid public spirit and great material\nachievement. But truth compels us to recognise that even in the age of the\nAntonines, there were ominous signs of moral and administrative decay.\nMunicipal benefactors were rewarded with local fame and lavish flattery;\nbut the demands of the populace, together with the force of example and\nemulation, contributed to make the load which the rich had to bear more\nand more heavy. Many must have ruined themselves in their effort to hold\ntheir place, and to satisfy an exacting public sentiment. Men actually\nwent into debt to do so;(1402) and as municipal life became less\nattractive or more burdensome, the career of imperial office opened out\nand offered far higher distinction. The reorganisation of the imperial\nservice by Hadrian had immense effects in diverting ambition from old\nchannels. It created a great hierarchy of office, which absorbed the best\nability from the provinces. Provincials of means and position were\nconstantly visiting the capital for purposes of private business or\npleasure, or to represent their city as envoys to the emperor. They often\nmade powerful friends during their stay, and their sons, if not they\nthemselves, were easily tempted to abandon a municipal career for the\nprospect of a high place in the imperial army or the civil service.(1403)\nIt is true that the local tie often remained unbroken. The country town,\nof course, was proud of the distinction to which its sons rose in the\ngreat world; and many a one who had gained a knighthood or some military\nrank, returned to his birthplace in later years, and was enrolled among\nits patrons. We may be sure that many a successful man, like the Stertinii\nof Naples, paid \u201cnurture fees\u201d in the most generous way. But already in\nthe reign of Domitian, as we have seen, legal provision had to be made for\nthe contingency of an insufficient number of candidates for the municipal\nmagistracies. Already, in the reign of Trajan, the cities of Bithynia are\ncompelling men to become members of the Curia, and lowering the age of\nadmission to official rank.(1404) Plutarch laments that many provincials\nare turning their backs on their native cities and suing for lucrative\noffices at the doors of great Roman patrons.(1405) Apollonius of Tyana was\nindignant to find citizens of Ionia, at one of their great festivals,\nmasquerading in Roman names.(1406) The illustrious son of Chaeronea, with\na wistful backward glance at the freedom and the glories of the Periclean\nage, frankly recognises that, under the shadow of the Roman power, the\ncivic horizon has drawn in.(1407) It is a very different thing to hold\neven the highest magistracy at Thebes or Athens from what it was in the\ngreat days of Salamis or Leuctra. But Plutarch accepts the Empire as\ninevitable. He appreciates its blessings as much as Aristides or Dion\nChrysostom. He has none of the revolutionary rage which led Apollonius to\ncast reproaches at Vespasian, or to boast of his complicity in the\noverthrow of Nero.(1408) He has little sympathy with philosophers like\nEpictetus, who would sink the interests of everyday politics in the larger\nlife of the universal commonwealth of humanity. The Empire has\nextinguished much of civic glory and freedom, but let us recognise its\ncompensating blessings of an ordered peace. _Spartam nactus es, hanc\nexorna_, might be the motto of Plutarch\u2019s political counsels. He himself,\nwith a range of gifts and culture, which has made his name immortal, did\nnot disdain to hold a humble office in the poor little place which was his\nhome. And he appeals to the example of Epameinondas, who gave dignity to\nthe magistracy which was concerned with the duty of the cleansing of the\nsewers and streets of Thebes.(1409) He tells his young pupil that,\nalthough we have now no wars to wage, no alliances to conclude, we may\nwage war on some evil custom, revive some charitable institution, repair\nan aqueduct, or preside at a sacrifice. Yet Plutarch has a keen insight\ninto the municipal vices of his age, the passion for place and office, the\nhot unscrupulous rivalry which will stoop to any demagogic arts, the\nvenality of the crowd, and the readiness of the rich to pamper them with\nlargesses and shows, the insane passion for pompous decrees of thanks and\nmemorial statues; above all, the eager servility which abandoned even the\npoor remnant of municipal liberty, and was always inviting the\ninterference of the prince on the most trivial occasions.(1410) Such\nappeals paralyse civic energy and hasten the inevitable drift of\ndespotism. He exhorts men to strive by every means to raise the tone of\ntheir own community, instead of forsaking it in fastidious scorn, or\nambition for a more spacious and splendid life.\n\nThe growing distaste for municipal honours was to some extent caused by\nbureaucratic encroachments on the independence of the Curia. As early as\nthe reign of Trajan there are unmistakable signs, as we have seen, of\nfinancial mismanagement and decay. The case of Bithynia, in Trajan\u2019s\nreign, is sometimes treated as an exceptional one. It may be doubted\nwhether it is not a conspicuous example of general disorganisation. The\nBithynian towns were probably not alone in their ill-considered\nexpenditure on faultily planned aqueducts and theatres. Apamea was\ncertainly not the only city which called for an imperial auditor of its\naccounts. Inscriptions of the reign of Trajan show that many towns in\nItaly, Como, Canusium, Praeneste, Pisa, Bergamum, and Caere, had curators\nof their administration appointed, some as early as the reigns of Hadrian\nor Trajan.(1411) These officers, who were always unconnected with the\nmunicipality, took over the financial control, which had previously\nbelonged to the duumvirs and quaestors. They were often senators or\nequites of high rank, and a single curator sometimes had the supervision\nof several municipalities. The case of Caere is peculiarly instructive and\ninteresting.(1412) There, an imperial freedman, named Vesbinus, proposed\nto erect at his own cost a club-house (_phretrium_), for the augustales,\nand asked the municipal authorities for a site close to the basilica. At a\nformal meeting of the Curia, the ground was granted to him, subject to the\napproval of Curiatius Cosanus, the curator, with a vote of thanks for his\nliberality. A letter to that official was drawn up, stating the whole\ncase, and asking for his sanction. The curator, writing from Ameria,\ngranted it in the most cordial terms. It is noteworthy that at the very\ntime when Caere was consulting its curator about the proposal of\nVesbinus,(1413) the Bithynian cities were laying bare their financial and\nengineering difficulties to Pliny and Trajan. The glory of free civic life\nis already on the wane. The municipality has invited or submitted to\nimperial control. The burdens of office have begun to outweigh its glory\nand distinction. In a generation or two the people will have lost their\nelective power, and the Curia will appoint the municipal officers from its\nown ranks. It will end by becoming a mere administrative machine for\nlevying the imperial taxes; men will fly from its crushing obligations to\nany refuge; and the flight of the curiales will be as momentous as the\ncoming of the Goths.(1414)\n\nThe judgment on that externally splendid city life of the Antonine age\nwill be determined by the ideals of the inquirer. There was a genuine love\nof the common home, a general pride in its splendour and distinction. And\nthe duty, firmly imposed by public sentiment on the well-endowed to\ncontribute out of their abundance to its material comfort and its glory,\nwas freely accepted and lavishly performed. Nor was this expenditure all\ndevoted to mere selfish gratification. The helplessness of orphanhood and\nage, the penury and monotonous dulness of the lives of great sunken\nclasses, the education of the young, were drawing forth the pity of the\ncharitable. Munificence was often indeed, in obedience to the sentiment of\nthe time, wasted on objects which were unworthy, or even to our minds base\nand corrupting. Men seemed to think too much of feasting and the cruel\namusement of an hour. Yet when a whole commune was regaled at the\ndedication of a bath or a temple, there was a healthy social sympathy\ndiffused for the moment through all ranks, which softened the hard lines\nby which that ancient society was parted.\n\nYet, in looking back, we cannot help feeling that over all this scene of\nkindliness and generosity and social good-will, there broods a shadow. It\nis not merely the doom of free civic life, which is so clearly written on\nthe walls of every curial hall of assembly from the days of Trajan, to be\nfulfilled in the long-drawn tragedy of the fourth and fifth centuries;\nthree hundred years have still to run before the inevitable catastrophe.\nIt is rather the feeling which seems to lurk under many a sentence, half\npitiful, half contemptuous, of M. Aurelius, penned, perhaps, as he looked\ndown on some gorgeous show in the amphitheatre, when the Numidian lion was\nlaid low by a deft stroke of the hunting-spear, or a gallant Myrmillo from\nthe Thames or the Danube sank upon the sand in his last conflict.(1415) It\nis the feeling of Dion, when he watched the Alexandrians palpitating with\nexcitement over a race in the circus, or the cities of Bithynia convulsed\nby some question of shadowy precedence or the claim to a line of\nsandhills. It is the swiftly stealing shadow of that mysterious eclipse\nwhich was to rest on intellect and literature till the end of the Western\nEmpire. It is the burden of all religious philosophy from Seneca to\nEpictetus, which was one long warning against the perils of a materialised\ncivilisation. The warning of the pagan preacher was little heeded; the\nlesson was not learnt in time. Is it possible that a loftier spiritual\nforce may find itself equally helpless to arrest a strangely similar\ndecline?\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER III\n\n\n                      THE COLLEGES AND PLEBEIAN LIFE\n\n\nThe _Populus_ or _Plebs_ of a municipal town of the early Empire is often\nmentioned in the inscriptions along with the _Ordo_ and the Augustales,\ngenerally in demanding some benefaction, or in doing honour to some\nbenevolent patron.(1416) They also appear as recipients of a smaller share\nat public feasts and distributions. They occasionally engage in a fierce\nconflict with the higher orders, as at Puteoli in the reign of Nero, when\nthe discord was so menacing as to call for the presence of a praetorian\ncohort.(1417) The election placards of Pompeii also disclose a keen\npopular interest in the municipal elections.(1418) But the common people\nare now as a rule chiefly known to us from the inscriptions on their\ntombs. Fortunately there is an immense profusion, in all the provinces as\nwell as in Italy, of these brief memorials of obscure lives. And although\nRoman literature, which was the product of the aristocratic class or of\ntheir dependents, generally pays but little attention to the despised mass\nengaged in menial services or petty trades, we have seen that the novel of\nPetronius flashes a brilliant light upon it in the reign of Nero.\n\nThe immense development of the free proletariat, in the time of the early\nEmpire, is one of the most striking social phenomena which the study of\nthe inscriptions has brought to light. It has sometimes been the custom to\nspeak of that society as depending for the supply of its wants entirely on\nslave labour. And undoubtedly at one time slave labour occupied the\nlargest part of the field of industry. A household in the time of the\nRepublic, of even moderate wealth, might have 400 slaves, while a Crassus\nwould have as many as 20,000, whom he hired out in various\nindustries.(1419) But several causes conspired gradually to work a great\nindustrial revolution. From the days of Augustus, the wars beyond the\nfrontier, which added fresh territory and yielded crowds of captives to\nthe slave-markets, had become less frequent. And it is probable that\nbirths among the slave class hardly sufficed to maintain its numbers\nagainst the depletion caused by mortality and manumission. The practice of\nemancipating slaves of the more intelligent class went on so rapidly that\nit had even to be restrained by law.(1420) Masters found it economically\nprofitable to give skilful slaves an interest in the profits of their\nindustry, and the _peculium_, which was thus accumulated, soon provided\nthe means of purchasing emancipation. At the same time, the dispersion of\ncolossal fortunes, gained in the age of rapine and conquest, and\nsquandered in luxury and excess, together with the exploitation of the\nresources of favoured regions, which were now enjoying the blessings of\nunimpeded commerce, rapid intercommunication, and perfect security, must\nhave given an immense stimulus to free industry. A very casual glance at\nthe inscriptions, under the heading _Artes et Opificia_,(1421) will show\nthe enormous and flourishing development of skilled handicrafts, with all\nthe minutest specialisation of the arts that wait on a highly-organised\nand luxurious society. The epitaphs of these obscure toilers have been\nbrought to light in every part of the Roman world, in remote towns in\nSpain, Gaul, Noricum, Dacia, and North Africa, as well as in the ancient\ncentres of refinement in Italy or the Greek East. On a single page or two\nyou can read the simple record of the bridle-maker or flask-maker of\nNarbonne, the cabriolet-driver of Senegallia, the cooper of Tr\u00e8ves, the\nstone-cutter of N\u00eemes, the purple-dealer of Augsburg, beside those of the\nwool-comber of Brescia, the oculist of Bologna, the plumber of Naples, or\nthe vendors of unguents in the Via Sacra, and the humble fruiterer of the\nCircus Maximus.(1422) Many of these people had risen from slavery into the\nfreedman class. Most of them are evidently humble folk, although, like a\ncertain female pearl-dealer of the Via Sacra, they may have freedmen and\nfreedwomen of their own, for whom they provide a last resting-place beside\nthemselves.(1423) The barber, or auctioneer, or leather-seller, who had\nbecome the owner of lands and houses, and who could even give gladiatorial\nshows, excited the contempt of Juvenal and Martial.(1424) But these\ninsignificant people, although despised by the old world of aristocratic\ntradition, were proud of their crafts. They tell posterity who and what\nthey were, without any vulgar concealment; nay, they have left expensive\ntombs, with the emblems or instruments of their petty trades proudly\nblazoned upon them like the armorial devices of our families of gentle\nbirth. In the museum of S. Germain may be seen the effigy of the\napple-seller commending his fruit to the attention of the ladies of the\nquarter; the cooper, with a cask upon his shoulder; the smith, hammer in\nhand, at the forge; the fuller, treading out and dressing the cloth.(1425)\nThis pride in honest industry is a new and healthy sign, as a reaction\nfrom the contempt for it which was engrained in old Roman society, and\nwhich is always congenial to an aristocratic caste supported by slave\nlabour. In spite of the grossness and base vulgarity of sudden wealth,\nportrayed by Petronius and Juvenal, the new class of free artisans and\ntraders had often, so far as we can judge by stone records, a sound and\nhealthy life, sobered and dignified by honest toil, and the pride of skill\nand independence. Individually weak and despised, they were finding the\nmeans of developing an organisation, which at once cultivated social\nfeeling, heightened their self-respect, and guarded their collective\ninterests. While the old aristocracy were being rapidly thinned by vice\nand extravagance, or by confiscation, the leaders of the new industrial\nmovement probably founded many a senatorial house, which, in the fourth\nand fifth centuries, in an ever-recurring fashion, came to regard manual\nindustry with sublime contempt, and traced themselves to Aemilius Paullus\nor Scipio, or even to Aeneas or Agamemnon.(1426)\n\nThe organisation of industry through the colleges attained an immense\ndevelopment in the Antonine age, and still more in the third century,\nafter the definite sanction and encouragement given to these societies by\nAlexander Severus. The records of the movement are numerous, and we can,\nafter the scholarly sifting of recent years, now form a tolerably complete\nand vivid conception of these corporations which, springing up at first\nspontaneously, in defiance of government, or with its reluctant\nconnivance, were destined, under imperial control, to petrify into an\nintolerable system of caste servitude in the last century of the Empire of\nthe West.(1427)\n\nThe sodalitia and collegia were of immemorial antiquity. Certain\nindustrial colleges and sacred sodalities were traced back to Numa, and\neven to the foundation of Rome.(1428) In the flourishing days of the\nRepublic they multiplied without restraint or suspicion, the only\nassociations at which the law looked askance being those which met\nsecretly or by night. It was only in the last century of the Republic that\nthe colleges came to be regarded as dangerous to the public peace, and\nthey were, with some necessary exceptions, suppressed by a decree of the\nSenate in 64 B.C. They were revived again for factious or revolutionary\npurposes in 58 B.C. by Clodius.(1429) The emperors Julius and Augustus\nabolished the free right of association, except in the case of a few\nconsecrated by their antiquity or their religious character.(1430) And it\nwas enacted that new colleges could not be created without special\nauthorisation. In the middle of the second century, the jurist Gaius lays\nit down that the formation of new colleges was restrained by laws, decrees\nof the Senate, and imperial constitutions, although a certain number of\nsocieties, both in Rome and the provinces, such as those of the miners,\nsalt workers, bakers, and boatmen, were authorised.(1431) And down to the\ntime of Justinian, the right of free association was jealously watched as\na possible menace to the public peace. The refusal of Trajan to sanction\nthe formation of a company of firemen in Nicomedia, with the reasons which\nhe gave to Pliny for his decision, furnishes the best concrete\nillustration of the imperial policy towards the colleges.(1432) That the\ndanger from the colleges to the public order was not an imaginary one, is\nclear from the passage in Tacitus describing the bloody riots between the\npeople of Nuceria and Pompeii in the reign of Nero, which had evidently\nbeen fomented by \u201cillicit\u201d clubs.(1433) It is seen even more strikingly in\nthe serious troubles of the reign of Aurelian, when 7000 people were\nkilled in the organised outbreak of the workmen of the mint.(1434) Yet it\nis pretty clear that, in spite of legislation, and imperial distrust, the\ncolleges were multiplying, not only in Rome, but in remote, insignificant\nplaces, and even in the camps, from which the legislator was specially\ndetermined to avert their temptations. In the blank wilderness, created by\na universal despotism, the craving for sympathy and mutual succour\ninspired a great social movement, which legislation was powerless to\ncheck. Just as in the reigns of Theodosius and Honorius, imperial edicts\nand rescripts were paralysed by the impalpable, quietly irresistible force\nof a universal social need or sentiment. One simple means of evasion was\nprovided by the government itself, probably as early as the first century.\nIn an inscription of Lanuvium, of the year 136 A.D., there is a recital of\na decree of the Senate according the right of association to those who\nwish to form a funerary college, provided the members did not meet more\nthan once a month to make their contributions.(1435) It appears from\nMarcian\u2019s reference to this law that other meetings for purposes of\nreligious observance might be held, the provisions of the\n_senatusconsultum_ against illicit colleges being carefully\nobserved.(1436) Mommsen has shown that many other pious and charitable\npurposes could be easily brought within the scope of the funerary\nassociation. And it was not difficult for a society which desired to make\na monthly contribution for any purpose to take the particular form\nrecognised by the law. In the reign of M. Aurelius, although membership of\ntwo colleges is still prohibited, the colleges obtained the legal right to\nreceive bequests, and to emancipate their slaves. And finally, Alexander\nSeverus organised all the industrial colleges and assigned them\n_defensores_.(1437)\n\nThe law against illicit associations, with all its serious penalties,\nremained in the imperial armoury. But the Empire, which had striven to\nprevent combination, really furnished the greatest incentive to combine.\nIn the face of that world-wide and all-powerful system, the individual\nsubject felt, ever more and more, his loneliness and helplessness. The\nimperial power might be well-meaning and beneficent, but it was so\nterrible and levelling in the immense sweep of its forces, that the\nisolated man seemed, in its presence, reduced to the insignificance of an\ninsect or a grain of sand. Moreover, the aristocratic constitution of\nmunicipal society became steadily more and more exclusive. If the rich\ndecurions catered for the pleasures of the people, it was on the condition\nthat they retained their monopoly of political power and social\nprecedence. The plebeian crowd, recruited from the ranks of slavery, and\never growing in numbers and, in their higher ranks, in wealth, did not\nindeed dream of breaking down these barriers of exclusiveness; but they\nclaimed, and quietly asserted, the right to organise a society of their\nown, for protection against oppression, for mutual sympathy and support,\nfor relief from the deadly dulness of an obscure and sordid life.\nIndividually weak and despised, they might, by union, gain a sense of\ncollective dignity and strength. To our eyes, as perhaps to the eyes of\nthe Roman aristocrat, the dignity might seem far from imposing. But these\nthings are greatly a matter of imagination, and depend on the breadth of\nthe mental horizon. When the brotherhood, many of them of servile grade,\nmet in full conclave, in the temple of their patron deity, to pass a\nformal decree of thanks to a benefactor, and regale themselves with a\nmodest repast, or when they passed through the streets and the forum with\nbanners flying, and all the emblems of their guild, the meanest member\nfelt himself lifted for the moment above the dim, hopeless obscurity of\nplebeian life.\n\nNo small part of old Roman piety consisted in a scrupulous reverence for\nthe dead, and a care to prolong their memory by solid memorial and solemn\nritual, it might be to maintain some faint tie of sympathy with the shade\nwhich had passed into a dim and rather cheerless world. The conception of\nthat other state was always vague, often purely negative. It is not often\nthat a spirit is sped on its way to join a loved one in the Elysian\nfields, and we may fear that such phrases, when they do occur, are rather\nliterary and conventional.(1438) The hope of blessed reunion after death\nseldom meets us till we come to some monument of a Christian\nfreedman.(1439) But two of the deepest feelings in the Roman mind did duty\nfor a clear faith in the life beyond the tomb: one was family piety, the\nother the passionate desire of the parting spirit to escape neglect and\noblivion. Whoever will cast his eyes over some pages of the sepulchral\ninscriptions will be struck with the intensity and warmth of affection,\nthe bitterness of loss and grief, which have been committed to the stone.\nThe expressions, of course, are often conventional, like obituary\nmemorials in every age. The model wife appears again and again, loving,\nchaste, pious, a woman of the antique model, a keeper at home, who spun\namong her maids and suckled her own children, who never gave her husband a\nmoment\u2019s vexation, except when she died.(1440) Good husbands seem to have\nbeen not less common. And the wife\u2019s grief sometimes far outruns the\nregular forms of eulogy or regret. In one pathetic memorial of a union\nformed in earliest youth, the lonely wife begs the unseen Powers to let\nher have the vision of her spouse in the hours of night, and bring her\nquickly to his side.(1441) There is just the same pure affection in the\nless regular, but often as stable, unions of the slaves and soldiers, and\nthe _contubernalis_ is lamented with the same honourable affection as the\ngreat lady, although the faulty Latin sometimes betrays the class to which\nthe author belongs. The slave world must always have its shame and\ntragedy; yet many an inscription shows, by a welcome gleam of light, that\neven there human love and ties of family were not always desecrated.(1442)\nThe slave nurse erects a monument to her little foster child; or a master\nand mistress raise an affectionate memorial to two young _vernae_ who died\non one day. A freedman bewails, with warm sincerity, a friendship begun in\nthe slave market, and never interrupted till the last fatal hour.(1443)\nThe common tragedies of affection meet us on these slabs, as they are\nreproduced from age to age with little variation. The prevalent note is,\n_Vale vale in aeternum_, with thoughts of the ghostly ferryman and the\ninfernal stream and hopeless separation. Now and then, but seldom, a soul\npasses cheerfully from the light which it has loved, happy to escape the\nburden of old age.(1444) And sometimes, too, but seldom, we meet with a\ncold, hard grossness, which looks back with perfect content upon a full\nlife of the flesh and takes the prospect of nothingness with a cheerful\nacquiescence.(1445)\n\nThe true Roman had a horror of the loneliness of death, of the day when no\nkindly eye would read his name and style upon the slab, when no hand for\nevermore would bring the annual offering of wine and flowers. It is\npathetic to see how universal is the craving to be remembered felt even by\nslaves, by men plying the most despised or unsavoury crafts. The infant\nJulius Diadumenus, who has only drawn breath for four hours, receives an\nenduring memorial. A wife consoles her grief with the thought that her\nhusband\u2019s name and fame will be forever prolonged by the slab which she\ndedicates.(1446) On another monument the traveller along the Flaminian Way\nis begged to stop and read again the epitaph on a boy of nine.(1447) Many\nare tortured by the fear of the desertion or the violation of their\n\u201ceternal home.\u201d An old veteran bequeaths from his savings a sum of about\n\u00a380, to provide a supply of oil for the lamp above his tomb.(1448) An\nunguent seller of Montferrat leaves a fine garden to afford to the\nguardians of his grave an annual feast upon his birthday, and the roses\nwhich are to be laid upon it for ever.(1449) Many a prayer, by the gods of\nthe upper and the lower worlds, appeals to the passing wayfarer not to\ndisturb the eternal rest.(1450) The alienation or desecration of a tomb is\nforbidden with curses or the threat of heavy penalties.(1451) A place of\nburial was a coveted possession, which was not easily attainable by the\npoor and friendless, and practical persons guarded their repose against\nlawless intrusion by requiring the delinquent to pay a heavy fine to the\nmunicipal or to the imperial treasury, or to the pontifical college. It\nwas the most effectual way of securing the peace of the dead. For the\npublic authorities had a direct pecuniary interest in enforcing the\npenalty for the desecration. But it would be interesting to know how long\nthese provisions to protect for ever the peace of the departed fulfilled\nthe hopes of the testator.\n\nThe primary object of a multitude of colleges, like that of the\nworshippers of Diana and Antinous at Lanuvium, was undoubtedly, after the\nreign of Nerva, the care of the memory of their members after death. In\nthe remarkable inscription of Lanuvium, as we have seen, the formal\npermission by decree of the Senate, to meet once a month for the purpose\nof a funerary contribution is recorded.(1452) It was a momentous\nconcession, and carried consequences which the legislator may or may not\nhave intended.(1453) The jurist Marcian, who gives an imperfect citation\nof this part of the decree, goes on to add, that meetings for a religious\npurpose were not prohibited, provided that the previous legislation\nagainst illicit societies was observed.(1454) And the law of the Lanuvian\nCollege shows how often such meetings might take place. It did not need\nmuch ingenuity to multiply occasions for reunion. The anniversary of the\nfoundation, the birthday of founders or benefactors, the feast of the\npatron deity, the birthday of the emperor, these and the like occasions\nfurnished legal pretexts for meetings of the society, when the members\nmight have a meal together, and when the conversation would not always be\nconfined to the funerary business of the college. At a time when,\naccording to juristic theory, a special permission was needed for each new\nfoundation, and when the authority was grudgingly accorded, the whole vast\nplebeian mass of petty traders, artisans, freedmen, and slaves were at one\nstroke allowed to organise their societies for burial. We may fairly\nassume that, liberally interpreted, the new law was allowed to cover with\nits sanction many a college of which funeral rites were not the sole, or\neven the primary object. And this would be made all the easier because\nmany of the industrial colleges, and perhaps still more of the strictly\nreligious colleges, had a common burial-place, and often received bequests\nfor funerary purposes. This is the case, for example, with a college of\nworshippers of Hercules at Interamna, and a similar college at\nReate.(1455) A young Belgian, belonging to the guild of armourers of the\n20th legion, was buried by his college at Bath.(1456) One C. Valgius\nFuscus gave a burial-ground at Forum Sempronii, in Umbria, to a college of\nmuleteers of the Porta Gallica, for their wives or concubines, and their\nposterity.(1457) There is even a burial-place, duly defined by exact\nmeasurement, for those \u201cwho are in the habit of dining together,\u201d a\ndescription which, as time went on, would have applied as accurately as\nany other to many of these clubs.(1458)\n\nWe are, by a rare piece of good fortune, admitted to the interior of one\nof the purely funerary colleges. In the reign of Hadrian there was at\nLanuvium a college which, by a curious fancy, combined the worship of the\npure Diana with that of the deified minion of the emperor. It was founded\nin A.D. 133, three years after the tragic death of the young favourite.\nAnd in 136, the patron of the society, who was also a magnate of the town,\ncaused it to be convened in the temple of Antinous. There he announced the\ngift of a sum of money, the interest of which was to be spent at the\nfestivals of the patron deities; and he directed that the deed of\nfoundation should be inscribed on the inner walls of the portico of the\ntemple, so that newly admitted members might be informed of their rights\nand their obligations. This document, discovered among the ruins of the\nancient Lanuvium in 1816, reveals many important facts in the constitution\nand working of funerary colleges.(1459) It recites, as we have seen, a\npart of the _senatusconsultum_, which authorised the existence of such\ncolleges, and after loyal wishes for the prosperity of the emperor and his\nhouse, it prays for an honest energy in contributing to the due interment\nof the dead, that by regular payments the society may prolong its\nexistence.\n\nThe entrance fee of the college is to be 100 sesterces (16s. 8d.),\ntogether with a flagon of good wine. A monthly subscription of five asses\nis appointed. It is evident that the members are of the humblest class,\nand one clause shows that they have even a sprinkling of slaves among\nthem, who, with the permission of their masters, might connect themselves\nwith these burial clubs.(1460) The brethren could not aspire to the\nerection even of a _columbarium_, still less to the possession of a common\nburial-ground. They confined themselves to making a funeral grant of\nHS.300 to the appointed heir of each member who had not intermitted his\npayments to the common fund.(1461) Out of this sum, HS.50 are to be paid\nto members present at the funeral. The member dying intestate will be\nburied by the society, and no claim upon his remaining interest in it will\nbe recognised. The slave, whose body was retained by his master after\ndeath, was to have a _funus imaginarium_, and probably a cenotaph. In the\ncase of a member dying within a radius of twenty miles from Lanuvium,\nthree members, on timely notice, were deputed to arrange for the funeral,\nand required to render an account of the expenses so incurred. A fee of\nHS.20 was granted to each. But if any fraud were discovered in their\naccounts, a fine of quadruple the amount was imposed. Lastly, when a\nmember died beyond the prescribed limit, the person who had arranged his\nfuneral, on due attestation by seven Roman citizens, and security given\nagainst any further claims, received the burial grant, with certain\ndeductions.(1462) In such precise and orderly fashion, with all the\ncautious forms of Roman law, did this poor little society order its\nperformance of duty to the dead.\n\nOur knowledge of the funerary colleges is still further amplified by an\ninscription of a date twenty years later than that of Lanuvium.(1463) In\nthe reign of Antoninus Pius a lady named Salvia Marcellina resolved to\ncommemorate her husband by a gift to the college of Aesculapius and Hygia.\nShe presented to it the site for a shrine close to the Appian Way, a\nmarble statue of Aesculapius, and a hall opening on a terrace, where the\nbanquets of the brotherhood should be held. To this benefaction\nMarcellina, along with one P. Aelius Zeno, who apparently was her brother,\nadded two donations of HS.15,000 and HS.10,000 respectively, the interest\nof which was to be distributed in money, or food and wine, at six\ndifferent festivals. The proportions assignable to each rank in the\ncollege were determined at a full meeting, held in the shrine of the\n\u201cDivine Titus.\u201d Marcellina attaches certain conditions to her gift. The\nsociety is to be limited to sixty members, and the place of each member,\non his decease, is to be filled by the co-optation of his son. If any\nmember chooses to bequeath his place and interest, his choice is confined\nto his son, his brother, or his freedman, and he is required to pay for\nthis limited freedom of selection by refunding one-half of his burial\ngrant to the chest of the college.(1464) The college of Aesculapius is\nnominally a religious and funerary corporation, yet there is only a single\nreference, in a long document, to the subject of burial. No information is\ngiven as to the amount of the _funeraticium_ or burial grant, the sources\nfrom which it is derived, or the conditions on which it is to be paid. The\nchief object of Marcellina seems to have been to connect the memory of her\nhusband with a number of festivals, for the perpetuity of which she makes\nprovision, to promote social intercourse, and to prevent the intrusion of\nstrangers by making membership practically hereditary.\n\nThe colleges, of whose inner working we have tried to give a picture, are\nclassed as religious corporations in the collections of the inscriptions.\nThey bear the name of a god, and they provide a solemn interment for their\nmembers. But in these respects they do not differ from many other colleges\nwhich are regarded as purely secular. The truth is, that any attempt to\nmake a sharp division of these societies on such lines seems futile.\nSepulture and religion being admitted by the government as legitimate\nobjects for association, any college, however secular in its tone, might,\nand probably would, screen itself under sacred names. Nor would this be\nmerely a hypocritical pretence. It is clear that many of the purely\nindustrial colleges, composed as they were of poor people who found it\nimpossible to purchase a separate burial-place, and not easy, unaided, to\nbear the expense of the last rites, at once consulted their convenience,\nand gratified the sentiment of fraternity, by arranging for a common place\nof interment. And with regard to religion, it is a commonplace to point\nout that all Graeco-Roman societies, great or small, rested on religion.\nThe state, the clan, the family, found their ideal and firmest bond in\nreverence for divine or heroic ancestors, a reverent piety towards the\nspirits who had passed into the unseen world. The colleges, as we shall\nsee presently, were formed on the lines of the city which they almost\nslavishly imitated.(1465) It would be strange and anomalous if they should\ndesert their model in that which was its most original and striking\ncharacteristic. And just as Cleisthenes found divine and heroic patrons\nfor his new tribes and demes,(1466) so would a Roman college naturally\nplace itself under the protection of one of the great names of the Roman\npantheon. Sometimes, no doubt, there may not have been much sincerity in\nthis conformity to ancient pieties. But do we need to remind ourselves how\nlong a life the form of ancient pieties may have, even when the faith\nwhich gave birth to them has become dim and faint?\n\nThe usual fashion of writing Roman history has concentrated attention on\nthe doings of the emperor, the life of the noble class in the capital, or\non the stations of the legions and the political organisation of the\nprovinces. It is a stately and magnificent panorama. But it is apt to\nthrow the life of the masses into even deeper shadow than that in which\ntime has generally enwrapped them. We are prone to forget that, behind all\nthis stately life, there was a quiet yet extraordinarily busy industrial\nactivity which was its necessary basis and which catered for all its\ncaprices. In the most cursory way Tacitus tells us that a great part of\nItaly was gathered for the great fair at Cremona, on the fateful days when\nthe town was stormed by the army of Vespasian.(1467) Yet what a gathering\nit must have been! There were laid out in the booths the fine woollens of\nParma and Mutina, the mantles of Canusium, the purples of Tarentum, the\ncarpets of Patavium. Traders from Ilva brought their iron wares, Pompeii\nsent its fish sauces, and Lucania its famous sausages. Nor would there be\nmissing in the display the oil of Venafrum, and the famous Setine and\nFalernian vintages.(1468) The improvement of the great roads in the reign\nof Trajan must have given a vast stimulus to inland commerce. And we may\nbe sure that many a petty merchant with his pack was to be seen along the\nAemilian or Flaminian ways, like the travelling vendor of honey and\ncheese, whom Lucius, in the tale of Apuleius, meets hurrying to\nHypata.(1469) The great roads of Spain, since the days of Augustus,\ncarried an immense traffic, which made even the distant Gades a\nmagnificent emporium and one of the richest places in the Roman\nworld.(1470)\n\nThe wandering traders in Germany, Spain, or Syria, by a natural instinct\ndrew together in their exile. In the revolt of Julius Civilis, they are\nfound settled among the Batavians, and a _collegium peregrinorum_ has left\nits memorial on the lower Rhine.(1471) The _sodalicium urbanum_ at Bracara\nAugusta is a similar society.(1472) Another mercantile college meets us at\nApulum in Dacia.(1473) The Syrians of Berytus had a club at Puteoli, and\nthere were at least two clubs of Syrian traders at Malaga.(1474) The\ngraves of Syrian traders have been found at Sirmium in Pannonia, and, on\nthe other hand, there are memorials of Roman merchants at Apamea and\nTralles, at Salamis and Mitylene.(1475) Immense stimulus to this\ntransmarine trade must have been given by the Emperor Claudius, who\nprovided insurance against loss by storms, and a liberal system of\nbounties and rewards for shipping enterprise.(1476) Apollonius of Tyana\nonce expostulated with a young Spartan, who claimed descent from\nCallicratidas, for having forsaken the true career of a man of his race,\nto soil himself with the trade of Carthage and Sicily. It is the sentiment\nof Juvenal who treats as a lunatic the man who will venture his life with\na cargo on the wintry Aegean.(1477) But the antiquarian rhetoric\nattributed to Apollonius embalms the fact that at the opening of a\nspringtime in the reign of Domitian, a great merchant fleet was lying at\nMalea, ready to sail to the western seas.(1478) These wandering merchants,\nwherever they went, banded themselves in colleges for mutual protection\nand for society. In the same way, old soldiers, on their return from long\nservice on the frontiers, gathered in military brotherhoods at such places\nas Ostia or Misenum.(1479) The veterans of Augustus seem to have become a\ndistinct and recognised class, like the Augustales.(1480) Colleges of\nyouth sprang up everywhere from the days of Nero, at Beneventum, Cremona,\nand Ameria, or at Moguntiacum, Lauriacum, and Poetovio.(1481) They were\nformed, like our own sporting clubs, for exercise and healthy rivalry,\noften under the patronage of the divine hero who, to all the moralists of\nthat age, had become the mythic type of the continent vigour of early\nmanhood. There is one sodality at least devoted to the preservation of\nchastity.(1482) But it is balanced by the clubs of the \u201clate sleepers\u201d and\n\u201clate drinkers\u201d of Pompeii.(1483)\n\nThe colleges in which the artisans and traders of the Antonine age grouped\nthemselves are almost innumerable, even in the records which time has\nspared. They represent almost every conceivable branch of industry or\nspecial skill or social service, from the men who laid the fine sand in\nthe arena, to the rich wine merchants of Lyons or Ostia.(1484) The mere\ncatalogue of these associations in an index will give an enlarged\nconception of the immense range and minute specialisation of Roman\nindustry. It may be doubted whether a similar enumeration of our English\ncrafts would be longer or more varied. The great trades, which minister to\nthe first necessities of human life, occupy of course the largest space,\nthe bakers, the cloth-makers, the smiths, carpenters, and wood-merchants,\ntrades often grouped together, the shoemakers and fullers and carders of\nwool. The mechanics, who made the arms and engines for the legions,\nnaturally hold a prominent place. Nor less prominent are the boatmen of\nOstia, and of the Rhone and the Sa\u00f4ne.(1485) The sailors of these great\nrivers had several powerful corporations at Lyons, and, on many an\ninscription,(1486) claim the wealthiest citizens, men who have gained the\nwhole series of municipal honours, as their chiefs and patrons. Arles,\nwhich was then a great sea-port, had its five corporations of sailor-folk,\nand Ostia an equal number, charged with the momentous task of taking up\nthe cargoes of the African corn-ships for the bakeries of Rome.(1487)\nTransport by land is represented by colleges of muleteers and ass drivers\nin the Alps and Apennines.(1488) All the many trades and services which\nministered to the wants or pleasures of the capital were similarly banded\ntogether, the actors and horn-blowers, the porters and paviors, down to\nthe humble dealers in pastils and salt fish.(1489) We have seen that even\nthe gladiators, in their barrack-prisons, were allowed to form their\nclubs. Although traces of these combinations are found in remote and\nobscure places all over the Roman world, it is at great commercial\ncentres, at Ostia, Puteoli, Lyons, and Rome itself, that they have left\nthe most numerous remains. They had probably for one of their objects the\nprotection of their members against encroachments or fiscal oppression.\nStrabo once came across a deputation of fishermen on their way to plead\nwith the Emperor for a reduction of their dues.(1490) Yet it would be a\nmistake to suppose that these trades unions were always organised for\ntrade objects, or that the separate colleges were composed of people\nengaged in the same occupation. They had many honorary members from among\nthe richer classes, and, even in the lower ranks, in defiance of the\nlaw,(1491) a dealer in salt might be enrolled among the boatmen of the\nRhone, and member of a college of builders.(1492) In truth, the great\nobject of association among these humble people appears to have been not\nso much the protection of their trade, as the cheerfulness of intercourse,\nthe promotion of fellowship and good-will, the relief of the dulness of\nhumdrum lives.\n\nProbably no age, not even our own, ever felt a greater craving for some\nform of social life, wider than the family, and narrower than the State.\nIt was a movement at which, as we have seen, even the greatest and\nstrongest of the emperors had to connive. It penetrated society down to\nits lowest layers. Even the slaves and freedmen of great houses organised\nthemselves in colleges. There were colleges in the imperial\nhousehold.(1493) T. Aelius Primitivus, chief of the imperial kitchen,\nbeing a man of great posthumous ambition, left the care of his own and his\nwife\u2019s monument to the college of the palatine cooks.(1494) In the\ninscriptions of Moesia there is the album of a Bacchic club of household\nslaves containing 80 names, with apparently different grades among them,\ndesignated by such titles as _archimysta_, _bouleuta_, _frater_ and\n_filius_.(1495) A similar club of the servile class, devoted to the\nworship of Isis, existed at Tarraco.(1496) The officers of another bear\nthe pompous titles of tribune, quaestor, and triumvir, and the slab\nrecords the thanks of one Hilara, that her ashes have been allowed to\nmingle in the same urn with those of Mida the chamberlain.(1497) A\nprovincial treasurer at Ephesus, who was a _verna Augusti_, commits the\ncustody of his wife\u2019s monument to five colleges of slaves and freedmen in\nthe emperor\u2019s household. One of the colleges bears the name of Faustina.\nAnother college is devoted to the cult of the Lares and images of\nAntoninus Pius.(1498) Private masters seem to have encouraged the\nformation of such associations among their dependents, and sometimes to\nhave endowed them with a perpetual foundation.(1499) It was probably\npolitic, as well as kind, to provide for slaves social pleasures within\nthe circle of the household, and thus to forestall the attractions of the\nnumerous clubs outside, which freely offered their hospitality.(1500) We\nmay be sure that the college \u201cwhich was in the house of Sergia Paulina\u201d\nwas not encouraged by the mistress without good reason.\n\nThus it appears that in every part of the Roman world, in the decaying\nlittle country town, and in the great trading centres, the same great\nmovement of association, is going on apace. It swept into its current\nalmost every social grade, and every trade, handicraft or profession, the\npastil-makers, the green-grocers and unguent sellers of Rome, the\nmuleteers of the Alps, the fullers of Pompeii, the doctors at Beneventum,\nthe boatmen of the Seine, the wine merchants of Lyons. Men formed\nthemselves into these groups for the most trivial or whimsical reasons, or\nfor no reason at all, except that they lived in the same quarter, and\noften met.(1501) From the view which the inscriptions give us of the\ninterior of some of these clubs, it is clear that their main purpose was\nsocial pleasure. And this is especially true of the clubs of the humblest\nclass. M. Boissier has well remarked that the poor workman, the poor\nfreedman, with the brand of recent slavery upon him, who was often engaged\nin some mean or disgusting occupation, amidst a society which from\ntradition regarded any industry soiled by servile touch with distant\nscorn, must have felt themselves solitary exiles in the desert of a great\ntown, the most awful desert in the world. The remote splendour of the\ncourt and aristocratic life must have deepened the gloom of isolation and\nhelplessness. Shut out for ever from that brilliant world of fashion and\npleasure and power, whose social life seemed so charming and gay and\nfriendly, the despised and lonely toiler sought a refuge in little\ngatherings of people as lonely as himself. At some chance meeting, some\none, more energetic than the rest, would throw out the suggestion to form\na club, on the model of some of the old trade societies which had always\nbeen authorised by the State from the days of Numa, or of those newer\nassociations which were now tacitly permitted under the guise of religion.\nA small entrance fee would meet, for the time, their modest expenses. In\nthat age of generous or ambitious profusion, it was not hard to find some\ninfluential patron, a kindly gracious noble, or an aspiring or generous\n_parvenu_, to give the infant society his countenance, along with a\nsubstantial donation for the building of a club-house, and for simple\nconvivial pleasures on his birthday, and other festivals which could\neasily be multiplied. Then the brethren met in solemn form to frame their\nconstitution and commemorate their benefactor, on one of those many\nmonuments which illuminate a social life on which the literature of the\nage is generally silent.\n\nThe continuity and repetition of proved political organisation is a\nnotable characteristic of the great races which have left, or are destined\nto leave, their mark on history. The British settlers on the prairies of\nOregon or Manitoba immediately order themselves into communities, which\nare modelled on a social system as old as the Heptarchy. The Latin race\nhad perhaps an even more stubborn conservatism than the English. Under the\nmost various circumstances, the Roman instinctively clung to forms and\ninstitutions of tested strength and elasticity, and consecrated by the\nimmemorial usage of his race. The most distant and most humble\nmunicipality was fashioned after the pattern of the great \u201ccity which had\nbecome a world.\u201d(1502) It had its senate, the _ordo splendidissimus et\namplissimus_, and the popular assembly which elected the magistrates. The\nmunicipal magistrates, if they do not always bear the ancient names,\nreproduce in shadowy form the dictators, the praetors, the aediles,\nquaestors, and censors of the old republic.(1503) The same continuity of\nform is seen in the colleges. As the municipal town was modelled on the\nconstitution of the State, so we may say that the college was modelled on\nthe municipal town. The college, indeed, became a city for the\nbrotherhood, at once a city and a home. They apply to it such terms as\n_respublica collegii_.(1504) The meetings often took place in a temple,\nwhether of a patron deity or of an emperor, as those of the Roman Senate\nwere held in the temple of Concord or of Bellona. There they elected their\nadministrative officers, generally for a period of one year; in some\ncases, by way of special distinction, for life. The heads of these little\nsocieties bear various names, _magistri_, _curatores_, _quinquennales_,\n_praefecti_, or _praesides_.(1505) They have also quaestors,(1506) who\nmanaged their financial affairs, which, although perhaps on no great\nscale, still involved the investment of trust moneys to yield the\nprescribed amounts which had to be distributed either as burial payments,\nor in food and money on the high festivals. The number of the members was\ngenerally limited, either by the government in the interests of public\norder, or by the will of a benefactor, to prevent the progressive\ndiminution in the value of the divisible shares of the income.(1507) A\nperiodical revision of the roll of members was therefore conducted every\nfive years, as it was in the municipality, by the chief officers,\nexercising for the time censorial powers in miniature. Fortunately the\nalbums of three or four colleges have been preserved. The lists throw a\nvivid light on their constitution and social tone. We have drawn attention\nin a former chapter to the strict gradation of social rank in the city\npolity. The same characteristic is repeated in the collegiate\norganisation. In these humble plebeian coteries, composed of \u201cmen without\na grandfather,\u201d of men, perhaps, whose father was a slave, or of men who\nwere slaves themselves, there emerges, to our astonishment, a punctilious\nobservance of shadowy social distinctions, which is an inheritance from\nthe exclusive aristocratic pride of the old republic. This characteristic\nhas excited in some French critics and historians a certain\nadmiration,(1508) in which it is not altogether easy to join. Gradation of\nrank to ensure devotion and order in public service is a precious and\nadmirable thing. But artificial and unreal distinctions, invented and\nconferred to flatter wealth, to stimulate or reward the largesses of the\nrich patron, to gratify the vulgar self-complacency of the _parvenu_, are\nonly a degrading form of mendicancy. Some indulgence is no doubt due to\nmen who were still under the yoke of slavery, or only just released from\nit; the iron had entered into their souls. But both the college and the\nmunicipality of the Antonine age cannot be relieved of the charge of\npurchased or expectant deference to mere wealth. Hence we cannot\naltogether share the pleasure of M. Boissier in these pale and vulgar\nreproductions of the hierarchy of a real aristocracy. But the image of the\nhierarchy is there, and it is very instructive. In a college of smiths in\nTarraconensis, there were fifteen patrons at the head of the roll,\nfollowed by twelve decurions, including two doctors and a soothsayer, one\nman isolated by the honours of the _bisellium_, two honorary members,\ntwenty-eight plain plebeians. There were also several \u201cmothers\u201d and\n\u201cdaughters\u201d of the society.(1509) The album of another club at Ostia shows\na list of nine patrons, two holders of quinquennial rank, and one hundred\nand twenty-three plebeians.(1510) The plebs of many colleges included\nslaves, and in more than one inscription the men of ingenuous and those of\nservile birth are carefully distinguished, the slaves being sometimes\nplaced at the bottom of the roll.(1511) Yet it was surely a great advance\nwhen slaves and freemen could meet together for the time, on a certain\nfooting of equality, for business or convivial intercourse. The rigid\nlines of old pagan society are indeed still marked on the face of these\nclubs. And yet many an inscription leaves the impression that these little\nsocieties of the old pagan world are nurseries, in an imperfect way, of\nthe gentle charities and brotherliness which, in shy retirement, the young\nChurch was cultivating in her disciples to be the ideal of the world.\n\nThese colleges became homes for the homeless, a little fatherland, or\n_patria_, for those without a country. Sometimes they may have met in low\ntaverns, which were on that account jealously watched by some of the\nemperors.(1512) But they generally attained to the possession of a\nclub-room or _schola_, a name which had been previously given to the\nlounging-room of the public baths. Sometimes the _schola_ was erected at\ntheir own cost, the site being perhaps granted by some rich patron, or by\nthe town council, on a vacant spot close to the basilica or the\ntheatre.(1513) But frequently a hall was built for them by some generous\nfriend. A like generosity often provided for them a little chapel of their\npatron deity, with a shaded court, or a balcony open to the air and sun,\nwhere the brethren took their common meals.(1514) Or a rich patron,\nanxious to secure some care and religious observance of his last\nresting-place, would bequeath to a college a pleasant garden adjoining the\ntomb, with a house in which to hold their meetings.(1515) And, as a\nfurther security against neglect and oblivion, a sum of 10,000 or 15,000\nsesterces would be invested to provide a dinner for the college on their\nbenefactor\u2019s birthday.(1516) As years went on, the scene of many a\npleasant gathering became a centre round which clustered a great deal of\nsentiment, and even pride. We may imagine that, allowing for differences\nof time and faith, the little school or shrine would, in the course of\nyears, attract something of the feeling which consecrates an ancient\nvillage church in England, or a little Bethel which was built in the year\nof the visit of John Wesley. It became a point of honour to make gifts to\nthe schola, to add to its comfort or beauty. One benefactor would redeem a\nright of ancient lights, or build a boundary wall.(1517) Another would\nmake a present of bronze candelabra on a marble stand, with the device of\na Cupid holding baskets in his hands.(1518) Or a college would receive\nfrom its curator a gift of some silver statues of the gods, on the\ndedication of the _schola_, with a brass tablet, no doubt recording the\nevent.(1519) The gift of a place where the brethren of the club might be\nburied beside their wives or concubines, was probably, to these poor\npeople, not the least valued benefaction.(1520) Many a humble donation was\nprobably made, which was too slight for a memorial. But it happens that we\nhave one record of gifts evidently offered by poor, insignificant people.\nIt is contained in a very interesting inscription found upon a rock near\nthe theatre at Philippi in Macedonia.(1521) It records that P. Hostilius\nPhiladelphus, in recognition of the aedileship of the college, which had\nbeen conferred upon him, bore the expense of polishing the rock, and\ninscribing upon it the names of the members of a college of Silvanus,\nsixty-nine in number, together with a list of those who had presented\ngifts to their temple. The college was a religious one, with a priest who\nis named in the first place. It is also a funerary society, and seems to\nbe composed of freedmen and of slaves, either belonging to the colony or\nprivate masters. They had just erected a temple of their patron god, to\nwhich some had given subscriptions in money, while others made various\nofferings for its adornment. One brother presents an image of the god in a\nlittle shrine, another statuettes of Hercules and Mercury. There is\nanother donation of some stone-work in front of the temple, and Hostilius,\nat his own expense, cut away the rock to smooth the approach to the\nshrine. Most of the gifts are of trifling value, a poor little picture\nworth 15 _denarii_, a marble image of Bacchus costing not much more. But\nthey were the offerings of an enthusiastic brotherhood, and the good\nHostilius has given them an immortality of which they never dreamed.\n\nThe contributions of the members would generally have been but a sorry\nprovision for the social and religious life of a college. Reproducing, as\nit did, the constitution and the tone of the city in so many traits, the\ncollege in nothing follows its model so closely as in its reliance on the\ngenerosity of patronage. At the head of the album of the society there is\na list, sometimes disproportionately long, of its _patroni_. Countless\ninscriptions leave us in no doubt as to the reason why the patron was\nelected. His _raison d\u2019\u00eatre_ in the club is the same as in the city; it is\nto provide luxuries or amusements for the society, which the society could\nnot generally obtain for itself. The relation of patron and client is, of\nall the features of ancient life, the one which, being so remote from the\nspirit of our democratic society, is perhaps most difficult for us to\nunderstand. The mutual obligations, enforced by a powerful traditional\nsentiment, were of the most binding, and sometimes burdensome character.\nAnd in that form of relation, between former master and freedman, which\nbecame so common in the first age of the Empire, the old master was bound\nto continue his support and protection to the emancipated slave.(1522)\nAlthough there was much that was sordid and repulsive in the position of\nthe client in Juvenal\u2019s and Martial\u2019s days, we must still recognise the\nfact that the fortune of the rich patron had to pay a heavy price for\nsocial deference. Not less heavy was the demand made on the patrons of\nmunicipalities and colleges.\n\nThere must have been wide distinctions of dignity and importance among the\nindustrial colleges of the Empire. The _centonarii_, the _fabri_, and\n_dendrophori_ of the more important centres, such as Aquileia, Lyons and\nMilan, the boatmen of Arles or Ostia, would probably have looked down with\nscorn on the flute-players of the Via Sacra, the hunters of Corfinium, or\nthe muleteers of the Porta Gallica.(1523) And there was a corresponding\nvariety in the rank of the patrons. Some are high officials of the Empire,\nprocurators of provinces, curators of great public works, or distinguished\nofficers of the legions. Or they are men evidently of high position and\ncommanding influence in their province, priests of the altar of Augustus,\naugurs of the colony, magistrates or decurions of two or three\ncities.(1524) Sometimes the patron is a great merchant, with warehouses of\noil or wine at Lyons or Tarragona or Ostia.(1525) Yet in spite of his\nwealth, the patron\u2019s social position in those days might be rather\nuncertain, and we may without difficulty, from modern analogies, believe\nthat a new man might find his vanity soothed, or his position made less\nobscure, by being known as the titular head of an ancient corporation of\nthe clothworkers, or _dendrophori_, or of the boatmen on the Sa\u00f4ne.\nProbably in obscure country towns, remote from the seat of Empire, these\nbourgeois dignities were even more valued.(1526) The humbler colleges\nwould have to be content with one of the new freedmen, such as the vulgar\nfriends of Trimalchio, who, after a youth of shameful servitude, had leapt\ninto fortune by some happy chance or stroke of shrewdness, and who sought\na compensation for the contempt of the great world in the deference and\nadulation of those who waited for their largesses.\n\nThe election of a patron was an event of great moment, especially to a\npoor college. And it was conducted with a formal preciseness, and an\nassumption of dignity, which, at this distance of time, are sometimes\nrather ludicrous. In a little town of Cisalpine Gaul in the year 190, the\ncollege of smiths and clothworkers met in solemn session in their temple.\nTheir quaestors, who may have had the financial condition of the college\nin view, made a formal proposal that the college should set an example of\nthe judicious reward of merit, by electing one Tutilius Julianus, a man\ndistinguished by his modesty and liberality, as the patron of their\nsociety. The meeting commended the sage proposal of the quaestors, and\nformally resolved that the honourable Julianus should be requested to\naccept the distinction, with an apology for so tardy a recognition of his\nmerits, and that a brass plate, containing a copy of this decree, should\nbe placed above his door.(1527)\n\nIt is significant that the patrons were, in very many cases, Seviri and\nAugustales, a body which in the provinces, as we have seen, was generally\ncomposed of new men of the freedman class. Although they were steadily\nrising in importance and in strength of organisation, the provincial\nAugustales always ranked after the decurions of a town. They often\ndisplayed boundless liberality to their city and to their own order.(1528)\nBut the leading Augustales seem to have been quite as generous to the\nother corporations who placed themselves under their patronage. And they\nwere not unfrequently patrons of several colleges.(1529) It is no long\ntask to find men who were the titular protectors of two or three, of\neight, or even of as many as twelve or fifteen colleges. One inscription\nto Cn. Sentius of Ostia would seem to include among his dependents almost\nevery industrial college in that busy port.(1530) Sentius must have been a\nvery wealthy and a very generous man to accept the patronage of so many\nsocieties, which in those days expected or demanded that their honours\nshould be paid for in solid cash. The crowning distinction of a statue, or\na durable inscription, was often solemnly decreed with all seemly forms of\ndeference or unstinted flattery in a full meeting of the society. But in a\ngreat majority of cases we are amused or disgusted to read that, after all\nhis other liberalities, the benefactor or his heir is permitted to pay for\nthe record of popular gratitude.(1531) This fact may explain the\nextraordinary abundance of these honours, if it somewhat lowers their\nvalue in the eyes of posterity.\n\nBut, besides the benefactions which sprang either from ambition or real\ngenerosity, a vast number were inspired by the Roman passion for long\nremembrance, and for the continuity of funerary ritual. The very position\nof so many tombs by the side of the great roads beyond the city gates, was\na silent appeal to the passing traveller not to forget the departed. The\nappeal is also often expressly made on the stone by those who had no other\nmeans of prolonging their own memory or that of some one they loved. It is\nimpossible to read without some emotion the prayer of an old Spanish\nsoldier, that his brethren of the college may never suffer grief like his,\nif they will only keep the lamp burning for ever over the tomb of his\nchild.(1532) The more opulent took more elaborate measures to provide for\nthe guardianship of their \u201clast home.\u201d(1533) They often attached to the\ntomb a field or gardens of considerable extent, to be cultivated for\nprofit, or to bear the roses for the annual offering. The whole area, the\ndimensions of which, in many inscriptions, are defined with mathematical\nprecision, would be surrounded by a wall. Within the enclosure there would\nbe a little shrine containing statues of the dead, an arbour and a well,\nand a hall in which the kindred of coming generations might hold their\nannual banquet, till the tie was dissolved by the cruel oblivion of\ntime.(1534) There will be a cottage (_taberna_) in which a freedman or\ndependent of the house may be lodged, to watch over the repose of the\ndead.(1535) But all these precautions, as the testator feels, were likely\nto be defeated in the end by the vicissitudes of human fortunes.(1536) He\nhad, indeed, before his eyes the fate of many a forsaken and forgotten\ntomb of old worthies of the Republic. Families die out; faithful freedmen\nand their children cannot keep their watch for ever. The garden will grow\nwild, a time may come when no kindly hand will pour the libation or\nscatter the roses on the natal day. Families will die out, but a college\nmay go on for ever by the perpetual renewal of its members. Inspired with\nthis idea, a worthy of N\u00eemes created a funerary college to dine regularly\nin his honour.(1537) It was to consist of thirty persons, and the number\nwas to be maintained by co-optation into the places of deceased members.\nMembers of the college who were obliged to be absent might send one of\ntheir friends to join in the repast. Thus the dead man, who had taken such\ncare to prolong his memory, would at no distant date be festively\ncelebrated by people who barely knew his name. Many another left a bequest\nto a college to be spent in a feast on the testator\u2019s memorial day.(1538)\nA freedman of Mevania leaves a tiny legacy of HS.1000 to the guild of\nclothworkers, of whom he is patron, with the condition that not less than\ntwelve of their number shall feast once a year in memory of him.(1539) A\nmore liberal provision for convivial enjoyment was left to a college of\nSilvanus in honour of Domitian. It consisted of the rents of four estates,\nwith their appurtenances, which were to be spent on the birthdays of the\nemperor and his wife, \u201cfor all time to come,\u201d with the sacrifices proper\nto such a holy season.(1540) Due provision is often made for the seemly\nand impressive performance of a rite which was at once a religious duty\nand a convivial pleasure. There is a curious letter of the time of\nAntoninus Pius containing a deed of gift to the college of the _fabri_ at\nNarbo, in return for their constant favours to the donor. One Sextus\nFadius presents them with the sum of 16,000 sesterces, the interest of\nwhich is to be divided every year at the end of April for ever, at a\nbanquet on his birthday; the guests on this festive occasion are to be\nhabited in their handsomest attire.(1541)\n\nBut the fullest and minutest arrangements for these modest meals are to be\nfound in the document relating to the foundation of the poor college of\nDiana and Antinous, to which reference has already been made. The master\nof the feast was taken in regular order from the roll of the society. Each\nbrother had to accept this office in his turn, or pay a fine of five\nshillings of our money. The regular festivals of the club were six in the\nyear, on the natal days of Diana and Antinous, and those of the founder\nand some of his relatives. There is some obscurity in the regulations for\nthese common feasts, and at first sight they are a ludicrous contrast to\nthe pontiff\u2019s famous banquet in the days of Julius Caesar, described by\nMacrobius.(1542) M. Boissier naturally refuses to imagine that even the\npoor brethren of the club of Diana and Antinous would be contented with\nbread, four sardines, a bottle of good wine, with hot water and the proper\ntable service. The slave steward of Horace probably found much better fare\nin his _popina_.(1543) Dr. Mommsen has resolved the mystery. It is\nevident, from several inscriptions, that _sportulae_ were sharply\ndistinguished from distributions of bread and wine.(1544) The _sportula_\nwas a gift of richer food or dainties, which in public distributions might\nbe carried home; it was sometimes an equivalent in money. If those who\nreceived the _sportula_ preferred to enjoy it at a common table, an\nappointed member of the college would have the food prepared, or convert\nthe money into dishes for the feast. The bread and wine he might add from\nhis own pocket, if they were not provided by the foundation. How much for\nthese meals came from the club funds, and how much out of the pocket of\nthe _magister coenae_, is not always clearly stated. But we may be sure,\nfrom the tone of the times, that additions to a modest _menu_ were often\nmade by the generosity of patrons and officers of the club.\n\nIt would be futile and uninteresting to pursue into all its minute details\nthroughout the inscriptions, the system of _sportulae_ founded by so many\npatrons and benefactors. Any one who wishes can temperately regale himself\nfor hours at these shadowy club-feasts of the second century. Perhaps the\nclearest example of such distributions is the donation of Marcellina and\nAelius Zeno to the little college of Aesculapius, to which reference has\nbeen made for another purpose.(1545) On seven different anniversaries and\nfestivals, sums of money, with bread and wine, were distributed to the\nbrethren of the college in due proportions, according to their official\ndignity and social rank. Thus, in the division on the 4th of November, the\nf\u00eate-day of the society, the shares in money, according to the various\ngrades, from the father of the college downwards, are six, four, and two.\nThe division of the wine, according to social rank, follows the proportion\nof nine, six, and three. A slightly different scale is followed on the\nbirthday of the Emperor Antoninus Pius in September, and on the day for\nNew Year\u2019s gifts in January. But in these benefactions the difference of\ngrade is always observed, the patron and the chief magistrates and\nmagnates of the society always receiving a larger share than the obscure\nbrethren at the bottom of the list. In the college of Aesculapius,\nMarcellina herself, and Aelius Zeno, the two great benefactors of the\nsociety, along with the highest of its dignitaries, are allotted three\ntimes as much as the plebeian brother. The excellent Marcellina, who, in\nthe fourth century might perhaps have followed S. Jerome and Paula to\nBethlehem, was the widow of a good and tender husband, who had been\ncurator of the imperial picture galleries.(1546) Had she been drawn into\nthe ranks of that hidden society, who were beginning to lay their dead in\nthe winding vaults beneath the Appian Way, she would certainly have dealt\nout her bounty on a different scale and on different principles. Her\nbequest to the college of Aesculapius reveals how deep in the soul of a\ncharitable pagan woman, who was probably sprung from servile stock, lay\nthat aristocratic instinct of the Roman world which survived the advent of\nthe Divine Peasant and the preaching of the fishermen of Galilee, for far\nmore than four hundred years.\n\nThe most curious and interesting among the regulations for these club\nentertainments are those relating to order and decorum. The club of Diana\nand Antinous was not very select, being probably composed of poor freedmen\nand slaves.(1547) The manners of this class, if we may judge by the\npicture given by Petronius, were, to say the least, wanting in reserve and\nself-restraint. The great object of such reunions was, as the founder\ntells us, that the brethren might dine together cheerfully and\nquietly.(1548) Hence he most wisely orders that all serious proposals and\ncomplaints shall be reserved for business meetings. If any member quits\nhis place or makes a disturbance, he is to pay a fine of four sesterces.\nTwelve sesterces is the penalty for insulting a fellow-guest. The man who,\nunder the influence of good wine, so far forgot himself as to insult the\nchief officer of the society, was to be punished by a forfeit of twenty\nsesterces, which would probably be a powerful discouragement of bad\nmanners to most of the brotherhood of Antinous.\n\nMany another gift or bequest, of the same character as Marcellina\u2019s, meets\nthe eye of the student of the inscriptions The motives are singularly\nuniform\u2014to repay the honours conferred by a college, to celebrate the\ndedication of a statue, to save from forgetfulness a name which to us is\nonly a bit of the wreckage of time. Everything is conventional about these\nbequests. The money is nearly always left for the same purpose, an\nanniversary repast in honour of the humble dead, of the emperor, or of the\npatron gods. Sometimes the burial fee is refunded to the college, with the\nprayer that on the natal day the poor pittance derived from the gift be\nspent on pious rites, with roses strewn upon the grave.(1549) Another will\nbeg only that the lamp in the humble vault may be kept for ever burning.\nThese pieties and longings, which have their roots in a rude pagan past\nbefore the dawn of history, were destined to prolong their existence far\ninto Christian times. The lamp will be kept burning over many a tomb of\nsaint or martyr in the fourth or fifth century. And the simple feasts\nwhich the clothworkers of Brescia, or the boatmen of Ostia or Lyons,\nobserved to do honour to some departed patron, will be celebrated, often\nin riotous fashion, over the Christian dead in the days of S. Augustine\nand S. Paulinus of Nola.(1550)\n\nDr. Mommsen believes that the collegiate life which blossomed forth so\nluxuriantly in the early Empire, was modelled on the sacred union of the\nRoman family.(1551) And the instinct of the Roman nature for continuity in\ninstitutions prepossesses us in favour of the theory. In the college\nendowed by Marcellina and Zeno, there are a father and a mother, and\nelsewhere we read of daughters of a college. The members sometimes call\nthemselves brethren and sisters.(1552) One of the feasts of the\nbrotherhood is on the day sacred to \u201cdear kinship,\u201d when relations\ngathered round a common table, to forget in kindly intercourse any\ndisturbance of affection.(1553) They also met in the early days of\nJanuary, when presents were exchanged. Above all, like the primal society,\nthey gathered on the birthdays of the revered dead to whom they owed duty\nand remembrance. And in many cases the members of the society reposed\nbeside one another in death.(1554) The college was a home of fraternal\nequality in one sense. As M. Boissier has pointed out, the members had\nequal rights in the full assembly of the club. A quorum was needed to pass\ndecrees and to elect the officers. And, in the full conclave, the slave\nmember had an equal voice with the freeman, and might, perchance, himself\neven be elected to a place of dignity.(1555) He might thus, in a very\nhumble realm, wield authority for the time over those who were accustomed\nto despise him. It is true that he needed his master\u2019s leave to join a\ncollege, and his master had the legal power to deny to him the last boon\nof burial by the hands of his collegiate brethren.(1556) Yet it was\nundoubtedly a great stride in advance when a slave could sit at table or\nin council on equal terms with free-born men, and might receive pious\nRoman burial, instead of being tossed like a piece of carrion into a\nnameless grave. The society of one of these humble colleges must have\noften for the moment relieved the weariness and misery of the servile\nlife, and awakened, or kept alive, some sense of self-respect and dignity.\nThe slave may have now and then felt himself even on the edge of political\ninfluence, as when his college placarded its sympathies in an election\ncontest on the walls of Pompeii. Yet we must not allow ourselves to be\ndeceived by words and appearances. In spite of legislative reform, in\nspite of a growing humane sentiment, whether in the Porch or the Christian\nChurch, the lot of the slave and of the poor plebeian will be in many\nrespects as hopeless and degraded in the reign of Honorius as it was in\nthe reign of Trajan.(1557) Even in the reign of Trajan, it is true,\nperhaps even in the reign of Nero, there were great houses like the\nyounger Pliny\u2019s, where the slaves were treated as humble friends, where\ntheir weddings were honoured by the presence of the master, where, in\nspite of legal disabilities, they were allowed to dispose of their savings\nby will.(1558) And the inscriptions record the gratitude and affection to\ntheir masters and mistresses of many who were in actual slavery, or who\nhad but just emerged from it. But these instances cannot make us forget\nthe cruel contempt and barbarity of which the slave was still the victim,\nand which was to be his lot for many generations yet to run. And therefore\nthe improvement in the condition of the slave or of his poor plebeian\nbrother by the theoretical equality in the colleges, may be easily\nexaggerated. In the humblest of these clubs, the distribution of good fare\nand money is not according to the needs of the members, but regulated by\ntheir social and official rank. We cannot feel confident that in social\nintercourse the same distinction may not have been coldly observed. In\nmodern times we often see a readiness to accord an equality of material\nenjoyment, along with a stiff guardianship of social distinctions which\nare often microscopic to the detached observer. And it would not be\nsurprising to discover that the \u201cmaster\u201d or the \u201cmother\u201d of the college of\nAntinous protected their dignity by an icy reserve at its festive\nmeetings.\n\nThe question has been raised whether the ordinary colleges were in any\nsense charitable institutions for mutual help. And certainly the\ninscriptions are singularly wanting in records of bequests made directly\nfor the relief of poverty, for widows and orphans or the sick. The\ndonations or bequests of rich patrons seem to have had chiefly two objects\nin view, the commemoration of the dead and the provision for social and\nconvivial enjoyment. It is true that, just as in municipal feasts, there\nis often a distribution of money among the members of colleges. But this\nappears to be deprived of an eleemosynary character by the fact that by\nfar the largest shares are assigned to those who were presumably the least\nin need of them. Yet it is to be recollected that we probably have left to\nus the memorial of only a small proportion of these gifts, and that, if we\nhad a full list of all the benefactions bequeathed to some of the\ncolleges, the total amount received by each member in the year might be\nvery considerable, if judged by the standard of ordinary plebeian incomes.\nTo the ambitious slave any addition, however small, to his growing\n_peculium_, which might enable him to buy his freedom, would certainly be\ngrateful.\n\nThere is one class of colleges, however, which were undoubtedly formed to\nmeet various exigencies in the course of life, as well as to make a\nprovision for decent burial. These are the military clubs, on the objects\nand constitution of which a flood of light has been thrown by the study of\nthe inscriptions in the great legionary camps of North Africa.(1559) A\npassage of Vegetius shows us the provident arrangement made by government\nfor the future of the ordinary legionary.(1560) It is well known that, on\nthe accession of each new emperor, or on the occurrence of some\ninteresting event in the history of the prince\u2019s family, or of some great\nmilitary success, and often without any particular justification, a\ndonative was distributed throughout the army. It sometimes reached a\nconsiderable amount, ranging from the 25 _denarii_ granted by Vespasian,\nto the 5000 of M. Aurelius.(1561) One half of this largess was by orders\nset aside, and retained under the custody of the standard-bearers, to\nprovide a pension on the soldier\u2019s retirement from the service. Another\nfund, entirely different, was formed by the soldiers\u2019 own contributions,\nto furnish a decent burial for those who died on service. But the law\nagainst the formation of colleges fell with peculiar severity on the\nsoldier.(1562) Not even for a religious purpose was he permitted to join\nsuch a society. This prohibition, however, seems to have been relaxed in\nthe case of the officers, and some of the more highly skilled corps.(1563)\nAnd we have among the inscriptions of Lambaesis a few instructive records\nof these military colleges.(1564)\n\nLambaesis, as we have seen, was one of those camps which developed into a\nregular municipality, after the recognition of soldiers\u2019 marriages by\nSeptimius Severus. Henceforth the camp became only a place of drill and\nexercise, and ceased to be the soldier\u2019s home. And on the ground where the\nsoldiers\u2019 huts used to stand, there are left the remains of a number of\nbuildings of the basilica shape, erected probably in the third century,\nwhich were the club-houses of the officers of the Tertia Augusta. The\ninterior was adorned with statues of imperial personages, and on the wall\nwas inscribed the law of the college, commencing with an expression of\ngratitude for the very liberal pay which enabled the college to make\nprovision for the future of its members.(1565) The provision was made in\nvarious ways. An ambitious young officer was allowed a liberal viaticum\nfor a journey across the sea to seek promotion. If promotion came, he\nreceived another grant to equip him. One half the amount granted in these\ncases was mercifully paid to him in the unpleasant contingency of his\nlosing his grade. If he died on active service, his heir received a\npayment on the larger scale. And, when a man, in due course, retired from\nthe army, he received the same sum under the name of _anularium_, which\nhas puzzled the antiquary.(1566)\n\nIt has been maintained that these military clubs were really and primarily\nfunerary societies.(1567) And provision for burial was certainly one of\ntheir objects. Yet, on a reading of the law of the society of the\n_Cornicines_, it may be doubted whether the subject of burial is more\nprominent than the other contingencies of the officer\u2019s life, and in some\nof the inscriptions, burial is not even alluded to. The grant on\nretirement or promotion, and the grant to his heir on the death of a\nmember, are the same. But probably the majority of officers had the good\nfortune to carry the money with them into peaceful retirement, if not into\nhigher rank in another corps. In this case they would probably join\nanother college, whether of soldiers or veterans, and secure once more the\nall-important object of a decent and pious interment. The military clubs\nseem rather intended to furnish an insurance against the principal risks\nand occasions of expenditure in a soldier\u2019s career. A calculation shows\nthat, after providing for all these liabilities, the military college must\nhave had a considerable surplus.(1568) How it was spent, it is not\nhazardous to conjecture. If the poor freedmen and slaves at Ostia or\nLanuvium could afford their modest meals, with a fair allowance of good\nwine, drunk to the memory of a generous benefactor, we may be sure that\nthe college of the _Cornicines_ at Lambesi would relieve the tedium of the\ncamp by many a pleasant mess dinner, and that they would have been\nastonished and amused on such occasions to hear themselves described\nmerely as a burial society.\n\nThe foundation law of the college of Diana and Antinous betrays some\nanxiety lest the continuity of the society should be broken. And in many a\nbequest, the greatest care is taken to prevent malversation or the\ndiversion of the funds from their original purpose.(1569) We feel a\ncertain pathetic curiosity, in reading these records of a futile effort to\nprolong the memory of obscure lives, to know how long the brotherhoods\ncontinued their meetings, or when the stated offerings of wine and flowers\nceased to be made. In one case the curiosity is satisfied and we have\nbefore our eyes the formal record of the extinction of a college. It is\ncontained in a pair of wooden tablets found in some quarry pits near\nAlburnus, a remote village of Dacia. The document was drawn up, as the\nnames of the consuls show, in the year 167, the year following the fierce\nirruption of the Quadi and Marcomanni into Dacia, Pannonia, and Noricum,\nin which Alburnus was given to the flames.(1570) Artemidorus the slave of\nApollonius, and Master of the college of Jupiter Cernenius, along with the\ntwo quaestors, places it on record, with the attestation of seven\nwitnesses, that the college has ceased to exist. Out of a membership of\nfifty-four, only seventeen remain. The colleague of Artemidorus in the\nmastership has never set foot in Alburnus since his election. The accounts\nhave been wound up, and no balance is left in the chest. For a long time\nno member has attended on the days fixed for meetings, and, as a matter of\ncourse, no subscriptions have been paid. All this is expressed in the\nrudest, most ungrammatical Latin, and Artemidorus quaintly concludes by\nsaying, that, if a member has just died, he must not imagine that he has\nany longer a college or any claim to funeral payments! The humble brothers\nof the society, whom Artemidorus reproaches for their faithless\nnegligence, may probably have fled to some refuge when their masters\u2019\nlands were devastated by the Marcomanni, or been swept on in the fierce\ntorrent of invaders which finally broke upon the walls of Aquileia.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                BOOK III.\n\n\n      _NEC PHILOSOPHIA SINE VIRTUTE EST NEC SINE PHILOSOPHIA VIRTUS_\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAPTER I\n\n\n                         THE PHILOSOPHIC DIRECTOR\n\n\nPhilosophy in the time of Seneca was a very different thing from the great\ncosmic systems of Ionia and Magna Graecia, or even from the system of the\nolder Stoicism. Speculative interest had long before his time given way to\nthe study of moral problems with a definite practical aim. If the stimulus\nof the searching method of Socrates gave an impetus for a century to\nabstract speculation, it had an even more decided and long-lived influence\nin diverting thought to moral questions from the old ambitious paths. His\ndisciples Antisthenes and Aristippus prepared the way for the Stoic and\nEpicurean schools which dominated the Roman world in the last century of\nthe Republic and the first of the Empire. And even Plato and Aristotle\nindirectly helped forward the movement. It is not merely that, for both\nthese great spirits, the cultivation of character and the reform of\nsociety have a profound interest. But even in their metaphysics, they were\npaving the way for the more introspective and practical turn which was\ntaken by post-Aristotelian philosophy, by giving to what were mere\nconceptions of the mind a more real existence than to the things of\nsense.(1571) The \u201cideas\u201d or \u201cforms\u201d which they contrast with the world of\nconcrete things, are really creations of the individual mind of which the\nreality must be sought in the depths of consciousness, however they may be\ndivinised and elevated to some transcendental region beyond the limits of\nsense and time. With Aristotle, as with Plato, in the last resort, the\nhigher reason is the true essence of man, coming into the body from a\ndiviner world, and capable of lifting itself to the ideal from the\ncramping limitations of sensuous life. The philosopher in the _Phaedo_ who\nturns his gaze persistently from the confusing phantasmagoria of the\nsenses to that realm of real existence, eternal and immutable, of which he\nhas once had a vision, is really the distant progenitor of the sage of\nStoicism, who cuts himself off from the external objects of desire, to\nfind within a higher law, and the peace which springs from a life in\nharmony with the Reason of the world.\n\nThe ancient schools, if they maintained a formal individuality even to the\ndays of Justinian,(1572) had worked themselves out. A host of scholarchs,\nfrom all the cities of the Greek East, failed to break fresh ground, and\nwere content to guard the most precious or the least vulnerable parts of\nan ancient tradition. Moreover, the scrutiny of the long course of\nspeculation, issuing in such various conclusions, with no criterion to\ndecide between their claims, gave birth to a scepticism which sheltered\nitself even under the great name of the Academy. And as the faith in the\ntruth of systems dwindled, the marks of demarcation between them faded;\nmen were less inclined to dogmatise, and began to select and combine\nelements from long discordant schools. In this movement the eclectic and\nthe sceptic had very much the same object in view\u2014the support and culture\nof the individual moral life.(1573) The sceptic sought his ideal in\nrestrained suspense of judgment and in moral calm. The eclectic, without\nregard to speculative consistency, and with only a secondary interest in\nspeculation, sought for doctrines from any quarter which provided a basis\nfor the moral life, and, in the conflict of systems on the deeper\nquestions, would fall back, like Cicero, on intuition and the consent of\nconsciousness.(1574) Creative power in philosophy was no more. Speculative\ncuriosity, as pictured in the _Phaedo_ or the _Theaetetus_, had lost its\nkeenness. The imperious craving was for some guide of life, some medicine\nfor the deeply-felt maladies of the soul.\n\nThe extinction of the free civic life of Greece, the conquests of Macedon,\nthe foundation of the world-wide empire of Rome, had wrought a momentous\nmoral change. In the old city-state, religion, morals, and political duty\nwere linked in a gracious unity and harmony. The citizen drew moral\nsupport and inspiration from ancestral laws and institutions clothed with\nalmost divine authority. Even Plato does not break away from the old\ntrammels, but requires the elders of his Utopia as a duty, after they have\nseen the vision of God, to descend again to the ordinary tasks of\ngovernment. But when the corporate life which supplied such vivid\ninterests and moral support was wrecked, the individual was thrown back\nupon himself. Morals were finally separated from politics. Henceforth the\ngreat problem of philosophy was how to make character self-sufficing and\nindependent; how to find the beatitude of man in the autonomous will,\nfenced against all assaults of chance and change.(1575) At the same time,\nthe foundation of great monarchies, Macedonian or Roman, embracing many\ntribes and races and submerging old civic or national barriers, brought\ninto clearer light the idea of a universal commonwealth, and placed morals\non the broad foundation of a common human nature and universal\nbrotherhood. The mundane city of old days, which absorbed, perhaps too\ncompletely, the moral life and conscience of her sons, has vanished for\never. And in its place and over its ruins has risen an all-embracing power\nwhich seems to have all the sweep of an impersonal force of nature, though\nit is sometimes impelled by one wild, lawless will. If, in return for the\nloss of civic freedom, ambitious and patriotic energy, or pride of civic\nlife, it has given to its subjects a marvellous peace and order and\nculture, have not the mass of men become grosser and more materialised? If\nthere is greater material well-being and better administration, have not\nthe moral tone and ideal, in the lack of stimulus, been lowered? Has not\nvice become more shameless, and the greed for all things pleasant grown\nharder and more cruel? Are not the mass of men hopelessly and wearily\nwandering in a tangled maze without a clue?(1576)\n\nWith such questionings ringing in his inner ear, the man with some\nlingering instinct of goodness might well crave, beyond anything else, for\nan inner law of life which should bring order into the chaos of his\nconduct and desires.(1577) And philosophy, having in magnificent effort\nfailed to scale the virgin heights, fell back on conduct, which seemed\nthen, even more than to a lost teacher of our youth, \u201cthree-fourths of\nlife.\u201d The great science which, in the glory and fresh vigour of the\nHellenic prime, aspired to embrace all existence and all knowledge, to\npenetrate the secret of the universe and God, by general consent narrowed\nits efforts to relieve the struggles of this transient life set \u201cbetween\ntwo eternities.\u201d The human spirit, weary of the fruitless quest of an\never-vanishing ideal of knowledge, took up the humbler task of solving the\never-recurring problem of human happiness and conduct. Henceforth, in\nspite of traditional dialectic discordance, all the schools, Stoic or\nEpicurean, Sceptic or Eclectic, are seeking for the secret of inner peace,\nand are singularly unanimous in their report of the discovery.(1578) The\ninner life of the spirit becomes all in all. Speculation and political\nactivity are equally unimportant to the true life of the soul. Calm\nequipoise of the inner nature, undisturbed by the changes of fortunes or\nthe solicitations of desire, is the ideal of all, under whatever\ndifference of phrase. What has he to do with any single state who realises\nhis citizenship in the great commonwealth of man? If the secret of peace\ncannot be won by launching in adventurous thought into the Infinite,\nperchance it may be found in discipline of the rebellious will.\nPhilosophy, then, must become the guide of life, the healer of spiritual\nmaladies.(1579) It must teach the whole duty of man, to the gods, to the\nstate, to parents and elders, to women and to slaves. It must attempt the\nharder task of bringing some principle of order into the turmoil of\nemotion and passion: it must teach us, amid the keen claims of competing\nobjects of desire, to distinguish the true from the false, the permanent\nfrom the fleeting.\n\nThe moral reformer cannot indeed dispense with theory and a ground of\ngeneral principles,(1580) but he will not forget that his main business is\nto impart the _ars vivendi_; he will be more occupied with rules which may\nbe immediately applied in practice, than with the theory of morals. A\nprofound acquaintance with the pathology of the soul, minute study of the\nweaknesses of character, long experience of the devices for counteracting\nthem, will be worth far more than an encyclop\u00e6dic knowledge of centuries\nof speculation.(1581) He will not undervalue the moral discourse, with the\npractical object of turning souls from their evil ways; but he has only\ncontempt for the rhetoric of the class-room which desecrates solemn themes\nby the vanities of phrase-making.(1582) The best and most fruitful work of\npractical philosophy is done by private counsel, adapted to the special\nneeds of the spiritual patient. He must be encouraged to make a full\nconfession of the diseases of his soul.(1583) He must be trained in daily\nself-examination, to observe any signs of moral growth or of backsliding.\nHe must be checked when over confident, and cheered in discouragement. He\nmust have his enthusiasm kindled by appropriate examples of those who have\ntrodden the same path and reached the heights.(1584)\n\nThis serious aim of philosophy commended itself to the intensely practical\nand strenuous spirit of the Romans. And although there were plenty of\nshowy lecturers or preachers in the first century who could draw\nfashionable audiences, the private philosophic director was a far more\nreal power. The triumph of Aemilius Paulus brought numbers of Greek exiles\nto Italy, many of whom found a home as teachers in Roman families.(1585)\nPanaetius, who revolutionised Stoicism, and made it a working system,\nprofoundly influenced the circle of Scipio Aemilianus, in whose house he\nlived. Great generals and leaders of the last age of the Republic, a\nLucullus or a Pompey, often carried philosophers in their train. From\nAugustus to Elagabalus we hear of their presence at the imperial court.\nThe wife of Augustus sought consolation on the death of Drusus from Areus,\nher husband\u2019s philosophic director.(1586) Many of these men indeed did not\ntake their profession very seriously, and in too many cases they were mere\nflatterers and parasites whom the rich patron hired from ostentation and\ntreated with contumely.(1587) Both Nero and Hadrian used to amuse\nthemselves with the quarrels and vanity of their philosophers.(1588) But\nin the terror of the Claudian Caesars, the Stoic director is often seen\nperforming his proper part. Julius Canus, when ordered to execution by\nCaligula, had his philosopher by his side, with whom he discussed till the\nlast fatal moment the future of the soul.(1589) The officer who brought\nthe sentence of death to Thrasea found him absorbed in conversation with\nthe Cynic Demetrius on the mystery which the lancet was in a few moments\nto resolve.(1590)\n\nOf this great movement to cultivate a moral life in paganism L. Annaeus\nSeneca was not the least illustrious representative. Musonius, his younger\ncontemporary, and Epictetus, the pupil of Musonius, were engaged in the\nsame cure of souls, and taught practically the same philosophic gospel.\nThey equally paid but slight attention to the logic and physics of the\nolder schools.(1591) Virtue, to all of them, is the one great end of\nphilosophic effort. They were all deeply impressed by the spiritual wants\nof the time,(1592) and they all felt that men needed not subtleties of\ndisquisition or rhetorical display, but direct, personal teaching which\nappealed to the conscience. To all of them the philosopher is a physician\nof souls. Musonius and Epictetus were probably loftier and more blameless\ncharacters than Seneca. Epictetus especially, from the range and simple\nattractiveness of his teaching, might seem to many a better representative\nof the philosophic director than Seneca. Seneca, as the wealthy minister\nof Nero, excites a repugnance in some minds, which prevents them doing\njustice to his unquestionable power and fascination. His apparent\ninconsistency has condemned him in the eyes of an age which professes to\nbelieve in the teaching of the Mount, and idolises grandiose wealth and\npower. His rhetoric offends a taste that can tolerate and applaud verbose\nbanalities, with little trace of redeeming art. He cannot always win the\nhearing accorded to the repentant sinner, whose dark experience may make\nhis message more real and pungent. The historian, however, must put aside\nthese rather pharisaic prejudices, and give Seneca the position as a moral\nteacher which his writings have won in ages not less earnest than ours.\nNor need we fear to recognise a power which led the early Fathers to trace\nthe spiritual vision of Seneca to an intercourse with S. Paul,(1593)\nsupported by a feigned correspondence which imposed on S. Augustine and S.\nJerome.(1594) The man who approaches Seneca thinking only of scandals\ngleaned from Tacitus and Dion Cassius,(1595) and frozen by a criticism\nwhich cannot feel the power of genius, spiritual imagination, and a\nprofound moral experience, behind a rhetoric sometimes forced and\nextravagant, had better leave him alone. The Christianity of the twentieth\ncentury might well hail with delight the advent of such a preacher, and\nwould certainly forget all the accusations of prurient gossip in the\naccession of an immense and fascinating spiritual force. The man with any\nhistorical imagination must be struck with amazement that such spiritual\ndetachment, such lofty moral ideals, so pure an enthusiasm for the\nsalvation of souls, should emerge from a palace reeking with all the\ncrimes of the haunted races of Greek legend. That the courtier of the\nreigns of Caligula and Claudius, the tutor and minister of Nero, should\nnot have escaped some stains may be probable: that such a man should have\ncomposed the Letters and the _De Ira_ of Seneca is almost a miracle. Yet\nthe glow of earnestness and conviction, the intimate knowledge of the last\nsecrets of guilty souls, may well have been the reward of such an ordeal.\n\nSeneca\u2019s career, given a latent fund of moral enthusiasm, was really a\nsplendid preparation for his mission, as an analyst of a corrupt society\nand a guide to moral reform. He lived through the gloomiest years of the\nimperial tyranny; he had been in the thick of its intrigues, and privy to\nits darkest secrets; he had enjoyed its favour, and knew the perils of its\njealousy and suspicion. He came as an infant from Cordova to Rome in the\nlast years of Augustus.(1596) In spite of weak health, he was an ardent\nstudent of all the science and philosophy of the time, and he fell under\nthe influence of Sotion, a member of the Sextian School, which combined a\nrigorous Stoicism with Pythagorean rules of life.(1597) As a young\nadvocate and prosperous official, he passed unharmed through the terror\nand ghastly rumours of the closing years of Tiberius.(1598) His eloquence\nin the Senate excited the jealousy of Caligula, and he narrowly escaped\nthe penalty.(1599) In the reign of Claudius he must have been one of the\ninner circle of the court, for his banishment, at the instance of\nMessalina, for eight years to Corsica was the penalty of a supposed\nintrigue with Julia, the niece of the emperor.(1600) Seneca knew how to\nbend to the storm, and, by the influence of Agrippina, he was recalled to\nbe the tutor of the young Nero, and on his accession four years\nafterwards, became his first minister by the side of Burrus.(1601) The\nfamous _quinquennium_, an oasis in the desert of despotism, was probably\nthe happiest period of Seneca\u2019s life. In spite of some misgivings, the\ndream of an earthly Providence, as merciful as it was strong, seemed to be\nrealised.(1602) But it was, after all, a giddy and anxious elevation, and\nthe influence of Seneca was only maintained by politic concessions, and\nwas constantly threatened by the daemonic ambition of Agrippina.(1603) And\nSeneca had enemies like P. Suillius, jealous of his power and his\nmillions, and eagerly pointing to the hypocrisy of the Stoic preacher,\nwhom gossip branded as an adulterer and a usurer.(1604) The death of\nBurrus gave the last shock to his power.(1605) His enemies poured in to\nthe assault. The emperor had long wished to shake off the incubus of a\nsuperior spirit; and the riches, the pointed eloquence, and more pointed\nsarcasms, the gardens and villas and lordly state of the great minister,\nsuggested a possible aspirant to the principate. Seneca acted on his\nprinciples and offered to give up everything.(1606) But his torture was to\nbe prolonged, and his doom deferred for about two years. His release came\nin the fierce vengeance for the Pisonian conspiracy.(1607)\n\nSeneca was an ideal director for the upper class of such an age. He had\nrisen to the highest office in a world-wide monarchy, and he had spent\nyears in hourly fear of death. He had enjoyed the society of the most\nbrilliant circles, and exchanged epigrams and repartees with the best; he\nhad also seen them steeped in debauchery and treachery, and\nterror-stricken in base compliance. He had witnessed their fantastic\nefforts of luxury and self-indulgence, and heard the tale of wearied\nsensualism and disordered ambition and ineffectual lives.(1608) His\ndisciples were drawn, if not from the noblest class, at any rate from the\nclass which had felt the disillusionment of wealth and fashion and power.\nAnd the vicissitudes in his own fate and character made him a powerful and\nsympathetic adviser. He had long to endure the torturing contrast of\nsplendid rank and wealth, with the brooding terror of a doom which might\nsweep down at any moment. He was also tortured by other contrasts, some\ndrawn by the fierceness of envious hatred, others perhaps acknowledged by\nconscience. Steeped in the doctrines of Chrysippus and Pythagoras, he had\nsubdued the ebullient passions of youth by a more than monastic\nasceticism.(1609) He had passionately adopted an ethical creed which aimed\nat a radical reform of human nature, at the triumph of cultivated and\nmoralised reason and social sympathy over the brutal materialism and\nselfishness of the age. He had pondered on its doctrines of the higher\nlife, of the nothingness of the things of sense, on death, and the\nindwelling God assisting the struggling soul, on the final happy release\nfrom all the sordid misery and terror, until every earthly pleasure and\nambition faded away in the presence of a glorious moral ideal.(1610) And\nyet this pagan monk, this idealist, who would have been at home with S.\nJerome or Thomas \u00e0 Kempis, had accumulated a vast fortune, and lived in a\npalace which excited the envy of a Nero. He was suspected of having been\nthe lover of two princesses of the imperial house.(1611) He was charged\nwith having connived at, or encouraged the excesses of Nero, and even of\nhaving been an accomplice in the murder of Agrippina, or its\napologist.(1612) Some of these rumours are probably false, the work of\nprurient imaginations in the most abandoned age in history. Yet there are\ntraces in Seneca\u2019s writings that he had not passed unscathed through the\nterrible ordeal to which character was exposed in that age. There are\npictures of voluptuous ease and jaded satiety which may be the work of a\nkeen sympathetic observation, but which may also be the expression of\nrepentant memory.(1613) In any case, he had sounded the very depths of the\nmoral abysses of his time. He had no illusions about the actual condition\nof human nature. The mass of men, all but a few naturally saintly souls,\nwere abandoned to lust or greed or selfish ambition. Human life was an\nobscene and cruel struggle of wild beasts for the doles flung by fortune\ninto the arena.(1614) The peace and happiness of the early Eden have\ndeparted for ever, leaving men to the restlessness of exhausted appetite,\nor to the half-repentant sense of impotent lives, spent in pursuing the\nphantoms of imaginary pleasure, with broken glimpses now and then of a\nworld for ever lost.(1615) With such a scene about him in his declining\nyears, whatever his own practice may have been, Seneca came to feel an\nevangelistic passion, almost approaching S. Paul\u2019s, to open to these sick\nperishing souls the vision of a higher life through the practical\ndiscipline of philosophy.\n\nThe tendency to regard the true function of philosophy as purely ethical,\nreforming, guiding and sustaining character and conduct, finds its most\nemphatic expression in Seneca. He is far more a preacher, a spiritual\ndirector, than a thinker, and he would have proudly owned it. His highest,\nnay, one may almost say his only aim, is, in our modern phrase, to which\nhis own sometimes approaches, to save souls. Philosophy in its highest and\nbest sense is not the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake, nor the\ndisinterested play of intellect, regardless of intellectual consequences,\nas in a Platonic dialogue.(1616) It is pre-eminently the science or the\nart of right living, that is of a life conformed to right reason.(1617)\nIts great end is the production of the _sapiens_, the man who sees, in the\nlight of Eternal Reason, the true proportions of things, whose affections\nhave been trained to obey the higher law, whose will has hardened into an\nunswerving conformity to it, in all the difficulties of conduct.(1618) And\nthe true philosopher is no longer the cold, detached student of\nintellectual problems, far removed from the struggles and the miseries of\nhuman life. He has become the _generis humani paedagogus_,(1619) the\nschoolmaster to bring men to the Ideal Man. In comparison with that\nmission, all the sublimity or subtlety of the great masters of dialectic\nbecomes mere contemptible trifling, as if a man should lose himself in\nsome game, or in the rapture of sweet music, with a great conflagration\nraging before his eyes. In the universal moral shipwreck, how can one toy\nwith these old world trifles, while the perishing are stretching out their\nhands for help?(1620) Not that Seneca despises the inheritance of ancient\nwisdom, so far as it has any gospel for humanity.(1621) He will accept\ngood moral teaching from any quarter, from Plato or Epicurus, as readily\nas from Chrysippus or Panaetius.(1622) He is ready to give almost divine\nhonours to the great teachers of the human race. But he also feels that no\nmoral teaching can be final. After a thousand ages, there will still be\nroom for making some addition to the message of the past. There will\nalways be a need for fresh adjustments and applications of the remedies\nwhich past wisdom has handed down.(1623)\n\nIt is almost needless to say that Seneca has almost a contempt for the\nso-called liberal studies of his day.(1624) There is only one truly\nliberal study, that which aims at liberating the will from the bondage of\ndesire. Granted that it is necessary as a mental discipline to submit to\nthe grammarian in youth; yet experience shows that this training does\nnothing to form the virtuous character.(1625) Who can respect a man who\nwastes his mature years, like Didymus, in inquiries as to the relative\nages of Hecuba or Helen, or the name of the mother of Aeneas, or the\ncharacter of Anacreon or Sappho?(1626) The man of serious purpose will\nrather try to forget these trifles than continue the study of them. And\nSeneca treats in the same fashion the hair-splitting and verbal subtleties\nof some of the older Stoics. He acquiesces indeed, in their threefold\ndivision of Philosophy into Logic, Physics, and Ethics; but for the first\ndepartment he seems to have but scant respect, though once or twice he\namuses his pupil Lucilius by a disquisition on Genus and Species, or the\nPlatonic and Aristotelian \u201cCauses,\u201d in the style of the Stoic\nscholasticism.(1627) Seneca was writing for posterity; he has his\nintellectual vanity; and he probably wished to show that, while he set but\nlittle store by such studies, this was not due to an imperfect knowledge\nof them. It is because life is too short, and its great problems are too\nurgent, to permit a serious man to spend his precious years in fruitless\nintellectual play. He calls on Lucilius to leave such barren subtleties,\nwhich bring the greatest of all themes down to the level of intellectual\njugglery.(1628)\n\nFor the department of Physics Seneca has much more respect, and he\nevidently devoted much attention to it. We have traces of some lost works\nof his on scientific subjects, and there is still extant a treatise in\nseven books on _Natural Questions_, which became a handbook of science in\nthe Middle Ages.(1629) It deals with such subjects as we meet with in the\npoem of Lucretius, thunder and lightning, winds and earthquakes, and\nrising and failing springs. But it has perhaps less of the scientific\nspirit than Lucretius, according to our modern standards. We have abundant\nreference to old physical authorities, to Thales, Anaximenes, Anaximander,\nDiogenes of Apollonia, to Caecina and Attalus. But the conception of any\nscientific method beyond more or less ingenious hypothesis, or of any\nscientific verification of hypothesis, is utterly absent. This is of\ncourse a general characteristic of most of the scientific effort of\nantiquity. The truth is that, although Seneca probably had some interest\nin natural phenomena, he had a far more profound interest in human nature\nand human destiny. The older Stoics, with some variations, subordinated\nPhysics to Ethics, as of inferior and only subsidiary importance.(1630)\nSeneca carries this subordination almost to extremes, although he also is\nsometimes inconsistent.(1631) He thinks it significant that while the\nWorld-Spirit has hidden gold, the great tempter and corruptor, far beneath\nour feet, it has displayed, in mysterious yet pompous splendour, in the\nazure canopy above us, the heavenly orbs which are popularly believed to\ncontrol our destiny in the material sense, and which may really govern it,\nby raising our minds to the contemplation of an infinite mystery and a\nmarvellous order.(1632) To Seneca, as to Kant, there seems a mystic tie\nbetween the starry heavens above and the moral law within. In the prologue\nto the _Natural Questions_, indeed, carried away for the moment by the\ngrandeur of his theme, Seneca seems to exalt the contemplation of the\ninfinite distances and mysterious depths and majestic order of the stellar\nworld far above the moral struggles of our mundane life. The earth shrinks\nto a mere point in infinitude, an ant-hill where the human insects mark\nout their Lilliputian territories and make their wars and voyages for\ntheir lifetime of an hour.(1633) This, however, is rather a piece of\nrhetoric than a careful statement of Seneca\u2019s real view. In the Letters,\nagain and again, we are told that virtue is the one important thing, that\nthe conquest of passion raises man to be equal to God,(1634) and that in\nthe release of the rational or divine part of us from bondage to the\nflesh, man recovers a lost liberty, a primeval dignity. But in this\nstruggle the spirit may refresh and elevate itself by looking up to the\ndivine world from which it draws its origin, and to which it may,\nperchance, return. To Seneca\u2019s mind the so-called physics really involve\ntheology and metaphysics. In the contemplation of the vastness of the\nmaterial universe, the mind may be aroused to the urgency and interest of\nthe great questions touching God, His relation to fate, to the world, and\nman.(1635) The scientific interest in Seneca is evidently not the\nstrongest. There are still indeed the echoes of the old philosophies which\nsought man\u2019s true greatness and final beatitude in the clear vision of\nabstract truth. But Seneca is travelling rapidly on the way which leads to\nanother vision of the celestial city, in which emotion, the passionate\nyearning for holiness as well as truth, blends with and tends to overpower\nthe ideal of a passionless eternity of intellectual intuition. In Seneca\u2019s\nrapturous outburst on the gate of deliverance opened by death, making\nallowance for difference of associations and beliefs, there is surely a\nstrange note of kindred sympathy, across the gulf of thirteen centuries,\nwith Thomas \u00e0 Kempis.(1636)\n\nThe _Natural Questions_ were, as he tells us, the work of his old\nage.(1637) He has a lofty conception of his task, of the importance of the\nsubject to the right culture of the spirit, and he summons up all his\nremaining energy to do it justice. But the work falls far short, in\ninterest and executive skill, of a treatise like the _De Beneficiis_, and\nthe principle of edification\u2014_omnibus sermonibus aliquid salutare\nmiscendum_(1638)\u2014is too obtrusive, and sometimes leads to incongruous and\nalmost ludicrous effects. A reference to the mullet launches him on a\ndiscourse on luxury.(1639) A discourse on mirrors would hardly seem to\nlend itself to moralising. Yet the invention furnishes to Seneca\nimpressive lessons on self-knowledge, and a chance of glorifying the\nsimple age when the unkempt daughter of a Scipio, who received her scanty\ndowry in uncoined metal, had never had her vanity aroused by the reflected\nimage of her charms.(1640) The subject of lightning naturally gives\noccasion to a homily against the fear of death.(1641) A prologue, on the\nconflict to be waged with passion and luxury and chance and change, winds\nup abruptly with the invitation\u2014_quaeramus ergo de aquis_ ... _qua ratione\nfiant_.(1642) The investigation closes with an imaginative description of\nthe great cataclysm which is destined to overwhelm in ruin the present\norder. The earthquakes in Campania in 66 A.D. naturally furnish many moral\nlessons.(1643) The closing passage of the _Natural Questions_ is perhaps\nthe best, and the most worthy of Seneca. In all these inquiries, he says,\ninto the secrets of nature, we should proceed with reverent caution and\nself-distrust, as men veil their faces and bend in humbleness before a\nsacrifice.(1644) How many an orb, moving in the depths of space, has never\nyet risen upon the eyes of man.(1645) The Great Author Himself is only\ndimly visible to the inner eye, and there are vast regions of His universe\nwhich are still beyond our ken, which dazzle us by their effulgence, or\nelude our gross senses by their subtle secrecy. We are halting on the\nthreshold of the great mysteries. There are many things destined to be\nrevealed to far-distant ages, when our memory shall have passed\naway,(1646) of which our time does not deserve the revelation. Our\nenergies are spent in discovering fresh ingenuities of luxury and\nmonstrous vice. No one gives a thought to philosophy; the schools of\nancient wisdom are deserted and left without a head.(1647) It is in this\nspirit that Seneca undertook his mission as a saviour of souls.\n\nSeneca, in the epilogue to the _Natural Questions_, remarks sarcastically\nthat, as all human progress is slow, so, even with all our efforts of\nself-indulgence, we have not yet reached the finished perfection of\ndepravity; we are still making discoveries in vice. In another passage he\nmaintains that his own age is no worse than others.(1648) But this is only\nbecause at all times the mass of men are bad. Such pessimism in the first\nand second centuries was a prevalent tone. We meet it alike in Persius,\nPetronius, Martial, and Juvenal, and in Seneca, Tacitus, Pliny, Epictetus,\nand Marcus Aurelius.(1649) The rage for wealth and luxury, the frenzy of\nvice which perverted natural healthy instincts and violated the last\nretreats of modesty, the combination of ostentation and meanness in social\nlife, the cowardice and the cruelty which are twin offspring of pampered\nself-indulgence, the vanity of culture and the vanishing of ideals, the\nvague restless ennui, hovering between satiety and passion, between faint\nglimpses of goodness and ignominious failure, between fits of ambition and\nself-abandoned languor, all these and more had come under the eye of\nSeneca as an observer or a director of souls.(1650) It is a lost world\nthat he has before him, trying fruitless anodynes for its misery, holding\nout its hands for help from any quarter.(1651) The consuming earnestness\nof Seneca, about which, in spite of his rhetoric, there can be no mistake,\nand his endless iteration are the measure of his feeling as to the gravity\nof the case. Seneca is the earliest and most powerful apostle of a great\nmoral revival. His studied phrase, his epigrammatic point seem often out\nof place; his occasionally tinsel rhetoric sometimes offends a modern\ntaste. We often miss the austere and simple seriousness of Epictetus, the\ncultivated serenity and the calm clear-sighted resignation of Marcus\nAurelius. Still let us admit that here is a man, with all his moral faults\nwhich he freely confesses, with all his rhetoric which was a part of his\nvery nature, who felt he had a mission, and meant to fulfil it with all\nthe resources of his mind. He is one of the few heathen moralists who warm\nmoral teaching with the emotion of modern religion, and touch it with the\nsadness and the yearning which spring from a consciousness of man\u2019s\ninfinite capacities and his actual degradation; one in whose eyes can be\nseen the _amor ulterioris ripae_, in whose teaching there are searching\nprecepts which go to the roots of conduct, and are true for all ages of\nour race. He adheres formally to the lines of the old Stoic system in his\nmoments of calm logical consistency. But when the enthusiasm of humanity,\nthe passion to win souls to goodness and moral truth is upon him, all the\nold philosophical differences fade, the new wine bursts the old bottles;\nthe Platonic dualism, the eternal conflict of flesh and spirit,(1652) the\nPlatonic vision of God, nay, a higher vision of the Creator, the pitiful\nand loving Guardian, the Giver of all good, the Power which draws us to\nHimself, who receives us at death, and in whom is our eternal beatitude,\nthese ideas, so alien to the older Stoicism, transfigure its hardness, and\nits cold, repellent moral idealism becomes a religion.(1653) Seneca\u2019s\nsystem is really a religion; it is morality inspired by belief in a\nspiritual world and \u201ctouched by emotion.\u201d In a remarkable letter, he\ndiscusses the question whether, for the conduct of life, precept is\nsufficient without dogma, whether a man can govern his life by empirical\nrules, without a foundation of general principles. Can a religion dispense\nwith dogma?(1654) Seneca, as a casuist and spiritual director, was not\nlikely to undervalue the importance of definite precept, adapted to the\ncircumstances of the case. The philosopher, who was a regular official in\ngreat families, probably dealt chiefly in precept, on a basis of authority\nconcealed and rarely scrutinised. But Seneca is not an ordinary\nprofessional director. He has a serious purpose; he feels that he is\ndealing with the most momentous of all problems\u2014how to form or reform a\nlife, with a view to its true end, how the final good of man is to be\nrealised only in virtuous action. But action will not be right and\nvirtuous unless the will be also right, and rightness of will depends on\nordered habit of the soul,(1655) and that again springs from right general\nprinciples or dogmas. In other words, a true theory of conduct is\nnecessary to virtue in the highest sense. Mere imperative precept and rule\ncannot give steadiness and continuity to conduct. The motive, the clear\nperception of the guiding principle, can alone dignify an act with a\npeculiar moral distinction. In order to possess that character, the\nexternal act must be rooted in a faith in the rational law of conduct.\nParticular precepts may produce an external obedience to that law, but\nthey cannot give the uniformity and certainty of the inner light and the\nregulated will.\n\nSeneca is not a sectarian dogmatist, although he lays so much stress on\nthe necessity of dogma to virtuous conduct. He boldly declares that he\ndoes not follow absolutely any of the Stoic doctors. He defends Epicurus\nagainst the vulgar misunderstanding of his theory of pleasure, and the\nmore vulgar practical deductions from it. He often quotes his maxims with\nadmiration to Lucilius.(1656) In his views of the nature of God and His\nrelation to the external world and to the human soul, Seneca often seems\nto follow the old Stoic tradition. There are other passages where he seems\nto waver between different conceptions of God, the Creator of the\nuniverse, the incorporeal Reason, the divine breath diffused through all\nthings, great and small, Fate, or the immutable chain of interlinked\ncausation.(1657) It is also clear that, from the tone of his mind, and the\nfact that the centre of philosophical interest for him is the moral life\nof man, he tends towards a more ethical conception of the Deity, as the\nBeing who loves and cares for man. All this may be admitted and will be\nfurther noticed on a later page. Yet Seneca, in strict theory, probably\nnever became a dissenter from the physical or ontological creed of his\nschool. He adhered, in the last resort, to the Stoic pantheism, which\nrepresented God and the universe, force and formless matter, as ultimately\nissuing from the one substratum of the ethereal fire of Heraclitus, and in\nthe great cataclysm, returning again to their source.(1658) He also held\ntheoretically the Stoic materialism, and the Stoic principle, that only\ncorporeal natures can act on one another.(1659) The force which moulds\nindeterminate matter into concrete form is spirit, breath, in the literal\nsense, interfused in rude matter, and by its tension, outward and again\ninward upon itself, producing form and quality and energy. Mere matter\ncould never mould itself, or develop from within a power of movement and\naction. But this material force which shapes the universe from within is\nalso rational, and the universe is a rational being, guided by the\nindwelling reason to predestined ends, and obedient to a universal law.\nThe God of the Stoics is thus a very elastic or comprehensive conception.\nHe may be viewed as the ubiquitous, impalpable force, which may, in the\nlack of more accurate expression, be called air, ether, fire. He is the\nsoul, the breath, the Anima Mundi. He is also the universal law, the\nrational principle, underlying all the apparently casual and fitful\nphenomena of physical nature and human life. God may also surely be\nregarded as the eternal Fate, the power in the ruthless, yet merciful\nsequence of inevitable causation.(1660) And, in milder and more optimistic\nmoods, we may view Him as a watchful Providence, caring for men more than\nthey seem to care for themselves, saving them from the consequences of\ntheir own errors and misdeeds. In Seneca, He develops into a moral and\nspiritual Being, the source of all spiritual intuition and virtuous\nemotion, the secret power within us making for righteousness, as He is the\nsecret force in all nature making for order.(1661)\n\nIt seems a little crude and superficial to contrast the materialist and\nidealist conceptions of God in the later Stoic creed. What human\nconception of Him is free from similar contradictions? How can any\nconception of Him, expressed in human language, avoid them? And in\nSeneca\u2019s conception of soul, even as material, there is something so thin,\nso subtle, and elusive, that the bounds of matter and spirit seem to melt\naway and disappear.(1662) However loyal he may be in form to Stoic\nmaterialism, Seneca in the end regards God as no mere material force,\nhowever refined and etherealised, but a spiritual power; not perhaps\nlimited by the bounds of personality, but instinct with moral tendencies,\nnay, a moral impetus, which no mere physical force could ever\ndevelop.(1663) The growing dualism in Seneca\u2019s metaphysics is the result\nof the growing dualism of his psychology. In accord with the old Stoic\ndoctors, he sometimes formulates the material nature of the soul, and its\nessential unity. It is, like the Anima Mundi, warm breath or subtle fire,\npenetrating all parts of the body, discharging currents from the central\nheart to the several organs. It is primarily rational, and all the lower\npowers of passion are derived from the controlling and unifying reason. It\nis a spark of the universal Spirit, holding the same place in the human\norganism as the Divine Spirit does in the universe.(1664) But experience\nand reflection drove Seneca more and more into an acceptance of the\nPlatonic opposition of reason and passion, an unceasing struggle of the\nflesh and spirit, in which the old Stoic theory of the oneness of the\nrational soul tended to disappear.(1665) This is only one, but it is the\nmost important, modification of ancient theory forced on Seneca by a\ncloser application of theory to the facts of human life, and a completer\nanalysis of them. The individual consciousness, and the spectacle of human\nlife, alike witness to the inevitable tendency of human nature to\ncorruption. Even after the great cataclysm, when a new earth shall arise\nfrom the waters of the deluge, and a new man, in perfect innocence, shall\nenter on this fair inheritance, the clouds will soon gather again, and\ndarken the fair deceitful dawn.(1666) The weary struggle of flesh and\nspirit will begin once more, in which the flesh is so often the victor.\nFor to Seneca, as to the Orphic mystics and to Plato, the body is a\nprison, and life one long punishment.(1667) Such is the misery of this\nmortal life, such the danger of hopeless corruption, that no one would\naccept the gift of existence if he could foresee the evil in store for\nhim.(1668) And death, the object of dread to the blind masses, is really\nthe one compensation for the calamity of birth, either as a happy return\nto antenatal tranquillity, or as the gateway to a glorious freedom and\nvision of the Divine.(1669) Seneca, indeed, does not always express\nhimself in this strain. He is often the consistent, orthodox Stoic, who\nglories in the rounded perfection of the _sapiens_, triumphing, even in\nthis life, over all the seductions of sense and the fallacies of perverted\nreason, and, in virtue of the divine strength within him, making himself,\neven here below, equal with God in moral purity and freedom.(1670) In such\nmoods, he will adhere to the Stoic psychology: reason will be all in all;\nvirtue will be uniform, complete, attained by one supreme victorious\neffort. But the vision is constantly crossed and darkened by doubts which\nare raised by the terrible facts of life. The moral problem becomes more\ndifficult and complicated; the vision of perfection recedes to an infinite\ndistance, and the glorious deliverance is reserved for an immortal life of\nwhich the older Stoics did not often dream.\n\nStill, we can find in Seneca all the Stoic gospel, and moral idealism.\n\u201cNil bonum nisi verum\u201d is the fundamental principle. The failures,\naberrations, and sins of men arise from a false conception of what is\ngood, produced by the warping effect of external things upon the higher\nprinciple. The avaricious, the ambitious, the sensual, live in a vain\nshow. They are pursuing unreal objects of desire, which cheat and befool\nthe reason, and turn to ashes when they are won. The \u201ckingdom of Heaven is\nwithin.\u201d It is the freedom, the peace, the tranquil sense of power over\nall that is fortuitous and external and fleeting, which alone can realise\nthe highest good of man.(1671) It is attained only by virtue, that is, by\nliving in obedience to the law of reason, which has its voice and\nrepresentative in each human soul. The summons to yield ourselves to the\nlaw of nature and reason simply calls us to obey our highest part (_\u03c4\u1f78\n\u1f21\u03b3\u03b5\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b9\u03ba\u03cc\u03bd_), which is a steadfast witness to the eternal truth of things,\nand, if unbribed and unperverted, will discern infallibly the right line\nof conduct amid all the clamorous or seductive temptations of the flesh or\nof the world. Nothing is a real good which has not the stamp and hall-mark\nof reason, which is not within the soul itself, that is within our own\npower. Everything worth having or wishing for is within. External things,\nwealth, power, high place, the pleasures of sense, are transitory,\ndeceptive, unstable, the gifts of Fortune, and equally at her mercy. In\nthe mad struggle for these ephemeral pleasures, the wise man retires\nunobserved from the scene of cruel and sordid rapacity, having secretly\nwithin him the greatest prize of all, which Fortune cannot give or take\naway.(1672) If these things were really good, then God would be less happy\nthan the slave of lust and ambition, than the sensualist who is fascinated\nby a mistress or a minion, the trader who may be ruined by a storm, the\nwealthy minister who may at any moment be ordered to death by a\nNero.(1673) The only real liberty and human dignity are to be found in\nrenunciation. If we jealously guard and reverence the divine reason within\nus, and obey its monitions, which are in truth the voice of God, the\nUniversal Reason, then we have an impregnable fortress which cannot be\nstormed by any adverse fortune. The peace and freedom so won may be\ncalled, although Seneca does not so call it, the \u201cpeace of God.\u201d For it is\nin fact the restored harmony between the human spirit and the Reason of\nthe world, and the cessation of the weary conflict between the \u201claw in the\nmembers\u201d and \u201cthe law of the mind,\u201d which ends so often in that other\npeace of a \u201cmare mortuum,\u201d a stillness of moral death.(1674)\n\nThe gospel of Seneca, with all its searching power, seems wanting in some\nof the essentials of an effective religion which can work on character.\nWhere, it may be asked, is the force to come from which shall nerve the\nrepentant one to essay the steep ascent to the calm of indefectible\nvirtue? And what is the reward which can more than compensate for the\ngreat renunciation? With regard to the first question, the Stoic answer is\nclear. The reforming force is the divine reason, indwelling in every human\nsoul,(1675) which, if it is able, or is permitted, to emancipate itself\nfrom bondage to the things of sense, will inevitably gravitate to the\ndivine world, from which it sprang. The question of necessity and freedom\nof the will has not much interest for Seneca, as a practical moralist. He\nbelieves theoretically in the old Stoic dogmas on the subject. From one\npoint of view, God may be regarded as the eternal Fate, the inevitable law\nof causation. And as the Universal Reason, He cannot act otherwise than He\ndoes, without violating His very nature. But His action is self-determined\nand therefore free and spontaneous.(1676) This freedom man only attains by\nbreaking away from the cruel servitude to passion and external\ncircumstance. As a practical moral teacher, Seneca is bound to say that we\ncan take the higher road if we will. The first step towards freedom is to\ngrasp firmly the fundamental law of the moral life\u2014that the only good lies\nin conformity to reason, to the higher part of our being. If we yield to\nits bidding, we can at once cut ourselves off from the deceitful life of\nthe senses, and the vision of the true beatitude in virtue at once opens\non the inner eye. When that vision has been seen, we must then seek to\nform a habit of the soul which shall steadily conform to the universal\nlaw, and finally give birth to a settled purpose, issuing inevitably in\nvirtuous act.(1677) It is this fixed and stable resolution which is the\nStoic ideal, although experience showed that it was rarely attained. The\ngreat renunciation is thus the entrance on a state of true freedom, which\nis realised only by submitting ourselves to the law of reason, that is of\nGod. By obedience to rational law man is raised to a level far\ntranscending the transient and shadowy dignities of the world. His\nrational and divine part is reunited to the Divine Spirit which \u201cmakes for\nrighteousness\u201d; he places himself in the sweep and freedom of a movement\nwhich finds its image and counterpart in the majestic and ordered\nmovements of the heavenly spheres. If we ask, how can poor humanity, so\nabject, so brutalised, so deadened by the downward pressure of the flesh\nand the world, ever release itself and rise to those empyrean heights, the\nanswer is, through the original strength of the rational, which is the\ndivine element in the human soul. It may be, and actually is, in the mass\nof men, drugged and silenced by the seductions of sense and the deceptions\nof the world. But if, in some moment of detachment and elation, when its\ncaptors and jailors relax their guard, it can escape their clutches, it\nwill at once seek the region of its birth, and its true home. It is in the\nkindred of the human reason with the Divine, the Reason of the world, that\nwe must seek the reconciliation of two apparently opposite points of view.\nAt one time the Stoic doctor tells us that we must trust to our own\nstrength in the moral struggle. And again Seneca, in almost Christian\nphrase, comforts his disciple with the vision of God holding out a\nsuccouring hand to struggling virtue, just as he warns the backslider of\nan eye \u201cthat seeth in secret.\u201d Woe to him who despises that Witness.(1678)\n\nWith such a conception of the relation of the human reason to the Divine,\nSeneca was bound to believe that human nature, as it is, had fallen away\nfrom original and spontaneous innocence. In the equal enjoyment of the\nunforced gifts of nature, in the absence of the avarice and luxury which\nthe development of the arts, the exploitation of the earth\u2019s hidden\nwealth, and the competitive struggle, born of a social life growing more\nand more complicated, have generated, the primeval man was unsolicited by\nthe passions which have made life a hell.(1679) Yet this blissful state\nwas one of innocence rather than of virtue; it was the result of ignorance\nof evil rather than determined choice of good.(1680) And the man who, in\nthe midst of a corrupt society, fights his way to virtue, will take far\nhigher moral rank than our simple ancestors, who wandered in the unravaged\ngarden of the Golden Age. For the man born in a time when the nobler\ninstincts have been deadened by the lust of gold and power and sensual\nexcess, the virtuous will can only be won by a hard struggle.\n\nConfronted with the facts of life, and fired with a passion to win men to\na higher law, the later Stoicism had in some points to soften the rigid\nlines of earlier theory. The severe idealism of the great doctors was a\nmere dream of an impossible detachment, the inexorable demand of a\npitiless logic. Virtue, being conformity to the immutable law of reason,\nwas conceived as a rounded, flawless whole, to which nothing could be\nadded, and to which nothing must be wanting. It presupposes, or is\nidentical with, a settled intellectual clearness, an unclouded knowledge\nof the truly good, which must inevitably issue in perfect act. It is a\nsingle, uniform mental state from which all the separate virtues spring as\nfrom a single root.(1681) The moral value of an act depends entirely on\nwill, intention, that is, on the intellectual perception. And as there are\nno gradations in the mental state, so there are no gradations in moral\nconduct which issues from it. There are no distinctions between things\nmorally good, between \u201cdivine\u201d things; and so, just as in the older\nCalvinistic system, there is no class intermediate between the wise and\nthe foolish, the saved and the lost. And conversion, \u201ctransfiguration,\u201d\nthe change from folly to wisdom, is regarded as instantaneous and\ncomplete.(1682) Even those who are struggling upward, but have not yet\nreached the top, are still to be reckoned among the foolish, just as the\nman a few inches below the waves will be drowned as certainly as if he\nwere sunk fathoms deep. And, as there is no mean state in morals, so the\nextremes are necessarily finished and perfect types of virtue and\nreprobacy. The ideal _sapiens_, who combines in himself all the moral and\nintellectual attributes that go to make up the ideal of serene, flawless\nvirtue, has been the mark for ridicule from the days of Horace.(1683) Such\nan ideal, soaring into the pure cold regions of virgin snow, left the\ngreat mass of men grovelling in filth and darkness. And it was in this\nlight that the severe Stoic regarded the condition of the multitude. They\nare all equally bad, and they will always be bad, from age to age. Every\ngeneration mourns over its degeneracy, but it is no worse than its\nancestors, and its posterity will be no better. The only variation is in\nthe various fashion of the vices.(1684) In any crowded scene, says Seneca,\nin the forum or the circus, you have a mere gathering of savage beasts, a\nspectacle of vice incarnate.(1685) In the garb of peace, they are engaged\nin a truceless war, hating the fortunate, trampling on the fallen. Viewing\nthis scene of shameless lust and cupidity where every tie of duty or\nfriendship is violated, if the wise man were to measure his indignation by\nthe atrocity of the offenders, his anger must end in madness. But we are\nall bad men living among the bad, and we should be gentle to one another.\n\nThe idealism and the pessimism of the earlier Stoics were alike fatal to\nany effort of moral reform. The cold, flawless perfection of the man of\ntriumphant reason was an impossible model which could only discourage and\nrepel aspirants to the higher life. The ghastly moral wreck of ordinary\nhuman nature, in which not a single germ of virtuous impulse seemed to\nhave survived the ruin, left apparently no hope of rescue or escape. If\nmorals were to be anything but an abstract theory, if they were to have\nany bearing on the actual character and destiny of man, their demand must\nbe modified. And so in many essential points it was, even before\nSeneca.(1686) The ideal contempt for all external things had to give way\nto an Aristotelian recognition of the value of some of them for a virtuous\nlife. And Seneca is sometimes a follower of Aristotle, as in the\nadmission, so convenient to the millionaire, that wealth may be used by\nthe wise man for higher moral ends.(1687) He will not be the slave of\nmoney; he will be its master. He will admit it to his home, but not to his\nheart, as a thing which may take to itself wings at any moment, but which\nmay meanwhile be used to cheer and warm him in his struggles, and may be\ndispensed in beneficent help to dependents. In the same way, beside the\nideal of perfect conformity to the law of reason, there appeared a class\nof conditional duties. To conform absolutely to the law of reason, to\nrealise the highest good through virtue, remains the highest Stoic ideal.\nBut if, beside the highest good, it is permitted to attach a certain value\nto some among the external objects of desire, manifestly a whole class of\nvarying duties arises in the field of choice and avoidance.(1688) And\nagain the ideal of imperturbable calm, which approached the apathy of the\nCynics, was softened by the admission of rational dispositions of\nfeeling.(1689) These concessions to imperious facts of human life, of\ncourse, modified the awful moral antithesis of wise and foolish, good and\nreprobate. Where is the perfectly wise man, with his single moral purpose,\nhis unruffled serenity, his full assurance of his own impregnable\nstrength, actually to be found?(1690) He is not to be discovered among the\nmost devoted adherents of the true philosophic creed. Even a Socrates\nfalls short of the sublime standard. If we seek for the wise man in the\nfabulous past, we shall find only heroic force, or a blissful, untempted\nignorance, which are alike wanting in the first essential of virtue.(1691)\nAs the perfect ideal of moral wisdom, imperturbable, assured, and\nindefectible, receded to remote ideal distances, so the condemnation of\nall moral states below an impossible perfection to indiscriminate\nreprobacy(1692) had to be revoked. Seneca maintains that men are all bad,\nbut he is forced to admit that they are not all equally bad, nay, that\nthere are men who, although not quite emancipated from the snares of the\nworld and the flesh, have reached various stages on the upward way. He\neven distinguishes three classes of _proficientes_, of persons on the path\nof moral progress.(1693) There is the man who has conquered many serious\nvices, but is still captive to others. Again, there is the man who has got\nrid of the worst faults and passions, but who is not secure against a\nrelapse. There is a third class who have almost reached the goal. They\nhave achieved the great moral victory; they have embraced the one true\nobject of desire; they are safe from any chance of falling away; but they\nwant the final gift of full assurance reserved for the truly wise.(1694)\nThey have not attained to the crowning glory of conscious strength. Seneca\nis still in bondage to the hard Stoic tradition, in spite of his\naberrations from it. The great Catholic virtue of humility is to him\nstill, theoretically at least, a disqualification for the highest\nspiritual rank.\n\nAnd yet Seneca is far from wanting in humility. In giving counsels of\nperfection, he candidly confesses that he is himself far from the\nideal.(1695) Indeed, his _Letters_ reveal a character which, with lofty\nideals, and energetic aspiration, is very far removed from the serene joy\nand peace of the true Stoic sage. He has not got the invulnerable panoply\nfrom which all the shafts of fortune glance aside. He shows again and\nagain how deep a shadow the terror of his capricious master could cast\nover his life, how he can be disturbed even by the smaller troubles of\nexistence, by the slights of great society, by the miseries of a sea\nvoyage, or the noises of a bath.(1696) In the counsels addressed to\nLucilius, Seneca is probably quite as often preaching to himself. The\nennui, the unsteadiness of moral purpose, the clinging to wealth and\npower, the haunting fears or timid anticipations of coming evil, for which\nhe is constantly suggesting spiritual remedies, are diagnosed with such\nsearching skill and vividness that we can hardly doubt that the physician\nhas first practised his art upon himself.(1697) Nor has he entire faith in\nhis own insight or in the potency of the remedies which ancient wisdom has\naccumulated. The great difficulty is, that the moral patient, in\nproportion to the inveteracy of his disease, is unconscious of it.(1698)\nSociety, with its manifold temptations of wealth and luxury and\nirresponsible ease, can so overwhelm the congenital tendency to\nvirtue,(1699) that the inner monitor may be silenced, and a man may come\nto love his depravity.(1700) If men are not getting better, they are\ninevitably getting worse. There is such a state, in the end, as hopeless,\nirreclaimable reprobacy. Yet even for the hoary sinner Seneca will not\naltogether despair, so long as there lingers in him some divine\ndiscontent, however faint, some lingering regret for a lost purity. He\nwill not lose hope of converting even a mocker like Marcellinus, who\namuses himself with jeers at the vices and inconsistencies of professing\nphilosophers, and does not spare himself. Seneca may, perchance, give him\na pause in his downward course.(1701)\n\nSeneca\u2019s gospel, as he preaches it, is for a limited class. With all his\nprofessed belief in the equality and brotherhood of men, Seneca addresses\nhimself, through the aristocratic Epicurean Lucilius, to the slaves of\nwealth and the vices which it breeds. The men whom he wishes to save are\nmasters of great households, living in stately palaces, and striving to\nescape from the weariness of satiety by visits to Baiae or\nPraeneste.(1702) They are men who have awful secrets, and whose apparent\ntranquillity is constantly disturbed by vague terrors,(1703) whose\nintellects are wasted on the vanities of a conventional culture or the\nlogomachies of a barren dialectic.(1704) They are people whose lives are a\nrecord of weak purpose and conflicting aims, and who are surprised by old\nage while they are still barely on the threshold of real moral life.(1705)\nWith no religious or philosophic faith, death is to such men the great\nterror, as closing for ever that life of the flesh which has been at once\nso pleasant and so tormenting.(1706) In dealing with such people, Seneca\nrecognises the need both of the great principles of right living and of\nparticular precepts, adapted to varieties of character and circumstance.\nThe true and solid foundation of conduct must always be the clear\nperception of moral truth, giving birth to rightly-directed purpose and\nsupplying the right motive. For example, without a true conception of God\nas a spirit, worship will be gross and anthropomorphic.(1707) The doctrine\nof the brotherhood of all men in the universal commonwealth is the only\nsolid ground of the social charities and of humanity to slaves. Yet dogma\nis not enough; discipline must be added. The moral director has to deal\nwith very imperfect moral states, some of quite rudimentary growth, and\nhis disciples may have to be treated as boys learning to write, whose\nfingers the master must guide mechanically across the tablet.(1708) The\nlatent goodness of humanity must be disencumbered of the load which,\nthrough untold ages, corrupt society has heaped upon it. The delusions of\nthe world and the senses must be exposed, the judgment, confused and\ndazzled by their glamour, must be cleared and steadied, the weak must be\nencouraged, the slothful and backsliding must be aroused to continuous\neffort in habitual converse with some good man who has trodden the same\npaths before.(1709) Thus the great \u201cArs Vitae,\u201d founded on a few simple\nprinciples of reason, developed into a most complicated system of\ncasuistry and spiritual direction. How far it was successful we cannot\npretend to say. But the thoughtful reader of Seneca\u2019s _Letters_ cannot\nhelp coming to the conclusion that, even in the reign of Nero, there must\nhave been many of the _proficientes_, of candidates for the full Stoic\nfaith. If Seneca reveals the depths of depravity in his age, we are\nequally bound to believe that he represents, and is trying to stimulate, a\ngreat moral movement, a deep seated discontent with the hard, gross\nmaterialism, thinly veiled under dilettantism and spurious artistic\nsensibility, of which Nero was the type. Everything that we have of\nSeneca\u2019s, except the _Tragedies_, deals with the problems or troubles of\nthis moral life, and the demand for advice or consolation appears to have\nbeen urgent. Lucilius, the young Epicurean procurator, who has been\nimmortalised by the _Letters_, is only one of a large class of spiritual\ninquirers. He not only lays his own moral difficulties before the master,\nbut he brings other spiritual patients for advice.(1710) There were\nevidently many trying to withdraw from the tyranny or temptations of high\nlife, with a more or less stable resolution to devote themselves to\nreflection and amendment. It is a curious pagan counterpart to the\nChristian ascetic movement of the fourth and fifth centuries.(1711) And,\njust as in the days of S. Jerome and S. Paulinus, the deserter from the\nranks of fashion and pleasure in Nero\u2019s time had to encounter a storm of\nridicule and misrepresentation. Philosophic retreat was derided as mere\nlanguid self-indulgence, an unmanly shrinking from social duty, nay, even\na mere mask for the secret vices which were, too often with truth, charged\nagainst the _soi-disant_ philosopher.(1712) Sometimes the wish to lead a\nhigher life was openly assailed by a cynical Epicureanism. Virtue and\nphilosophy were mere idle babble. The only happiness is to make the most\nof the senses while the senses still keep their fresh lust for pleasure.\nThe days are fleeting away never to return in which we can drink with keen\nzest the joys of the flesh. What folly to spare a patrimony for a\nthankless heir!(1713) Seneca had to deal with many souls wavering between\nthe two ideals. One of his treatises is addressed to a kinsman, Annaeus\nSerenus, who had made a full confession of a vague unrest, an impotence of\nwill, the conflict of moral torpor with high resolve.(1714) In his better\nmoments, Annaeus inclines to simplicity of life and self-restraint. Yet a\nvisit to a great house dazzles him and disturbs his balance, with the\nsight of its troops of elegant slaves, its costly furniture and luxurious\nfeasting. He is at one time drawn to philosophic quietude; at another he\nbecomes the strenuous ambitious Roman of the old days, eager for the\nconflicts of the forum. He is always wavering between a conviction of the\nvanity of literary trifling and the passion for literary fame.(1715)\nCannot Seneca, to whom he owes his ideal, furnish some remedy for this\nconstant tendency to relapse and indecision?\n\nIt is in the sympathetic handling of such cases, not in broad philosophic\ntheory, that the peculiar strength of Seneca lies. His counsels were\nadapted to the particular difficulties presented to him. But many of them\nhave a universal validity. He encourages the wish to retire into\nmeditative quietude, but only as a means to moral cure.(1716) Retreat\nshould not be an ostentatious defiance of the opinion of the world.(1717)\nNor is it to be a mere cloak for timid or lazy shrinking from the burdens\nof life. You should withdraw from the strife and temptations of the\nmundane city, only to devote yourself to the business of the spiritual\ncity, to cultivate self-knowledge and self-government, to inspire the soul\nwith the contemplation of the Eternal and the Divine. Solitude may be a\ndanger, unless a man lives in the presence of \u201cOne who seeth in\nsecret,\u201d(1718) from whom no evil thought is hidden, to whom no prayer for\nevil things must be addressed.(1719) And, lest the thought of God\u2019s\npresence may not come home with sufficient urgency, Seneca recommends his\ndisciples to call up the image of some good man or ancient sage, and live\nas if under his eye.(1720) The first step in moral progress is\nself-knowledge and confession of one\u2019s faults.(1721) Ignorance of our\nspiritual disease, the doom of the indurated conscience, is the great\ndanger, and may be the mark of a hopeless moral state. Hence the necessity\nfor constant daily self-examination. In the quiet of each night we should\nreview our conduct and feeling during the day, marking carefully where we\nhave fallen short of the higher law, and strengthening ourselves with any\nsigns of self-conquest. Seneca tells us that this was his own constant\npractice.(1722) For progress is only slow and difficult. It requires\nwatchful and unremitting effort to reach that assured and settled purpose\nwhich issues spontaneously in purity of thought and deed, and which raises\nman to the level of the Divine freedom. There must be no pauses of\nself-complacency until the work is done. There is no mediocrity in morals.\nThere must be no halting and unsteadiness of purpose, no looking back to\nthe deceitful things of the world. Inconstancy of the wavering will only\nshortens the span of this short life. How many there are who, even when\ntreading the last stage to death, are only beginning to live, in the true\nsense, and who miss the beatitude of the man who, having mastered the\ngreat secret, can have no addition to his happiness from lengthened years.\nIn the long tract of time any life is but a moment, and of that the least\npart by most men is really lived.(1723) And this unsettled aim is liable\nto constant temptation from without. We are continually within sight and\nearshot of the isles of the Sirens, and only the resolution of a Ulysses\nwill carry us past in safety.(1724) In fact no isle of the Sirens can have\nbeen more dangerous than the life of a great household in the Neronian\nage, when the dainties and the vices of every land assailed the senses\nwith multiplied seductions, and men craved in vain for a heightened and\nkeener sensibility. Perpetual change of scene to the shores of Baiae, to\nApulia, to some glen in the Apennines, or to the northern lakes, or even\nfurther, to the Rhone, the Nile, the Atlas, was sought by the jaded man of\npleasure or the man struggling in vain to reform. But Seneca warns his\ndisciple that wherever he may go he will take his vices and his weakness\nwith him.(1725) Let him try to work out his salvation within his great\npalace on the Esquiline. Surrounded by splendour and luxury, let him, for\na time, isolate himself from them; let him lie on a hard bed, and live on\nscanty fare, and fancy himself reduced to that poverty which he dreads so\nmuch and so foolishly.(1726) The change will be good for body and soul;\nand the temporary ascetic may return to his old life, at least released\nfrom one of his bugbears, and refreshed with a new sense of freedom.\n\nSuch were some of the precepts by which Seneca strove to fortify the\nstruggling virtue of his disciples. But he never concealed from them that\nit is only by struggle that the remote ideal can be attained. \u201cVivere\nmilitare est.\u201d And almost in the words of S. Paul, he uses the example of\nthe gladiator or the athlete, to arouse the energy of the aspirant after\nmoral perfection.(1727) \u201cThey do it for a corruptible crown.\u201d(1728) The\nreward of the Stoic disciple is vain and poor to the gross materialist.\nBut, from the serene heights, where ideal Reason watches the struggle, the\nonly victor is the man who has adopted the watchwords\u2014self-knowledge,\nrenunciation, resignation. Only by following that steep path can any one\never reach the goal of assured peace within, and be delivered from the\nturmoil of chance and change. The misery of the sensual, the worldly, and\nthe ambitious lies in the fact that they have staked their happiness on\nthings which are beyond their own power, which are the casual gifts of\nfortune, and may be as capriciously withdrawn. This state is one of\nslavery to external things, and the pleasure, after all, which can be\ndrawn from them is fleeting. Hence it is that the sensualist is equally\nmiserable when his pleasures are denied, and when they are\nexhausted.(1729) He places his happiness in one brief moment, with the\ndanger or the certainty either of privation or satiety. The wise man of\nthe Stoics, on the other hand, has built his house upon the rock. He\nshuns, according to the Pythagorean maxim, the ways of the multitude, and\ntrusting to the illumination of divine Reason, he takes the narrow\npath.(1730) His guiding light is the principle that the \u201ckingdom of heaven\nis within,\u201d that man\u2019s supreme good depends only on himself, that is, on\nthe unfettered choice of reason. To such a man \u201call things are his,\u201d for\nall worth having is within him. His mind creates its own world, or rather\nit rediscovers a lost world which was once his. He can, if he will,\nannihilate the seductions of the flesh and the world, which cease to\ndisturb when they are contemned. He may equally extinguish the griefs and\nexternal pains of life, for each man is miserable just as he thinks\nhimself.(1731) Human nature, even unfortified by philosophic teaching, has\nbeen found capable of bearing the extremity of torture with a smile. The\nman who has mastered the great secret that mind may, by its latent forces,\ncreate its own environment, should be able to show the endurance of a\nScaevola or a Regulus.(1732) All he needs to do is to unmask the objects\nof his dread.(1733) For just as men are deluded by the show of material\npleasure, so are they unmanned by visionary fears. Even the last event of\nlife should have no terror for the wise man, on any rational theory of the\nfuture of the soul. The old mythical hell, the stone of Sisyphus, the\nwheel of Ixion, Cerberus, and the ghostly ferryman, may be dismissed to\nthe limbo of fable.(1734) For the man who has followed the inner light,\ndeath must either be a return to that antenatal calm of nothingness which\nhas left no memory, or the entrance to a blissful vision of the\nDivine.(1735) Even in this luxurious and effeminate time, men and women of\nall ranks and ages have shown themselves ready to escape from calamity or\ndanger by a voluntary death.(1736) And what after all is death? It is not\nthe terminus of life, a single catastrophe of a moment. In the very hour\nof birth we enter on the first stage in the journey to the grave. We are\ndying daily, and our last day only completes the process of a life-long\ndeath.(1737) And as to the shortness of our days, no life is short if it\nhas been full.(1738) The mass of men are only living in an ambiguous\nsense; they linger or vegetate in life, they do not really live. Nay, many\nare long since dead when the hour of so-called death arrives. And the men\nwho mourn over the shortness of their days are the greatest prodigals of\nthe one thing that can never be replaced.(1739) In the longest life, on a\nrational estimate, how small a fraction is ever really lived! The whole\npast, which might be a sure and precious possession, is flung away by the\neager, worldly man.(1740) The fleeting present is lost in unrest or\nreckless procrastination, or in projecting ourselves into a future that\nmay never come. Thus old age surprises us while we are mere children in\nmoral growth.(1741)\n\nAt certain moments, the Stoic ideal might seem to be in danger of merging\nitself in the self-centred isolation of the Cynic, asserting the defiant\nindependence of individual virtue, the nothingness of all external goods,\nthe omnipotence of the solitary will. And undoubtedly, in the last resort,\nSeneca has pictured the wise man thus driven to bay, and calmly defying\nthe rage of the tyrant, the caprices of fortune, the loss of health and\nwealth, nay the last extremity of torture and ignominious death. His own\nperilous position, and the prospect of society in the reign of Nero, might\nwell lead a man of meditative turn so to prepare himself for a fate which\nwas always imminent. But the Stoic doctor could never acquiesce in a mere\nnegative ideal, the self-centred independence of the individual soul. He\nwas too cultivated, he had drunk too deep of the science and philosophy of\nthe past, he had too wide an outlook over the facts of human life and\nsociety, to relegate himself to a moral isolation which was apt to become\na state of brutal disregard of the claims of social duty, and even of\npersonal self-respect.(1742) Such a position was absolutely impossible to\na man like Seneca. Whatever his practice may have been, it is clear that\nin temperament he was almost too soft and emotional. He was a man with an\nintense craving for sympathy, and lavish of it to others; he was the last\nman in the world who could enjoy a solitary paradise of self-satisfied\nperfection. It is true the Roman world to the eyes of Seneca lay in the\nshadow of death, crushed under a treacherous despotism, and enervated by\ngross indulgence. Yet, although he sees men in this lurid light, he does\nnot scorn or hate them. It was not for nothing that Seneca had been for\nfive years the first minister of the Roman Empire. To have stood so near\nthe master of the world, and felt the pulse of humanity from Britain to\nthe Euphrates, to have listened to their complaints and tried to minister\nto their needs, was a rare education in social sympathy. It had a profound\neffect on M. Aurelius, and it had left its mark on Seneca.(1743)\n\nTwo competing tendencies may be traced in Stoicism, and in Seneca\u2019s\nexposition of it. On the one hand, man must seek the harmony of his nature\nby submitting his passions and emotions to his own higher nature, and\nshaking himself free from all bondage to the flesh or the world. On the\nother hand, man is regarded as the subject of the universal Reason, a\nmember of the universal commonwealth, whose maker and ruler is God.(1744)\nThe one view might make a man aim merely at isolated perfection; it might\nproduce the philosophic monk. The other and broader conception of humanity\nwould make man seek his perfection, not only in personal virtue, but in\nactive sympathy with the movement of the world. The one impulse would end\nin a kind of spiritual selfishness. The other would seek for the full\ndevelopment of spiritual strength in the mutual aid and sympathy of\nstruggling humanity, in friendship,(1745) in the sense of a universal\nbrotherhood and the fatherhood of God. There are two cities, says Seneca,\nin which a man may be enrolled\u2014the great society of gods and men, wide as\nthe courses of the sun; the other, the Athens or the Carthage to which we\nare assigned by the accident of birth.(1746) A man may give himself to the\nservice of both societies, or he may serve the one and neglect the other.\nThe wise man alone realises to the full his citizenship in the spiritual\ncommonwealth, in pondering on the problems of human conduct, the nature of\nthe soul, of the universe and God, and conforming his moral being to the\neternal law of Nature. The sage, a Zeno or a Chrysippus, may rightly\ndevote himself exclusively to contemplation and moral self-culture.(1747)\nHe may not, by wealth and station, have access to the arena of active\nlife. And, although a seeming recluse, he may really be a far greater\nbenefactor of his kind than if he led the Senate, or commanded armies.\nThere may be cases in which a man may be right in turning his back on\npublic life, in order to concentrate all his energies on self-improvement.\nAnd Seneca does not hesitate to counsel Lucilius to withdraw himself from\nthe thraldom of office.(1748) Yet Zeno\u2019s precept was that the wise man\nwill serve the State unless there be some grave impediment in his\nway.(1749) For, on Stoic principles, we are all members one of another,\nand bound to charity and mutual help. And all speculation and\ncontemplation are vain and frivolous unless they issue in right action.\nYet the practical difficulty for the _sapiens_ was great, if not\ninsuperable. What earthly commonwealth could he serve with consistency; is\nit an Athens, which condemned a Socrates to death, and drove an Aristotle\ninto exile?(1750) How please the vulgar sensual crowd without displeasing\nGod and conscience? It might seem that the true disciple of Stoicism could\nnot take a part in public life save under some ideal polity, such as Plato\nor Chrysippus dreamed of.(1751) Here, as elsewhere, the problem was solved\nwith varying degrees of consistency. The problem is stated by Seneca\u2014\u201cSe\ncontentus est sapiens ad beate vivendum, non ad vivendum.\u201d(1752) It is the\never-recurring conflict between lofty idealism and the facts of human\nlife, which is softened, if not solved, from age to age by casuistry. The\nwise and good man should have the springs of his happiness in himself. Yet\na wise friend may call forth his powers, and furnish an object of\nself-sacrifice.(1753) The wise man will not entangle himself in the cares\nof family life.(1754) Yet wife and child are needed to give completeness\nto the life of the citizen. Since man exists for the general order, how\ncan he avoid lending his services to the State, unless there be some\ninsuperable bar? The controversy between the dream of solitary perfection\nand altruism was variously solved, and the particular solution could\nalways be defended in the light of the great law of life. Epictetus, cut\noff from the great world by servile birth and poverty, could make light of\nmarriage, of the begetting of future citizens, and the duties of political\nlife.(1755) On the other hand, M. Aurelius, by nature as detached as\nEpictetus, might refuse to follow the transcendental counsels of\nChrysippus and Seneca. He might strive painfully to reconcile devotion to\nan irksome political charge with a dream of that unseen commonwealth \u201cin\nwhich the cities of men are as it were houses.\u201d(1756)\n\nYet in spite of these difficulties about public duty, no one outside the\npale of Christianity has perhaps ever insisted so powerfully on the\nobligation to live for others, on the duty of love and forgiveness, as\nSeneca has done. We are all, bond or free, ruler or subject, members one\nof another, citizens of a universal commonwealth.(1757) We have all within\nus a portion of the Divine spirit. No man can live entirely to\nhimself.(1758) If we are not doing good to others we are doing harm. The\nnature of man and the constitution of the universe make it a positive\nobligation to seek the welfare of our fellows.(1759) The social instinct\nis innate and original in us. As man is flung upon the world at birth, or\nin the natural state, with all his immense possibilities as yet\nundeveloped, no creature is so helpless.(1760) It was only by combination\nand mutual good offices that men were able to repel the dangers which\nsurrounded the infancy of the race, and to conquer the forces of nature.\nMan is born for social union, which is cemented by concord, kindness, and\nlove,(1761) and he who shows anger, selfishness, perfidy, or cruelty to\nhis fellows strikes at the roots of social life. Nor should the spectacle\nof universal depravity cause us to hate or despise our kind.(1762) It is\nquite true that the mass of men are bad, and always will be bad, with only\nrare exceptions. If society is the source of many blessings, it is also a\ngreat corruptor, and the conquest of nature and the development of the\narts have aroused insatiable passions which have darkened the eye of\nreason.(1763) Yet this crowd of sinners are our brothers, with the germs\nof virtue in their grain. They have taken the broad way almost\nnecessarily, because it is broad. A general may punish individual\nsoldiers, but you must pardon an army when it deserts the standards. The\ntruly wise, not knowing whether to laugh or weep, will look kindly on the\nerring masses, as sick men who need a physician.(1764) And beside the few\ntruly wise, who can cast the first stone? We are all more or less bad, we\nhave all gone astray.(1765) And yet we constantly show the utmost severity\nto the faults of others, while we forget or ignore our own.(1766) Even as\nGod is long-suffering to transgressors, and sends His rain upon the evil\nand good alike, so should we be merciful in judgment and lavish in\nbeneficence.(1767) The spectacle of universal greed and selfishness and\ningratitude should not harden us against our fellows, but rather make us\nturn our eyes to our own faults.(1768) Sometimes, indeed, the note of\nhumility is absent, and Seneca is the serene _sapiens contra mundum_, or\nthe proud Roman gentleman who will not demean himself to resent or even\nnotice the insults or injuries of the spiteful crowd.(1769) They will pass\nhim by as the licensed jests of the slaves on the Saturnalia. He reminds\nhimself that it is the lower air which is turbid with storm and thunder;\nthe ether which spreads around the stars is never vexed and darkened by\nthe tempest.(1770) This is one of the recurring contrasts in Seneca\nbetween the moral tone of the old world and that of the great movement\nwhich was setting in. But the new prevails in the end. The conception of\nGod as cold reason or impersonal law or fate gives way to the thought of a\nGod who guides by His providence, who embraces all by His love, whose\ngoodness is as boundless as His power, who is best worshipped by the\nimitation of His goodness.(1771) As the vision grows, the pride of the\ninvulnerable _sapiens_, who might make himself the equal or more than the\nequal of God,(1772) shrinks and is abased. We are all more or less bad,\nand we should be gentle to one another.(1773) Do we complain of coldness\nand ingratitude? Let us think how many a kindness done to us in early\ndays, the tenderness of a nurse, a friend\u2019s wise counsel or help in\ncritical times, we have carelessly let slip from memory.(1774) The faults\nwhich irritate us in another are often lurking in ourselves. Forgive if\nyou wish for forgiveness; conquer evil with good; do good even to those\nwho have wrought you evil.(1775) Let us copy the serene example of those\nEternal Powers who constantly load with their benefits even those who\ndoubt of their existence, and bear with unruffled kindness the errors of\nfrail souls that stumble by the way.\n\nAnd as we shall not be harsh to those of our own external rank, so shall\nwe soften the lot of those whom fortune has condemned to slavery. Even the\nslave is admitted to that great city of gods and men, which has no\nfrontiers, which embraces all races and ranks, where all ranks should be\nlevelled by the consciousness of a common Divine descent and a universal\nbrotherhood of men.(1776) The conquests of Macedon and Rome, overthrowing\nall old-world national barriers, had prepared the way for the greatest and\nmost fruitful triumph of ancient philosophy. And the Stoic school has the\nglory of anticipating the diviner dream, yet far from realised, of a human\nbrotherhood under the light from the Cross. Seneca has never risen higher,\nor swept farther into the future than in his treatment of slavery. He is\nfar in advance of many a bishop or abbot or Christian baron of the middle\nage. Can a slave confer a benefit? he asks.(1777) Is his service, however\nlavish, not merely a duty to his lord, which, as it springs from\nconstraint, is undeserving of gratitude? Seneca repudiates the base\nsuggestion with genuine warmth. On the same principle a subject cannot\nconfer a benefit on his monarch, a simple soldier on his general. There is\na limit beyond which power cannot command obedience. There is a line\nbetween cringing compliance and generous self-sacrifice. And the slave has\noften passed that limit. He has often borne wounds and death to save his\nmaster\u2019s life in battle. He has often, in the years of the terror, endured\nthe last extremity of torture, rather than betray his secrets.(1778) The\nbody of the slave is his master\u2019s; his mind is his own.(1779) It cannot be\nbought and sold. And in his inner soul, the slave is his master\u2019s equal.\nHe is capable of equal virtue and equal culture; nay, in both he may be\nhis master\u2019s superior. He can confer a benefit if he can suffer injury in\nthe outrages which cruelty and lust inflict upon him. When he confers a\nbenefit, he confers it as man upon man, as an equal in the great family\nwhose Father is God.\n\nSeneca gives a lurid picture of the corruption of women in the general\nlicence of his age.(1780) Yet he has a lofty ideal of what women might\nbecome. Like other Stoic preachers, it was his good fortune to be\nsurrounded by good women from his infancy. He remembers the tenderness of\nhis aunt, in whose arms he first entered Rome as a child, who nursed him\nthrough long sickness, and broke through her reserve to help him in his\nearly career of ambition. Her blameless character escaped even the\npetulance of Alexandrian gossip.(1781) His letters to his mother, Helvia,\nreveal a matron of the best Roman type\u2014strong, self-denying, proud of her\nmotherhood, and despising the extravagance and ostentation of her class.\nIn spite of her father\u2019s limited idea of female culture, she had educated\nherself in liberal studies, and found them a refuge in affliction.(1782)\nMarcia was of a softer type, and gave way to excessive grief for a lost\nchild. Yet it is to her that Seneca unfolds most fully his ideal of\nfeminine character. He will not admit the inferior aptitude of women for\nvirtue and culture.(1783) Women have the same inner force, the same\ncapacity for nobleness as men. The husband of Paulina who surrounded him\nwith affectionate sympathy, and was prepared to die along with him, the\nman who had witnessed the stern courage and loving devotion of the wives\nof the Stoic martyrs, might well have a lofty ideal of woman\u2019s\ncharacter.(1784) But to any true disciple of the Porch that ideal had a\nsurer ground than any personal experience, however happy. The creed which\nSeneca held was at once a levelling and an elevating creed. It found the\nonly nobility or claim to rank in higher capacity for virtue.(1785) It\nembraced in the arms of its equal charity all human souls, bond or free,\nmale or female, however they might be graded by convention or accident,\nwho have a divine parentage, and may, if they will, have a lofty, perhaps\nan eternal future.\n\nAnd now, in taking leave of Seneca, let us forget the fawning exile in\nCorsica, the possible lover of Julia or Agrippina, the millionaire\nminister of Nero, who was surrounded by a luxury and state which moved the\nenvy of the tyrant.(1786) Rather let us think of the ascetic from his\nearly youth, who, raised by his talents to the highest place, had to\nreconcile an impossible ideal with the sordid or terrible realities of\nthat rank which was at once a \u201cpinnacle and a precipice.\u201d(1787) He was\ncontinually torn by the contrast between the ideal of a lofty Stoic creed\nand the facts of human life around him, between his own spiritual cravings\nand the temptations or the necessities of the opportunist statesman. He\nwas imbued with principles of life which could be fully realised only in\nsome Platonic Utopia; he had to deal with men as they were in the reign of\nNero, as they are painted by Tacitus and Petronius. If he failed in the\nimpossible task of such a reconciliation, let us do him the justice of\nrecognising that he kept his vision clear, and that he has expounded a\ngospel of the higher life, which, with all its limitations from\ntemperament or tradition, will be true for our remotest posterity, that he\nhad a vision of the City of God.(1788) He was not personally perhaps so\npure and clear a soul as Plutarch or Aristides or Dion Chrysostom. But he\nhad utterly cast off that heathen anthropomorphism which crossed and\ndisturbed their highest visions of the Divine.(1789) Seneca is far more\nmodern and advanced than even the greatest of the Neo-Platonic school,\njust because he saw that the old theology was hopelessly effete. He could\nnever have joined in the last struggle of philosophic paganism with the\nChurch. And so the Church almost claimed him as her son, while it never\ndreamt of an affinity with Plutarch or Plotinus.\n\nIndeed, there needed only the change of some phrases to reconcile the\nteaching of Seneca with that of the great ascetic Christian doctors. Many\nof the headings of the _Imitation_ might be attached to paragraphs of\nSeneca\u2014\u201cof bearing with the faults of others\u201d; \u201cof inordinate affections\u201d;\n\u201cof the love of solitude and silence\u201d; \u201cof meditation on death\u201d; \u201cof\nhumble submission\u201d; \u201cthat to despise the world and serve God is sweet\u201d;\n\u201cof the acknowledgment of our own infirmities, and the remembrance of\nGod\u2019s benefits\u201d; \u201cof the contempt of temporal honour and vain secular\nknowledge\u201d; \u201cof the day of eternity and this life\u2019s straitness.\u201d In truth,\nthe great spirits of all ages who have had a genius for religion, after\ndue allowance for difference of association and difference of phrase, are\nstrangely akin and harmonious. And Seneca had one great superiority over\nother equally religious souls of his time, which enables him to approach\nmediaeval and modern religious thought\u2014he had broken absolutely with\npaganism. He started with belief in the God of the Stoic creed; he never\nmentions the Stoic theology which attempted to reconcile Him with the gods\nof the Pantheon. In spite of all his rhetoric, he tries to see the facts\nof human life and the relation of the human spirit to the Divine in the\nlight of reason, with no intervening veil of legend. God is to Seneca the\ngreat Reality, however halting human speech may describe Him, as Fate, or\nLaw, or Eternal Reason, or watchful loving Providence. God is within us,\nin whatever mysterious way, inspiring good resolves, giving strength in\ntemptation, with all-seeing eye watching the issue of the struggle. God is\nwithout us, loading us with kindness even when we offend, chastising us in\nmercy, the goal of all speculation, He from whom we proceed, to whom we go\nat death. The true worship of Him is not in formal prayer and sacrifice,\nbut in striving to know and imitate His infinite goodness. We mortal men\nin our brief life on earth may be citizens of two commonwealths, one the\nRome or Corinth of our birth, the other that great city of gods and men,\nin which all are equally united, male and female, bond and free, as\nchildren of a common Father. In this ideal citizenship, in obedience to\nthe law of the spiritual city, the eternal law which makes for\nrighteousness, man attains his true freedom and final beatitude in\ncommunion with kindred souls.\n\nYet, as in mediaeval and puritan religious theory, there is in Seneca a\nstrange conflict between pessimism and idealism. To the doomed philosophic\nstatesman of the reign of Nero, the days of man\u2019s life are few and evil.\nLife is but a moment in the tract of infinite age, and so darkened by\nmanifold sins and sorrows that it seems, as it did to Sophocles, a\nsinister gift.(1790) On the other hand, its shortness is a matter of no\nimportance; the shortest life may be full and glad if it be dignified by\neffort and resignation and conformity to the great law of the universe.\nThe wise and pious man, ever conscious of his brief time of probation, may\nbrighten each passing day into a festival and lengthen it into a life. The\nshortness of a life is only an illusion, for long or short have no meaning\nwhen measured by the days of eternity. And the philosopher may unite many\nlives in one brief span. He may join himself to a company of sages who add\ntheir years to his, who counsel without bitterness, and praise without\nflattery; he may be adopted into a family whose wealth increases the more\nit is divided; in him all the ages may be combined in a single life.(1791)\nTo such a spirit death loses all its terrors. The eternal mystery indeed\ncan be pierced only by imaginative hope. Death, we may be sure, however,\ncan only be a change. It may be a passage into calm unconsciousness, as\nbefore our birth, which will release us from all the griefs and tumults of\nthe life here below. It may, on the other hand, prove to be the morning of\nan eternal day, the entrance to a radiant and untroubled world of infinite\npossibilities. In any case, the spirit which has trained itself in\nobedience to eternal law, will not tremble at a fate which is surely\nreserved for the universe, by fire or flood or other cataclysmal change.\nThe future in store for the soul is either to dwell for ever among things\ndivine, or to sink back again into the general soul, and God shall be all\nin all.\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAPTER II\n\n\n                        THE PHILOSOPHIC MISSIONARY\n\n\nThe gospel of philosophy expounded by Seneca was rather an esoteric or\naristocratic creed. With all his liberal sentiment, his cosmopolitanism,\nhis clear conception of human equality and brotherhood, Seneca always\nremains the director of souls like his own, enervated by wealth, tortured\nwith the ennui of jaded sensibility, haunted by the terror of the\nCaesars.(1792) Indeed Stoicism was always rather a creed for the\ncultivated upper class than for the crowd. In its prime, its apparatus of\nlogical formulae, its elaborate physics and metaphysics, its essentially\nintellectual solution of the problems both of the universe and human life,\nnecessarily disabled it from ever developing into a popular system. And in\nthe later days of the Republic, theory became more important than\npractice, and logic passed into casuistry.(1793) But in the first century,\nStoicism came to be much more a religion than a philosophy, or even a\ntheology. Its main business, as conceived by men like Seneca, is to save\nsouls from the universal shipwreck of character(1794) caused by the\ncapricious excesses of luxury, the idolatry of the world and the flesh,\nwhich sprang from a riotous pride in the material advantages of imperial\npower, without a sobering sense of duty or a moral ideal. But, in the\nnature of things, this wreck of character was most glaringly seen among\nthe men who were in close contact with the half insane masters of the\nworld in the first century, and who possessed the resources to exhaust the\npossibilities of pleasure or the capacities of the senses to enjoy. It is\nto people of this class, who still retained some lingering instincts of\ngoodness, weary with indulgence, bewildered and tortured by the conflict\nof the lower nature with the weak, but still disturbing, protests of the\nhigher, that Seneca addresses his counsels.\n\nBut what of the great masses lying outside the circle of cultivated and\nexhausted self-indulgence, that plebeian world of which we have seen the\npicture in their municipalities and colleges? It is clear from the records\nof their daily life, their ambitions, their tasks and amusements, that,\nalthough perhaps not generally tainted with such deep corruption as the\nnobles of the Neronian age, their moral tone and aspirations hardly\ncorrespond to the material splendour of the Empire. Even apart from the\nglimpses of low life in Petronius, Martial, and Apuleius, apart from the\nrevelations of Pompeii, and the ghastly traditions which haunt the ruins\nof countless theatres and amphitheatres, the warnings of preachers of that\nage, such as Dion Chrysostom, and the reflections of the infinitely\ncharitable M. Aurelius, leave no very favourable impression of the moral\ncondition of the masses.(1795) How could it be otherwise? The old paganism\nof Rome did indeed foster certain ancestral pieties which were the salt of\nthe Roman character. But it unfortunately also gave its sanction to scenes\nof lust and cruelty which went far to counteract in later times any good\nit did. Nor had the old religion any means for edification and the culture\nof character. It had no organisation for the care and direction of souls\nin moral doubt and peril. If its oracles might, from a few old-world\nexamples, seem to supply such a spiritual want, the appearance is delusive\neven according to pagan testimony. Poets and moralists alike thundered\nagainst the shameless impiety which often begged the sanction of a\nprophetic shrine for some meditated sin,(1796) and the charge has been\nconfirmed by the resurrection of these old profanities from the ruins of\nDodona.(1797) But even without direct testimony, we might fairly conclude\nthat the Antonine Age was, by reason of its material development, in\nspecial need of spiritual teaching and evangelism. The whole stress of\npublic and private effort was towards the provision of comfort or\nsplendour or amusement for the masses. And, within the range of its\nambition, it succeeded marvellously. Nor should an impartial inquirer\nrefuse to admit that such an immense energy has its good moral side. The\nrich were rigorously taught their duty to society, and they improved upon\nthe lesson. The masses responded to their generous public spirit with\ngratitude and affection; and the universal kindliness and fraternity\ndiffused through all ranks on days of high religious festival or civic\ninterest, afforded a very wholesome and gratifying spectacle.(1798) There\nwas an undoubted softening of the Roman character. And the labours of the\ngreat Stoic lawyers were giving expression to cultivated moral feeling, in\na more liberal recognition of the natural rights of the weak and\noppressed, of women and of slaves. Yet a society may be humane and kindly\nwhile it is also worldly and materialised. To us at least, the forces of\nthe Antonine age seem to have expended themselves chiefly on the popular\npleasures and external adornments of life, or a revival, often in the\ngrossest and most absurd forms, as we shall see in a later chapter, of the\nsuperstitions of the past. With all its humanitarian sentiment and all its\nmaterial glories, the Roman world had entered on that fatal incline,\nwhich, by an unperceived yet irresistible movement, led on to the\nsterilisation of the higher intellect, and the petrifaction of Roman\nsociety which ended in the catastrophe of the fifth century.\n\nThe triumphs and splendour of corporate life in the age of the Antonines\nare certainly a dazzling spectacle. Yet to the student who is more\noccupied with the painful moral education of the race, the interest lies\nin a different direction. It was a worldly age, but it was also an age\nennobled by a powerful protest against worldliness. And in this chapter we\nshall study a great movement, which, under the name of philosophy or\nculture, called the masses of men to a higher standard of life. This\nmovement, like all others of the same kind, had its impostors who\ndisgraced it. Yet the man who has pursued them with such mordant ridicule\nand pitiless scorn, the man who was utterly sceptical as to the value of\nall philosophic effort, in the last resort approaches very near to the\nview of human life which was preached by the men whom he derides.(1799)\nLucian belonged to no philosophic school; he would himself have repudiated\nadhesion to any system. The advice of Teiresias to Menippus, when he\nsought him in the shades, would certainly have been Lucian\u2019s to any young\ndisciple who consulted him. Have done with all these verbal subtleties and\nchimeras; swear allegiance to no sect; make the best of the present; and\ntake things generally with a smile.(1800) Yet who can read the _Dialogues\nof the Dead_ without feeling that there is a deeper and more serious vein\nin Lucian than he would confess? Although he poured his contempt upon the\nCynic street preachers, although in the _Auction of Lives_ the Cynic\u2019s\nsells for the most paltry price, the Cynic alone is allowed to carry with\nhim across the river of death his characteristic qualities, his boldness\nand freedom of speech, his bitter laughter at the follies and illusions of\nmankind.(1801) There are many indications in these dialogues that, if\nLucian had turned Cynic preacher, he would have waged the same war on the\npleasures and illusory ambitions of man, he would have outdone the Cynics\nin brutal frankness of exposure and denunciation, as he would have\nsurpassed them in rhetorical and imaginative charm of style.(1802) He has\na vivid and awful conception of Death, the great leveller, and sees all\nearthly wealth and glory in the grey light of the land where all things\nare forgotten. Rank and riches, beauty and strength, the lust of the eye\nand the pride of life, are all left behind on the borders of the realm of\n\u201csapless heads.\u201d(1803) If Lucian has any gospel it is that the kingdom of\nheaven belongs to the poor. He is as ready as some of the Christian\nFathers to condemn the rich eternally.(1804) And therefore we are not\nsurprised that Lucian has little eye for the splendour of his age, unless\nindeed in the phrase, \u201cGreat cities die as well as men.\u201d(1805) He seems to\nhave little appreciation for its real services to humanity. Its vain,\npretentious philosophy, its selfishness of wealth, its vices hidden under\nthe guise of virtue, drew down his hatred and scorn. Yet one cannot help\nfeeling, in reading some of Lucian\u2019s pieces, that, man of genius as he\nwas, a man of no age, or a man of all ages, he is looking at human life\nfrom far above, with no limitations of time, and passing a judgment which\nmay be repeated in the thirtieth century.(1806)\n\nThis lofty or airy detachment in regarding the toils and ambitions of men\nis perhaps best seen in the _Charon_. In this piece Lucian shows us the\nideal spectator taking an outlook over the scene of human life. The\nferryman of the dead, who has heard so many laments from his passengers\nfor the joys they have lost, wishes to have a glance at this upper world\nwhich it seems so hard to leave behind. He joins the company of Hermes,\nand, by an old-world miracle, they gain an observatory on high-piled\nThessalian mountains from which to watch for a while the comedy or the\ntragedy of human life.(1807) A magic verse of Homer gives the spectral\nvisitor the power to observe the scene so far below. And what a sight it\nis! It is a confused spectacle of various effort and passion\u2014men sailing,\nfighting, ploughing, lending at usury, suing in the law-courts. It is also\na human swarm stinging and being stung. And over all the scene flits a\nconfused cloud of hopes and fears and follies and hatreds, the love of\npleasure and the love of gold. Higher still, you may see the eternal Fates\nspinning for each one of the motley crowd his several thread. One man,\nraised high for the moment, has a resounding fall; another, mounting but a\nlittle way, sinks unperceived. And amidst all the tumult and excitement of\ntheir hopes and alarms, death kindly snatches them away by one of his many\nmessengers. Yet they weep and lament, forgetting that they have been mere\nsojourners for a brief space upon earth and are only losing the pleasures\nof a dream.(1808) To Charon the bubbles in a fountain are the truest image\nof their phantom life\u2014some forming and bursting speedily, others swelling\nout for a little longer and more showy life, but all bursting at the last.\nCharon is so moved by the pathos of it all, that, from his mountain peaks,\nhe would fain preach a sermon to the silly crowd and warn them of the doom\nwhich is in store for all. But the wiser or more cynical Hermes tells him\nthat all except a few have their ears more closely stopped than the crew\nof Odysseus when they passed the Siren isles.\n\nThis view of human life, half-contemptuous, half-pathetic, which the great\niconoclast of all the dreams of religion or philosophy in his time has\nsketched with his own graphic power, was the view of the very philosophy\nwhich he derided. Philosophy had a second time turned from heaven to\nearth. The effort to solve the riddle of the universe by a single formula,\nor by the fine-drawn subtleties of dialectic, has been abandoned. In\nLucian\u2019s _Auction of Lives_, in which the merits of the various schools\nare balanced and estimated in terms of cash, it is significant that only a\nslight and perfunctory reference is made to the great cosmic or\nmetaphysical theories of Elea or Ionia, to the Pythagorean doctrine of\nnumbers, to the Ephesian doctrine of the eternal flow, or the ideal system\nof Plato.(1809) We have seen that, although Seneca has a certain interest\nin the logic and physics of the older Stoicism, he makes all purely\nspeculative inquiry ancillary to moral progress. The same diversion of\ninterest from the field of speculation to that of conduct is seen even\nmore decidedly in Epictetus and M. Aurelius.(1810) The philosophic Emperor\nhad, of course, studied the great cosmic systems of Heraclitus and\nEpicurus, Plato and Aristotle.(1811) They furnish a scenery or background,\nsometimes, especially that of Heraclitus, a dimly-seen foundation, for his\ntheory of conduct. But, in spite of his sad, weary view of the pettiness\nand sameness of the brief space of consciousness between \u201cthe two\neternities,\u201d the whole thought of M. Aurelius is concentrated on the\nmanner in which that brief moment may be worthily spent. So, Epictetus\nasks, What do I care whether all things are composed of atoms or similar\nparts or of fire or earth? Is it not enough to know the nature of good and\nevil?(1812) Just as in the days of Socrates the whole stress of philosophy\nis directed towards the discovery of a rule of life, a source of moral\nclearness and guidance, with a view to the formation or reformation of\ncharacter.\n\nSeneca and Epictetus and Lucian and M. Aurelius all alike give a gloomy\npicture of the moral condition of the masses. And we may well believe\nthat, in spite of the splendour of that age, in spite of a great moral\nmovement which was stirring among the leaders of society, the mass of men,\nas in every age, had little taste for idealist views of life. Yet Seneca,\nnotwithstanding his pessimism, speaks of the multitudes who were\nstretching out their hands for moral help. There must have been some\ndemand for that popular moral teaching which is a striking feature of the\ntime. Men might jeer at the philosophic missionary, but they seem to have\ncrowded to listen to him\u2014on the temple steps of Rome or Ephesus, in the\ngreat squares of Alexandria,(1813) or in the colonnades at Olympia, or\nunder the half-ruined walls of an old Milesian colony on the Euxine.(1814)\nThe rush of the porters and smiths and carpenters to join the ranks of the\nCynic friars, which moved the scorn of Lucian,(1815) must have\ncorresponded to some general demand, even if the motive of the vagrant\nmissionary was not of the purest kind. There must have been many an\nexample of moral earnestness like that of Hermotimus, who had laboured\nhard for twenty years to find the true way of life, and had only obtained\na distant glimpse of the celestial city.(1816) After Dion\u2019s conversion, as\nwe may fairly call it, he deems it a sacred duty to call men to the way of\nwisdom by persuasion or reproach, and to appeal even to the turbulent\nmasses.(1817) We shall see how well he fulfilled the duty. For nearly a\ncentury at Athens, the gentle Demonax embodied the ideal which his friend\nEpictetus had formed of the Cynic father of all men in God; and his\nimmense ascendency testifies at least to a widespread respect and\nadmiration for such teaching and example.(1818) It is not necessary to\nsuppose that the people who thought it an honour if Demonax invited\nhimself to their tables, the magistrates who rose up to do him reverence\nas he passed, or the riotous assembly which was awed into stillness by his\nmere presence, were people generally who had caught his moral\nenthusiasm.(1819) They were at the very time eager to have gladiatorial\nshows established under the shadow of the Acropolis. But it is something\nwhen men begin to revere a character inspired by moral forces of which\nthey have only a dim conjecture. And amid all the material splendour and\napparent content of the Antonine age, there were signs that men were\nbecoming conscious of a great spiritual need, which they often tried to\nsatisfy by accumulated superstitions. The ancient routine was broken up;\nthe forms of ancestral piety no longer satisfied even the vulgar; the\nforms of ancient scholastic speculation had become stale and frigid to the\ncultivated; the old philosophies had left men bewildered. Henceforth,\nphilosophy must make itself a religion; the philosopher must become an\n\u201cambassador of God.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no philosophy without virtue; there is no virtue without\nphilosophy,\u201d said Seneca,(1820) and herein he expressed truly the most\nearnest thought of his own age and the next. Lucian, in the dialogue which\nis perhaps his most powerful exposure of the failure of philosophy, bears\ntestimony to the boundless expectations which it aroused in its votaries.\nHermotimus, the elderly enthusiast, whom the mocker meets hurrying with\nhis books to the philosophic school, has been an ardent student for twenty\nyears; he has grown pale and withered with eager thought. Yet he admits\nthat he has only taken a single step on the steep upward road. Few and\nfaint and weary are they who ever reach the summit.(1821) Yet Hermotimus\nis content if, at the close of the efforts of a lifetime, he should, if\nbut for a moment, breathe the air of the far-off heights and look down on\nthe human ant-hill below. Such spirits dream of an apotheosis like that\nwhich crowned the hero on Mount Oeta, when the soul shall be purged of its\nearthly passions as by fire, and hardly a memory of the illusions of the\npast will remain.(1822) Lycinus, his friend, has once himself had a vision\nof a celestial city, from which ambition and the greed of gold are\nbanished, where there is no discord or strife, but the citizens live in a\ndeep peace of sober virtue. He had once heard from an aged man how any one\nmight share its citizenship, rich or poor, bond or free, Greek or\nbarbarian, if only he had the passion for nobleness and were not overcome\nby the hardness of the journey. And the sceptic avows that long since he\nwould have enrolled himself among its citizens, but the city is far off,\nand only dimly visible. The paths which are said to lead to it run in the\nmost various directions, through soft meadows and cool shaded slopes, or\nmounting over bare rough crags under a pitiless blaze. And at the entrance\nto each avenue there is a clamorous crowd of guides, each vaunting his\npeculiar skill, abusing his rivals, and pointing to the one sure access of\nwhich he alone has the secret key. A similar scene, equally illustrative\nof the moral ferment of the time, is sketched in another charming\npiece.(1823) It is that in which the rustic Pan, with his memories of the\nshepherd\u2019s pipe and the peace of Arcadian pastures, describes the strange\nturmoil of contending sects which rings around his cave on the edge of the\nAcropolis. There, in the Agora below, rival teachers, with dripping brow\nand distended veins, are shouting one another down before an admiring\ncrowd. And the simple old deity, to whom the language of their dialectic\nis strange, seems to think that the victory rests with the loudest voice\nand the most blatant self-assertion.\n\nThe sly ridicule of Lucian, so often crossed by a touch of pathos, is\nperhaps the best testimony to the overpowering interest which his age felt\nin the philosophy of conduct. And it was no longer the pursuit merely of\nan intellectual aristocracy. Common, ignorant folk have caught the passion\nfor apostleship. Everywhere might be met the familiar figure, with long\ncloak and staff and scrip, haranguing in the squares or lanes to\nunlettered crowds.(1824) And the preacher is often as unlearned as they,\nhaving left the forge or the carpenter\u2019s bench or the slave prison,(1825)\nto proclaim his simple gospel of renunciation, with more or less\nsincerity. Lucian makes sport of the quarrels and contradictions of the\nschools. And it is true that the old names still marked men off in\ndifferent camps, or rather churches. But their quarrels in Lucian and in\nPhilostratus(1826) seem to be personal, the offspring of very\nunphilosophic ambition and jealousy, or greed or petty vanity, rather than\nthe wholesome and stimulating collision of earnest minds contending for\nwhat they think a great system of truth. The rival Sophists under the\nAcropolis were quarrelling for an audience and not for a dogma. Scientific\ninterest in philosophy was to a great extent dead. For centuries no great\noriginal thinker had arisen to rekindle it. And in the purely moral sphere\nto which philosophy was now confined, the natural tendency of the\ndifferent schools, not even excluding the Epicurean, was to assimilation\nand eclecticism.(1827) They were all impartially endowed at the university\nof Athens, and a youth of enthusiasm would attend the professors of all\nthe schools. Apollonius, although he finally adopted the Pythagorean\ndiscipline, pursued his studies at Aegae under Platonists and\nStoics,(1828) and even under Epicureans. Seneca came under Pythagorean\ninfluences in his youth, and he constantly rounds off a letter to Lucilius\nwith a quotation from Epicurus. Among the tutors of M. Aurelius were the\nPeripatetic Claudius Severus, and Sextus the Platonist of Chaeronea.(1829)\nHence, although a man in the second century might be labelled Platonist or\nStoic, Cynic or Pythagorean, it would often be difficult from his moral\nteaching to discover his philosophic ancestry and affinities. And, just as\nin modern Christendom, although sectarian landmarks and designations are\nkept up, the popular preaching of nearly all the sects tends to a certain\nuniformity of emphasis on a limited number of momentous moral truths, so\nthe preaching of pagan philosophy dwells, almost to weariness, on the same\neternal principles of true gain and loss, of the illusions of passion, of\nfreedom through renunciation.\n\nThe moral teaching or preaching of the Antonine age naturally adapted its\ntone to the tastes of its audience; there was the discourse of the\nlecture-room, and the ruder and more boisterous appeal to the crowd. Both\npassed under the name of philosophy, and both often degraded that great\nname by an affectation and insincerity which cast discredit on a great and\nbeneficent movement of reform. The philosophic lecturer who has a serious\nmoral purpose is in theory distinguished from the rhetorical sophist, who\ntrades in startling effects, who rejoices in displaying his skill on any\nsubject however trivial or grotesque, who will expatiate on the gnat or\nthe parrot, or debate the propriety of a Vestal\u2019s marriage.(1830) The\nexercises of the rhetorical school had gone on for five hundred years,\nand, with momentous effects on Roman culture, they were destined to\ncontinue with little change till the Goths were masters of Rome.(1831) The\ngreed, the frivolity, and the overweening vanity of these intellectual\nacrobats are a commonplace of literary history.(1832) The sophist and the\nlecturing philosopher were theoretically distinct. But unfortunately a\nmass of evidence goes to show that in many cases the lecturing philosopher\nbecame a mere showy rhetorician. A similar desecration of a serious\nmission is not unknown in modern times. The fault is often not with the\npreacher, but with his audience. If people come not to be made better, but\nto be amused, to have their ears soothed by flowing declamation, to have a\nshallow intellectual curiosity titillated by cheap displays of verbal\nsubtlety or novelty, the unfortunate preacher will often descend to the\nlevel of his audience. And in that ancient world, according to the\ntestimony of Seneca, Musonius, Plutarch, and Epictetus, the philosophic\npreacher too often was tempted to win a vulgar applause by vulgar\nrhetorical arts.(1833) He was sometimes a man of no very serious purpose,\nwith little real science or originality. He had been trained in the school\nof rhetoric, which abhorred all serious thought, and deified the master of\nluscious periods and ingenious turns of phrase. He was, besides, too often\na mere vain and mercenary adventurer, trading on an attenuated stock of\nphilosophic tradition, and a boundless command of a versatile rhetoric,\ncultivating intellectual insolence as a fine art, yet with a servile\ncraving for the applause of his audience.(1834) Many a scene in the now\nfaded history of their failures or futile triumphs comes down to us from\nPlutarch and Epictetus and Philostratus.(1835) Sometimes the gaps upon the\nbenches, the listless, inattentive air, the slow feeble applause, sent the\nvain preacher home with gloomy fears for his popularity. On other days, he\nwas lifted to the seventh heaven by an enthusiastic genteel mob, who\nfollowed every deft turn of expression with shouts and gestures of\ndelight, and far-fetched preciosities of approbation. At the close, the\nphilosophic performer goes about among his admirers to receive their\nrenewed tribute. \u201cWell, what did you think of me?\u201d\u2014\u201cQuite marvellous, I\nswear by all that is dear to me.\u201d\u2014\u201cBut how did you like the passage about\nPan and the nymphs?\u201d\u2014\u201cOh, superlative!\u201d It is thus that a real winner of\nsouls describes the impostor.(1836) Even estimable teachers did not\ndisdain to add to the effect of their lectures by carefully polished\neloquence, an exquisite toilet, and a cultivated dignity. Such a courtly\nphilosopher was Euphrates, the Syrian Stoic, whose acquaintance Pliny had\nmade during his term of service in the East. Euphrates was stately and\nhandsome, with flowing hair and beard, and a demeanour which excited\nreverence without overawing the hearer.(1837) Irreproachable in his own\nlife, he condemned sin, but was merciful to the sinner. Pliny, the amiable\nman of the world, who had no serious vices to reform, found Euphrates a\ncharming lecturer, with a subtle and ornate style which was entirely to\nhis taste. He treats Euphrates as a rhetorician rather than as a\nphilosopher with a solemn message to deliver. To serious moralists like\nSeneca, Musonius, Plutarch, and Epictetus the showy professor of the art\nof arts was an offence. With their lofty conception of the task of\npractical philosophy, they could only feel contempt or indignation for the\npolished exquisite who trimmed or inflated his periods to please the ears\nof fashionable audiences. They all condemn such performances in almost\nidentical terms. The mission of true philosophy is to make men examine\nthemselves, to excite shame and pain and penitence, to reveal a law of\nlife and moral freedom which may lead to amendment and peace.(1838) \u201cThere\nis no good in a bath or in a discourse which does not cleanse.\u201d The true\ndisciple and the true teacher will be too much absorbed in the gravity of\nthe business to think of the pleasure of mere style. To make aesthetic\neffect the object of such discourses, when the fate of character is at\nstake, is to turn the school into a theatre or a music-hall, the\nphilosopher into a flute-player.(1839)\n\nThe volume and unanimity of these criticisms of the rhetorical philosopher\nshow that such men abounded; but they also show that there must have been\na great mass of serious teachers whom they travestied. It has perhaps been\ntoo little recognised that in the first and second centuries there was a\ngreat propaganda of pagan morality running parallel to the evangelism of\nthe Church.(1840) The preaching was of very different kinds, according to\nthe character of the audiences. The preachers, as we have said, belonged\nto all the different schools, Stoic or Platonist, Cynic or Pythagorean;\nsometimes, like Dion, they owed little academic allegiance at all.\nSometimes the preaching approached to modern conceptions of its\noffice;(1841) at others, it dealt with subjects and used a style unknown\nto our pulpits.(1842) The life of Apollonius of Tyana may be a romance; it\ncertainly contains many narratives of miracles and wonders which cast a\nsuspicion upon its historical value. Yet even a romance must have real\nfacts behind to give it probability, and the preaching, at least, of\nApollonius seems to belong to the world of reality. Apollonius was\nprobably much nearer to the true ecclesiastic and priest of modern times\nthan any ancient preacher. He had been trained in all the philosophies; he\nhad drunk inspiration from the fountain of all spiritual religion, the\nEast. He was both a mystic and a ritualist. He rejoiced in converse with\nthe Brahmans, and he occupied himself with the revival or reform of the\nritual in countless Greek and Italian temples.(1843) He had an immense and\ncurious faith in ancient legend.(1844) The man who could busy himself with\nthe restoration of the true antique form of an obsolete rite at Eleusis or\nAthens or Dodona, also held conceptions of prayer and sacrifice and mystic\ncommunion with God, which might seem irreconcilable with any rigidly\nformal worship.(1845) The ritualist was also the preacher of a higher\nmorality. From the steps of the temples he used to address great audiences\non their conspicuous faults, as Dion did after him. In the parable of the\nsparrow who by his twitter called his brethren to a heap of spilt grain,\nhe taught the people of Ephesus the duty of brotherly helpfulness.(1846)\nHe found Smyrna torn by factious strife, and he preached a rivalry of\npublic spirit.(1847) Even at Olympia, before a crowd intent on the strife\nof racers and boxers and athletes, he discoursed on wisdom and courage and\ntemperance.(1848) At Rome, under the tyranny of Nero, he moved from temple\nto temple exciting a religious revival by his preaching.(1849) One text,\nperhaps, contains a truth for all generations\u2014\u201cMy prayer before the altars\nis\u2014Grant me, ye Gods, what is my due.\u201d(1850) What effect on the masses\nsuch preaching had we cannot tell\u2014who can tell at any time? But there are\nwell-attested cases of individual conversion under pagan preaching.\nPolemon, the son of a rich Athenian, was a very dissolute youth who\nsquandered his wealth on low pleasure. Once, coming from some revel, he\nburst with his companions into the lecture room of Xenocrates, who\nhappened to be discoursing on temperance. Xenocrates calmly continued his\nremarks. The tipsy youth listened for a while, then flung away his\ngarland, and with it also his evil ways;(1851) he became the head of the\nAcademy. A similar change was wrought by the teaching of Apollonius on a\ndebauched youth of Corcyra, which we need not doubt although it was\naccompanied by a miracle.(1852)\n\nMusonius, another preacher, was a younger contemporary of Apollonius. His\nfame as an apostle of the philosophic life aroused the suspicions of Nero,\nand he was exiled to Gyarus.(1853) The suspicion may have been confirmed\nby his intimacy with Rubellius Plautus and great Stoics like\nThrasea.(1854) He met with gentler treatment under the Flavians,(1855) and\nhe probably saw the reign of Trajan. He is not known to have written\nanything. The fragments of his teaching in Stobaeus are probably drawn\nfrom notes of his lectures, as the teaching of Epictetus has been\npreserved by Arrian. Musonius is not a speculative philosopher but a\nphysician of souls. Philosophy is the way to goodness: goodness is the\ngoal of philosophy. And philosophy is not the monopoly of an intellectual\ncaste; it is a matter of precept and practice, not of theory. The true\nmoral teacher, working on the germ of virtue which there is in each human\nsoul, thinking only of reforming his disciples, and nothing of applause,\nmay win them to his ideal. Musonius fortified the austere Stoic and Cynic\nprecepts by the ascetic discipline of the Pythagorean school. He taught\nthe forgiveness of injuries and gentleness to wrongdoers. He is one of the\nfew in the ancient world who have a glimpse of a remote ideal of sexual\nvirtue. While his ascetic principles do not lead him to look askance at\nhonourable marriage, he denounces all unchastity, and demands equal virtue\nin man and woman.(1856) He was, according to Epictetus, a searching\npreacher. He spoke to the conscience, so that each hearer felt as if his\nown faults were set before his eyes. His name will go down for ever in the\npages of Tacitus. When the troops of Vespasian and Vitellius were fighting\nin the lanes and gardens under the walls of Rome, Musonius joined the\nenvoys of the Senate, and at the risk of his life harangued the infuriated\nsoldiery on the blessings of peace and the horrors of civil war.(1857)\nMany of the moral treatises of Plutarch are probably redacted from notes\nof lectures delivered in Rome. As we shall see in a later chapter,\nPlutarch is rather a moral director and theologian than a preacher. But\nhis wide knowledge of human nature, his keen analysis of character and\nmotive and human weakness, his spiritual discernment in discovering\nremedies and sources of strength, above all his lofty moral ideal, would\nhave made him a powerful preacher in any age of the world. But it is in\nthe discourses of Maximus of Tyre that we have perhaps the nearest\napproach in antiquity to our conception of the sermon. Probably if any of\nus were asked to explain that conception, he might say that a sermon was\nfounded on some definite idea of the relation of man to the Infinite\nSpirit, that its object was, on the one hand, to bring man into communion\nwith God, and, on the other, to teach him his duty to his fellowmen and to\nhimself. The discourses of Maximus have all these characteristics. Maximus\nof Tyre is little known now, and although to the historian of thought and\nmoral life he is attractive, he has not the strength of a great\npersonality. Yet, along with Plutarch, he shows us paganism at its best,\nstriving to reform itself, groping after new sources of spiritual\nstrength, trying to wed new and purer spiritual ideals to the worn-out\nmythology of the past. Maximus is very much in the position of one of our\ndivines who finds himself bound in duty to edify the spiritual life of his\nflock, without disowning the religious traditions of the past, and without\nrefusing to accept the ever-broadening revelation of God. Some of his\ndiscourses may seem to us frigid and scholastic, with a literary rather\nthan a religious interest. But in others, there is a combination of a\nsystematic theology with a mystic fervour and a moral purpose, which seems\nhardly to belong to the ancient world.(1858)\n\nIn his oration to the Alexandrians,(1859) Dion Chrysostom speaks with\nunwonted asperity of the Cynics, haranguing with coarse buffoonery a\ngaping crowd in the squares and alleys or in the porches of the temples.\nHe thinks that these men are doing no good, but rather bringing the name\nof philosophy into contempt. It is hardly necessary to remind the reader\nthat this view of the Cynic profession was very general in that age. The\nvulgar Cynic, with his unkempt beard, his mantle, wallet, and staff, his\nfilth and rudeness and obscenity, insulting every passer-by with insolent\nquestions, exchanging coarse jests and jeers with the vagabond mob which\ngathers at his approach, is the commonest figure in Greek and Roman\nliterature of the time. The \u201cmendicant monks\u201d of paganism have been\npainted with all the vices of the dog and ape by Martial and Petronius and\nSeneca, by Dion and Athenaeus and Alciphron and Epictetus, above all by\nLucian.(1860) The great foe of all extravagance or enthusiasm in religion\nand philosophy fastened on the later followers of Diogenes with peculiar\nbitterness. His hostility, we may surmise, is directed not against their\ntenets, but their want of decent culture. In the _Banquet_, the Cynic\nAlcidamas is drawn with a coarse vigour of touch which is intended to\nmatch the coarseness of the subject. He bursts into the dinner-party of\nAristaenetus uninvited, to the terror of the company, ranges about the\nroom, snatching tit-bits from the dishes as they pass him, and finally\nsinks down upon the floor beside a mighty flagon of strong wine. He drinks\nto the bride in no elegant fashion, challenges the jester to fight, and,\nwhen the lamp is extinguished in the obscene tumult, is finally found\ntrying to embrace the dancing girl.(1861) But Lucian\u2019s bitterest attack on\nthe class is perhaps delivered in the dialogue entitled the _Fugitives_.\nPhilosophy, in the form of a woman bathed in tears, appears before the\nFather of the gods. That kindly potentate is affected by her grief, and\ninquires the cause of it. Philosophy, who had been commissioned by Zeus to\nbring healing and peace to human life in all its confusion and ignorance\nand violence, then unfolds the tale of her wrongs.(1862) It is a picture\nof vulgar pretence, by which her fair name has been besmirched and\ndisgraced. Observing the love and reverence which her true servants may\nwin from men, a base crew of ignorant fellows, trained in the lowest\nhandicrafts, have forsaken them, to assume the garb and name of her real\nfollowers.(1863) It is a pleasant change from a life of toil and danger\nand hardship, to an easy vagabond existence, nor is the transformation\ndifficult. A cloak and a club, a loud voice and a brazen face and a\ncopious vocabulary of scurrilous abuse, these are all the necessary\nequipment. Impudent assurance has its usual success with the crowd, who\nare unable to see through the disguise. If any one attempts to challenge\nthe claims of the impostors, he is answered with a blow or a taunt. And\nthus by terrorism or deceit, they usurp the respect which is due to the\nreal philosopher, and manage to live in plenty and even in luxury. Nor is\nthis the worst. For these pretended ascetics, who profess to scorn\ndelights, and to endure all manner of hardness, are really coarse common\nsensualists, who go about corrupting and seducing. Many of them heap up a\nfortune in their wanderings, and then bid farewell to scrip and cloak and\nthe tub of Diogenes. And so plain unlearned men come to regard the very\nname of philosophy with hatred and contempt, and all her work is undone,\nlike another Penelope\u2019s web.(1864)\n\nEven the stoutest defender of the Cynic movement, as a whole, feels\nconstrained to admit that the charges against the Cynics were, perhaps, in\nmany cases, true.(1865) It was a movement peculiarly attractive to the\nlawless, restless hangers-on of society, who found in an open defiance of\nsocial restraints and a wandering existence, a field of licence and a\nchance of gain. Some of the great Cynics, indeed, were interested in\nphysical speculation, and were widely cultivated men.(1866) But the Cynic\nmovement, as a whole, rested on no scientific tradition, and the most\nserious and effective preacher of its doctrine needed only a firm hold of\na few simple truths, with a command of seizing and incisive phrase.(1867)\nThere was no professional barrier to exclude the ignorant and corrupt\npretender. For the Cynics, from the very nature of their mission and their\naims, never formed an organised school or society. Each went his own way\nin complete detachment. To the superficial observer, the only common bond\nand characteristic were the purely external marks of dress and rough\nbearing and ostentatious contempt for the most ordinary comforts and\ndecencies of life, which could easily be assumed by the knave and the\nlibertine. Hence, as time went on, although good Cynics, like Demonax or\nDemetrius, acquired a deserved influence, yet the greed, licentiousness,\nand brutal violence of others brought great discredit on the name.\nEpictetus, who had a lofty ideal of the Cynic preacher as an ambassador of\nGod, lays bare the coarse vices of the pretender to that high service with\nan unsparing hand.(1868) It is evident, however, that certain of the\ngravest imputations, which had been developed by prurient imaginations,\nwere, by an unwholesome tradition, levelled at even the greatest and best\nof the Cynics.(1869) And S. Augustine, in referring to these foul charges,\naffirms, with an honourable candour, that they could not be truly made\nagainst the Cynics of his own day.(1870) Moreover, the Roman nature never\ntook very kindly, even in some of the cultivated circles, to anything\nunder the name of philosophy.(1871) Even M. Aurelius could not altogether\ndisarm the suspicion with which it was regarded. And the revolt of Avidius\nCassius was to some extent an outburst of impatience with the doctrinaire\nspirit of the _philosopha anicula_, as Cassius dared to call him.(1872)\nAnd there were many things in the Cynic movement which specially tended to\nprovoke the ordinary man. It threw down the gauntlet to a materialised\nage. It preached absolute renunciation of all social ties and duties, and\nof all the pleasures and refinements with which that society had\nsurrounded itself. In an age which, even on its tomb-stones, bears the\nstamp of a starched conventionality and adherence to use and wont, the\nCynic was a defiant rebel against all social restraints. In an age which\nwas becoming ever more superstitious, he did not shrink from attacking the\nfaith in the gods, the efficacy of the mysteries, the credit of the most\nancient oracles.(1873) And, finally, while philosophy in general after\nDomitian found support and patronage at the imperial court, no emperor\ngave his countenance to the Cynics till the Syrian dynasty of the third\ncentury.(1874) We have here surely a sufficient accumulation of reasons\nfor hesitating to accept the wholesale condemnation of a class of men who,\ninstead of disarming opposition, rather plumed themselves on provoking it.\n\nA good example of the merciless, and not altogether scrupulous fashion in\nwhich the Cynics were handled by contemporaries is to be found in Lucian\u2019s\npiece on the death of Peregrinus.(1875) Peregrinus was a native of Parium\non the Propontis, and a man of fortune. He loved to call himself Proteus,\nand, indeed, the strange vicissitudes of his career justified his\nassumption of the name.(1876) On reaching manhood, he wandered from land\nto land, and in Palestine he joined a Christian brotherhood, in which he\nrose to a commanding influence, which drew down the suspicion of the\ngovernment, and he was thrown for a time into prison.(1877) His\npersecution called forth, as Lucian ungrudgingly admits, all the fearless\nlove and charity of the worshippers of \u201cthe crucified Sophist.\u201d Released\nby a philosophic governor of the type of Gallio, he gave up the remnant of\nhis paternal property, amounting to fifteen talents, to his native\ncity.(1878) Peregrinus had already assumed the peculiar dress of the\nCynic, and set out on fresh wanderings, having, from some difference on a\npoint of ritual, severed his connection with the Christian brotherhood. He\nthen came under the influence of an Egyptian ascetic and of the mysticism\nof the East. In a visit to Italy he acquired celebrity by his fierce\ninvectives, which did not spare even the blameless and gentle Antoninus\nPius.(1879) The Emperor himself paid little heed to him, but the prefect\nof the city thought that Rome could well spare such a philosopher, and\nPeregrinus was obliged to return to the East. Henceforth Greece, and\nespecially Elis, was the scene of his labours. He abated none of his\nenergy, dealing out his denunciations impartially, and not sparing even\nthe philosophic millionaire Herodes Atticus for providing the visitors to\nOlympia with the luxury of pure water.(1880) He even tried to stir up\nGreece to armed revolt. His fame and power among the Cynic brotherhood\nwere at their height, or perhaps beginning to wane, when he conceived the\nidea of electrifying the world and giving a demonstration of the triumph\nof philosophy even over death by a self-immolation at Olympia. There,\nbefore the eyes of men gathered from all quarters, like Heracles, the\ngreat Cynic exemplar, on Mount Oeta, he resolved to depart in the blaze\nand glory of the funeral pyre kindled by his own hand. And perhaps some\nrare lettered Cynic brother set afloat a Sibylline verse, such as abounded\nin those days, bidding men prepare to revere another hero, soon to be\nenthroned along with Heracles in the broad Olympus.\n\nSuch a career, ambiguous, perhaps, on the most charitable construction,\nattracted the eye of the man who sincerely believed, under all his\npersiflage, that both the religion and the philosophy of the past were\nworn out, and were now being merely exploited by coarse adventurers for\ngain or ambition. Moreover, the Philoctetes of the Cynic Heracles, his\npupil Theagenes, was attracting great audiences in the Gymnasium of Trajan\nat Rome.(1881) The self-martyrdom of their chief had given a fresh\ninspiration to the Cynic brotherhood. Who knows but a legend may gather\nround his name, altars may be raised to him, and the ancient glamour of\nthe \u201cflashing Olympus\u201d will lend itself to glorify the uncultivated crew\nwho profane the name of philosophy, and are an offence to culture?\n\nThere is no mistaking the cold merciless spirit in which Lucian, by his\nown avowal, addressed himself to the task of exposing what he genuinely\nbelieved to be a feigned enthusiasm. Even the lover of Lucian receives a\nkind of shock from the occasional tone of almost cruel hardness in his\ntreatment of the Cynic apostle. When Lucian\u2019s narrative of the youthful\nenormities of Peregrinus is analysed, it is perceived that the accuser is\nanonymous, and that other names and particulars are carefully\nsuppressed.(1882) For the gravest charges of youthful depravity no proof\nor authority is given; they seem to be the offspring of that prurient\ngossip which can assail any character. They are the charges which were\nfreely bandied about in the age of Pericles and M. Aurelius, in the age of\nErasmus and the age of Milton. There must have been something at least\nremarkable and fascinating, although marred by extravagance,(1883) about\nthe man who became a great leader and prophet among the Christians of\nPalestine, and who was almost worshipped as a god. When he was thrown into\njail, their widows and orphans watched by the gates; his jailers were\nbribed to admit some of the brethren to console his solitude; large sums\nwere collected from the cities of Asia for his support and defence.(1884)\nThe surrender of his paternal property to his native city, an act of\ngenerosity which had many parallels in that age, is attributed to no\nhigher motive than the wish to hush up a rumour that Peregrinus had\nmurdered his father. The charge apparently rested on nothing more\nsubstantial than malignant gossip.(1885) The migration of Peregrinus from\nthe Christian to the Cynic brotherhood was not so startling in that age as\nit may appear to us. Transitions to and fro were not uncommon between\nsocieties which had the common bond of asceticism and contempt for the\nworld.(1886) Moreover, Lucian, with all his delicate genius, had little\npower of understanding the force of religious enthusiasm. It is pretty\nclear that Peregrinus was not an ordinary Cynic; he had felt the spell of\nOriental and Pythagorean mysticism. His Cynicism was probably tinctured\nwith a religion of the same type as that of Apollonius of Tyana.(1887) And\nit is his failure to appreciate the fervour of this mystical elation in\nPeregrinus and his disciples which misled Lucian, and makes his narrative\nmisleading.\n\nLucian suggests that, when he visited Olympia for the fourth time, he\nfound that the influence of Peregrinus was on the wane.(1888) Yet even\nfrom Lucian\u2019s own narrative it is clear that Peregrinus and his doings\nwere attracting almost as much attention as the games. On Lucian\u2019s\narrival, the first thing he heard was a rumour that the great Cynic had\nresolved to die upon a flaming pyre, like the hero who was the mythic\npatron of the school. Peregrinus professed that by his self-immolation he\nwas going to teach men, in the most impressive way, to make light of\ndeath. And many a Cynic sermon was evidently delivered on the subject, the\ngreatest preacher being Theagenes, for whom Lucian displays a particular\naversion. There were, of course, many sceptics like Lucian himself. And it\nis in the mouth of one of these enemies of the sect, in reply to\nTheagenes, that Lucian has put the defamatory version of the life of\nPeregrinus,(1889) to which we have referred.\n\nLucian assumes from the first that the self-martyrdom of Peregrinus was\nprompted by mere vulgar love of notoriety.(1890) Yet it is quite possible\nthat this is an unfair judgment. The Stoic school, with which the Cynics\nhad such a close affinity, allowed that, in certain circumstances, suicide\nmight be not only a permissible, but a meritorious, nay, even a glorious\nact of self-liberation.(1891) Seneca had often looked gladly to it as the\never open door of escape from ignominy or torture. The brilliant Stoic\nEuphrates, the darling of Roman society, weary of age and disease, sought\nand obtained the permission of Hadrian to drink the hemlock.(1892) And\nthat emperor himself, in his last sickness, begged the drug from his\nphysician who killed himself to escape compliance.(1893) Diogenes had\nhanded the dagger to his favourite pupil, Antisthenes, when tortured by\ndisease.(1894) The burden of the Cynic preaching was the nothingness of\nthe things of sense and contempt for death. Is it not possible that what\nLucian heard from the lips of Peregrinus himself was true, and that he\nwished, it may be with mingled motives, by his own act to show men how to\ntreat with indifference the last terror of humanity?\n\nThat the end of Peregrinus was surrounded by superstition and magnified by\ngrandiose effects is more than probable. Such things belonged to the\nspirit of the age. And the calm, critical good sense of Lucian, which had\nno sympathy with these weaknesses, saw nothing in the scene but\ncalculating imposture. Already oracles were circulating in which\nPeregrinus appears as the ph\u0153nix, rising unscathed and rejuvenescent from\nthe pyre, predicting that he is to be a guardian spirit of the night, that\naltars will rise in his honour, and that he will perform miracles of\nhealing. Theagenes blazed abroad a Sibylline verse which bade men, \u201cwhen\nthe greatest of the Cynics has come to lofty Olympus, to honour the\nnight-roaming hero who is enthroned beside Hephaestus and the princely\nHector.\u201d(1895) Lucian found himself wedged in a dense crowd who came to\nhear the last apology of the Cynic apostle. Some were applauding, and some\ndenouncing him as an impostor. Lucian could hear little in the mel\u00e9e. But\nnow and then, above the roar, he could hear the pale, tremulous old man\ntell the surging crowd that, having lived like Heracles, he must die like\nHeracles, and mingle with the ether, \u201cbringing a golden life to a golden\nclose.\u201d(1896) Lucian thought his paleness was due to terror at the\nnearness of his self-imposed death. It was more probably the result of\nascetic fervour and overstrained excitement. The spectacle sent Lucian\naway in a fit of rather cruel laughter.(1897)\n\nThe closing scene, which took place two or three miles from Olympia, was\nordered with solemn religious effect. It evidently impressed even the\nsceptic\u2019s imagination. A high pyre had been prepared, with torches and\nfaggots ready. As the moon rose, the voluntary victim appeared in the garb\nof his sect, surrounded by his leading disciples. He then disrobed\nhimself, flung incense on the flame, and, turning to the south, cried\naloud\u2014\u201cDaemons of my father and my mother graciously receive me.\u201d After\nthese words, he leapt into the blaze which at once enveloped him, and he\nwas seen no more.(1898) The Cynic brothers stood long gazing into the pyre\nin silent grief, until Lucian aroused their anger by some jeers, not,\nperhaps, in the best taste. On his way back to Olympia, he pondered on the\nfollies of men, and the craving for empty fame.(1899) To Lucian there was\nnothing more in the tragic scene than that. And he amused himself by the\nway with the creation of a myth, and watching how it would grow. To some\nwho met him on the road, too late for the spectacle, he told how, as the\npyre burst into flame, there was a great earthquake accompanied by\nsubterranean thunder, and a vulture rose from the fire, proclaiming in a\nhigh human voice, as it winged its way heavenwards, \u201cI have left earth\nbehind, and I go to Olympus.\u201d(1900) The poor fools, on whose credulity\nLucian was rather heartlessly playing, with a shudder of awe fell to\nquestioning him whether the bird flew to the east or the west. And, on his\nreturn to Olympia, he was rewarded in the way he liked best, by finding\nthe tale which he had cradled already full grown. A venerable man, whom he\nencountered, related that with his own eyes he had seen the vulture rising\nfrom the pyre, and added that he had just met Peregrinus himself walking\nin the \u201cseven-voiced cloister,\u201d clothed in white raiment, and with a\nchaplet of olive on his head.(1901)\n\nLucian\u2019s picture of the death of Peregrinus, whatever we may think of its\nfairness and discernment, is immensely valuable for many things besides\nthe light which it casts on Lucian\u2019s attitude to all forms of extravagance\nand superstition. In spite of his contempt for them, he himself reveals\nthat the Cynics were a great popular force. We see also that Cynicism was,\nin spite of its generally deistic spirit, sometimes leagued with real or\naffected religious sentiment. As to the real character of Peregrinus,\nthere is reason to believe that Lucian did not read it aright. The\nimpression which the Cynic made on Aulus Gellius was very different. When\nGellius was at Athens in his student days, he used often to visit\nPeregrinus, who was then living in a little hut in the suburbs, and he\nfound the Cynic\u2019s discourses profitable and high-toned. In particular,\nPeregrinus used to tell his hearers that the chance of apparent evasion or\nconcealment would never tempt the wise man to sin. Concealment was really\nimpossible, for, in the words of Sophocles, \u201cTime, the all-seeing, the\nall-hearing, lays bare all secrets.\u201d Evidently Peregrinus had other\nadmirers besides the Cynic brethren who hailed his apotheosis at\nOlympia.(1902) Who can draw the line, in such an age, between the fanatic\nand the impostor?\n\nThe bitterness with which Lucian assails the Cynics of his day, while it\nwas justified by the scandalous morals of a certain number, is also a\ntestimony to the world-wide influence of the sect. The ranks of these rude\nfield-preachers would not have attracted so many impostors if the\nprofession had not commanded great power and influence over the masses.\nThe older Cynicism, which sprang from the simpler and more popular aspect\nof the Socratic teaching, had long disappeared. Its place was taken by the\nStoic system, which gave a broad and highly elaborated scientific basis to\nthe doctrine of the freedom and independence of the virtuous will. The\nrules of conduct were deduced from a well-articulated theory of the\nuniverse and human nature, and they were expounded with all the dexterity\nof a finished dialectic. The later Stoicism, as we have seen, like the\nother schools, tended to neglect theory, in the effort to form the\nvirtuous character\u2014a tendency which is seen at its height in Musonius and\nEpictetus. But, as Stoicism became less scientific, it inclined to return\nmore and more to the spirit and method of the older Cynicism. The true,\nearnest Cynic seems to be almost the philosophic ideal of Epictetus. Thus\nit was that, in the first century after Christ, Cynicism emerged from its\nlong obscurity to take up the part of a rather one-sided popular Stoicism.\nIt was really pointed or sensational preaching of a few great moral\ntruths, common to all the schools, which the condition of society urgently\ncalled for.(1903)\n\nThe ideal of the Cynic life has been painted with gentle enthusiasm by\nEpictetus.(1904) The true Cynic is a messenger from Zeus, to tell men that\nthey have wandered far from the right way, that they are seeking happiness\nin regions where happiness is not to be found. It is not to be found in\nthe glory of consulships, or in the Golden House of Nero.(1905) It lies\nclose to us, yet in the last place where we ever seek it, in ourselves, in\nthe clear vision of the ruling faculty, in freedom from the bondage to\nimagined good, to the things of sense.(1906) This preaching was also to be\npreaching by example. The gospel of renunciation has been discredited from\nage to age when it has come from the lips of a man lapped in downy\ncomfort, who never gave up anything in his life, and who indolently points\nhis flock to the steep road which he never means to tread with his own\nfeet. But the Cynic of Epictetus, with a true vocation, could point to\nhimself, without home or wife or children, without a city, without\npossessions, having forsaken all for moral freedom.(1907) He has done it\nat the call of God, not from mere caprice, or a fancy to wander lawlessly\non the outskirts of society.(1908) He has done it because the condition of\nthe world demands such stern self-restraint in the chief who would save\nthe discipline of an army engaged in desperate battle. It is a combat like\nthe Olympian strife which he has to face, and woe to him who enters the\nlists untrained and unprepared.(1909) The care of wife and children is not\nfor one who has laid upon him the care of the family of man, who has to\nconsole and admonish, and guide them into the right way.(1910) All worldly\nloves and entanglements must be put aside by one who claims to be the \u201cspy\nand herald of God.\u201d The Cynic is the father of all men; the men are his\nsons, the women his daughters.(1911) When he rebukes them, it is as a\nfather in God, a minister of Zeus. Nor may he take a part in the\ngovernment of any earthly state, which is a petty affair in comparison\nwith the ministry with which he is charged. How should he meddle with the\nadministration of Athens or Corinth, who has to deal with the moral\nfortunes of the whole commonwealth of man.(1912) Possessing in himself the\nsecret of happiness and woe, he never descends into the vulgar contest,\nwhere he may be overcome by the vilest and poorest spirits, for objects\nwhich he has trained himself to regard as absolutely indifferent or\nworthless. And so, he is proof against the spitefulness of fortune and the\nbaseness or violence of man. He will calmly suffer blows or insults as\nsent by Zeus, just as Heracles bore cheerfully and triumphantly the toils\nwhich were laid on him by Eurystheus. The true Cynic will even love those\nwho buffet and insult him.(1913) He will also resemble his patron hero in\nthe fresh comely strength of his body, which is the gift of temperance and\nlong days passed under the open sky.(1914) Above all, he will have a\nconscience clearer than the sun, so that, at peace with himself and having\nassurance of the friendship of the gods, he may be able to speak with all\nboldness to his brothers and his children.(1915) This was the kind of\nmoral ministry which was needed by the age, and, in spite of both\nundeserved calumny, and the real shame of many corrupt impostors in its\nranks, the missionary movement of Cynicism was one of undoubted power and\nrange. The resemblance, in many points, of the Cynics to the early\nChristian monks and ascetics has been often noticed, and men sometimes\npassed from the one camp to the other without any violent wrench.(1916)\nThe rhetor Aristides, in a fierce attack on the Cynic sect, makes it a\nreproach that they have much in common with \u201cthe impious in Palestine.\u201d\nTatian, and others of the Gnostic ascetics, were in close connection with\nleading Cynics.(1917) How easily they were absorbed into the bosom of the\nChurch we can see from the tale of Maximus, an Egyptian Cynic of the\nfourth century, who continued to wear the distinctive marks of the\nphilosophic brotherhood, till he was installed as bishop of\nConstantinople.(1918) And the contemporary eulogies of Cynic virtue by\nJohn Chrysostom and Themistius testify at once to the importance of a\nmovement the strength of which was not spent till after the fall of the\nWestern Empire, and to its affinities for the kindred movement of\nChristian asceticism.\n\nThese \u201cambassadors of God,\u201d as they claimed to be, cared little, like S.\nPaul, for \u201cthe wisdom of the world,\u201d or for the figments of the poets, and\nthose great cosmic theories which enabled Seneca to sustain or rekindle\nhis moral faith. With rare exceptions, such as Oenomaus of Gadara, they\nseldom committed their ideas to writing.(1919) For the serried dialectic\nof the Stoics they substituted the sharp biting epigram and lively\nrepartee, in which even the gentle Demonax indulged.(1920) Demetrius, who\nsaw the reigns of both Caligula and Domitian,(1921) was a man of real\npower and distinction. He was revered by Seneca as a moral teacher of\nremarkable influence, \u201ca great man even if compared with the\ngreatest,\u201d(1922) who lived up to the severest counsels which he addressed\nto others. He would bear cold and nakedness and hard lodging with cheerful\nfortitude, he was a man whom not even the age of Nero could corrupt. His\npoverty was genuine, and he would never beg.(1923) He set little store by\nphilosophical theory, in comparison with diligent application of a few\ntried and well-conned precepts.(1924) Yet he had the brand of culture, and\nonce, when his taste was offended by a bad, tactless reader, who was\nruining a passage in the _Bacchae_, he snatched the book from his hands\nand tore it in pieces.(1925) Although he disdained the trimmed, artificial\neloquence of the schools, he had the fire and impetus of the true\norator.(1926) With little taste for abstract musings, he consoled the last\nhours of Thrasea in prison with a discourse on the nature of the soul and\nthe mystery of its severance from the body at death.(1927) He formed a\nclose alliance for a time with that roaming hierophant of philosophy,\nApollonius of Tyana, the bond between them being probably a common\nasceticism and a common hatred of the imperial tyranny.(1928) For\nDemetrius, if not a revolutionary, was a leader of the philosophic\nopposition, which assailed the emperors, not so much in their political\ncapacity, as because they too often represented and stimulated the moral\nlawlessness and materialism of the age. Our sympathies must be with\nDemetrius when he boldly faced the dangerous scowl of Nero with the _mot_,\n\u201cYou threaten me with death, but nature threatens you.\u201d(1929) But our\nsympathies will be rather with Vespasian, the plain old soldier, who, when\nDemetrius openly insulted him, treated the \u201cCynic bark\u201d with quiet\ncontempt.(1930) In truth, the Flavian emperors, till the expulsion of the\nphilosophers by Domitian, seem to have been on the whole indulgent to the\noutspoken freedom of the Cynics.(1931) Occasionally, however, the daring\ncensor had, in the interests of authority, to be restrained. Once, when\nTitus was in the theatre, with the Jewess Berenice by his side, a Cynic,\nbearing the name of the founder of the sect, gave voice in a long bitter\noration to popular feeling against what was regarded as a shameful union.\nThis Cynic John the Baptist, got off with a scourging.(1932) A comrade\nnamed Heros, however, repeated the offensive expostulation, and lost his\nhead. Peregrinus, for a similar attack on Antoninus Pius, was quietly\nwarned by the prefect to leave the precincts of Rome. In the third century\nthere was a great change in the political fortunes and attitude of the\nsect; Cynics are even found basking in imperial favour, and lending their\nsupport to the imperial power.(1933)\n\nThe Cynics, from the days of Antisthenes, had poured contempt on the\npopular religion and the worship of material images of the Divine. They\nwere probably the purest monotheists that classical antiquity\nproduced.(1934) Demetrius is almost Epicurean in his belief in eternal\nFate, and his contempt for the wavering wills and caprices which\nmythological fancy ascribed to the Olympian gods.(1935) Demonax, the\nmildest and most humane member of the school in imperial times, refused to\noffer sacrifices or even to seek initiation in the Mysteries of\nEleusis.(1936) When he was impeached for impiety before the Athenian\ncourts, he replied that, as for sacrifices, the Deity had no need of them,\nand that touching the Mysteries, he was in this dilemma: if they contained\na revelation of what was good for men, he must in duty publish it; if they\nwere bad and worthless, he would feel equally bound to warn the people\nagainst the deception. But the most fearless and trenchant assailant of\nthe popular theology among the Cynics was Oenomaus of Gadara, in the reign\nof Hadrian.(1937) Oenomaus rejected, with the frankest scorn, the\nanthropomorphic fables of heathenism. In particular, he directed his\nfiercest attacks against the revival of that faith in oracles and\ndivination which was a marked characteristic of the Antonine age.\nPlutarch, in a charming walk round the sights of Delphi, in which he acts\nas cicerone, describes a Cynic named Didymus as assailing the influence of\noracles on human character.(1938) But Oenomaus, as we know him from\nEusebius, was a far more formidable and more pitiless iconoclast than\nDidymus. He constructed an elaborate historical demonstration to show that\nthe oracles were inspired neither by the gods nor by daemons, but were a\nvery human contrivance to dupe the credulous. And in connection with the\nsubject of oracles, he dealt with the question of free-will, and asserted\nman\u2019s inalienable liberty, and the responsibility for all his actions\nwhich is the necessary concomitant of freedom. Oenomaus treated Dodona and\nDelphi with such jaunty disrespect that, at the distance of a century and\na half, his memory aroused the anger of Julian to such a degree, that the\nimperial champion of paganism could hardly find words strong enough to\nexpress his feelings.(1939) Oenomaus is a wretch who is cutting at the\nroots, not only of all reverence for divine things, but of all those moral\ninstincts implanted in our souls by God, which are the foundation of all\nright conduct and justice. For such fellows no punishment could be too\nsevere; they are worse than brigands and wreckers.(1940)\n\nThe resolute rejection of the forms of popular worship, and of the claims\nof divination, is hardly less marked in the mild and tolerant\nDemonax.(1941) Demonax, whose life extended probably from 50 to 150\nA.D.,(1942) sprang from a family in Cyprus of some wealth and distinction,\nand had a finished literary culture.(1943) But he had conceived from\nchildhood a passion for the philosophic life, according to the ideal of\nthat age. His teachers were Cynics or Stoics, but in speculative opinion\nhe was broadly Eclectic. In his long life he had associated with Demetrius\nand Epictetus, Apollonius and Herodes Atticus.(1944) When asked once who\nwas his favourite philosopher, he replied that he reverenced Socrates,\nadmired Diogenes, and loved Aristippus.(1945) His tone had perhaps the\ngreatest affinity for the simplicity of the Socratic teaching. But he did\nnot adopt the irony of the master, which, if it was a potent arm of\ndialectic, often left the subject of it in an irritated and humiliated\nmood. Demonax was a true Cynic in his contempt for ordinary objects of\ngreed and ambition,(1946) in the simple, austere fashion of his daily\nlife, and in the keen epigrammatic point, often, to our taste, verging on\nrudeness, with which he would expose pretence and rebuke any kind of\nextravagance.(1947) But although he cultivated a severe bodily discipline,\nso as to limit to the utmost his external wants, he carefully avoided any\nostentatious singularity of manner to win a vulgar notoriety. He had an\ninfinite charity for all sorts of men, excepting only those who seemed\nbeyond the hope of amendment.(1948) His counsels were given with an Attic\ngrace and brightness which sent people away from his company cheered and\nimproved, and hopeful for the future. Treating error as a disease incident\nto human nature, he attacked the sin, but was gentle to the sinner.(1949)\nHe made it his task to compose the feuds of cities and to stimulate\nunselfish patriotism; he reconciled the quarrels of kinsmen; he would, on\noccasion, chasten the prosperous, and comfort the failing and unfortunate,\nby reminding both alike of the brief span allotted to either joy or\nsorrow, and the long repose of oblivion which would soon set a term to all\nthe agitations of sorrow or of joy.(1950)\n\nBut there was another side to his teaching. Demonax was no supple,\neasy-going conformist to usages which his reason rejected. Early in his\ncareer, as has been said, he had to face a prosecution before the\ntribunals of Athens, because he was never seen to sacrifice to the gods,\nand declined initiation at Eleusis. In each case, he defended his\nnonconformity in the boldest tone.(1951) To a prophet whom he saw plying\nhis trade for hire, he put the dilemma: \u201cIf you can alter the course of\ndestiny, why do you not demand higher fees? If everything happens by the\ndecree of God, where is the value of your art?\u201d(1952) When asked if he\nbelieved the soul to be immortal, he answered, \u201cIt is as immortal as\neverything else.\u201d(1953) He derided, in almost brutal style, the effeminacy\nof the sophist Favorinus, and the extravagant grief of Herodes Atticus for\nhis son.(1954) He ruthlessly exposed the pretences of sham philosophy\nwherever he met it. When a youthful Eclectic professed his readiness to\nobey any philosophic call, from the Academy, the Porch, or the Pythagorean\ndiscipline of silence, Demonax cried out, \u201cPythagoras calls you.\u201d(1955) He\nrebuked the pedantic archaism of his day by telling an affected stylist\nthat he spoke in the fashion of Agamemnon\u2019s time.(1956) When Epictetus\nadvised him to marry and become the father of a line of philosophers, he\nasked the celibate preacher to give him one of his daughters.(1957) The\nAthenians, from a vulgar jealousy of Corinth, proposed to defile their\nancient memories by establishing gladiatorial shows under the shadow of\nthe Acropolis. Demonax, in the true spirit of Athens from the time of\nTheseus, advised them first to sweep away the altar of Pity.(1958)\n\nDemonax lived to nearly a hundred years. He is said never to have had an\nenemy. He was the object of universal deference whenever he appeared in\npublic. In his old age he might enter any Athenian house uninvited, and\nthey welcomed him as their good genius. The children brought him their\nlittle presents of fruit and called him father, and as he passed through\nthe market, the baker-women contended for the honour of giving him their\nloaves. He died a voluntary death, and wished for no tomb save what nature\nwould give him. But the Athenians were aware that they had seen in him a\nrare apparition of goodness; they honoured him with a splendid and\nimposing burial and mourned long for him. And the bench on which he used\nto sit when he was weary they deemed a sacred stone, and decked it with\ngarlands long after his death.(1959)\n\nDemonax, by a strange personal charm, attained to an extraordinary\npopularity and reverence. But the great mass of philosophic preachers had\nto face a great deal of obloquy and vulgar contempt. Apart from the\ncoarseness, arrogance, and inconsistency of many of them, which gave just\noffence, their very profession was an irritating challenge to a\npleasure-loving and worldly age. Men who gloried in the splendour of their\ncivic life, and were completely absorbed in it, who were flattered and\ncajoled by their magistrates and popular leaders, could hardly like to be\ntold by the vagrant, homeless teacher, in beggar\u2019s garb, that they were\nignorant and perverted and lost in a maze of deception. They would hardly\nbe pleased to hear that their civilisation was an empty show, without a\nsolid core of character, that their hopes of happiness from a round of\ngames and festivals, from the splendour of art in temples and statues,\nwere the merest mirage. The message _Beati pauperes spiritu\u2014Beati qui\nlugent_, will never be a popular one. That was the message to his age of\nthe itinerant Cynic preacher, and his unkempt beard and ragged cloak and\nthe fashion of his life made him the mark of cheap and abundant ridicule.\nSometimes the contempt was deserved; no great movement for the elevation\nof humanity has been free from impostors. Yet the severe judgment of the\nCynic missionaries on their age is that of the polished orator, who had as\ngreat a scorn as Lucian for the sensual or mercenary Cynic, and yet took\nup the scrip and staff himself, to propagate the same gospel as the\nCynics.(1960)\n\nDion Chrysostom was certainly not a Cynic in the academic sense, but he\nbelonged to the same great movement. He sprang from a good family at Prusa\nin Bithynia.(1961) He was trained in all the arts of rhetoric, and taught\nand practised them in the early part of his life. A suspected friendship\nled to his banishment in the reign of Domitian, and in his exile, with the\n_Phaedo_ and the _De Falsa Legatione_ as his companions, he wandered over\nmany lands, supporting himself often by menial service.(1962) He at last\nfound himself in his wanderings in regions where wild tribes of the Getae\nfor a century and a half had been harrying the distant outposts of\nHellenic civilisation on the northern shores of the Euxine.(1963) The news\nof the death of Domitian reached a camp on the Danube when Dion was there.\nThe soldiery, faithful to their emperor, were excited and indignant, but,\nunder the spell of Dion\u2019s eloquence, they were brought to acquiesce in the\naccession of the blameless Nerva. Dion at length returned to Rome, and\nrose to high favour at court. Trajan often invited him to his table, and\nused to take him as companion in his state carriage, although the honest\nsoldier did not pretend to appreciate Dion\u2019s rhetoric.(1964)\n\nDuring his exile, as he tells us, Dion had been converted to more serious\nviews of life. The triumphs of conventional declamation before fashionable\naudiences lost their glamour. Dion became conscious of a loftier mission\nto the dim masses of that far-spreading empire through whose cities and\nwildernesses he was wandering.(1965) As to the eyes of Seneca, men seemed\nto Dion, amid all their fair, cheerful life, to be holding out their hands\nfor help. Wherever he went, he found that, in his beggar\u2019s dress, he was\nsurrounded by crowds of people eager to hear any word of comfort or\ncounsel in the doubts and troubles of their lives. They assumed that the\npoor wanderer was a philosopher. They plied him with questions on the\ngreat problem, How to live; and the elegant sophist was thus compelled to\nfind an answer for them and for himself.(1966)\n\nDion never quite shook off the traditions and tone of the rhetorical\nschool. The ambition to say things in the most elegant and attractive\nstyle, the love of amplifying, in leisurely and elaborate development, a\ncommonplace and hackneyed theme still clings to him. His eighty orations\nare many of them rather essays than popular harangues. They range over all\nsorts of subjects, literary, mythological, and artistic, political and\nsocial, as well as purely ethical or religious. But, after all, Dion is\nunmistakably the preacher of a great moral revival and reform. He cannot\nbe classed definitely with any particular school of philosophy. He is the\napostle of Greek culture, yet he admires Diogenes, the founder of the\nCynics.(1967) If he had any philosophic ancestry, he would probably have\ntraced himself to the Xenophontic Socrates.(1968) But he is really the\nrhetorical apostle of the few great moral principles which were in the\nair, the common stock of Platonist, Stoic, Cynic, even the Epicurean.\nPhilosophy to him is really a religion, the science of right living in\nconformity to the will of the Heavenly Power. But it is also the practice\nof right living. No Christian preacher has probably ever insisted more\nstrongly on the gulf which separates the commonplace life of the senses\nfrom the life devoted to a moral ideal.(1969) The only philosophy worth\nthe name is the earnest quest of the path to true nobility and virtue, in\nobedience to the good genius, the unerring monitor within the breast of\neach of us, in whose counsels lies the secret of happiness properly so\ncalled.(1970) Hence Dion speaks with the utmost scorn alike of the coarse\nCynic impostor, who disgraces his calling by buffoonery and\ndebauchery,(1971) and the philosophic exquisite who tickles the ears of a\nfashionable audience with delicacies of phrase, but never thinks of trying\nto make them better men. He feels a sincere indignation at this dilettante\ntrifling, in view of a world which is in urgent need of practical\nguidance.(1972) For Dion, after all his wanderings through the Roman\nworld, has no illusions as to its moral condition. He is almost as great a\npessimist as Seneca or Juvenal. In spite of all its splendour and outward\nprosperity, society in the reign of Trajan seemed to Dion to be in a\nperilous state. Along with his own conversion came the revelation of the\nhopeless bewilderment of men in the search for happiness. Dimly conscious\nof their evil plight, they are yet utterly ignorant of the way to escape\nfrom it. They are swept hither and thither in a vortex of confused\npassions and longings for material pleasures.(1973) Material civilisation,\nwithout any accompanying moral discipline, has produced the familiar and\ninevitable result, in an ever-increasing appetite for wealth and enjoyment\nand showy distinction, which ends in perpetual disillusionment. Dion warns\nthe people of Tarsus that they are all sunk in a deep sensual slumber, and\nliving in a world of mere dreams, in which the reality of things is\nabsolutely inverted. Their famous river, their stately buildings, their\nwealth, even their religious festivals, on which they plume themselves,\nare the merest show of happiness.(1974) Its real secret, which lies in\ntemperance, justice, and true piety, is quite hidden from their eyes. When\nthat secret is learnt, their buildings may be less stately, gold and\nsilver will perhaps not be so abundant, there will be less soft and\ndelicate living, there may be even fewer costly sacrifices as piety\nincreases; but there will be a clearer perception of the true values of\nthings, and a chastened temperance of spirit, which are the only security\nfor the permanence of society. And the moralist points his audience to the\nsplendid civilisations of the past that have perished because they were\nwithout a soul. Assyria and Lydia, the great cities of Magna Graecia which\nlived in a dream of luxury, what are they now? And, latest example of all,\nMacedon, who pushed her conquests to the gates of India, and came into\npossession of the hoarded treasures of the great Eastern Empires, is gone,\nand royal Pella, the home of the race, is now a heap of bricks.(1975)\n\nIt needed a courage springing from enthusiasm and conviction to preach\nsuch unpalatable truths to an age which gloried in its material splendour.\nDion is often conscious of the difficulty of his task; and he exerts all\nhis trained dexterity to appease opposition, and gain a hearing for his\nmessage.(1976) As regards the reform of character, Dion has no new message\nto deliver. His is the old gospel of renunciation for the sake of freedom,\nthe doctrine of a right estimate of competing objects of desire and of the\ntrue ends of life. Dion, like nearly all Greek moralists from Socrates\ndownwards, treats moral error and reform as rather a matter of the\nintellect than of emotional impulse. Vice is the condition of a besotted\nmind, which has lost the power of seeing things as they really are;(1977)\nconversion must be effected, not by appeals to the feelings, but by\nclarifying the mental vision. There is but little reference to religion as\na means of reform, although Dion speaks of the love of God as a support of\nthe virtuous character. As an experienced moral director, Dion knew well\nthe necessity of constant iteration of the old truths. Just as the sick\nman will violate his doctor\u2019s orders, well knowing that he does so to his\nhurt, so the moral patient may long refuse to follow a principle of life\nwhich his reason has accepted.(1978) And so the preacher, instead of\napologising for repeating himself, will regard it as a duty and a\nnecessity to do so.\n\nBut Dion did not aim at the formation of any cloistered virtue,\nconcentrated on personal salvation. He has a fine passage in which he\nshows that retreat, (_\u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03c7\u03ce\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2_) detachment of spirit, is quite possible\nwithout withdrawing from the noises of the world.(1979) And he felt\nhimself charged with a mission to bring the higher principles of conduct\ninto the civic life of the time. We know from Pliny\u2019s correspondence with\nTrajan, that the great cities of Bithynia, and not least Dion\u2019s\nbirthplace,(1980) were then suffering from unskilful administration and\nwasteful finance. Dion completes the picture by showing us their miserable\nbickerings and jealousies about the most trivial things. He denounces the\nunscrupulous flattery of the masses by men whose only object was the\ntransient distinction of municipal office, the passion for place and\npower, without any sober wish to serve or elevate the community. He also\nexposes the caprice, the lazy selfishness, and the petulant ingratitude of\nthe crowd.(1981) Dion, it is true, is an idealist, and his ideals of\nsociety are perhaps not much nearer realisation in some of our great\ncities than they were then. He often delivered his message to the most\nunpromising audiences. Some of his finest conceptions of social\nreorganisation were expounded before rude gatherings on the very verge of\ncivilisation.(1982) Once, in his wanderings, he found himself under the\nwalls of a half-ruined Greek town, which had been attacked, the day\nbefore, by a horde of Scythian barbarians. There, on the steps of the\ntemple of Zeus, he expounded to an eager throng of mean Greek traders,\nwith all the worst vices, and only some faded traces of the culture of\ntheir race, the true meaning of city life.(1983) It is a society of men\nunder the kingship of law, from which all greed, intemperance, and\nviolence have been banished; a little world which, in its peaceful order\nand linked harmonies, should be modelled on the more majestic order of the\ngreat city of the universe, the city of gods and men.\n\nHow far from their ideal were the cities of his native land, Dion saw only\ntoo well. The urban life of Asia, as the result of the Greek conquests,\nhas perhaps never been surpassed in external splendour and prosperity, and\neven in a diffusion of intellectual culture. The palmy days of the\nglorious spring-time of Hellenic vigour and genius in Miletus, Phocaea,\nand Rhodes, seemed to be reproduced even in inland places, which for 1500\nyears have returned to waste.(1984) Agriculture and trade combined to\nproduce an extraordinary and prosperous activity. Education was endowed\nand organised, and literary culture became almost universal.(1985) Nowhere\ndid the wandering sophist find more eager audiences, and no part of the\nRoman world in that age contributed so great a number of teachers,\nphysicians, and philosophers. The single province of Bithynia, within half\na century, could boast of such names as Arrian, Dion Cassius, and Dion\nChrysostom himself. But moral and political improvement did not keep pace\nwith an immense material and intellectual progress. The life of the cities\nindeed was very intense; but, in the absence of the wider interests of the\ngreat days of freedom, they wasted their energies in futile contests for\nvisionary distinctions and advantages. A continual struggle was going on\nfor the \u201cprimacy\u201d of the province, and the name of metropolis. Ephesus,\nthe real capital, was challenged by Smyrna, which on its coins describes\nitself as \u201cfirst in greatness and beauty.\u201d(1986) The feuds between\nNicomedia and its near neighbour Nicaea caused Dion particular anxiety,\nand his speech to the people of Nicomedia is the best picture of the evils\nwhich we are describing.(1987)\n\nThe two cities have much in common. Their families have intermarried; they\nare constantly meeting in their markets and great religious festivals.\nThey are bound together by innumerable ties of private friendship.(1988)\nThe primacy for which they contend is the merest figment; there are no\nmaterial advantages at stake. Rather, these dissensions give a corrupt\nRoman governor, who trades upon them, the power to injure both the rival\nclaimants.(1989) The same is true of other cities. Tarsus is engaged in\nbitter contention with Mallus for a mere line of sandhills on their\nfrontiers.(1990) Dion\u2019s native Prusa has an exasperated quarrel with\nApamea for no solid reason whatever, although the two towns are closely\nlinked by nature to one another, and mutually dependent through their\ntrade and manufactures. All this miserable and foolish jealousy Dion\nexposes with excellent skill and sense; and he employs an abundant wealth\nof illustration in painting the happiness which attends harmony and\ngood-will. It is the law of the universe, from the tiny gregarious insect\nwhose life is but for a day, to the eternal procession of the starry\nspheres. The ant, in the common industry of the Lilliputian commonwealth,\nyields to his brother toiler, or helps him on his way.(1991) The primal\nelements of the Cosmos are tempered to a due observance of their several\nbounds and laws. The sun himself hides his splendour each night to give\nplace to the lesser radiance of the stars. This is rhetoric, of course,\nbut it is rhetoric with a moral burden. And it is impossible not to admire\nthe lofty tone of this heathen sophist, preaching the duty of forgiveness,\nof mutual love and deference, the blessing of the quiet spirit \u201cwhich\nseeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil.\u201d(1992)\nThere is a certain pathos in remembering that, within the very walls where\nthese elevated orations were delivered, there were shy companies of men\nand women meeting in the early dawn to sing hymns to One who, three\ngenerations before in Galilee, had taught a similar gospel of love and\nself-suppression, but with a strange mystic charm, denied to the pagan\neloquence, and that Dion seems never to have known those with whom he had\nso close a kindred.(1993)\n\nIn many another oration Dion strove to raise the moral tone of his age.\nHis speech to the Alexandrians is probably his most gallant protest\nagainst the besetting sins of a great population. Alexandria was a\ncongeries of many races, in which probably the Hellenic type of the\nPtolemies had succumbed to the enduring Egyptian _morale_.(1994) It was a\npopulace at once sensual and superstitious, passionately devoted to all\nexcitement, whether of games or orgiastic religious festival, with a\njeering irreverent vein, which did not spare even the greatest Emperors.\nIt was a curious medley\u2014the seat of the most renowned university of the\nancient world, the gathering-place and seed-ground of ideas which united\nthe immemorial mysticism of the East with the clear, cold reason of\nHellas\u2014and yet a seething hot-bed of obscenity, which infected the Roman\nworld, a mob who gave way to lunatic excitement over the triumph of an\nactor, or a singer, or the victor in a chariot-race.(1995) It required no\nordinary courage to address such a crowd, and to charge them with their\nglaring faults. The people of Alexandria are literally intoxicated with a\nsong. The music which, according to old Greek theory, should regulate the\npassions, here only maddens them.(1996) And in the races all human dignity\nseems to be utterly lost in the futile excitement of the spectators over\nsome low fellow contending for a prize in solid cash.(1997) Such a mob\nearns only the contempt of its rulers, and men say that the Alexandrians\ncare for nothing but the \u201cbig loaf\u201d and the sight of a race.(1998) All the\ndignity which should surround a great people is forgotten in the theatre.\nIt is useless to boast of the majestic and bounteous river, the harbours\nand markets crowded with the merchandise of Western or Indian seas, of the\nvisitors from every land, from Italy, Greece, and Syria, from the\nBorysthenes, the Oxus, and the Ganges.(1999) They come to witness the\nshame of the second city in the world, which, in the wantonness of\nprosperity, has lost the temperate dignity and orderly calm that are the\nreal glory of a great people.\n\nAs a foil to the feverish life of luxury, quarrelsome rivalry, and vulgar\nexcitement which prevailed in the great towns, Dion has left a prose idyll\nto idealise the simple pleasures and virtues of the country.(2000) It is\nalso a dirge over the decay of Greece, when crops were being reaped in the\nagora of historic cities, and the tall grasses grew around the statues of\ngods and heroes of the olden time.(2001) A traveller, cast ashore in the\nwreck of his vessel on the dreaded Hollows of Euboea, was sheltered, in a\nrude, warm-hearted fashion, by some peasants. Their fathers had been\nturned adrift in the confiscation of the estate of a great noble in some\ntrouble with the emperor, and they had made themselves a lonely home on a\npastoral slope, close to a stream, with the neighbouring shade of trees.\nThey had taken into tillage a few fields around their huts; they drove\ntheir cattle to the high mountain pastures in summer time, and in the\nwinter they turned to hunting the game along the snowy tracks. Of city\nlife they know hardly anything. One of them, indeed, had been twice in the\nneighbouring town, and he tells what he saw there in a lively way. It is\nall a mere shadow or caricature of the old civic life of Greece. There are\nthe rival orators, patriot or demagogue, the frivolous and capricious\ncrowd, the vote of the privilege of dining in the town-hall. The serious\npurpose of the piece, however, is to idealise the simple virtue and\nhappiness of the country folk, and to discuss the disheartening problem of\nthe poor in great cities.(2002) It is in the main the problem of our\nmodern urban life, and Dion had evidently thought deeply about it, and was\nan acute observer of the social misery which is the same from age to age.\nFortified by the divine Homer and ordinary experience, he points out that\nthe poor are more generous and helpful to the needy than are the rich out\nof their ample store. Too often the seeming bounty of the wealthy\nbenefactor is of the nature of a loan, which is to be returned with due\ninterest.(2003) The struggles and temptations of the poor in great cities\nsuggest a discussion of the perpetual problem of prostitution, which\nprobably no ancient writer ever faced so boldly. The double degradation of\nhumanity, which it involved in the ancient world, is powerfully\npainted;(2004) and the plea that the indulgence in venal immorality is the\nonly alternative to insidious attacks on family virtue is discussed with\nsingular firmness and yet delicacy of touch.(2005) The same detachment\nfrom contemporary prejudice is shown in Dion\u2019s treatment of slavery. He\nsees its fell effects on the masters, in producing sensuality, languor,\nand helpless dependence on others for the slightest services. He points\nout that there is no criterion afforded by nature to distinguish slave and\nfree. The so-called free man of the highest rank may be the offspring of a\nservile amour, and the so-called slave may be ingenuous in every sense,\ncondemned to bondage by an accident of fortune.(2006) Just as external\nfreedom does not imply moral worth, so legal enslavement does not imply\nmoral degradation.(2007) If moral justice always fixed the position of men\nin society by their deserts, master and slave would often have to change\nplaces.(2008) In Dion\u2019s judgment as to the enervating effects of slavery\non the slave-owning class, and the absence of any moral or mental\ndistinction to justify the institution, he is in singular harmony with\nSeneca.\n\nThe similarity of tone between Seneca and Dion is perhaps even more marked\nin their treatment of monarchy. Inherited, like so much else, from the\ngreat Greek thinkers of the fifth and fourth centuries B.C., the ideal of\na beneficent and unselfish prince, the true \u201cshepherd of the people,\u201d the\nantithesis of the lawless and sensual tyrant, had become, partly, no\ndoubt, through the influence of the schools of rhetoric, a common\npossession of cultivated minds. Vespasian gave it a certain reality, if\nhis son Domitian showed how easily the king might pass into the tyrant.\nThe dream of an earthly providence, presiding over the Roman world, dawned\nin more durable splendour with the accession of Trajan, and Pliny, his\npanegyrist, has left us a sketch of the patriot prince, which is almost\nidentical with the lines of Dion\u2019s ideal.(2009) Both Dion and Pliny were\nfavourites of Trajan, and some of Dion\u2019s orations were delivered before\nhis court. As a court preacher, he justly boasts that he is no mere\nflatterer, although we may suspect that his picture of the ideal monarch\nmight have been interpreted as drawn from the character of Trajan, just as\nhis picture of the tyrant was probably suggested by Domitian.(2010) Still,\nwe may well believe the orator when he says that the man who had bearded\nthe one at the cost of long exile and penury, was not likely to flatter\nthe other for the gold or honours which he despised. And in these\ndiscourses, Dion seems full of the sense of a divine mission. Once, on his\nwanderings, he lost his way somewhere on the boundaries of Arcadia, and,\nascending a knoll to recover the track, he found himself before a rude,\nruined shrine of Heracles, hung with votive offerings of the chase.(2011)\nAn aged woman sat by them who told him that she had a spirit of divination\nfrom the gods. The shepherds and peasants used to come to her with\nquestions about the fate of their flocks and crops. And she now entrusted\nDion with a message to the great ruler of many men whom she prophesied\nDion was soon to meet.(2012) It was a tale of Heracles, the great\nbenefactor of men from the rising to the setting sun, who, by his simple\nstrength, crushed all lawless monsters and gave the world an ordered\npeace. His father inspired him with noble impulse for his task by oracle\nand omen, and sent Hermes once, when Heracles was still a boy at Thebes,\nto show him the vision of the Two Peaks, and strengthen him in his\nvirtue.(2013) They rose from the same rocky roots, amid precipitous crags\nand deep ravines, and the noise of many waters. At first they seemed to be\none mountain mass, but they soon parted wide asunder, the one being sacred\nto Zeus, the other to the lawless Typhon. On the one crest, rising into\nthe cloudless ether, Kingship sits enthroned, in the likeness of a fair,\nstately woman, clad in robes of glistening white, and wielding a sceptre\nof brighter and purer metal than any silver or gold. Under her steady gaze\nof radiant dignity, the good felt a cheerful confidence, the bad quailed\nand shrank away. She was surrounded by handmaidens of a beauty like her\nown, Justice and Peace and Order. The paths to the other peak were many\nand secret, and skirted an abyss, streaming with blood or choked with\ncorpses. Its top was wrapped in mist and cloud, and there sat Tyranny on a\nfar higher and more pompous throne, adorned with gold and ivory and many a\ngorgeous colour, but a throne rocking and unstable. She strove to make\nherself like to Kingship, but it was all mere hollow pretence. Instead of\nthe gracious smile, there was a servile, hypocritical leer; instead of the\nglance of dignity, there was a savage scowl. And around her sat a throng\nbearing ill-omened names, Cruelty and Lust, Lawlessness and Flattery and\nSedition. On a question from Hermes, the youthful Heracles made his\nchoice, and his father gave him his commission to be the saviour of men.\n\nIn this fashion Dion, like Aeschylus, recasts old myth to make it the\nvehicle of moral instruction, just as he finds in Homer the true teacher\nof kings.(2014) The theory of ideal monarchy is developed at such length\nas may have somewhat wearied the emperor. But it really is based on a few\ngreat principles. True kings, in Homer\u2019s phrase, are sons of Zeus, and\nthey are shepherds of the people. All genuine political power rests on\nvirtue, and ultimately on the favour of Heaven. A king is appointed by God\nto work the good of his subjects. And, as his authority is divine, an\nimage on earth of the sovereignty of Zeus, the monarch will be a\nscrupulously religious man in the highest sense,(2015) not merely by\noffering costly sacrifices, but by righteousness, diligence, and\nself-sacrifice in performing the duties of his solemn charge. The many\ntitles addressed to Father Zeus represent so many aspects of royal\nactivity and virtue. The true prince will be the father of his people,\nsurrounded and guarded by a loving reverence, which never degenerates into\nfear. His only aim will be their good. He will keep sleepless watch over\nthe weak, the careless, those who are heedless for themselves. Commanding\ninfinite resources, he will know less of mere pleasure than any man within\nhis realm. With such immense responsibilities, he will be the most\nlaborious of all. His only advantage over the private citizen is in his\nboundless command of friendship; for all men must be well-wishers to one\nwielding such a beneficent power, with whom, from his conception of his\nmission, they must feel an absolute identity of interest. And the king\u2019s\ngreatest need is friendship, to provide him with myriads of hands and eyes\nin the vast work of government.(2016) Herein lies the sharpest contrast\nbetween the true king and the tyrant, a contrast which was a commonplace\nin antiquity, but which was stamped afresh by the juxtaposition of the\nreign of Domitian and the reign of Trajan. The universal hatred which\npursued a bad Caesar even beyond the grave, which erased his name from\nmonuments and closed its eyes even to intervals of serious purpose for the\ngeneral weal, was a terrible illustration of the lonely friendlessness of\nselfish power.(2017) Instead of loyal and grateful friendship, the despot\nwas mocked by a venal flattery which was only its mimicry. The good\nmonarch will treat flatterers as false coiners who cause the genuine\ncurrency to be suspected. This counsel and others of Dion were often\nlittle regarded by succeeding emperors. Yet even the last shadowy princes\nof the fifth century professed themselves the guardians of the human race,\nand are oppressed by an ideal of universal beneficence which they are\nimpotent to realise.(2018)\n\nHitherto we have been occupied with the preaching of Dion on personal\nconduct, the reform of civic life, or the duties of imperial power. It\ncannot be said that he discusses these subjects without reference to\nreligious beliefs and aspirations.(2019) But religion is rather in the\nbackground; the reverence for the Heavenly Powers is rather assumed as a\nnecessary basis for human life rightly ordered. There is one oration,\nhowever, of supreme interest to the modern mind, in which Dion goes to the\nroot of all religion, and examines the sources of belief in God and the\njustification of anthropomorphic imagery in representing Him. This\nutterance was called forth by a visit to Olympia when Dion was advanced in\nyears.(2020) The games of Olympia were a dazzling and inspiring spectacle,\nand the multitude which gathered there from all parts of the world was a\nsplendid audience. But, with the sound of the sacred trumpet, and the\nherald\u2019s voice, proclaiming the victor, in his ears, Dion turns away from\nall the glory of youthful strength and grace, even from the legendary\nsplendour of the great festival,(2021) to the majestic figure of the\nOlympian Zeus, which had been graved by the hand of Pheidias more than 500\nyears before, and to the thoughts of the divine world which it suggested.\nThat greatest triumph of idealism in plastic art, inspired by famous lines\nin the _Iliad_, was, by the consent of all antiquity, the masterpiece of\nPheidias. Ancient writers of many ages are lost in admiration of the\nmingled majesty and benignity which the divine effigy expressed. To the\neyes of Lucian it seemed \u201cthe very son of Kronos brought down to earth,\nand set to watch over the lonely plain of Elis.\u201d(2022) There it sat\nwatching for more than 800 years, till it was swept away in the fierce,\nfinal effort to dethrone the religion of the past. Yet the majestic image,\nwhich attracted the fury of the iconoclasts of the reign of Theodosius,\ninspired Dion with thoughts of the Divine nature which travelled far\nbeyond the paganism either of poetry or of the crowd. It was not merely\nthe masterpiece of artistic and constructive skill which had fascinated\nthe gaze, and borne the vicissitudes, of so many centuries, that moved his\nadmiration; it was also, and more, the moral effect of that miracle of art\non the spectator. The wildest and fiercest of the brute creation might be\ncalmed and softened by the air of majestic peace and kindness which\nfloated around the gold and ivory. \u201cWhosoever among mortal men is most\nutterly toil-worn in spirit, having drunk the cup of many sorrows and\ncalamities, when he stands before this image, methinks, must utterly\nforget all the terrors and woes of this mortal life.\u201d(2023)\n\nBut the thoughts of Dion, in presence of the majestic figure at Olympia,\ntake a wider range. His theme is nothing less than the sources of our idea\nof God, and the place of art in religion. He pours his scorn upon\nhedonistic atheism. Our conception of God is innate, original, universal\namong all the races of men.(2024) It is the product of the higher reason,\ncontemplating the majestic order, minute adaptation, and beneficent\nprovision for human wants in the natural world. In that great temple, with\nits alternations of gloom and splendour, its many voices of joy or of\nterror, man is being perpetually initiated in the Great Mysteries, on a\ngrander scale than at Eleusis, with God Himself to preside over the rites.\nThe belief in God depends in the first instance on no human teaching, any\nmore than does the love of child to parent. But this original intuition\nand belief in divine powers finds expression through the genius of\ninspired poets; it is reinforced by the imperative prescriptions of the\nfounders and lawgivers of states; it takes external form in bronze or gold\nand ivory or marble, under the cunning hand of the great artist; it is\ndeveloped and expounded by philosophy.(2025) Like all the deepest thinkers\nof his time, Dion is persuaded of the certainty of God\u2019s existence, but he\nis equally conscious of the remoteness of the Infinite Spirit, and of the\nweakness of all human effort to approach, or to picture it to the mind of\nman. We are to Dion like \u201cchildren crying in the night, and with no\nlanguage but a cry.\u201d(2026) Yet the child will strive to image forth the\nface of the Father, although it is hidden behind a veil which will never\nbe withdrawn in this world. The genius of poetry, commanding the most\nversatile power of giving utterance to the religious imagination, is first\nin order and in power. Law and institution follow in its wake. The plastic\narts, under cramping limitations, come later still to body forth the\ndivine dreams of the elder bards. Dion had thought much on the relative\npower of poetry and the sculptor\u2019s art to give expression to the thoughts\nand feelings of man about the Divine nature. The boundless power or\nlicence of language to find a symbol for every thought or image on the\nphantasy is seen at its height in Homer, who riots in an almost lawless\nexercise of his gifts.(2027) But the chief importance of the discussion\nlies in an arraignment of Pheidias for attempting to image in visible form\nthe great Soul and Ruler of the universe, Whom mortal eye has never seen\nand can never see. His defence is very interesting, both as a clear\nstatement of the limitations of the plastic arts, and as a justification\nof material images of the Divine.\n\nPheidias pleads in his defence that the artist could not, if he would,\ndesert the ancient religious tradition, which was consecrated in popular\nimagination by the romance of poetry;(2028) that is fixed for ever.\nGranted that the Divine nature is far removed from us, and far beyond our\nken; yet, as little children separated from their parents, feel a strong\nyearning for them and stretch out their hands vainly in their dreams, so\nthe race of man, from love and kindred, longs ever to draw nigh to the\nunseen God by prayer and sacrifice and visible symbol. The ruder races\nwill image their god in trees or shapeless stones, or may seek a strange\nsymbol in some of the lower forms of animal life.(2029) The higher may\nfind sublime expression of His essence in the sun and starry spheres. For\nthe pure and infinite mind which has engendered and which sustains the\nuniverse of life, no sculptor or painter of Hellas has ever found, or can\never find, full and adequate expression.(2030) Hence men take refuge in\nthe vehicle and receptacle of the noblest spirit known to them, the form\nof man. And the Infinite Spirit, of which the human is an effluence, may\nperhaps best be embodied in the form of His child.(2031) But no effort or\necstasy of artistic fancy, in form or colour, can ever follow the track of\nthe Homeric imagination in its majesty and infinite variety of expression.\nThe sculptor and painter have fixed limits set to their skill, beyond\nwhich they cannot pass. They can appeal only to the eye; their material\nhas not the infinite ductility and elasticity of the poetic dialect of\nmany tribes and many generations. They can seize only a single moment of\naction or passion, and fix it for ever in bronze or stone. Yet Pheidias,\nwith a certain modest self-assertion, pleads that his conception of the\nOlympian Zeus, although less various and seductive than Homer\u2019s, although\nhe cannot present to the gazer the crashing thunderbolt or the baleful\nstar, or the heaving of Olympus, is perhaps more elevating and\ninspiring.(2032) The Zeus of Pheidias is the peace-loving and gentle\nprovidence of an undisturbed and harmonious Greece, the august giver of\nall good gifts, the father and saviour and guardian of men. The many names\nby which men call him may each find some answering trait in the laborious\nwork of the chisel. In the lines of that majestic and benign image are\nshadowed forth the mild king and father, the hearer of prayer, the\nguardian of civic order and family love, the protector of the stranger,\nand the power who gives fertile increase to flock and field. The Zeus of\nPheidias and of Dion is a God of mercy and peace, with no memory of the\nwars of the Giants.(2033)\n\nDion is a popular teacher of morality, not a thinker or theologian. But\nthis excursion into the field of theology shows him at his best. And it\nprepares us for the study of some more formal efforts to find a theology\nin the poetry of legend.\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER III\n\n\n                        THE PHILOSOPHIC THEOLOGIAN\n\n\nThe times were ripe for a theodicy. Religion of every mood and tone, of\nevery age and clime, was in the air, and philosophy had abandoned\nspeculation and turned to the direction of conduct and spiritual life. The\nmission of philosophy is to find the one in the many, and never did the\nreligious life of men offer a more bewildering multiplicity and variety,\nnot to say chaos, to the ordering power of philosophy. The scepticism of\nthe Neronian age had almost disappeared. The only rationalists of any\ndistinction in the second century were Lucian and Galen.(2034) It was an\nage of imperious spiritual cravings, alike among the cultivated and the\nvulgar. But the thin abstractions of the old Latin faith and the brilliant\nanthropomorphism of Greece had ceased to satisfy even the crowd. It was an\nage with a longing for a religious system less formal and coldly external,\nfor a religion more satisfying to the deeper emotions, a religion which\nshould offer divine help to human need and misery, divine guidance amid\nthe darkness of time; above all, a divine light in the mystery of death.\nThe glory of classic art had mysteriously closed. It was an age rather of\nmaterial splendour, and, at first sight, an age of bourgeois ideals of\nparochial fame and mere enjoyment of the hour. Yet the Antonine age has\nsome claim to spiritual distinction. In the dim, sub-conscious feelings of\nthe masses, as well as in the definite spiritual effort of the higher\nminds, there was really a great movement towards a ruling principle of\nconduct and a spiritual vision. Men often, indeed, followed the\nmarsh-light through strange devious paths into wildernesses peopled with\nthe spectres of old-world superstition. But the light of the Holy Grail\nhad at last flashed on the eyes of some loftier minds. From the early\nyears of the second century we can trace that great combined movement of\nthe new Platonism and the revived paganism,(2035) which so long retarded\nthe triumph of the Church, and yet, in the Divinely-guided evolution, was\ndestined to prepare men for it.\n\nThe old religion had not lost all hold on men\u2019s minds, as it is sometimes\nsaid to have done, in rather too sweeping language. The punctilious ritual\nwith which, in the stately narrative of Tacitus, the Capitol was restored\nby Vespasian, the pious care with which the young Aurelius recited the\nSalian litany in words no longer understood, the countless victims which\nhe offered to the guardian gods of Rome in evil days of pestilence and\ndoubtful war, these things reveal the strength of the religion of Numa.\nTwo centuries after M. Aurelius was in his grave, the deities which had\ncradled the Roman state, and watched over its career, were still objects\nof reverence to the conservative circle of Symmachus. A religion which was\nintertwined with the whole fabric of government and society, which gave\nits sanction or benediction to every act and incident in the individual\nlife, which was omnipresent in game and festival, in temple and votive\nmonument, was placed far beyond the influence of changing fashions of\ndevotion. It was a powerful stay of patriotism, a powerful bond of civic\nand family life; it threw a charm of awe and old-world sanctity around\neverything it touched. But for the deeper spiritual wants and emotions it\nfurnished little nutriment. To find relief and cleansing from the sense of\nguilt, cheer and glad exaltation of pious emotion, consolation in the\ncommon miseries of life, and hope in the shadow of death, men had to\nbetake themselves to other systems. The oriental religions were pouring in\nlike a flood, and spreading over all the West. One Antonine built a shrine\nof Mithra,(2036) another took the tonsure of Isis.(2037) The priests and\nacolytes of the Egyptian goddess were everywhere, chanting their litanies\nin solemn processions along the streets, instructing and baptizing their\ncatechumens, and, in the alternating gloom and splendour of their\nmysteries, bearing the entranced soul to the boundaries of life and\ndeath.(2038) Mithra, \u201cthe Unconquered,\u201d was justifying his name. In every\ndistrict from the Euxine to the Solway he brought a new message to\nheathendom. Pure from all grossness of myth, the Persian god of light came\nas the mediator and comforter, to soothe the poor and broken-hearted, and\ngive the cleansing of the mystic blood. His hierarchy of the initiated,\nhis soothing symbolic sacraments, his gorgeous ritual, and his promise of\nimmortality to those who drank the mystic Haoma, gratified and stimulated\nreligious longings which were to find their full satisfaction in the\nministry of the Church.\n\nBut the religious imagination was not satisfied with historic and\naccredited systems. Travel and conquest were adding to the spiritual\nwealth or burden of the Roman race. In lonely Alpine passes, in the\ndeserts of Africa, or the Yorkshire dales, in every ancient wood or secret\nspring which he passed in his wanderings or campaigns, the Roman found\nhosts of new divinities, possible helpers or possible enemies, whose\nfavour it was expedient to win.(2039) And, where he knew not their strange\noutlandish names, he would try to propitiate them all together under no\nname, or any name that pleased them.(2040) And, as if this vague multitude\nof ghostly powers were not large enough for devotion, the fecundity of\nimagination created a host of genii, of haunting or guarding spirits,\nattached to every place or scene, to every group or corporation of men\nwhich had a place in Roman life. There were genii of the secret spring or\ngrove, of the camp, the legion, the cohort, of the Roman people, above\nall, there was the genius of the emperor.(2041) Apotheosis went on\napace\u2014apotheosis not merely of the emperors, but of a theurgic philosopher\nlike Apollonius, of a minion like Antinous, of a mere impostor like\nAlexander of Abonoteichos.(2042) Old oracles, which had been suppressed or\ndecadent in the reign of Nero, sprang into fresh life and popularity in\nthe reign of Trajan. New sources of oracular inspiration were opened, some\nof them challenging for the time the ancient fame of Delphi or\nDodona.(2043) According to Lucian, oracles were pealing from every rock\nand every altar.(2044) Every form of revelation or divination, every\navenue of access to the Divine, was eagerly sought for, or welcomed with\npious credulity. The study of omens and dreams was reduced to the form of\na pseudo-science by a host of writers like Artemidorus. The sacred art of\nhealing through visions of the night found a home in those charming\ntemples of Asclepius, which rose beside so many hallowed springs, with\nfair prospect and genial air, where the god revealed his remedy in dreams,\nand a lore half hieratic, half medical, was applied to relieve the\nsufferer.(2045) Miracles and special providences, the most marvellous or\nthe most grotesque, were chronicled with unquestioning faith, not only by\nfanatics like Aelian, but by learned historians like Tacitus and\nSuetonius. Tales of witchcraft and weird sorcery are as eagerly believed\nat Trimalchio\u2019s dinner-table(2046) as in lonely villages of Thessaly. On\nthe higher level of the new Pythagorean faith, everything is possible to\nthe pure spirit. To such a soul God will reveal Himself by many voices to\nwhich gross human clay is deaf; the future lays bare its secrets; nature\nyields up her hidden powers. Spiritual detachment triumphs over matter and\ntime; and the Pythagorean apostle predicts a plague at Ephesus, casts out\ndemons, raises the dead, vanishes like a phantom from the clutches of\nDomitian.(2047)\n\nAt a superficial glance, a state of religion such as has been sketched\nmight seem to be a mere bewildering chaos of infinitely divided spiritual\ninterest. Men seem to have adopted the mythologies of every race, and to\nhave superadded a new mythology of positively boundless fecundity. A\nsingle votive tablet will contain the names of the great gods of Latium\nand Greece, of Persia, Commagene, and Egypt, and beside them, strange\nnames of British or Swiss, Celtic, Spanish, or Moorish gods, and the\nvaguely-designated spirits who now seemed to float in myriads around the\nscenes of human life.(2048) Yet, unperceived by the ordinary devotee, amid\nall this confused ferment, a certain principle of unity or comprehension\nwas asserting its power. Although the old gods in Lucian\u2019s piece might\ncomically complain that they were being crowded out of Olympus by Mithra\nand Anubis and their barbarous company,(2049) there was really little\njealousy or repulsion among the pagan cults. Ancient ritual was losing its\nprecision of outline; the venerable deities of classical myth were putting\noff the decided individuality which had so long distinguished them in the\npopular imagination.(2050) The provinces and attributes of kindred deities\nmelted into one another and were finally identified; syncretism was in the\nair. Without the unifying aid of philosophy, ordinary piety was effecting\nunconsciously a vast process of simplification which tended to ideal\nunity. In the Sacred Orations of Aristides, Poseidon, Athene, Serapis,\nAsclepius, are dropping the peculiar powers by which they were so long\nknown, and rising, without any danger of collision, to all-embracing sway.\nSo, the Isis of Apuleius, the \u201cgoddess of myriad names,\u201d in her vision to\nLucius, boldly claims to be \u201cQueen of the world of shades, first of the\ninhabitants of Heaven, in whom all gods find their unchanging type.\u201d(2051)\nOf course, to the very end, the common superstitious devotion of the\nmasses was probably little influenced by the great spiritual movement\nwhich, in the higher strata, was moulding heathen faith into an approach\nto monotheism. The simple peasant still clung to his favourite deity, as\nhis Catholic descendant has to-day his favourite saint. But it is in the\nhigher minds that the onward sweep of great spiritual movements can really\nbe discerned. The initiation of Apuleius in all the mysteries, the\nreverent visits of Apollonius to every temple and oracle from the Ganges\nto the Guadalquivir, the matins of Alexander Severus in a chapel which\nenshrined the images of Abraham and Orpheus, of Apollonius and\nChrist;(2052) these, and many other instances of all-embracing devotion,\npoint forward to the goal of that Platonist th\u00e9odic\u00e9e which it is the\npurpose of this chapter to expound.\n\nThe spectacle of an immense efflorescence of pure paganism, most of it\nborn of very mundane fears and hopes and desires, to men like Lucian was a\nsight which might, according to the mood, move to tears or laughter. But\nthe same great impulse which drove the multitude into such wild curiosity\nof superstition, was awaking loftier conceptions of the Divine, and\nfeelings of purer devotion in the educated. And sometimes the very highest\nand the very lowest developments of the protean religious instinct may be\nseen in a single mind. Was there ever such a combination of the sensualist\nimagination with the ideal of ascetic purity, of the terrors and dark arts\nof anile superstition with the mystic vision of God, as in the soul of\nApuleius? The painter of the foulest scenes in ancient literature seems to\nhave cherished the faith in a heavenly King, First Cause of all nature,\nFather of all living things,(2053) Saviour of spirits, beyond the range of\ntime and change, remote, ineffable. The prayer of thanksgiving to Isis\nmight, _mutatis mutandis_, be almost offered in a Christian church. The\nconception of the unity and purity of the Divine One was the priceless\nconquest of Greek philosophy, and pre-eminently of Plato. It had been\nbrought home to the Roman world by the teaching of Stoicism. But there is\na new note in the monotheism of the first and second centuries of the\nEmpire. God is no longer a mere intellectual postulate, the necessary\ncrown and lord of a great cosmic system. He has become a moral necessity.\nHis existence is demanded by the heart as well as by the intellect. Men\ncraved no longer for a God to explain the universe, but to resolve the\nenigma of their own lives; not a blind force, moving on majestically and\nmercilessly to \u201csome far-off event,\u201d but an Infinite Father guiding in\nwisdom, cherishing in mercy, and finally receiving His children to\nHimself. This is the conception of God which, from Seneca to M. Aurelius,\nis mastering the best minds, both Stoic and Platonist.(2054) Seneca, as we\nhave seen in a former chapter, often speaks in the hard tones of the older\nStoicism. Sometimes God, Nature, Fate, Jupiter, are identical terms(2055).\nBut the cold, materialistic conception of God is irreconcilable with many\npassages in his writings. Like Epictetus and M. Aurelius, Seneca is often\nfar more emotional, we may say, far more modern, than his professed creed.\nThe materialistic _Anima Mundi_, interfused with the universe and the\nnature of man, becomes the infinitely benign Creator, Providence, and\nGuardian, the Father, and almost the Friend of men. He is the Author of\nall good, never of evil: He is gentle and pitiful, and to attribute to Him\nstorm or pestilence or earthquake or the various plagues of human life is\nan impiety. These things are the result of physical law. To such a God\nboundless gratitude is due for His goodness, resignation in the wise\nchastenings of His hand. He chastises whom he loves. In bereavement, He\ntakes only what He has given. He is our ready helper in every moral\neffort; no goodness is possible without His succour. In return for all His\nbenefits, He asks for no costly material offerings, no blood of victims,\nno steaming incense, no adulation in prayer. Faith in God is the true\nworship of Him. If you wish to propitiate Him, imitate His goodness. And\nfor the elect soul the day of death is a birthday of eternity, when the\nload of corporeal things is shaken off, and the infinite splendour of the\nimmortal life spreads out with no troubling shadow.(2056)\n\nHardly less striking is the warmth of devout feeling which suffuses the\nmoral teaching of Epictetus and M. Aurelius. They have not indeed\nabandoned the old Stoic principle that man\u2019s final good depends on the\nrectitude of the will. But the Stoic sage is no longer a solitary athlete,\nconquering by his proud unaided strength, and in his victory rising almost\nsuperior to Zeus. Growing moral experience had taught humility, and\ninspired the sense of dependence on a Higher Power in sympathy with\nman.(2057) No true Stoic, of course, could ever forget the Divine element\nwithin each human soul which linked it with the cosmic soul, and through\nwhich man might bring himself into harmony with the great polity of gods\nand men. But, somehow, the Divine Power immanent in the world, from a dim,\ncold, impalpable law or fate or impersonal force, slowly rounds itself off\ninto a Being, if not apart from man, at any rate his superior, his Creator\nand Guardian, nay, in the end, his Father, from whom he comes, to whom he\nreturns at death. Some may think this a decline from the lofty plane of\nthe older school. The answer is that the earlier effort to find salvation\nthrough pure reason in obedience to the law of the whole, although it may\nhave been magnificent, was not a working religion for man as he is\nconstituted. The eternal involution of spirit and matter in the old Stoic\ncreed, the cold, impersonal, unknowable power, which, under whatever name,\nLaw, Reason, Fate, Necessity, permeates the universe, necessarily exclude\nthe idea of design, of providence, of moral care for humanity. The unknown\nPower which claims an absolute obedience, has no aid or recognition for\nhis worshipper. The monism of the old Stoics breaks down. The human\nspirit, in striving to realise its unity with the Universal Spirit,\nrealises with more and more intensity the perpetual opposition of matter\nand spirit, while it receives no aid in the conflict from the power which\nordains it; it \u201cfinds itself alone in an alien world.\u201d The true Stoic has\nno real object of worship. If he addresses the impassive centre and soul\nof his universe, sometimes in the rapturous tones of loving devotion, it\nis only a pathetic illusion born of the faiths of the past, or inspired by\na dim forecast of the faiths of the coming time. How could the complex of\nblind forces arouse any devotion? It demanded implicit submission and\nself-sacrifice, but it gave no help, save the name of a Divine element in\nthe human soul; it furnished no inspiring example to the sage in the\nconflicts of passion, under obloquy, obstruction, and persecution.\nMeanwhile, in this forlorn struggle, the human character was through\nstress and storm developing new powers and virtues, lofty courage in the\nface of lawless power, pious resignation to the blows of fortune, gentle\nconsideration and mercy even for slaves and the outcasts of society,\nideals of purity unknown to the ancient world in its prime. The sage\nmight, according to orthodox theory, rest in a placid content of rounded\nperfection. But human nature is not so constituted. In proportion to\nspiritual progress is the force of spiritual longings; _beati __mundo\ncorde, ipsi Deum videbunt_. The fruitful part of Stoicism as a religion\nwas the doctrine that the human reason is a part of the soul of the world,\na spark of the Divine mind. At first this was only conceived in the\nfashion of a materialistic pantheism.(2058) The kindred between the\nindividual and the general soul was little more than a physical doctrine.\nBut it developed in minds like Epictetus and Seneca a profound spiritual\nmeaning; it tapped the source of all real religion. Pure reason can never\nsolve the religious problem. The history of religions shows that a\nconception of God which is to act effectually on composite human nature is\nnever reached by the speculative intellect. What reason cannot do is\neffected by the \u201csub-conscious self,\u201d(2059) which is the dim seat of the\ndeeper intuitions, haunted by vague memories, hereditary pieties, and\nemotional associations, the spring of strange genius, of heroic sacrifice,\nof infinite aspiration. There throbs the tide \u201cwhich drew from out the\nboundless deep.\u201d Thus the Stoic of the later time became a mystic, in the\nsense that \u201cby love and emotion he solved the dualism of the world.\u201d(2060)\nGod is no longer a mere physical law or force, however subtilised,\nsweeping on in pitiless impetus or monotony of cyclic change. God is\nwithin the human soul, not as a spark of empyreal fire, but as the voice\nof conscience, the spiritual monitor and comforter, the \u201cHoly\nSpirit,\u201d(2061) prompting, guarding, consoling in life and death. God is no\nlonger found so much in the ordered movement of the spheres and the\nrecurring processes or the cataclysms of the material universe. He is\nheard in the still small voice. It is thus that the later Stoicism melts\ninto the revived Platonism.\n\nProbably Seneca and Epictetus, had they been interrogated, would have\nloyally resolved their most rapturous and devout language into the cold\nterms of Stoic orthodoxy. But the emotional tone is a really new element\nin their teaching, and the language of spiritual abandonment, joyful\nresignation to a Higher Will, free and cheerful obedience to it in the\nconfidence of love, would be absurdly incongruous if addressed to an\nabstract law or physical necessity.(2062) The fatherhood of God and the\nkinship of all men as His sons is the fundamental principle of the new\ncreed, binding us to do nothing unworthy of such an ancestry.(2063) At\nother times we are soldiers of God in a war with evil, bound to military\nobedience, awaiting calmly the last signal to retreat from the scene of\nstruggle.(2064) The infinite benevolence of God is asserted in the face of\nall appearances to the contrary. This of course is all the easier to one\ntrained in the doctrine that the external fortune of life has nothing to\ndo with man\u2019s real happiness. The fear of God is banished by the sense of\nHis perfect love. The all-seeing eye, the all-embracing providence, leave\nno room for care or foreboding. The Stoic optimism is now grounded on a\npersonal trust in a loving and righteous will: \u201cI am Thine, do with me\nwhat Thou wilt.\u201d \u201cFor all things work together for good to them who love\nHim.\u201d The external sufferings and apparent wrongs of the obedient sons of\nGod are no stumbling-blocks to faith.(2065) The great heroic example,\nHeracles, the son of Zeus, was sorely tried by superhuman tasks, and won\nhis crown of immortality through toil and battle. \u201cWhom He loves He\nchastens.\u201d Even apparent injustice is only an education through suffering.\nThese things are \u201conly light afflictions\u201d to him who sees the due\nproportions of things and knows Zeus as his father. Even to the poor, the\nlame, the blind, if they have the divine love, the universe is a great\ntemple, full of mystery and joy, and each passing day a festival. In the\ncommon things of life, in ploughing, digging, eating, we should sing hymns\nto God. \u201cWhat else can I do,\u201d says Epictetus, \u201ca lame old man, than sing\nHis praise, and exhort all men to join in the same song?\u201d(2066) Who shall\nsay what depth of religious emotion, veiled under old-world phrase, there\nwas in that outburst of M. Aurelius: \u201cAll harmonises with me which is in\nharmony with thee, O Universe. Nothing for me is too early nor too late\nwhich is in due season for thee.... For thee are all things, in thee are\nall things, to thee all things return. The poet says, Dear City of\nCecrops; and wilt not thou say, Dear City of Zeus?\u201d(2067)\n\nThe attitude of such souls to external worship in every age may be easily\ndivined without the evidence of their words. If God is good and wishes\nonly the good of His creatures, then to seek to appease His wrath and\navert His capricious judgments becomes an impiety. If men\u2019s final good\nlies in the moral sphere, in justice, gentleness, temperance, obedience to\nthe higher order, then prayer for external goods, for mere indulgences of\nsense or ambition, shows a hopeless misconception as to the nature of God\nand the supreme destiny of man.(2068) On the other hand, without giving up\nthe doctrine that the highest good depends on the virtuous will, the later\nStoics and Platonists have begun to feel that man needs support and\ninspiration in his moral struggles from a higher Power, a Power without\nhim and beyond him, yet who is allied to him in nature and sympathy.\nPrayer is no longer a means of winning temporal good things \u201cfor which the\nworthy need not pray, and which the unworthy will not obtain.\u201d It is a\nfortifying communion with the Highest, an act of thanksgiving for\nblessings already received, an inspiration for a fuller and diviner\nlife.(2069) It is an effort of gratitude and adoration to draw from the\nDivine source of all moral strength.\n\nIt must always remain to moderns an enigma how souls living in such a\nspiritual world refused to break with heathen idolatry. Seneca, indeed,\npoured contempt on the grossness of myth in a lost treatise on\nsuperstition;(2070) and he had no liking for the external rites of\nworship. But in some strange way M. Aurelius reconciled punctilious\ndevotion to the popular gods with an austere pantheism or monotheism. It\nis in Platonists such as Dion or Maximus of Tyre that we meet with an\nattempted apology for anthropomorphic symbolism of the Divine.(2071) The\njustification lies in the vast gulf which separates the remote, ineffable,\nand inconceivable purity of God from the feebleness and grossness of man.\nFew are they who can gaze in unaided thought on the Divine splendour\nunveiled. Images, rites, and sacred myth have been invented by the wisdom\nof the past, to aid the memory and the imagination of weak ordinary souls.\nThe symbols have varied with the endless variety of races. Animals or\ntrees, mountain or river, rude unhewn stones, or the miracles of Pheidias\nin gold and ivory, are simply the sign or picture by which the soul is\npointed to the Infinite Essence which has never been seen by mortal eye or\nimaged in human phantasy. The symbol which appeals to one race may be poor\nand contemptible in the eyes of another. The animal worship of Egypt gave\na shock to minds which were lifted heavenwards by the winning majesty of\nthe Virgin Goddess or of the Zeus of Olympia. The human form, as the\nchosen tabernacle of an effluence of the Divine Spirit, might well seem to\nDion and Maximus the noblest and most fitting symbol of religious worship.\nYet, in the end, they are all ready to tolerate any aberration of\nreligious fancy which is justified by its use.(2072) The most perfect\nsymbol is only a faint adumbration of \u201cthe Father and Creator of all, Who\nis older than the sun and heavens, stronger than time and the ages and the\nfleeting world of change, unnamed by any lawgiver, Whom tongue cannot\nexpress nor eye see. Helpless to grasp His real essence, we seek a stay in\nnames or images, in beast or plant, in river or mountain, in lustrous\nforms of gold and silver and ivory. Whatever we have of fairest we call by\nHis name. And for love of Him, we cling, as lovers are wont, to anything\nwhich recalls Him. I quarrel not with divers imagery, if we seek to know,\nto love, to remember Him.\u201d(2073) This is the outburst of a tolerant and\neclectic Platonism, ready to condone everything in the crudest religious\nimagery. But a more conscientious scrutiny even of Grecian legend\ndemanded, as we shall see, a deeper solution to account for dark rites and\nlegends which cast a shadow on the Infinite Purity.\n\nThe Stoic theology, which resolved the gods of legend into thin\nabstractions, various potencies of the Infinite Spirit interfused with the\nuniverse,(2074) was in some respects congenial to the Roman mind, and\nreflected the spirit of old Roman religion. That religion of arid\nabstractions, to which no myth, no haunting charm of poetic imagination\nattached,(2075) easily lent itself to a system which explained the gods by\nallegory or physical rationalism. That was not an eirenicon for the second\ncentury, at least among thoughtful, pious men. The philosophic effort of\nso many centuries had ended in an eclecticism for purely moral culture,\nand a profound scepticism as to the attainment of higher truth by unaided\nreason.(2076) Mere intellectual curiosity, the desire of knowledge for its\nown sake, and the hope of attaining it, are strangely absent from the\nloftiest minds, from Seneca, Epictetus, and M. Aurelius.(2077) Men like\nLucian, sometimes in half melancholy, half scornful derision, amused\nthemselves with ridiculing the chaotic results of the intellectual\nambition of the past.(2078) They equally recognised the immense force of\nthat spiritual movement which was trying every avenue of accredited\nreligious system or novel superstition, that might perchance lead the\ndevotee to some glimpse of the divine world. And side by side with the\nrecrudescence of old-world superstitions, there were spreading, from\nwhatever source, loftier and more ethical conceptions of God, a dim sense\nof sin and human weakness, a need of cleansing and support from a Divine\nhand. Stoicism, with all its austere grandeur, had failed in its\ninterpretation both of man and of God. Popular theology, however soothing\nto old associations and unregenerate feelings, often gave a shock to the\nquickened moral sense and the higher spiritual intuitions. Yet the\nvenerable charm of time-honoured ritual, glad or stately, the emotional\neffects and dim promise of revelation in the mysteries of many shrines,\nthe seductive allurements of new cults, with a strange blending of the\nsensuous and the mystic, all wove around the human soul such an enchanted\nmaze of spiritual fascination that escape was impossible, even if it were\ndesired. But it was no longer desired even by the highest intellects. The\nefforts of pure reason to solve the mystery of God and of man\u2019s destiny\nhad failed. Yet men were ever \u201cfeeling after God, if haply they might find\nHim.\u201d And the God whom they sought for was one on whom they might hang, in\nwhom they might have rest. Where was the revelation to come from? Where\nwas the mediator to be sought to reconcile the ancient faiths or fables\nwith a purified conception of the Deity and the aspiration for a higher\nmoral life?\n\nThe revived Pythagorean and Platonist philosophy which girded itself to\nattempt the solution was really part of a great spiritual movement, with\nits focus at Alexandria.(2079) In that meeting-point of the East and West,\nof all systems of thought and worship, syncretism blended all faiths.\nHadrian, in his letter to Servianus, cynically observes that the same men\nwere ready to worship impartially Serapis or Christ.(2080) Philosophy\nbecame more and more a religion; its first and highest aim is a right\nknowledge of God. And philosophy, having failed to find help in the life\naccording to nature, or the divine element in individual consciousness,\nhad now to seek support in a God transcending nature and consciousness, a\nGod such as the mysticism of the East or the systems of Pythagoras and\nPlato had foreshadowed. But such a God, transcending nature and\nconsciousness, remote, ineffable, only, in some rare moment of supreme\nexaltation, dimly apprehensible by the human spirit,(2081) could not call\nforth fully the loving trust and fervent reverence which men longed to\noffer. Heaven being so far from earth, and earth so darkened by the mists\nof sense, any gleam of revelation must be welcomed from whatever quarter\nit might break. And thus an all-embracing syncretism, while it gratified\nancestral piety, and the natural instinct of all religion to root itself\nin the past, offered the hope of illumination from converging lights. Or\nrather, any religion which has won the reverence of men may transmit a ray\nfrom the central Sun. The believer in God, who longs for communion with\nHim, for help at His hands, might by reverent selection win from all\nreligions something to satisfy his needs. A revelation was the imperious\ndemand. Where should men be so likely to find it as in the reverent study\nof great historic efforts of humanity to pierce the veil?\n\nThe philosophy which was to attempt the revival of paganism in the second\ncentury, and which was to fight its last battles in the fourth and fifth,\ntraced itself to Pythagoras and Plato. Plato\u2019s affinity with the older\nmystic is well known. And the reader of the _Phaedo_ or the _Republic_\nwill not be surprised to find the followers of the two masters of Greek\nthought who believed most in a spiritual vision and in an ordered moral\nlife, united in an effort which extended to the close of the Western\nEmpire,(2082) to combine a lofty mysticism with ancestral faith. The two\nsystems had much in common, and yet each contributed a peculiar element to\nthe great movement. Pythagoreanism, although its origin is veiled in\nmystery, was always full of the mysticism of the East. Platonism was\nessentially the philosophy of Greek culture. The movement in which their\nforces were combined was one in which the new Hellenism of Hadrian\u2019s reign\nreinforced itself for the reconstruction of western paganism with those\npurer and loftier ideas of God of which the East is the original home. The\neffort of paganism to rehabilitate itself in the second century drew no\nsmall part of its inspiration from the regions which were the cradle of\nthe Christian faith.(2083)\n\nSeneca seems to regard Pythagoreanism as extinct.(2084) Yet one of his own\nteachers, Sotion, practised its asceticism,(2085) and in the first century\nB.C., the traces of at least ninety treatises by members of the school\nhave been recovered by antiquarian care, many of them forgeries foisted on\nancient names.(2086) As a didactic system, indeed, the school had long\ndisappeared, but the Pythagorean _askesis_ seems never to have lost its\ncontinuity. It drew down the ridicule of the New Comedy. It may have had a\nshare in forming the Essene and Therapeutic discipline.(2087) In the first\ncentury B.C. it had a distinguished adherent in P. Nigidius Figulus, and a\nlearned expositor in Alexander Polyhistor. Its enduring power as a\nspiritual creed congenial to paganism is shown by the fact that\nIamblichus, one of the latest Neo-Platonists, and one of the ardent\ndevotees of superstition, expounded the Pythagorean system in many\ntreatises and composed an imaginative biography of the great\nfounder.(2088) To the modern it is best known through the romantic life of\nApollonius of Tyana, by Philostratus, which was composed at the instance\nof Julia Domna, the wife of Septimius Severus, who combined with a\ndoubtful virtue a love for the mysticism of her native East.(2089)\nApollonius is surrounded by his biographer with an atmosphere of mystery\nand miracle. But although the critical historian must reject much of the\nnarrative, the faith of the Pythagorean missionary of the reign of\nDomitian stands out in clear outline. Apollonius is a true representative\nof the new spiritual movement. His mother had a vision before his birth.\nHis early training at Aegae was eclectic, like the spirit of the age, and\nhe heard the teaching of doctors of all the schools, not even excluding\nthe Epicurean.(2090) But he early devoted himself to the severe asceticism\nof the Pythagorean sect, wore pure linen, abstained from wine and flesh,\nobserved the five years of silence, and made the temple his home. The\nworship of Asclepius, which was then gaining an extraordinary vogue, had a\nspecial attraction for him, with its atmosphere of serenity and ritual\npurity and its dream oracles of beneficent healing. Apollonius combines in\na strange fashion, like Plutarch and the eclectic Platonists, a decided\nmonotheism with a conservative devotion to the ancient gods. He looks to\nthe East, to the sages of the Ganges, for the highest inspiration. He\nworships the sun every day.(2091) Yet he has a profound interest in the\npopular religion of the many lands through which he travelled. He\nfrequented the temples of all the gods, discoursed with the priests on the\nancient lore of their shrines, and corrected or restored, with an\nauthority which seems to have never been challenged, their ritual where it\nhad been forgotten or mutilated in the lapse of ages.(2092) He sought\ninitiation in all the mysteries. He wrote a book on Sacrifices which dealt\nwith the most minute details of worship.(2093) He had a profound interest\nin ancient legend, and the fame of the great Hellenic heroes, and, having\nspent a weird night with the shade of Achilles in the Troad, he\nconstrained the Thessalians to restore his fallen honours.(2094) The\ntemples recognised in him at once a champion and a reformer. The oracular\nseats of Ionia showed an unenvious admiration of his gift of prophecy, and\nhailed him as a true son of Apollo.(2095) His visit to Rome in the darkest\nhour of the Neronian terror seems to have aroused a strange religious\nfervour; the temples were thronged with worshippers; it was a heathen\nrevival.(2096)\n\nYet this strange missionary held principles which ought to have been fatal\nto heathen worship. He drew his central principle from Eastern pantheism,\nwhich might seem irreconcilable with the anthropomorphism of the West. It\nis true that under the Infinite Spirit, as in the Platonist th\u00e9odic\u00e9e, the\ngods of heathen devotion find a place as His ministers and viceroys.(2097)\nBut the eternal antithesis of spirit and matter, and the contempt for the\nbody as a degrading prison of the divine element in man,(2098) the ascetic\ntheory that by crucifying the flesh and attenuating its powers, the spirit\nmight lay itself open to heavenly influences, these are doctrines which\nmight appear utterly hostile to a gross materialist ritual. And as a\nmatter of fact, Apollonius to some extent obeyed his principles. He\nscorned the popular conception of divination and magic.(2099) The only\nlegitimate power of foreseeing the future or influencing the material\nworld is given to the soul which is pure from all fleshly taint and\ntherefore near to God. He feels profoundly that the myths propagated by\nthe poets have lowered the ideal of God and the character of man, and he\ngreatly prefers the fables of Aesop, which use the falsehoods of the fancy\nfor a definite moral end.(2100) The mutilation of a father, the storming\nof Olympus by the Giants, incest and adultery among the gods, must be\nreprobated, however they have been glorified by poetry. Apollonius poured\ncontempt on the animal worship of Egypt, even when defended by the\ndialectic subtlety of Greece.(2101) He was repelled by the grossness of\nbloody sacrifices, however consecrated by immemorial use. For the nobler\nsymbolism of Hellenic art he had a certain sympathy, like Dion, but only\nas symbolism. Any sensible image of the Supreme, which does not carry the\nsoul beyond the bounds of sense, defeats its purpose and is degrading to\npure religion. Pictured or sculptured forms are only aids to that mystic\nimagination through which alone we can see God. Finally, his idea of\nprayer is intensely spiritual or ethical. \u201cGrant me, ye gods, what is my\ndue\u201d is the highest prayer of Apollonius.(2102) Yet, as we have already\nseen, the religion of Apollonius is thoroughly practical. He was a great\npreacher. He addressed vast crowds from the temple steps at Ephesus or\nOlympia, rebuking their luxury and effeminacy, their feuds and mean civic\nambition, their love of frivolous sports or the bloody strife of the\narena.(2103) Next to the knowledge of God, he preached the importance of\nself-knowledge, and of lending an attentive ear to the voice of\nconscience. He crowned his life by asserting fearlessly the cause of\nrighteousness in the awful presence-chamber of Domitian.\n\nAbout the very time when Apollonius was bearding the last of the Flavians,\nand preaching a pagan revival in the porticoes of the Roman temples, it is\nprobable that Plutarch, in some respects a kindred spirit, was making his\nappearance as a lecturer at Rome.(2104) The greatest of biographers has\nhad no authentic biography himself.(2105) The few certain facts about his\nlife must be gleaned from his own writings. He was the descendant of an\nancient family of Chaeronea, famous as the scene of three historic\nbattles, \u201cthe War-God\u2019s dancing-place,\u201d and his great-grandfather had\ntales of the great conflict at Actium.(2106) In the year 66 A.D., when\nNero was distinguishing or disgracing himself as a competitor at the Greek\nfestivals, Plutarch was a young student at the university of Athens, under\nAmmonius,(2107) who, if he inspired him with admiration for Plato, also\ntaught him to draw freely from all the treasures of Greek thought.\nPlutarch, before he finally settled down at Chaeronea, saw something of\nthe great Roman world. He had visited Alexandria and some part of Asia\nMinor.(2108) He was at an early age employed to represent his native town\non public business,(2109) and he had thus visited Rome, probably in the\nreign of Vespasian, and again, in the reign of Domitian.(2110) It was a\ntime when original genius in Roman literature was showing signs of\nfailure, but when minute antiquarian learning was becoming a\npassion.(2111) It was also the age of the new sophist. Hellenism was in\nthe air, and the lecture theatres were thronged to hear the philosophic\norator or the professional artist in words.(2112) Although Plutarch is\nnever mentioned beside men like Euphrates, in Pliny\u2019s letters, he found an\naudience at Rome, and the famous Arulenus Rusticus was once among his\nhearers.(2113) While he was ransacking the imperial libraries, he also\nformed the acquaintance, at pleasant social parties, of many men of\nacademic and official fame, some of whom belonged to the circle of Pliny\nand Tacitus.(2114)\n\nBut his native Greece, with its great memories, and his native Chaeronea,\nto which he was linked by ancestral piety, had for a man like Plutarch far\nstronger charms than the capital of the world. With our love of excitement\nand personal prominence, it is hard to conceive how a man of immense\nculture and brilliant literary power could endure the monotony of\nbourgeois society in depopulated and decaying Greece.(2115) Yet Plutarch\nseems to have found it easy, and even pleasant. He was too great to allow\nhis own scheme of life to be crossed and disturbed by vulgar opinion or\nephemeral ambition. His family relations were sweet and happy. His married\nlife realised the highest ideals of happy wedlock.(2116) He had the\nrespectful affection of his brothers and older kinsmen. The petty\nmagistracies, in which he made it a duty to serve his native town, were\ndignified in his eyes by the thought that Epameinondas had once been\ncharged with the cleansing of the streets of Thebes.(2117) His priesthood\nof Apollo at Delphi was probably far more attractive than the imperial\nhonours which, according to legend, were offered to him by Trajan and\nHadrian.(2118) To his historic and religious imagination the ancient\nshrine which looked down on the gulf from the foot of the \u201cShining Rocks,\u201d\nwas sacred as no other spot on earth. Although in Plutarch\u2019s day Delphi\nhad declined in splendour and fame,(2119) it was still surrounded with the\nglamour of immemorial sanctity and power. It was still the spot from which\ndivine voices of warning or counsel had issued to the kings of Lydia, to\nchiefs of wild hordes upon the Strymon, to the envoys of the Roman\nTarquins, to every city of Hellenic name from the Euxine to the Atlantic.\nWe can still almost make the round of its antiquarian treasures under his\ngenial guidance. Probably Plutarch\u2019s happiest hours were spent in\naccompanying a party of visitors,\u2014a professor on his way home from Britain\nto Tarsus, a Spartan traveller just returned from far Indian seas,\u2014around\nthose sacred scenes; we can hear the debate on the doubtful quality of\nDelphic verse or the sources of its inspiration: we can watch them pause\nto recall the story of mouldering bronze or marble, and wake the echoes of\na thousand years.(2120)\n\nPlutarch must have been a swift and indefatigable worker, for his\nproduction is almost on the scale of Varro, Cicero, or the elder Pliny.\nYet he found time for pleasant visits to every part of Greece which had\ntales or treasures for the antiquary. He enjoyed the friendship of the\nbrightest intellects of the day, of Herodes Atticus, the millionaire\nrhetorician,(2121) of Favorinus, the great sophist of Gaul, the intimate\nfriend of Herodes and the counsellor of the Emperor Hadrian, of Ammonius,\nwho was Plutarch\u2019s tutor; of many others, noted in their time, but who are\nmere shadows to us. They met in a convivial way in many places, at\nChaeronea, at Hyampolis, at Eleusis after the Mysteries, at Patrae, at\nCorinth during the Isthmian games, at Thermopylae, and Athens in the house\nof Ammonius, or at Aedepsus, the Baden of Euboea, where in the springtime\npeople found pleasant lodgings and brisk intercourse to relieve the\nmonotony of attendance at the baths.(2122) Plutarch had a large circle of\nrelatives,\u2014his grandfather Lamprias, who had tales from an actual witness\nof the revels of Antony at Alexandria;(2123) Lamprias his elder brother, a\ntrue Boeotian in his love of good fare, a war-dance, and a jest;(2124) his\nyounger brother Timon, to whom Plutarch was devotedly attached.(2125) His\nordinary society, not very distinguished socially, was composed of\ngrammarians, rhetoricians, country doctors, the best that the district\ncould afford.(2126) The talk is often on the most trivial or absurd\nsubjects, though not more absurdly trivial than those on which the\npolished sophist displayed his graces in the lecture-hall.(2127) Yet\ngraver and more serious themes are not excluded,(2128) and the table-talk\nof Greece in the end of the first century is invaluable to the student of\nsociety. In such scenes Plutarch not only cultivated friendship, the great\nart of life, not only watched the play of intellect and character; he also\nfound relief from the austere labours which have made his fame. It is\nsurely not the least of his titles to greatness that, in an environment\nwhich to most men of talent would have been infinitely depressing, with\nthe irrepressible vitality of genius he contrived to idealise the society\nof decaying Greece by linking it with the past.\n\nAnd, with such a power of reviving the past, even the dulness of the\nlittle Boeotian town was easily tolerable. We can imagine Plutarch looking\ndown the quiet street in the still vacant noontide, as he sat trying to\nrevive the ancient glories of his race, and to match them with their\nconquerors, while he reminded the lords of the world, who, in Plutarch\u2019s\nearly youth, seemed to be wildly squandering their heritage, of the stern,\nsimple virtue by which it had been won. For in the Lives of great Greeks\nand Romans, the moral interest is the most prominent. It is biography, not\nhistory, which Plutarch is writing.(2129) Setting and scenery of course\nthere must be; but Plutarch\u2019s chief object is to paint the character of\nthe great actors on the stage. Hence he may slur over or omit historic\nfacts of wider interest, while he records apparently trivial incidents or\nsayings which light up a character. But Plutarch has a fine eye both for\nlively social scenes and the great crises of history. The description of\nthe feverish activity of swarming industry in the great days of Pheidias\nat Athens, once read, can never be forgotten.(2130) Equally indelible are\nthe pictures of the younger Cato\u2019s last morning, as he finished the\n_Phaedo_, and the birds began to twitter,(2131) of the flight and murder\nof Pompey, of the suicide of Otho on the ghastly field of Bedriacum, which\nseemed to atone for an evil life. Nor can we forget his description of one\nof the saddest of all scenes in Greek history, which moved even Thucydides\nto a restrained pathos,\u2014the retreat of the Athenians from the walls of\nSyracuse.\n\nPlutarch was before all else a moralist, with a genius for religion. His\nethical treatises deserve to be thoroughly explored, and as\nsympathetically expounded, for the light which they throw on the moral\naspirations of the age, as Dr. Mahaffy has skilfully used them for\npictures of its social life. He must be a very unimaginative person who\ncannot feel the charm of their revelation. But the man of purely\nspeculative interest will probably be disappointed. Plutarch is not an\noriginal thinker in morals or religion. He has no new gospel to expound.\nHe does not go to the roots of conduct or faith. Possessing a very wide\nknowledge of past speculation, he might have written an invaluable history\nof ancient philosophy. But he has not done it. And, as a man of genius,\nwith a strong practical purpose to do moral good to his fellows, his\nchoice of his vocation must be accepted without cavil. He was the greatest\nHellenist of his day, when Hellenism was capturing the Roman world. He was\nalso a man of high moral ideals, sincere piety, and absorbing interest in\nthe fate of human character. With all that wealth of learning, philosophic\nor historical, with all that knowledge of human nature, what nobler task\ncould a man set himself than to attempt to give some practical guidance to\na generation conscious of moral weakness, and distracted between new\nspiritual ideals and the mythologies of the past? The urgent need for\nmoral culture and reform of character, for a guiding force in conduct, was\nprofoundly felt by all the great serious minds of the Flavian age, by\nPliny and Tacitus, by Juvenal and Quintilian. But Plutarch probably felt\nit more acutely than any, and took endless pains to satisfy it. It was an\nage when the philosophic director and the philosophic preacher were, as we\nhave seen, to be met with everywhere. And Plutarch took his full share in\nthe movement, and influenced a wide circle.(2132) If he did not elaborate\nan original ethical system, he had studied closely the art of moral\nreform, and Christian homilists, from Basil to Jeremy Taylor, have drawn\nfreely from the storehouse of his precept and observation. In many tracts\nhe has analysed prevailing vices and faults of his time,\u2014flattery, vain\ncuriosity, irritable temper, or false modesty,\u2014and given rules for curing\nor avoiding them. In these homilies, the fundamental principle is that of\nMusonius, perhaps adapted from an oracle to the people of Cirrha \u201cto wage\nwar with vice day and night, and never to relax your guard.\u201d(2133) The\ncall to reform sounded all the louder in Plutarch\u2019s ears because of the\nhigh ideal which he had conceived of what life might be made if, no longer\nleft to the play of passion and random influences, character were moulded\nfrom early youth to a temperate harmony. To such a soul each passing day\nmight be a glad festival, the universe an august temple full of its\nMaker\u2019s glories, and life an initiation into the joy of its holy\nmysteries.(2134)\n\nIn the work of moral and religious reconstruction Plutarch and his\ncontemporaries could only rely on philosophy as their guide. Philosophy to\nPlutarch, Apollonius, or M. Aurelius, had a very different meaning from\nwhat it bore to the great thinkers of Ionia and Magna Graecia. Not only\nhad it deserted the field of metaphysical speculation; it had lost\ninterest even in the mere theory of morals. It had become the art rather\nthan the science of life. The teacher of an art cannot indeed entirely\ndivorce it from all scientific theory. The relative importance of\npractical precept and ethical theory was often debated in that age. But\nthe tendency was undoubtedly to subordinate dogma to edification.(2135)\nAnd where dogma was needed for practical effect, it might be drawn from\nthe most opposite quarters. Seneca delights in rounding off a letter by a\nquotation from Epicurus. M. Aurelius appeals both to the example of\nEpicurus and the teaching of Plato.(2136) Man might toy with cosmic\nspeculation; the Timaeus had many commentators in the first and second\ncenturies.(2137) But, for Plutarch and his contemporaries, the great task\nof philosophy was to bring some sort of order into the moral and religious\nchaos. It was not original thought or discovery which was needed, but the\napplication of reason, cultivated by the study of the past, to the moral\nand religious problems of the present. The philosopher sometimes, to our\neyes, seems to trifle with the smallest details of exterior deportment or\nidiom or dress; he gives precepts about the rearing of children; he\noccupies himself with curious questions of ritual and antiquarian\ninterest.(2138) These seeming degradations of a great mission, after all,\nonly emphasise the fact that philosophy was now concerned with human life\nrather than with the problems of speculation. It had in fact become an\nall-embracing religion. It supplied the medicine for moral disease; it\nfurnished the rational criterion by which all myth and ritual must be\njudged or explained.(2139)\n\nPlutarch was an eclectic in the sense that, knowing all the moral systems\nof the past, he was ready to borrow from any of these principles which\nmight give support to character. Whether, if he had been born four or five\nhundred years earlier, he might have created or developed an original\ntheory himself, is a question which may be variously answered. One may\nreasonably hesitate to assent to the common opinion that Plutarch had no\ngenius for original speculation. Had he come under the influence of\nSocrates, it is not so certain that he might not have composed dialogues\nwith a certain charm of fresh dialectic and picturesque dramatic power. It\nis a little unhistorical to decry a man of genius as wanting in\nspeculative originality, who was born into an age when speculation had run\ndry, and thought was only subsidiary to conduct. When the dissonant\nschools forsook the heights of metaphysic and cosmology to devote\nthemselves to moral culture, an inevitable tendency to eclecticism, to a\nharmony of moral theory, set in. The practical interest prevailed over the\ninfinitely divisive forces of the speculative reason. Antiochus, the\nteacher of Cicero,(2140) while he strove to re-establish Platonism,\nmaintained the essential agreement of the great schools on the\nall-important questions, and freely adopted the doctrines of Zeno and\nAristotle.(2141) Panaetius, the chief representative of Roman Stoicism in\nthe second century B.C., had a warm admiration for Plato and Aristotle,\nand in some essential points forsook the older teaching of the\nPorch.(2142) Seneca, as we have seen, often seems to cling to the most\nhard and repellent tenets of the ancient creed. Yet a sense of practical\ndifficulties has led him to soften and modify many of them\u2014the identity of\nreason and passion, the indifference of so-called \u201cgoods,\u201d the necessity\nof instantaneous conversion, the unapproachable and unassailable\nperfection of the wise man. Plutarch\u2019s own ethical system, so far as he\nhas a system, is a compound of Platonic and Aristotelian ideas, with a\ncertain tincture of Stoicism.(2143) Platonism, which had shaken off its\nsceptical tendencies in the first century B.C., had few adherents at Rome\nin the first century of the Empire.(2144) The Stoic and Epicurean systems\ndivided the allegiance of thinking people till the energetic revival of\nHellenism set in. Epictetus indeed speaks of women who were attracted by\nthe supposed freedom of sexual relations in Plato\u2019s Utopia.(2145) Seneca\noften refers to Plato, and was undoubtedly influenced by his spirit. But\nin the second century, the sympathetic union of Platonic and Pythagorean\nideas with a vigorous religious revival became a real power, with\nmomentous effects on the future of philosophy and religion for three\ncenturies. Plutarch\u2019s reverence for the founder of the Academy, even in\nlittle things, was unbounded.(2146) It became with him almost a kind of\ncult. And he paid the most sincere reverence to his idol by imitating, in\nsome of his treatises, the mythical colouring by which the author of the\n_Phaedo_ and the _Republic_ had sought to give body and reality to the\nunseen world.(2147) Plutarch condemned in very strong language the coarse\nand sophistical modes of controversy with which the rival schools assailed\none another\u2019s tenets.(2148) Yet he can hardly be acquitted of some\nharshness in his polemic against the Stoics and Epicureans. Archbishop\nTrench, in his fascinating and sympathetic treatment of Plutarch, laments\nthat he did not give a more generous recognition to that noblest and most\ntruly Roman school which was the last refuge and citadel of freedom.(2149)\nWe may join the archbishop in wishing that Plutarch, without compromising\nprinciple, had been more tolerant to a system with which he had so much in\ncommon, and which, in his day, had put off much of its old hardness. But\nhe was essentially a practical man, with a definite moral aim. He took\nfrom any quarter principles which seemed to him to be true to human\nnature, and which furnished a hopeful basis for the efforts of the moral\nteacher. But he felt equally bound to reject a system which absorbed and\nannihilated the emotional nature in the reason,(2150) which cut at the\nroots of moral freedom, which recognised no degrees in virtue or in vice,\nwhich discouraged and contemned the first faint struggles of weak humanity\nafter a higher life, and froze it into hopeless impotence by the remote\nideal of a cold, flawless perfection, suddenly and miraculously raised to\na divine independence of all the minor blessings and helps to\nvirtue.(2151) Such an ideal may be magnificent, but it is not life. For\nman, constituted as he is, and placed in such an environment, it is a\ndangerous mental habit to train the soul to regard all things as a\nfleeting and monotonous show, to cultivate the _taedium vitae_, or a calm\nresignation to the littleness of man placed for a brief space between the\ntwo eternities.(2152) The philosophic sufferer may brace himself to endure\nthe round of human duties, and to live for the commonwealth of man; he may\nhe generous to the ungrateful and tolerant to the vulgar and the\nfrivolous; he may make his life a perpetual sacrifice to duty and the\nhigher law, but it is all the while really a pathetic protest against the\npitiless Power which has made man so little and so great, doomed to the\nlife of the leaves and the insects, yet tortured with the longing for an\ninfinite future.\n\nOn some great central truths, such as the inwardness of happiness and the\nbrotherhood of man, Plutarch and the Stoics were at one. And the general\ntone of his moral teaching bears many marks of Stoic influence.(2153) But\nthe Stoic psychology, the Stoic fatalism and pantheism aroused all the\ncontroversial vehemence of Plutarch.(2154) The Stoic held the essential\nunity of the soul, that reason and passion are not two distinct\nprinciples, but that passion is reason depraved and diverted to wrong\nobjects. It is the same simple, indivisible power which shifts and changes\nand submits itself to opposing influences. Passion, in fact, is an\nimpetuous and erring motion of the reason, and vice, in the old Socratic\nphrase, is an error of judgment, a fit of ignorance of the true ends of\naction. But as, according to Stoic theory, the human reason is a portion\nof the Divine, depravity becomes thus a corruption of the Divine element,\nand the guarantee for any hope of reform is lost. For himself, Plutarch\nadopts the Platonic division of the soul into the rational, spirited, and\nconcupiscent elements, with some Aristotelian modifications.(2155) The\ngreat fact of man\u2019s moral nature is the natural opposition between the\npassions and the rational element of the soul; it corresponds to a similar\ndivision in the mundane soul.(2156) All experience attests a constant,\nnatural, and sustained rebellion of the lower against the higher.\nPrinciples so alien and disparate cannot be identified, any more than you\ncan identify the hunter and his quarry.(2157) But, although in the\nunregulated character, they are in violent opposition, they may, by proper\nculture, be brought at last into a harmony. The function of the higher\nelement is not to extinguish the lower, but to guide and control and\nelevate it.(2158) Passion is a force which may be wasted in vagrant, wild\nexcess, but which may also be used to give force and energy to virtue. To\navoid drunkenness, a man need not spill the wine; he may temper its\nstrength. A controlled anger is the spur of courage. Passion in effect is\nthe raw material which is moulded by reason into the forms of practical\nvirtue, and the guiding principle in the process is the law of the mean\nbetween excess and defect of passion.(2159) This is, of course, borrowed\nfrom Aristotle, and along with it the theory of education by habit, which\nto Plato had seemed a popular and inferior conception of the formation of\nthe virtuous character.(2160) By the strong pressure of an enlightened\nwill, the wild insurgent forces of the lower nature are brought into\nconformity to a higher law. It is a slow, laborious process, demanding\ninfinite patience, daily and hourly watchfulness, self-examination, frank\nconfession of faults to some friend or wise director of souls.(2161) It\nneeds the minutest attention to the details of conduct and circumstance,\nand a steady front against discouragement from the backsliding of the\nwavering will.(2162) In such a system the hope of reform lies not in any\nsudden revolution. Plutarch has no faith in instant conversion, reversing\nin a moment the ingrained tendencies of years, and setting a man on a\nlofty height of perfection, with no fear of falling away. That vain dream\nof the older Stoicism, which recognised no degrees in virtuous progress,\nmade virtue an unapproachable ideal, and paralysed struggling effort. It\nwas not for an age stricken or blest with a growing sense of moral\nweakness, and clutching eagerly at any spiritual stay. Plutarch loves\nrather to think of character under the image of a holy and royal building\nwhose foundations are laid in gold, and each stone has to be chosen and\ncarefully fitted to the line of reason.(2163)\n\nPlutarch also accepted from the Peripatetic school the principle, which\nSeneca was in the end compelled to admit, that the finest paragon of\nwisdom and virtue is not quite self-sufficing, that virtuous activity\nneeds material to work upon,(2164) and that the good things of the world,\nin their proper place, are as necessary to the moral musician as the flute\nto the flute-player. Above all, Plutarch, with such a theory of character,\nwas bound to assert the cardinal doctrine of human freedom. He had a\nprofound faith in a threefold Providence, exercised by the remote Supreme\nDeity, by the inferior heavenly powers, and by the daemons.(2165) But\nProvidence is a beneficent influence, not a crushing force of necessity.\nTo Plutarch fatalism is the blight of moral effort. Foreknowledge and Fate\nare not conterminous and coextensive. Although everything is foreseen by\nheavenly powers, not everything is foreordained.(2166) The law of Fate,\nlike the laws of earthly jurisprudence, deals with the universal, and only\nconsequentially with the particular case. Certain consequences follow\nnecessarily from certain acts, but the acts are not inevitably\ndetermined.(2167) Man, by nature the most helpless and defenceless of\nanimals, becomes lord of creation by his superior reason, and appropriates\nall its forces and its wealth by his laborious arts.(2168) And the art of\narts, the art of life, neither trusting to chance nor cowed by any fancied\nomnipotence of destiny, uses the will and reason to master the materials\nout of which happiness is forged. Thus the hope of a noble life is\nsecurely fenced in the fortress of the autonomous will. To the Stoic the\nvicious man was a fool, whose reason was hopelessly besotted. The\nPlatonist cherished the better hope, that reason, though darkened for a\ntime and vanquished by the forces of sense, could never assent to sin,\nthat there still remained in every human soul a witness to the eternal law\nof conduct.\n\nWith such a faith as this, an earnest man like Plutarch was bound to\nbecome a preacher of righteousness and a spiritual director. Many of his\nmoral treatises are the expanded record of private counsel or the more\nformal instruction of the lecture-hall. He had disciples all over the\nRoman world, at Rome, Chaeronea, Ephesus, and Athens.(2169) His conception\nof the philosophic gathering, in which these serious things were\ndiscussed, is perhaps the nearest approach which a heathen ever made to\nthe conception of the Christian church.(2170) In theory, the philosopher\u2019s\ndiscourse on high moral themes was a more solemn affair than the showy\ndeclamation of the sophist, whose chief object was to dazzle and astonish\nhis audience by a display of rhetorical legerdemain on the most trivial or\nout-worn themes. But the moral preacher in those days, it is to be feared,\noften forgot the seriousness of his mission, and degraded it by personal\nvanity and a tinsel rhetoric to win a cheap applause.(2171) The sophist\nand the philosopher were in fact too often undistinguishable, and the\nphilosophic class-room often resounded with new-fangled expressions of\nadmiration. For all this Plutarch has an indignant contempt. It is the\nprostitution of a noble mission. It is turning the school into a theatre,\nand the reformer of souls into a flatterer of the ear. To ask rhetoric\nfrom the true philosopher is as if one should require a medicine to be\nserved in the finest Attic ware.(2172) The profession of philosophy\nbecomes in Plutarch\u2019s eyes a real priesthood for the salvation of souls.\nHe disapproves of the habit, which prevailed in the sophist\u2019s lecture\ntheatre, of proposing subtle or frivolous questions to the lecturer in\norder to make a display of cleverness. But he would have those in moral\ndifficulty to remain after the sermon, for such it was, and lay bare their\nfaults and spiritual troubles.(2173) He watched the moral progress of his\ndisciples, as when Fundanus is congratulated on his growing mildness of\ntemper.(2174) The philosopher was in those days, and often too truly,\ncharged with gross inconsistency in his private conduct. Plutarch believed\nemphatically in teaching by example. The preacher of the higher life\nshould inspire such respect that his frown or smile shall at once affect\nthe disciple.(2175) Plutarch evidently practised his remedies on himself.\nHis great gallery of the heroes of the past was primarily intended to\nprofit others. But he found, as the work went on, that he was himself\n\u201cmuch profited by looking into these histories, as if he looked into a\nglass, to frame and fashion his life to the mould and pattern of these\nvirtuous noblemen.\u201d(2176)\n\nPlutarch, as we have seen, waged determined war with the older Stoic and\nEpicurean systems; yet his practical teaching is coloured by the spirit of\nboth. This is perhaps best seen in the tract on Tranquillity, which might\nalmost have been written by Seneca. Although Plutarch elsewhere holds the\nPeripatetic doctrine that the full life of virtue cannot dispense with the\nexternal gifts of fortune, he asserts as powerfully as any Stoic that life\ntakes its predominant colour from the character, that \u201cthe kingdom of\nHeaven is within,\u201d that no change of external fortune can calm the tumults\nof the soul. You seem to be listening to a Stoic doctor when you hear that\nmost calamities draw their weight and bitterness from imagination, that\nexcessive desire for a thing engenders the fear of losing it, and makes\nenjoyment feeble and uncertain, that men, by forgetting the past in the\nvanishing present, lose the continuity of their lives.(2177) Is it\nPlutarch himself, or some Christian preacher, who tells us that seeming\ncalamity may be the greatest blessing, that the greatest folly is\nunthankfulness and discontent with the daily lot, that no wealth or rank\ncan give such enchanted calm of spirit as a conscience unstained by evil\ndeed or thought, and the power of facing fortune with steady open\neye?(2178) It is surely the greatest literary genius of his age, buried in\na dull Boeotian town, who bids us think of the good things we have,\ninstead of envying a life whose inner griefs we know not, who ever looks\non the brighter side of things and dignifies an obscure lot by grateful\ncontent, who is not vexed by another\u2019s splendid fortune, because he knows\nthat seeming success is often a miserable failure, and that each one has\nwithin him the springs of happiness or misery.(2179)\n\nThe discipline by which this wise mood, which contains the wisdom of all\nthe ages, is to be attained is expounded by Plutarch in many tracts, which\nare the record of much spiritual counsel. The great secret is a lover\u2019s\npassion for the ideal and a scorn for the vulgar objects of desire.(2180)\nYet moral growth must be slow, though steady and unpausing, not the rush\nof feverish excitement, which may be soon spent and exhausted.(2181) The\ntrue aspirant to moral perfection will not allow himself to be cast down\nby the obstacles that meet him at the entrance to the narrow way, nor will\nhe be beguiled by pomp of style or subtlety of rhetoric to forget the true\ninwardness of philosophy. He will not ask for any witness of his good\ndeeds or his growth in virtue; he will shrink from the arrogance of the\nmere pretender. Rather will he be humble and modest, harsh to his own\nfaults, gentle to those of others. Like the neophyte in the mysteries, he\nwill be awed into reverent silence, when the light bursts from the inner\nshrine.(2182) This humility will be cultivated by daily self-scrutiny, and\nin this self-examination no sins will seem little, and no addition to the\ngrowing moral wealth, however slight, will be despised.(2183) To stimulate\neffort, we must set the great historic examples of achievement or\nself-conquest before our eyes, and in doubt or difficulty, we must ask\nwhat would Plato or Socrates have done in such a case?(2184) Where they\nhave suffered, we shall love and honour them all the more. Their memory\nwill work as a sacred spell.\n\nPlutarch expounded the gospel of a cheerful and contented life, and he\nevidently practised what he preached. Yet, like all finely strung spirits,\nhe had his hours when the pathos of life was heavy upon him, and death\nseemed the sovereign remedy for it all. Any one who shares the vulgar\nnotion that the Greeks, even of the great age, were a race living in\nperpetual sunshine and careless enjoyment of the hour, should read the\nConsolation to Apollonius on the death of his son. He will there find all\nthe great poets, from Homer downwards, cited in support of the most\npessimist view of human life.(2185) In the field of philosophy, it finds\nthe most withering expression in the doctrine of Heraclitus, which did so\nmuch to mould the thought of Plutarch\u2019s great master, and which coloured\nso many of the meditations of M. Aurelius.(2186) Our life is but in\nminiature a counterpart of the universal flux, and each moment is the\nmeeting place of life and death. Years, many or few, are but a point, a\nmoment in the tract of infinite age.(2187) The noble fulness of a life\nmust be sought not in a sum of years, but in a rounded completeness of\nvirtue. When we look at the chance and change and sorrow of life, death\nseems really the great deliverer, and in certain moments, it may be hailed\nas Heaven\u2019s last, best gift.(2188) Whether it be an unawaking sleep or the\nentrance to another scene of being, it cannot be an evil; it may perchance\nbe a blessing. If there is nothing after it, we only return to our calm\nantenatal unconsciousness.(2189) Or if there be another life, then for the\ngood and noble there is a place assuredly prepared in some happy island of\nthe West, or other mystic region, which we may picture to ourselves, if we\nplease, in the Orphic visions glorified by Pindar.(2190)\n\nWe are now on the threshold of another world, from which many voices were\ncoming to the age of Plutarch. After philosophy has done its utmost to\nmould the life of sixty or seventy years into a moral harmony, with its\nmusic in itself,(2191) the effort ends in a melancholy doubt. The precept\nof Seneca and Plutarch, that you should live under the tutelary eye of\nsome patron sage of the past, revealed a need of exterior help for the\nvirtuous will. The passion for continued existence was sobered by the\nsense of continued moral responsibility and the shadow of a judgment to\ncome. Vistas of a supernatural world opened above the struggling human\nlife on earth and in far mysterious distances beyond. When philosophy had\ndone its utmost to heal the diseases of humanity, it was confronted with\nanother task, to give man a true knowledge of God and assurance of His\nhelp in this world and the next. Philosophy had for ages held before the\neyes of men a dim vision of Him, sublime, remote, ineffable. But it was a\nvision for the few, not for the many. It was rather metaphysical than\nmoral and spiritual. It paid little heed to the myths and mysteries by\nwhich humanity had been seeking to solve its spiritual enigmas. This long\ntravail of humanity could not be ignored by a true religious philosophy.\nSome means must be found to reconcile ancient religious imagination with\nthe best conception of the Divine.\n\nThe problem indeed was not a new one, except in the sense that an intense\nrevival of religious faith or superstition demanded a fresh th\u00e9odic\u00e9e. As\nearly as the sixth century B.C., the simple faith in legend had been\nshaken among the higher minds in a great philosophic movement which\nextended over many ages. Some had rejected the myths with scorn. Others\nhad proceeded by the method of more or less critical selection. Others,\nagain, strove to find in them a historical kernel, or an esoteric meaning\nveiled in allegory. The same methods reappeared in the age of Varro and\nScaevola,(2192) and, five centuries later, in the theology of\nMacrobius.(2193) The effort, however, of the Platonists of the second\ncentury has a peculiar interest, because some fresh elements have been\nadded to the great problem since the days of Xenophanes and Euhemerus and\nVarro.\n\nTo Plutarch, theology is the crown of all philosophy.(2194) To form true\nand worthy conceptions of the Divine Being is not less important than to\npay Him pious worship. Plutarch\u2019s lofty conception of the Infinite and\nSupreme, like that of Maximus of Tyre, dominates all his system. In a\ncurious treatise on Isis and Osiris, he reviews many a device of\nscholastic subtlety, many a crude guess of embryonic science, many a dream\nof Pythagorean mysticism, to find an inner meaning in the Egyptian myth.\nYet it embalms, in all this frigid scholasticism, the highest and purest\nexpression of Plutarch\u2019s idea of the Supreme. In the end he breaks away\nfrom all lower mundane conceptions of the Divine, and reveals a glimpse of\nthe beatific vision. \u201cWhile we are here below,\u201d he says, \u201cencumbered by\nbodily affections, we can have no intercourse with God, save as in\nphilosophic thought we may faintly touch Him, as in a dream. But when our\nsouls are released, and have passed into the region of the pure,\ninvisible, and changeless, this God will be their guide and king who\ndepend on Him and gaze with insatiable longing on the beauty which may not\nbe spoken of by the lips of man.\u201d(2195) To Plutarch God is the One,\nSupreme, Eternal Being, removed to an infinite distance from the mutable\nand mortal\u2014the Being of whom we can only predicate that \u201cHe is,\u201d who lives\nin an everlasting \u201cnow,\u201d of whom it would be irrational and impious to\nspeak in the terms of the future or the past.(2196) He is the One, the\nAbsolute of Eleatic or Pythagorean philosophy, the Demiurgus of Plato, the\nprimal motive power of Aristotle, the World-Soul of the Stoics. Yet\nPlutarch is as far removed from the Epicureanism which banishes God from\nthe universe as he is from the pantheism of east or west, which interfuses\nthe world and God.(2197) Plutarch never abandons the Divine personality,\nin whatever sense he may hold it. God is the highest perfection of\ngoodness and intelligence, the Creator, the watchful and benevolent\nProvidence of the world, the Author of all good. His power, indeed, is not\nunlimited. There is a power of evil in the world which must be recognised.\nAnd, as good cannot be the author of evil, the origin of evil must be\nsought in a separate and original principle, distinct from, but not\nco-equal with, God: a principle recognised in many a theology and\nphilosophy of east and west, and called by many names\u2014Ahriman or Hades,\nthe \u201cdyad\u201d of Pythagoras, the \u201cstrife\u201d of Empedocles, the \u201cother\u201d of\nPlato.(2198) Its seat is the World-Soul, which has a place alongside of\nGod and Matter, causing all that is deadly in nature, all moral disorder\nin the soul of man. Matter is the seat both of evil and good.(2199) In its\nlower regions it may seem to be wholly mastered by the evil principle; yet\nin its essence it is really struggling towards the good, and, as a female\nprinciple, susceptible to the formative influence of the Divine, as well\nas exposed to the incursions of evil. Plutarch\u2019s theory of creation is, in\nthe main, that of the Timaeus, with mingled elements of Stoic cosmogony.\nThrough number and harmony the Divine Mind introduces order into the mass\nof lawless chaos. But while God stands outside the cosmos as its creator,\nHe is not merely the divine craftsman, but a penetrating power. For from\nHim proceeds the soul which is interfused with the world and which\nsustains it. Through the World-Soul, God is in touch with all powers and\nprovinces of the universe. Yet throughout the universe, as in the human\nsoul, there are always present the two elements side by side, the\nprinciples of reason and unreason, of evil and of good.(2200)\n\nThe vision of the one eternal, passionless Spirit, far removed from the\nworld of chance and change and earthly soilure, was the conquest of Greek\nphilosophy, travailing for 800 years. But it was a vision far withdrawn;\nit was separated by an apparently impassable gulf alike from the dreams of\nHellenic legend and from the struggling life of humanity. The poets, and\neven the poet of divinest inspiration, had bequeathed a mass of legend,\noften shocking to the later moral sense, yet always seductive by its\nimaginative charm. How to reconcile the fictions of poetry, which had so\nlong enthralled all imaginations, with higher spiritual intuitions, that\nwas the problem. It was not indeed a new problem. It had driven Xenophanes\ninto open revolt, it had exercised the mind of the reverent Pindar and the\nsceptical Euripides. It had suggested to Plato the necessity of recasting\nmyth in the light of the Divine purity.(2201) But the new Hellenism of the\nsecond century was a great literary, even more than a theological or\nphilosophic, movement; and the glory of Greek literature was inseparably\nlinked with the glory and the shame of Greek mythology. To discard and\nrepudiate the myths was to give the lie to the divine poets. To explain\nthem away by physical allegory, in the fashion of the Stoic theology, or\nto lower the \u201cblessed ones\u201d of Olympus to the stature of earthly kings and\nwarriors, after the manner of Euhemerus, was to break the charm of poetic\nlegend, and violate the instincts of ancestral piety.(2202) And there were\nmany other claimants for devotion beside the ancient gods of Rome and\nGreece. Persia and Phrygia, Commagene and Egypt, every region from the\nSahara to Cumberland, were adding to the pantheon. Soldiers and travellers\nwere bringing their tales of genii and daemons from islands in the British\nseas and the shores of the Indian Ocean.(2203) How could a man trained in\nthe mystic monotheism of 800 years reconcile himself to this immense\naccretion of alien superstition?\n\nOn the other hand, from whatever quarter, a new spiritual vision had\nopened, strange to the ancient world. It is not merely that the conception\nof God has become more pure and lofty; the whole attitude of the higher\nminds to the Eternal had altered. A great spiritual revolution had\nconcurred with a great political revolution. The vision of the divine\nworld which satisfied men in the age of Pericles or in the Punic wars,\nwhen religion, politics, and morality were linked in unbroken harmony,\nwhen, if spiritual vision was bounded, spiritual needs were less\nclamorous, and the moral life less troubled and self-conscious, could no\nlonger appease the yearnings of the higher minds. Both morality and\nreligion had become less formal and external, more penetrating and\nexigent. Prayer was no longer a formal litany for worldly blessings or\nsinful indulgence, but a colloquy with God, in a moment of spiritual\nexaltation.(2204) The true sacrifice was no longer \u201cthe blood of bulls,\u201d\nbut a quiet spirit. Along with a sense of frailty and bewilderment, men\nfelt the need of purification and spiritual support. The old mysteries and\nthe new cults from the East had fostered a longing for sacramental peace\nand assurance of another life, in which the crooked should be made\nstraight and the perverted be restored.\n\nIn Maximus of Tyre,(2205) although he has no claim to the reputation of a\nstrong and original thinker, we see this new religious spirit of the\nsecond century perhaps in its purest form. Man is an enigma, a\ncontradiction, a being placed on the confines of two worlds. A beast in\nhis fleshly nature, he is akin to God in his higher part, nay, the son of\nGod.(2206) Even the noblest spirits here below live in a sort of twilight,\nor in a heady excitement, an intoxication of the senses. Yet, cramped as\nit is in the prison of the flesh, the soul may raise itself above the\nmisty region of perpetual change towards the light of the Eternal. For, in\nthe slumber of this mortal life, the pure spirit is sometimes visited by\nvisions coming through the gate of horn,(2207) visions of another world\nseen in some former time. And, following them, the moral hero, like\nHeracles, the model of strenuous virtue, through toil and tribulation may\ngain the crown. On this stormy sea of time, philosophy gives us the veil\nof Leucothea to charm the troubled waters. It is true that only when\nrelease comes at death, does the soul attain to the full vision of God.\nFor the Highest is separated from us by a great gulf. Yet the analysis of\nthe soul which Maximus partly borrows from Aristotle, discovers His seat\nin us, the highest reason, that power of intuitive, all-embracing,\ninstantaneous vision, which is distinct from the slower and tentative\noperations of the understanding. It is by this higher faculty that God is\nseen, so far as He may be, in this mixed and imperfect state.(2208) For\nthe vision of God can only in any degree be won by abstraction from sense\nand passion and everything earthly, in a struggle ever upwards, beyond the\npaths of the heavenly orbs, to the region of eternal calm \u201cwhere falls not\nrain or hail or any snow, but a white cloudless radiance spreads over\nall.\u201d(2209) And when may we see God? \u201cThou shalt see Him fully,\u201d Maximus\nsays, \u201conly when He calls thee, in age or death, but meantime glimpses of\nthe Beauty which eye hath not seen nor can tongue speak of, may be won, if\nthe veils and wrappings which hide His splendour be torn away.(2210) But\ndo not thou profane Him by offering vain prayers for earthly things which\nbelong to the world of chance or which may be obtained by human effort,\nthings for which the worthy need not pray, and which the unworthy will not\nobtain. The only prayer which is answered, is the prayer for goodness,\npeace, and hope in death.\u201d(2211)\n\nHow could a Platonist of the second century, we may ask, holding such a\nspiritual creed, reconcile himself to Greek mythology, nay, to all the\nmythologies, with all the selfish grossness of their ritual? Plutarch and\nMaximus of Tyre answer the question by a piously ingenious interpretation\nof ancient legend, and partly by a system of daemons, of mediating and\nministering spirits, who fill the interval between the changeless Infinite\nand the region of sin and change.\n\nIn religion, they say, in effect, we must take human nature as we find it.\nWe are not legislating for a young race, just springing from the earth,\nbut for races with conceptions of the Divine which run back through\ncountless ages. There may be, here and there, an elect few who can raise\ntheir minds, in rare moments, to the pure vision of the Eternal. But\nheaven is so far from earth, and earth is so darkened by the mists of\nsense, that temple and image and sacred litany, and the myths created by\nthe genius of poets, or imposed by lawgivers, are needed to sustain and\ngive expression to the vague impotent yearnings of the mass of men.(2212)\nThe higher intuitions of religion must be translated into material\nsymbolism; \u201chere we see, as through a glass darkly.\u201d And the symbols of\nsacred truth are as various as the many tribes of men. Some, like the\nEgyptian worship of animals, are of a degraded type. The Greek\nanthropomorphism, although falling far short of the grandeur and purity of\nthe Infinite, yet furnishes its noblest image, because it has glorified by\nartistic genius the human body, which has been chosen as the earthly home\nof the rational soul.(2213) And the cause of myth and plastic art are\nreally one; nay, there is no opposition or contrast, in fact, between\npoetic mythology and religious philosophy. They are different methods of\nteaching religious truth, adapted to different stages of intellectual\ndevelopment. Myth is the poetic philosophy of a simple age, for whose ears\nthe mystic truth must be sweetened by music, an age whose eyes cannot bear\nto gaze on the Divine splendour unveiled.(2214) Philosophic theology is\nfor an age of rationalism and inquiry; it would have been unintelligible\nto the simple imaginative childhood of the race. Maximus has the same\nfaith as Plutarch that the mythopoeic age possessed, along with an\nenthralling artistic skill, all the speculative depth and subtlety of\nlater ages. It is almost a profanity to imagine that Homer or Hesiod or\nPindar were less of philosophers than Aristotle or Chrysippus.(2215) It\nwas assumed that the early myth-makers and lawgivers possessed a sacred\nlore of immense value and undoubted truth, which they dimly shadowed forth\nin symbolism of fanciful tale or allegory.(2216) The myth at once hides\nand reveals the mystery of the Divine. If a man comes to its\ninterpretation with the proper discipline and acumen, the kernel of\nspiritual or physical meaning which is reverently veiled from the profane\neye will disclose itself. And thus the later philosophic theologian is not\nreading his own higher thoughts of God into the grotesque fancies of a\nremote antiquity; he is evolving and interpreting a wisdom more original\nthan his own. In this process of rediscovering a lost tradition, he pushes\naside the mass of erroneous interpretations which have perverted the\noriginal doctrine, by literal acceptance of what is really figurative, by\nabuse of names and neglect of realities, by stopping at the symbol instead\nof rising to the divine fact.(2217)\n\nThe treatise of Plutarch on Isis and Osiris is the best illustration of\nthis attitude to myth. Plutarch\u2019s theology, though primarily Hellenic,\ndoes not confine its gaze to the Greek Olympus; it is intended to be the\nscience of human religion in general. It gives formal expression to the\ngrowing tendency to syncretism. The central truth of it is, that as the\nsun and moon, under many different names, shed their light on all, so the\ngods are variously invoked and honoured by various tribes of men.(2218)\nBut there is one supreme Ruler and Providence common to all. And the lower\ndeities of different countries may often be identified by the theologian,\nunder all varieties of title and attribute. So, to Plutarch as to\nHerodotus, the immemorial worships of Egypt were the prototypes or the\ncounterparts of the cults of Greece.(2219) There was a temple of Osiris at\nDelphi, and Clea, to whom Plutarch\u2019s treatise is addressed, was not only a\nhereditary priestess of the Egyptian god, but held a leading place among\nthe female ministers of Dionysus.(2220) It was fitting that a person so\ncatholic in her sympathies should have dedicated to her the treatise in\nwhich Plutarch expounds his all-embracing theology.\n\nIn this treatise we see the new theology wrestling in a hopeless struggle\nto unite the thought of Pythagoras and Plato with the grossness of\nEgyptian myth. It is a striking, but not a solitary, example of the\nmisapplication of dialectic skill and learning, to find the thoughts of\nthe present in the fancies of the past, and from a mistaken piety, to\nignore the onward march of humanity. Arbitrary interpretations of myth,\nalike unhistorical and unscientific, make us wonder how they could ever\nhave occurred to men of intellect and learning. Yet the explanation is not\nfar to seek. More elevated conceptions of God, the purged and clarified\nreligious intuition, do not readily find a substitute for the old\nsymbolism to express their visions. Religion, beyond any other\ninstitution, depends for its power on antiquity, on the charm of ancestral\npieties. A religious symbol is doubly sacred when it has ministered to the\ndevotion of many generations.\n\nIn interpreting the powerful cult of Isis, which was spreading rapidly\nover the western world, Plutarch had two objects in view. By reverent\nexplanation of its legends and ritual, he desired to counteract its\nimmoral and superstitious tendencies;(2221) he also wished, in discussing\na worship so multiform as that of Isis, to develop his attitude to myth in\ngeneral. We cannot follow him minutely in his survey of the various\nattempts of philosophy to find the basis of truth in Egyptian legend. Some\nof these explanations, such as the Euhemerist, he would dismiss at once as\natheistic.(2222) On others, which founded themselves on physical allegory,\nhe would not be so dogmatic, although he might reject as impious any\ntendency to identify the gods with natural powers and products.(2223) As a\npositive contribution to religious philosophy, the treatise is chiefly\nvaluable for its theory of Evil and of daemonic powers, and above all for\nthe doctrine of the unity of God, the central truth of all religions.\n\nThe daemonology of the Platonists of the second century had its roots deep\nin the Hellenic past, as it was destined to have a long future. But it was\nspecially evoked by the needs of the pagan revival of the Antonine age.\nThe doctrine had assumed many forms in previous Greek thought from the\ndays of Hesiod, and it has various aspects, and serves various purposes,\nin the hands of Plutarch, Apuleius, and Maximus of Tyre. It was in the\nfirst place an apologetic for heathenism in an age distracted between a\nlofty conception of one infinite Father and legends of many lands and many\nages, which were consecrated by long tradition, yet often shocking to the\nspiritual sense. As the conception of God became purer and seemed to\nwithdraw into remoter distances, souls like Apuleius, wedded to the\nancient rites, found in the daemons, ranging between earth and ether, the\nmeans of conveying answers to prayer, of inspiring dreams and prophecy, of\nordering all the machinery of divination.(2224) To others, such as Maximus\nof Tyre, the doctrine seemed to discover a spiritual support for human\nfrailty, guardians in temptation and the crises of life, mediators between\nthe human spirit, immured for a time in the prison of the flesh, and the\nremote purity of the Supreme.(2225) To other minds the daemon is no\nexternal power, but dwelling within each soul, as its divine part, a kind\nof ideal personality,(2226) in following whose ghostly promptings lies the\nsecret of happiness. Finally, the doctrine created an eschatology by which\nvistas of moral perfection were opened before purer spirits in worlds to\ncome, and the infinite responsibilities of this life were terribly\nenforced by threats of endless degradation.(2227)\n\nThe daemons who came to the aid of mythology in the Antonine age, were\ncomposite beings, with a double nature corresponding to the two worlds of\nthe Divine and human which they linked together. They are at once divine\nin power and knowledge, and akin to humanity in feeling and passion.(2228)\nThey are even liable to mortality, as was proved by the famous tale of the\nvoice which floated to the Egyptian pilot from the Echinad isles,\nannouncing that the great Pan was dead.(2229) Their sphere is the middle\nspace between the lofty ether and the mists of earth. This spiritual\nmediation, as Maximus points out, is not an exceptional principle. There\nis a chain of being in the universe, as it had been developed in the\ncosmic theory of Aristotle, by which the remote extremes are linked in\nsuccessive stages, and may be blended or reconciled, in a mean or\ncompound, as in a musical harmony. The principle is seen operating in the\nrelation of the great physical elements. Thus, for example, fire and water\nare at opposite poles: they cannot pass immediately into one another, but\nair furnishes a medium between the two, and reconciles their opposition by\nparticipating in the warmth of the one element and in the moisture of the\nother.(2230) The suggestions of cosmic theory seemed to receive support\nfrom many tales which, in that age of luxuriant superstition, were\naccepted even in educated circles. Travellers, returning from Britain,\ntold weird stories of desolate islands in the northern seas which were the\nhaunts of genii.(2231) A Spartan visitor to Delphi related how, on the\nshores of the Indian Ocean, he had met with a hermit of a beautiful\ncountenance and proof against all disease, who spoke with many tongues,\nand derived his mystic powers from intercourse with the spirits which\nhaunted those distant solitudes.(2232)\n\nPlutarch also justifies his theory of daemons by an appeal to the\nauthority of Hesiod, of Pythagoras and Plato, Xenocrates and\nChrysippus.(2233) He might have added others to the list. For, indeed, the\nconception of these mediators between the ethereal world and the world of\nsense has a long history\u2014too long to be developed within our present\nlimits. Its earliest appearance in Greece was in the _Works and Days_ of\nHesiod, who first definitely sketched a great scale of being\u2014gods, heroes,\ndaemons, and mortal men. Hesiod\u2019s daemons are the men of the golden age,\ntranslated to a blissful and immortal life, yet linked in sympathy with\nthose still on earth\u2014\u201cMinisters of good and guardians of men.\u201d(2234) The\nconception was introduced at a time when new moral and spiritual forces\nwere at work, which were destined to have a profound and lasting influence\non paganism for a thousand years. The glamour of the radiant Olympus and\nthe glory of heroic battle were fading. Men were settling down to humdrum\ntoil, and becoming acutely conscious of the troubles and sadness of life.\nWith a craving for support and comfort which the religion of Homer could\nnot give, the pessimist view of life, which colours Hesiod\u2019s poetry,\nsought consolation in a mysticism altogether strange to Homer, and even to\nHesiod. The feeling that humanity had declined from a glorious prime and,\nin its weakness and terror at death, needed some new consolations, was met\nby a system which, although Orpheus may never have existed, will always be\ncalled by his name.(2235) The Chthonian deities, Dionysus and Demeter,\nsprang into a prominence which they had not in Homer. The immortal life\nbegan to overshadow the present, and in the mysteries men found some\nassurance of immortality, and preparation for it by cleansing from the\nstains of time. That idea, which was to have such profound influence upon\nlater thought, that there is a divine element in man, which is emancipated\nfrom the prison of the flesh at death, became an accepted doctrine. At the\nsame time, the faith in helpers and mediators, half human, half divine,\nlent itself to the support of human weakness. The heroic soul who passed\nvictoriously through the ordeal of this life, might in another world\nbecome the guardian and exemplar of those who were still on earth.\n\nIn the Ionian and Eleatic schools the doctrine was held in some sense by\nall the great thinkers, by Thales, Anaximander, Heraclitus, Xenophanes. To\nThales the world was full of daemons.(2236) In the mystic teaching of\nHeraclitus the universe teems with such spirits, for in the perpetual flux\nand change, the divine is constantly passing into the death of mortal life\nand the mortal into the divine.(2237) Empedocles, in conformity with his\ncosmic dualism, first made the distinction between good and bad daemons,\nand followed Pythagoras in connecting daemonic theory with the doctrine of\na fall from divine estate, and long exile and incarnation in animal\nforms.(2238) It was in the dim system of Pythagoras that the doctrine\nbecame a really religious tenet, as it was to the Platonists of the\nAntonine age. Pythagoras was more priest and mystic than philosopher. He\nhad far more in common with the Orphici, with Abaris and Epimenides, than\nwith Thales or Anaximander. His school, for we can hardly speak of\nhimself, connected the doctrine of daemons with the doctrines of\nmetempsychosis and purification and atonement in another world. Souls\nreleased from the prison-house of the flesh are submitted to a purgatorial\ncleansing of a thousand years. Some pass the ordeal victoriously, and\nascend to higher spheres. Others are kept in chains by the Erinnyes. The\nbeatified souls become daemons or good spirits, ranging over the universe,\nand manifesting themselves in dreams and omens and ghostly monitions,\nsometimes becoming even visible to the eye.(2239) But their highest\nfunction is to guide men in the path of virtue during life, and after\ndeath to purify the disembodied spirit, which may become a daemon in its\nturn. This is the theory, which, with some modifications, was adopted by\nthe later Platonists. It was popularised by Pindar, \u201cthe Homer of the\nPythagorean school.\u201d He was captivated by its doctrine of the migrations\nof the soul, of its ordeal in a future life, and its chastisement or\nelevation to lofty spiritual rank as daemon or hero. In the second\nOlympian ode, the punishment of the wicked and the beatitude of noble\nspirits, in the company of Peleus and Achilles in the happy isles, are\npainted in all the glowing imagery of the Apocalypse.(2240)\n\nThe daemonology of Pythagoras, along with the doctrine of metempsychosis\nin its moral aspect, was adopted by Plato, whether as a serious theory or\nas a philosophic myth. The chief passages in Plato where the daemons are\nmentioned are suffused with such mythic colour that it would perhaps be\nrash to extract from them any sharp dogmatic theory.(2241) But Plato,\nholding firmly the remote purity of God, strove to fill the interval\nbetween the mortal and the Infinite by a graded scheme of superhuman\nbeings. The daemon is a compound of the mortal and the divine, spanning\nthe chasm between them. This is the power which conveys to God the prayers\nand sacrifices of men, and brings to men the commands and rewards of the\ngods, which operates in prophecy, sacrifice, and mystery. And again the\ndaemon is a power which is assigned to each soul at birth, and which at\ndeath conducts it to the eternal world, to receive judgment for its deeds,\nand perhaps to be condemned to return once more to earth. The reason in\nman, his truly divine part, is also called his daemon, his good genius. It\nis the power whose kindred is with the world of the unseen, which is\nimmortal, and capable of a lofty destiny.\n\nLike his master Plato, Maximus of Tyre seems to know nothing of the evil\ndaemons, who, as we shall presently see, were used by Plutarch to account\nfor the immorality of myth. To Maximus the daemons are rather angelic\nministers, sent forth to advise and succour weak mortal men.(2242) They\nare the necessary mediators between the one Supreme and our frail mortal\nlife. Dwelling in a region between earth and ether, they are of mingled\nmortal and divine nature, weaker than the gods, stronger than men,\nservants of God and overseers of men, by kinship with either linking the\nweakness of the mortal with the Divine. Great is the multitude of this\nheavenly host, interpreters between God and man: \u201cthrice ten thousand are\nthey upon the fruitful earth, immortal, ministers of Zeus,\u201d healers of the\nsick, revealers of what is dark, aiding the craftsman, companions of the\nwayfarer. On land and sea, in the city and the field, they are ever with\nus. They inspired a Socrates, a Pythagoras, a Diogenes, or a Zeno; they\nare present in all human spirits. Only the lost and hopeless soul is\nwithout the guardianship of such an unearthly friend.\n\nThe earlier Platonist or Pythagorean daemonology was not employed to\nexplain or rehabilitate polytheism. Although Plato would not banish myth\nfrom his Utopia, he placed his ban on the mythopoeic poets who had lent\ntheir authority to tales and crimes and passions of the gods. Myth could\nonly be tolerated in the education of the young if it conformed to the\nstandard of Divine perfection.(2243) God cannot be the author of evil,\nevil is the offspring of matter; it is a limitation or an incident of the\nfleeting world of sense. It is only relative and transitory, and can never\npenetrate the realm of the ideal. But to Plutarch evil was an ultimate\nprinciple in the universe, ever present along with the good, although not\nperhaps of equal range and power.(2244) And Plutarch would not banish and\ndisown the poets for attributing to the gods passions and crimes which\nwould have been dishonouring to humanity. He would not abandon the ancient\nritual because it contained elements of gloom and impurity which shocked a\nrefined moral sense. Mythology and ritual, as they had been moulded by\npoets or imposed by lawgivers, were intertwined with the whole life of the\npeople and formed an essential element in the glory of Hellenic genius.\nThe piety and aesthetic feeling of the priest of Delphi still clung to\nancient ritual and legend, even when the lofty morality of the Platonist\nwas offended by the grossness which mingled with their artistic charm.\nMight it not be possible to moralise the pagan system without discrediting\nits authors, to reconcile the claims of reason and conservative religious\nfeeling? Might it not be possible to save at once the purity and majesty\nof God and the inspiration of the poets?\n\nTo Plutarch the doctrine of daemons seemed to furnish an answer to this\nquestion; it also satisfied other spiritual cravings which were equally\nurgent. The need of some mixed nature to mediate between the ethereal\nworld and the region of sense became all the more imperious as the\nphilosophic conception of God receded into a more remote and majestic\npurity. The gradation of spiritual powers, which had been accepted by so\nmany great minds from the time of Hesiod, at once guarded the aloofness of\nthe Supreme and satisfied the craving of the religious instinct for some\nmeans of contact with it, for divine help in the trials of time. These\nmediating spirits were also made in Plutarch\u2019s theology to furnish an\nexplanation of oracles and all forms of prophecy, of the inspired\nenthusiasm of artist, sage, and poet. Finally, the theory, with the aid of\nmythic fancy, cast a light on the fate of souls beyond the grave, and\nvindicated the Divine justice by a vision of a judgment to come.\n\nPlutarch\u2019s daemonology, as he admits himself, is an inheritance from the\npast. The daemons are beings half divine, half human; they are godlike in\npower and intelligence, they are human in liability to the passions\nengendered by the flesh. This host of spirits dwell in the borderland\nbelow the moon, between the pure changeless region of the celestial powers\nand the region of the mutable and the mortal. Linking the two worlds\ntogether by their composite nature, the daemons differ in degrees of\nvirtue; some are more akin to the Divine perfection, others more tainted\nby the evil of the lower world.(2245) The good spirits, as they are\ndescribed by Maximus of Tyre, are true servants of God and faithful\nguardians of human virtue. But the bad daemons assume a special prominence\nin the theology of Plutarch. Nor was the development unnatural. His\nconception of immortality, and the necessity of purification in another\nworld, raised the question as to the destiny of souls whose stains were\nindelible. If purified souls are charged as daemons with offices of mercy,\nmay not the impure prolong their guilt in plaguing and corrupting mankind?\nMay not the existence of such sombre spirits account for the evil in the\nworld, the existence of which cannot be blinked? Although there are traces\nof this moral dualism long before Plutarch\u2019s time, both in Greek poetry\nand speculation, it was Xenocrates who first formulated the doctrine of\nevil daemons in relation to mythology.(2246) \u201cIt cannot be,\u201d he taught,\n\u201cthat unlucky days and festivals, conducted with scourgings and fasts,\nlamentations and lacerations and impure words and deeds, are celebrated in\nhonour of the blessed gods or good daemons. They are rather offered to\nthose powerful and terrible spirits of evil in the air whose sombre\ncharacter is propitiated by such gloomy rites.\u201d These sinister spirits\nassert their vast power, and display their malevolence, not only in\nplague, pestilence, and dearth, and all the desolating convulsions of the\nphysical world, but in the moral perversion and deception of the human\nrace. They are accountable for all that shocks the moral sense in the\nimpure or ghastly tales which the poets have told of the gods, and in the\ngloomy or obscene rites which are celebrated in their honour. The poets\nand early myth-makers have not invented the evil in myth and rite; they\nhave been deceived as to the authors of the evil. Each of the blessed gods\nhas attached to him a daemon who is in some respects his counterpart,\nwielding his power, but who may perpetrate every kind of moral enormity in\nhis name, and who demands to be honoured and propitiated after his own\nevil nature. The bad daemons, in fact, masquerade as gods and bring\ndisgrace upon them. It was not the Blessed Ones who mutilated a father,\nwho raised rebellion in Olympus and were driven into exile, who stooped to\nbe the lovers of mortal women. These are the works of spirits of evil,\nusing their fiendish cunning to deceive a simple age. Its poetry was\nseduced to cast a magical charm over their lusts and crimes; its\nsuperstition was terrified into appeasing the fiends by shameful orgies or\ndark bloody rites. Poets and founders of ritual have been faithful to\nsupernatural fact, but they did not see that in the supernatural order\nthere are evil powers as well as good. They are sound in their record but\nwrong in their interpretation. In this fashion Plutarch and his school\nstrove to reconcile a rational faith with the grossness of superstition,\nto save the holiness of God and the glory of Homer.\n\nBut the bad daemons who were called in to save the ancient cults proved\ndangerous allies in the end. Few who really know him will be inclined to\nquestion the sincere monotheistic piety of Plutarch. And a sympathetic\ncritic will even not withhold from him a certain respect for his old-world\nattachment to the forms of his ancestral worship. He knew no other avenue\nof approaching the Divine. Yet only the imperious religious cravings and\nthe spiritual contradictions of that age could excuse or account for a\nsystem which was disastrous both to paganism and philosophy. The union of\ngross superstition with ingenious theology, the licence of subtlety\napplied to the ancient legends, demanded too much credulity from the\ncultivated and too much subtlety from the vulgar. It undermined the\nalready crumbling polytheism; it made philosophy the apostle of a belief\nin a baleful daemonic agency. If a malign genius was seated beside every\ngod to account for the evil in nature or myth, might not a day come when\nboth friends and enemies would confound the daemon and the god?(2247)\nMight not philosophy be led on in a disastrous decline to the\njustification of magic, incantations, and all theurgic extravagance? That\nday did come in the fourth century when Platonism and polytheism in close\nleague were making a last stand against the victorious Church. Even then\nindeed a purer Platonism still survived, as well as a purer paganism\nsustained by the mysteries of Mithra or Demeter. But the paganism which\nthe Christian empire found it hardest to conquer, and which propagated\nitself far into the Christian ages, was the belief in magic and occult\npowers founded on the doctrine of daemons. And the Christian\ncontroversialist, with as firm a faith in daemons as the pagan, turned\nthat doctrine against the faith which it was invented to support. The\ndistinction of good and bad daemons, first drawn by Xenocrates and\nChrysippus, and developed by Plutarch, was eagerly seized upon by Tatian\nand S. Clement of Alexandria, by Minucius Felix and S. Cyprian.(2248) But\nthe good became the heavenly host of Christ and His angels; the bad were\nidentified with the pagan gods. What would have been the anguish of\nPlutarch could he have foreseen that his theology, elaborated with such\npious subtlety and care, would one day be used against the gracious powers\nof Olympus, and that the spirits he had conjured up to defend them would\nbe exorcised as maleficent fiends by the triumphant dialectic of S.\nAugustine.(2249)\n\nThe daemonology of Plutarch also furnished a theory of prophetic powers,\nand especially of the inspiration of Delphi. It was in the porticoes of\nthe shrine of Apollo, or among the monuments of ancient glory and\ndevotion, that the most interesting of Plutarch\u2019s religious essays were\ninspired. He probably bore the honours of the Delphic priesthood down to\nthe last days of his long life. But in the years when Plutarch was\nordering a sacrifice or a procession, or discussing antiquarian and\nphilosophic questions with travellers from Britain or the eastern seas,\nDelphi had lost much of its ancient power and renown. Great political and\ngreat economic changes had reduced the functions of the oracle to a\ncomparatively humble sphere. It was no longer consulted on affairs of\nstate by great potentates of the East and West. The farmers of Boeotia or\nthe Arcadian shepherds now came to seek the causes of failure in their\ncrops or of a murrain among their herds, to ask advice about the purchase\nof a piece of land or the marriage of a child. So far back as the days of\nCicero the faith in oracles had been greatly shaken,(2250) and even the\nmost venerable shrines were no longer resorted to as of old. Powerful\nphilosophic schools, the Cynic and the Epicurean, poured contempt on all\nthe arts of divination. Many of the ancient oracles had long been silent.\nIn Boeotia, where, in the days of Herodotus, the air was full of\ninspiration,(2251) the ancient magic only lingered around Lebadea. Sheep\ngrazed around the fanes of Tegyra and the Ptoan Apollo. While in old days\nat Delphi, the services of two, and even three, Pythian priestesses were\ndemanded by the concourse of votaries, in Plutarch\u2019s time one priestess\nsufficed.(2252) But the second century brought, along with a general\nreligious revival, a restoration of the ancient faith in oracles. The\nvoice of Delphi had been silenced for a time by Nero, and the sacred chasm\nhad been choked with corpses because the priestess had branded the emperor\nas another Orestes.(2253) But the oracle, although shorn of much of its\nglory, recovered some of its popularity in the second century. It received\nofferings once more from wealthy votaries. The emperor Hadrian\ncharacteristically tested its omniscience by a question as to the\nbirthplace of Homer. Curious travellers from distant lands, even\nphilosophers of the Cynic and Epicurean schools, came to visit the ancient\nshrine, to make the round of its antiquarian treasures, and to discuss the\nsecret of its inspiration.(2254) A new town sprang up at the gates of the\nsanctuary; sumptuous temples, baths, and halls of assembly replaced the\nsolitude and ruins of many generations. The god himself seemed to the\npious Plutarch to have returned in power to his ancient seat.(2255)\n\nThe revival of Delphi gladdened the heart of Plutarch as a sign of\nreviving religion and Hellenism. And although the oracle no longer wielded\nan oecumenical primacy, its antiquities and its claims to inspiration\nevidently attracted many curious inquirers. We are admitted to their\nconversations in the Delphic treatises of Plutarch. His characters bear\nthe names of the old-world schools, but there is a strangely modern tone\nin their discussions. Sometimes we might fancy ourselves listening to a\ndebate on the inspiration of Scripture between an agnostic, a Catholic,\nand an accommodating broad Churchman. Plutarch himself, or his\nrepresentative, generally holds the balance between the extreme views, and\ntries to reconcile the claims of reason and of faith. It is clear that\neven in that age of religious revival there was no lack of a scepticism\nlike that of Lucian. Even in the sacred courts of Delphi the Epicurean\nmight be heard suggesting that, because, among a thousand random\nprophecies of natural events, one here and there may seem to tally with\nthe fact, it does not follow that the prediction was sure and true at the\nmoment of deliverance;(2256) the wandering word may sometimes hit the\nmark. The fulfilment is a mere coincidence, a happy chance. Boethus, the\nsceptic, is easily refuted by the orthodox Serapion, who makes an appeal\nto well-known oracles which have been actually fulfilled, not merely in a\nloose, apparent fashion, but down to the minutest details of time, place,\nand manner.(2257) In these discussions, although the caviller is heard\nwith a tolerant courtesy, it is clear that faith is always in the\nascendant. Yet even faith has to face and account for an apparent\ndegeneracy which might well cause some uneasiness. For instance, is it not\nstartling that, in the name of the god of music, many oracles should be\ndelivered in trivial, badly-fashioned verses?(2258) Can it be that Apollo\nis a meaner artist than Hesiod or Homer? On the other side, it may be said\nthat the god is too lofty to care to deck his utterances in the graces of\nliterary form, or, by a more probable theory, he inspires the vision but\nnot the verse. But what of the oracles of later days, which are delivered\nin the baldest prose? Is this not a disturbing sign of degeneracy? Can\nthis be worthy of the god? The defender of the faith has no difficulty in\nquieting the suspicion. Even in the great ages we know that oracles were\nsometimes delivered in prose,(2259) and in ancient times excited feeling\nran naturally into verse.(2260) The stately hexameter was the appropriate\nform of utterance when the oracle had to deal with great events affecting\nthe fate of cities and of nations. Inspiration is not independent of\nsurrounding circumstances, and the functions of the oracle have changed\nsince the days of Croesus and Themistocles. The whole style of human life\nand the taste of men are less imposing and stately. The change in the\nstyle of the oracle is only part of a general movement.(2261) For ages\nsimple prose has taken the place of artistic rhythm in other departments\nbesides the sphere of prophecy. We do not despise the philosophy of\nSocrates and Plato, because it does not come to us clothed in verse, like\nthe speculations of Thales, Parmenides, and Empedocles. And who can expect\nthe simple peasant girl, who now occupies the tripod, to speak in the\ntones of Homer?(2262) The dim grandeur of the old poetic oracles had\nindeed some advantages, in aiding the memory by the use of measured and\nmusical expression, and in veiling the full meaning of the God from\nirreverent or hostile eyes. But their pompous ambiguity, providing\napparently so many loopholes for evasion, brought discredit on the sacred\nart, and encouraged the imitative ingenuity of a host of venal impostors\nwho, around the great temples, cheated the ears of slaves and silly women\nwith a mockery of the mysterious solemnity of the Pythian verse.(2263)\n\nThe more serious question as to the cause of the extinction of oracles\nbrings the discussion nearer to the great problem of the sources of\ninspiration. It is true that the fact may be accounted for to some extent\nby natural causes. Oracles have never ceased, but the number has been\ndiminished. God measures His help to men by their needs, and as they grow\nmore enlightened they feel less need for supernatural guidance. This,\nhowever, is evidently dangerous ground. But surely the poverty and\ndepopulation of Greece are enough to account for the disappearance of\noracles. A country which can hardly put three thousand hoplites in the\nfield\u2014as many as Megara alone sent forth to fight at Plataea\u2014cannot need\nthe many shrines which flourished when Greece was in its glory.(2264) But\nit may be admitted that oracles can and do disappear. And this is in no\nway derogatory to the power of God. For it is not the great God Himself\nwho utters the warning or the prophecy by the voice of the priestess. Such\na doctrine is lowering to His greatness and majesty. In prophecy and\ndivination, as in other fields, God operates, through instruments and\nagents, on a given matter, and in concurrence with physical causes. The\nmatter in this case is the human soul, which, in greater or less degrees,\ncan be acted on by supernatural influences.(2265) The exciting cause of\nthe \u201centhusiasm\u201d or inspiration, applying a sudden stimulus to the soul,\nmay be some vapour or exhalation from the earth, such as that which rose\nfrom the cleft beneath the Delphic tripod.(2266) Lastly, there is the\ndaemon, a supernatural being, who, by his composite nature, as we have\nseen, is the channel of sympathy between the human and the Divine.(2267)\nBut among the causes of afflatus or inspiration, some may, in cases,\ndisappear and cease to operate. The intoxicating fume or vapour is a force\nof varying intensity and may exhaust itself and be spent, as a spring may\nfail, or a mine may be worked out.(2268) The daemon may migrate from one\nplace to another, and with its disappearance, the oracle will become\nsilent, as that of Teiresias at Orchomenus has long been, just as the lyre\nbecomes silent when the musician ceases to strike the strings.(2269)\n\nIn all this theory Plutarch is careful to guard himself against a purely\nmaterialistic theory of the facts of inspiration.(2270) Physical causes\nmay assist and predispose, but physical causes alone will not account for\nthe facts of inspiration. The daemon is a necessary mediator between the\nhuman soul and God, a messenger of the divine purpose. But the real\nproblem of inspiration is in the soul of man himself, in the possibility\nof contact between the soul and a supernatural power. This question is\nilluminated in Apuleius and Plutarch and Maximus of Tyre by a discussion\nof the daemon of Socrates. It was by a natural instinct that the Antonine\nPlatonists went back to the great teacher of Plato for support of the\nsystem which was to link religion with philosophy by the daemonic theory.\nIn Plutarch\u2019s dialogue on the Genius of Socrates, the various theories of\nthat mysterious influence current in antiquity are discussed at length.\nThe language in which Socrates or his disciples spoke of its monitions\nlent itself to different interpretations. Was his daemon an external sign,\nas in augury, an audible voice, or an inner, perhaps supernatural light, a\nvoice of reason, speaking to the soul\u2019s highest faculty, through no\nuttered word or symbol?(2271) The grosser conceptions of it may be\ndismissed at once. The daemon of Socrates does not belong to the crude\nmaterialism of divination, although the philosopher could forecast the\ndisaster of Syracuse.(2272) Nor was it any ordinary faculty of keen\nintellectual shrewdness, strengthened and sharpened by the cultivation of\nexperience. Still less was it any hallucination, bordering on insanity,\nwhich is merely a perversion of the senses and reason. It was rather a\nspiritual intuition, an immediate vision, not darkened or weakened by\npassing through any symbolic medium of the senses, a flash of sudden\ninsight such as is vouchsafed only to the select order of pure and lofty\nspirits, in whom from the beginning the higher portion of the soul has\nalways risen high above the turbid and darkening influence of the\nsenses.(2273) That such a faculty exists is certain to the Platonist and\nthe Pythagorean. But in the mass of men it is struggling against fleshly\npowers, sometimes defeated, sometimes victorious, inspiring ideals, or\nstinging with remorse, until perchance, late and slowly, after\nchastisement and struggle, it emerges into a certain calm. Pythagoreans,\nsuch as Apollonius, taught that the diviner, the mantic, faculty in man\nwas more open to higher influences when emancipated from the body in\nsleep, and that it could be set free in waking hours by abstinence and\nascetic discipline.(2274) Plutarch laid stress on the latter part of this\ntheory, but ridiculed the notion that the soul could be most clear and\nreceptive when its powers were relaxed. But the capacity of the higher\nreason in the loftier souls is almost without limit. The reason, which is\nthe daemon in each, when unimpeded by bodily obstruction, is open to the\nlightest, most ethereal touch. Spirit can act directly by immediate\ninfluence upon spirit, without any sensuous aid of word or sign.(2275) The\ninfluence is a \u201cwind blowing where it listeth,\u201d or a strange sudden\nillumination, revealing truth as by a flash. The disembodied spirit,\ncleansed and freed from the servitude of the body, and now a real daemon,\npossesses all these powers and receptivities in the fullest measure. But\nit gains no new power when it quits the body, although its spiritual\nfaculties may have been dulled and obstructed by the flesh. The sun does\nnot lose its native radiance when for a moment it is obscured by\nclouds.(2276) And thus a Socrates may even here below have a spiritual\nvision denied to us; a Pythia may be inspired by the daemon of the shrine\nto read the future of a campaign. Nor is there anything more wonderful in\nprediction than in memory.(2277) In this unresting flux of existence, the\npresent of brief sensation is a mere moment between the past which has\nceased to be and the future which is to be born. If we can still grasp the\none, may we not anticipate the other?\n\nIt is thus that, by a far-reaching theory of inspiration, Plutarch strove\nto rehabilitate the faith in oracular lore. The loftier philosophic\nconception of the Supreme is saved from contamination with anything\nearthly by the doctrine of daemons themselves released from the body, yet,\nthrough the higher faculty in all souls, able to act directly upon those\nstill in the flesh. The influence is direct and immediate, yet not\nindependent of purely physical causes or temperament. \u201cThe treasure is in\nearthen vessels.\u201d But the full vision is only reserved for the spirit\nunpolluted and untroubled by sense and passion. Plutarch is preparing the\nway for the \u201cecstasy\u201d of later Neo-Platonism. All this speculation of\ncourse lent itself to a revival of heathen superstition. Yet it is\ninteresting to see how, in many a flash of insight, Plutarch reveals a\ntruth for all generations. We, in our time, are perhaps too much inclined\nto limit the powers of the human spirit to the field of sense and\nobservation. The slackening hold on faith in a spiritual world and a\nhigher intuition may well be visited by the proper Nemesis, in the\ndarkening of the divine vision, whether as religious faith or artistic\ninspiration. The dream of an earthly paradise enriched with every sensuous\ngratification by a science working in bondage to mere utility may have\nserious results for the spiritual future of humanity. It may need a bitter\nexperience to dispel the gross illusion; yet men may once more come to\nbelieve with Plutarch that, as it were, at the back of every soul there is\nan opening to the divine world from which yet may come, as of old, the\ntouch of an unseen hand.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                 BOOK IV.\n\n\n                   _ADSCENDENTIBUS DI MANUM PORRIGUNT_\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAPTER I\n\n\n                               SUPERSTITION\n\n\nSuperstition in all ages is a term of unstable meaning. Men even of the\nsame time will apply it or deny its application to the same belief. The\ndevout beliefs of one period may become mere superstitions to the next.\nAnd, conversely, what for a time may be regarded as alien superstition,\nmay in course of time become an accepted portion of the native creed. This\nwas the history of those Eastern cults which will be described in coming\nchapters. At first, they fell under Cicero\u2019s definition of superstition,\nviz. any religious belief or practice going beyond the prescription of\nancestral usage.(2278) But a day came when they were the most popular\nworships of the Roman world, when great nobles, and even the prince\nhimself, were enthusiastic votaries of them.(2279) The religion of Mithra,\nwhen it was confined to an obscure circle of slaves or freedmen at Ostia,\nwas a superstition to the pontifical college. It took its place with the\ncult of the Roman Trinity when Aurelian built his temple to the Sun and\nendowed his priesthood.(2280)\n\nPlutarch devoted a treatise to the subject of superstition. And his\nconception of it is more like our own, less formal and external, than that\nof Cicero. He develops his view of the degradation of the religious sense\nby contrasting it with atheism. Atheism is a great calamity, a blindness\nof the reason to the goodness and love which govern the universe. It is\nthe extinction of a faculty rather than the perversion of one.(2281) But\nsuperstition both believes and trembles. It acknowledges the existence of\nsupernatural powers, but they are to it powers of evil who are ready to\nafflict and injure, to be approached only in terror and with servile\nprostration. This craven fear of God fills the whole universe with\nspectres. It leaves no refuge whither the devil-worshipper can escape from\nthe horrors which haunt him night and day. Whither can he flee from that\nawful presence? Sleep, which should give a respite from the cares of life,\nto his fevered mind, swarms with ghostly terrors.(2282) And death, the\nlast sleep, which should put a term to the ills of life, only unrolls\nbefore the superstitious votary an awful scene of rivers of fire and\nblackness of darkness, and sounds of punishment and unutterable woe.(2283)\nTo such a soul the festivals of ancestral religion lose all their solemn\ngladness and cheering comfort. The shrines which should offer a refuge to\nthe troubled heart, even to the hunted criminal, become to him places of\ntorture. And the believer in a God of malignant cruelty betakes himself in\ndespair to dark rites from foreign lands, and spends his substance on\nimpostors who trade upon his fears. Better, says the pious Plutarch, not\nbelieve in God at all, than cringe before a God worse than the worst of\nmen. Unbelief, calamity though it be, at least does not dishonour a Deity\nwhose existence it denies. The true impiety is to believe that God can be\nwantonly faithless and revengeful, fickle and cruel.(2284)\n\nThe earnestness, and even bitterness, with which Plutarch assails the\ndegrading fear of the supernal Powers have caused some rather shallow\ncritics to imagine that he had a sympathy with scepticism.(2285) How such\nan idea could arise in the mind of any one who had read his treatise on\nthe Genius of Socrates or on Isis and Osiris, or on the Delays of Divine\nJustice, it is difficult to imagine. Plutarch\u2019s hatred of superstition is\nthat of a genuinely pious man, with a lofty conception of the Divine love\nand pity, who is revolted by the travesty of pure religion, which is\nrepeated from age to age. It is the feeling of a man to whom religion is\none of the most elevating joys of life, when he sees it turned into an\ninstrument of torture. But the force of the protest shows how rampant was\nthe evil in that age. Lucretius felt with the intensity of genius all the\nmisery which perverted conceptions of the Divine nature had inflicted on\nhuman life.(2286) But the force of Roman superstition had endlessly\nmultiplied since the days of Lucretius. It was no longer the exaggeration\nof Roman awe at the lightning, the flight of birds, the entrails of a\nsacrificial victim, or anxious observance of the solemn words of ancestral\nformulae, every syllable of which had to be guarded from mutilation or\nomission. All the lands which had fallen to her sword were, in Plutarch\u2019s\nday, adding to the spiritual burden of Rome. If in some cases they\nenriched her rather slender spiritual heritage, they also multiplied the\nsources of supernatural terror. If in the mysteries of Isis and Mithra\nthey exalted the soul in spiritual reverie and gave a promise of a coming\nlife,(2287) they sent the Roman matron to bathe in the freezing Tiber at\nearly dawn and crawl on bleeding knees over the Campus Martius, or\npurchase the interpretation of a dream from some diviner of Palestine or a\nhoroscope from some trader in astral lore.(2288) The Platonist, nourished\non the pure theism of the _Phaedo_ and the _Republic_, and the priest of\nthat cheerful shrine, which the young Ion had each bright morning swept\nwith myrtle boughs and sprinkled with the water of the Castalian\nspring,(2289) whose holy ministry gladdened even the years of boyhood\u2014a\nman with such experience had a natural horror of the dark terrors which\nthreatened to obscure the radiant visions of Delphi and Olympus.\n\nLivy complained of the neglect in his day of signs and omens which\nformerly were deemed worthy of historical record.(2290) The contempt for\naugury in the time of Cicero was hardly concealed among the\ncultivated.(2291) The details of parts of the ancient bird-lore eluded the\nresearches of the elder Pliny. The emperor Claudius, lamenting the neglect\nof the ancient science, demanded a decree of the Senate to restore it to\nits former efficiency.(2292) These are some signs of that general decay of\nold Roman religion in the last century of the Republic, which was partly\ndue to philosophic enlightenment partly to the confusion and\ndemoralisation of civil strife, but perhaps even more to the dangerous\nseductions of foreign superstitions.(2293) Among the counsels of Maecenas\nto Augustus none is more earnest and weighty than the warning against\nthese occult arts.(2294) Augustus is advised to observe, and enforce the\nobservance of the time-honoured ancestral forms, but he must banish\nsorcerers and diviners, who may sow the seeds of conspiracy against the\nprince. The advice was acted on. While the emperor rebuilt the fallen\ntemples and revived the ancient Latin rites, 2000 books of unlicensed\ndivination were in one day given to the flames.(2295) The old religion,\nwhich had absorbed so much from the augural lore of Etruria,(2296) was\nitself certainly not free from superstition. The wrath of the\nLemures,(2297) the darkness of the inner forest, the flash of lightning,\nthe flight of birds, the entrails of a sacrifice, excited many a fear, and\nmight cause a man to suspend a journey, or break up an assembly of the\npeople. But the Romans had, in the early ages, after their orderly legal\nfashion, reduced the force of these terrors by an elaborate art which\nprovided a convenient resource of statecraft, and a means of soothing the\nalarms of the crowd.\n\nBut foreign and unregulated superstitions, from the second century B.C.,\nwere pouring in from the East to put a fresh load on the human spirit or\nto replace the waning faith in Italian augury. In 139 B.C. Cornelius\nScipio Hispalus vainly strove by an edict to stop the inroads of the star\nreaders.(2298) But treatises on this pretended science were in vogue in\nVarro\u2019s time, and are quoted by the great savant with approval.(2299)\nThese impostors were swarming in Rome at the time of Catiline\u2019s\nconspiracy,(2300) inflating the hopes of the plotters. Suetonius has\nsurpassed himself in the collection, from many sources, of the signs and\nwonders which foreshadowed the great destiny, and also the death of\nAugustus. And it is noteworthy that, among these predictions, are some\nfounded on astrology.(2301) On the day of the emperor\u2019s birth, P.\nNigidius, a learned astrologer, found that the position of the stars\nforetold a coming master of the world. Augustus himself received a similar\nforecast from Theagenes, a star-reader of Apollonia. He had his horoscope\ndrawn out, and a silver coin was struck with the stamp of Capricorn.\n\nThis fatalist superstition infected nearly all the successors of Augustus\nin the first and second centuries. Astrology is essentially a fatalist\ncreed, and the heir to the great prize of the principate, with the\nabsolute control of the civilised world, was generally designated by that\nblind impersonal power whose decrees might be read in the positions of the\neternal spheres, or by signs and omens upon earth. Suetonius, Tacitus,\nDion Cassius, have chronicled, with apparent faith, the predictions of\nfuture power which gathered round the popular candidate for the\nsuccession, or the dark warnings of coming disaster which excited the\nprince\u2019s fears and gave courage to enemies and rivals. It is not hard to\nsee why the emperors at once believed in these black arts and profoundly\ndistrusted their professors. They wished to keep a monopoly of that awful\nlore, lest it might excite dangerous hopes in possible pretenders.(2302)\nTo consult a Chaldaean seer on the fate of the prince, or to possess his\nhoroscope, was always suspicious, and might often be fatal.(2303) The\nastonishing thing is, that men had such implicit faith in the skill of\nthese Eastern impostors, along with such distrust of their honesty. They\nwere banished again and again in the first century, but persecution only\nincreased their power, and they always returned to exercise greater\ninfluence than ever.(2304) Never was there a clearer proof of the\nimpotence of government in the face of a deep-seated popular belief.\n\nTiberius, who had probably no real religious faith, was, from his youth,\nthe slave of astrology.(2305) An adept had, at his birth, predicted his\nlofty destiny.(2306) He had in his train one Thrasyllus, a noted professor\nof the science, who had often to read the stars in the face of death, and\nhe was surrounded in his gloomy retirement at Capreae by a \u201cChaldaean\nherd.\u201d(2307) Claudius was pedantic and antiquarian in his religious\ntastes, and, while he tried to revive old Roman augury, he banished the\nastrologers.(2308) A great noble who had the temerity to consult them as\nto the time of the emperor\u2019s death shared the same fate. Nero, who\ndespised all regular religion, except that of the Syrian goddess, was the\nprey of superstitious terror. The Furies of the murdered Agrippina, as in\nAeschylean tragedy, haunted him in dreams, and he used the aid of magic to\nevoke and propitiate the awful shade.(2309) When, towards the end of his\nreign, his prospects grew more threatening, the appearance of a comet\ndrove him to consult Balbillus, his astrologer, who advised that the\nportended danger should be diverted from the emperor by the destruction of\nthe great nobles. Some of the craft had predicted that Nero should one day\nbe deserted and betrayed, while others consoled him with the promise of a\ngreat monarchy of the East with its seat at Jerusalem.(2310) The terrible\nyear which followed Nero\u2019s death was crowded with portents, and all the\nrivals for the succession were equally slaves of the adepts, who exploited\ntheir ambitions or their fears. The end of Galba was foreshadowed, from\nthe opening of his reign, by ominous dreams and signs.(2311) The hopes of\nOtho had long been inflamed by the diviner Seleucus,(2312) and by\nPtolemaeus, who was his companion during his command in Spain.(2313) When\nhe had won the dangerous prize, Otho was tortured by nightly visions of\nthe spirit of Galba, which he used every art to lay. Yet this same man set\nout for the conflict on the Po in defiant disregard of omens warranted by\nthe ancient religion.(2314) His end, which, by a certain calm nobility,\nseemed to redeem his life, was portended by a sign which Tacitus records\nas a fact. At the very hour when Otho was falling on his dagger, a bird of\nstrange form settled in a much frequented grove, and sat there undisturbed\nby the passers-by, or by the flocks of other fowls around.(2315) The\nhoroscope of Otho\u2019s rival Vitellius had been cast by the astrologers, and\ntheir reading of his fate gave his parents acute anxiety. He used to\nfollow the monitions of a German sorceress. Yet, like so many of his class\nin that age, he had but scant respect for accredited beliefs. It was noted\nwith alarm that he entered on his pontificate on the black day of the\nAllia.(2316) The astrologers he probably found more dangerous than\nhelpful, and he ordered them to be expelled from Italy.(2317) But it is a\ncurious sign of their conscious power and their audacity, that a mocking\ncounter edict to that of Vitellius was immediately published by unknown\nhands, ordaining the death of the persecutor within a certain day.(2318)\n\nThe emperors of the Flavian dynasty, although their power was stable and\nthe world was settling down, were not less devoted to Eastern\nsuperstitions than any of their predecessors. Vespasian indeed once more\nexiled the astrologers, but he still kept the best of them in his\ntrain.(2319) He had consulted the oracle on Mount Carmel, and obeyed the\nvision vouchsafed in the temple of Serapis.(2320) His son Titus, who may\nhave had romantic dreams of an Eastern monarchy, consulted foreign\noracles, worshipped in Egyptian temples, and was a firm believer in the\nscience of the stars.(2321) Domitian was perhaps the most superstitious of\nall his race. The rebuilder of Roman temples and the restorer of Roman\northodoxy had also a firm faith in planetary lore. He lived in perpetual\nfear of his sudden end, the precise hour and manner of which the\nChaldaeans had foretold in his early youth.(2322) Among the many reasons\nfor his savage proscription of the leading nobles, one of the most deadly\nwas the possession of an imperial horoscope. On his side too, the haunted\ntyrant diligently studied the birth-hour of suspected or possible\npretenders to the throne. In the last months of his reign his terror\nbecame more and more and more intense; never in the same space of time had\nthe lightning been so busy. The Capitol, the temple of the Flavians, the\npalace, even Domitian\u2019s own sleeping chamber, were all struck from heaven.\nIn a dream, the haunted emperor beheld Minerva, the goddess whom he\nspecially adored, quitting her chapel, with a warning that she could no\nlonger save him from his doom. On the day before his death, the emperor\npredicted that, on the next, the moon would appear blood red in the sign\nof Aquarius. On his last morning, a seer, who had been summoned from\nGermany to interpret the menacing omens and who had foretold a coming\nchange, was condemned to death.(2323)\n\nHadrian, that lover of the exotic and the curious, was particularly\nfascinated by the East. He had probably no settled faith of any kind, but\nhe dabbled in astrology, as he dabbled in all other arts.(2324) It was a\nstudy which had been cultivated in his family. His great-uncle, Aelius\nHadrianus, was an adept in the science of the stars, and had read the\nprediction of his nephew\u2019s future greatness.(2325) When the future emperor\nwas a young military tribune in lower Moesia, he found the forecast\nconfirmed by a local astrologer. He consulted the _sortes Virgilianae_\nabout his prospects, with not less hopeful results. He practised with\nintense curiosity other dark magical arts, and the mysterious death of\nAntinous on the Nile was by many believed to have been an immolation for\nthe Emperor\u2019s safety.(2326) Hadrian was glad to think that the spirit of\nhis minion had passed into a new star which had then for the first time\nappeared. On every 1st of January, Hadrian predicted, with perfect\nassurance, the events of the year, down to his own last hour.(2327) Even\nthe last great imperial figure in our period is not free from the\nsuspicion of having tampered with the dark arts. Julius Capitolinus\nreports a rumour that M. Aurelius consulted the Chaldaeans about the\ninfatuated passion of Faustina for a gladiator.(2328) In his account of\nthe famous rainfall that miraculously refreshed the Roman troops in the\nMarcomannic war, D. Cassius ascribes the miracle to the magic arts of an\nEgyptian sorcerer whom M. Aurelius kept in his train.(2329) Xiphilinus,\nhowever, who attributes the marvel to the prayers of the Thundering\nLegion, expressly denies that the emperor gave his countenance to these\nimpostors. Another suspicious incident comes to us on the authority of\nLucian. When the war on the Danube was at its height, the new oracle of\nAlexander of Abonoteichos had, by mingled audacity and skill, rapidly\ngained an extraordinary influence even among the greatest nobles in Italy.\nRutilianus, one of the foremost among them, was its special patron and\ndevotee, and actually married the daughter of Alexander by an amour with\nSelene! Probably through his influence, an oracle, in verse of the old\nDelphic pattern, was despatched to the headquarters of the emperor,\nordering that a pair of lions should be flung into the Danube, with costly\nsacrifices and all the fragrant odours of the East.(2330) The oracle was\nobeyed, but the rite was followed by an appalling disaster to the Roman\narms. The impostor was equal to the occasion, and defended himself by the\nexample of the ambiguity of the Delphic oracle to Croesus, before the\nvictory of Cyrus. What part M. Aurelius had in this scene we cannot\npretend to tell, but the ceremony could hardly have been performed\nwithout, at least, his connivance. Nor does his philosophic attitude\nexclude the possibility of a certain faith in oracular foresight and\ndivination. He believed that everything in our earthly lot was ordained\nfrom eternity, and, with the Stoic fatalism, he may have held the almost\nuniversal Stoic faith in the power to discover the decrees of fate.(2331)\n\nNearly all the writers from whom we derive our impressions of that age\nwere more or less tinged with its superstitions. Even the elder Pliny, who\nrejected almost with scorn the popular religion, was led by a dream to\nundertake his history of the wars in Germany.(2332) His nephew, although\nhe rejoiced at being raised to the augurate, and restored a temple of\nCeres on his lands, seems to have clung to the old religion rather as a\nmatter of sentiment than from any real faith. But he had a genuine belief\nin dreams and apparitions, and he sends his friend Sura an elaborate\naccount of the romance of a haunted house at Athens.(2333) His friend\nSuetonius had been disturbed by a dream as to the success of a cause in\nwhich he was to appear. Pliny consoled him with the hackneyed\ninterpretation of dreams by contraries.(2334) The biographer of the\nCaesars may contend with Dion Cassius for the honour of being probably the\nmost superstitious chronicler who ever dealt with great events. Suetonius\nis shocked by the arrogance of Julius Caesar when he treated with disdain\nthe warning of a diviner from the inspection of a victim\u2019s entrails.(2335)\nHe glorifies the pious Augustus by a long catalogue of signs and celestial\nomens which foretold the events of his career.(2336) Suetonius must have\nbeen as keen in collecting these old wives\u2019 tales as the more sober facts\nof history,(2337) and, if we may believe him, the palace of the Caesars\nfor a hundred years was as full of supernatural wonders and the terrors of\nmagic and dark prophecy as the Thessalian villages of Apuleius.(2338) The\nsuperstitions of the Claudian and Flavian Caesars could nowhere have found\na more sympathetic chronicler.\n\nImmensely superior in genius as Tacitus is to Suetonius, even he is not\nemancipated from the superstition of the age. But he wavers in his\nsuperstition, just as he wavers in his conception of the Divine government\nof the world.(2339) Although he occasionally mentions, and briefly\ndiscusses, the tenets of the Epicurean and the Stoic schools, it does not\nseem probable that Tacitus had much taste for philosophy. Full of the old\nsenatorial ideals, he considered such a study, if carried to any depth, or\npursued with absorbing earnestness, to be unbecoming the gravity and\ndignity of a man of rank and affairs.(2340) Moreover, his views of human\ndestiny and the Divine government were coloured and saddened by the\nTerror. Having lived himself through the reign of Domitian, and seen all\nthe horrors of its close, having witnessed, in humiliating silence, the\nexcesses of frenzied power and the servility of cringing compliance,\nTacitus had little faith either in Divine benevolence or in tempted human\nvirtue.(2341) Even the quiet and security of Trajan\u2019s reign seemed to him\nbut a precarious interval, not to be too eagerly or confidently enjoyed,\nbetween the terror of the past and the probable dangers of a coming\nage.(2342) The corruption of Roman virtue has justly earned the anger of\ngods, who no longer visit to protect, but only to avenge.(2343) And, in\nthe chaos of human affairs, the Divine justice is confused; the good\nsuffer equally with the guilty.(2344) Amid obscure and guarded utterances,\nwe can divine that, to Tacitus, the ruling force in human fortunes is a\ndestiny which is blind to the deserts of those who are its sport.(2345) He\nprobably held the widespread belief that the fate of each man was fixed\nfor him at his birth, and, although he has a profound scorn for the\nvenality and falsehood of the Chaldaean tribe, he probably had a wavering\nfaith in the efficacy of their lore.(2346) Nor did he reject miracle and\nsupernatural portent on any ground of a scientific conception of the\nuniverse.(2347) His language on such subjects is often perhaps studiously\nambiguous. Sometimes he appears to report the tale of a portent, as a mere\npiece of vulgar superstition. But at other times, he records the marvel\nwith no expression of scepticism.(2348) And in his narrative of Otho\u2019s\ndeath and the miracles of Vespasian, the threats of heaven which ushered\nin Galba\u2019s brief reign in darkness broken by lurid lightnings, the\nneglected signs of the coming doom of Jerusalem, the glare of arms from\ncontending armies in the sky, the ghostly voices, as of gods departing\nfrom the Holy of Holies, as in the tale of many another omen, dream, or\noracle, the historian gives an awe and grandeur to a superstition which he\ndoes not explicitly reject.(2349)\n\nNor need we be superciliously surprised that the greatest master of\nhistoric tragedy, born into such an age, should have had the balance of\nhis faith disturbed. His infancy and boyhood coincided with the last years\nof Nero.(2350) His youthful imagination must have been disordered and\ninflamed by the tales, circulating in grave old Senatorial houses, of wild\nexcess or mysterious crime on the Palatine, the daring caprice of imperial\nharlots, the regal power and fabulous wealth and luxury of the imperial\nfreedmen, the lunacy of the great line which had founded the Empire, and\nwhich seemed destined to end it in shame and universal ruin. That the\ndestinies of the world should be at the mercy of a Pallas, a Caligula, or\nan Agrippina was a cruel trial to any faith. The carnival of lust and\ncarnage in which the dynasty disappeared,(2351) the shock of the fierce\nstruggle on the Po, in which the legions of the East and the West fought\nwith demoniac force for the great prize, deepened the horrors of the\ntragedy and the gloomy doubts of its future historian. The dawn of a\ntimorous hope, which broke under the calm, strong rule of Vespasian, was\novercast, during the early manhood of Tacitus, by the old insanity of\npower which seemed to revive in the last of the Flavians. Such an\nexperience and such an atmosphere were enough to disorder any imagination.\nThe wild Titanic ambition in the Claudian Caesars, a strange mixture of\nvicious, hereditary insanity,(2352) with a fevered imagination which,\nintoxicated with almost superhuman power, dreamt of unheard of conquests\nover nature, made the Julio-Claudian emperors, in the eyes of men, a race\nhalf-fiend, half-god. Men hated and loathed them, yet were ready to deify\nthem. It did not seem unnatural that Caligula should throw a gigantic arch\nover the Forum, to link the imperial palace with the temple of Jupiter on\nthe Capitol.(2353) Men long refused to believe in the death of Nero, and\nhis reappearance was expected for generations.(2354) In spite of the\nAugustan revival, the calm, if rather formal, sanity of old Roman religion\nhad lost its power over cultivated minds. The East, with its fatalist\nsuperstitions, its apotheosis of lofty earthly sovereignty, its\nenthronement of an evil power beside the good, was completing the\noverthrow of the national faith. The air was full of the lawless and the\nsupernatural. Science, in the modern sense, was yet unborn; it was a mere\nrudimentary mass of random guesses, with as little right to command the\nreason as the legends which sprang from the same lawless imagination.\nPhilosophic speculation in any high sense had almost disappeared. The most\npowerful system which still lingered, resolved the gods into mere names\nfor the various potencies of that dim and awful Power which thrills\nthrough the universe, which fixes from the beginning the destinies of men\nand nations, and which deigns to shadow forth its decrees in omen or\noracle. Awestruck and helpless in the face of a cruel and omnipresent\ndespotism, with little light from accredited systems of philosophy or\nreligion, what wonder that even the highest and most cultivated minds were\ndarkened and bewildered, and were even ready to lend an ear to the sorcery\nof the mysterious East? The hesitating acceptance of the popular belief in\nclairvoyance hardly surprises us in a man like Tacitus, bewildered by the\nchaos of the Empire, and possessing few reasoned convictions in religion\nor philosophy. It is more surprising to find so detached a mind as\nEpictetus recognising in some sort the power of divination. He admits that\nmen are driven to practise it by cowardice or selfish greed.(2355) He\nagrees that the diviner can only predict the external changes of fortune,\nand that on their moral bearing, on the question whether they are really\ngood or evil, he can throw no light. Yet even this preacher of a universal\nProvidence, of the doctrine that our true good and happiness are in our\nown hands, will not altogether deny that the augur can forecast the\nfuture. We should, indeed, Epictetus says, come to consult him, without\nany selfish passion, as a wayfarer asks of a man whom he meets which of\ntwo roads leads to his journey\u2019s end.(2356) But the field for such\nguidance is limited, Where the light of reason or conscience is a\nsufficient guide, the diviner\u2019s art is either useless or corrupting. Nor\nshould any ominous signs deter a man from sharing a friend\u2019s peril, even\nthough the diviner may give warning of exile or death.\n\nNext to Aristides, there is probably no writer who reveals so strikingly\nthe mingled pietism and superstition of the time as Aelian. Although he\npreferred to compose his works in Greek, he was a native of the Latian\nPraeneste, that cool retreat of the wearied Roman, and the seat of the\nfamous shrine of Fortuna Primigenia.(2357) It is a disputed point whether\nAelian belongs to the second century or the third. But the more probable\nconclusion, favoured by the authority of Suidas, is that he lived shortly\nafter the time of Hadrian.(2358) His historical Miscellanies are a good\nexample of that uncritical treatment of history and love of the\nsensational which were held up to scorn by Lucian.(2359) But it is in the\nfragments of his work on Providence, that we have the best illustration of\nhis religious attitude. The immediate interference of the Heavenly Powers,\nto reward the pious believer, or to punish the defiant sceptic, is\ntriumphantly proclaimed. Miracles, oracles, presages, and warning dreams\nstartle the reader on every page. Aelian wages war _\u00e0 outrance_ with the\neffeminate and profane crew of the Epicureans, whom he would certainly\nhave handed over pitilessly to the secular arm, if he had had the\npower.(2360) He records with delight the physical maladies which are said\nto have afflicted Epicurus and his brothers, and the persecution of their\nsect at Messene and in Crete.(2361) After the tale of some specially\nimpressive interference of Providence, he launches ferocious anathemas at\nthe most famous sceptics, Xenophanes, Diagoras, and Epicurus.(2362) He\npursues Epicurus even to the tomb, and pours all his scorn on the\nunbelieving voluptuary\u2019s arrangements for biennial banquets to his\nshade.(2363) He exults in the fate of one who, without initiation, tried\nto get a sight of the holy spectacle at Eleusis, and perished by falling\nfrom his secret point of observation.(2364) It is needless to say that\nmiraculous cures by Asclepius are related with the most exuberant faith.\nAristarchus the tragic poet, and Theopompus the comedian, were restored\nfrom wasting and hopeless sickness by the god.(2365) Another patient of\nthe shrine had the vision, which was probably often a real fact, of a\npriest standing beside his bed in the night, bringing counsels of\nhealing.(2366) But the climax of ludicrous credulity is reached in the\ntale of the pious cock of Tanagra.(2367) This favoured bird, being maimed\nin one leg, appeared before the shrine of Asclepius, holding out the\ninjured limb, and, taking his place in the choir that sung the morning\npaean, begged the god for relief and healing. It came before the evening,\nand the grateful bird, with crest erect, with stately tread, and flapping\nwings, gave voice to his deliverance in his own peculiar notes of praise!\nThe Divine vengeance is also displayed asserting itself in dreams. A\ntraveller, stopping for the night at Megara, had been murdered for his\npurse of gold by the keeper of his inn, and his corpse, hidden in a\ndung-cart, was carried through the gates before dawn. At that very hour\nhis wraith appeared to a citizen of the place, and told him the tale of\nthe tragedy. The treacherous assassin was caught at the very point\nindicated by the ghost.(2368) The last dream of Philemon is of a more\npleasing kind.(2369) The poet, being then in his full vigour, and in\npossession of all his powers, once had a vision in his home at Peiraeus.\nHe thought he saw nine maidens leaving the house, and heard them bidding\nhim adieu. When he awoke, he told the tale to his boy, and finished the\nplay on which he was at work; then, wrapping himself in his cloak, he lay\ndown to sleep, and when they came to wake him, he was dead. Aelian\nchallenges Epicurus to deny that the maidens of the vision were the nine\nMuses, quitting an abode which was soon to be polluted by death.\n\nPublius Aelius Aristides is one of the best representatives of the union\nof high culture with the forces of the religious revival. He saw the\nbeginning and the end of the Antonine age. He was born in 117 A.D. at\nAdriani, in Mysia, where his family held a high position, his father being\npriest of Zeus. He received the most complete rhetorical training, and had\nbeen a pupil of Herodes Atticus. Travelling through Greece, Italy, and\nEgypt, and giving exhibitions of his skill in the fashion of the\nday,(2370) Aristides won a splendid reputation, which swelled his vanity\nto proportions rare even in a class whose vanity was proverbial. He won\nthe restoration of the ruined Smyrna from M. Aurelius, by an oration which\nmoved the Emperor to tears.(2371) With a naturally feeble constitution and\nepileptic tendencies, the excitement of the sophist\u2019s life brought on an\nillness which lasted thirteen years. During that long ordeal, he developed\na mystic superstition which, along with an ever-growing\nself-consciousness, inspired the _Sacred Orations_, which appeared in 177,\nlong after his health had been restored. He visited many seats of sacred\nhealing\u2014Smyrna, Pergamum, Cyzicus, Epidaurus\u2014and, often in a cataleptic\nstate, between sleep and waking, he had visitations of the Higher Powers\nin dreams. They gave him prescriptions of the strangest remedies, along\nwith eulogies on his unrivalled talent, which he was solemnly enjoined to\ndevote to the celebration of his deliverance by the Divine favour.(2372)\n\nAristides zealously obeyed the Divine command. But whether his sole\ninspiration was simple gratitude and unsophisticated piety, crossed by\nsuperstition, as has generally been assumed, may well be doubted.(2373)\nThe truth is, that in Aristides met all the complex influences of his age,\nboth intellectual and spiritual. He was the most elaborate product of the\nrhetorical school, with its cultivated mastery of phrase, its exuberant\npride in the power of words, its indifference to truth, in comparison with\nrhetorical effect. The whole force of revived Hellenism was concentrated\nin this declamatory skill.(2374) At the same time, the religious revival\nwas very far from being a return to the old religion, in its clear firm\noutlines and simple wholeness.(2375) The Zeus and Athene and Poseidon of\nthe age of Aristides were not the divinities of the great age. Many\ninfluences had been at work to blur the clean-cut outlines of Hellenic\nimagination, and to sophisticate the ancestral faith both of Greece and\nRome. Men wished to believe in the ancient gods, but they were no longer\nthe gods of Homer or of Aeschylus, the gods worshipped by the men who\nfought in the Samnite or the Punic wars. Greek philosophy for eight\ncenturies had been teaching a doctrine of one Divine force or essence,\ntranscending the powers and limitations of sense, or immanent in the\nfleeting world of chance and change. Pagan theology had elaborated a\ncelestial hierarchy, in which the Deity, removed to an infinite distance,\nwas remotely linked to humanity by a graduated scale of inferior spiritual\nbeings, daemons, and heroes.(2376) Then came the religions of the East,\nwith their doctrines of expiation for sin and ascetic preparation for\ncommunion, and visions of immortality. And, alongside of all these\ndevelopments, there was a portentous growth of vulgar superstition, belief\nin dreams, omens, and oracles, in any avenue to the \u201cGreat Mystery.\u201d\nSophistic rhetoric, from its very nature and function, was bound to\nreflect the religious spirit of the age, in all its confusion. The ancient\nmyths, indeed, were revived and decked out with rich poetic colouring. Yet\nit is not the simple, na\u00efve, old pagan faith which inspires the rhetorical\nartist. The pantheistic or theosophist doctrines, which were in the air,\ndisturbed the antique character of the piece.(2377) But the sophist, if he\noccasionally catches the tone of new mysticism, or even of rationalist\ninterpretation, is nothing if not orthodox on the whole, and he\nanathematises the impiety of free-thinking philosophy, with the same\nenergy as Aelian. Above all, Aristides is in harmony with the infinite\nfaith in miracle and heavenly vision which was rife.\n\nFrom whatever cause, the worship of Asclepius had attained an\nextraordinary popularity in the age of the Antonines.(2378) The conditions\nof health and disease are so obscure, the influences of will and\nimagination on our bodily states are so marked, that, in all ages, the\nboundaries between the natural and the unknowable are blurred and may be\neasily crossed. The science of medicine, even down to the age of\nHippocrates, or the age of Galen, had not abandoned all faith in the\nmagical and mysterious.(2379) Incantations long held their ground beside\nmore scientific remedies. Health being the most precious and the most\nprecarious of earthly blessings, it is not strange that, in an age of\nrevived belief in the supernatural, the god of health should attain a rank\neven on level with the great Olympian gods. His temples rose in every land\nwhere Greek or Roman culture prevailed. They were generally built with an\neye to beauty of scenery, or the virtues of some clear, cold, ancient\nspring, or other health-giving powers in the site, which might reinforce\nthe more mysterious influences of religion. And in every temple there was\na hierarchy of sacred servants, who guarded a tradition of hieratic\nceremonial and of medical science.(2380) There was the chief priest, who\nmay or may not have been a trained physician. There were the _daduchi_ and\n_pyrophori_, who attended to the punctual service of the altars. There\nwere the _neocori_, who were probably physicians, and who waited on the\npatients, interpreting their visions, and often supplementing them by\nother visions of their own.(2381) There were also, in a lower rank,\nnurses, male and female, who, if we may judge from Aristides, performed\nthe sympathetic part of our own hospital-nurses.(2382) The patients came\nfrom all parts of the Graeco-Roman world. After certain offerings and\nrites, the sufferer took his place in the long dormitory, which often\ncontained beds for 200 or 300, with windows open all night long to the\nwinds of the south. The sick man brought his bed-coverings, and made his\ngift on the altar. The lamps were lighted in the long gallery, a priest\nrecited the vesper prayers. At a later hour, the lights were extinguished,\nstrict silence was enjoined, and a hope for some soothing vision from\nabove was left as a parting gift or salutation by the minister as he\nretired.(2383)\n\nDivination by dreams was one of the most ancient and universal of\nsuperstitions in the pagan world.(2384) It was also one of the most\npersistent to the last days of paganism in the West. The god of Epidaurus\nwas still visiting his votaries by night, when S. Jerome was composing his\ncommentary on Isaiah.(2385) Nor is the superstition unnatural. Sleep, the\nmost mysterious of physical phenomena, gives birth to mental states which\nare a constant surprise. Thoughts and powers which are latent in the\nwaking hours, then start into life with a strange vividness and energy.\nMemory and imagination operate with a force which may well, in an age of\nfaith, be taken for inspiration. The illusion of a double personality,\nwhich results from the helplessness of the mind to react on the\nimpressions of sense, also easily passes into the illusion of messages and\npromptings from powers beyond ourselves. Religious hopes and cravings may\nthus easily and honestly seem to be fulfilled.\n\nBut external causes also reinforced in the ancient world the deceptions of\nthe inner spirit. The dream-oracle was generally on a site where nature\nmight touch the awe and imagination of the votary. Few could have\ndescended into the gloom of the cave of Trophonius without having their\nfancy prepared for visions.(2386) Exhalations from secret chasms, as at\nDelphi and Lebadea, aided by the weird spells of the Nymphs who haunted\nsuch scenes, often produced a physical excitement akin to madness. Opiates\nand potions administered by the priests, with the effect of solemn\nreligious rites, prepared the votary for voices from another world.(2387)\nSoul and body were still further prepared for the touch of a Divine hand\nby rigorous fasting, which was enjoined as a preparatory discipline in so\nmany mysteries of the renascent paganism.(2388) The heavenly vision could\nonly come to the clear spirit, purged as far as might be from the\ngrossness of the flesh.(2389) _\u1f18\u03b3\u03ba\u03bf\u03af\u03bc\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2_ for the sake of healing became\na great, and probably in the main, a beneficent institution in the temples\nof many deities,(2390) pre-eminently in those of Isis, Serapis, and\nAsclepius. The temple of Serapis at Canopus in Strabo\u2019s time was thronged\nby patients of the noblest rank, and was famous for its miraculous\ncures.(2391) Among the many attributes of Queen Isis, none made a deeper\nimpression than her benignant power of healing even the most desperate\ncases.(2392) Her temples rose everywhere. Her dream interpreters were\nfamous from the days of Cicero.(2393) In her shrine at Smyrna Aristides\nhad many of his most startling experiences. According to Diodorus, her\npriests could point to numberless proofs of the power of the great goddess\nto cure the most inveterate disease. But the great healer was, of course,\nAsclepius. The remains of his splendid shrine at Epidaurus are a\nrevelation at once of his fame and power, and of the scenes and\noccupations in which the devout health-seekers passed their days and\nnights. In his temple on the island in the Tiber, dreams of healing were\nstill sought in the time of Iamblichus. His shrine at Pergamum, which was\nthe scene of so many of the strange visions of Aristides, in his many\nyears of struggle with disease, was one of the most famous, and its\ninspired dreams were sought long afterwards by the emperor\nCaracalla.(2394)\n\nIt would be idle to speculate on the relative effects of sound medical\ntreatment and of superstition, stimulated by more or less pious arts, upon\nthe constitution of the sufferer. The virtues of herb or mineral drug, of\nregulated food and abstinence, of bathing in naturally medicated waters,\nabove all of a continual freshness in the air, must have become a\ntradition in these sacred homes of the god of health. Physical disease is\noften rooted in moral disorder, and for such troubled, tainted souls, with\nhereditary poison in vein and nerve, the bright cheerfulness, the orderly\ncalm and confidence of the ritual, which had such a charm for the soul of\nPlutarch, may have exorcised, for the time, many an evil spirit, and wiped\nout the memory of old sins. Soothed and relieved in mind and body, the\nsufferer lay in the dimly lighted corridor, sinking to sleep, with a\nconfidence that the god would somehow make his power felt in visions of\nthe night.(2395) Through a sliding panel, hidden in the wall, a dim figure\nof gracious aspect might glide to the side of his couch, and whisper\nstrange sweet words of comfort. But in many cases, there is no need to\nassume the existence of sanctified imposture.(2396) A debilitated frame,\nnerves shattered by prolonged suffering, an imagination excited by sacred\nlitany, ghostly counsels and tales of miracle, the all-pervading\natmosphere of an immemorial faith, may easily have engendered visions\nwhich seemed to come from another world.(2397)\n\nBut from whatever source the visions came, they had a powerful effect on\nthe imagination, and, through that, on the bodily health. Some of the\nprescriptions indeed given by these voices of the night may seem to us\nludicrous or positively dangerous.(2398) But the tone and surroundings of\nthese shrines, and the sense of being encompassed by Divine as well as\nhuman sympathy, probably counteracted any ill effects of quackery. The\ncalm, serene order, which the hieratic spirit cultivates at its best, the\ncheerful routine of the sacred service, blending indistinguishably with\nthe ministry to suffering, and consecrating and ennobling it, the\nconfidence inspired by the sedate cheerfulness of the priests and\nattendants, reinforced by the countless cases of miraculous cures recorded\non the walls,(2399)\u2014all this must have had a powerful and beneficent\ninfluence. And the visitors were not all invalids. The games and festivals\ndrew together many merely for society and amusement. The theatre at\nEpidaurus must have provided constant entertainment for a far larger\nconcourse than the patients of the temple.(2400) A healthy regimen, which\nis abundantly attested,(2401) with the charms of art and surrounding\nbeauties of hill and woodland, tended of themselves to restore peace and\nbalance to disordered nerves. And the social life, especially to Greeks,\nwas probably the most potent influence of all. We can see from Aristides\nthat troublesome cases were watched by a circle of curious\nsympathisers.(2402) In those marble seats, which can still be seen on the\nsite, many a group, through many generations, must have sat listening to\nmusic or recitation, or discussing high themes of life and death, or\namused with the more trivial gossip of all gatherings of men.\n\nAmid such scenes Aristides spent thirteen years of the prime of his\nmanhood. With all the egotism of the self-pitying invalid, he has recorded\nthe minutest details of his ailments. He seems to have been disordered in\nevery organ, dropsical, asthmatic, dyspeptic, with a tumour of portentous\nsize, and agonising pains which reduced him to the extremity of\nweakness.(2403) But the extraordinary toughness and vitality of the man is\neven more striking than his sufferings. Aristides regarded health as the\ngreatest of all blessings, the condition on which the value of all other\nblessings depends. And he acted on the belief. His hundred days journey to\nRome is a miracle of endurance.(2404) Racked with fever and asthma, unable\nto take any food except milk, he struggled along, alternately through\nplains turned into lakes, or across the frozen Hebrus, amid storm or rain\nor freezing cold.\n\nThe effects of this journey in aggravated suffering from asthma, dropsy,\nnervous agony, are described with painful vividness. They were dealt with\nby the Roman surgeons in a fashion which makes one wonder how the patient\nsurvived such laceration.(2405) The invalid hastened home to Asia by sea.\nThe voyage was long and weary, a very Odyssey of storm and wandering.\nAristides reached Smyrna in mid-winter, and all the physicians were\npuzzled to find any alleviation for his troubles.(2406) Henceforth he\npassed, for thirteen years, from one temple to another, at the bidding of\nthe gods\u2014from Smyrna to Pergamum, or Chios, or Cyzicus, or\nEpidaurus\u2014enduring often frightful hardships by land or sea. The\ndescription of his sufferings sometimes excites the suspicion that a warm\nimagination and the vanity of the literary artist have heightened the\neffect. A tumour of monstrous size,(2407) agonies of palpitation and\nbreathlessness, the torture of dyspepsia, vertigo, and neuralgia which\ndoubled up his limbs, and seemed to bend the spine outward like a\nbow(2408)\u2014these are only a few of the morbid horrors which afflicted him.\n\nThe divine prescriptions were often as astounding as the malady was\nsevere. Fresh air, exercise, bathing in the sacred wells, fasting and\nabstinence, indeed, may often have been sound treatment. But to these were\nadded astonishing prescriptions of food or drugs, purgings and\nblood-letting which drained the body of its slight remaining strength, and\nwhich horrified the attendant physicians.(2409) But these were not the\nworst. Again and again, Aristides was enjoined, when in a high fever, to\nbathe two or three times in an ice-cold river running in full flood, and\nthen race a mile at full speed in the face of a northerly gale. He obeyed\nin spite of all remonstrance, and the doctors and his anxious friends\ncould only follow him to await the result of such extraordinary remedies.\nStrange to relate, their fears and forebodings proved groundless.\nReligious excitement, combined with immense vanity and a strange vitality,\ncarried Aristides victoriously through these ordeals,(2410) and his\nfriends received him at their close, with an indescribable genial warmth\nspreading through his whole body, and a lightness and cheerfulness of\nspirit which more than rewarded him for these strange hardships of\nsuperstition.\n\nThe faith of Aristides must have been very robust. His tortures lasted for\nnearly thirteen years, during which the divine prescriptions only seemed\nto add to their poignancy. But he was upheld by the belief that he was a\nspecial object of the Divine favour, and he persistently followed Divine\nrecipes, which ordinary human skill and prudence would have rejected. No\ndoubts, such as troubled his attendants, ever crossed his mind. How far\nhis illness was prolonged by this obstinate adherence to the illusions of\nsleep and superstition,(2411) in the face of expert advice, is a matter on\nwhich it would be useless to speculate. It is probable that the\nimagination and exuberant vanity of Aristides made him a more difficult\npatient than the ordinary people who frequented these shrines of healing.\nIt is also evident that there was a body of more or less skilled medical\nopinion connected with the cult of Asclepius. Practical physicians came to\nthe temples,(2412) with the benevolence and the curiosity of their craft\nin all ages, to observe and study, or to advise a cautious interpretation\nof the revelations of the night. Aristides has preserved the names of\nsome\u2014Theodotus, Asclepiacus, and Satyrus. Long observation of the freaks\nof individual temperament and constitution must have suggested to\nthoughtful minds, with some instincts of scientific method, that the\nsupernatural vision should be interpreted in the light of experience. An\nawful dream of Aristides that all his bones and sinews must be excised,\nturned, in the hands of a faithful attendant, into a prediction of renewed\nvitality.(2413) And although some of the nurses, to whom he is so\ngrateful, confirmed his visions by precisely similar revelations of their\nown,(2414) others, of the more skilled physicians, openly blamed his too\nconfident reliance on his dreams, and his unwillingness to try the effect\nof more scientific treatment.(2415) Their proposals, however, were\nsometimes so severe and heroic that we may excuse him for preferring on\nthe whole the more patient and gentle methods of the god. The sufferer was\nsometimes favoured with epiphanies of Athene, Apollo, Serapis, and other\ngreat divinities, exalting him far above the rank of common\nvotaries.(2416) And Asclepius himself, to whom his special devotion was\ngiven, not only lightened his physical tortures, although after long\nyears, but endowed him with hitherto unknown powers of rhetorical skill\nand readiness. The god became the patron of his whole professional\nlife.(2417) And Aristides regarded him as the source of fresh inspiration,\nin the exercise of that wordcraft of which he was the greatest master in\nhis time. It is not hard to discern the meaning of this self-deception.\nBefore Aristides began to visit the temples of the god, he was already a\nfinished rhetor, possessed of all the skill which the Greek schools could\nimpart.(2418) Prostrated by bodily suffering for years, cut off from that\nlife of brilliant display, which was so lavishly rewarded by applauding\ncrowds, the vain and ambitious declaimer had lost not only his bodily\nhealth, but all the joy and excitement of rhetorical triumph. Suddenly he\nfound his balance restored; the tide of energy returned to its old\nchannels. He could once more draw music from the almost forgotten\ninstrument. He had once more the full lecture-hall under his spell. What\nwonder that he should feel his powers redoubled when they were recovered,\nand that he should regard the god who had healed his bodily ailments as\nthe author of a fresh literary inspiration?\n\nThe debt was repaid in these Sacred Orations.(2419) Some treat them as the\nexpression of a genuine mystical piety, others are inclined to think that\nthe incorrigible rhetorician is quite as evident as the pious\nvotary.(2420) It would be an excess of scepticism to doubt that Aristides\nbelieved in his visions, and in the beneficent power of the god, for which\nhe was full of pious gratitude. Yet the rhetorical spirit of that age was\nan influence of singular intensity. It mastered not only the faculty of\nutterance, but the whole mind and life of the rhetorician. The passion to\nproduce a startling or seductive effect on the audience had become a\nsecond nature. Truth was a secondary matter, not from any moral obliquity,\nbut from the influence of prolonged training. And so, we may retain a\nbelief in the genuine piety or superstition of Aristides, while we may\ndistrust his narrative. The piety or the mystic superstition may not have\nbeen less sincere, although it was mingled with egregious vanity, and\nexpressed itself in the carefully moulded and highly coloured phrases of\nthe schools. Nor should we doubt the piety of Aristides because he deemed\nhimself the special object of Divine favour. On such a principle all\nprayer for personal benefits would become profane egotism. And although\nAristides was profoundly conscious that he was the first of Greek\norators,(2421) he was also profoundly grateful for the Divine grace which\nhad renewed his powers for the glory of God and the delight and profit of\nmankind. Whether he would have been content to enjoy his mystic raptures\nwithout publishing them to the world, is a question which will be\nvariously answered according to the charity and spiritual experience of\nthe inquirer.\n\nMany another less famous shrine than that of Epidaurus offered this kind\nof revelation. The gods were liberal in their prophetic gifts in that age,\nand dreams were as freely sent as they were generally expected. There is\nno more striking example of the superstition of the age than the treatise\nof Artemidorus on the interpretation of dreams. Artemidorus lived towards\nthe end of the second century. He was a native of Ephesus, but he called\nhimself Daldianus, in order to share his distinction with an obscure\nlittle town in Lydia, which was the birthplace of his mother.(2422) The\ntreatise is in five books, three of which are dedicated to Cassius\nMaximus, a Roman of rank, who was an adept in this pretended science; the\nothers are inscribed to the son of the author. In spite of absurd\ncredulity, wild and perverted ingenuity and a cold, quasi-scientific\ntolerance of some of the worst moral enormities of antiquity, Artemidorus\nseems to have been an earnest and industrious man, who wrote with the\nmistaken object of doing a service both to his own age and to\nposterity.(2423) Like other pious men of the time, he was afflicted by the\nprofane attitude of the sceptics,(2424) and determined to refute them by\nthe solid proofs of a sifted experience. He also wished to furnish\nguidance to the crowd, who believed in their visions, but were bewildered\nfrom the want of clear canons of interpretation. There was evidently\nafloat a voluminous oneirocritic literature. But it was, according to\nArtemidorus, frequently wanting in depth and system,(2425) and random\nguesses had too often been the substitute for minute, exhaustive\nobservation and a clear scientific method. Artemidorus was inspired to\nsupply the want by a vision from Apollo, his ancestral patron.(2426) He\nprocured every known treatise on dreams.(2427) He travelled all over Asia,\nGreece, and Italy, and the larger islands, visiting the great festivals\nand centres of population, and consulting with all the seers and diviners,\neven those of the lowest repute. He took the greatest pains to ascertain\nthe facts of the reported fulfilment of dreams, and to compare and sift\nthe facts of his own observation. No austere scientific student of nature\nin our day ever took himself more seriously than this collector of the\nwildest and foulest hallucinations of pagan imagination. Artemidorus\nreally believed that he was founding an enduring science for the guidance\nof all coming generations.\n\nYet the foundation of it all is essentially unscientific. To Artemidorus\ndreams are not the result of natural causes, of physical states, or of the\nsuggestions of memory and association. They are sent directly by some god,\nas a promise or warning of the future. Nor should any apparent failure of\nthe prediction tempt us to impeach the truthfulness of the Divine author.\nArtemidorus affirms as emphatically as Plato, that the gods can never\nlie.(2428) But although they sometimes express themselves plainly, they\nalso frequently veil their meaning in shadowy, enigmatic form, in order to\ntest men\u2019s faith and patience.(2429) Hence there is need of skilled\ninterpretation, which demands the widest observation, acute criticism\ncombined with reverent faith, and deference to ancient custom and\ntraditional lore. It is curious to see how this apostle of what, to our\nminds, is a pestilent superstition, pours his scorn on the newer or lower\nforms of divination.(2430) The Pythagorean dream-readers, the interpreters\nfrom hand and face and form, the interpreters of sieve and dish and dice,\nare all deceivers and charlatans. The old formulated and accredited lore\nof birds and sacrificial entrails, of dreams and stars and heavenly\nportents, should alone be accepted by an orthodox faith. It is needless to\nsay that Artemidorus believed in astrology as he believed in oneiromancy.\nBoth beliefs go back to the infancy of the race, and both extended their\ndominion far into the Middle Ages.(2431)\n\nIt would be impossible, in our space, to give any detailed conception of\nthe treatment of dreams by Artemidorus. Nor would the attempt reward the\npains; the curious specialist must read the treatise for himself. He will\nfind in it one of the most astonishing efforts of besotted credulity to\ndisguise itself under the forms of scientific inquiry. He will find an\napparently genuine piety united with an unprotesting record of the most\nrevolting prurience of the lawless fancy. He will find a subtlety and\nformalism of system and distinction worthy of a finished schoolman of the\nfourteenth century, and all employed to give order and meaning to the\nwildest vagaries of vulgar fancy. The classification of dreams by\nArtemidorus is a great effort, and is followed out in an exhaustive order.\nEvery possible subject, and many that seem to a modern almost\ninconceivable, are catalogued, each in its proper place, with the\nappropriate principles of explanation. The hierarchy of gods and heroes in\ntheir various grades, the orbs of the sky, the various parts of the bodily\nframe, from the hair of the head to the toes and nails, the various\noccupations and multiform incidents in the life of man from the cradle to\nthe grave,(2432) the whole list of animals, plants, and drugs which serve\nhis uses,\u2014all these things, and many others which might conceivably, or\ninconceivably, enter into the fabric of a dream, are painfully collected\nand arranged for the guidance of the future inquirer. And this demands not\nonly an effort of logical classification, but also an immense knowledge of\nthe customs and peculiarities of different races,(2433) the special\nattributes of each of the gods, and a minute acquaintance with the natural\nhistory of the time. For, special circumstances and details cannot be\nsafely neglected in the interpretation of dreams. It may make the greatest\ndifference whether the same dream comes to a rich man or a poor man,(2434)\nto a man or a woman, to a married woman or a virgin, to old or young, to\nking or subject. To one it may mean the greatest of blessings, to another\ncalamity or death. For instance, for a priest of Isis to dream of a shaven\nhead is of good omen; to any other person it is ominous of evil.(2435) To\ndream that you have the head of a lion or elephant is a prediction of a\nrise above your natural estate; but to dream that you have the horns of an\nox portends violent death.(2436) To dream of shoemaking and carpentry\nforetells happy marriage and friendship, but the vision of a tanner\u2019s\nyard, from its connection with foul odours and death, may foreshadow\ndisgrace and disaster.(2437) To dream of drinking cold water is a\nwholesome sign; but a fancied draught of hot fluid, as being unnatural,\nmay forbode disease or failure.(2438) A man dreamt that his mother was\nbearing him a second time; the issue was that he returned from exile to\nhis motherland, found his mother ill, and inherited her property. Another\nhad a vision of an olive shooting from his head; he developed a vigour and\nclearness of thought and language worthy of the goddess to whom the olive\nis sacred.(2439) It would be wearisome, and even disgusting, to give other\nexamples of this futile and almost idiotic superstition, masquerading as a\nscience. A painstaking student might easily classify the modes of\ninterpretation. They are tolerably uniform, and rest on fanciful but\nobvious conceits, superficial analogies, mere play upon words and\nimpossible etymologies. The interpretations are as dull and monotonous as\nthe dreams are various and fantastic. Many of these visions seem like the\nwildest hallucinations of prurient lunacy. It is difficult to conceive\nwhat was the ordinary state of mind and the habits of a people whose sleep\nwas haunted by visions so lawless. It is perhaps even harder to imagine a\nfather, with the infinite industry of which he is so proud, compiling such\na catalogue for the study of his son.(2440)\n\nLucian, through the mouth of Momus, pours his scorn on the new oracles\nwhich were chanting from every rock, vending their lies at two obols\napiece, and overshadowing the ancient glories of the more ancient\nshrines.(2441) In the last century of the Republic, and in the first\ncentury of the Empire, the faith in oracles had suffered a portentous\ndecay. The exultation of the Christian Fathers at the desertion of the\nancient seats of prophecy seems to find an echo in the record of heathen\nauthors. Cicero speaks as if Delphi were almost silent.(2442) Strabo tells\nus that Delphi, Dodona, and Ammon had shared in the general contempt which\nhad fallen on oracular divination.(2443) From Plutarch we have seen that\nin Boeotia, the most famous home of the art, all the oracular shrines were\nsilent and deserted, except that of Trophonius at Lebadea.(2444) And\ncurious inquirers gave various explanations of this waning faith. Strabo\nthought that, with the spread of Roman power, the Sibylline prophecies and\nthe Etruscan augury eclipsed the Greek and Eastern oracles. The\nexplanation in Plutarch, as we have seen, is involved in an interesting\ndiscussion of the various sources of inspiration, and, in particular, of\nthe office of daemons. One theorist of the positive type attributes the\nfailure of the Greek oracles to the growing depopulation of Greece. It is\na question of demand and supply. Others find the explanation in physical\nchanges, which have extinguished or diverted the exhalation that used to\nexcite the prophetic powers of the Pythia. Another falls back on the\ntheory of daemonic inspiration, which, mysteriously vouchsafed, may be as\nmysteriously withdrawn.(2445)\n\nThe eclipse of the oracles was really a phase of that pagan unbelief or\nindifference which tended to disappear towards the end of the first\ncentury A.D. And the eclipse perhaps was not so complete as it is\nrepresented. Cicero himself consulted the Pythia about his future fame,\nand received an answer which revealed insight into his character.(2446)\nGermanicus in the reign of Tiberius visited the shrine of the Clarian\nApollo, and that of Apis at Memphis;(2447) Tiberius tried the sacred\nlottery at Padua,(2448) Caligula that of Fortune at Antium.(2449) Nero,\nalthough he is said to have choked the sacred chasm at Delphi with\ncorpses, had previously sought light from the god on his perilous\nfuture.(2450) Before the altar of the unseen God on Mount Carmel,\nVespasian received an impressive prophecy of his coming greatness.(2451)\nTitus had his hopes confirmed in the shrine of the Paphian Venus.(2452)\nWhen these lords of the world, some of whom were notorious sceptics, thus\npaid deference to the ancient homes of prophecy, it may be doubted whether\ntheir prestige had been seriously shaken.\n\nAlthough Delphi had not for many ages wielded the enormous political, and\neven international, power which it enjoyed before the Persian wars, still,\neven in the days of its greatest obscurity, it was the resort of many who\ncame to consult it in the ordinary cares of life. Apollonius of Tyana, in\nthe reign of Nero, visited the old oracular centres, Delphi, Dodona, Abae,\nand the shrines of Amphiaraus and Trophonius.(2453) They seem to be still\nactive, although the sage had, in fulfilment of his mission, to correct\ntheir ritual. The newer foundations, like that at Abonoteichos, found it\npolitic to defer to the authority of oracles, such as those of Clarus and\nDidyma, with a great past.(2454) If the conquests of Rome for a time\nobscured their fame, the ease and rapidity of communication along the\nRoman roads, and the safety of the seas, must have swelled the number of\ntheir votaries from all parts of the world. It is a revelation to find a\nTungrian cohort at a remote station in Britain setting up a votive\ninscription in obedience to the voice of the Clarian Apollo.(2455) If new\noracles were springing up in the Antonine age, the old were certainly not\nquite neglected. In the reign of Trajan the shrine of Delphi recovered\nfrom its degradation by the violence of Nero.(2456) And Hadrian, as we\nhave seen, tested the inspiration of the Pythia by a question as to the\nbirthplace of Homer, which was answered by a verse tracing his ancestry to\nPylos and Ithaca.(2457) The ancient oracles were in full vigour under the\nemperors of the third century. Some of the greatest and most\nvenerable\u2014Delphi, Didyma, Mallus, and Dodona\u2014were not reduced to silence\ntill the reign of Constantine.(2458)\n\nBut the old oracles could not satisfy the omnivorous superstition of the\ntime. The outburst of new oracles may be compared, perhaps, to the\nfissiparous tendencies of Protestantism in some countries, at each fresh\nrevival of religious excitement. Any fresh avenue to the \u201cGreat Mystery\u201d\nwas at once eagerly crowded. And the most recent claimant to inspiration\nsometimes threatened to overshadow the tradition of a thousand years, and\nto assert an oecumenical power.\n\nOne such case has been recorded and exposed with the graphic skill and\npenetrating observation of the greatest genius of the age. Lucian\u2019s\ndescription of the foundation of the new oracle of Asclepius at\nAbonoteichos in Paphlagonia, if it is wanting in the sympathetic handling\nwhich modern criticism has attained or can affect, is an unrivalled\nrevelation of the superstition of the time. And a brief narrative of the\nimposture will probably give a more vivid idea of it than any abstract\ndissertation.\n\nAlexander, the founder, was a man of mean parentage, but of remarkable\nnatural gifts. Tall and handsome in no ordinary degree, he had eyes with a\nsearching keenness, a look of inspiration, and a voice most clear and\nsweet.(2459) His mental gifts were equal to his physical charm. In memory,\nquick perception, shrewdness, and subtlety, he had few equals. But from\nhis early youth, with the affectation of Pythagorean asceticism, he had\nall the vices which go to make the finished reprobate.(2460) After a youth\nof abandoned sensuality, in concert with a confederate of no better\ncharacter, he determined to found an oracle. The times were favourable for\nsuch a venture. Never had selfish desire and terror, twin roots of\nsuperstition, such a hold on mankind.(2461) The problem was, where to\nestablish the new shrine. It must be founded among a crassly stupid\npopulation, ready to accept any tale of the marvellous with the most\nabandoned credulity.(2462) Paphlagonia seemed to the shrewd observers the\nreadiest prey. Tablets were dug up, which predicted an epiphany of\nAsclepius at Abonoteichos. A Sibylline oracle, in enigmatic verse,\nheralded the coming of the god. Alexander, magnificently attired, appeared\nupon the scene, with all the signs of mysterious insanity, and the\nPaphlagonians were thrown into hysterical excitement.(2463) Their last new\ngod was fished up from a lake in the form of a young serpent, which had\nbeen artfully sealed up in a goose\u2019s egg. When the broken shell revealed\nthe nascent deity, the multitude were in an ecstasy of excitement at the\nhonour vouchsafed to their city. The infant reptile was soon replaced by\none full grown, to which a very elementary art had attached a human head.\nIt was displayed to the crowds who trooped through the reception-room of\nthe impostor, and they went away to spread throughout all Asia the tidings\nof the unheard-of miracle.(2464) Alexander had carefully studied the\nsystem of the older oracles, and he proceeded to imitate it. He received\ninquiries on sealed tablets, and, with all ancient pomp and ceremony of\nattendance, returned them, apparently untouched, with the proper answer.\nBut Lucian minutely explains the art with which the seal of the missive\nwas dexterously broken and restored.(2465) A hot needle and a delicate\nhand could easily reveal the secret of the question, and hide the trick.\nThe oracle was primarily medical. Prescriptions were given in more or less\nambiguous phrases. The charge for each consultation was, in our money, the\nsmall fee of a shilling.(2466) Alexander was evidently a shrewd business\nman, and his moderate charges attracting a crowd of inquirers, the income\nof the oracle rose, according to Lucian, to the then enormous sum of\nnearly \u00a37000 a year.(2467) But the manager was liberal to his numerous\nstaff of secretaries, interpreters, and versifiers.(2468) He had,\nmoreover, missionaries who spread his fame in foreign lands, and who\noffered the service of the oracle in recovering runaway slaves,\ndiscovering buried treasure, healing sickness, and raising the dead.(2469)\nEven the barbarians on the outskirts of civilisation were attracted by his\nfame, and, after an interval required to find a translator among the\nmotley crowd who thronged from all lands, an answer would be returned even\nin the Celtic or Syrian tongue.(2470) The fame of the oracle, of course,\nsoon spread to Italy, where the highest nobles, eager for any novelty in\nreligion, were carried away by the pretensions of Alexander. None among\nthem stood higher than Rutilianus, either in character or official rank.\nBut he was the slave of every kind of extravagant superstition.(2471) He\nwould fall down and grovel along the way before any stone which was\nshining with oil or decked with garlands. He sent one emissary after\nanother to Abonoteichos to consult the new god. They returned, some full\nof genuine enthusiasm, some hiding their doubts by interested exaggeration\nof what they had seen. Soon society and the court circle felt all the\ndelight of a new religious sensation. Great nobles hurried away to\nPaphlagonia, and fell an easy prey to the gracious charm and the ingenious\ncharlatanry of Alexander.(2472) Some, who had consulted the oracle by\nquestions which might have a sinister meaning, and suggest dangerous\nambitions, he knew how to terrify into his service by the hint of possible\ndisclosure.(2473) All came back to swell the fame of the Paphlagonian\noracle and to make it fashionable in Italy. But none were so besotted as\nRutilianus. This great Roman noble, who had been proved in a long career\nof office,(2474) at the mature age of sixty, stooped to wed the supposed\ndaughter of the vulgar charlatan by Selene, who had honoured him with the\nlove which she gave of old to Endymion!(2475) And Rutilianus henceforth\nbecame the stoutest champion of Alexander against all assaults of\nscepticism. For, in spite of the credulity of the crowd and of the\nvisitors from Rome, there was evidently a strong body of sturdy dissent.\nThere were, in those days, followers of Epicurus even in Paphlagonia, and,\nby a strange freak of fortune, the followers of Christ found themselves\nmaking common cause against a new outbreak of heathenism with the\natheistic philosophy of the Garden.(2476) An honest Epicurean once\nconvicted Alexander of a flagrant deception, and narrowly escaped being\nstoned to death by the fanatics of Paphlagonia.(2477) One of the books of\nEpicurus was publicly burnt in the agora by order of Alexander, and the\nashes cast into the sea. Lucian himself, with his sly, amused scepticism,\ntested and exposed the skill of the oracle at the most imminent risk to\nhis life.(2478)\n\nBut in spite of all exposure and opposition, the oracle, managed with such\nart and supported with such blind enthusiasm, conquered for a time the\nRoman world. It was a period of calamity and gloom. Plague and earthquake\nadded their horrors to the brooding uncertainty of the dim conflict on the\nDanube.(2479) The emissaries of Alexander went everywhere, exploiting the\ngeneral terror. Prediction of coming evil was safe at such a time; any\nshred of comfort or hope was eagerly sought for. A hexameter verse,\npromising the help of Apollo, was inscribed over every doorway as an\namulet against the awful pestilence of 166 A.D. Another ordered two lion\u2019s\ncubs to be flung into the Danube, to check the advance of the\nMarcomanni.(2480) Both proved dismal failures, but without shaking the\nauthority of the impostor, who found an easy apology in the darkness of\nold Delphic utterances. He established mysteries after the model of\nEleusis, from which Christians and Epicureans were excluded under a solemn\nban. Scenes of old and new mythologies were presented with brilliant\neffects\u2014the labour of Leto, the birth of Apollo, the birth of Asclepius,\nthe epiphany of Glycon, the new wondrous serpent-deity of Abonoteichos,\nthe loves of Alexander and Selene. The second Endymion lay sleeping, as on\nLatmus in the ancient story, and the moon goddess, in the person of a\ngreat Roman dame, descended from above to woo a too real earthly\nlover.(2481)\n\nLucian\u2019s history of the rise of the new oracle in Paphlagonia is not,\nperhaps, free from some suspicion of personal antipathy to the founder of\nit. He attributes to Alexander not only the most daring deceit and\ncalculating quackery, but also the foulest vices known to the ancient\nworld. These latter charges may or may not be true. Theological or\nanti-theological hatred has in all ages too often used the poisoned arrow.\nAnd the moral character of Alexander has less interest for us than the\nspiritual condition of his many admirers and votaries. He can hardly be\nacquitted of some form of more or less pious imposture. How far it was\naccompanied by real religious enthusiasm is a problem which will be\nvariously solved, and which is hardly worth the trouble of investigation,\neven if the materials existed for a certain answer. But the eager\nreadiness of a whole population to hail the appearance of a new god, and\nthe acceptance of his claims by men the most cultivated and highly placed\nin the Roman Empire, are facts on which Lucian\u2019s testimony, addressed to\ncontemporaries, cannot be rejected. Nor is there anything in our knowledge\nof the period from other sources which renders the thing doubtful.\nCreative mythology had revived its activity. Not long before the epiphany\nof Glycon, in a neighbouring part of Asia Minor the Apostles Paul and\nBarnabas, after the miraculous cure of the impotent man, had difficulty in\nescaping divine honours. The Carpocratians, a Gnostic sect, about the same\ntime built a temple in honour of the youthful son of their founder.(2482)\nThe corn-goddess Annona first appears in the first century, and\ninscriptions, both in Italy and Africa, were set up in honour of the power\nwho presided over the commissariat of the Roman mob.(2483) The youthful\nfavourite of Hadrian, after his mysterious death in the waters of the\nNile, was glorified by instant apotheosis. His statues rose in every\nmarket-place and temple court; his soul was supposed to have found a home\nin a new star in the region of the milky way; temples were built in his\nhonour, and the strange cult was maintained for at least a hundred years\nafter any motive could be found for adulation.(2484) The Cynic brothers,\nand the gaping crowd who stood around the pyre of Peregrinus at Olympia\nwere eager, as we have seen, to hail the flight of a great soul to join\nthe heroes and demigods in Olympus.(2485) The cult of M. Aurelius was\nmaintained by an enthusiasm very different from the conventional\napotheosis of the head of the Roman State. We are told that he was adored,\nby every age and sex and class, long after his death. His sacred image\nfound a place among the _penates_ of every household, and the home where\nit was not honoured was of more than suspected piety. Down to the time of\nDiocletian, the saintly and philosophic emperor, who had preached an\nimperturbable indifference to the chances and changes of life, was\nbelieved to visit his anxious votaries with dreams of promise or\nwarning.(2486)\n\nMaximus of Tyre may have been guilty of no exaggeration when he reckoned\nthe heavenly host as thrice ten thousand.(2487) The cynical voluptuary of\nNero\u2019s reign, who said that a town of Magna Graecia was inhabited by more\ngods than men, only used a comic hyperbole to enforce a striking\nfact.(2488) The anthropomorphic conceptions of Deity, which were\nprevalent, easily overleapt the interval between the human and Divine. The\ncrowds of the Antonine age were as ready to recognise the god in human\nform as the Athenians of the days of Pisistratus, who believed that they\nsaw in the gigantic Phye an epiphany of the great goddess of their\nAcropolis, leading the tyrant home.(2489) In the minds of a philosophic\nminority, nurtured on the theology of Plato, there might be the dim\nconception of one awful and remote Power, far removed from the grossness\nof earth, far above the dreams of mythologic poetry and the materialist\nimagination of the masses. Yet even philosophy, as we have already seen,\nhad succumbed to the craving for immediate contact, or for some means of\ncommunication, with the Infinite Spirit. The daemons of Plutarch and\nMaximus of Tyre were really a new philosophic mythology, created to give\nmeaning and morality to the old gods. These hosts of baleful or\nministering spirits, with which the Platonist surrounded the life of man,\ndivine in the sweep of their power, human in their passions or sympathies,\nbelong really to the same order as the Poseidon who pursued Odysseus with\ntempest, or the Moon goddess who descended on Latmus to kiss the sleeping\nEndymion. Anthropomorphic paganism was far from dead; it was destined to\nlive openly for more than three hundred years, and to prolong a secret\nlife of subtle influence under altered forms, the term of which who shall\nventure to fix?\n\nThe daemons of the Platonic philosophers find their counterpart in the\npopular cult of _genii_. If there was a visible tendency to syncretism and\nmonotheistic faith in the second century, there was a no less manifest\ndrift to the endless multiplication of spiritual powers. The tendency,\nindeed, to create divine representatives of physical forces and dim\nabstract qualities was from early ages congenial to the Roman mind. All\nthe phenomena of nature\u2014every act, pursuit, or vicissitude in human\nlife\u2014found a spiritual patron in the Roman imagination.(2490) But the\ntendency received an immense impulse in the age with which we are dealing,\nand the inscriptions of the imperial period reveal an almost inexhaustible\nfertility of religious fancy. Every locality, every society and occupation\nof men, has its patron genius, to whom divine honours are paid or\nrecorded,\u2014the canton, the municipality, the curia; the spring or grove;\nthe legion or cohort or troop; the college of the paviors or smiths or\nactors; the emperors, or even the great gods themselves.(2491)\n\nThe old gods of Latium still retained a firm hold on the devotion of the\nsimple masses, as crowds of inscriptions record. But ancient religion, in\nits cruder forms, divided and localised the Divine power by endless\ndemarcations of place and function. Although the Roman centurion or\nmerchant might believe in the power of his familiar gods to follow him\nwith their protection, and never forgot them, still each region, to which\nhis wanderings carried him, had its peculiar spirits, who wielded a\nspecial potency within their own domain, and whom it was necessary to\npropitiate. On hundreds of provincial inscriptions we can read the\ncatholic superstition of the Roman legionary. The mystery of desert or\nforest, the dangers of march and bivouack, stimulated his devotion. If he\ndoes not know the names of the strange deities, he will invoke them\ncollectively side by side with the gods whom he has been taught to\nvenerate. He will adore the \u201cgenius loci,\u201d(2492) or all the gods of\nMauritania or of Britain. And so the deities of Alsace and Dacia and\nLusitania, of the Sahara and Cumberland, easily took their place in his\ngrowing pantheon.(2493) They were constantly identified with the great\nfigures of Greek or Roman mythology. Many an inscription is dedicated to\nApollo Grannus of Alsace, whom Caracalla invoked for the recovery of his\nhealth, along with Serapis and Aesculapius.(2494) Apollo Belenus, a\nfavourite deity in Southern Gaul, was the special patron of\nAquileia.(2495) Batucardus and Cocideus received vows and dedications in\nCumberland and Westmorland, Arardus and Agho in the Pyrenees, Abnoba in\nthe Black Forest;(2496) and many another deity with strange, outlandish\nname, like their provincial votaries, were honoured with sacred Roman\ncitizenship, and took their places, although in a lower grade, with\nSerapis of Alexandria or Asclepius of Epidaurus. The local heroes were\nalso adored at wayside shrines or altars, which met the traveller in\nlonely passes. In the heart of the Nubian desert, inscriptions, scratched\non obelisk or temple porch, attest the all-embracing faith of the Roman\nlegionary.(2497) At Carlsbourg in Transylvania, a legate of the 5th Legion\nrecords his own gratitude to Aesculapius and all the gods and goddesses of\nthe place, and that of his wife and daughter, for the recovery of his\nsight.(2498) A praetorian prefect, visiting the hot springs of Vif left a\ngraceful inscription to the gods of the eternal fire.(2499) A legate of\nthe 5th Legion returns pious thanks to Hercules and the _genius loci_, at\nthe baths in Dacia sacred to the hero.(2500) Many a slab pays honour to\nthe nymphs who guarded the secret spring, especially where a source, long\nsince forgotten, had resumed its flow.(2501) A chief magistrate of Lambesi\nis specially grateful that the town has been refreshed by a new fountain\nduring his year of office.(2502) The heroes of poetic legend were still\nbelieved to haunt the scene of their struggles. Apollonius once spent a\nnight in ghostly converse with the shade of Achilles beside his tomb in\nthe Troad, and was charged by the divine warrior to convey his reproaches\nfor the neglect of his worship in the old Thessalian home of the\nMyrmidons.(2503) The Troad had a hero of much later date, the proconsul\nNeryllinus, who was believed to deliver oracles and to heal the\nsick.(2504)\n\nIn a time of such vivid belief in the universal presence of divine beings,\nfaith in miracle was a matter of course. Christian and pagan were here at\nleast on common ground. Nay, the Christian apologists did not dispute the\npossibility of pagan miracles, or even of pagan oracular inspiration. It\nis curious to see that Origen and Celsus, as regards the probability of\nrecurring miracle, are on very much the same plane of spiritual belief,\nand that the Christian apologist is fighting with one arm tied. He is\ndisabled from delivering his assaults at the heart of the enemy\u2019s\nposition. The gods of heathenism are still to him living and potent\nspirits, although they are spirits of evil.(2505) The pagan daemonology,\non its worse side, had been accepted by the champion of the Church. Yet it\nis hard to see how, on such principles, he could deal with the daemon of\nthe Apolline shrine at Delphi, when he denounced the Spartan Glaucus for\nthe mere thought of a breach of faith to his friend,(2506) or the daemon\nwho lurked under the pure stately form of Athene Polissouchos, when she\nthrew a maiden goddess\u2019s protection around the Antigones of Athens. In the\nfield of miracle in the second century the heathen could easily match the\nChristian. With gods in every grove and fountain, and on every mountain\nsummit; with gods breathing in the winds and flashing in the lightning, or\nthe ray of sun and star, heaving in the earthquake or the November storm\nin the Aegean, watching over every society of men congregated for any\npurpose, guarding the solitary hunter or traveller in the Alps or the\nSahara, what is called miracle became as natural to the heathen as the\nrising of the sun. In fact, if the gods had not displayed their power in\nsome startling way, their worshippers would have been shocked and forlorn.\nBut the gods did not fail their votaries. Unquestioning and imperious\nfaith in this kind is always rewarded, or can always explain its\ndisappointments. The Epicurean, the Cynic, or the Aristotelian, might pour\ntheir cold scorn on tales of wonder. An _illumin\u00e9_ like Lucian, attached\nto no school, and living merely in the light of clear cultivated sense,\nmight shake his sides with laughter at the tales which were vouched for by\na spiritualist philosophy. But the drift of the time was against all such\nprotests. The Divine power was everywhere, and miracle was in the air.\n\nEnough has been said of the dreams and signs and omens which in the first\nand second century heralded every accession to the throne and every death\nof a prince, and which even Tacitus records with more or less vacillating\nfaith. Enough, too, has been said of the miracles of healing which were\nwrought by the sons of Asclepius in his many shrines from Pergamum to the\nisland in the Tiber. The miracles wrought by Vespasian at Alexandria are\nthe most hackneyed example of belief in miracle, because the tale is told\nby the greatest master of vivid narrative in a book which every educated\nman has read. The sensible Vespasian was not confident of his power to\ngive energy to the impotent, even on the strength of a dream sent by\nSerapis, just as he jested on his deathbed about his approaching\napotheosis. But the efficiency of the imperial touch was vouched for by\neye-witnesses, to whom Tacitus would not refuse his credence. The\nchronicler of the age of Diocletian has surrounded the death-bed of\nHadrian with similar wonders. A blind man from Pannonia came and touched\nthe fever-wracked emperor, and immediately regained his sight. The legend\nof the Thundering Legion was long the battle-ground of opposing faiths\nequally credulous, and equally bent on securing the credit of supernatural\npowers. The timely rainfall was attributed with equal assurance to the\nincantations of an Egyptian sorcerer, to the prayers of the believers in\nJupiter, or the prayers of the believers in Christ. Apuleius, who was\nhimself prosecuted for practising the black art, has filled his Thessalian\nromance with the most astounding tales of fantastic sorcery. He may have\ncopied other lawless romances, but he would hardly have given such space\nto these weird arts if his public had not had an uneasy belief in them.\nThe home of Medea in the days of M. Aurelius was a veritable witch\u2019s cave:\nthe air is tremulous with superstitious fear: everything seems possible in\nthe field of miraculous metamorphosis or monstrous vice. If Apuleius had\nmeant to discredit superstition by wedding it to disgusting sensuality, he\ncould hardly have succeeded better. But he was more probably bent, with\nperverted skill, on producing a work which might allure imaginations\nhaunted by the ghosts of hereditary sensuality and a spiritual terror\nrevived in redoubled force. An Egyptian priest with tonsure and linen\nrobes raises a dead man to life who has been \u201cfloating on the Stygian\nstreams.\u201d Or you are admitted to a witch\u2019s laboratory, open to all the\nwinds and stored with all the wreckage of human life\u2014timbers of ships\nsplintered on cruel rocks, the curdled blood and mangled flesh of murdered\nmen, toothless skulls gnawed by beasts of prey. You see the transformation\ngoing on before your eyes under the magic of mysterious unguents, the\nfeathers springing from the flesh, or the human sinking into the ass\u2019s\nform. Tales like these, which to us are old wives\u2019 tales, may have had a\nstrange charm for an age when human life was regarded as the slave of\nfate, or the sport of the inscrutable powers of the unseen universe.\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAPTER II\n\n\n                          BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY\n\n\nA great part of the charm of those oriental religions, on the study of\nwhich we are about to enter, lay in the assurance which they seemed to\ngive of an immortal life. It would, therefore, appear a necessary preface\nto such a review to examine some of the conceptions of the state of the\ndeparted which the missionaries of Isis and Mithra found prevalent in the\nminds of their future votaries. Immortality, in any worthy sense, is\ninseparable from the idea of God. And the conception of continued life\nmust always be shaped by the character of a people\u2019s beliefs as to the\npowers of the unseen world. A pantheon of dim phantasms or abstractions\nwill not promise more than a numb spectral future to the human shade. The\nnectar and ambrosia of Olympian feasts may have their human counterpart in\nan \u201ceternal debauch.\u201d The Platonist will find his eternal hope in\nemancipation from the prison of the flesh, and in the immediate vision of\nthat Unity of all beauty, truth, and goodness, which is his highest\nconception of God. But not only does religion necessarily colour the\nconception of the eternal state: it may also furnish the warrant for a\nbelief in it. And a religion which can give men a firm ground for that\nfaith will have an immense advantage over others which are less clear and\nconfident as to another world. It is generally admitted that the long\narray of philosophic arguments for immortality have by themselves little\nconvincing power. They are not stronger, nor perhaps so strong as the\nargument from the wish for continued life, inveterate in the human spirit,\non which Plutarch laid so much stress.(2507) Even amid the triumphant\ndialectic of the _Phaedo_, an undertone of doubt in any human proof of\nimmortality is sometimes heard, along with the call for some \u201cdivine\ndoctrine\u201d as a bark of safety on perilous seas.(2508) The inextinguishable\ninstinct of humanity craves for a voice of revelation to solve the mystery\nof life and death.\n\nThe Roman spirit, down to the Antonine age, had been the subject of many\ninfluences which had inspired widely various ideas of the future state.\nAnd the literary and funerary remains from Nero to M. Aurelius are full of\ncontradictions on the subject. Nor, in the absence of authoritative\nrevelation on a field so dark to reason, is this surprising. Even\nChristian teaching, while it offers a sure promise of a life to come, has\nnot lifted the veil of the great mystery, and the material imagery of the\nApocalypse, or the shadowed hints of Jesus or S. Paul, have left the\nbeliever of the twentieth century with no clearer vision of the life\nbeyond the tomb than that which was vouchsafed to Plato, Cicero, Virgil,\nor Plutarch. \u201cWe know not what we shall be,\u201d is the answer of every seer\nof every age. Something will always \u201cseal the lips of the Evangelist,\u201d as\nthe key of the Eumolpidae closed the lips of those who had seen the vision\nof Eleusis.(2509) The pagans of the early Empire were thus, in the absence\nof dogma and ecclesiastical teaching, free to express, with perfect\nfrankness, their unbelief or their varying conceptions of immortality,\naccording to the many influences that had moulded them. Nor could these\ninfluences be kept apart even in the same mind. Even the poet seer, who\nwas to be the guide of Dante in the shades, has failed to blend the\nimmemorial faith of the Latin race with the dreams of future beatitude or\nanguish which came to him from Pythagorean or Platonic teaching.(2510) In\nthe sixth book of the _Aeneid_ the eschatologies of old Rome and Greece\nare combined, but not blended, with the doctrines of transmigration and\npurgatorial expiation descending from Pythagoras or the Orphic mystics.\nVirgil, in fact, mirrors the confusion of beliefs which prevailed in his\nown age, and which pre-eminently characterised the age of the Antonines.\n\nAlong with other archaic elements of the Latin faith, the cult of the\nManes held its ground, especially in secluded homes of old Italian piety.\nThe most ancient Indo-European conception of the state after death was\nthat of a continuance or faint, shadowy reproduction of the life on earth;\nit was not that of a vast and mysterious change to a supernatural order.\nThe departed spirit was believed to linger in a dim existence in the vault\nor grave near the familiar homestead.(2511) The tomb is not a temporary\nprison, but an everlasting home,(2512) and often provides a chamber where\nthe living members of the family or clan may gather on solemn days around\nthe ashes of the dead.(2513) Provision is made for the sustenance of this\nspectral life. Vessels for food and drink, the warrior\u2019s arms, the\nworkman\u2019s tools, the cosmetics of the lady, the child\u2019s playthings, are\nburied with them.(2514) Or they are figured on their tombs cheerfully\nengaged in their familiar crafts,(2515) not with folded hands, and calm,\nexpectant faces, like the marble forms which lie in our cathedral aisles\nawaiting the Resurrection.\n\nWith such views of the tomb, the perpetual guardianship of it became to\nthe Roman a matter of supreme moment. It is a chapel or an altar, as well\nas a last home.(2516) It is the meeting-place, in faint ghostly communion,\nof the society which embraced, by its solemn rites, the members of the\nhousehold church in the light or in the shades. All the cautious forms of\nRoman law are invoked to keep the sepulchre, with its garden and\nenclosure, from passing into alien hands. Its site is exactly described,\nwith the minutest measurements, and the intruder or the alienator is\nthreatened with curses or with fines, to be paid into the public\ntreasury.(2517) Here, among his children and remotest descendants, among\nhis freedmen and freedwomen, the Roman dreamed of resting for ever\nundisturbed.(2518) And many an appeal comes to us from the original slab\nnot to violate the eternal peace.(2519) What that dim life beneath the\nmarble or the sod, at least in the later times, was conceived to be, how\nfar it involved a more or less vivid consciousness of what was passing in\nthe world above, how far it was a numb repose, almost passing into \u201cthe\neternal sleep,\u201d seems to be uncertain. The phrases on the tomb in all ages\nare apt to pass into conventional forms, and personal temperament and\nimagination must always give varying colour to the picture. Such phrases\nas \u201ceternal sleep,\u201d however, did not probably at any time imply complete\nunconsciousness. The old Latin faith that the Manes had a real life and\nsome link of sympathy with the living was still strong and vivid in an age\nwhich was eager to receive or answer voices from the world beyond the\nsenses. The wish to maintain, in spite of the severance and shock of\ndeath, a bond of communion between the living and the departed was one of\nthe most imperious instincts of the Latin race. It was not a mere\nimagination, projected on far distant years, which craved for the yearly\noffering of violets and roses, or the pious _ave_ of the passing\ntraveller.(2520) The dwellers in the vault still remained members of the\nfamily, to which they are linked for ever by a dim sympathy expressed in\nritual communion. Every year, on the _dies parentales_ in February, there\nwas a general holiday, cheerfully kept in honour of all those whose\nspirits were at peace.(2521) On the eighth day, the festival of _cara\ncognatio_, there was a family love-feast, in which quarrels were\nforgotten, and the members in the spirit-world joined in the sacred meal.\nBut besides this public and national commemoration, the birthday of each\ndeparted member was observed with offerings of wine and oil and milk. The\ntomb was visited in solemn procession; dead and living shared the sacred\nfare; flowers were scattered, and with an _ave_ or a prayer for help and\ngood fortune, the shade was left to its renewed repose.(2522) Many a slab\nmakes anxious provision for these communions, and the offering of violets\nand roses in their season.(2523)\n\nBut the Roman in his tomb longed to be near the sound of busy human life,\nand to feel the tread of pious feet, which might turn aside for a moment\nto salute even a stranger\u2019s memory. This feeling is expressed in the long\nrows of vaults which line so many of the great roads, the Via Appia, or\nthe way from Pompeii to Nola.(2524) There were many like that Titus\nLollius who had himself laid close to the road into Aquae Sextiae, that\nthe passers might for ever greet his spirit with an _ave_.(2525) Others\nleave a prayer for all good things to those who will stop an instant and\nread the legend; \u201cmay the earth lie light upon them when they too\ndepart.\u201d(2526) The horror of the lonely soul, cut off from the kindly\nfellowship of the living, and lingering on in a forgotten grave, to which\nno loving hand should ever more bring the libation or the violets in\nspring, which should one day awake no memory or sympathy in any human\nheart, was to the old Roman the worst terror in death. This passion for\ncontinued memory, especially in great benefactors of their kind, is used\nby Cicero as an argument for immortality,(2527) and the passion for\nenduring life blends indistinguishably with the wish to be long\nremembered. Even Epicurus, the apostle of annihilation, made provision in\nhis last testament for yearly offerings in honour of himself and\nMetrodorus his disciple\u2014a curious instance of agnostic conformity.(2528)\nThe passion for remembrance was responded to by the dutiful devotion of\nmany generations. The cult of the dead long survived in the cult of\nmartyrs, and the pagan feasting at their tombs disturbed and perplexed S.\nAugustine and S. Paulinus of Nola.(2529)\n\nThe old Roman thought of his departed friends as a company of good and\nkindly spirits, who watched over the family on earth. But there was\nanother conception of spirits in the other world, whether derived from the\ngloomy superstition of Etruria, or descending from days anterior to\norderly devotion to the dead.(2530) The Lemures were a name of fear. They\nwere dark, malevolent spirits who craved for blood, as they had departed\nthis life by a violent end. Their festival, the Lemuria in May, was quite\ndistinct from the festival of the Manes, and the household ritual for\nlaying the ghosts by the spitting of black beans and a ninefold form of\nexorcism savours of a far-gone age. These maleficent powers were\npropitiated by blood\u2014especially by the blood of men in the combats of the\narena.\n\nThe visitations of these beings, whether as guardian, ministering spirits\nor as evil powers, were expected and believed in for many ages by all\nclasses of Roman minds. The ancient Latin faith as to the state of the\ndead was, according to Cicero, confirmed by many tales of spiritual\napparition. There are pathetic memorials which end with an appeal in which\nthe lonely wife entreats the lost one sometimes to return in dream or\nvision.(2531) One vivacious inscription challenges the sceptic to lay his\nwager and make the experiment of a summons from the unseen world.(2532)\nThe spread of cremation instead of burial gradually led to a new\nconception of the spirit as having a separate existence from the body, now\nreduced to a handful of grey ashes.(2533) And spirits no longer clung to\nthe body in the family vault, but were gathered in a dim region near the\ncentre of the earth, where, according to gloomy Etrurian fancy, they were\nunder the cruel care of the conductor of the dead, a brutal figure, with\nwings and long, matted beard, and armed with a hammer, who for ages\nappeared in human form to close the last ghastly scene in the gladiatorial\ncombats.(2534) From this limbo of the departed a sort of gateway was\nprovided in every Latin town in the _Mundus_, a deep trench intended to\nrepresent an inverted heaven, which was dug before the _pomoerium_ was\ntraced. Its lower aperture was closed by the stone of the Manes, which on\nthree solemn days, in August, October, and November, was lifted to permit\nthe spirits from the deep to pass for a time into the upper world. Thus a\npublic sanction was given to the belief in the commerce between this life\nand the next.(2535)\n\nCicero had said that the faith in immortality was sustained by the fact of\nspirits returning to the world of sense. In the first and second centuries\nthere was no lack of such aids to faith. Apparitions became the commonest\nfacts of life, and only the hardiest minds remained incredulous about\nthem. Philosophers of all schools, except the Epicurean, were swept into\nthe current. The _Philopseudes_ of Lucian is a brilliant effort to\nridicule the superstition of the age, but the attack would have been\ndiscredited if it had not had a foundation of fact. There, around the\nsick-bed of Eucrates, himself saturated with philosophy, are gathered a\nStoic, a Peripatetic, a Pythagorean, a Platonist, and a trained\nphysician.(2536) And they regale one another with the most weird and\nexciting tales of the marvellous. Ion, the Platonic student, has seen the\nexorcism of a black and smoky daemon.(2537) Eucrates has seen such spirits\na thousand times, and, from long habit, has lost all fear of them. At\nvintage time, he once saw a gigantic Gorgon figure in the woods in broad\ndaylight, and by the turning of a magic ring had revealed to him the gulf\nof Tartarus, the infernal rivers, and been even able to recognise some of\nthe ghosts below.(2538) On another day, as he lay upon his bed reading the\n_Phaedo_, his \u201csainted wife,\u201d who had recently died, appeared and\nreproached him because, among all the finery which had been burnt upon her\npyre, a single gold-spangled shoe, which slipped under the wardrobe, had\nbeen forgotten.(2539) Plutarch reports, apparently with perfect faith, the\nappearance of such spectral visitors at Chaeronea.(2540) The younger Pliny\nconsulted his friend Sura as to the reality of such apparitions, and\nreveals his faith in the gruesome tale of a haunted house at Athens, where\na restless ghost, who had often disturbed the quiet of night with the\nclank of chains, was tracked to the mystery of a hidden grave.(2541)\nSuetonius, of course, welcomes tales of this kind from every quarter.\nBefore Caligula\u2019s half-burnt remains were borne stealthily to a\ndishonoured burial, the keepers of the Lamian Gardens had been disturbed\neach night by ghostly terrors.(2542) The pages of Dion Cassius abound in\nsimilar wonders. When Nero attempted to cut through the Isthmus of\nCorinth, the dead arose in numbers from their graves.(2543) In such an age\nthe baleful art of \u201cevocation\u201d acquired a weird attraction and importance.\nBy spells and incantations Hecate was invoked to send up spirits, often\nfor evil ends.(2544) And there were dark rumours of the spell being\nfortified by the blood of children. Many of the emperors from Tiberius to\nCaracalla had dabbled in this witchcraft.(2545) When Nero was haunted by\nthe Furies of his murdered mother, he is said to have offered a magic\nsacrifice to evoke and appease her spirit.(2546) The early Neo-Platonists\nwere, of course, eager to admit the reality of such visits from the unseen\nworld. In anxious quest of any link of sympathy between this world and the\nnext, Maximus tries to fortify his doctrine of daemons by stories of\napparitions.(2547) Hector has been often seen darting across the Troad in\nshining armour. At the mouth of the Borysthenes, Achilles has been espied\nby mariners, who were sailing past his isle, careering along with his\nyellow locks and arms of gold, and singing his paean of battle.\n\nIn enlarging its rather blank and poor conception of the future state, the\nLatin race, as in other fields, was content to borrow rather than invent.\nThe Sixth Book of the Aeneid was an effort not only to glorify the\nlegendary heroes of Rome, but to appease a new or revived longing for the\nhope of immortality, after the desolating nihilism of the Epicurean\nphilosophy had run its course.(2548) Virgil has some touches of old Roman\nfaith about the dead, but the scenery of his Inferno is mainly derived\nfrom Greek poetry inspired by Orphism, and the vision is moralised, and\nalso confused, by elements drawn from Pythagoras or Plato.(2549) The scene\nof Aeneas\u2019s descent to the underworld is laid by the lake of Avernus,\nwhere, buried amid gloomy woods, was the cave of the Cumaean Sibyl. Cumae\nwas the oldest Greek colony in the West. Its foundation was placed long\nbefore the days of Romulus. Rich, prosperous, and cultivated, at a time\nwhen the Romans were a band of rude warriors, it must have early\ntransmitted Greek ideas of religion to the rising power on the\nTiber.(2550) The Etrurians also, who affected so profoundly the tone of\nRoman religion, had come under Greek influences. The spectral ferryman of\nthe dead was a familiar figure in Etruscan art. Thus, both on the south\nand north, Latium had points of contact with the world of Hellenic legend.\nAnd from the early days of the Republic, the worship of Greek gods\u2014Apollo,\nAsclepius, or the Dioscuri\u2014became naturalised at Rome. Probably of even\nearlier date was the influence of the oracular lore of Greece through\nDelphi and the oracle of Cumae.(2551)\n\nOn the threshold of the underworld Aeneas and the Sibyl are confronted by\nthe monstrous forms of Hellenic legend\u2014Centaurs and Scyllas, Harpies and\nGorgons, the fire-armed Chimaera, and the hissing hydra of Lerna.(2552)\nThey have to pass the ninefold barrier of the Styx in Charon\u2019s steel-grey\nbark. The grisly ferryman of the infernal stream, foul and unkempt, with\nfixed eyes of flame, is surrounded by a motley crowd, thick as autumnal\nleaves, all straining and eager for the further shore. Landed on a waste\nexpanse of mud and sedge,(2553) they pass the kennel of triple-headed\nCerberus, and on to the judgment seat, where Minos assigns to each soul\nits several doom, according to the deeds done in the body. Thence they\ntraverse the \u201cmourning fields,\u201d(2554) where are those sad queens of\nGrecian tragedy whose wild loves have been their undoing, and among them\nPhoenician Dido, who, with stony silence and averted gaze, plunges into\nthe darkness of the wood.(2555) As the dawn is breaking, they find\nthemselves before the prison-house of the damned, rising amid the folds of\nthe river of fire, with walls of iron and adamant, its portals watched by\na sleepless Fury in blood-red robe.(2556) From within are heard the cries\nof anguish and the clank of chains, as the great rebels and malefactors of\nold-world story\u2014Ixion, Salmoneus, and the Titans\u2014are tortured by lash and\nwheel and vulture.(2557) And with them, sharing the same agony, are those\nwho have violated the great laws on which the Roman character was\nbuilt.(2558) Through other dusky ways and Cyclopean portals they at last\nreach the home of the blessed, as it was pictured long before in the\napocalypse of Pindar\u2014the meads and happy groves of Elysium, under another\nsun and other stars than ours, and bathed in the splendour of an ampler\nair.(2559) Here is the eternal home of the heroic souls of a nobler age,\nmen who have died for fatherland, holy priests and bards and founders of\nthe arts which soften and embellish the life of men. But though their home\nis radiant with a splendour not of earth, they are, in old Roman and Greek\nfashion, occupied with the toils or pleasures of their earthly life.\nYouthful forms are straining their sinews in the wrestling-ground as of\nold. The ancient warriors of Troy have their shadowy chariots beside them,\ntheir lances planted in the sward, their chargers grazing in the meadow.\nOthers are singing old lays or dancing, and the bard of Thrace himself is\nsweeping the lyre, as in the days when he sped the Argo through the\n\u201cClashing Rocks\u201d in the quest of the fleece of gold.(2560)\n\nThe vision closes with a scene which criticism has long recognised as\nirreconcilable with the eschatology of Greek legend hitherto followed by\nthe poet, but which is drawn from a philosophy destined to govern men\u2019s\nthoughts of immortality for many ages. In a wooded vale, far withdrawn,\nthrough which Lethe glided peacefully, countless multitudes are gathered\ndrinking the \u201cwater of carelessness and oblivion.\u201d These are they, as\nAnchises expounds to his son, who, having passed the thousand purgatorial\nyears, to cleanse away the stains of flesh in a former life, and, having\neffaced the memory of it, now await the call of Destiny to a new life on\nearth.(2561) This theory of life and death, coming down from Pythagoras,\nand popularised by Platonism, with some Stoic elements, had gained immense\nvogue among educated men of the last period of the Republic. Varro had\nadopted it as a fundamental tenet of his theology, and Cicero had embalmed\nit in his dream of Scipio, which furnished a text for Neo-Platonist\nhomilies in the last days of the Western Empire.(2562) A fiery spirit\nanimates the material universe, from the farthest star in ether down to\nthe lowest form of animal life. The souls of men are sparks or emanations\nfrom this general soul which have descended into the prison of the body,\nand during the period of their bondage have suffered contamination.(2563)\nAnd the prison walls hide from their eyes for a time the heaven from which\nthey come. Nor when death releases them do they shake off the engrained\ncorruption. For a thousand years they must suffer cleansing by punishment\ntill the stains are washed away, the deeply festering taint burnt out as\nby fire. Then only may the pure residue of ethereal spirit seek to enter\non another life on earth.\n\nVirgil, in his Nekuia, mirrored the confusion of beliefs as to the future\nstate prevailing in his time. For his poetic sensibility, the old Roman\nfaith of the Manes, the Greek legends of Tartarus and Elysium, the\nPythagorean or Orphic doctrine of successive lives and purgatorial\natonement, had each their charm, and a certain truth. On a subject so dim\nand uncertain as the future life, the keenest minds may have wavering\nconceptions, and in different moods may clothe them in various guise. This\nis the field of the protean poetic imagination inspired by religious\nintuition, not of the rigorous dogmatist. But a great poet like Virgil not\nonly expresses an age to itself: he elevates and glorifies what he\nexpresses. He gives clear-cut form to what is vague, he spreads the warmth\nand richness of colour over what is dim and blank, and he imparts to the\nabstract teaching of philosophy a glow and penetrating power which may\ntouch even the unthinking mass of men. The vision of the Sixth Book,\nmoreover, like the Aeneid as a whole, has a high note of patriotism.\nBeside the water of Lethe are gathered, waiting for their call to earthly\nlife, all the great souls from the Alban Silvius to the great Julius, all\nthe Scipios, Gracchi, Decii, and Fabricii, who were destined through storm\nand stress to give the world the calm of the Roman peace.(2564) The poet\nof Roman destiny had a marvellous fame among his countrymen. Men rose up\nto do him honour when he entered the theatre; the street boys of Pompeii\nscratched his verses on the walls.(2565) Can we doubt that the grandest\npart of his great poem, which lifts for a moment the veil of the unseen\nworld, had a profound effect on the religious imagination of the future?\n\nThe opinion long prevailed that the period of the early Empire was one of\nunbelief or scepticism as to the future life. The opinion was founded on\nliterary evidence accepted without much critical care. Cicero and Seneca,\nJuvenal and Plutarch,(2566) had spoken of the Inferno of Greek legend, its\nCerberus and Chimaera, its gloom of Tartarus, as mere old wives\u2019 fables,\nin which even children had ceased to believe. But such testimony should\nalways be taken with a good deal of reserve. The member of a comparatively\nsmall literary and thoughtful circle is apt to imagine that its ideas are\nmore widely diffused than they really are. It may well have been that\nthoughtful men, steeped in Platonic or Pythagorean faith as to the coming\nlife, rejected as anthropomorphic dreams the infernal scenery of Greek\nlegend, just as a thoughtful Christian of our day will hardly picture his\ncoming beatitude in the gorgeous colouring of the Book of Revelation. Yet\nthe mass of men will always seek for concrete imagery to body forth their\ndim spiritual cravings. They always live in that uncertain twilight in\nwhich the boundaries of pictured symbolism and spiritual reality are\nblurred and effaced. Lucian was a pessimist as to spiritual progress, and\nhe may have exaggerated the materialistic superstition of his time; he had\nample excuse for doing so. Yet, artist as he was, his art would have been\nfutile and discredited in his own time, if it had not had a solid\nbackground in widely accepted beliefs. And we cannot refuse to admit his\ntestimony that the visions of the grim ferryman over the waters of Styx,\nthe awful judge, the tortures of Tartarus, the asphodel meads, and the\nwater of Lethe, the pale neutral shades who wandered expectant of the\nlibation on the grave, filled a large space in the imagination of the\ncrowd.(2567) Plutarch, who sometimes agrees with Juvenal and Seneca as to\nthe general incredulity, at others holds that a large class of remorseful\nsinners have a wholesome fear of the legendary tortures of lost souls, and\nthat they are eager to purge their guilt before the awful ordeal of the\nEternal Judgment.(2568) And, however pure and etherealised his own views\nmay have been as to the life to come, no one has left a more lurid picture\nof the flames, the gloom, the sounds of excruciating anguish from the\nprison-house of the damned, which oppressed the imagination of the\nmultitude in his time. One part of that vision had a peculiarly tenacious\nhold.(2569) The belief in the gruff ferryman of the dead, who sternly\nexacted his fare, and drove from the banks of Styx those who had no right\nto cross the awful stream, was widely diffused and survived far into the\nmedieval times. For many centuries, long before and long after the coming\nof Christ, the coin which was to secure the passage of the shade into the\nworld below was placed in the mouth of the corpse.(2570)\n\nThe inscriptions might be supposed to give authoritative evidence as to\nthe belief of ordinary men about the future state. The funerary monuments\nfrom every part of the Roman world are almost countless for the period of\nthe early Empire. Yet such records, however abundant, are not so clear and\nsatisfactory as they are by some taken to be. The words of a tombstone are\nsometimes a sincere utterance of real affection and faith. They are also\nnot unfrequently purely conventional, representing a respectable, historic\ncreed, which may not be that of the man who erects the slab. Just as a\nFrenchman, who has never from infancy entered a church, may have his wife\ninterred with all the solemn forms with which the Catholic Church makes\nthe peace of the passing soul, so the Roman pagan may have often inscribed\non his family tomb words which expressed the ancient creed of his race\nrather than his personal belief. Heredity in religion is a potent\ninfluence, and may be misleading to the inquirer of a later age. An\nepitaph should not be construed as a confession of faith.\n\nThe great mass of these inscriptions are couched in the same phrases, with\nonly slight variations. The dedication Dis Manibus, representing the old\nRoman faith, is the heading of the majority of them. The vault is an\n\u201ceternal home,\u201d whose peace is guarded by prayers or threats and\nentreaties. There is a rare dedication to the \u201cashes\u201d of the dead. There\nare many to their \u201ceternal repose.\u201d(2571) But it is surely rather absurd\nto find in expressions which occur almost in the same form in the niches\nof the Catacombs a tinge of Epicureanism. The poor grammarian of Como, who\nleft all his substance to his town, may be permitted to enjoy \u201cthe calm\npeace\u201d he claims after all the troubles of his life, without a suspicion\nthat he meant the peace of nothingness.(2572) A pious Christian may\nrejoice at escaping the miseries of old age, and even hail death as the\nlast cure of all mortal ills.(2573) Death and sleep have always seemed\nnear akin, and when the Roman spoke of the sleep of death, he probably did\nnot often mean that it had no awaking. The morning indeed, as we have\nseen, to old imaginations was not very bright. \u201cThe day of eternity\u201d was\nnot irradiated with the golden splendour of Pindar\u2019s Happy Isles; it was\ngrey and sad and calm. But that it was felt to be a real existence is\nshown by the insistent demand on scores of monuments for the regular\nservice of the living. Every possible precaution is taken by the testator\nthat his family or his club shall maintain this sympathetic observance for\never.(2574) With the idea of prolonged existence, of course, is blended\nthe imaginative hope of having a continued memory among men. And probably\nthe majority of the funerary inscriptions express this feeling chiefly.\nBut the same is true of the monuments of every age, and warrants no\nconclusion as to the opinions about immortality held by those who raised\nthem. There is abundance of the purest affection expressed on these\nmemorials, and sometimes, although not very often, there is the hope of\nreunion after death. The wife of a _philologus_ at Narbonne confidently\nexpects to meet him, or a mother prays her son to take her to\nhimself.(2575) Such expressions of a natural feeling, the same from age to\nage, have really little value as indications of religious belief. But\nthere are not wanting in the inscriptions references to Tartarus and the\nElysian fields, to Pluto and Proserpine, to Orcus who has snatched away\nsome one in his bloom. \u201cOne little soul has been received among the number\nof the gods.\u201d(2576) There are others, impregnated with the prevalent\nphilosophy, which speak of the soul returning to its source, or of being\ndissolved into the infinite ether, or of passing to a distant home in the\nstars.(2577) This, however, as M. Boissier says,(2578) must have been the\ndream of a small minority. The funerary inscriptions leave the impression\nthat, down to the final triumph of the Church, the feeling of the Romans\nabout death was still in the main the feeling of their remote ancestors of\nthe Samnite and Punic wars. It was a social feeling, in the prospect of a\ndim life dependent on the memory of the living, a horror of loneliness and\ndesertion, the longing for a passing prayer even from a stranger.\nBlessings are heaped on him who will not forget the pious duty to the\nshade. On him who refuses it is invoked the bitterest curse to Roman\nimagination\u2014\u201cMay he die the last of his race.\u201d\n\nBut no dogmatic ecclesiastical system deterred the Roman from expressing\nfrankly his unbelief in any future state. And the rejection of all hope\nfor the future, sometimes coupled with a coarse satisfaction with a\nsensual past, is the note of not a few epitaphs of this period. Matrinia,\nthe wife of one C. Matrinius Valentius, an Epicurean philosopher,\ndedicates a tablet to his \u201ceternal sleep,\u201d which in this case is no\nconventional phrase.(2579) And others, in even more decided language,\nparade their withering faith that this brief life is only a moment of\nconsciousness between the blank of the past and the blank of the future,\nand record their indifference at passing again into the nothingness from\nwhich they came. The formula is frequent\u2014\u201cNon fueram, non sum, nescio\u201d; or\n\u201cNon fui, fui; non sum, non curo.\u201d Another adds \u201cnon mihi dolet.\u201d(2580)\nThe subjects of some of these epitaphs seem to have obeyed literally the\ncounsel of their master Lucretius, though in a sense different from his,\nand to have risen up sated with the banquet of life. They express, with\ncynical grossness, their only faith in the joys of the flesh, and their\nperfect content at having made the most of them. \u201cBalnea, Vina, Venus,\u201d\nsums up the tale.(2581) \u201cWhat I have eaten, what I have drunk, is my own.\nI have had my life.\u201d(2582) And the departing voluptuary exhorts his\nfriends to follow his example: \u201cMy friends, while we live, let us live\u201d;\n\u201cEat, drink, disport thyself, and then join us.\u201d(2583) A veteran of the\nfifth legion records, probably with much truth, that \u201cwhile he lived he\ndrank with a good will,\u201d(2584) and he exhorts his surviving friends to\ndrink while they live. Under the confessional of St. Peter\u2019s at Rome, in\nthe year 1626, was found a monument of one Agricola of Tibur and his wife.\nThere was a figure holding a wine-cup, and an inscription so frankly\nsensual that the whole was destroyed by order of the Pope. From the copy\nwhich was kept, it appears that Agricola was perfectly satisfied with his\nlife, and recommended his example to others, \u201csince it all ends in the\ngrave or the funeral fire.\u201d(2585) But inscriptions such as these are the\nexception. The funerary records, as a whole, give a picture of a society\nvery like our own, with warm affections of kindred or friendship, clinging\nto ancestral pieties, ready to hope, if sometimes not clear and confident\nin faith.\n\nThere was probably a much more settled faith in immortality among the\nordinary masses than among the highly educated. The philosophy of Greece\ncame to the cultivated Roman world with many different voices on the\ngreatest problem of human destiny. And the greatest minds, from Cicero to\nM. Aurelius, reflect the discordance of philosophy. Nay, some of those\nwho, in more exalted moods, have left glowing pictures of the future\nbeatitude, have also at times revealed a mood of melancholy doubt as to\nany conscious future life. The prevailing philosophy in the last\ngeneration of the Republic, demoralised by an internecine strife, was that\nof Epicurus.(2586) It harmonised with the decay of old Roman religion, and\nwith the more disastrous moral deterioration in the upper cultivated\nclass. The cultivated patrician, enervated by vice and luxury, or\nintoxicated with the excitement of civil war and the dreams of disordered\nambition, flung off all spiritual idealism, and accepted frankly a lawless\nuniverse and a life of pleasure or power, to be ended by death. The great\npoem of Lucretius, the greatest _tour de force_ in Latin, if not in any\nliterature, braving not only the deepest beliefs of the Latin race, but\nthe instinctive longings of humanity, was a herculean attempt to relieve\nmen from the horrors of Graeco-Etruscan superstition. Even the gay\nfrivolity of the comic stage reveals the terror which the path to Acheron\ninspired in the thoughtless crowd(2587)\u2014the terror from which, with all\nthe fervid zeal of an evangelist, Lucretius sought to relieve his\ncountrymen.(2588) The pictures of Tartarus had burnt themselves into the\npopular imagination. And no message of Epicurus seems to his Roman\ninterpreter so full of peace and blessing as the gospel of nothingness\nafter death, the \u201cmorningless and unawakening sleep\u201d which ends the\nfretful fever of life. As we felt no trouble when the storm of Punic\ninvasion burst on Italy, we shall be equally unconscious when the\npartnership of soul and body is dissolved, even in the clash and fusion of\nall the elements in some great cosmic change.(2589) The older Stoicism\npermitted the hope of a limited immortality until the next great\ncataclysm, in which, after many ages, all things will be swallowed\nup.(2590) But Chrysippus admitted this prolonged existence only for the\ngreater souls. And Panaetius, in the second century B.C., among other\naberrations from the old creed of his school, abandoned even this not very\nsatisfactory hope of immortality.(2591) Aristotle, while he held the\npermanence of the pure thinking principle after death, had given little\ncountenance to the hope of a separate conscious personality. And the later\nPeripatetics, like Alexander Aphrodisias, had gone farther even than their\nmaster in dogmatic denial of immortality.(2592) Whatever support the\ninstinctive craving of humanity for prolonged existence could obtain from\nphilosophy was offered by the Platonic and Neo-Pythagorean schools. And\ntheir influence grew with the growing tendency to a revival of faith in\nthe supernatural. For Plato, with his intense belief in the divine\naffinity of the human spirit, must always be the great leader of those who\nseek in philosophy an interpreter and a champion of religious intuition.\nThe Phaedo was the last consolation of many a victim of conscription or\nimperial tyranny. Its fine-spun arguments may not have been altogether\nconvincing, as they hardly seem to be even to the Platonic Socrates. But\nPlato was not merely a dialectician, he was also a seer and a poet. And,\non a subject so dim as immortality, where mere intellectual proof, it is\ngenerally recognised, can be no more than tentative and precarious, men\nwith a deep spiritual instinct have always felt the magnetism of the poet\nwho could clothe his intuitions in the forms of imagination, who, from a\nkeener sensibility and a larger vision, could give authority and clearness\nto the spiritual intuitions of the race.(2593) The philosophy of the Porch\ngave to the Antonine age some of its loftiest characters. But it was not\nthe philosophy of the future. It was too cold, and too self-centred. It\nhad too little warmth of sympathy with religious instincts which were\nbecoming more and more imperious. Although, as we have seen in Seneca, it\nwas softened by elements borrowed from Platonic sources, in Epictetus and\nM. Aurelius, in spite of a rare spiritual elevation, it displays the old\naloofness from the mass of men, and a cold temperance of reserve on the\ngreat question of the future of the soul.\n\nThere can be little doubt that in the last age of the Republic a negative\nphilosophy conspired with a decaying religious sense to stifle the hope of\nimmortality among the cultivated class. Lucretius was certainly not a\nsolitary member of his order. His great poem, by its combination of\ndialectic subtlety, poetic charm, and lofty moral earnestness, may have\nmade many converts to its withering creed. In the debate on the fate of\nthe Catilinarian conspirators, Julius Caesar could assert, without fear of\ncontradiction or disapproval, that death was the final term alike of joy\nand sorrow in human life.(2594) This philosophy, indeed, was waning in\nforce in the time of Augustus, and its forces were spent before the close\nof the first century. Yet the elder Pliny, who saw the reign of Vespasian,\ninveighs almost fiercely against the vanity or madness which dreams of a\nphantom life beyond the tomb, and robs of its great charm the last kindly\nboon of nature.(2595) Seneca on this, as on many other questions of high\nmoment, is not steady and consistent. In moments of spiritual exaltation\nhe is filled with apocalyptic rapture at the vision of an eternal world.\nAt other times he speaks with a cold resignation, which seems to have been\nthe fashion with men of his class and time, at the possibility of\nextinction in death. To the toil-worn spirit, weary of the travail and\ndisappointments of life, death will be a quiet haven of rest.(2596) The\nold terrors of Charon and Cerberus, of the awful Judge and the tortures of\nTartarus, are no longer believed in even by children.(2597) And stripped\nof its mythic horrors, death, being the loss of consciousness, must be the\nnegation of pain and desire and fear. It is, in fact, a return to the\nnothingness from which we come, which has left no memory. _Non miser\npotest esse qui nullus est._(2598) The literary men and men of the world\nin the age of the Flavians, like their successors ever since, probably\noccupied themselves little with a problem so long debated and so variously\nsolved. Quintilian treats the question of the existence of the disembodied\nspirit as an open one for dialectical debate.(2599) Tacitus, at once\ncredulous and sceptical, is no clearer on the subject of immortality than\nhe is on the subject of miracles, or omens, or Providence. In his eulogy\non Agricola he expresses a faint, pious hope of eternal peace for his\nhero, if there is a place in some other world for pious shades, and the\nsages are right in thinking that great souls do not perish with the\nbody.(2600) This is a very guarded and hypothetical hope; and, probably,\nthe only immortality for his friend in which Tacitus had much confidence\nwas the undying fame with which the pen of genius can invest its subject.\nTacitus, like so many of his class, had the old Roman distrust of\nphilosophy, and the philosophies of which men of his generation had a\ntincture had no very confident or comforting message about the soul\u2019s\neternal destiny.\n\nHadrian, the most interesting of the emperors, was probably a sceptic on\nthis as on all kindred subjects. The greatest practical genius in the\nimperial line had, in the field of religion and speculation, an infinite\npassion for all that was curious and exotic.(2601) Tramping at the head of\nhis legions through his world-wide domains, he relieved the tedium of\npractical administration by visiting the scenes of historic fame or the\nhomes of ancient religion both in the East and West. The East particularly\nattracted him by its infinite fecundity of superstition. He came to see\nwhether there was anything in these revelations of the unseen world; he\nwent away to mock at them. His insatiable curiosity had an endless variety\nof moods, and offered an open door to all the influences from many creeds.\nThe restorer of ancient shrines, the admirer of Epictetus, the dabbler in\nastrology, the votary of Eleusis(2602) and all the mysteries of the East,\nthe munificent patron of all professors of philosophy and the arts, the\nman who delighted also to puzzle and ridicule them,(2603) had probably few\nsettled convictions of his own. His last words to his soul, in their\nmingled lightness and pathos, seem to express rather regret for the\nsunlight left behind than any hope in entering on a dim journey into the\nunknown.\n\nThe Antonine age was for the masses an age of growing faith, and yet three\nor four of its greatest minds, men who had drunk deep of philosophy, or\nwho had a rare spiritual vision, either denied or doubted the last hope of\nhumanity. Epictetus came from Phrygia as the slave of a freedman of\nNero.(2604) Even in his days of slavery, he had absorbed the teaching of\nMusonius.(2605) He received his freedom, but lived in poverty and physical\ninfirmity till, in the persecution of Domitian\u2019s reign he was, with the\nwhole tribe of philosophic preachers, driven from Rome,(2606) and he\nsettled at Nicopolis in Epirus, where Arrian heard his discourses on the\nhigher life. According to Hadrian\u2019s biographer, he lived in the greatest\nintimacy with that emperor.(2607) He refers more than once to the reign of\nTrajan,(2608) but it is hardly possible that the tradition is true which\ncarries his life into the reign of M. Aurelius, although the great\nphilosophic emperor owed much to his teaching.(2609)\n\nEpictetus is an example of a profoundly religious mind, to whom personal\nimmortality is not a necessity of his religion. The great law of life is\nglad submission to the will of God, to the universal order. Death, as an\nevent which is bound to come soon or late, should be regarded without\nfear. The tremors it excites are like the shuddering of children at a\ntragic mask of Gorgon or Fury. Turn the mask, and the terror is\ngone.(2610) For what is death? A separation of soul and body, a\ndissolution of our frame into the kindred elements.(2611) The door is\nopened, God calls you to come, and to no terrible future. Hades, Acheron,\nand Cocytus are mere childish fancies.(2612) You will pass into the wind\nor earth or fire from which you come. You will not exist, but you will be\nsomething else of which the world now has need, just as you came into your\npresent existence when the world had need of you. God sent you here\nsubject to death, to live on earth a little while in the flesh, to do His\nwill and serve His purpose, and join in the spectacle and festival. But\nthe spectacle for you is ended; go hence whither He leads, with adoration\nand gratitude for all that you have seen and heard. Make room for others\nwho have yet to be born in accordance with His will.(2613) Language like\nthis seems to give slight hope of any personal, conscious life beyond the\ngrave. Epictetus, like the pious Hebrew of many of the Psalms, seems to be\nsatisfied with the present vision of God, whether or not there be any\nfuller vision beyond the veil. Yet he elsewhere uses almost Platonic\nlanguage, which seems to imply that the soul has a separate life, that it\nis a prisoner for a time in the bonds of the flesh, and that it passes at\ndeath to the kindred source from which it sprang.(2614) Yet even here the\nhope of an individual immortality, of any future reproduction on a higher\nscale of the life on earth, need not be implied; it is indeed probably\nabsent. It is enough for the profoundly religious spirit of Epictetus that\nGod calls us; whither He calls us must be left to His will.\n\nGalen the physician shows a similar detachment from the ordinary hopes of\nhumanity as to a future life, although it springs from a very different\nenvironment and training from those of Epictetus. Born in the reign of\nHadrian, and dying in the reign of Septimius Severus, Galen represents the\nreligious spirit of the Antonine age in his firm belief in a spiritual\nPower and Providence.(2615) But in philosophy he was an eclectic of the\neclectics. His medical studies began at the age of seventeen. The\ninfluence of the Platonist, Albinus of Smyrna, above all his stay at\nAlexandria, while they gave him a wide range of sympathy, account for the\nmingled and heterogeneous character of his philosophic creed, which\ncontains elements from every system except that of Epicurus.(2616) The\nresult is a curious hesitation and equipoise between conflicting opinions\non the greatest questions. He is particularly uncertain as to the nature\nof the soul and its relation to the body. The Platonic doctrine that the\nsoul is an immaterial essence, independent of corporeal support, seems to\nGalen very disputable. How can immaterial essences have any separate\nindividuality? How can they diffuse themselves over a corporeal frame and\nalter and excite it, as in lunacy or drunkenness? And again, if the\nPeripatetic doctrine be true, that the soul is the \u201cform\u201d of the body, we\nare soon landed in the Stoic materialism from which Galen shrank. The soul\nwill become, as in the well-known theory refuted in the Phaedo,(2617) a\n\u201ctemperament\u201d of bodily states, and its superior endurance, its\nimmortality, will become a baseless dream. On these great questions the\ncautious man of science will not venture to come to any dogmatic\nconclusion.(2618)\n\nGalen came to Rome in the year 164, at the beginning of the reign of M.\nAurelius. He soon rose to great fame in his profession, and when, in 168,\nhe had returned to his native Pergamum, he was recalled by the emperors to\nmeet them at Aquileia. It was an anxious time. It was the second year of\nthe campaign against the Marcomanni, and the legions, returning with Verus\nfrom the East, had brought with them the taint of a pestilence which\nspread a desolation throughout Italy from which it did not recover for\nages. The slaves were called to arms as in the Punic invasion, along with\nthe gladiators, and even the brigands of Dalmatia, and the massing of the\nforces on the Adriatic only concentrated the malignity of the\nplague.(2619) Galen remained with the army for some time, lending his\nskill to mitigate the horrors of the disease. He returned to Rome in 170,\nand was left there in charge of the youthful Commodus. The philosophic\nEmperor and his philosophic physician must have often met in those\ndreadful years. And we may be sure, from the detachment of M. Aurelius,\nthat their conversations would take a wider range than the sanitary\narrangements of the camp. With death in the air, how could two such men,\ntrained under such masters, fail to question one another as to the sequel\nof death? At any rate the fact remains that M. Aurelius on this question\nis as submissive as Epictetus, as hesitating as Galen.\n\nM. Aurelius is commonly spoken of as realising Plato\u2019s dream of the\nphilosopher on the throne. And yet the description is, without some\nadditions and explanations, somewhat misleading. Philosopher, in the large\nspeculative sense, he certainly is not in his Meditations. For the\ninfinite curiosity of intellect, the passion to pierce the veil of the\nunknown, to build a great cosmic system, he seems to have had but little\nsympathy.(2620) His is the crowning instance of philosophy leaving the\nheights and concentrating itself on conduct, which becomes not merely\n\u201cthree-fourths of life,\u201d but the whole, and his philosophy is really a\nreligion. It is a religion because it is founded on the great principle of\nunquestioning, uncomplaining submission to the will of God, the law of the\nwhole universe. It is a religion because the repellent and rigorous\nteaching of the older Stoicism is, as it is in Epictetus, suffused with a\nglow of emotion.(2621) And yet this religion, which makes such immense\ndemands on human nature, cuts itself off from any support in the hope of a\nfuture life.\n\nOn the subject of immortality, indeed, M. Aurelius sometimes seems to\nwaver. He puts the question hypothetically, or he suggests immortality as\nan alternative to extinction at death. \u201cIf thou goest indeed to another\nlife, there is no want of gods, not even there. But if to a state without\nsensation, thou wilt cease to be held by pains and pleasures, and to be a\nslave to the vessel.\u201d(2622) In one doubtful passage he speaks of \u201cthe time\nwhen the soul shall fall out of this envelop, like the child from the\nwomb.\u201d(2623) He does not dogmatise on a subject so dark. But his favourite\nconception of death is that of change, of transformation, of dissolution\ninto the original elements. An Infinite Spirit, of which the individual\nsoul is an emanation, pervades the universe, and at death the finite\nspirit is reabsorbed by the Infinite.(2624) With this is coupled the\ndoctrine of the dark Ephesian philosophy, which through Platonism had a\nprofound influence on later thought. Life is but a moment of consciousness\nin the unresting flow of infinite mutation;(2625) it is a dream, a mere\nvapour, the sojourn of a passing stranger. And the last thought of\nAurelius probably was that there was no place for a hope of separate\nconscious existence after the last mortal change. Soul and body alike are\nswept along the stream of perpetual transformation, and this particular\n\u201cego,\u201d with all its dreams and memories, will never re-emerge in a\nseparate personality.\n\nM. Aurelius, from the frequency with which he returns to the subject,\nseems fully conscious of the instinctive passion for continued life. But\nhe refuses to recognise it as original and legitimate, and therefore\ndemanding some account to be given of it.(2626) Still less would he ever\ndream of erecting it, as Cicero and Plutarch did, into a powerful argument\nfor some corresponding satisfaction in another world. It is simply one of\nthe irrational appetites, a form of rebellion against the universal order,\nwhich must be crushed and brought into submission to inexorable law.\nNeither do we find in M. Aurelius any feeling of the need for a\nrectification of the injustices of time, for any sphere for the completion\nof ineffectual lives, where the crooked may be made straight and the\nperverted be restored. He has, apparently, no sympathy with the sadness so\noften felt by the noblest minds, at having to go hence with so little\ndone, so little known. The philosopher seems to have no wish to explore in\nsome coming life the secrets of the universe, to prolong under happier\nconditions the endless quest of the ideal in art and knowledge and\nthought, which seems so cruelly baffled by the shortness of the life here\nbelow. The affectionate father and husband and friend seems to have no\ndream of any reunion with kindred souls. Above all, this intensely\nreligious and devout spirit seems to have no conception, such as sometimes\nflashes on the mind of Seneca and of Plutarch, of a future beatitude in\nthe full vision of God. This austere renunciation, if it was deliberate,\nof feelings and hopes so dear to humanity, excites a certain admiration,\nas the result of a stern self-discipline. It is the resignation of what\nare thought to be mere fond, self-flattering fancies in the cold light of\ntruth, and, as such, it must ever command a reverent respect. Yet how\ncompletely the renunciation cuts off M. Aurelius from the spiritual\nmovement of his time, from the great onward sweep of humanity to a\nspiritual reconstruction!\n\nThe attitude of M. Aurelius to the instinctive longing for immortality is\npartly dictated by logical loyalty to the fundamental principles of his\ntheory of life, partly by personal temperament and sad experience. The\ncosmic theory of Heraclitus, the infinite flux of cyclic change, left\nlittle ground for faith in the permanence of consciousness. The Stoic\nprinciple of submission to the law of the whole made it a duty to\nacquiesce calmly, or even cheerfully, in what has been ordained for us.\nThe whole duty, the sole blessedness of man, lie in bringing his will into\nconformity with the Eternal Reason, and in moulding this brief mundane\nlife into a slight counterpart of the order of the mighty world. From one\npoint of view the single human life is infinitely small, a mere point in\ninfinite age,(2627) agitated by hopes and fears which are mere flitting\ndreams of a momentary consciousness. Nay, the grandest features of its\nearthly home shrink to mean proportions before the eye of reason. Asia is\na mere corner, the sea a drop, Athos a tiny clod in the universe.(2628)\nLife is so little a thing that death is no evil.(2629) Yet, looked at on\nanother side, the daemon, the divine spark within each of us, may, by its\nirresistible power, create a moral whole in each human spirit which,\nduring its short space of separate being, may have the rounded harmony and\nperfectness of the whole vast order\u2014it may become a perfect miniature of\nthe universe of God.(2630) This consummate result, attainable, though so\nrarely attained, is the ideal which alone gives dignity to human life. The\nideal of humanity lies not in any future life or coming age; it may be,\nwere the will properly aroused to its divine strength, realised here and\nnow in our short span of forty years of maturity.(2631) Get rid of gross\nfears and hopes, aim only at the moral ends which the will, aided by the\ndaemon within, can surely reach, dismiss the fear of censure from the\nephemeral crowd around us, the craving for fame among ephemeral\ngenerations whom we shall not see,(2632) let the divine impulse within us\ngravitate to its proper orbit, and this poor human life is swept into the\neternal movement of the great whole, and, from a moment of troubled\nconsciousness, becomes a true life in God. Such a life, having fulfilled\nthe true law of its being, is in itself rounded and complete: it needs no\ndreams of future beatitude to rectify its failures or reward its eager\neffort. Death to such a soul becomes an unimportant incident, fixed, like\nall other changes, in the general order. And the length or shortness of\nlife is not worth reckoning. The longest life is hardly a moment in\neternity: the shortest is long enough if it be lived well. This life, as\nfixed by eternal law, is a whole, a thing by itself, a thing with\ninnumerable counterparts in the infinite past, destined to be endlessly\nreproduced in the years of the limitless future.(2633) To repine at its\nshortness is no more rational than to mourn the swift passing of a\nspringtime, whose glorious promise, yet ever-withering charm, have come\nand gone in the self-same way through myriads of forgotten years.\n\nThis is the ideal view of an austere creed, with a grandeur of its own\nwhich all generations of the West have agreed to venerate. But the\ntemperament and the history of M. Aurelius had also their share in shaping\nhis views of life and death. With infinite charity, indulgence, and even\nlove for his fellows, he was a pessimist about human life.(2634) He had\ngood excuse for being so. In the words of one who knew that age as only\ngenius combined with learning can, _le monde s\u2019attristait_; and with good\ncause. The horizon was darkened with ominous thunder-clouds. The internal\nforces of the Empire were becoming paralysed by a mysterious weakness. The\ndim hordes beyond the Danube had descended with a force only to be\nrepelled in many weary campaigns. Famine and pestilence were inflicting\nworse horrors than the Marcomanni. It was the beginning of the end,\nalthough the end was long deferred. The world was growing sad; but there\nwas no sadder man than the saintly Stoic on the throne, who had not only\nto face the Germans on the Danube, and bear the anxieties of solitary\npower, but who had to endure the keener anguish of a soul which saw the\nspiritual possibilities of human nature, but also all its littleness and\nbaseness. The Emperor needed all the lessons of self-discipline and\nclose-lipped resignation which he had painfully learnt for himself, and\nwhich he has taught to so many generations. There have been few nobler\nsouls, yet few more hopeless. Like the arch mocker of the time, although\nfrom a very different point of view, he sees this ephemeral life, with its\ntransient pleasures and triumphs, ending in dust and oblivion.(2635) And\nits fragility is only matched by its weary sameness from age to age. The\nwintry torrent of endless mutation sweeps all round in an eternal\nvortex.(2636) This restless change is a movement of cyclic monotony.(2637)\nGo back to Vespasian or Trajan: you will find the same recurring\nspectacle, men plotting and fighting, marrying and dying.(2638) The\ndaughter who watches by her mother\u2019s death-bed soon passes away under\nother eyes. The soul can in vision travel far, and survey the infinity of\nages.(2639) It can stretch forward into the endless ages to come, as it\ncan go back in historic imagination through the limitless past. Yet it\nfinds nothing strange in the experience of the past, as there will be\nnothing new in the experience of our remotest posterity. The man whose\ncourse has run for forty years, if he has any powers of perception, has\nconcentrated in his brief span the image of all that has been, all that\never will be in human thought or fate. The future is not gilded by any\ndream of progress: it is not to be imaged in any magic light of a Platonic\nUtopia, or City of God descending from heaven like a bride.(2640) From\nthis \u201cterrene filth,\u201d from these poor frivolous souls, what celestial\ncommonwealth could ever emerge?(2641) The moral is, both on the ground of\nhigh philosophy and sad experience\u2014\u201cbe content, thou hast made thy voyage,\nthou hast come to shore, quit the ship.\u201d\n\nBut even in heathendom, long before M. Aurelius was born, the drift of\nthought towards the goal of a personal immortality was strong and intense.\nAnd this was only one consequence of a movement which had profoundly\naffected human thought, and had compelled Stoicism to recast itself, as in\nthe teaching of Seneca. Pure reason could not explain the relation of man\nto the universe, it could not satisfy the deepest human instincts. The\nmaxim, \u201clive according to Nature,\u201d was interpreted by the Stoic to mean a\nlife in accordance with our own higher nature, the Divine element within\nus. Yet this interpretation only brought out the irreconcilable\ndiscordance between the two conceptions of Nature in the physical universe\nand in the human spirit. There are depths and mysteries in the one which\nhave no answering correspondence in the other. Something more than reason\nis needed to solve the problems of human destiny, the mysterious range of\nhuman aspiration. Nature, as a system of cold impersonal processes, has no\nsympathy with man, she may be icily indifferent or actively hostile. To\nconform one\u2019s life to the supposed dictates of an abstract Reason,\nasserting itself in physical laws, which seem often to make a mockery of\nthe noblest effort and aspiration of man, demanded a servility of\nsubmission in human nature, and called upon it to disown a large part of\nits native powers and instincts. Man, a mere ghost of himself, attenuated\nto a bloodless shade, finds himself in presence of a power cold,\nrelentless, unmoral, according to human standards, a power which makes\nholocausts of individual lives to serve some abstract and visionary ideal\nof the whole. The older Stoicism provided no object of worship. For\nworship cannot be paid to an impersonal law without moral attributes. You\nmay in abject quietism submit to it, but you cannot revere or adore it. It\nis little wonder that the Stoic sage, who could triumph over all material\nobstructions by moral enthusiasm, was sometimes exalted above the Zeus who\nrepresented mere passionless physical law. Such an idea\u2014for it cannot be\ncalled a Being\u2014has no moral import, it supplies no example, succour, or\ninspiration. The sage may for a moment have a superhuman triumph, in his\ndefiance of the temptations or calamities with which Nature has surrounded\nhim, but it is a lonely triumph of inhuman pride.(2642) It may be the\ndivine element within him which has given him the victory, but this is\nconceived as the mere effluence of that subtle material force which moves\nunder all the phenomena of physical Nature. In surrendering yourself to\nthe impulse of such a power you are merely putting yourself in line with\nthe other irrational subjects of impersonal law. There is here, it need\nnot be said, no stimulus to moral life, there is the absolute negation of\nit. The affinity of the human soul with the soul of the world is a mere\nphysical doctrine, however refined and subtle be the \u201cfiery breath\u201d which\nis the common element of both. But prolonged ethical study and analysis\ncombined with the infiltration of Platonism by degrees to modify\nprofoundly the Stoic conception of the nature of God, and of the relation\nof man to Him. God tended to become more and more a person, a moral power,\na father. And the indwelling God became the voice of conscience,\nconsoling, prompting, supporting, inspiring an ideal of fuller communion\nin another sphere. Was the longing for continued life, in communion with\nkindred souls, with a Divine Spirit, which has made us what we are, to be\nrelegated to the limbo of anthropomorphic dreams?\n\nSeneca, as we have seen in a former chapter, still retains some of the\nhard orthodoxy of the older Stoicism. In his letters to Lucilius he\noccasionally uses the language of the old Stoic materialism.(2643) But\nthere can be little doubt that Seneca had assimilated other conceptions\nantagonistic to it. God becomes more a Person, distinct from the world,\nwhich He has created, which He governs, which He directs to moral\nends.(2644) He is not merely the highest reason, He is also the perfect\nwisdom, holiness, and love. He is no longer a mere blind force or fate; He\nis the loving, watchful Father, and good men are His sons. The apparent\ncalamities which they have to suffer are only a necessary discipline, for,\n\u201cwhom He loves He tries and hardens by chastisement.\u201d(2645) God can never\nreally injure, for His nature is love, and we are continually loaded with\nHis benefits.(2646) In his view of the constitution of man, Seneca has\ndeviated even further from the creed of his school. He appears indeed to\nassert sometimes that the soul is material, but it is matter so fine and\nsubtle as to be indistinguishable from what we call spirit. And the\nethical studies of Seneca compelled him to abandon the Stoic doctrine of\nthe simple unity of the soul for the Platonic dualism, with the opposition\nof reason and animal impulse. The latter has its seat in the body, or the\nflesh, as he often calls it. And of the flesh he speaks with all the\ncontempt of the _Phaedo_. It is a mere shell, a fetter, a prison; or a\nhumble hostelry which the soul occupies only for a brief space.(2647) With\nthe flesh the spirit must wage perpetual war, as the alien power which\ncramps its native energies, darkens its vision, and perverts its judgment\nof the truth. The true life of the spirit will, as in the theology of\nPlato, only begin when the unequal partnership is dissolved.(2648)\n\nThe orthodox Stoic doctrine allowed a limited immortality, till the next\ngreat cosmic conflagration. But it was doubtful whether even this\ncontinued existence was real personal life, and with some Stoic doctors it\nwas a privilege confined to the greater souls.(2649) Like nearly all\nphilosophers of this age, Seneca occasionally seems to admit the\npossibility of a return to antenatal nothingness at death. \u201cNon potest\nmiser esse qui nullus est\u201d is a consolation often administered even by\nthose who have the hope of something better than the peace of\nannihilation.(2650) It was a consolation which might be a very real one to\nmen living in the reign of Nero. Taken at the worst, death can only be\ndissolution, for the rivers of fire and the tortures of Tartarus are mere\nfigments of poetic fancy. The mind trained in submission to universal law\nwill not shrink from a fate which awaits the universe by fire or\ncataclysmal change. Its future fate can only be either to dwell calmly for\never among kindred souls, or to be reabsorbed into the general\nwhole.(2651) But in moments of spiritual exaltation, such an alternative\ndoes not satisfy Seneca. He has got far beyond the grim submission, or\ngraceful contempt, of aristocratic suicide, or even the faith in a bounded\nimmortality. He has a hope at times apparently more clear than any felt by\nthe Platonic Socrates on the last evening in prison. Death is no longer a\nsleep, a blank peace following the futile agitations of life: it is the\ngateway to eternal peace. The brief sojourn in the body is the prelude to\na longer and nobler life.(2652) The hour, at which you shudder as the\nlast, is really the birthday of eternity, when the mind, bursting from its\nfetters, will expatiate in all the joy of its freedom in the light, and\nhave unrolled before it all the secrets and splendour of starry worlds,\nwithout a haunting shadow.(2653) Nay, the vision is moralised almost in\nChristian fashion. The thought of eternity compels us to think of God as\nwitness of every act, to remember that \u201cdecisive hour\u201d when, with all\nveils and disguises removed, the verdict on our life will be pronounced.\nIt also gives the hope of purging away for ever the taint of the flesh and\nentering on communion with the spirits of the blessed.(2654) Thus as\nthough with the Eternal eyes upon him, a man should shrink from all the\nbaser and meaner side of his corporeal life, and so prepare himself for\nthe great ordeal, and the beatitude of the life to come.\n\nIn the apocalypse of Seneca a new note is struck in pagan meditation on\nthe immortality. We have left far behind the thought of the Manes haunting\nthe ancestral tomb, and soothed in returning years by the jet of wine or\nthe bunch of violets. We are no longer watching, with Pindar or Virgil,\nthe spirits basking in Elysian meads and fanned by ocean breezes. We are\nfar on the way to the City of God, _cujus fundamenta in montibus sanctis_.\nAnd indeed Seneca has probably travelled as far towards it as any one born\nin heathendom ever did. It is not wonderful that, in the fierce religious\nstruggle of the fourth century, his moral enthusiasm, his view of this\nlife as a probation for the next, his glowing vision of an almost\nChristian heaven, should have suggested an imaginary intercourse with St\nPaul.(2655)\n\nWhat were the influences which really moulded his highest conception of\nthe future state, how much was due to a pure and vigorous spiritual\nintuition, how much to Platonic and Pythagorean sources, we cannot pretend\nto say. In Seneca\u2019s most enraptured previsions of immortality, the very\nexuberance of the rhetoric seems to be the expression of intense personal\nfeeling. But Seneca\u2019s was a very open and sensitive mind. One of his\nteachers was Sotion, who, like his master Sextius, was called a\nPythagorean, and who, on true Pythagorean principles, taught Seneca to\nabstain from animal food.(2656) We may be sure that no Pythagorean teacher\nof that age would fail to discuss with his pupil the problem of the future\nlife. It is true that Seneca only once or twice alludes to the doctrine of\na previous life, and he only mentions the Pythagorean school to record the\nfact that in his day it was without a head.(2657) But that does not\npreclude the supposition that he may have felt its influence in the\nformative years of youth. And the Pythagoreans of the early empire were a\nhighly eclectic school. They still reproduced the spirit of their founder\nin mathematical symbolism, in the ideal of asceticism, in a pronounced\nreligious tendency.(2658) But they had absorbed much from Platonism, as\nwell as from the Lyceum and the Porch. These mingled influences also\naccount for the profound alterations which Stoicism had undergone in the\nmind of Seneca. And his contempt for the body or the flesh, and many of\nthe phrases in which its cramping, lowering influences are described,\nsavour of the Pythagorean and Platonist schools.\n\nBut Seneca is an inconsistent, though eloquent and powerful, expounder of\nthat faith in personal immortality, with its moral consequences, which\ngoes back through many ages to Plato, to Pythagoras, to the obscure\napostles of the Orphic revelation, perhaps to Egypt.(2659) The mythical\nOrpheus represents, in the field of religion and in the theory of life and\ndeath, an immense revolution in Greek thought and an enduring spirit which\nproduced a profound effect down to the last years of paganism in the\nWest.(2660) With the names of Orpheus and Pythagoras are connected the\nassured faith in immortality, the conception of this life as only\npreparatory and secondary to the next, the need for purgation and\nexpiation for deeds done in the body, the doctrine of transmigration and\nsuccessive lives, possibly in animal forms. Orpheus was also the mythical\nfounder of mysteries in whose secret lore the initiated were always\nsupposed to receive some comforting assurance of a life to come.(2661) A\nspokesman in one of Cicero\u2019s dialogues recalls with intense gratitude the\nlight of hope and cheerfulness which the holy rites had shed for him both\non life and death.(2662) And Plutarch, on the death of their daughter,\nreminded his wife of the soothing words which they had together heard from\nthe hierophant in the Dionysiac mysteries.(2663) Long before their day\nPlato had often, on these high themes, sought a kind of high\necclesiastical sanction or suggestion for the tentative conclusions of\ndialectic.(2664) The great name of Orpheus, and the mystic lore of this\nesoteric faith, had indeed in Plato\u2019s day been sadly cheapened and\ndegraded by a crowd of mercenary impostors.(2665) And even the venerable\nrites of Eleusis may have contained an element of coarseness, descending\nfrom times when the processes of nature were regarded unveiled.(2666) But\nphilosophy and reason, which purged and elevated religion as a whole, did\nthe same service for the mysteries, and Orphic and Pythagorean became\nalmost convertible.(2667) The systems represent a converging effort to\nsolve those great questions which lie on the borderland of religion and\nphilosophy, questions on which the speculative intellect is so often\nfoiled, and has to fall back on the support of faith and religious\nintuition.(2668) In an age which had forsaken curious speculation, whose\nwhole interest was concentrated on the moral life, an age which longed for\nspiritual vision and supernatural support, an essentially religious\nphilosophy like the new Pythagoreanism was sure to be a great power.\nGathering up impartially whatever suited its main end from the ancient\nschools, maintaining a scrupulous reverence for all the devotion of the\npast, it shed over all a higher light, issuing, as its votaries believed,\nfrom the lands of the dawn.(2669) Keeping a consecrated place for all the\ngods of popular tradition, linking men to the Infinite by a graduated\nhierarchy of spirits with their home in the stars, it rose to the\nconception of the One, pure, passionless Being to whom no bloody sacrifice\nis to be offered, who is to be worshipped best by silent adoration and a\nlife of purity. And in cultivating this purity, the grossness of the body\nmust be attenuated by a strict rule of life.(2670) And though the Highest\nbe so remote and so ethereal, He has not left us without messengers and\ninterpreters to bridge the vast interval between us and the Infinite, by\nmeans of dream and vision and oracle. A world of strange daemonic life\nsurrounds us, a world of spirits and heroic souls akin to ours.(2671) For\nthough we are immersed in the alien element of the flesh, yet our complex\nsoul has a divine part, which may even here below have converse with the\nDivine. During its period of duress and probation, it may indeed become\nirremediably tainted by contact with matter. It may also, hearkening to\nthe voice of philosophy, hold itself clear and pure from such defilement.\nWhen the mortal severance of the two natures comes, the divine part does\nnot perish with its mouldering prison, but it may have a very different\ndestiny in the ages to come, according to the manner of its earthly life.\nThis life and the eternal state are linked in an inevitable moral\nsequence; as we sow, so shall we reap in successive lives. There is a\nGreat Judgment in the unseen world, with momentous, age-long effects. The\nspirit which has refused to yield to the seductions of the flesh may, in\nthe coming life, rise to empyrean heights beyond human imagination to\npicture. The soul which has been imbruted by its environment may have to\npass a long ordeal of three thousand years, and then return to another\nsojourn in human form, or it may sink hopelessly to ever lower depths of\ndegradation.\n\nThe biography of Apollonius of Tyana is, of course, in one sense a\nromance.(2672) Yet its tales of miracle should hardly be allowed to\nobscure its value as a picture of the beliefs of that age. We cannot doubt\nthat the Pythagorean apostle of the time of the Flavians went all over the\nRoman world, preaching his gospel of moral and ritual purity, kindling or\nsatisfying the faith in the world of spirit, striving in a strange fashion\nto reconcile a mystic monotheism and devotion to a pure life of the soul\nwith a scrupulous reverence for all the mythologies. It may, at first\nsight, appear strange that a mystic like Apollonius, of the Pythagorean\nschool, should so seldom allude to the subject of immortality. The truth\nis that Apollonius was not a dogmatic preacher; he dealt little in\ntheories. His chief business, as he conceived it, was with practical\nmorality, and the reform or restoration of ritual where it had fallen into\ndesuetude and decay.(2673) Penetrated as he was with the faith in a\nspiritual world, he seems to assume as a postulate the eternity of the\nsoul, and its incarnation for a brief space on earth. During its sojourn\nin the flesh, it is visited by visions from on high, and such revelations\nare vouchsafed in proportion to its ascetic purity.(2674) What conception\nof the life to come Apollonius entertained we cannot say; but its reality\nto him was a self-evident truth. We are surrounded by the spirits of the\ndeparted, although we know it not. Sailing among the islands of the\nAegean, he once gratified his disciples by the tale of his having met the\nshade of Achilles at his tomb in the Troad.(2675) Men said that the hero\nwas really dead, and in the old home of the Myrmidons, his worship was\nforgotten. But Apollonius, in a prayer which he had learnt from the sages\non the Ganges, called upon the heroic shade to dispel all doubts by\nappearing at his call. At once an earthquake shook the tomb, and a fair\nyouthful form was by his side of wondrous beauty and superhuman stature,\nclothed in a Thessalian mantle. His stature grew more majestic, and his\nbeauty more glorious as Apollonius gazed. But the sage had no weak fears\nin the presence even of so august a spirit, and pressed him with questions\nwhich savour far more of antiquarian than spiritual interest. Was Helen\nreally in Troy? Why does not Homer mention Palamedes? The hero resolved\nhis doubts, sent a warning message to the Thessalians to restore his\nforgotten honours, and in a soft splendour vanished at the first\ncock-crow.(2676)\n\nThe biography of Apollonius closes with a tale which throws a strong light\non the spiritual cravings of that age. The sage firmly believed in\ntransmigration and immortality, although he discouraged debate on these\nhigh themes.(2677) After his death, the youth of Tyana were much occupied\nwith solemn thoughts. But there was a sceptic among them who had vainly\nbesought the departed philosopher to return from spiritland and dispel his\ndoubts as to the future life. At last one day he fell asleep among his\ncompanions, and then suddenly started up as one demented, with the cry\u2014\u201cI\nbelieve thee.\u201d Then he told his friends that he had seen the spirit of the\nsage, that he had been actually among them, though they knew it not,\nchanting a marvellous song of life and death. It told of the escape of the\nsoul from the mouldering frame and of its swift flight to ethereal worlds.\n\u201cThou shalt know all when thou art no more; but while thou art yet among\nthe living, why seek to pierce the mystery?\u201d(2678)\n\nThe new Platonist school, with Plutarch and Maximus at their head, were,\nin this age, the great apostles of the hope of immortality. Platonists in\ntheir theory of mind and God, Neo-Pythagorean in their faith in the\nopenness of the human spirit at its best to supernatural influences, they\nfelt the doctrine of the coming life to be axiomatic. It is true that the\nauthor of the _Consolation to Apollonius_, seems at times to waver, as\nSeneca did, between the idea of extinction at death and the hope of\neternal beatitude.(2679) This piece is full of pessimist thoughts of life,\nand embalms many a sad saying of the Greek poets on its shortness and its\nmisery.(2680) Bringing far more sorrow than joy, life may well be regarded\nas a mysterious punishment. That Thracian tribe which mourned at each\nbirth as others do at death, had a true philosophy of man\u2019s estate. The\ngreat consolation is that, in the phrase of Heraclitus, death and life are\none, we are dying every moment from our birth. Death is the great healer,\nin the words of Aeschylus, the deliverer from the curse of existence,\nwhether it be an eternal sleep or a far journey into an unknown land. The\nprospect of blank nothingness offers no terrors; for the soul only returns\nto its original unconsciousness. But this was hardly a congenial mood to\nthe author, and before the close, he falls back on the solace of mystic\ntradition or poetic vision, that, for the nobler sort, there is a place\nprepared in the ages to come, after the Great Judgment, when all souls,\nnaked and stripped of all trappings and disguises, shall have to answer\nfor the deeds done in the body.(2681) The same faith is professed by\nPlutarch to his wife in the Consolation on the death of their little\ndaughter, which took place while Plutarch was from home. The loss of a\npure bright young soul, full of love and kindness to all, even to her\nlifeless toys, was evidently a heavy blow.(2682) But Plutarch praises his\nwife\u2019s simple restraint and abstinence from the effusive parade of\nconventional mourning. All such displays seemed to him a rather vulgar\nintemperance and self-indulgence.(2683) And why grieve for one who is\nspared all grief? She had her little joys, and, knowing no other, she\nsuffers no pain of loss. Yet Plutarch would not have his wife accept the\ncold consolation that death brings unconsciousness. He reminds her of the\nbrighter, more cheering vision which they have enjoyed together as\ncommunicants in the Dionysiac mysteries. If the soul is undying, if it is\nof divine parentage and has a divine destiny, then the shortness of its\nimprisonment and exile is a blessing. The captive bird may come by use and\nwont actually to love its cage. And the worst misery of old age is not\ngrey hairs and weakness, but a dull absorption in the carnal and\nforgetfulness of divine things. \u201cWhom the gods love die young.\u201d By calling\nthem back early, they save them from long wanderings.(2684)\n\nPlutarch\u2019s belief in immortality is a religious faith, a practical\npostulate. He nowhere discusses the bases of the belief in an exhaustive\nway. It is rather inseparable from his conception of God and His justice,\nand the relation of the human soul to God.(2685) He admits that the\nprospect of reward or punishment in another world has but little influence\non men\u2019s conduct.(2686) Few believe in the tales of tortures of the\ndamned. And those who do can soothe their fears, and purchase a gross\nimmortality, by initiations and indulgences.(2687) Yet it is impossible to\ndoubt that to Plutarch the hope of the eternal life was a precious\npossession. He assails with force, and even asperity, the Epicurean school\nfor their attempt to rob humanity of it, on the pretext of relieving men\nof a load of superstitious fears. They are like men on board a ship who,\nletting the passengers know that they have no pilot, console them with the\nfurther information that it does not matter, as they are bound to drive\nupon the rocks.(2688) The great promise of Epicurus was to free men from\nthe spectral terrors with which poetic fancy had filled the scenery of the\nunder world. But in doing so, he invested death with a new horror\ninfinitely worse than the fabled tortures of the damned. It was a subtle\nfallacy which taught that, as annihilation involves the extinction of\nconsciousness, the lamented loss of the joys and vivid energy of life was\na mere imagination projected on a blank future where no regret could ever\ndisturb the tranquillity of nothingness(2689). Plutarch took his stand on\npsychology. The passion for continued existence is, as a matter of fact,\nthe most imperious in our nature. With the belief in immortality, Epicurus\nsweeps away the strongest and dearest hopes of the mass of men. This life\nis indeed full of pain and sorrow; yet men cling to it passionately,\nmerely as life, in the darkest hours. And they are ready to brave the\nworst horrors of Cerberus and Chimaera for the chance of continued\nexistence.(2690) The privation of a dream of happiness in another world is\na real loss, even though, when the grey day of nothingness dawns, the\nconsciousness of loss be gone. Is it a light thing to tell the nobler\nspirits, the moral athletes, who have battled with evil all life long,\nthat they have been contending for a visionary crown?(2691) Is it nothing\nto the idealist who, amid all the obstructions of the life in the flesh,\nhas been fostering his nobler powers, in the hope of eternal freedom and\nthe full vision of truth, that that real life to which he fancied death\nwas only the gateway is, after all, a mere illusion? Nor does Plutarch\ndisdain to take account of that vivacity of love which in all ages has\nsought to soften the bitterness of parting by the hope of reunion and\nrecognition in other worlds.(2692)\n\nThe Consolation to Apollonius only refers briefly to the punishment of\nlawless wealth and power, as the complement to the reward of virtue.(2693)\nBut this aspect of immortality is dwelt on at length in the remarkable\ntreatise on the Delays of the Divine Vengeance. The problem of hereditary\nguilt, and the punishment of the children for the sins of the fathers in\nthis world, in view of the justice and benevolence of God, leads on to the\nthought of another tribunal which may terribly correct the injustices of\ntime.(2694) The doctrine of Divine providence and the doctrine of\nimmortality stand or fall together.(2695) God could not take so much care\nfor ephemeral souls, blooming for a brief space and then withering away,\nas in the women\u2019s soon-fading gardens of Adonis.(2696) Above all, Apollo\nwould be the greatest deceiver, the god who has so often solemnly from the\ntripod ordered rites of expiation and posthumous honours to be paid to\nlofty souls departed.(2697) Yet, like his great master Plato, Plutarch\nfelt that the full assurance of the long dream of humanity lies beyond the\nveil\u2014that we know not what we shall be. And, like the master, he invoked\nthe apocalyptic power of the religious and poetic imagination to fortify\nthe hesitating conclusions of the reason.\n\nThe visionary power and charm of the great master, whose reign was to be\nprolonged for ages after Plutarch\u2019s time, is seen, perhaps in a faint\nreflection, in Plutarch\u2019s mythical forecast of the future of the soul.\nPlato\u2019s psychology, his sharp opposition of the reason to the lower nature\nrooted in the flesh, his vision of the Eternal Goodness, his intensely\nmoral conception of the responsibility of life on earth, its boundless\npossibilities of future unimpeded intuition, its possible eternal\ndegradation through ages of cyclic change, all this, together with kindred\nelements, perhaps from the Semitic east, had left a profound effect on\nreligious minds. The greatness of S. Augustine is nowhere more apparent\nthan in his frank recognition of the spiritual grandeur of Plato. And that\ngreat spirit, so agile in dialectic subtlety, so sublime in its power of\nrising above the cramping limitations of our mortal life, is also, from\nits vivid poetic sympathy, most ready to aid weak ordinary souls to climb\n\u201cthe altar stairs.\u201d Never was pure detached intelligence wedded so\nharmoniously to glowing imagination, never was ethereal truth so clothed\nin the warm colouring and splendour of the world of sense. Where reason\nhas strained its utmost strength to solve the eternal riddle, ecstatic\nvision and religious myth, transcending the limits of space and time, must\nbe called in to lend their aid.\n\nPlato and the Platonic Socrates are fully conscious that the conclusions\nof philosophic reason on a future state can be only tentative. And they\noften fall back on a divine doctrine, or tradition, or a mythopoeic power\nby which poetic imagination peoples the dim regions of a world beyond the\nsenses. The visions of Timarchus and Thespesius in Plutarch are, like the\nNekuia of the _Phaedo_ and of the _Republic_, an effort of the religious\nimagination to penetrate the darkness from which reason recoils. Nor is\nthe effort strange in one who, along with the purest conception of an\nimmaterial spirit, still believed in the efficacy of legend and material\nsymbol to reveal the truth which they veiled.(2698)\n\nThespesius of Soli, a man of evil life, once fell from a height, was taken\nup for dead, but revived again on the third day, on the eve of his\nfuneral. He came back to the living an altered man, after a marvellous\nexperience. His soul, on escaping from the body, was swept along a sea of\nlight among the stars.(2699) He saw other souls emerging in the form of\nfiery bubbles, which burst and gave forth a subtle form in the likeness of\nman.(2700) Three or four he recognised, and would have spoken to them, but\nthey seemed delirious or senseless, and shrank away from him, forming in\nthe end little companies of their own, who swept along in wild disordered\nmovements, uttering strange cries of wailing or terror. The soul of an old\nacquaintance then hailed him and became his guide, pointing out that the\nsouls of the really dead cast no shadow, being perfectly pellucid,\nsurrounded by light. Yet some of them are marked with scales and weals and\nblotches. Adrasteia is the inevitable judge of all, and, through three\nministers, three great classes of criminals receive their proper doom.\nSome are punished swiftly on earth, another class meet with heavier\njudgment in the shades. The utterly incurable are ruthlessly pursued by\nthe Erinnys, and finally plunged in a dark abyss, of which the horrors\nmight not be told. The second class undergo a fierce purgatorial\ncleansing, in which some spirits have all their stains wiped out and\nbecome clear and lustrous. But where evil is more obstinate, and passion\nagain and again asserts its power, the soul long retains a colour\nappropriate to its peculiar vice. The mean avaricious soul is dark and\nsqualid; the cruel is blood-red; the envious violet and livid. Short of\nthe worst eternal torture, souls with insatiable craving for fleshly\ndelights, gravitate to a birth into low animal forms.(2701)\n\nThespesius and his guide are then swept on wings of light to other and\nless gloomy scenes. Over the chasm of Forgetfulness, clothed in its\nrecesses with flowers and herbs which exhale a fragrant odour, the opening\nthrough which Dionysus had passed to his place among the gods, floated a\ncloud of spirits like birds, drinking in the fragrance with mirth and\ngladness. On again they passed, till they came to a crater which received\nthe flow of many-coloured streams, snow-white or rainbow-hued,(2702) and\nhard by was the oracle of Night and Selene, from which issue dreams and\nphantoms to wander among men. Then Thespesius was dazzled with the\nradiance which shot from the Delphic tripod upwards to the peaks of\nParnassus; and, blinded by the radiance, he could only hear the shrill\nvoice of a woman chanting a song which seemed to tell of the hour of his\nown death. The woman, his guide explained, was the Sibyl who dwells on the\nface of the moon. The sweep of the moon\u2019s onward course prevented him\ncatching the Sibyl\u2019s words to the full, but he heard a prophecy of the\ndesolation of Campania by the fires of Vesuvius, and the death of the\nemperor.\n\nOther scenes of punishment follow, among which Thespesius saw his own\nfather rising from the abyss, covered with weals and marks of torture\nwhich had been inflicted for a long-buried crime. Finally, the friendly\nguide vanished, and Thespesius was forced onwards by dread spectral forms\nto witness fresh scenes of torment. The hypocrite who had hidden his vices\nunder a veil of decorum was forced, with infinite pain of contortion, to\nturn out his inmost soul. The avaricious were plunged by daemons by turns\nin three lakes, one of boiling gold, one of freezing lead, and one of\nhardest iron. But the worst fate of all was reserved for those whose sins\nhad been visited on their innocent descendants upon earth, who pursued\nthem with curses, or clung around them in clouds like bees or bats,\nkeeping ever poignant the memory of transmitted guilt and suffering.(2703)\n\nThe vision of Timarchus, in the piece on the Genius of Socrates, has a\nrather different motive from that which inspired the vision of Thespesius.\nThespesius came back with a message as to the endless consequences of sin\nin worlds beyond the senses, and the far-reaching responsibilities of the\nlife on earth. The experiences of Timarchus in the cave of Trophonius were\nintended to teach the doctrine of the existence, apart from the lower\npowers akin to fleshly nature, of the pure intelligence or daemon, which,\ncoming from the Divine world, can catch its voices and transmit them to\nthe mortal life here below. Timarchus made the descent into the cave of\nTrophonius and spent in its weird darkness two nights and a day, during\nwhich he saw a wondrous revelation of the spirit-world.(2704) His higher\npart, escaping from the sutures of the head, emerged in pellucid ether.\nThere was no trace of earthly scenery, but countless islands swept around\nhim, gleaming with the shifting colours of lambent fire, amid tones coming\nfrom ethereal distances.(2705) From a yawning abyss of surging darkness\narose endless wailings and moans. An unseen guide explained to him the\nfourfold division of the universe and the boundaries of its provinces.\nHigh above all is the sphere of the One and the Invisible. Next in order\nis the region of pure mind, of which the Sun is lord. The third is the\ndebatable land between pure intelligence and the sensible and mortal\u2014the\nregion of soul, whose mistress is the moon. Styx is the boundary between\nthis lunar kingdom and the low world of matter, sin, and death. The three\nrealms beneath the highest correspond to the three elements of our\ncomposite nature,\u2014mind, soul, and body.(2706) This mortal life is a\ntemporary and unequal partnership of the Divine reason with the lower\nappetites, which have their roots in the flesh. It is an exile, an\nimprisonment; it is also a probation of the higher part of human nature,\nand its escape comes to it by a twofold death. The first, imperfect and\nincomplete, is the severance of soul from body in what men call death, the\nfalling away of the gross wrappings of matter. This death is under the\nsway of Demeter. The second, under the care of Persephone, is a slower\nprocess, in which the ethereal reason, the true eternal personality of\nman, is finally released from association with the passionate and\nsensitive nature, which is akin to the bodily organism. After the first\ncorporeal death, all souls wander for a time in the space between the moon\nand earth. In the vision of Timarchus, he saw over the chasm of darkness a\nhost of stars with a curious variety of motion. Some shot up from the gulf\nwith a straight decided impetus. Others wavered in deflexions to right or\nleft, or, after an upward movement, plunged again into the abyss. These\nmotions, as the invisible guide expounded, represent the various\ntendencies of souls, corresponding to the strength or weakness of the\nspiritual force within them. All souls have an element of the Divine\nreason, but it is variously blended with the baser elements in different\nnatures. In some it becomes completely sunk and absorbed in the life of\nthe senses. In others, the rational part holds itself above the lower\nbodily life, and maintains an almost separate existence. And yet there are\nnatures in which the rational and irrational elements wage a long and\nindecisive conflict until, slowly, at last, the passions recognise their\nrightful master, and become obedient to the heavenly voice within. The\ndebased and hopeless souls, rising for a moment after death, are repelled\nwith fierce angry flashes by the moon, and fall back again to the world of\nsense and corruption, to undergo a second birth. The purer souls are\nreceived by her for a loftier destiny. In some, the pure spiritual part is\nfinally released by the love of the Sun from the lower powers of the soul,\nwhich wither and fade away as the body does on earth. Others, still\nretaining the composite nature, though no longer tainted by the flesh,\ndwell in the moon as daemons, but often revisit the earth on various\nmissions, to furnish inspiration to oracles and mysteries, to save men\nfrom crime or to punish, to help the struggling by land or sea. But even\nthe daemons may fall from their high estate. If, in their duties of\nprovidence and succour, they show anger or favour or envy, they may be\nthrust down once more into the purgatory of material form.(2707)\n\nIt may well be that the unsympathetic critic will regard such an\nimaginative invasion of the unseen as a freak of lawless fancy, hardly\nworth chronicling. And like all similar attempts, the apocalypse of\nPlutarch may easily be treated with an airy ridicule. To a more serious\ncriticism, it seems vitiated by a radical inconsistency. Starting with the\nprinciple of the absolutely immaterial nature of the immortal part of man,\nit yet depicts its future existence in the warmest colours of the world of\nsense. Its struggles, its tortures, its beatitude are described in terms\nwhich might seem fitting only to a corporeal nature. All this is true; and\nyet the answer which Plutarch would probably have made to any such cavils\nis very simple. How can you speak of pure disembodied spirit at all, how\ncan you imagine it, save in the symbolism of ordinary speech? Refine and\nsubtilise your language to the very uttermost, and it will still retain\nassociations and reminiscences, however faint and distant, of the material\nworld. Myth and symbol are necessary to any expression of human thought\nalike about God and the future of the soul. The Infinite Spirit and the\nfuture destiny of the finite, which is His child, are equally beyond the\nrange of human sense and speech. When the human spirit has exhausted all\nits efforts of imagination to pierce the darkness of the world beyond the\ngrave, it takes refuge in some religious system which claims to have a\ndivine message and speaks in the tones of another world. The voice from\neternity came to troubled heathendom from Egypt and the East.\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER III\n\n\n                          THE OLD ROMAN RELIGION\n\n\nIt is well known that, from the second Punic War to the revival of\nAugustus, old Roman religion was falling into decay. Yet sweeping\nassertions about the religious condition of any age must he taken with\nsome reserve. They are often unsafe about a contemporary society; they\nmust be still more so with regard to a society which is known to us almost\nentirely through the literary remains of a comparatively small cultivated\nclass. Even among that limited circle, we can know only the opinions of a\nfew, and hardly anything of its silent members, still less of the feelings\nof its women and dependents. A deep shadow rests on those remote granges\nand quiet country towns in Samnium or Lombardy where character remained\nuntainted in the days of Nero or Domitian, and where the religion of Numa\nlong defied the penal edicts of Theodosius and Honorius. Lucretius, whose\nmission it was to liberate men from the terrors of old Latin and Etrurian\nsuperstition, was not contending against an imaginary foe. The sombre\nenthusiasm which he throws into the conflict reveals the strength of the\nenemy. The grandmother of Atticus and Terentia, the wife of Cicero, were\ntimorous devotees. Among the aristocratic augurs of Cicero\u2019s day there\nwere firm believers in the sacred birds; and Lentulus, a confederate of\nCatiline, trusted implicitly in the oracles of the Sibyl.(2708)\n\nStill there can be no doubt that in the governing and thinking class of\nthe last century of the Republic, scepticism and even open contempt for\nthe old religion were rampant. Many causes were at work to produce this\ndecadence of old Roman faith. It was hardly possible for the cultivated\nRoman of the days of Scipio Aemilianus, or of Cicero and Caesar, who had\nfought and travelled in many lands, and studied their mythologies and\nphilosophies, to acquiesce in the faith of the simple farmers of Latium,\nwho founded the Ambarvalia and Lupercalia, who offered the entrails of a\ndog to Robigus(2709) and milk to Pales and Silvanus, who worshipped\nJupiter Feretrius under the mountain oak.(2710) Since those far-off days,\nLatium had come under many influences, and added many new deities to her\npantheon. The gods of Hellas had come to be identified with the gods of\nRome, or to share their honours. Syncretism had been at work in Italy\ncenturies before the days of Plutarch and Aristides. And the old Italian\ndeities, who had only a shadowy personality, with no poetry of legend to\ninvest them with human interest, melted into one another or into forms of\nalien mythology. Greek literature became familiar to the educated from the\nHannibalic war, and a writer like Euripides, who had a great popularity,\nmust have influenced many by the audacious skill with which he lowered the\ndignity and dimmed the radiance of the great figures of Greek legend. The\ncomic stage improved upon the lesson. Early in the second century Ennius\ntranslated the Sacred Histories of Euhemerus, and familiarised his\ncountrymen with a theory which reduced Jupiter and Saturn, Faunus and\nHercules, to the stature of earthly kings and warriors. But Greek\nphilosophy was the great solvent of faith. The systems of the New Academy\nand Epicurus were openly or insidiously hostile to religious belief. But\nthey had not so long and powerful a reign over the Roman mind as Stoicism,\nand, although the earlier Stoicism extended a philosophic patronage to\npopular religion, it may be doubted whether it stimulated faith. There was\nindeed a certain affinity between Stoical doctrine and old Roman religion,\nas there was between Stoic morals and old Roman character. In resolving\nthe gods by allegory and pseudo-scientific theory into various potencies\nof the great World-Soul, the follower of Zeno did not seem to do much\nviolence to the vaguely personified abstractions of the old Latin creed.\nAbove all, with the exception of Panaetius, the Stoic doctors did not\nthrow doubt on the powers of divination and augury, so essential an\nelement in the religion of Rome. The power to read the future was a\nnatural corollary to the providence and benevolence of the gods.(2711)\nYet, although the Stoic might strive to discover the germ of truth, he did\nnot conceal his contempt for the husk of mythology in which it was hidden,\nand for many of the practices of worship.(2712)\n\nQuintus Scaevola and Varro applied all the forces of subtle antiquarianism\nand reverence to sustain the ancestral faith. But they also drew the line\nsharply between the religion of philosophy and the religion of the State.\nAnd Varro went so far as to say that the popular religion was the creation\nof early statesmen,(2713) and that if the work had to be done again, it\nmight be done better in the light of philosophy. The Stoic in Cicero, as\nSeneca did after him, treated the tales of the gods as mere anile\nsuperstition.(2714) It is probable that such was the tone, in their\nretired debates, of the remarkable circle which surrounded Scipio and\nLaelius. Panaetius, their philosophic guide, had less sympathy than any\ngreat Stoic with popular theology.(2715) Polybius gave small place to\nProvidence in human affairs, and regarded Roman religion as the device of\nstatesmen to control the masses by mystery and terror.(2716) Yet these men\nwere enthusiastic champions of a system which they regarded as irrational,\nbut which was consecrated by immemorial antiquity. Laelius defended the\ninstitutions of Numa in a speech of golden eloquence which moved the\nadmiration of Cicero, just as Symmachus defended them five centuries later\nbefore the council of Valentinian.(2717) The divorce between esoteric\nbelief and official profession must have insidiously lowered the moral\ntone of those who were at once thinkers and statesmen. Such a false\nposition struck some of the speakers in Cicero\u2019s theological dialogues,\nand it makes his own opinions an enigma.(2718) The external and\nutilitarian attitude to the State religion hardly secured even punctual or\nreverent conformity in the last age of the Republic. Divination and augury\nhad become mere engines of political intrigue, and the aristocratic\nmagistrate could hardly take the omens without a smile. Varro could not\nrepress the fear that the old religion, on which he expended such a wealth\nof learning, might perish from mere negligence.(2719) The knowledge of\nliturgical usage began to fade, and Varro had to recall the very names of\nforgotten gods. An ancient priesthood of the highest rank remained\nunfilled for seventy years.(2720) Scores of the most venerable temples\nwere allowed to fall into ruin,(2721) and ancient brotherhoods like the\nTitii and Fratres Arvales are hardly heard of for generations before the\nreforms of the Augustan age.\n\nIt is not within the scope of this work to enter minutely into the subject\nof that great effort of reform or reaction. It is commonly said that the\ncool imperial statesman had chiefly political ends in view, and especially\nthe aggrandisement and security of the principate. And certainly Ovid, who\nstrove to interest his countrymen in the revival of their religion, does\nnot display much seriousness in religion or morals. He treats as lightly\nthe amours of Olympus as the intrigues of the Campus Martius and the\nCircus. Yet it may well have been that after the terrible orgies of civil\nstrife through which the Roman world had passed, Augustus was the\nconvinced representative of a repentant wish to return to the old paths.\nThe Roman character, through all wild aberrations of a trying destiny, was\nan enduring type. And Augustus, if he may have indulged in impious revels\nin his youth, which recall the wanton freaks of Alcibiades,(2722) had two\ngreat characteristics of the old Roman mind, formalism and superstition.\nHe had an infinite faith in dreams and omens. He would begin no serious\nbusiness on the Nones.(2723) When he had to pronounce a funeral oration\nover his sister, Octavia, he had a curtain drawn before the corpse, lest\nthe eyes of the pontiff might be polluted by the sight of death.(2724) We\nmay think that his religious revival was not inspired by real religious\nsentiment. Yet it is well to remind ourselves that old Roman religion,\nwhile it consecrated and solemnised the scenes and acts of human life, was\nessentially a formal religion; the _opus operatum_ was the important\nthing. Its business was to avert the anger or win the favour of dim\nunearthly powers; it was not primarily to purify or elevate the soul.\nAbove all, it was interwoven from the beginning with the whole fabric of\nsociety and the State. Four centuries after Augustus was in his grave, it\nwas only by a violent wrench, which inflicted infinite torture even on\npagan mystics of the Neoplatonist school, that Rome was severed from the\ngods who had been the guardians and partners of her career for twelve\nhundred years. The altar of Victory which Augustus had placed in the\nSenate-house, and before which twelve generations of senators after him\noffered their prayers for the chief of the State, the most sacred symbol\nof the pagan Empire, was only removed after a fierce, obstinate struggle.\n\nThe religious revival of Augustus may not have aroused any deep religious\nsentiment; that, as we shall see, was to come from a different source. But\nit gave a fresh life to the formal religion of the State, which maintained\nitself till within a few years before the invasion of Alaric. The title\nAugustus which the new emperor assumed was one which, to the Roman mind,\nassociated him with the majesty of Jupiter and the sanctity of all holy\nplaces and solemn rites.(2725) It was the beginning of that theocratic\ntheory of monarchy which was to culminate, under the influence of\nSun-worship, in the third century, and to propagate itself into ages far\nremoved from the worship of Jupiter or the Sun. Although the counsels of\nMaecenas, recorded by Dion Cassius, may be apocryphal, Augustus acted in\ntheir spirit.(2726) As triumvir he had raised a shrine to Isis,(2727) as\nemperor he frowned on alien worships.(2728) His mission was to restore the\nancient religion of Latium. He burnt two thousand books of spurious\naugury, retaining only the Sibylline oracles.(2729) He restored the\nancient temples, some of them, like those of Jupiter Feretrius and Juno\nSospita, coeval with the Roman State, and encouraged his friends to do the\nsame for other venerable monuments of devotion. The most lavish gifts of\ngold and jewels were dedicated in the Capitoline temples. The precision of\nancient augury was restored. Ancient priesthoods which had been long\nvacant were filled up, and the sacred colleges were raised in dignity and\nwealth.(2730) Special care was taken to recall the vestals to the chaste\ndignity from which they had fallen for a hundred years. Before taking his\nseat, each senator was required to make a prayer, with an offering of\nincense and wine before the altar. Three worships, specially connected\nwith the fortunes of Augustus or his race,\u2014those of Venus Genetrix, Mars\nUltor, and the Palatine Apollo,\u2014were revived with added splendour.(2731)\nThe emperor paid special attention to the ancient sacred colleges, such as\nthe Salii and Arvales, which went back to days far earlier than the\nRepublic. Amid all the cares of State, he attended their meetings\npunctually. The dangerous right of co-optation was quietly withdrawn, till\nthe members in the end owed their appointment to the sacerdotal chief of\nthe State.(2732) The colleges became the most courtly and deferential\nsupports of the prince\u2019s power. Prayers for his safety soon found a place\nin their antique litanies. It has been said with some truth that the Salii\nand Arvales seem to be thinking more of the emperors than of the gods. The\ncolleges had a courtly memory for all anniversaries in the imperial\nfamily. The Arval brothers achieved the infamy of complimenting Nero on\nhis return after the murder of Agrippina,(2733) and made vows of equal\nfervour for all the emperors of the year 69.(2734)\n\nBut it was through the chief pontificate that the emperors did most at\nonce to fortify and dignify their secular power, and to prolong the reign\nof the old Latin religion. It was the highest religious dignity of ancient\nRome. The college of which the emperor, as Pontifex Maximus, was head\nexercised a supreme and comprehensive control over the whole field of\nreligion.(2735) It was charged with the duty of maintaining the ancestral\npurity and exactness of the national worship, and of repressing tendencies\nto innovation and the adoption of alien rites. It selected the virgins who\nguarded the eternal fire, and sat in judgment on erring vestals and their\nbetrayers. It had special jurisdiction in questions of adoption, burial,\nand sacred sites.(2736) From Augustus every emperor was also chief\npontiff;(2737) even the Christian princes from Constantine to Valentinian\nand Valens bear the honoured title in the inscriptions, and accepted the\npontifical robes.(2738) Thus the emperors strove in their religious\nattributes to connect themselves with the sacred tradition of Numa and the\nRoman kings. And, as time went on, the imperial house claimed a growing\nshare in the pontifical honours. Nero, indeed, had been a member of all\nthe sacred colleges as well as chief pontiff.(2739) But down to the reign\nof Vespasian only one of the \u201cCaesares\u201d could belong to the sacred\ncollege. But his sons Titus and Domitian were co-opted to the pontificate\nand all the priestly colleges before his death.(2740) From Hadrian the\npontificate and all the highest sacerdotal honours were held by all\ndesignated successors of the emperor.(2741) Antoninus Pius has the\ninsignia of four priestly colleges on his coins.(2742) M. Aurelius was one\nof the Salian brotherhood in his eighth year,(2743) and was received into\nall the colleges at nineteen.(2744) Commodus had reached the same sacred\nhonours before he assumed the toga,(2745) and in five years more was\nPontifex Maximus. Thus deeply had the policy of Augustus sunk into the\nminds of his successors. It is little wonder that never in the great days\nof the Republic were the forms of ancient religion more scrupulously\nobserved than in the reign of M. Aurelius.(2746)\n\nPrivate opinion after the Augustan revival greatly varied as to matters of\nfaith. Men like the elder Pliny and Seneca scoffed at anthropomorphic\nreligion. Men like Juvenal and Tacitus maintained a wavering attitude,\nwith probably a receding faith. Others like Suetonius were rapacious\ncollectors of every scrap of the miraculous. The emperors who succeeded\nAugustus were, with the exception of Nero, loyal supporters and protectors\nof the religion of the State. Tiberius, although personally careless of\nreligion, displayed a scrupulous respect for ancient usage in filling up\nthe ancient priesthoods, and in guarding the Sibylline verses from\ninterpolations.(2747) He also frowned on the imported rites of\nEgypt.(2748) Claudius, at once pedantic and superstitious, revived\nvenerable rites of the days of Tullus Hostilius, and, when an ill-omened\nbird alighted on the temple of Jupiter, as supreme pontiff, the emperor\npronounced the solemn form of expiation before the assembled people.(2749)\nNero, and the Neronian competitors for the Empire, in the fierce conflict\nwhich followed his death, were, indeed, often, though not always, careless\nof ancient rite, but they were all the slaves of superstition.(2750) The\nFlavians and Antonines were religious conservatives of the spirit of\nAugustus. There is a monument to Vespasian of the year 78 A.D. as \u201cthe\nrestorer of temples and public ceremonies.\u201d(2751) The restoration of the\nCapitol, which had been burned down in the civil war, was one of the first\ntasks of his reign. And the ceremony made such an impression on the\nimagination of the youthful Tacitus, that he has recorded with studied\ncare the stately and accurate ritual of olden time which was observed by\nthe emperor.(2752) Domitian carried on the restoration on even a more\nsplendid scale; he was a devotee of Minerva, and a rigorous vindicator of\nold ascetic religious law.(2753) The emperor Hadrian, whose character is\nan enigma of contrasts, to judge by his last famous _jeu d\u2019esprit_ on his\ndeath-bed, probably died a sceptic. Yet his biographer tells us that he\nwas a careful guardian of the ancient ritual.(2754) The archaistic fashion\nin literary taste, which had begun in the first century, and which\nculminated in Hadrian\u2019s reign, favoured and harmonised with a scrupulous\nobservance of ancient forms in religion.(2755) The genius of one too early\ntaken away has done more than a legion of historic critics to picture for\nus the sad, dutiful piety of a spirit of the Antonine age, steeped in\nphilosophies which made the passing moment of vivid artistic perception\nthe great end of life, yet still instinct with the old Roman love of\nimmemorial forms at the harvest gathering or the yearly offering to the\ndead members of the household.(2756) The cheerless negation of Epicurus,\nand the equally withering theology of the Stoics, could not weaken in\nRoman hearts the spell of ancestral pieties which clustered round the\nvault near the grey old country house of the race, looking down on the\nTyrrhene sea, or the awe of ancient grove or spring sacred to Silvanus and\nthe Nymphs, or the calm, chastened joy in a ritual in which every act was\ndictated by a love of ceremonial cleanness and exactness, and redolent of\nan immemorial past. In such a household, and in such an atmosphere, the\ntwo great Antonines were reared. The first, who was before all else an\nhonest country gentleman, fond of hunting, fishing, and the gladness of\nthe vintage at Lorium, never failed to perform all due sacrifices unless\nhe was ill. His coins bear the pictured legends of the infancy of\nRome.(2757) M. Aurelius was famous as a boy for his knowledge of Roman\nritual. Enrolled in the college of the Salii in his eighth year, he\nperformed all its sacred offices with perfect composure, reciting from\nmemory, with no one to dictate the form, every word of the ancient liturgy\nwhich had in his generation become almost unintelligible.(2758) In the\nterror of the Marcomannic invasion he delayed his departure for the seat\nof war to summon around him all the priests; he had the city purified in\nsolemn, decorous fashion, not excluding even the rites of alien lands; and\nfor seven days the images of the gods were feasted on their couches along\nall the streets.(2759)\n\nThe emperors from Augustus found religion a potent ally of sovereignty,\nand the example of the master of the world was a great force. Yet it may\nwell be doubted whether, in the matter of religious conservatism, the\nemperors were not rather following than leading public opinion. Gods were\nin those times being created by the score; apotheosis was in the air from\nthe days of Nero to the days of the Severi. Petronius, with an\nexaggeration which has a certain foundation in fact, affirms that in\nCroton you could more readily light upon a god than on a man.(2760) The\nelder Pliny uses almost the same strength of language. The grumbler in\nLucian indignantly complains of the fashion in which the ancient gods of\nOlympus are being overshadowed by the divine _parvenus_ of every clime.\nAnd, as we shall presently see, the inscriptions reveal an immense\npropaganda of worships in tone and spirit apparently hostile to the old\nreligion of the Latin race. Yet the inscriptions also show that the old\ngods had really little to fear from the new. A survey of the index to\nalmost any volume of the Corpus will convince the student that the Trinity\nof the Capitol,\u2014Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva,\u2014that Hercules and Silvanus,\nthe Nymphs, Semo Sancus and Dea Dia, Mars and Fortuna, so far from being\nneglected, were apparently more popular than ever.(2761) In an age of\ngrowing monotheism the King of the gods was, of course, still supreme in\nhis old ascendency. Jupiter is worshipped under many titles; he is often\ncoupled or identified with some provincial deity of ancient fame.(2762)\nBut Jupiter is everywhere. The Lord of the thunder and the tempest has\nshrines on the high passes of the Apennines or the Alps,(2763) and\nsoldiers or travellers leave the memorials of their gratitude for his\nprotection on perilous journeys.(2764) The women of Campanian towns go in\nprocession to implore him to send rain.(2765) Antoninus Pius built a\ntemple to Juno Sospita of Lanuvium, where the goddess had a sacred grove,\nand a worship of great antiquity.(2766) The Quinquatria of Minerva were\nnot only celebrated with special honour by Domitian, but by large and\npowerful classes who owned her divine patronage, physicians and artists,\norators and poets.(2767) Some of the old Latin deities seem to have even\ngrown in popularity under the early Empire. Hercules, the god of plenty,\nstrong truth, and good faith, whose legend is intertwined with the most\nvenerable names in Roman story, has his altars and monuments\neverywhere.(2768) Combining with his own native Latin character the poetic\nprestige of his brother of Greek legend, he became the symbol of\nworld-wide conquest, and was associated in the end with the triumph of the\n\u201cunconquered\u201d Mithra. His image is stamped upon the coins of some of the\nemperors. Septimius Severus, Caracalla, and Diocletian took him for their\ngreat divine patron and ensample.(2769) Silvanus, too, the god of the\nprimeval forest, and, when the forest had receded, the god of the shepherd\nand the farmer, the guardian of boundaries, acquired a strange vogue in\nwhat was eminently an age of cities. One is apt, however, to forget\nsometimes that it was an age which had also a charming country life. A\nRoman cavalry officer in Britain has left a memorial of his gratitude to\nSilvanus for the capture of a wild boar of surpassing size and\nstrength,(2770) which had long defied the hunter. In one of the forest\ncantons of the Alps a procurator of the imperial estates inscribed his\ngratitude in a pretty set of verses to the god of the wilds, whose image\nwas enshrined in the fork of a sacred ash.(2771) It is the record of many\na day passed in lonely forest tracks, coupled with a prayer to be restored\nsafely to Italian fields and the gardens of Rome. The nymphs and river\ngods had all their old honours. Chapels and hostelries, in the days of\nPliny, rose on the banks of the Clitumnus, where the votaries easily\ncombined pleasure with religious duty. The nymphs receive votive thanks\nfor the discovery of hidden springs, or for the reappearance of some\nfountain long dried up.(2772) Aesculapius, who had been naturalised in\nItaly since the beginning of the third century B.C., sprang to a foremost\nplace in the age of the Antonines. Whether it was \u201can age of\nvaletudinarians,\u201d as has been said, may be doubtful; but it was an age\neagerly in quest of the health which so often comes from the quiet mind.\nWhatever we may think of the powers of the old Olympians, there can be no\ndoubt about the beneficent influence of the god of Epidaurus. He was\nsummoned to Rome 300 years before Christ, and obtained a home in the\nisland in the Tiber, where for ages he gave his succour in dreams. His\nworship spread far and wide, and was one of the last to succumb to the\nadvance of the Church.(2773)\n\nThe unassailable permanence of the old religion may perhaps be still more\nvividly realised in the long unbroken life of sacred colleges, such as the\nSalii and the Fratres Arvales. The Arval brotherhood was probably the\noldest sacred corporation of Latium, as its liturgy, preserved in the Acta\nfrom the reign of Augustus to that of Gordian, is the oldest specimen of\nthe Latin language.(2774) According to the legend, the first members were\nthe twelve sons of Acca Larentia, the foster-mother of Romulus, and\nRomulus himself first held the dignity of master of the brotherhood.(2775)\nIts patron goddess, Dea Dia,(2776) was, as her very name suggests, one of\nthose dim shadowy conceptions dear to old Roman awe, who was worshipped in\nthe still solitude of ancient groves, on whose trunks no axe of iron might\never ring,(2777) a power as elusive and multiform to picturing fancy as\nthe secret forces which shot up the corn ear from the furrow. The whole\ntone of the antique ritual savours of a time when the Latin race was a\ntribe of farmers, believing with a simple faith that the yearly increase\nof their fields depended on the favour of secret unearthly powers. The\nmeetings of the college took place on three days in May, the precise dates\nbeing fixed and solemnly announced by their master on the 3rd of\nJanuary.(2778) The festival began and ended in the master\u2019s house at Rome,\nthe intermediate day being spent in a sacred grove on the right bank of\nthe Tiber, about four miles from the city. There was much feasting, at\nwhich the brethren were attended by the Camilli, four sons of high-born\nsenators. Corn of the new and the preceding year was touched and blessed;\nlibations and incense were offered to the goddess, and all the rites were\nperformed with many changes of costume, which were rigidly observed.(2779)\nIn the ceremonies which took place in the grove, an expiatory sacrifice of\ntwo porkers and a white cow was always offered, to atone for the use of\nany iron implement, or other infringement of the ancient rubric.(2780) Fat\nlambs were offered in sacrifice to Dea Dia, and ancient earthen vessels of\nrude make, resembling those of the age of Numa, were adored upon the\naltar.(2781) Ears of corn, plucked in some neighbouring field, were\nblessed and passed from the hand of one member to another, and back again\nin reverse order, and, at last, in the closed temple, along with solemn\ndancing, the famous chant was intoned from ancient scrolls, the words of\nwhich had long become strange even to the antiquary. After another meal in\nthe hall of the brotherhood, the members passed on to the circus and gave\nthe signal for the races to begin.(2782)\n\nThis ritual, so little heard of before the time of Augustus, is chiefly\nknown to us from the Acta which have been recovered from the site of the\nancient grove. The monuments of it extend from the reign of Augustus to\nthe year 241 A.D.(2783) Members of the highest aristocracy and princes of\nthe imperial house appear on its lists. Its membership was a high\ndistinction, and was sometimes conferred by the potent recommendation of\nthe emperor.(2784) The college evidently became a great support of the\nimperial power.\n\nThe emperors were elected _magistri_ of the College, and we can read that\nCaligula, Nero, Vespasian, and Titus were present at its meetings. In the\nopening days of January the most solemn vows are made in old Roman fashion\nfor the emperor\u2019s safety, to Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva, to Salus and Dea\nDia, and they are duly paid by offerings of oxen with gilded horns.(2785)\nSo servile or so devoted to the throne was the brotherhood, that their\nprayers were offered with equal fervour for three emperors in the awful\nyear 69 A.D.(2786) The vows made for Galba in the first week of January\nwere alertly transferred to the cause of Otho the day after Galba\u2019s\nmurder.(2787) The college met to sacrifice in honour of Otho\u2019s pontificate\non the day (March 14) on which he set out to meet his doom in the battle\non the Po. Thirteen days after his death, while the spring air was still\ntainted with the rotting heaps on the plain of Bedriacum, vows as fervent\nor as politic were registered for Vitellius. In the summer of the\nfollowing year, the arrival of Vespasian in the capital was celebrated by\nthe Arval brothers with sacrifices to Jupiter, Juno, Minerva and Fortuna\nRedux.(2788)\n\nThe college, as a matter of course, paid due honour to the emperor\u2019s\nbirthday and all important anniversaries in his family. It is interesting\nto see how for years the Neronian circle, the Othos and Vitellii, along\nwith Valerii and Cornelii, appear in all the records of the college.(2789)\nIt was apparently devoted to Nero. The brothers celebrate his birthday and\nall the civic and sacerdotal honours heaped upon him.(2790) They make vows\nfor his wife Octavia, and soon after, for the safety of Poppaea in\nchildbirth. The matricide dreaded to return from Campania after his\nunnatural crime, but his admirers knew well the abasement of the Roman\naristocracy, and promised him an enthusiastic reception. The Arval\nbrotherhood, which then included a Regulus and a Memmius, redeemed the\npromise, and voted costly sacrifices for his safe restoration to the\ncapital.(2791) They execrate the secret plots against his sacred person,\nand offer thanksgiving for the detection of the Pisonian conspiracy.(2792)\n\nThe extant prayers and congratulations for the safety of Vespasian are\nmuch more quiet and restrained than those for his cruel son\nDomitian.(2793) The public joy at Domitian\u2019s safe return from ambiguous\nvictories in Germany or Dacia is faithfully re-echoed, and effusive\nsupplications are recorded for his safety from all peril and for the\neternity of the Empire whose bounds he has enlarged. There is a sincerer\ntone in the prayers, in the spring of 101, for the safe return of Trajan,\nwhen he was setting out for his first campaign on the Danube, and on his\nhome-coming four years later.(2794) The Arval records of Hadrian\u2019s reign\nare chiefly noteworthy for his letters to the college, recommending his\nfriends for election.(2795) In the reign of Antoninus Pius the Acta\nregister those perfervid acclamations which meet us in the later Augustan\nhistories:(2796)\u2014\u201cO nos felices qui te Imperatorem videmus; Di te servent\nin perpetuo; juvenis triumphis, senex Imperator!\u201d The young M. Aurelius is\nfirst mentioned in 155 A.D. Probably the sincerest utterance in the Arval\nliturgies is the petition for his safety, and that of L. Verus, from peril\nin the years when the Quadi and Marcomanni swept down through Rhaetia and\nthe Julian Alps to the shores of the Adriatic.(2797)\n\nIt was thus that the antique ritual of a rustic brotherhood was converted\ninto a potent support of the imperial power. No part of the Augustan\nrevival was perhaps so successful. Probably few of the emperors, or of the\naristocratic brothers who intoned the litany for the safety of the\nimperial house, had much faith in its efficacy. But the ceremony linked\nthe principate with the most venerable traditions of Latium, and with\nRomulus the first master of the college. When we read the minute and\nformal record of these coarse sacrifices and rude, fantastic rites, with\nthe chanting of prayers no longer understood, we are amazed at the\nprolongation for so many ages of religious ideas which the Roman mind\nmight appear to have outgrown. Yet in such inquiries there is often a\ndanger of treating society as a uniform mass, moving together along the\nsame lines, and permeated through all its strata by the same influences.\nIn another chapter we have shown that the masses were probably never so\nsuperstitious as in the second century. And the singular thing is that the\ninflux of foreign religions, due to the wide conquests of Rome, never to\nthe end seems to have shaken the supreme attachment of the people to their\nancient gods. It is true that the drift towards monotheism was felt even\namong the crowd. But while the educated might find expression for that\ntendency in the adoration of Isis or the Sun, the dim monotheism of the\npeople turned to the glorification of Jupiter. Dedications to him are the\nmost numerous in all lands. He is often linked with other gods or all the\ngods,(2798) but he is always supreme. And, while he is the lord of tempest\nand thunder,(2799) he is also addressed by epithets which show that he is\nbecoming a moral and spiritual power. On many a stone he appears as the\ngovernor and preserver of all things, monitor, guardian, and heavenly\npatron, highest and best of the heavenly hierarchy.(2800) Yet it is\nequally clear that other gods are worshipped in the same spirit as of old.\nRoman religion was essentially practical. Prayer and vow were the means to\nwin temporal blessings. The gods were expected, in return for worship, to\nbe of use to the devotee. It is evident from the inscriptions that this\nconception of religion was as prevalent in the age of the Antonines, or of\nthe oriental princes, as it was under the Republic. The sailor still\noffers thanks for his preservation to Neptune and the gods of the\nsea.(2801) The successful merchant still honours Mercury.(2802) Minerva\nMemor receives thanks for succour in sickness. A lady of Placentia even\npays her vows for the recovery of her hair.(2803) The reappearance of a\nhidden spring is still attributed to the grace of the Nymphs.(2804) And in\nmany a temple the healing power of Aesculapius is acknowledged by grateful\ndevotees.(2805)\n\nA more difficult problem is presented by the attitude of the cultivated\nclass to the old mythologies. Since the days of Xenophanes and of Plato,\nphilosophy had revolted against the degradation of the Divine character by\nancient legend. It had taught for ages the unity of the mysterious Power\nor Goodness which lies behind the shifting scene of sense. Moreover,\nphilosophy for generations had deserted the heights of speculative\ninquiry, and addressed itself to the task of applying the spiritual truth\nwhich the schools had won to the problems of practical religion and human\nlife. Alike in Cicero, in Seneca, in Plutarch, and M. Aurelius, there are\nconceptions of God and the worship due to Him, of prayer, of the relation\nof conduct to religion, which seem irreconcilable with conformity to the\nold religion of Rome. How could a man, nourished on such spiritual ideas\nand refined by a thousand years of growing culture, take part in a gross\nmaterialistic worship, and even gallantly defend it against all\nassailants?\n\nThe conformity of highly instructed minds to ancient systems which their\nreason has outgrown is not always to be explained by the easy imputation\nof dishonesty. And that explanation is even less admissible in ancient\nthan in modern times. Roman religion did not demand any profession of\nfaith in any theory of the unseen; all it required was ceremonial purity\nand exactness. And the Roman world was never scandalised by the spectacle\nof a notorious sceptic or libertine holding the office of chief pontiff.\nIf a man were more scrupulous himself, philosophy, whether of the Porch or\nthe Academy, came to his aid. It would tell him that frail humanity,\nunable to comprehend the Infinite God, had parcelled out and detached his\nvarious powers and virtues, which it adored under material forms according\nto its varying needs.(2806) Or it found a place for all the gods of\nheathendom, as ministering or mediating spirits in the vast abyss which\nseparates us from the unapproachable and Infinite Spirit.(2807) If the\nlegends which had gathered around the popular gods offended a tender moral\nsense, men were taught that the apparent grossness was an allegorical\nhusk, or a freak of poetic fancy which concealed a wholesome truth. Thus a\npantheist or monotheist, who would never have created such a religious\nsystem for himself, was trained to cultivate a double self in matters of\nreligion, to worship reverently with the crowd, and to believe with Zeno\nor with Plato.\n\nThe heathen champion in the dialogue of Minucius Felix maintains that, in\nthe dimness and uncertainty of things, the safest course is to hold fast\nto the gods of our fathers.(2808) The inclination of the sceptic was\nfortified by the conservative instinct of the Latin race and its love of\nprecedent and precision of form. Moreover the religion of Numa was\nprobably more than any other involved and intertwined with the whole life\nof the people. It penetrated the whole fabric of society; it consecrated\nand dignified every public function, and every act or incident of private\nlife. To desert the ancient gods was to cut oneself off from Roman\nsociety, as the Christians were sternly made to feel. No established\nChurch in modern Christendom has probably ever so succeeded in identifying\nitself with the national life in all its aspects. Alike under the Republic\nand under the Empire, religion was inseparable from patriotism. The\nimperial pontiff was bound to watch over the purity and continuity of the\nLatin rites. He might be a scoffer like Nero, or a spiritually-minded\nStoic like M. Aurelius, an Isiac devotee like Commodus, or devoted to the\nSyrian worships like the Oriental princes of the third century. But he\ntook his duties seriously. He would dance with the Salii, or accept with\ngratitude the mastership of the Arval brotherhood, or order a\n_lectisternium_ to ward off a pestilence or a menacing invasion. The\nimperial colleges still held their meetings on the eve of the revolution\nof Theodosius. Antiquarian nobles still discussed nice questions of ritual\nin the reign of Honorius. At the end of the fifth century the Lupercalia\nwere still celebrated with coarse, half-savage rites which went back to\nthe prehistoric times.(2809) The imperial policy, founded by Augustus, no\ndoubt inspired much of this conformity. But old Roman sentiment, the\npassion expressed with such moving eloquence by Symmachus, to feel himself\nin touch with a distant past(2810) through a chain of unbroken continuity,\nwas the great support of the State religion in the fourth century as in\nthe first. Yet, among the great nobles who were its last\nchampions\u2014Flavianus, Praetextatus, or Volusianus\u2014there was a spiritual\ncraving for which the religion provided little satisfaction. They sought\nit in the rites and mysteries of Eastern lands which had little in common\nwith the old Roman religious sentiment. In these alien rites they found a\nnew religious atmosphere. The priest, set apart from the world, with his\nlife-long obligations and the daily offices in the shrine, becomes in some\nway a minister to the spiritual life of his flock. Instead of cold\nceremonial observance, ecstatic emotion is aroused, often to a degree\nwhich was perilous to character. Through a series of sacraments, with\nascetic preparation for them, the votary rose under priestly guidance to\nsome vision of the eternal world, with a new conception of sin; this life\nand the next were linked in a moral sequence, with tremendous issues of\nendless beatitude or endless degradation. In a temple of Magna Mater,\nIsis, or Mithra in the reign of Julian, we are far away from the worship\nof the Lares and the offering of a heifer to Dea Dia in the grove on the\nTiber. We are travelling towards the spiritual mystery and sacramental\nconsolations of the mediaeval Church.\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAPTER IV\n\n\n                               MAGNA MATER\n\n\nThe earliest invader from the East of the sober decorum of old Roman\nreligion, and almost the last to succumb, was Magna Mater of Pessinus.\nThere is no pagan cult which S. Augustine, and many of the Fathers before\nhim, assail with such indignant contempt as hers.(2811) And indeed it was\nlong regarded with suspicion by old Romans of the cultivated class. For\ngenerations after her reception on the Palatine, no Roman was permitted to\nenter her official service. But there was something in that noisy and\nbloody ritual, and in the cruel, ascetic sacrifice of its devotees, which\nexercised an irresistible power over the imagination of the vulgar; and\neven Lucretius felt a certain imaginative awe of the tower-crowned figure\ndrawn by lions and adored by the cities of many lands.(2812) Varro, who\nprobably had no great love for the un-Roman ritual, found a place for the\nPhrygian goddess in his th\u00e9odic\u00e9e.(2813) Her baptism of blood in the\ntaurobolium was a rite of such strange enthralling influence that it\nneeded all the force of the Christian Empire to abolish it. And on many of\nthe last inscriptions of the fourth century the greatest names in the\nRoman aristocracy leave the record of their cleansing in the curious\nphrase _renatus in aeternum_.(2814) In his youth S. Augustine had seen\nprocessions of effeminate figures with dripping locks, painted faces, and\nsoft womanish bearing, passing along the streets of Carthage, and begging\nalms of the crowd. His horror at the memory of the scene probably springs\nalmost as much from the manly instincts of the Roman as from the\ndetestation of the Christian moralist for a debasing superstition.(2815)\n\nBut S. Augustine knew well the power of the superstition. For more than\n600 years the Great Mother had been enthroned on the Palatine; for more\nthan 300 years she had captivated the remotest provinces of the\nWest.(2816) In the terror of the Second Punic War, 204 B.C., she had been\nsummoned by solemn embassy from her original home at Pessinus in Galatia.\nIn obedience to a sibylline command, the Roman youth with purest hands,\ntogether with the Roman matrons, had welcomed her at Ostia.(2817) The ship\nwhich bore her up the Tiber,(2818) when it grounded on a shoal, had been\nsent forward on its way, to vindicate her calumniated virtue, by the touch\nof a virgin of the Claudian house.(2819) A decree of the Senate in 191\nB.C. had given the strange goddess a home on the Palatine, hard by the\nshrine of Apollo; and the great Megalesian festival in April was\nfounded.(2820) But the foreign character of the cult was long maintained.\nIt was a time when the passion for religious excitement was in the air,\nand when its excesses had to be restrained by all the forces of the State.\nNo Roman was permitted to accept the Phrygian priesthood for a century\nafter the coming of the Great Mother.(2821) But towards the end of the\nRepublic, the goddess had captured all imaginations, and her priests and\nsymbols meet us in all the poets of the great age.(2822) Augustus restored\nher temple; some of his freedmen were among her priests;(2823) Livia is\npictured with the crown of towers upon her brow.(2824) Then came a long\ninterval, till the death of Nero, during which the Phrygian goddess is\nhardly heard of.(2825) With the accession of the Flavians the eastern\ncults finally entered on a long and unchallenged reign. Vespasian restored\nthe temple of the Great Mother at Herculaneum, which had been thrown down\nby an earthquake.(2826) In the reign of Trajan her worship had penetrated\nto the Spanish peninsula,(2827) and she is found, along with other Eastern\ndeities, in the towns of the new province of Dacia.(2828) The first\nglimpses of the taurobolium appear before the middle of the second\ncentury, and the goddess figures on the coins of Antoninus Pius.(2829) A\ntaurobolium for that emperor was offered \u201cwith intention\u201d at Lyons in 160\nA.D.,(2830) and there are several dedications to Magna Mater in the same\nreign made by colleges of the _Dendrophori_ at Ostia.(2831) Tertullian\ntells how a high priest of Cybele vainly offered his blood for the safety\nof M. Aurelius, seven days after the Emperor had died in his quarters on\nthe Danube.(2832) It does not fall within the scope of our present inquiry\nto trace the immense popularity of the worship under the princes of the\nthird century. That was the period of the great triumph of the spiritual\npowers of the East. At the end of the fourth century the Great Mother and\nMithra were in the van of the pagan resistance to the religious revolution\nof Theodosius and his sons.(2833)\n\nThe worship of Cybele, coming from the same regions as the Trojan\nancestors of Rome, was at first a patrician cult.(2834) Members of the\nproudest houses bore a part in welcoming her to a place in the Roman\npantheon.(2835) Yet, as we have seen, Romans were for generations\nforbidden to enrol themselves among her effeminate priesthood. By a\ncurious contradiction of sentiment, people were fascinated by the ritual,\nwhile they despised the celebrants. The legend which was interpreted by\nStoic and Neoplatonist as full of physical or metaphysical meanings,(2836)\nhad also elements of human interest which appealed to the masses, always\neager for emotional excitement. The love of the Great Mother for a fair\nyouth, his unfaithfulness, and penitential self-mutilation under the\npine-tree; the passionate mourning for lost love, and then the restoration\nof the self-made victim, attended by a choir of priests for ever, who had\nmade the same cruel sacrifice(2837)\u2014all this, so alien to old Roman\nreligious sentiment, triumphed over it in the end by novelty and tragic\ninterest. The legend was developed into a drama, which, at the vernal\nfestival of the goddess, was produced with striking, if not artistic,\neffect. On the first day the Dendrophori bore the sacred tree, wreathed\nwith violets, to the temple. There was then a pause for a day, and, on the\nthird, the priests, with frantic gestures and dishevelled hair, abandoned\nthemselves to the wildest mourning, lacerating their arms and shoulders\nwith wounds, from which the blood flowed in torrents. Severe fasting\naccompanied these self-inflicted tortures. Then came a complete change of\nsensation. On the day called Hilaria the votaries gave themselves up to\necstasies of joy, to celebrate the restoration of Attis. On the last day\nof the festival a solemn procession took its way to the brook Almon, to\nbathe the goddess in its waters.(2838) The sacred stone, brought\noriginally from her home in Asia, and the most sacred symbol of the\nworship, wrapped in robes, was borne upon a car with chants and music, and\nthat gross, unabashed naturalism which so often shocks and surprises us in\npagan ritual till we trace it to its source.\n\nThe government long treated the cult of Cybele as a foreign worship.(2839)\nThe title of its great festival is Greek. Yet before the close of the\nRepublic, Romans are found enrolled in its priesthoods and sacred\ncolleges, and long lists of these official votaries can be gathered from\nthe inscriptions of the imperial period. The archigallus, or high priest,\nappears often on the Italian and provincial monuments. He is found at\nMerida, Capua, Ostia, and Lyons, in Numidia and Portugal.(2840) He must\nhave performed his part at many a taurobolium, crowned with laurel\nwreaths, wearing his mitre and ear-rings and armlets, with the image of\nAttis on his breast.(2841) The names of the ordinary priests abound, from\nthe freedman of the house of Augustus to the great nobles of the reign of\nTheodosius and Honorius.(2842) The priesthood was sometimes held for life,\nor for a long term of years. A priest at Salonae in Dalmatia had\npunctually performed the sacred offices for seventeen years.(2843) Women\nwere naturally admitted to the priesthood of a cult whose central interest\nwas a woman\u2019s love and grief. Sometimes they are lowly freedwomen with\nGreek names, sometimes they bear the proudest names in the Roman\naristocracy.(2844) The Dendrophori, who on festive days bore the sacred\ntree, formed a religious college, and their record appears on many\nmonuments of Italian and provincial towns\u2014Como, Ostia, and Cumae, Caesarea\n(Afr.), Valentia, and Lyons.(2845) Other colleges were the Cannophori and\nCernophori, the keepers of the mystic symbols.(2846) The chanters,\ndrummers, and cymbal players were indispensable at great ceremonial\nscenes, such as the taurobolium,(2847) and were arranged in graded ranks.\nOf a lower degree were the vergers and apparitors, who watched over the\nchapels of the goddess.(2848) And, lastly, there were the simple\nworshippers, who also formed themselves into guilds, with all the usual\nofficers of such corporations. This cult, like so many others, existed not\nonly for ceremonial rite, but for fellowship and social exhilaration, and,\nthrough its many gradations of religious privilege, it must have drawn\nvast numbers into the sacred service in the times of the Empire.\n\nBut the pages of Apuleius, and other authorities, show us that, beside the\nofficial clergy and collegiate members, there were, as happens to all\npopular religions, a mass of unlicensed camp followers and mere\ndisreputable vagrants, who used the name of the Great Mother to exploit\nthe ignorant devotion and religious excitability of the rustic folk. The\nromance of Apuleius, as Dr. Mahaffy has suggested, is probably derived\nfrom earlier sources, and dressed up to titillate the prurient tastes of a\ndegraded society.(2849) Yet its pictures of country life in Thessaly,\nalthough they may not be always locally accurate, can hardly be purely\nimaginative. The scenes may not be always Thessalian, but that they are in\nthe main true pictures of country life in the Antonine age may be proved\nfrom other authorities. Apuleius was too careful an artist to sever\nhimself altogether from the actual life of his time. And what a picture it\nis! The air positively thrills with daemonic terror and power. Witches and\nlewd sorceresses abound; the solitary inn has its weird seductions; the\nlonely country cottage has its tragedy of lawless love or of chaste\ndevotion to the dead. Brigands in mountain fastnesses divide their\nfar-gathered spoil, and hold debate on plans of future lawless adventure.\nMountain solitudes, and lonely villages or castles among the woods, are\naroused by the yelping hounds, who start the boar from his lair, while the\nfaithless traitor places his friend at its mercy. We meet the travelling\ncheese merchant, and the noble exile on his way to Zacynthus. We watch the\nraid on the banker\u2019s house at Thebes, and the peasants setting their dogs\non the passing traveller; the insolence of the wandering legionary; the\nhorrors of the slave prison, with its wasted, starved, and branded forms;\nthe amours of buxom wives, and the comic concealment or discovery of\nlovers, in the manner of Boccaccio. It is only too certain that the\nvileness and superstition which Apuleius has depicted may easily find a\nparallel on the Roman stage, or in the pages of Martial.\n\nIn all this social panorama, romantic, amusing, or disgusting, there is no\nmore repulsive, and probably no truer scene than that in which the\nwandering priests of the Syrian goddess appear. That deity, like many\nothers of Eastern origin, was often identified with the Great Mother.\nApuleius probably confounded them; the rites of their worships were often\nthe same, and the picture in Apuleius may be taken to represent the orgies\nof many a wandering troop of professed devotees of the Great Mother in the\nage of the Antonines.(2850) The leader is an old eunuch, with wild\nstraggling locks\u2014a man of the foulest morals, carrying about with him an\nimage of the goddess, and levying alms from the superstition of the\nrustics. He is attended by a crew worthy of him, wretches defiled with all\nthe worst vices of the ancient world, and shamelessly parading their\ndegradation. But they combine a shrewd eye to business with this wild\nlicence. They know all the arts to catch the fancy of the mob of clowns,\nwhose grey dull lives and inbred superstition make them eager for any\ndisplay which will intoxicate them with the novelty of a violent\nsensation. These people are on that level where lust and the passion for\nblood and suffering readily league themselves with religious excitement.\nAfter a night of moral horrors, the foul brotherhood go forth in various\ncostume to win the largesses of the countryside. With painted cheeks and\nrobes of white or yellow, crossed with purple stripes, their arms bared to\nthe shoulder, and carrying swords or axes, they dance along wildly to the\nsound of the flute.(2851) With obscene gesticulation and discordant\nshrieks they madly bite their arms or lacerate them with knives. One of\nthe band, as if seized with special inspiration, heaving and panting under\nthe foul afflatus, shrieks out the confession of some sin against the holy\nrites, and claims the penalty from his own hands.(2852) With hard knotted\nscourge he belabours himself, while the blood flows in torrents. At last\nthe cruel frenzy exhausts itself, and obtains its reward in the offerings\nof the spectators. Fine flour and cheese, milk and wine, coins of copper\nand silver, are eagerly showered upon the impostors, and as eagerly\ngathered in.(2853) Surprised in frightful orgies of vice, the scoundrels\nhave at last to retreat before the outraged moral sense of the villagers.\nThey decamp during the night, and on the morrow once more find comfortable\nquarters in the house of a leading citizen who is devoted to the service\nof the gods, and blind to the imposture of their professing\nministers.(2854)\n\nThe episode in Apuleius suggests some curious questions as to the moral\neffect of these emotional cults. That in their early stages they had no\nelevating moral influence,\u2014nay, that their votaries might combine a strict\nconformity to rite with great looseness of life,\u2014is only too certain. The\nDelias and Cynthias of the poets, who kept the fasts of Isis, were\nassuredly not models of virtue. The assumption of the tonsure and linen\nhabit by a debauchee like Commodus does not reassure us. Yet princes of\nhigh character in the second and the third centuries lent the countenance\nof imperial power to the worships of the East.(2855) And the Mother of the\nGods found her last and most gallant defenders among great nobles of high\nrepute and sincere pagan piety in the last years of heathenism in the\nWest. It was a strange transformation. Yet the problem is not perhaps\ninsoluble. A religion may deteriorate as its authority over society\nbecomes more assured with age. But, in times of moral renovation, and in\nthe face of powerful spiritual rivalries, a religion may purge itself of\nthe impurities of youth. Religious systems may also be elevated by the\ngrowing moral refinement of the society to which they minister. It is only\nthus that we can explain the undoubted fact that the Phrygian and Egyptian\nworships, originally tainted with the grossness of naturalism, became\nvehicles of a warm religious emotion, and provided a stimulus to a higher\nlife. The idealism of humanity, by a strange alchemy, can marvellously\ntransform the most unpromising materials. And he would make a grave\nmistake who should treat the Isis and Osiris, the Mater Deum or the Attis,\nof the reign of Augustus as representing the same ideals in the reign of\nGratian. But these Eastern cults contained a germ, even in their earliest\ndays, of their great future development and power. The old religion of\nLatium, along with much that was sound and grave and fortifying to\ncharacter, was also hard and cold and ceremonial. It could mould and\nconsecrate a militant and conquering state; it did little to satisfy the\ncraving for moral regeneration or communion with a Higher Power. It could\nnot appease the sense of error and frailty by ghostly comfort and\nsacramental absolution. It was, moreover, wanting in that warmth of\ninterest and sympathy, linking the human and Divine, which has helped to\nmake Christianity the religion of Western civilisation, and which in a\nfeeble adumbration made the paganism of the East a momentary rival of the\nChurch. These Eastern cults, often originating in gross symbolism of the\nalternations and recurring processes of nature,(2856) often arousing a\ndangerous excitability and an unregulated emotion, yet contained the germ\nof a religious spirit far more akin to ours than the old austere Latin\ncreed. A divine death and restoration, the alternation of joy and sorrow\nat a divine event, instinct with human interest, calming expiation and\ncleansing from the sins which burdened the conscience,\u2014above all, the hope\nof a coming life, stamped on the imagination by symbol and\nspectacle,\u2014these were the elements which, operating on imperious religious\nyearnings, gave a fresh life to paganism, and prepared or deferred the\nvictory of the Church. The religion of the Great Mother seems at first\nsight to offer the poorest promise of any moral message or spiritual\nsupport. It expressed at first the feelings of rude rustics at the\nrecurring mortality and resurrection of material life in the order of the\nseasons. The element of human feeling which it contained was grossly\nexpressed in bloody rites of mutilation. This cult was often defiled and\ndisgraced by a crew of effeminate and lustful impostors. Yet the\nThessalian villagers in Apuleius, who chased these vagabonds from their\nfields, evidently expected something better from them. They despised the\nfoul hypocrites, but they did not cease to believe in their religion. The\nspiritual instinct of humanity triumphed, as it has so often done, over\nthe vices of a historical system, extracted the good in it, rejected the\nevil, and made it an organ of some sort of spiritual life. Thus the Great\nMother became the Mother of all, enthroned beside the Father of gods and\nmen. She wears the chaste honours of the Virgin Goddess. Attis and her\nlove for Attis are similarly transformed. In the syncretism of the age,\nwhich strove to gather up all the forces of heathenism and make them\nconverge towards a spiritual unity, Magna Mater and Attis leagued their\nforces with the conquering Mithra.(2857) In the taurobolium there was\ndeveloped a ritual, in which, coarse and materialistic as it was, paganism\nmade, in however imperfect form, its nearest approach to the religion of\nthe Cross.\n\nThe greatest and most impressive rite in the worship of Cybele was the\ntaurobolium. There was none which so excited the suspicion and indignation\nof the Christian apologists, from Tertullian to Prudentius, because in its\nceremony of the cleansing blood, and in its supposed effects in moral\nregeneration and remission of sins, it seemed invented by the ingenuity of\ndaemons to be a travesty of the sacrifice on Calvary.(2858) It is possible\nthat the last champions of the ancient cults may have had some such\ndefiant purpose when they inscribed, in the record of their cleansing, the\nwords \u201c_in aeternum renatus_.\u201d But in its origin there can be no doubt\nthat the rite was purely heathen. Its appearance in the Phrygian\nceremonial is comparatively late. The worship of Magna Mater was\nessentially an orgiastic cult, and theologically arid. But the syncretism\nof the second and third centuries came to its support. And the worships of\nPersia, Syria, and Phrygia were ready to coalesce, and to borrow from one\nanother symbols and doctrines which gave satisfaction to the spiritual\nwants of the time. The taurobolium, with its ideas of cleansing and\nimmortality, passed in the Antonine age from the worship of Anaitis of\nCappadocia to the worship of Magna Mater, and gave the Great Mother a new\nhold upon the religious consciousness. In the earlier votive tablets the\nname of the rite is _tauropolium_. Anaitis had been identified with the\nArtemis Tauropolus of Brauron, whose legend, by popular etymology, came to\nbe identified, as Milesian exploration spread in the Euxine, with the cult\nof the cruel goddess of the Tauric Chersonese.(2859) And by another\netymological freak and the change of a letter, we arrive at the\nbull-slaughtering rite of the later Empire. Whether the taurobolium ever\nbecame part of the service of Mithra is a disputed point.(2860) Certainly\nthe syncretistic tendency of the age, the fact that the most popular\nMithraist symbol was the slaying of the mystic bull, and the record of the\ntaurobolium on so many inscriptions dedicated to Mithra, would prepare us\nfor the conclusion that the rite was in the end common to the Persian and\nthe Phrygian deities. Whatever may be the truth on this point, the two\nworships, in the last ages of heathenism in the West, were close allies.\nAttis tended more and more to become a solar deity in the age which\nculminated in the sun-worship of Julian.(2861) Heliolatry, the last refuge\nof monotheism in heathendom, which refused to accept the religion of\nGalilee, swept all the great worships of strong vitality into its system,\nsoftened their differences, accentuated their similarities, by every\neffort of fancy, false science, or reckless etymology, and in the end,\n\u201cSol invictus\u201d and Mithra were left masters of the field. But Magna Mater,\nhowever originally unworthy, shared in the victory. If she could lend the\nsupport of an accredited clergy, recognised for ages by the State, and the\nimpressive rite of the bloody baptism, Mithra, on the other hand, had a\nmoral and spiritual message, an assurance of a future life, and an\nenthralling force of mystic and sacramental communion, which made his\nalliance even more valuable. The Great Mother, indeed, admitted women to\nthe ranks of her clergy, while the rites of Mithra probably excluded\nthem.(2862) And thus a Fabia Aconia Paulina, while her husband, Vettius\nAgorius Praetextatus, could inscribe himself \u201cpater patrum,\u201d had no\nMithraist grade which she could place beside her consecration to Hecate\nand the Eleusinian goddesses.(2863) But the pair were united in the\nsacrament of the taurobolium. And the Great Mother probably never had\npurer or sincerer devotees.\n\nWhen the taurobolium was first introduced into the West is\nuncertain.(2864) The earliest monument belongs to A.D. 134 in the reign of\nHadrian, when the ceremony seems to be connected with the Celestial Venus.\nThe most famous inscription, which connects the rite with the Great\nMother, is of the year 160 A.D., when one L. Aemilius Carpus, an\nAugustalis, and a member of the college of the Dendrophori at Lyons, had\nthe ceremony performed \u201cfor the safety\u201d of Antoninus Pius and the imperial\nhouse.(2865) The rite was celebrated at the command of the goddess, or on\nthe inspired advice of the priest.(2866) It took place generally in early\nspring, and was often prolonged over three or four days.(2867) It was a\ncostly rite, and the expense was sometimes borne by the community, who\nmade an offertory for the purpose.(2868) The ceremony was superintended by\nthe xvviri, and attended by a great concourse of the people, with the\nmagistrates at their head. It is needless to describe again the scene, so\nwell known from the verses of Prudentius, in which the consecrated bull is\nwith solemn forms slaughtered on a high-raised platform, and bathes with\nthe streams of his blood the votary placed in a trench below.(2869) The\nrite was believed to impart some sort of strength and purification, the\neffect of which lasted for twenty years, when the sacrament was often\nrenewed. It was, as we have seen, sometimes performed \u201cwith intention,\u201d\nfor the reigning emperor and his house,(2870) and furnishes another\nexample of the manner in which religion was employed to buttress the power\nof the Caesars. A considerable number of monuments in Italy and the\nprovinces commemorate, in a phrase perhaps borrowed from the Church, the\ngratitude of one \u201cborn again to eternal life.\u201d It is probable that the\ncoarse ritual often expressed only an external and materialistic\nconception of religious influence. On the other hand, following upon, or\nclosely connected with initiation into the mysteries of Mithra, it may\neasily have become a symbol of moral and spiritual truth, or at any rate a\nrecord of moral aspiration.\n\nFor, indeed, in the syncretism and monotheistic drift of the age, the more\npowerful worships lost the hardness of their original lines and tended to\nabsorption and assimilation. There was little strife or repulsion among\nthese cults; they borrowed freely legends and ritual practice from one\nanother; even characteristic insignia were interchanged. The legend and\ntone of the Cybele worship naturally linked her with others sprung from\nthe same region, such as the Syrian goddess, Celestial Venus, and\nBellona.(2871) Fanaticism, self-mutilation, expiation by blood, were the\ncommon bond between them. The fierce goddess of Cappadocia, who had\nvisited Sulla in a dream, was probably first introduced to Roman devotion\nin his time. Her dark-robed priests and priestesses were familiar figures\nin the Augustan age, gashing themselves like the Galli of Magna Mater,\ncatching the blood in shields, and dashing it over their train of\nfollowers who believed in its powers of expiation. But Magna Mater, as her\nname promises, assumed a milder character, and was identified sometimes\nwith Maia, Ops, and Minerva; sometimes with Demeter, Bona Dea, and Fauna,\nas Attis was identified with Hercules.(2872) In the last age the great\ngoddess became the universal Mother, full of tenderness and grace, and\ngiving peace through her cleansing rites. Hers is, along with the cults of\nIsis and Mithra, which will next claim our attention, an example of the\nprocess of Divine evolution, by which, in the painful progress of\nhumanity, the crude efforts of religious symbolism are purged and\nelevated. It is an example of the way in which the human spirit, refusing\nto break with its past, sometimes succeeds, if only for a time, in putting\nnew wine into old bottles.\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAPTER V\n\n\n                             ISIS AND SERAPIS\n\n\nThe worship of Isis and Serapis, reckoning from the day when it\nestablished itself in the port of Athens, had a reign of more than seven\ncenturies over the peoples of Europe. Its influence in the western\nprovinces of the Empire and in the capital may be roughly said to cover a\nperiod of 500 years. It was not, indeed, the old native worship of the\nvalley of the Nile which won such an empire over cultivated intellects\nfrom Chaeronea to the Thames. The ancient Egyptian worship underwent vast\ntransformations in the crucible of all creeds at Alexandria. It was\ncaptured and utilised for political purposes by the Ptolemies.(2873) It\nwas linked with the most spiritual forces of Hellenic piety at Eleusis and\nDelphi;(2874) it was transformed by the subtle syncretism of later Greek\nphilosophy; and, through the secretaries of embassies, and the Egyptian\nslaves and merchants who poured into the ports of southern Italy in the\nsecond century B.C., it stole or forced itself into the chapels of great\nhouses at Rome, till, in the end, emperors were proud to receive its\ntonsure, to walk in the processions, and to build and adorn Egyptian\ntemples.(2875)\n\nThe Isiac worship had conquered the Greek world before it became a power\nin Italy. In the fourth century B.C. traders from the Nile had their\ntemple of Isis at the Peiraeus;(2876) in the third century the worship had\nbeen admitted within the walls of Athens.(2877) About the same time the\ngoddess had found a home at Ceos, and Delos, at Smyrna and Halicarnassus,\nand on the coasts of Thrace.(2878) She was a familiar deity at Orchomenus\nand Chaeronea for generations before Plutarch found in her legends a\ncongenial field for the exposition of his concordat between philosophy and\nmyth. Nor need we wonder at his choice of the Egyptian cults. For the Isis\nand Osiris of Greek and Italian lands were very different objects of\ndevotion from the gods who bore those names in Egyptian legend.(2879) From\nthe seventh century B.C. Greeks from the Asiatic coast had been securely\nsettled at the mouth of the Nile.(2880) Greek mercenaries had served in\nthe Egyptian armies in the southern deserts; and Greek half-breeds had\nlong amused and cajoled travellers from Miletus or Halicarnassus, as\ninterpreters and guides to the scenes of immemorial interest. When\nHerodotus visited the country, the identity of Greek and Egyptian gods was\na long accepted fact.(2881) From the fifth century B.C. the Egyptian\nTrinity of Isis, Osiris, and Horus had found counterparts in Demeter,\nDionysus, and Apollo. The campaign of the Athenian fleet in 460 probably\nhastened and confirmed the process of syncretism,(2882) and crowds of\ntravellers, steeped in Orphic and Pythagorean mysticism, returned from the\nvalley of the Nile to spread the doctrine of a common faith. After the\nfoundation of Alexandria the theory became a propaganda. The first Ptolemy\nstrove to unite the two races under his sway by an eclecticism of which\nAlexandria was the focus for seven centuries. He found skilful allies in\nManetho, the Egyptian priest who had written a treatise on the inner\nmeaning of the myths, and in Timotheus, a scion of the Eumolpidae of\nEleusis.(2883) The Orphic and Dionysiac mysticism was leagued with the\nIsiac worship. The legend of Egypt was recast. A new deity was introduced,\nwho was destined to have a great future in all lands under the Roman sway.\nThe origin of Serapis is still a mystery(2884) and the latest critic may\nhave to acquiesce in the confused or balanced judgment of Tacitus.(2885)\nEgyptian archaeologists claimed him as indigenous at Rhacotis or Memphis,\nand construed his name as a compound of Osiris and that of his earthly\nincarnation, the bull Apis.(2886) The more popular tale was that the first\nPtolemy, after repeated visions of the night, sent envoys to bring him\nfrom Sinope, where he was identified with Pluto, god of the under world.\nOther traditions connected him with Seleucia in Cappadocia, or with\nBabylon.(2887) It may be that a false etymology, confounding a hill near\nMemphis with the name of Sinope, was the source of the tale in\nTacitus.(2888) However this may be, Serapis takes the place of Osiris;\nthey never appear together in inscriptions. The infant Horus received the\nGreek sounding name Harpocrates, and Serapis, Isis, and Harpocrates became\nthe Egyptian Trinity for Graeco-Roman Society. Anubis, the minister of the\nTrinity, was easily identified with Hermes, \u201cthe conductor of souls\u201d in\nGreek legend.\n\nSyncretism and mysticism were great forces at Eleusis, from which\nPtolemy\u2019s adviser Timotheus came. And there all interest centred in the\nfuture life, and in preparation for it by sacerdotal ritual and moral\ndiscipline. The Orphic and Pythagorean mysticism which traced itself to\nEgypt or the remoter East, returned to its sources, to aid in moulding the\ncults of Egypt into a worship for the world. A crowd of ingenious\ntheologians set to work, by means of physical explanation, wild etymology,\nand fanciful analogies, to complete the syncretism. And the final results\nof their efforts, preserved in the famous treatise of Plutarch on Isis, is\na trinitarian monotheism, with an original dualism of the good and evil\nprinciples.(2889) But the idea of God, although limited in one sense by\nthe recognition of a co-ordinate evil power, tends on the other to become\nmore all-embracing. Serapis is constantly linked with Jupiter and Sol\nInvictus in the inscriptions.(2890) In the orations of Aristides he\nbecomes the centre of the universe.(2891) Isis of the \u201cmyriad names\u201d tends\nto absorb all other deities, and was addressed by her votaries as \u201cThou\nwho art all.\u201d(2892) The Isis of the dream of Lucius in Apuleius is the\nuniversal mother, creator of all things, queen of the world of shades,\nfirst of the inhabitants of heaven, in whom all gods have their unchanging\ntype.(2893) She is also pre-eminently the power who can cleanse and\ncomfort, and impart the hope of the life everlasting.\n\nThe Isiac worship arrived in Italy probably through the ports of Campania.\nPuteoli, in particular, was the great entrep\u00f4t for the trade with\nAlexandria. Foreign merchants, sailors, and slaves were arriving there\nevery day, and, in the century between 204 and 100 B.C., more than ten\nembassies passed between the Ptolemies and the Roman Senate, with a crowd\nof secretaries and servants attached to them.(2894) There was probably a\ntemple of Serapis at Puteoli as early as 150 B.C., and the old temple of\nIsis at Pompeii, which was thrown down by the earthquake of 63 A.D., may\nprobably be referred to the year 105 B.C.(2895) But the erection of\ntemples must have been preceded by a period of less formal and more\nobscure worship, and we may perhaps conclude that Isis had established\nherself in Southern Italy, at all events early in the second century B.C.\nThus, although it was generations before the worship won its way, in the\nface of fierce persecution, to an assured place at Rome, its first\nappearance coincides with the decay of the old religion, the religious\nexcitement in the beginning of the second century B.C., and the immense\npopular craving for a more emotional form of worship.\n\nThe years at the end of the third and the beginning of the second century\nB.C. were in Italy years of strange religious excitement. In 204 the great\ngoddess was brought from Pessinus.(2896) In 186 the decree for the\nsuppression of the Bacchanalian scandal was passed.(2897) Magna Graecia\nand Etruria were the first points assailed by the invasion of the\norgiastic rites. But they soon crept into the capital, with results which\nalarmed and shocked old Roman sentiment. At first, an appearance of\nasceticism disguised the danger. But the rites soon gave an opportunity\nfor the wildest licence and for political intrigue. 7000 men and women\nwere found to be implicated, in one way or another, in the movement.(2898)\nWithin five years after the great scandal, the apocryphal books of Numa\nwere unearthed in the grounds of Cn. Terentius on the Janiculum. The\nforgery was soon detected, and they were burnt publicly in the Comitium by\nthe praetor L. Petilius.(2899) But it was a suspicious circumstance that\nthe rolls were of Egyptian papyrus, which had been till then unknown to\nthe Roman world, and that they contained the dogmas of a Pythagorean lore\nwhich was equally strange. It is almost certain that, in the same years in\nwhich the Dionysiac fanaticism arrived at Ostia, the Egyptian cults had\nbeen brought by merchants and sailors to Puteoli. Osiris and Dionysus had\nlong been identified by the Alexandrian theologians; both were the patrons\nof mystic rites which, in their form and essence, had much in common, and\nthe Pythagorean system, combining so many influences of philosophy and\nreligion in the East and West, was the natural sponsor of the new\nworships. It was perhaps some eclectic Alexandrian, half Platonist, half\nBuddhist, devoted to the Isiac worship, yet ready to connect it with the\nDionysiac legends of Delphi, Cithaeron, and Eleusis, who penned the secret\nscrolls, and buried them in the garden on the Janiculum. The movement was\nsetting in which, so often repulsed by the force of government and\nconservative feeling, was destined to have enormous influence over the\nlast three centuries of paganism in the West.\n\nIt has been plausibly suggested that the ease and completeness with which\nthe Bacchanalian movement was suppressed in 186 B.C. was due to the\ndiversion of religious interest to the Egyptian mysteries. The cult of\nIsis had indeed very various attractions for different minds. But for the\nmasses, slaves, freedmen, and poor working people, its great fascination\nlay in the pomp of its ritual, and the passionate emotion aroused by the\nmourning for the dead Osiris, and his joyful restoration. It is this\naspect of the worship which is assailed and ridiculed by the Christian\napologists of the reign of Alexander Severus and of the reign of\nConstantine.(2900) The goddess, one of whose special functions was the\ncare of mothers in childbirth, appealed especially to female sensibility.\nAs in the cult of Magna Mater, women had a prominent place in her services\nand processions, and records of these sacred dignities appear on the\nmonuments of great Roman ladies down to the end of the Western Empire. The\nhistory of the Isiac cult at Rome from Sulla to Nero is really the history\nof a great popular religious movement in conflict with a reactionary\nconservatism, of cosmopolitan feeling arrayed against old Roman sentiment.\n\nIt is significant of the popularity of Isis that the reactionary Sulla,\nwho restored the election of chief pontiff to the sacred college, was\nforced to recognise the Isiac guild of the Pastophori in 80 B.C.(2901)\nFour times in the decade 58-48 B.C., the fierce struggle was renewed\nbetween the government and those who wished to place Isis beside the\nancient gods; and in the year 50 B.C. the consul, when unable to find a\nworkman to lay hands upon her shrine, had to unrobe and use the axe\nhimself.(2902) The victory of conservatism was only temporary and\napparent. Within five years from the renewed fierce demolition of 48\nB.C.,(2903) the white robe and tonsure and the mask of Anubis must have\nbeen a common sight in the streets, when the aedile M. Volusius, one of\nthose proscribed by the triumvirs, was able to make his escape easily in\nthis disguise.(2904) The influence of Cleopatra over Julius Caesar\novercame his own prejudices and probably hastened the triumph of the\npopular cult. The triumvirs had to conciliate public feeling by erecting a\ntemple of Isis in 42 B.C.(2905) Priestesses and devotees of Isis are\nhenceforth found among the freedwomen of great houses and the mistresses\nof men of letters of the Augustan age.(2906) And, although the reaction\nfollowing upon the battle of Actium, in which the gods of Latium and the\nNile were arrayed against one another,(2907) banished Isis for a time\nbeyond the pomoerium,(2908) the devotion of the masses to her seems never\nto have slackened, and her tonsured, white stoled priests were to be seen\neverywhere. In the reign of Tiberius a serious blow fell on the Eastern\nworships. According to Josephus, a great lady named Paulina, was, with the\ncollusion of the priest, seduced in an Isiac temple by a libertine lover\nin the guise of Anubis, and the crime was sternly punished by the\nemperor.(2909) Tacitus and Suetonius seem to be ignorant of this\nparticular scandal, but they record the wholesale banishment to Sardinia\nof persons of the freedmen class, who were infected with Judaic or\nEgyptian superstition. In the grotto of Cagliari there is to be seen the\nrecord of an obscure romance and tragedy which may have been connected\nwith this persecution. Atilia Pomptilla, who bore also the significant\nname of Benedicta, in some great calamity had followed her husband Cassius\nPhilippus into exile. Their union had lasted for two-and-forty years when\nthe husband was stricken with disease in that deadly climate. Like another\nAlcestis, Atilia by her vows and devotion offered her life for his. The\nhusband repaid the debt in these inscriptions, and the pair lie united in\ndeath under the sculptured serpent of the goddess whom they probably\nworshipped.(2910)\n\nThenceforth under the emperors Isis met with but little opposition.\nClaudius struck hard at the Jewish and Druidic rites, but on the other\nhand he was ready to transport those of Eleusis to Rome.(2911) He was\nprobably equally tolerant to the rites of Egypt. And in his reign\ndedications were made to Isis by freedmen of great consular houses.(2912)\nNero despised all religions except that of the Syrian goddess; yet Isis\nhad probably little to fear from a prince who had been touched by the\ncharm and mystery of the East, and who at the last would have accepted the\nprefecture of Egypt.(2913) Otho was, however, the first Roman emperor who\nopenly took part in the Egyptian rites.(2914) The Flavians had all come\nunder the spell of Eastern superstition. Vespasian had had a solitary\nvigil in the temple of Serapis; in obedience to a dream from the god he\nhad consented to perform miracles of healing.(2915) In the fierce civil\nstrife of 69 A.D., when the Capitol was stormed and burnt by the\nVitellians, the service of Isis was actually going on, and Domitian,\ndisguised in her sacred vestments, escaped among the crowd of priests and\nacolytes.(2916) He repaid the debt by rebuilding the temple of Isis in the\nCampus Martius, in 92 A.D., on a magnificent scale.(2917) The sarcasms of\nJuvenal on the \u201cshaven, linen-clad herd,\u201d and the pious austerities of\nfemale worshippers of Isis, reveal the powerful hold which the goddess had\nobtained in his day, even on the frivolous and self-indulgent. Hadrian, of\ncourse, had the gods of the Nile in the Canopus of his cosmopolitan villa\nat Tibur.(2918) Commodus walked in procession with shaven head and an\nimage of Anubis in his arms.(2919) The triumph of Isis in the Antonine age\nwas complete.\n\nThe Serapeum at Alexandria was to the Egyptian cult what the Temple was to\nthe religion of Israel.(2920) And the world-wide trade and far-spreading\ninfluence of what was then the second city in the Empire might have given\na wide diffusion even to a religion less adapted to satisfy the spiritual\nwants of the time. Slaves and freedmen were always the most ardent\nadherents and apostles of foreign rites. Names of persons of this class\nappear on many monuments as holders of Isiac office or liberal\nbenefactors. A little brotherhood of household slaves at Valentia in Spain\nwere united in the worship.(2921) Petty traders from Alexandria swarmed in\nthe ports of the Mediterranean, and especially in those of Campania, and\nnear the Nolan gate of Pompeii the humble tombs of a little colony of\nthese emigrants have been discovered.(2922) The sailors and officers of\nthe corn fleets from Africa also helped to spread the fame of Isis and\nOsiris. In the reign of Septimius Severus, their chief officer, C.\nValerius Serenus, was neocorus of Serapis.(2923) Alexandria also sent\nforth a crowd of artists, philosophers, and savants to the West. Several\nmen of Egyptian origin filled high places in the imperial household, as\nlibrarians or secretaries in the first and second centuries. Chaeremon,\nwho had been librarian at Alexandria, and who had composed a theological\ntreatise on Isis and Osiris, became Nero\u2019s tutor.(2924) Chaeremon\u2019s pupil,\nDionysius, was librarian and imperial secretary in the reign of Trajan.\nAnd Julius Vestinus, who held these offices under Hadrian, is described in\nan inscription as chief pontiff of Egypt and Alexandria,\u2014a combination of\ndignities which probably enabled him to throw his powerful protection\naround the Isiac rites at Rome.(2925) An influence so securely seated on\nthe Palatine was sure to extend to the remotest parts of the Empire. If\nIsis could defy all the force of the Republican Government, what might she\nnot do when emperors were enrolled in her priesthood, and imperial\nministers, in correspondence with every prefecture from Britain to the\nEuphrates, were steeped in her mystic lore?\n\nAlready in Nero\u2019s reign, Lucan could speak of Isis and Osiris as not only\nwelcomed in the shrines of Rome, but as deities of all the world.(2926)\nPlutarch and Lucian, from very different points of view, are witnesses to\nthe same world-wide movement. The judgment will be confirmed by even a\ncasual inspection of the religious records of the inscriptions. Although\nIsis and Serapis were not peculiarly soldiers\u2019 gods, like Mithra and\nBellona, yet they had many votaries among the legions on distant\nfrontiers. A legate of the Legion Tertia Augusta, who was probably of\nEgyptian birth, introduced the rites into the camp of Lambaesis, and a\ntemple to Isis and Serapis was built by the labour of many pious hands\namong his soldiers.(2927) Serapis appears often on the African monuments,\nsometimes leagued or identified with Jupiter or Pluto.(2928) In Dacia and\nPannonia the cults of Egypt were probably not as popular as that of\nMithra, but they have left traces in all the great centres of\npopulation.(2929) In several inscriptions(2930) Isis is called by a native\nname such as Noreia, and we find on others the instructive blending of the\nstrata of four mythologies. Tacitus thought he had discovered the\ncounterpart of Isis in the forests of Germany.(2931) She is certainly\nfound in Holland, and at Cologne.(2932) Officers of the sixth Legion\nworshipped her at York.(2933) French antiquaries have followed the traces\nof the Egyptian gods in nearly all the old places of importance in their\nown country, at Fr\u00e9jus, N\u00eemes, and Arles, at Lyons, Clermont, and\nSoissons.(2934) Shrines of Isis have been explored in Switzerland and at\nthe German spas.(2935) The scenes which were so common at Rome or Pompeii\nor Corinth, the procession of shaven, white-robed priests and acolytes,\nmarching to the sound of chants and barbaric music, with the sacred images\nand symbols of a worship which had been cradled on the Nile ages before\nthe time of Romulus, and transmuted by the eclectic subtlety of Platonic\ntheologians into a cosmopolitan religion, were reproduced in remote\nvillages on the edge of the Sahara and the Atlantic, in the valleys of the\nAlps or the Yorkshire dales.\n\nWhat was the secret of this power and fascination in the religion of a\nrace whose cult of the dog and cat had so often moved the ridicule of the\nsatirist and comic poet? No single answer can be given to that question.\nThe great power of Isis \u201cof myriad names\u201d was that, transfigured by Greek\ninfluences, she appealed to many orders of intellect, and satisfied many\nreligious needs or fancies. To the philosopher her legends furnished\nabundant material for the conciliation of religion and pseudo-science, for\nthe translation of myth into ancient cosmic theory, or for the absorption\nof troublesome mythologies into a system which perhaps tended more than\nany other, except that of Mithra, to the Platonic idea of the unity of\nGod. The mystic who dreamt of an ecstasy of divine communion, in which the\nlimits of sense and personality might be left behind in a vague rapture of\nimaginative emotion, found in the spectacle of her inner shrine a strange\npower far surpassing the most transporting effects of Eleusis. Women\nespecially saw in the divine mother and mourner a glorified type of their\nsex, in all its troubles and its tenderness, such as their daughters in\ncoming ages were destined to find in the Virgin Mother.(2936) The ascetic\nimpulse, which has seldom been far from the deepest religious feeling,\nderived comfort and the sense of atonement in penitential abstinence and\npreparation for the holy mysteries. The common mass, who are affected\nchiefly by the externals of a religion, had their wants amply gratified in\nthe pomp and solemnity of morning sacrifice and vespers, in those\nmany-coloured processions, such as that which bore in spring-time the\nsacred vessel to the shore, with the sound of hymn and litany.(2937) And\nin an age when men were everywhere banding themselves together in clubs\nand colleges for mutual help and comfort, the sacred guilds of Isis had\nevidently an immense influence. That evil, as in nearly all heathen\nworships, often lurked under her solemn forms cannot be denied, though\nthere was also groundless calumny.(2938) Yet there must have been some\nstrange power in a religion which could for a moment lift a sensualist\nimagination like that of Apuleius almost to the height and purity of\nEckhart and Tauler.(2939)\n\nThe triumph of Isis and Serapis in the Western world is an instructive\nepisode in the history of religion. It is, like that of Mithra, a curious\nexample of the union of conservative feeling with a purifying and\ntransforming influence of the growing moral sense. A religion has a double\nstrength and fascination which has a venerable past behind it. The ancient\nsymbolism may be the creation of an age of gross conceptions of the\nDivine, it may be even grotesque and repulsive, at first sight, to the\nmore refined spiritual sense of an advanced moral culture. Yet the\nreligious instinct will always strive to maintain its continuity with the\npast, however it may transfigure the legacy of ruder ages. Just as\nChristian theologians long found anticipations of the Gospel among\npatriarchs and warrior kings of Israel, so pagan theologians like Plutarch\nor Aristides could discover in the cults of Egypt all their highest cosmic\ntheories, and satisfaction for all their spiritual wants.(2940) With\nunwavering faith, Plutarch and his kind believed that under all the coarse\nmythic fancy of early ages there was veiled a profound insight into the\nsecrets of nature and the spiritual needs of humanity. The land of the\nNile, with its charm of immemorial antiquity, was long believed to have\nbeen the cradle of all that was best and deepest in the philosophic or\nreligious thought of Hellas. The gods of the classic pantheon were\nidentified with the gods of Egypt.(2941) Pythagoras and the Orphic mystics\nhad derived their inspiration from the same source.(2942) The conquests of\nAlexander and the foundation of Alexandria had drawn to a focus the\nphilosophical or the religious ideas of East and West, of India,\nPalestine, Persia, and Greece. At Alexandria were blended and transformed\nall the philosophies and mythologies by the subtle dialectic of Greece.\nThe animal cult of Egypt, indeed, was always a stumbling-block to Greek\nand Roman.(2943) It moved the contempt and ridicule of comedian and\nsatirist.(2944) It was an easy mark for the sneers of the crowd. Yet even\nthe divinised dog or ibis could find skilful, if not convinced, defenders\namong the Greek eclectics, who lent all the forces of Hellenic ingenuity\nto the cause of antiquarianism in religion.(2945) Their native mythology\nwas not without traces of zoolatry. Their own god of healing, who became\nso popular in all lands, was always connected in art and legend with the\nserpent. The serpent of the Acropolis, which daily ate the holy wafer, was\nthe immemorial companion of the tutelary goddess of Athens.(2946) Had not\nZeus, in his many amours, found an easy access to the fair victims of his\nlove in animal forms? The Divine virtues are only faintly imaged in\nanimals which have their uses in the world. If all religion is only\nsymbolism, why should not the multiform beneficence of the unseen Powers\nbe expressed in the form of creatures who give their service and\ncompanionship to man, as fitly as in lifeless bronze or marble?\n\nBut although men might try to reconcile theology even to a worship of\nanimal forms, it was by very different spiritual influences that Isis and\nSerapis won the devotion of the rustics of remote villages in Spain and\nBritain. The dog-headed Anubis might perhaps be borne in\nprocessions.(2947) The forms of sacred animals might be portrayed, along\nwith those of Io and Andromeda, on the frescoes of Herculaneum or\nPompeii.(2948) But the monuments of the Western provinces are, as a rule,\nsingularly free from the grossness of early Egyptian zoolatry.(2949) And\nthere is hardly a hint of it in the famous picture of the initiation of\nLucius in the _Metamorphoses_ of Apuleius. In that fascinating scene, Isis\nis the universal mother, Nature, queen of the worlds of light and\ndarkness, the eternal type of all lesser divinities. And on inscriptions\nshe appears as the Power who \u201cis all in all.\u201d(2950) Whatever her special\nfunctions may be, goddess of the spring, or of the sailor on the sea,\nguardian of women in the pangs of motherhood, the \u201cQueen of peace,\u201d(2951)\nguide and saviour of souls in the passage to the world beyond the tomb,\nshe remains the Supreme Power, invoked by many names, with virtues and\ngraces as various as her names. And Serapis, in the later theology, is not\nthe president of any provincial territory in the universe. He is not the\nlord of sea or earth or air only; he is lord of all the elements, the\ndispenser of all good, the master of human life. It is thus that Aristides\nhails him after his rescue from the perils of the sea.(2952) But although\nSerapis in many a monument is enthroned beside Jupiter, Queen Isis is also\nsupreme in the world both of the living and the dead.\n\nYet, although there is a very decided tendency to monotheism in the\nAlexandrian religion, a tendency which appealed strongly to minds like\nPlutarch, it did not succeed in altogether breaking with polytheism and\nits attendant superstitions. The attempted alliance of religion and\nphilosophy was far from complete. Philosophy, indeed, had substituted\nabstract theory for the poetry of legend. It struggled hard to assert the\nessential unity of the Divine nature. And Plutarch, in his treatise on\nIsis, declares that God is one and the same in all lands under whatever\nnames He may be worshipped.(2953) But the treatise shows at the same time\nhow vague and unsettled still was the theology of Alexandria, and how hard\nit found the task of wedding Platonism to the haunting tradition of old\nidolatry. Physics, metaphysics, etymology, are all employed with infinite\ningenuity to recover the secret meaning which it is assumed that ancient\nwisdom had veiled under the forms of legend. But arbitrary fancy plays far\ntoo large a part in these random guesses, and system there is none, to\nbridge the gulf between the Platonist eclectic and the superstitious\nmasses. Isis worship was in practice linked with all the reigning\nsuperstitions, with divination, magic, astrology, oneiromancy. Manetho,\nwho was one of the founders of the worship of Serapis, wrote a treatise\nfor the Greek world on the influence of the stars on human destiny.(2954)\nEgyptian astrologists were always in great demand. The emperors Otho and\nM. Aurelius carried them in their train.(2955) Many Roman ladies in\nsickness would not take food or medicine till the safe hour had been\ndetermined by inspecting the Petosiris.(2956) The Isiac devotee was an\nenthusiastic believer in dreams sent by his favourite deities. On many\ninscriptions the record may be read of these warnings of the night.(2957)\nIn the syncretism of the time, Serapis came to be identified with the\nGreek god of healing, and patients sleeping in Egyptian temples received\nin dreams inspired prescriptions for their maladies.(2958) Sometimes the\ndeity vouchsafed to confer miraculous powers of cure on a worshipper. The\nsceptical good sense of Vespasian was persuaded by medical courtiers at\nAlexandria to try the effect of his touch on the blind and paralytic, who\nhad a divine monition to seek the aid of the emperor.(2959) The cultivated\nAristides had a firm faith in these heaven-sent messages. He even believed\nthat Serapis could call back the dead to life.(2960)\n\nYet Aristides, in his prose hymn to Serapis, gives us a glimpse of the\nbetter side of that religion. After all, the superstitions which clustered\nround it were the universal beliefs of the age, prevalent among the most\ncultivated and the most ignorant. The question for the modern student is\nwhether these Alexandrian worships provided real spiritual sustenance for\ntheir devotees. And, in spite of many appearances to the contrary, the\nimpartial inquirer must come to the conclusion that the cult of the\nEgyptian deities, through its inner monotheism, its ideal of ascetic\npurity, its vision of a great judgment and a life to come, was a real\nadvance on the popular religion of old Greece and Rome. Isis and Serapis,\nalong with Mithra, were preparing the Western world for the religion which\nwas to appease the long travail of humanity by a more perfect vision of\nthe Divine. It is impossible for a modern man to realise the emotion which\nmight be excited by a symbolism like that of Demeter, or Mithra, or Isis,\nwith its roots in a gross heathen past. But no reader of Apuleius,\nPlutarch, or Philostratus should fail to realise the surging spiritual\nenergy which, in the second and third centuries, was seeking for\nexpression and appeasement. It struck into strange devious tracks, and\noften was deluded by phantasms of old superstition glorified by a new\nspirit. But let us remember the enduring strength of hereditary piety and\nancient association, and, under its influence, the magical skill of the\nreligious consciousness to maintain the link between widely severed\ngenerations, by purifying the grossness of the past and transforming\nthings absurd and offensive into consecrated vehicles of high spiritual\nsentiment. No one, who has read in Apuleius the initiation of Lucius in\nthe Isiac mysteries, can doubt that the effect on the votary was profound\nand elevating. Pious artistic skill was not wanting to heighten emotion in\nIsis worship, as it is not disdained in our Christian churches. But the\nprayer of thanksgiving offered by Lucius might, _mutatis mutandis_, be\nuttered by a new convert at a camp-meeting, or a Breton peasant after her\nfirst communion. It is the devout expression of the deep elementary\nreligious feelings of awe and gratitude, humility and joy, boundless hope\nand trust. In the same tone, Aristides sings his prose canticle to\nSerapis. There is not a memory of the brute gods of the Nile. The\nAlexandrian god is now the equal or counterpart of Zeus, the lord of life\nand death, who cares for mortal men, who comforts, relieves, sustains. He\nis indeed a most awful power, yet one full of loving-kindness, tenderness,\nand mercy.(2961) In Plutarch we reach perhaps an even more spiritual\nheight. Osiris, who in old legend represented the Nile, or the coarse\nfructifying powers of nature, passes into the Eternal Love and Beauty,\npure, passionless, remote from any region of change or death,\nunapproachable in His ethereal splendour, save, as in moments of inspired\nmusing, we may faintly touch Him as in a dream.\n\nIn the _Metamorphoses_ of Apuleius, the goddess who appears in a vision to\nLucius promises that, when his mortal course is run, he shall find her\nillumining the Stygian gloom. And, next to the maternal love with which\nshe embraced her votaries in this life, the great attraction of her cult\nwas the promise of a blessed future, through sacramental grace, which she\noffered for the world to come. Serapis, too, is from the beginning a god\nof the under world, a \u201cguide of souls,\u201d as he is also their judge at the\nGreat Assize.(2962) The Orphic lore, the mysteries of the Eleusinian\ngoddesses and Dionysus, had for ages taught a dim doctrine of immortality,\nunder the veil of legend, through the scenic effects of their dramatic\nmysteries. They first revealed to the Greek race that the life to come was\nthe true life, for which the present was only a purgatorial preparation.\nThey taught, in whatever rude fashion, that future beatitude could only be\nsecured by a purification from the stains of time.(2963) The doctrine may\nhave been drawn from Egypt, and Egypt once more gave it fresh meaning and\nforce. The Alexandrian worship came with a deeper faith and more\nimpressive ritual, with dreams and monitory visions, with a mystic lore,\nand the ascetic preparation for the holy mysteries, with the final scene\nin the inner sanctuary, when the votary seemed borne far beyond the limits\nof space and time into ethereal distances.(2964) The soul might, indeed,\nhave to pass through many bodies and mortal lives before it reached the\nlife eternal. But the motto of the Isiac faith, inscribed on many tombs,\nwas _\u03b5\u1f50\u03c8\u03cd\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9_, \u201cbe of good courage,\u201d \u201cmay Osiris give the water of\nrefreshment.\u201d(2965) Everywhere the lotus, image of immortality, in its\ncalix opening at every dawn, appears on symbols of the worship. And\nHarpocrates, the god who has triumphed over death, appears as the child\nissuing from the mystic flower. The Roman practice of burning the dead\nmight seem to separate for ever the fate of the body from the spirit,\nalthough it is really a question of more or less rapid resolution of the\nmortal frame into its original elements. But, as we have seen, the man of\nthe early Empire became more and more anxious to preserve undisturbed the\n\u201chandful of white dust\u201d rescued from the pyre, and would invoke the wrath\nof Isis against the desecrator.(2966) The great object of many of the\ncolleges was to secure their humble members a niche in the _columbarium_.\nThe Alexandrine faith in immortality, by the grace of Isis and Serapis,\nprobably did not inquire too curiously into the manner of the\nresurrection.\n\nUndoubtedly another secret of the popularity of the Egyptian worships lay\nin their impressive ritual, the separation of their clergy from the world,\nand in the comradeship of the guilds in which their votaries were\nenrolled. Apuleius has left us, in the initiation of Lucius at Cenchreae,\nand again at Rome, a priceless picture of the Isiac ritual. Everything in\nthe ceremonial tends to kindle pious enthusiasm. Sophocles and Pindar had\nextolled the blessedness of those who had seen the mystic vision.(2967)\nThe experience of Lucius would seem to confirm the testimony of the Greek\npoets. When the goddess has promised him deliverance from brutish form,\nand pledged him to strict obedience, Lucius is inspired with the utmost\nardour to join in \u201cthe holy warfare.\u201d He takes up his abode in the sacred\nprecincts, he begs to be admitted to full communion. But the venerable\npontiff requires him to await the sign of the divine will. Lucius\ncontinues in fasting and prayer till the sign at last comes; when it comes\nhe hastens to the morning sacrifice. The scrolls, covered with symbols of\nancient Egypt, are brought in, and then, before a crowd of the faithful,\nhe is plunged in the sacred font. Returning to the temple, as he lies\nprostrate before the image of the goddess in prayer, he has whispered to\nhim \u201cthe unutterable words.\u201d Ten days more are spent in strictest retreat\nand abstinence from pleasures of the flesh; and then came the crowning\nrite, the solemn vigil in the inner sanctuary. There, as at Eleusis, a\nvivid drama of a divine death and resurrection probably passed before his\neyes, in flashing radiance and awful visions, amid gloom and the tones of\nweird music. But the tale of what he saw and heard could never be fully\nunfolded to mortal ear.\n\nThere indeed are some sordid and suspicious traits in the history of this\nworship. As in the case of the taurobolium,(2968) the mysteries of Isis\nand Serapis could not be enjoyed without a considerable outlay. And Lucius\nfound a difficulty in meeting the expense.(2969) But, whether in\nheathendom or Christendom, a regular priesthood and an elaborate ritual\ncannot be supported without the offerings of the faithful. There has\nprobably never been a religion in which the charge of venality has not\nbeen levelled against the priests. But Lucius finds here no\nstumbling-block. No material offering can repay the goodness and love of\nthe goddess. He feels towards her not only reverence and gratitude, but\nthe love of a son to a Divine mother. Ascetic isolation has produced the\nnatural result of imaginative ecstasy and mystic exaltation. The long,\nquiet hours of rapt devotion before the sacred figure in the stillness of\nthe shrine, the spectral visions of the supreme hour of revelation, made a\nprofound impression on a soul which was deeply tainted by other visions of\nold-world sin.\n\nThe daily ritual of Isis, which seems to have been as regular and\ncomplicated as that of the Catholic Church, produced an immense effect on\nthe Roman mind. Every day there were two solemn offices, at which\nwhite-robed, tonsured priests, with acolytes and assistants of every\ndegree, officiated.(2970) The morning litany and sacrifice was an\nimpressive service. The crowd of worshippers thronged the space before the\nchapel at the early dawn. The priest, ascending by a hidden stair, drew\napart the veil of the sanctuary,(2971) and offered the holy image to their\nadoration. He then made the round of the altars, reciting the litany, and\nsprinkling the holy water \u201cfrom the secret spring.\u201d At two o\u2019clock in the\nafternoon the passers by could hear from the temple in the Campus Martius\nthe chant of vespers.(2972) A fresco of Herculaneum gives us a picture of\nthe service. It is the adoration of the holy water, representing in symbol\nthe fructifying and deathless power of Osiris. A priest, standing before\nthe holy place, raises breast high a sacred urn for the adoration of the\ncrowd. The sacrifice is smoking on the altar, and two choirs are chanting\nto the accompaniment of the seistron and the flute.(2973) Another fresco\nfrom Herculaneum exhibits a bearded, dark-skinned figure, crowned with the\nlotus, in the attitude of dancing before a throng of spectators to the\nsound of music. It is plausibly conjectured that we have here a pantomimic\nrepresentation of the passion of Osiris and its joyful close.(2974) There\nwas much solemn pomp and striking scenic effect in this public ceremonial.\nBut it is clear from Apuleius, that an important part of worship was also\nlong silent meditation before the image of the goddess. The poets speak of\ndevotees seated thus before the altar, and in the temple at Pompeii a\nbench has been found which, from its position, was probably occupied by\nsuch silent worshippers.(2975)\n\nThe great festivals of the Egyptian worship were the blessing of the\nsacred vessel on the fifth of March, and the celebration of the quest and\nfinding of Osiris in November. The anniversary of the death and rising\nagain of the god was strictly observed by large numbers, especially among\nwomen. Pagan and Christian writers have alike ridiculed the theatrical\ngrief and joy for a god so often found, so often lost.(2976) The death of\nOsiris at the hands of Typhon, the rending of the divine form, and the\ndispersion of the lacerated remains, were passionately lamented in\nsympathy with the mourning Isis. With effusive grief the devotees beat\ntheir breasts and lacerated their arms, and followed in eager search. When\non the third day the god had been found and restored, the joyful event was\nhailed with extravagant gladness, and celebrated by a banquet of the\ninitiated. For some of these holy days the rubrics prescribed a long\npreparation of fasting and ascetic restraint. But that a general\nstrictness of life was not required of the Isiac votary, at least under\nthe early Empire, may be inferred from the fact that the frail Cynthias\nand Delias in Propertius and Tibullus were among the most regular in\nritual observance.(2977) The festival of the holy vessel of Isis, which\nmarked the opening of navigation, and received the benediction of the\ngoddess, was, in the early Empire, observed with solemn pomp and\nenthusiasm by the coast towns of the Mediterranean. A brilliantly vivid\ndescription of such a scene at Cenchreae has been left by Apuleius. It was\na great popular carnival, in which a long procession, masquerading in the\nmost fantastic and various costumes, conducted the sacred ship to the\nshore. Women in white robes scattered flowers and perfumes along the way.\nA throng of both sexes bore torches and tapers, to symbolise the reign of\nthe Mother of the stars. The music of flute and pipe meanwhile filled the\nair with sacred symphonies, and a band of youths in snow-white vestments\nchanted a hymn. Wave upon wave came the throng of those who had been\nadmitted to full communion, all clad in linen, and the men marked with the\ntonsure. They were followed by the priests, each bearing some symbol of\nthe many powers and virtues of the goddess, the boat-shaped lamp, the\n\u201caltars of succour,\u201d the palm of gold, the wand of Mercury. In a pix were\nborne the holy mysteries, and, last of all, the most venerable symbol, a\nsmall urn of shining gold and adorned in subtle workmanship with figures\nof Egyptian legend.(2978) This holy vase, containing the water of the\nsacred river, which was an emanation from Osiris,(2979) closed the\nprocession. Arrived at the margin of the sea, the chief priest consecrated\nthe sacred vessel with solemn form and litany, and named it with the holy\nname. Adorned with gold and citrus wood and pictures of old legend, it\nspread its white sails to the breeze, and bore into the distance the vows\nand offerings of the faithful for the safety of those upon the deep.\n\nThe oriental religions of the imperial period were distinguished from the\nnative religion of Latium by the possession of a numerous and highly\norganised priesthood, and an intensely sacerdotal spirit.(2980) In an age\nof growing religious faith, this characteristic gave them enormous power.\nThe priest became a necessary medium of intercourse with God. It is also\none of the many traits in the later paganism, which prepared and softened\nthe transition to the reign of the mediaeval Church. It would be tedious\nand unprofitable to enumerate the various grades of the Isiac priesthood.\nThere were high priests of conspicuous dignity, who were also called\n_prophetae_.(2981) But ordinary priests could perform many of their\nfunctions.(2982) There were interpreters of dreams, dressers and keepers\nof the sacred wardrobe of the goddess,(2983) whose duties must have been\nonerous, if we may judge from the list of robes and jewels and sacred\nfurniture preserved in inscriptions or recovered from the ruins of Isiac\nshrines.(2984) It has been remarked that the roaming Visigoths in southern\nGaul must have had a rare spoil if they had the fortune to light on one of\nthe great temples of Isis. The scribe of the Pastophori, in Apuleius, is\nalso an important officer. He summons the sacred convocation, and recites\nthe \u201cbidding prayer\u201d for the Emperor and all subjects, in their several\nplaces and stations.(2985) Music took a large part in the ritual; there\nwas hymn-singing to the sound of flutes, harp, and cymbal; and the\nchanters and paeanists of Serapis formed an order by themselves.(2986) The\nprayer which Lucius offers to the goddess, in Apuleius, has been arranged\nas a metrical litany.(2987) Women often appear in inscriptions and in our\ntexts as priestesses, and had a prominent place in all solemn\nritual.(2988) And it is evident that, with all its sacerdotalism, the\nworship gave full recognition to devout worshippers of every degree and\nsex. All who are devoted to the service have their place and function. The\ninitiated might even wear the tonsure in the ordinary lay life. To do\nthis, indeed, needed some courage, in the face of Roman ridicule. But the\nreligious were, from the earliest times in Greece and Italy, associated\nfor mutual support in sacred guilds, designated by various names, Isiaci\nor Pastophori or Anubiaci. In the third century B.C., such societies are\nfound in Ceos and Peiraeus.(2989) On the walls of Pompeii they have left\ntheir appeals to the electors to vote on behalf of candidates for the\naedileship.(2990) They were organised on the usual lines of the ancient\ncolleges, divided into decuries, with a director and a treasurer, a\n\u201cfather\u201d or a \u201cmother,\u201d or a patron at their head.(2991) The Isiac guilds\nmust have had a powerful influence in the diffusion of the religion of\nAlexandria. But they also were probably one cause of the suspicion so long\nentertained for that worship by the Republican government, and they only\nasserted their full strength in the second century, when the colleges in\ngeneral received the tacit sanction of the emperors. That the emperors\nfelt little fear of these foreign sacred corporations became clear when an\nemperor actually took the tonsure of Isis.(2992)\n\nThe Isiac system was energetic and self-assertive, but it can hardly be\ncalled dangerous or revolutionary. It threw many of the old gods into the\nshade, but its syncretism also found a place for many of them. Its inner\nmonotheism, after the fashion of those days, had open arms of charity for\nall the ancient gods. One of the priests of Isis might be called\nIacchagogus or Mithra;(2993) statues of Dionysus and Venus and Priapus\nstood in the court of the Isium at Pompeii.(2994) The Isis of Apuleius\nproclaims her identity with nearly all the great powers of classical\nlegend, and gathers them into herself. But Isis identifies only to conquer\nand absorb. And her priesthood formed an aggressive and powerful caste.\nThe sacerdotal colleges of the Latin religion were never, except in the\ncase of the Vestals, separated from ordinary life. The highest pontificate\nwas held by busy laymen, by consuls or emperors or great soldiers. After\nthe performance of his part in some great rite, the Roman priest returned\nto his civic place and duties. And in Greece, in the third and second\ncenturies B.C., even the Isiac priesthood was held only for a year, or\neven for a month; and the sacred processions at one time needed the\nauthorisation of the local council at Samos.(2995) But when we come to the\ndays of Apuleius, all this is changed. The chief priest at Cenchreae is\nevidently a great ecclesiastic, bearing the sacred Eastern name of\nMithra.(2996) He has given up ordinary civic life, and has probably\nabandoned his Greek name to take a new name \u201cin religion.\u201d Every day two\nsolemn services at least have to be performed in the temple, besides the\nprivate direction of souls, which had evidently become a regular part of\nthe priestly functions. Attached to the great temples, and close to the\naltar, there is a \u201cclergy house\u201d where the ministers are lodged. It is\ncalled the Pastophorion, and its chambers have been traced in the d\u00e9bris\nof the temple at Pompeii.(2997) One of these presbyteries was the scene of\nthe seduction which convulsed the religious world in the reign of\nTiberius, and which sent so many pious exiles to the solitudes of\nSardinia. The ministers of Isis and Serapis are marked off by the tonsure\nand the Isiac habit, which meet us in the pages of poets from Tibullus to\nJuvenal,(2998) and in the frescoes of Pompeii and Herculaneum. The\nabstinence, which was required as a preparation for communion in ordinary\nvotaries, was a lifelong obligation on the priest. The use of woollen\ngarments, of wine, pork, fish, and certain vegetables, was absolutely\nforbidden to them.(2999) Chastity was essential in the celebrant of the\nholy mysteries, and even Tertullian holds up the priests of Isis as a\nreproachful example of continence to professing followers of Christ. The\npriesthood is no longer a secondary concern; it absorbs a man\u2019s whole\nlife, sets him apart within the sanctuary as the dispenser of sacred\nprivileges, with the awful power of revealing the mystery of eternity, and\npreparing souls to meet the great ordeal.\n\nIt does not need much imagination to understand the fascination of Isis\nand Serapis for a people who had outgrown a severe and sober, but an\nuninspiring faith. They came to the West at the crisis of a great\nspiritual and political revolution, with the charm of foreign mystery and\nthe immemorial antiquity of a land whose annals ran back to ages long\nbefore Rome and Athens were even villages. But with antique charm, the\nreligion combined the moral and spiritual ideas of generations which had\noutgrown the gross symbolism of Nature worship. The annual festivals might\npreserve the memory of the myth, which in its grossness and brutal tragedy\nonce pictured the fructifying influence of the mysterious river on the\nlands which awaited his visitations, or the waning force of vegetative\npower and solar warmth. But Serapis, the new god of the Ptolemies, became\nthe lord of life and death, the guide and saviour of souls, the great\njudge of all in the other world, an awful power, yet more inclined to\nmercy than to judgment.(3000) And Isis rose to equally boundless sway, and\none of greater tenderness. Powers above and powers below alike wait on her\nwill: she treads Tartarus under her feet, and yet she embraces all, and\nspecially the weak and miserable, in the arms of her charity.(3001) Above\nall, she has the secret of the unseen world, and can lighten for her\nworshipper the Stygian gloom. But the Isiac, like the Orphic revelation,\nwhile it gave a blessed promise for the life to come, attached grave\nconditions to the pledge. In this brief time of probation, the soul must\nprepare itself under ghostly guidance for the great trial. Sacrament and\nmystery lent their aid to fortify the worshipper in the face of death,\nbut, to derive their full virtue, he must exercise himself in temperance,\nabjure the pleasures of the senses, and purify himself for the vision of\nGod.(3002) The sacred ritual of the Egyptian might captivate the senses\nand imagination by its pomp and music, its steaming altars, and\nmany-coloured symbolism. But in the stillness of the sanctuary the\nworshipper was trained to find his moments of purest and most exalted\ndevotion in silent meditation before the Queen of heaven and the shades.\nThe lonely, the weak, and the desolate found in the holy guilds succour\nand consolation, with a place in the ritual of her solemn seasons, which\nbound each to each in the love of a Divine Mother.\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAPTER VI\n\n\n                          THE RELIGION OF MITHRA\n\n\nOf all the oriental religions which attracted the devotion of the West in\nthe last three centuries of the Empire, that of Mithra was the most\npowerful. It is also the system which for various reasons has the greatest\ninterest for the modern student. It is perhaps the highest and most\nstriking example of the last efforts of paganism to reconcile itself to\nthe great moral and spiritual movement which was setting steadily, and\nwith growing momentum, towards purer conceptions of God, of man\u2019s\nrelations to Him, and of the life to come. It is also the greatest effort\nof syncretism to absorb, without extinguishing, the gods of the classic\npantheon in a cult which was almost monotheistic, to transform old forms\nof nature worship and cosmic symbolism into a system which should provide\nat once some form of moral discipline and real satisfaction for spiritual\nwants. In this effort, Mithraism was not so much impeded by a heritage of\ncoarse legend as the worships of Pessinus and Alexandria. It was indeed\nsprung from the same order of religious thought as they. It could never\ndetach itself from its source as a cult of the powers of nature.(3003) But\nthe worship of the Sun, with which Mithra was inseparably connected, was\nthe purest and most natural form of devotion, if elemental powers were to\nbe worshipped at all. And heathendom tended more and more under the Empire\nto fix its devotion on the source of all light and life. The Sun was to\nPlato the highest material symbol of the Infinite Good. Neo-Pythagoreanism\nand Neo-Platonism regarded him as the sacred image of the power beyond\nhuman ken.(3004) \u201cBefore religion,\u201d it has been said, \u201chad reached the\npoint of proclaiming that God must be sought in the realm of the ideal and\nthe absolute outside the world of sense, the one rational and scientific\ncult was that of the Sun.\u201d(3005) Heliolatry also harmonised with\nabsolutism in the State, as the old Persian kings and their imitators, the\nemperors of the third century, clearly perceived. The great temple of the\nSun, which Aurelian, the son of a priestess of the deity, founded in the\nCampus Martius, with its high pontiffs and stately ritual, did honour not\nonly to the great lord of the heavenly spheres, but to the monarch who was\nthe august image of his power upon earth and who was endued with his\nspecial grace.(3006) The power of Mithra in the fourth century lay in the\nfact that, while it was tender and tolerant to the old national worships,\nand never broke with the inner spirit of heathenism, it created an\nall-embracing system which rose above all national barriers, which\nsatisfied the philosophic thought of the age in its mysticism, and gave\ncomfort and a hope of immortality through its sacraments.\n\nMithra was one of the most ancient and venerable objects of pagan\ndevotion, as he was one of the last to be dethroned. In faint outline he\ncan be traced to the cradle of the Aryan race.(3007) In the Vedas he is a\ngod of light, and, as the god of truth, who hates all falsehood, he has\nthe germ of that moral character which grew into a great force in the last\nage of his worship in the West. In the Avestas, the sacred books of the\nreligion of Iran, which, however late their redaction, still enshrine a\nvery ancient creed, Mithra has the same well-defined personality. He is\nthe radiant god who seems to emerge from the rocky summits of eastern\nmountains at dawn, who careers through heaven with a team of four white\nhorses; yet he is not sun or moon or any star, but a spirit of light, ever\nwakeful, watching with a thousand eyes, whom nothing can escape and\nnothing deceive.(3008) And so, while he gives warmth and increase to the\nearth, and health and wealth to men, he is also from the beginning a moral\npower. He confers wisdom and honour and a clear conscience and concord. He\nwages a truceless war with the evil powers of darkness, and guards his\nfaithful soldiers against the craft of the enemy. He is the friend and\nconsoler of the poor; he is the mediator between earth and heaven; he is\nthe lord of the world to come.(3009) But his place in the Zoroastrian\nhierarchy was not always equally high. At one time he was only one of the\n_yazatas_, who were created by the supreme Ormuzd.(3010) But Mithra has\nstill the attributes of guardian and saviour; he is approached with\nsacrifice, libation, ablution, and litany, as in the latest days of his\npower in the West. And again a higher place is given to him; he is the\nvicegerent of the remote, ineffable Ormuzd, the mediator through whom the\nsupreme power crushes evil demons, and wages war with Ahriman; he is\ninvoked in the same prayers side by side with the Supreme. The Great\nKings, especially the later, regard Mithra as their special guardian,\nswear by him in their most solemn oaths,(3011) and call upon him in the\nhour of battle. If he was the god of the humble and afflicted, he was also\nthe god of the prince and warrior noble, and so we shall find him at the\nend.\n\nThe Persian conquest of Babylon had lasting effects on the religion of\nMithra. There he encountered a sacerdotal system which had its roots in an\nimmemorial civilisation. The conquerors, as so often happens, were to some\nextent subdued by the vanquished.(3012) Syncretism set in; the deities of\nthe two races were reconciled and identified. The magical arts and the\nastrolatry of the valley of the Euphrates imposed themselves on the purer\nMazdean faith, and never relaxed their hold, although they failed to check\nits development as a moral system. Ormuzd was confounded with Bel, Mithra\nwith Shamash or the Sun-god. The astral and solar lore, the faith in\nmystic numbers, which had been cultivated in Babylonia through many\ngenerations, took its place in the theology of Mithra, and they have left\ntheir mark in many a chapel on the Danube and the Rhine. Yet Mithra,\nidentified with the Sun at Babylon, was never absorbed in the cult of the\nsolar deity in the West.(3013) On many of the later inscriptions Mithra\nand the Sun are mentioned side by side as equals and allies. Yet the\nconnection of Mithra with Babylon is never forgotten either by Greeks or\nRomans. Claudian connects him with the mysteries of Bel.(3014) The priest\nwho, with many weird rites, in a waste sunless spot beside the Tigris,\nconducts Menippus to the underworld, wears the dress of Media, and bears\nthe name Mithrobarzanes.(3015)\n\nWith the destruction of the Persian empire and the diffusion of Magian\ninfluence in Asia Minor, the worship arrived at its last stage before\nentering on the conquest of the West. The monarchs of Pontus, Armenia,\nCappadocia, and Commagene, who claimed descent from the Achaemenids, were\npolitic or enthusiastic votaries of the religious traditions of\nIran.(3016) While they reverenced Ormuzd and Anaitis, Mithra was their\nspecial patron, as he was to Artaxerxes.(3017) Mithra\u2019s name appears\nconstantly in the names of royal houses, such as Mithradates and\nMithrobarzanes. The inscription on the tomb of Antiochus of Commagene, who\nboasted of his descent from Darius the son of Hystaspes, records the\nendowment of solemn Persian rites, and combines the names of Ormuzd and\nZeus, of Apollo and Mithra.(3018) In the submergence of national barriers\nwhich followed the fall of the Persian monarchy, and under the influence\nof Greek philosophy, that process of syncretism began in Asia Minor which\nwas destined to produce such momentous results in the third and fourth\ncenturies. But the Mazdean faith, strong in its associations with the\nancient sources of spiritual enlightenment in the East, never succumbed to\nthe western paganism. The classical gods might be admitted to the Mazdean\nheaven; Zeus might be confounded with Ormuzd; Anaitis might find an\nanalogue in Artemis Tauropolus. But the ancient name of Mithra was never\nprofaned in the liturgy by any translation.(3019) It was chiefly perhaps\nin Phrygia and Lydia that alien worships produced a lasting effect in\nmodifying the Persian theology. The pure morality of the Mithraist creed\nmight seem to have little in common with the orgies of the devotees of\nAttis and the Great Mother. But religious sentiment has a miraculous power\nboth to reject and to transmute. The costume and Phrygian cap of Attis\nappear on all the monuments of Mithra to the end. And, although it is a\nsubject of debate, the taurobolium, that baptism of blood which was the\nmost impressive rite of the later paganism, was, in all probability, early\nborrowed by Mithra from the ritual of Phrygia.(3020) The pine, the emblem\nof immortality, which is so prominent in the scenes of mourning for\nAttis,(3021) also has a place in the sculptured remains of the Persian\nchapels. And the title Menotyrannus, a title of Attis, which is given to\nthe Persian god on many slabs, recalls his passage through the same\nregion.(3022) But Greek art had a more powerful and enduring effect on the\nfuture of Mithra than any of these accretions. Probably the ancient\nPersian faith recoiled from any material image of its divine powers,(3023)\nalthough here also Assyria may have corrupted its purity. But when\nHellenic imagination began to play around the Mazdean gods, the result was\ncertain. The victorious Mithra was clothed with human form, and his legend\nwas fixed for ever by some nameless Pergamene artist, who drew his\ninspiration from the \u201csteer-slaying Victory\u201d of Athens.(3024) The group in\nwhich the youthful hero, his mantle blown back by the wind, with a\nPhrygian cap upon his head, kneels on the shoulder of the bull, as he\nburies his poniard in its throat, was for four centuries reproduced in\ncountless chapels from the mouth of the Danube to the Solway. That\nsymbolic scene, conveying so many meanings in its hieratic rigidity,\nbecame to the pious Mithraist what the image of the Divine Figure on the\nCross has been for so many centuries to the devout Catholic.\n\nThe revelation of the spread of Mithra worship in the Roman Empire is one\nof the greatest triumphs of modern archaeology. Only faint notices of the\ncult are found in Herodotus, Xenophon, and Strabo.(3025) Quintus Curtius\nknew the Persian god as the soldier\u2019s special patron, inspiring courage in\nbattle.(3026) From the verses in the _Thebaid_ of Statius we may conclude\nthat he knew something of the service in Mithra\u2019s grottoes, and that he\nhad seen the figure of the \u201cbull slaying\u201d god.(3027) Plutarch knows Mithra\nas the mediator between Ormuzd and Ahriman.(3028) Lucian had probably seen\nthe rites in his native Samosata; he knew the figure with the candys and\ntiara, and, from the sneer at the god\u2019s ignorance of Greek, he may perhaps\nhave heard the old Mazdean litany.(3029) But he had probably little notion\nof the hold which Mithra had already obtained on the farthest regions of\nthe West. Still less had he any prevision of his great destiny in the\nthird and fourth centuries. Literature, down to the Antonine age, teaches\nus little of the character and strength of the worship. Without votive\ninscriptions and the many ruins of his chapels, along with the indignant,\nyet anxious, invective of the Christian apologists, we should never have\nknown how near the Persian god came to justifying his title of the\n\u201cUnconquered.\u201d\n\nIt is impossible to fix the precise date when the worship of Mithra first\ncrossed the Aegean. The silence of inscriptions must not indeed be taken\nas proving that he had no devotees in Italy before the Flavian age. A\nfamous passage in Plutarch\u2019s life of Pompey would seem to refer the first\nappearance of the worship in the West to the conquest of the pirates of\nCilicia by Pompey, in 70 B.C.(3030) A religion of the alien and the slave\nmay well have been long domiciled in Italy before it attracted general\nnotice. And there may have been humble worshippers of Mithra at Rome or\nPuteoli even in the days of Julius Caesar. The Mithraist inscription of\nthe time of Tiberius is now admitted to be a forgery.(3031) But from his\nreign may probably be dated the first serious inroads of the cult. Under\nTiberius, Cappadocia was incorporated in the Empire, and Pontus under\nNero; Commagene, the home of Jupiter Dolichenus, who was a firm ally of\nMithra, was finally absorbed in the reign of Vespasian.(3032) The official\norganisation of these districts, and the constant intercourse established\nbetween central Asia Minor and the capital, must have opened many channels\nfor the importation of new forms of devotion from the East. Almost in the\nvery year in which Statius was penning his verses about Mithra in the\n_Thebaid_, a freedman of the Flavian house erected a tablet to the god on\nthe Esquiline,(3033) and soldiers of the East carried his mysteries to the\ncamps on the Danube. The 15th Legion, which had fought under Corbulo\nagainst the Parthians, and taken part in the conquest of Palestine in 70\nA.D., in the first years of the reign of Vespasian, established the\nworship of Mithra at Carnuntum in Pannonia, which became henceforth the\nsacred city of Mithra in the West.(3034) In 102 A.D. a marble group was\ndedicated by the slave of a praetorian prefect of Trajan.(3035) It is\nprobable that at Ostia we have records of the cult from the year\n162.(3036) The Mithraeum, found under the church of S. Clement at Rome,\nhas yielded an inscription of the last years of Antoninus Pius. That\nemperor erected a temple to Mithra at Ostia.(3037) Rome and Ostia were\nprobably the earliest points in Italy invaded by the Persian worship. All\nthe conditions were favourable to an early and rapid propagation of the\ncult in the capital of the world. Soldiers from the East would be serving\nin the garrison, or settled after their release from service. Eastern\nslaves swarmed in all the great houses, including that of the emperor. A\nlarge proportion of the dedications are made by men of servile origin, and\nthe very name of the dedicator would often be enough to indicate his\nnationality. More than 100 inscriptions, more than 75 pieces of Mithraist\nsculpture, with the ruins of many chapels of the god, attest his powerful\ninfluence at Rome.(3038) Ostia which, since the reconstruction of Trajan,\nhad overshadowed Puteoli, was hospitable to all alien rites.(3039) The\nport had at least four temples of Mithra in the second century, and it is\nsignificant of the alliance between the two worships, that a Mithraeum\nthere was built close to a shrine of the Great Mother,(3040) and that\nmembers of the college of the Dendrophori sometimes made offerings and\ndedications to Mithra.(3041) The remains at Ostia disclose some other\nindications of the prevailing syncretism. The Roman Sylvanus has a niche\nin one Mithraeum, and, in another, Saturn and Jupiter, Mars, Mercury and\nVenus, are figured beside the purely Eastern symbols of the planets and\nthe signs of the zodiac.(3042)\n\nThe inner secret of that rapid propaganda we shall never fully know. But\nwe can discover with tolerable certainty the kind of people who carried\nthe gospel of Mithra to the most remote parts of the western world. The\nsoldiers were his most zealous missionaries.(3043) Drafted from Cappadocia\nor Commagene, and quartered, far from his home, in a camp on the Danube or\nin the Black Forest, the legionary clung to the worship of his native\nEast, and was eager to admit his comrades to fellowship in its rites. The\nappearance of Mithraism in certain places can be traced directly to the\nquartering of a legion which had been recruited from the countries which\nwere the original home of the worship. Officers of eastern birth on\npromotion passed into other corps, and extended the influence of the\nEast.(3044) Centurions retiring from active service became apostles of the\nmovement in the places where they settled. Syrian merchants, who were\nstill found at Orleans in the time of the Merovingians, with all the\nfanaticism of their race popularised their native worships in the ports of\nItaly, Gaul, along the coasts of the Adriatic, and among the centres of\ncommerce on the Danube or the Rhine.(3045) The civil servants of the\nemperor, clerks and commissaries of every degree, procurators and agents\nof great estates, who were often men of servile origin, have left many\ntraces of their zeal in spreading the Persian worship both throughout\nItaly and in countries north of the Alps.(3046) The slave class probably\ndid as much for the glory of Mithra as any other.(3047) It was largely\ndrawn from Cappadocia, Pontus, and Phrygia, those regions where the\nreligion of Mithra had taken deep root before it passed into Europe. And,\nlike the Christian, the religion of Mithra was, at the outset of its\ncareer, a religion of the poor and humble. It was only in the second\ncentury that it achieved the conquest of the court and the educated\nclasses. It was probably through slaves that it found its way into remote\ncorners of Apulia, Lucania, or Etruria.(3048)\n\nThe stages in the spread of the Mithraist rites throughout Italy cannot be\nclearly traced. But in the second century the cult was established not\nonly in Campania, Capreae, and Ischia, but in lonely country places in\nSouthern Italy.(3049) It had spread to a circle of towns around\nRome\u2014Lanuvium, Alba, Velitrae, Labici, and Praeneste.(3050) Borne by\ntraders, imperial officers or slaves, it followed the line of the great\nroads to the north. Thus we can trace its march along the Via Cassia\nthrough Etruria, at Volsinii, Arretium, and Florence.(3051) It arrived at\nPisa probably by sea. Along the Flaminian Way, it may be followed through\nInteramna, Spoletium, and Sentinum to Bononia. At Nersae, in the Aequian\nterritory, the cult must have been of some antiquity in 172 A.D.(3052)\nFor, in that year the treasurer of the town, a man probably of the slave\nclass, restored a chapel which had fallen into ruins. The roll of the\npatrons of a Mithraist society at Sentinum has come down to us, with the\nnames of slaves or freedmen among its members.(3053) In Gallia Cisalpina\nthe traces of Mithra are less frequent. Milan, already growing to its\ngreat destiny in the fourth century, and Aquileia, are the chief seats of\nthe Persian cult. Aquileia has yielded a large number of inscriptions.\nFrom its situation at the mouth of the Po, as the great _entrep\u00f4t_ for the\ntrade between the Adriatic and the Danubian provinces, it must have\npowerfully stimulated the diffusion of the worship.(3054) It is curious,\nhowever, that the passes of the Alps have yielded richer booty to the\ninvestigator in this field than the plains of Lombardy. In the mountain\nvalleys leading to Rhaetia and Noricum, as well as in those above the\nItalian lakes, many relics of this far-spreading religion have been given\nto the light.(3055) A temple of Mithra has been discovered near Trent, in\nthe valley of the Adige. In the Tyrol and Carinthia sacred grottoes,\nburied among woods and rocks, have disclosed bas-reliefs, sculptured with\nthe traditionary figures of Persian legend. They were probably frequented\nby the faithful down to the reign of Valentinian.(3056) Throughout Noricum\nand Pannonia imperial functionaries or agents of private enterprise,\nprocurators, clerks of the treasury, custom-house officers, or eastern\nfreedmen and slaves, have left many traces of their devotion to the\nPersian god.(3057) Thus, everywhere along the great roads which radiated\nfrom Aquileia to the markets or strong places upon the Danube, the votary\nof Mithra would find in the days of the Antonines many a shrine, stately\nor humble, where he could refresh his piety by the way.\n\nThe Greek provinces have yielded but few memorials of the worship of\nMithra. But, from the mouth of the Danube to the north of England his\ntriumphant march can be traced, with only a break here and there. He\nfollows the line of the rivers or the great roads, through the frontier\ncamps or the centres of Roman commerce. Firmly seated at Tomi and the\nports of the Black Sea, Mithra has not left many traces, so far as\nexploration has gone, in Thrace and Macedonia.(3058) Nor have the Moesias\nas yet contributed many monuments, although at Troesmis and Oescus, along\nthe great military road, bas-reliefs and inscriptions have been brought to\nlight.(3059) Next to Pannonia and the territory of the Upper Rhine, Dacia\nwas the province where Mithraism seems to have reached its greatest\npopularity in Europe.(3060) In the year 107, after six desolating and\noften doubtful campaigns, Dacia was resettled and organised by\nTrajan.(3061) Its depopulated fields were colonised with immense masses of\nmen from all parts of the Roman world. Probably there has seldom been such\na _colluvies gentium_ assembled. And, among these alien settlers, there\nwere many from Edessa, Palmyra, and those regions of the East where Mithra\nor his kindred deities had their earliest and most fervent\nworshippers.(3062) In the capital of the province, Sarmizegetusa, an\nexcavated Mithraeum has afforded fifty bas-reliefs and inscriptions.(3063)\nThe colony of Apulum can show the remains of at least four temples. And\nPotaissa and other places, with names strange to English ears, have\nenriched the museums.\n\nPannonia abounds with interesting remains of Mithra, not only in the great\nseats of Roman power on the Danube, but in places far in the interior.\nAnd in this province can be distinctly traced not only the progress of the\nmilitary propaganda, but the dates, with approximate accuracy, when the\nmysteries of Mithra were first introduced.(3064) Aquincum and Carnuntum\nwere the chief seats of the Persian worship on the Danube. In the former\ntown, the god had at least five chapels in the third century. There were\nat least four in the territory of Carnuntum, one of them being closely\nconnected with that of the allied deity, Jupiter Dolichenus of\nCommagene.(3065) The original votaries of the reign of Vespasian had been\ncontented with a rude grotto, partially formed by the configuration of the\nrocks, the intervals being filled in with masonry.(3066) This structure in\nthe third century was replaced by a more stately edifice at the expense of\na Roman knight.(3067) There can be little doubt that the spread of\nMithraism in Pannonia was chiefly the work of two Legions, the II.\nAdjutrix and XV. Apollinaris, both largely recruited from Commagene or\nCappadocia.(3068) The bricks of a Mithraeum at Carnuntum bear the stamp of\nthe 15th Legion, and the inscriptions contain several dedications by\nsoldiers of the two corps.(3069) The 15th Legion, which was quartered on\nthe Danube in 71 or 72, had fought under Corbulo against the Parthians,\nand had borne a part in suppressing the Jewish revolt of 70 A.D. We may be\nsure that the gaps in its ranks were filled by eastern recruits.(3070) The\nsoldiers of other corps, such as the Legions XIII and XIV, Geminae\nMartiae, caught the religious enthusiasm, and took part in the erection of\nbuildings and in monumental offerings.(3071) It was probably through\nofficers, transferred from the Danube, that the worship was introduced\ninto the camp of Lambaesis in Numidia. There is a tablet of the third\ncentury to Mithra in that camp, dedicated by a prefect of the 3rd Legion,\nwho was born at Carnuntum.(3072) In Noricum and Rhaetia, the military\npropaganda seems to have been less vigorous than in Pannonia. But a corner\nof the former province was once guarded by a corps from Commagene, which\nhas left traces of its presence in the name of a town on the Danube and in\nsome monuments to Mithra.(3073) In Rhaetia his remains are singularly\nscanty.(3074) But when we come to the _Agri Decumates_ and the region of\nthe Upper Rhine, we find ourselves in a district once more teeming with\nrelics of Mithra. Not only has this region given to the light the largest\nnumber of his chapels,(3075) but the bas-reliefs found in their ruins\nsurpass all others in their dimensions and the completeness of their\nsymbolism. The tauroctonus group of Osterburken is regarded as the\nmasterpiece of Mithraist art in its complex variety and the vivid and\nmasterly skill of the execution.(3076) Many of the German inscriptions to\nMithra are offered by simple citizens. But, from the number dedicated by\nsoldiers also, Cumont may be right in tracing the diffusion of the worship\nonce more to military zeal. It is true, the legions quartered in Germany\ndid not contain any considerable number of recruits from the East. But\nthey were in constant communication with the camps upon the Danube, where\noriental influences were strong. It is significant that the earliest\ninscription to Mithra yet found in Germany, of the year A.D. 148, is that\nof a centurion of the 8th Legion, which was quartered in Moesia from 47\ntill 69, and which during that time had frequent communications with the\nEast. The legion was in 70 removed from Moesia to Upper Germany.(3077) It\nis probable that, however it was introduced, the worship of Mithra may\nhave found its way into the valley of the Neckar, and even to the Lower\nRhine, before the end of the first century. Coins of Trajan have been\nfound in the temple at Friedberg;(3078) a series of coins from Vespasian\nto M. Aurelius has been recovered from a temple in the neighbourhood of\nCologne.(3079) From Cologne the line of conquest may be followed to\nBoulogne, the station of the British fleet. Thence the cult passed easily\nto London, which, in the time of Tacitus, was a centre of great commercial\nactivity.(3080) The legions probably carried the worship to the great\ncamps of Caerleon, Chester and York. At all the guardposts of the great\nrampart of Hadrian, there were chapels of the eastern god, and the\ninscriptions show that the officers at this remote outpost of the Empire\nmaintained a warm devotion to the religion of their native East.(3081)\n\nThe regions of the western world on which Mithra, from whatever causes,\nseems to have made least impression were Western Gaul, Spain, and North\nAfrica.(3082) Syrian merchants, slaves, or soldiers, had established the\nworship at Lyons, Arles, and Narbonne. But Elusa is the only place in\nAquitaine where traces of it have been found. In Spain, the legionaries\ncarried it only to a few remote frontier posts in Asturia or\nGallicia.(3083) The African garrisons, recruited largely from the\nsurrounding country, remained true to their native deities, and the few\ninscriptions to Mithra at great military strongholds, like Lambesi, are\nprobably due to the devotion of some of the higher officers, who had been\ntransferred to these distant quarters from Syria or the Danube.(3084)\n\nIf we try to explain the fascination of this religion of central Asia for\nwestern minds, we must seek it partly in its theological system, partly in\nits ritual and clerical organisation, still more in its clear promise of a\nlife beyond the grave. In these characteristics, Mithraism differed\nprofoundly from Graeco-Roman paganism, and seemed, in the eyes of the\nChristian apologists, to be a deceptive imitation of the rites and\ndoctrines of the Christian Church. Inspired with the tendency or ambition\nto gather many races into its fold, Mithraism was a compound of the\ninfluences of very different ages, and offered many footholds for the\nfaith or superstition of the lands which it traversed in its march. It\ndrew, from points widely severed in time and place, doctrine or symbolism\nor rite, from the ancient lands of the Aryan race, from the mountain homes\nof the Persians, from Babylon and Phrygia and Commagene, from the\nphilosophy of Greece, and the mythologies of all the peoples among whom it\ncame. Yet it never to the end ceased to be a Persian cult. In the Divine\nComedy of Lucian, as it may be called, Mithra, even when he is admitted to\nOlympus, cannot speak in Greek.(3085) His name is never disguised or\ntranslated. On many of his inscriptions the names of the old Mazdean\npantheon, such as Ahriman, the power of evil, still figure.(3086) The\nmystic beasts which are always present in the sacred scene of the\ntauroctonus, the lion, the dog, the snake, the scorpion, had all a\nhieratic meaning in Persian theology.(3087) The cave, which was the\nimmemorial sanctuary of the worship, amid all the mystic meanings attached\nto it by later Neo-Platonist speculation, carried the mind back to\nZoroastrian symbolism.(3088) The _petra genetrix_, which is figured on so\nmany sacred slabs on the Danube and in Upper Germany, goes back to the\nvery cradle of the worship.(3089) The young god, emerging from the spires\nof rock, round which a serpent coils itself, is the first radiance of the\nupspringing sun, as on high, lonely peaks it flashes and broadens to the\ndawn. The great elemental powers, sun and moon, ocean, the winds and\nseasons, are generally grouped around the central piece, in forms borrowed\nfrom classic art.(3090) Fire and water are always present; no chapel was\nwithout its fountain.(3091) And the tradition of the astral lore of the\nEuphrates can be seen in the signs of the zodiac which encompass the\nsacred scene of mystic sacrifice in the chapels on the Upper Rhine.(3092)\nThe very letters of the name of Mithra, expanded into Meithras, according\nto S. Jerome, like the mystic word Abraxas, yielded to ingenious\ncalculation the exact number of days in the year.(3093) It is difficult\nfor us to conceive how these frigid astronomical fancies should form a\npart in a religious system which undoubtedly from the beginning had a\nprofound moral effect on its adherents. Yet it is well to remember that\nthere was a time when the mystery of the stellar spaces, and the grandeur\nand beneficence of the sun, were the most awful and impressive things in\nhuman experience. The cold scrutiny of the telescope has long since robbed\nthe heavenly orbs of their mystic power over human destiny. Yet even now,\na man who has not been imbued with the influence of modern science, may,\non some calm, starlit summer night, travel back in imagination to the\ndreams of the early star-gazers on the Ganges or the Euphrates, and fancy\nthat, in the far solitary splendour and ordered movement of those eternal\nfires, which shine so serene and pitiless on this small point in the\nuniverse, there may be forces to guide or signs to predict the course of\nmortal destiny. Nor was it an altogether unworthy dream, which floated\nbefore the minds of so many generations, that in those liquid depths of\nspace, where, in the infinite distance, the radiance of widely-severed\nconstellations blends into a luminous haze, might be the eternal abode of\nspirits who, after their sojourn in the flesh, have purged themselves of\nearthly taint.(3094)\n\nThe relative influence of Babylon and ancient Iran in moulding the\ntheology of Mithraism, has long been a subject of controversy. The\nopposing schools, represented by Lajard and Windischmann,(3095) have been\ndiscredited or reconciled by saner methods of criticism, and wider\narchaeological knowledge. It is now seen that while Babylonia has left a\ndeep impress on the creed of Mithra, yet the original Aryan or Persian\nelements still maintained their ascendency. Mithra, in his long journey,\ncame under many influences; and he absorbed many alien ideas from the\ncults and art of the many lands through which he travelled. His tolerance,\nindeed, was one great secret of his power. But, while he absorbed, he\nassimilated and transmuted. He remained the god of Persia, while he\ngathered into his creed mystic elements that might appease the spiritual\ncravings of the western world.(3096) His system came to represent the best\ntheological expression of the long movement of pagan mysticism, which,\nbeginning with the mythic names of Orpheus and Pythagoras, organised in\nthe classic mysteries, elevated and glorified by the genius of Plato,\nended, if it has ended, in the Neo-Platonic movement which offered a last\nresistance to the Christian church. The central ideas of that theory of\nlife and death were presented to the neophyte in the mysteries of Mithra,\nand one of the last expounders of the Platonic creed, in the reign of\nTheodosius, had probably been initiated in one of the last chapels of the\nworship.(3097) In that vision of human destiny, of the descent and ascent\nof the human soul, the old Orphic doctrine is united with the star-lore of\nthe Euphrates. Travelling towards its future prison-house in the flesh,\nthe spirit which leaves the presence of Ormuzd descends by the gate of\nCancer, through the spheres of the seven planets, and in each acquires a\nnew faculty appropriate to its earthly state. The Mithraist discipline and\nsacraments prepare it for the ascent after death. When the soul at last\nleaves its mortal prison, it has to submit to a great judgment in the\npresence of Mithra, and if it pass the ordeal, it may then return through\nthe seven spheres, at each stage divesting itself of those passions or\nearthly powers, which it had taken on for a time in its downward\njourney.(3098) Finally, through the remote gate of Capricorn, its\nsublimated essence will pass back again to ecstatic union with the\nSupreme. It is thus that the East and West, Orphic mysteries and Chaldaean\nastrology, combined to satisfy the craving for a moral faith and the\nvision of another world.\n\nThe religion of Mithra probably achieved its highest victory through an\nethical theology, typified and made concrete to the average worshipper by\nan elaborate symbolism in rite and sculptured scene. But it had also a\ncosmic theology. Mithra, in virtue of his moral power, became in the end\nthe central figure. But in nearly all his chapels can be discovered a\ndivine hierarchy, in which, for ages, he did not hold the foremost rank.\nThe highest place is given to Infinite Time, without sex or passions, or\nproperly without even a name, although in order to bring him within the\nvulgar ken, he may be called Cronus or Saturn and imaged in stone as a\nlion, wrapped in the coils of a snake.(3099) He is the author of life and\ndeath; he carries the keys of heaven, and in his limitless sway, he is\nidentified with the unbending power of Fate. Like other cosmic systems of\nthe East the Mazdean explained the universe by a succession of emanations\nfrom the Infinite First Cause.(3100) From his own essence, Cronus\nengendered Earth and Heaven, whom mythologers may call Jupiter and Juno,\nand they in turn give life to Ocean. Jupiter, as in classical mythology,\nsucceeded to the power of Cronus, and gave to the world the Olympian\ndeities, along with Fortune, Themis, and the Fates. In the hemisphere of\ngloom and evil, another order was engendered by Infinite Time, which is\nrepresented by Ahriman, or, in the fancy of more western lands, by Pluto\nand Hecate. The evil spirits, who are their progeny, like the Titans of\nGreek legend, have tried to storm Olympus, and been hurled back to the\nunder world.(3101) There they still retain their power to plague and\ncorrupt the race of men; but, by means of incantation, and sacrifice,\ntheir malice may be turned aside. In this daemonology Mithraism joined\nhands with the new Platonism, of which Plutarch, as we have seen, was one\nof the earliest apostles, and the affinity between them continued to the\nlast age of paganism.(3102) But it was in its divinisation of the\nelemental powers and heavenly bodies that this religion probably obtained\nits most powerful hold on an age profoundly fatalist and superstitious.\nThe strife of the four elements figures under animal symbolism on\ninnumerable sculptures of the chapels of Mithra, around the image of the\nbull-slaying God.(3103) The divine fire which sparkles in the stars, and\ndiffuses the warmth of life in animal or plant, blazed perpetually on the\naltar of the crypt.(3104) The sun and moon are seldom missing from these\nslabs. In the great masterpiece of Mithraic art at Osterburken, the two\ndeities occupy opposite corners of the tablet.(3105) The sun-god, with a\ncloak floating from his right shoulder, is urging his four-horse team up\nthe steep of heaven, and over the car floats Phosphorus, as a naked boy,\nbearing a torch in each hand. On the opposite side, Selene, crowned with\nthe crescent and erect in her car, is urging her team of oxen downwards\ntowards the gloom. On another piece, also found in the heart of Germany,\nthere is an impressive scene, in which Mithra and the Sun, arrayed in\neastern costume, stand side by side over a huge slaughtered bull. The sun\ngod is handing to Mithra a bunch of grapes, which he receives with a\ngesture of admiration.(3106)\n\nThe most popular, and the least wholesome, element, which Mithraism\nborrowed from Babylon, was the belief in planetary influence. The seven\nplanets became the arbiters of human destiny, and their number acquired a\nhieratic significance.(3107) The days of the week and the seven principal\nmetals were consecrated to them. The various grades of initiation into the\nmysteries of Mithra found a correspondence in the intervals of the seven\nspheres.(3108) The soul, in descending to its earthly tenement for a\nseason, passes through their successive realms, and assumes appropriate\nfaculties in each, just as, on its release and ascension, it divests\nitself of them, one by one, as it returns to the region of ethereal\npurity. But the astral doctrine, introduced into the system of Iran from\nChaldaea, was a dangerous addition to the creed. It was a fatal heritage\nfrom ages of benumbing superstition, and, while it gave an immense impetus\nto the progress of the solar cult, it counterbalanced, and, to some\nextent, neutralised its more spiritual and salutary doctrines.(3109) A\nco-ordinate evil power, side by side with the beneficent Creator and\nPreserver, and his revealer and mediator, a host of daemons, tempting to\nsin, as well as visiting men with calamity, an iron Fate at the centre of\nthe Universe, whose inevitable decrees are at once indicated and executed\nby the position and motions of the planets\u2014all this gloomy doctrine lay\nlike a nightmare on the human mind for many ages, and gave birth to all\nsorts of evil arts to discover or avert or direct the pitiless forces\nwhich controlled the fate of man. This is the dark side of Mithra worship,\nand, in this evil tradition from Babylon, which partially overlaid the\npurer creed of Persia, we may find some explanation of the strange\nblending of dark superstition with moral earnestness which characterised\nthe reaction of Julian, the votary of the Sun, and the patron of Maximus.\n\nBut, although the deification of the great elemental powers and the\nmingled charm and terror of astrology gave the religion of Mithra a\npowerful hold on the West, there were other and nobler elements in his\nsystem which cannot escape the candid enquirer. The old unmoral, external\npaganism no longer satisfied the spiritual wants of all men in the second\ncentury. It is true the day will probably never come when the religion of\nmany will not begin and end in solemn, stately rite, consecrated to the\nimagination by ancient use, and captivating the sense by scrupulously\nordered ceremonial. The ritualist and the puritan conception of worship\nwill probably always exist side by side, for they represent two opposite\nconceptions of religion which can never entirely blend. And certainly in\nthe days of M. Aurelius the placid satisfaction in a sumptuous sacrifice,\nat which every word of the ancient litany was rendered to the letter, was\nstill profoundly felt by many, even by the philosophic emperor himself.\nBut there were other ideas in the air. Men heard from wandering preachers\nthat God required other offerings than the \u201cblood of bulls and the ashes\nof a heifer,\u201d that the true worship was in the sacrifice of a purified\nspirit.(3110) Platonist and Pythagorean, even when they might reverently\nhandle the ancient symbolism of ritual, were teaching that communion with\nthe Infinite Father was only possible to a soul emancipated from the\ntyranny of sense. Moreover, as we have seen, the new Platonism was\nstriving to create some mediatorial power between the world of sense and\nthe Infinite Spirit, transcending all old materialistic fancies of the\nDivine.(3111) This Platonic daemonology, indeed, from the Christian point\nof view, was a very crude and imperfect attempt to bridge the gulf. And it\nhad the graver fault that it was really a revival of the old mythology.\nYet it was also an attempted reformation. It was an effort to introduce a\nmoral influence into paganism. It was an effort to substitute for physical\nand naturalistic conceptions a moral theory of the government of the\nworld. That was surely an immense advance in religious history, and\nforeshadowed the great revolution which was to launch the western world on\na new spiritual career. The hosts of sister spirits, whom Maximus of Tyre\nimagines as surrounding and sustaining the life of men, involved in the\ndarkness and sorrow of time, are a conception strange to the old paganism.\nAnd the need of mediatorial sympathy, of a sympathetic link, however\nslight, with the dim, awful Power, ever receding into more remote and\nmysterious distances, was also connected with the need of some assurance,\nor fainter hope, of a life beyond the tomb. To that hope the old classical\npaganism afforded only slight and shadowy nutriment. Yet, from hundreds of\nsepulchral inscriptions the yearning, often darkened by a doubt, appeals\nwith pathetic force. Apart, in fact, from the crowd of mere antiquarian\nformalists and lovers of spectacle, there were, we believe, a great mass\nwho longed for some channel through which they might have the faintest\ntouch of sympathy with the Infinite Spirit; for some promise, however\nveiled in enigmatic symbolism, that this poor, puzzling, ineffectual life\nshould not close impotently at death.\n\nIn all the Mazdean pantheon, it has been remarked, Mithra was the only\ndivine figure that profoundly affected the religious imagination of\nEurope. Who can dare at this distance to pierce the mystery? But we may\nconjecture that the ascendency is partly due to his place as mediator in\nthe Persian hierarchy, partly to the legends, emblazoned on so many slabs,\nof his miraculous and Herculean triumphs; but still more to the moral and\nsacramental support, and the sure hope of immortal life which he offered\nto his faithful worshippers. Mithra came as a deliverer from powers of\nevil and as a mediator between man and the remote Ormuzd. He bears the\nlatter office in a double sense. In the cosmic system, as lord of light,\nhe is also lord of the space between the heavenly ether and the mists of\nearth. As a solar deity, he is the central point among the planetary\norbs.(3112) In the ubiquitous group of the slaughtered bull, Mithra stands\nbetween the two Dadophori, Cautes and Cautopates, who form with him a sort\nof Trinity, and are said to be incarnations of him.(3113) One of these\nfigures in Mithraic sculpture always bears a torch erect, the other a\ntorch turned downwards to the earth. They may have a double significance.\nThey may figure the ascending light of dawn, and the last radiance of day\nas it sinks below the horizon. They may be taken to image the growth of\nsolar strength to its midsummer triumphs, and its slow decline towards\nfading autumn and the cold of winter. Or again, they may shadow forth the\nwider and more momentous processes of universal death and resurgent life.\nBut Mithra also became a mediator in the moral sense, standing between\nOrmuzd and Ahriman, the powers of good and evil, as Plutarch conceives\nhim.(3114) He is the ever victorious champion, who defies and overthrows\nthe malignant demons that beset the life of man; who, above all, gives the\nvictory over the last foe of humanity.\n\nThe legend of Mithra in hymn or litany is almost entirely lost. But\nantiquarian ingenuity and cultivated sympathy have plausibly recovered\nsome of its meanings from the many sculptural remains of his chapels. On\nthe great monuments of Virunum, Mauls, Neuenheim, and Osterburken, can be\nseen the successive scenes of the hero\u2019s career. They begin with his\nmiraculous birth from the \u201cmother rock,\u201d which was familiar to Justin\nMartyr, S. Jerome, and many of the Fathers.(3115) The dedications _petrae\ngenetrici_ abound along the Danube, and the sacred stone was an object of\nadoration in many chapels.(3116) A youthful form, his head crowned with a\nPhrygian cap, a dagger in one hand, and a torch in the other, is pictured\nemerging from an opening rock, around which sometimes a serpent is coiled.\nShepherds from the neighbouring mountain gaze in wonder at the divine\nbirth, and presently come nearer to adore the youthful hero, and offer him\nthe firstlings of their flocks and fields.(3117) And again, a naked boy is\nseen screening himself from the violence of the wind in the shelter of a\nfig tree; he eats of its fruit and makes himself a garment from the\nleaves.(3118) In another scene, the sacred figure appears in full eastern\ncostume, armed with a bow from which he launches an arrow against a rock\nrising in front of him.(3119) From the spot where the arrow strikes the\nstone, a fountain gushes forth, and the water is eagerly caught in his\nupturned palms by a form kneeling below. Then follow the famous scenes of\nthe chase and slaughter of the mystic bull. At first the beast is seen\nborne in a skiff over an expanse of waters. Soon afterwards he is grazing\nquietly in a meadow, when Mithra comes upon the scene. In one monument the\nhero is carrying the bull upon his shoulders; in others he is borne upon\nthe animal\u2019s back, grasping it by the horns. Or again, the bull is seen in\nfull career with the hero\u2019s arms thrown around his neck. At last the bull\nsuccumbs to his rider\u2019s courage, and is dragged by the hind-legs, which\nare drawn over his captor\u2019s shoulders, into a cavern where the famous\nslaughter was enacted.(3120) The young god, his mantle floating on the\nwind, kneels on the shoulder of the fallen beast, draws back its head with\nhis left hand, while with the other he buries his dagger in its\nneck.(3121) Below this scene are invariably sculptured the scorpion, the\nfaithful dog, and the serpent lapping the flowing blood. The two\nDadophori, silent representatives of the worlds of light and gloom, one on\neach side, are always calm watchers of the mystic scene. But the\ndestruction of the bull was not a mere spectacle of death. It was followed\nby a miracle of fresh springing life and fertility, and, here and there,\non the slabs are seen ears of corn shooting from the tail of the dying\nbeast, or young plants and flowers springing up around.(3122) His blood\ngives birth to the vine which yields the sacred juice consecrated in the\nmysteries. Thus, in spite of the scorpion and the serpent, symbols of the\nevil powers, who seek to wither and sterilise the sources of vitality,\nlife is ever rising again from the body of death.(3123)\n\nMithra\u2019s mysterious reconciliation with the Sun is figured in other\ngroups.(3124) Mithra, as usual, in eastern costume, has, kneeling before\nhim, a youthful figure either naked or lightly clad. The god touches the\nhead of the suppliant with some mysterious symbol, and the subject of the\nrite raises his hands in prayer. The mystic symbol is removed, and Mithra\nsets a radiant crown on the suppliant\u2019s head. This reconciliation of the\ntwo deities is a favourite subject. In the sculpture of Osterburken, they\nratify their pact with solemn gestures before an altar. Their restored\nharmony is commemorated in even more solemn fashion. In one monument the\ntwo are reclining on a couch at a solemn agape, with a table before them\nbearing the sacred bread, which is marked with the cross, and both are in\nthe act of raising the cup in their right hands.(3125)\n\nThe legend of Mithra, thus faintly and doubtfully reconstructed from the\nsacred sculptures, in the absence of express tradition, must probably for\never remain somewhat of an enigma. It has been, since the third century,\nthe battle-ground of ingenious interpreters. To enumerate and discuss\nthese theories, many of them now discredited by archaeological research,\nis far beyond the scope of this work. It is clear that from the early\nChaldaean magi, who, to some extent, imposed their system on Iranian\nlegend, down to the Neo-Platonists, the god and his attendants were\ntreated as the symbols of cosmic theory. The birth from the rock was the\nlight of dawn breaking over serrated crests of eastern hills.(3126) The\ncave, which was always piously perpetuated in the latest Mithraist\narchitecture, was the solid vault of heaven, and the openings pierced in\nits roof were the stars shining through the celestial dome.(3127) The\nfountain which rose in every chapel, the fire on the altar, the animals\nsurrounding the bull, represent the powers of nature in their changes and\nconflict. The young archer, causing water to spring from the rock by a\nshot from his bow, marks the miraculous cessation of prehistoric dearth,\nas the bull leaping from a skiff perhaps commemorates a primaeval deluge.\nThe slaying of the bull, the central scene of all, may go back to the\nexploits of the heroic pioneers of settled life, a Hercules or a Theseus,\nwho tamed the savage wilderness to the uses of man. It had many meanings\nto different ages. To one occupied with the processes of nature, it may\nhave symbolised the withering of the vegetative freshness of the world in\nmidsummer heats, yet with a promise of a coming spring. To another it may\nhave meant a victory over evil spirits and powers of darkness.(3128) Or it\nmay, in the last days, have been the prototype of that sacramental\ncleansing which gave assurance of immortal life, and which seemed to the\nFathers the mockery of a Diviner Sacrifice.\n\nThere can be no doubt that Mithra and his exploits, in response to a great\nneed, came to have a moral and spiritual meaning. From the earliest times,\nhe is the mediator between good and evil powers; ever young, vigorous, and\nvictorious in his struggles, the champion of truth and purity, the\nprotector of the weak, the ever vigilant foe of the hosts of daemons who\nswarm round the life of man, the conqueror of death. His religion, in\nspite of its astrology, was not one of fatalist reverie; it was a religion\nof struggle and combat. In this aspect it was congenial to the virile\nRoman temperament, and, above all, to the temperament of the Roman\nsoldier, at once the most superstitious and the most strenuous of\nmen.(3129) Who can tell what inspiration the young heroic figure, wearing\nan air of triumphant vigour even on the rudest slabs,(3130) may have\nbreathed into a worn old veteran, who kept ceaseless watch against the\nGermans in some lonely post on the Danube, when he spent a brief hour in\nthe splendour of the brilliantly lighted crypt, and joined in the old\nMazdean litany? Before him was the sacred group of the Tauroctonus, full\nof so many meanings to many lands and ages, but which, to his eyes,\nprobably shed the light of victory over the perilous combats of time, and\ngave assurance of a larger hope. Suddenly, by the touch of an unseen hand,\nthe plaque revolved,(3131) and he had before him the solemn agape of the\ntwo deities in which they celebrated the peaceful close of their mystic\nconflict. And he went away, assured that his hero god was now enthroned on\nhigh, and watching over his faithful soldiers upon earth.(3132) At the\nsame time, he had seen around him the sacred symbols or images of all the\ngreat forces of nature, and of the fires of heaven which, in their motions\nand their effluences, could bring bane or happiness to men below. In the\nchapels of Mithra, all nature became divine and sacred, the bubbling\nspring, the fire on the cottage hearth, the wind that levelled the pine\ntree or bore the sailor on his voyage, the great eternal lights that\nbrought seed-time and harvest and parted day from night, the ever-welling\nvital force in opening leaf and springing corn-ear, and birth of young\ncreatures, triumphing in regular round over the malignant forces which\nseem for a time to threaten decay and corruption. The \u201cUnconquered Mithra\u201d\nis thus the god of light and hope in this world and the next.(3133)\n\nThe ancient world was craving for a promise of immortality. Mithraism\nstrove to nurse the hope, but, like the contemporaneous Platonism and the\nmore ancient Orphic lore, it linked it with moral responsibility and grave\nconsequences. Votaries were taught that the soul descended by graduated\nfall from the Most High to dwell for a season in the prison of the\nflesh.(3134) After death there is a great judgment, to decide the future\ndestiny of each soul, according to the life which had been led on\nearth.(3135) Spirits which have defiled themselves during life are dragged\ndown by Ahriman and his evil angels, and may be consigned to torture, or\nmay sink into endless debasement. The pure, who have been fortified by the\nholy mysteries, will mount upwards through the seven spheres, at each\nstage parting with some of their lower elements, till, at last, the\nsubtilised essential spirit reaches the empyrean, and is received by\nMithra into the eternal light.\n\nBut the conflict between good and evil, even on this earth, will not last\nfor ever. There will be a second coming of Mithra, which is to be presaged\nby great plagues. The dead will arise from their tombs to meet him. The\nmystic bull will again be slain, and his blood, mingled with the juice of\nthe sacred Haoma, will be drunk by the just, and impart to them the gift\nof eternal life.(3136) Fire from heaven will finally devour all that is\nevil. Thus the slaughter of the bull, which is the image of the succession\nof decay and fructifying power in physical nature, is also the symbol and\nguarantee of a final victory over evil and death. And, typifying such\nlofty and consolatory truths, it naturally met the eye of the worshipper\nin every chapel. It was also natural that the taurobolium, which was\noriginally a rite of the Great Mother, should be absorbed, like so many\nalien rites and ideas, by the religion which was the great triumph of\nsyncretism. The baptism of blood was, indeed, a formal cleansing from\nimpurity of the flesh; but it was also cleansing in a higher sense. The\ninscriptions of the fourth century, which commemorate the blessing of the\nholy rite, often close with the words _in aeternum renatus_.(3137) How far\nthe phrase expressed a moral resurrection, how far it records the sure\nhope of another life, we cannot presume to say. Whether borrowed from\nChristian sources or not, it breathes an aspiration strangely different\nfrom the tone of old Roman religion, even at its best. There may have been\na good deal of ritualism in the cleansing of Mithra. Yet Mithra was, from\nthe beginning, a distinctly moral power, and his worship was apparently\nuntainted by the licence which made other heathen worships schools of\ncruelty and lust. His connection, indeed, with some of them, must at times\nhave led his votaries into more than doubtful company; Sabazius and Magna\nMater were dangerous allies.(3138) Yet, on the whole, it has been\nconcluded that Mithraism was a gospel of truth and purity, although the\npurity was often a matter of merely ceremonial purification and\nabstinence.\n\nThe day is far distant when the mass of men will be capable of the austere\nmystic vision, which relies little on external ceremonies of worship.\nCertainly the last ages of paganism in the West were not ripe for any such\nreserved spirituality. And the religions which captivated the ages that\npreceded the triumph of the Catholic Church, while they strove to satisfy\nthe deeper needs of the spirit, were more intensely sacerdotal, and more\nhighly organised than the old religions of Greece and Rome. Probably no\nsmall part of their strength lay in sacramental mystery, and an occult\nsacred lore which was the monopoly of a class set apart from the\nworld.(3139) Our knowledge of the Mithraic priesthood is unfortunately\nscanty, and the ancient liturgy has perished.(3140) But inscriptions\nmention an _ordo sacerdotum_; and Tertullian speaks of a \u201chigh pontiff of\nMithra\u201d and of holy virgins and persons vowed to continence in his\nservice.(3141) The priestly functions were certainly more constant and\nexacting than those of the old priestly colleges of Greece and Rome. There\nwere solemn sacraments and complicated rites of initiation to be\nperformed. Three times a day, at dawn, noon, and evening, the litany to\nthe Sun was recited.(3142) Daily sacrifice was offered at the altars of\nvarious gods, with chanting and music. The climax of the solemn office was\nprobably marked by the sounding of a bell.(3143) And turning on a pivot,\nthe sacred slab in the apse displayed, for the adoration of the faithful,\nthe scene of the holy feast of Mithra and the Sun after their\nreconciliation. The seventh day of the week was sacred to the Sun, the\nsixteenth of each month to Mithra, and the 25th of December, as marking\nthe sun\u2019s entrance on a new course of triumph, was the great festival of\nMithra\u2019s sacred year.(3144)\n\nInitiation in the mysteries, after many rites of cleansing and trial, was\nthe crowning privilege of the Mithraist believer. The gradation of\nspiritual rank, and the secrecy which bound the votaries to one another in\na sacred freemasonry, were a certain source of power. S. Jerome alone has\npreserved for us the seven grades through which the neophyte rose to full\ncommunion. They were Corax, Cryphius, Miles, Leo, Perses, Heliodromus, and\nPater.(3145) What their origin was who shall say? They may correspond to\nthe seven planets, and mark the various stages of the descent of the soul\ninto flesh, and its rise again to the presence of God. According to\nPorphyry, the first three stages were merely preliminary to complete\ninitiation. Only the Lions were full and real communicants,(3146) and the\ntitle Leo certainly appears oftenest on inscriptions. The dignity Pater\nPatrum, or Pater Patratus, was much coveted, and conferred a real\nauthority over the brethren, with an official title to their\nreverence.(3147) The admission to each successive grade was accompanied by\nsymbolic ceremonies, as when the Miles put aside the crown twice tendered\nto him, saying that Mithra was his only crown.(3148) The veil of the\nCryphius, and the Phrygian bonnet of the Perses, have a significance or a\nhistory which needs no comment. Admission to full communion was preceded\nby austerities and ordeals which were made the subject of exaggeration and\nslander. The neophyte, blindfold and bound, was obliged to pass through\nflame. It was said that he had to take part in a simulated murder with a\nblood-dripping sword. On the sculpture of Heddernheim a figure is seen\nstanding deep in snow. These ceremonies probably went back to the scenes\nand ages in which mutilations in honour of Bellona and Magna Mater took\ntheir rise. They may also have been a lesson, or a test of apathy and\nmoral courage.(3149) But the tales of murder and torture connected with\nthese rites have probably no better foundation than similar slanders about\nthe early Christian mysteries.(3150)\n\nThe votaries of Mithra, like those of Isis and other eastern deities,\nformed themselves into guilds which were organised on the model of\nordinary sodalities and colleges. As funerary societies, or under the\nshelter of Magna Mater, they escaped persecution. They had their roll of\nmembers, their council of decurions, their masters and curators.(3151)\nAnd, like the secular colleges, they depended to a great extent, for the\nerection of chapels and the endowment of their services, on the generosity\nof their wealthier members and patrons.(3152) One man might give the site\nof a chapel, another a marble altar; a poor slave might contribute out of\nhis _peculium_ a lamp or little image to adorn the walls of the\ncrypt.(3153)\n\nOne undoubted cause of the success of Mithra in the West was the spirit of\nfraternity and charity which was fostered in his guilds. The hopeless\nobscurity and depression of the plebeian and servile classes had some\nalleviation in companies where, for the moment, the poor and lowly-born\nfound himself on an equality with his social superiors. Plebeians and the\nslaves had a great part in the propagation of the eastern worships, and\nespecially that of the God of Light.(3154) In his mysteries and guilds the\nhighest dignities were open to them.(3155) Moreover, from the size of the\nchapels it is clear that the congregations were generally small, so that\nthe members of lower social importance were not lost in a crowd.(3156)\nGrowing numbers were accommodated, not by enlarging, but by multiplying\nthe shrines.\n\nIn the sacraments of Mithra, Tertullian and other Apologists perceived a\ndiabolic parody of the usages of the Church.(3157) The _acceptio_ of the\nneophytes, the _sacramentum_, in which they were pledged to secrecy and\nholy service, the sign or brand made on the brow of the Miles, the\nablutions or baptism with holy water, as in the rites of Isis, whatever\ntheir origin, could not fail, in an age of death-struggle for supremacy,\nto arouse the suspicions and fears of the champions of the Church.(3158)\nFinally, the consecrated bread and mingled water and wine, which were only\noffered to the higher grades, may well have seemed the last and worst\nprofanation of the most solemn Christian rite. The draught from the mystic\ncup, originally the juice of Haoma, was supposed to have supernatural\neffects. It imparted not only health and prosperity and wisdom, but also\nthe power to conquer the spirits of evil and darkness, and a secret virtue\nwhich might elude the grasp of death.(3159)\n\nThe temples in which these rites took place repeated for ages the same\noriginal type. Mithra and his cave are inseparable ideas, and the name\n_spelaeum_, _antrum_, or _specus_, remained to the end the regular\ndesignation of his chapels.(3160) In country places, grottoes or recesses\non the side of a rocky hill might supply a natural oratory of the ancient\ntype.(3161) But, in the centre of great towns, the skill of the architect\nhad to simulate the rude structure of the original cavern. Entering\nthrough an open portico, the worshipper found himself in an antechapel,\nthrough which he passed into another chamber which was called the\n_apparatorium_, where the priests and neophytes arrayed themselves in\ntheir robes or masques before the holy rites.(3162) Thence they descended\nby stairs to the level of the cave-like crypt, which was the true\nsanctuary. On each side there ran a bench of stone, on which was ranged\nthe company of the initiated.(3163) The central aisle led up to the apse,\nagainst the walls of which was set the sculptured scene of the slaying of\nthe bull, surrounded by the symbolic figures and emblems of Chaldaean\nstar-lore, with altars in front.(3164) This was the holiest place, and,\nfrom some remains, it would seem to have been railed in, like the chancel\nof one of our churches.(3165) The neophyte, as he approached, must have\nbeen impressed by a dazzling scene. On either side the congregation knelt\nin prayer. Countless lamps shed their brilliant light on the forms of\nancient Hellenic gods, or on the images of the mighty powers of earth or\nether(3166)\u2014above all, on the sacred scene which was the memorial of the\nmight of the \u201cunconquered.\u201d The ancient rhythmic litany was chanted to the\nsound of music; the lights came and went in startling alternations of\nsplendour and gloom. The draught of the sacred cup seemed to ravish the\nsense. And the votary, as in the Isiac vision in Apuleius, for a moment\nseemed borne beyond the bounds of space and time into mystic\ndistances.(3167)\n\nThe Persian cult owed much of its success to imperial and aristocratic\nfavour. The last pagan emperor of the West, the last generation of the\npagan aristocracy, were devotees of the Sun-god. It is a curious thing\nthat even under the early Empire Mithraism seems never to have suffered\nfrom the suspicion and persecution with which other alien worships had to\ncontend.(3168) Its close league with the cult of the Great Mother, which,\nsince the second century B.C., had been an established institution, may\nhave saved Mithra from official mistrust. He also emerged into prominence\nin the age in which imperial jealousy of guilds and colleges was visibly\nrelaxing its precautions.(3169) A more satisfying explanation may perhaps\nbe found in the sympathy of the Flavian dynasty(3170) and the princes of\nthe third century for the religious ideas of the East, and in the manifest\nsupport which heliolatry lent to growing absolutism and the worship of the\nCaesars.\n\nThe apotheosis of the emperors began even in the time of the first Caesar,\nwho rose to the highest divine honours before his death. But it was long a\nfluctuating and hesitating creed. The provinces, and particularly the\ncities of Asia Minor,(3171) were more eager to decree temples and divine\nhonours to the lord of the world than even the common people of Italy. The\nsuperstitious masses and the soldiery, indeed, were equal to any\nenthusiasm of flattery and superstition. But the cultivated upper class,\nin spite of the effusive compliance of court poets,(3172) having but\nlittle belief in any Divine Powers, were not likely to yield an easy faith\nto the godhead of a Claudius or a Nero.(3173) The emperors themselves,\nbelonging to this class, and often sharing its fastidious scepticism, for\na time judiciously restrained a too exuberant devotion to their\nperson.(3174) The influence of Herod may have filled the lunatic\nimagination of Caligula with dreams of an eastern despotism and the\nsuperhuman dignity of kings.(3175) Nero, who had visions of a new monarchy\nwith its seat on eastern hills, may have rejoiced in being adored by\nTiridates as the equal of Mithra.(3176) But the politic Augustus, while he\npermitted the foundation of temples and priestly orders in his honour\nthroughout the provinces, and even in Italian towns, along with the\ndivinity of Rome, obstinately refused to have shrines erected to him in\nthe capital.(3177) Tiberius pursued the same policy, which was congenial\nto his cold, realistic temperament. Vespasian, although eastern\nsuperstition had a certain charm for him, jested on his death-bed about\nhis own claims to divinity.(3178) It was reserved for his son Domitian to\nbe the first emperor who claimed the salutation of \u201cDominus et Deus\u201d in\nhis lifetime.(3179) The best of the early emperors aspired to full divine\nhonours only when their career on earth had closed.\n\nMany historic causes made their posthumous elevation to divine rank seem\nnot unnatural. The cult of the Manes, or good spirits of departed friends\nand ancestors, prepared the Roman mind to adore the memory of the father\nof the State. The legendary kings of the Latin race\u2014Saturnus, Faunus,\nPicus, Latinus\u2014were worshipped as _Di indigetes_;(3180) Romulus had\nvanished in a tempest and been carried up to heaven to join the company of\nthe gods. The hero-worship of the Greeks, which raised to semi-divine\nstate after death those who had done great deeds of service to mankind,\nwho had founded cities, or manifested splendid gifts of mind or body,\ninfluenced the imagination of a people who had long sat at the feet of\nGreece. Greek cities raised altars to Rome and to Roman generals who had\nenslaved them.(3181) When the Senate decreed divine honours to a dead\nemperor, he became _divus_, not _deus_, at least to the cultivated class,\nand _divus_ is a title which even modern sentiment might accord to men who\nhave borne a great and shining part in a world-wide system of\nadministration. The Spartan women were said to call great warriors, men\nwho won their admiration by gallantry, \u201cdivine.\u201d(3182) To the masses the\ndead emperor no doubt became a veritable god, as the image of M. Aurelius\ntwo centuries after his death was found among the _penates_ of every pious\nfamily in the West.(3183) But the philosophic man of the world might also\nhonestly accept the imperial apotheosis by the decree of the Senate, in\nthe sense that another figure had been added to the rare company of those\nwho have been lifted by fortune or merit far above their fellows, and have\nfilled a great space in the life of humanity. People, who for generations\nerected shrines to the minion of Hadrian, might easily believe in the\nclaims of the Antonine emperors to a place among the gods.\n\nThe influence of Egypt and Persia lent its force to stimulate native and\noriginal tendencies to king-worship, and to develop the principate of\nAugustus into the theocratic despotism of Aurelian and Diocletian. The\neastern peoples were always eager to lavish on the emperors the adoration\nwhich they had been used to offer to their native princes. The ancient\nPharaohs had been revered as incarnations of the deity and gods upon\nearth.(3184) The Ptolemies inherited and utilised so useful a\nsuperstition. These ideas spread into Italy with the diffusion of the\nIsiac cult among the upper class, and through the influence of travellers\nand envoys who kept up a fruitful intercourse between Alexandria and Rome.\nBut Egypt went rather too far for the western mind in its apotheosis of\nkings.(3185) A more potent and congenial influence came from the lands of\nthe remoter East. The Persians prostrated themselves before their\nmonarchs, but they did not actually adore them as gods. They reverenced\nthe daemon, or, in Roman phrase, the \u201cgenius Caesaris,\u201d without\nworshipping the monarch himself.(3186) The king was supposed to be\nenlightened, inspired, and guarded by a heavenly grace; his brow was\ncrowned by a divine aureole. Yet he was not the equal of God. But the\nmajesty and fortune of kings was something divine and supernatural; they\nreigned by special grace and had a divine protection. The dynasties who\nsucceeded to the great heritage of the East exploited these ideas to the\nfull, and the most solemn oath was by the Fortune of the King.(3187) The\nsuperstition of Chaldaea, which connected all human destiny with the orbs\nof heaven, exercised a profound influence for many centuries both in the\nEast and West. And the Sun, the monarch of the heavens, often identified\nwith Mithra, was regarded as the special patron of kings, enduing them\nwith irresistible power, and guarding their lofty destiny. These ideas\nspread easily from Pontus and Commagene into the western world. In eastern\ncities, Caligula and Nero had altars raised to them as solar\ndeities,(3188) and Tiridates offered to Nero the adoration due to\nMithra.(3189) The enigmatical goddess Fortuna, who seems to have had early\nassociations with the Sun,(3190) gained fresh strength from the ideas of\nthe divinised destiny of eastern monarchs. According to Plutarch, Tyche\nleft the regions of Assyria and Persia to make her home on the\nPalatine.(3191) The republican \u201cFortune of the Roman People\u201d naturally\npassed into the \u201cFortuna Augusti,\u201d which appears on the imperial coins\nfrom the reign of Vespasian. In the age of the Antonines, the image of the\ngoddess in gold always stood in the prince\u2019s bed-chamber, and was\ntransferred at the hour of his death to his successor.(3192) With the\nreign of Commodus, who was himself initiated both in the Isiac and\nMithraic mysteries, begins the temporary triumph of the oriental cults,\nwhich was to reach its height in the reign of Julian. The absence of full\nmaterials for the history of the third century,(3193) a century crowded\nwith great events, and pregnant with great spiritual movements, should\nperhaps impose greater caution in tracing the development of imperial\npower than some writers have always observed. Yet there can be little\ndoubt that the monarchy of the West tended to become a theocratic\ndespotism, and that Persian Sun-worship had a large share in this\ndevelopment. There was always a sober sense in the West which rebelled\nagainst the oriental apotheosis of the prince.(3194) Yet the iterated\nadulation, so often recorded faithfully in the Augustan History, reveals\nan extraordinary abasement of the upper class before the person of the\nemperor.(3195) The emperors never, indeed, claimed like the Sassanids to\nbe \u201cbrothers or sons of the Sun and Moon.\u201d(3196) But in their official\nstyle and insignia there were many approaches to the divine claims of the\nmonarchs of the East. The title _invictus_, sacred to Mithra and the Sun,\nwas assumed by Commodus, and borne by his successors.(3197) The still more\nimposing title of \u201ceternal,\u201d springing from the same origin, came into\nvogue in the third century, and appears in the edicts of the last shadowy\nemperors of the fifth. From the reign of Nero, the imperial crown with\ndarting rays, symbolised the solar ancestry of the prince. Gallienus used\nto go forth crowned in this manner, and with gold dust in his hair, and\nraised a colossal statue of himself in the garb of the Sun.(3198) The\ncoins of Aurelian, who built the great temple of the Sun from the spoils\nof Palmyra, bear the legend \u201cdeo et domino nato.\u201d(3199) The West probably\nnever took these assumptions so literally as the East. But metaphor and\nimagery tended to become a real faith. The centre of the great religion\nwhich was to be the last stronghold of paganism, was the prototype of the\nemperor in the starry world, and his protector on earth. And the solar\ngrace which surrounded the prince found an easy explanation in the mystic\nphilosophy of the soul\u2019s descent which had been absorbed by Mithraism. In\ncoming to earth from the empyrean, the future lord of the world received a\nspecial gift of grace and power from the great luminary which is the\nsource of light and life. The religion of the Sun thus tended to become a\ngreat spiritual support of an absolutism which was more and more modelling\nitself on the royalty of the East. The cult of the Sun, which was\nestablished in such splendour in 273 A.D. by Aurelian, must have had a\ngreat effect in preparing for the oriental claims of monarchy from the\nreign of Diocletian. Thirty years after the foundation of the stately\nshrine on the Esquiline, and only twenty years before the conversion of\nConstantine, all the princes of the imperial house, Jovii Herculii,\nAugusti, Caesares, as an inscription tells, united to restore a temple of\nMithra at Carnuntum, his holy city on the Danube.(3200) But the days of\nMithra as the god of kings were numbered. After the establishment of the\nChristian Empire, he had a brief illusory triumph in the reign of Julian,\nand again in the short-lived effort of reaction led by Eugenius and\nNicomachus Flavianus, which had a tragic close in the battle on the\nFrigidus. Yet his mystic theology was the theme of debate among Roman\nnobles, trained in the philosophy of Alexandria, long after his last\nchapels had been buried in ruins; and his worship lingered in secluded\nvalleys of the Alps or the Vosges into the fifth century.(3201) The\ntheocratic claim of monarchy, to which Mithra lent his support for so many\ngenerations, was destined, in its symbols and phrases, to have a long\nreign.\n\nM. Renan has hazarded the opinion that, if the Christian Church had been\nstricken with some mortal weakness, Mithraism might have become the\nreligion of the western world. And, indeed, its marvellously rapid\ndiffusion in Italy and the provinces along the Danube and the Rhine, in\nthe second and third centuries, might well have inspired the hope of such\na splendid destiny. Although it was primarily a kingly and military creed,\nit appealed in the end to all classes, by many various attractions.\nSpringing from remote regions of the East, it seemed instinctively to\nseize the opportunity offered by a marvellous political unity, along with\nanarchy in morals and religion, to satisfy the imperious needs of a world\neager for spiritual light and hope, but distracted among the endless\nclaimants for its devotion. Philosophy had long tried and was still trying\nto find a spiritual synthesis, and to draw from old mythologies a support\nfor life and conduct. Might not religion succeed where philosophy had\nfailed? Or rather, might not religion gather up into itself the forces of\nphilosophy, and transmute and glorify them in a great concrete symbol?\nMight not the claims of the past be harmonised with the higher intuitions\nof a more instructed age, and the countless cults embraced within the\ncircuit of the Roman power be reconciled with the supreme reverence for\none central divine figure, as the liberties of an Alpine canton, like\nthose of a great city of Asia, were sheltered under the unchallenged\nsupremacy of Rome? Mithra made the effort, and for the time he succeeded.\nIn his progress to what seemed an almost assured victory, he swept into\nhis orbit the Greek and Latin and Phrygian gods\u2014nay, even the gods of\nCeltic cantons.(3202) They all found a place in his crypts, beside his own\nsacred image and the Persian deities of his original home. Their altars\nwere ranged around his chapels, and were duly visited by his priests. Yet,\nthough the Persian deity might seem very cosmopolitan and liberal in his\nindulgence to parochial devotion, he never abated his own lofty claims,\nand he never forgot his ancestry. While he might ally himself with Magna\nMater and Jupiter Dolichenus, he coldly repulsed any association with Isis\nand Serapis, who were his rivals for oecumenical sway. The old hostility\nbetween the worships of Persia and Egypt was only softened in the\ninternecine conflict of both with a more powerful foe. It is only in the\nlast stone records that a votary of Mithra is found combining a devotion\nto Isis.(3203) The claims of the Sun-god to spiritual primacy are\nexpounded in the orations of Julian and the dissertations of Praetextatus\nin the _Saturnalia_ of Macrobius. Monotheism in the pagan world was not,\nindeed, a new thing. It goes back to the philosophers of Ionia and Elea,\nto Aeschylus and Plato. Nor was syncretism unknown to earlier ages. The\nGreeks of the days of Herodotus identified the gods of Egypt with their\nown, as Julius Caesar and Tacitus identified Gallic and German deities\nwith those of the Roman pantheon.(3204) But the monotheistic syncretism of\nMithra was a broader and more sweeping movement. Local and national gods\nrepresented single aspects of nature. Mithra was seated at the centre on\nwhich all nature depends. If nature-worship was to justify itself in the\neyes of philosophic reason, men must rise to the adoration of the\nSun-king, the head of a great hierarchy of divine forces, by means of\nwhich he acts and diffuses his inexhaustible energy throughout the\nuniverse. And such is the claim made for him by Praetextatus, in the\n_Saturnalia_ of Macrobius, who was a high adept in the mysteries of\nMithra.\n\nBut the world needed more than a great physical force to assuage its\ncravings; it demanded a moral God, Who could raise before the eyes of men\na moral ideal, and support them in striving to attain it; One Who could\nguide and comfort in the struggles of life, and in the darkness of its\nclose, Who could prepare the trembling soul for the great ordeal, in which\nthe deeds done in the body are sifted on the verge of the eternal world.\nIn fulfilling his part, Mithra could rely on his own early character as a\ngod of truth and righteousness, a mediator between the powers of good and\nevil: he had also the experience of the classic mysteries, stretching back\nto the legendary Orpheus, which, in whatever crude, shadowy symbolism, had\ntaught for ten centuries the doctrine of a moral sequence between this\nlife and the next. The descent of the soul into gross material form, and\nits possible ascent again, if duly fortified, to ethereal worlds, was\ncommon to Mithra and the Orphic and Pythagorean systems. Such a system on\none side sad and pessimist, on another was full of the energy of hope. And\nMithraism combined the two. It was a religion of strenuous effort and\nwarfare, with the prospect of high rewards in some far-off eternal life.\n\nIt is little wonder that the Fathers, from the second century, saw in\nMithra the most formidable foe of Christ. Indeed, the resemblances between\nthe two religions, some of them superficial, others of a deeper kind, were\nvery striking. How far some of these were due to a common stock of ideas\nin East and West, how far they were the result of conscious borrowing and\nmutual imitation, seems to be an insoluble problem. The most learned\nstudent of the cult of Mithra is the most cautious in his conclusions on\nthe subject.(3205) On the one hand, the two religions, in outlying regions\nof the Empire, long followed different lines of dispersion. Christianity\nfrom its origin in the religion of Israel, spread at first among the\ncities on the Mediterranean, chiefly where there were colonies of\nJews.(3206) On the other hand, outside Italy, Mithraism, which was\npropagated by soldiers and imperial officers, followed the line of the\ncamps and centres of commerce chiefly along the great rivers of the\nnorthern frontier. Yet at Ostia and Rome and elsewhere, the two eastern\nreligions must have been early brought face to face. In the syncretism of\nthat age, the age of Gnosticism, rites and doctrines passed easily from\none system to another. Mithra certainly absorbed much from kindred\nworships of Asia Minor, from Hellenic mysteries, and from Alexandrian\nphilosophy. It is equally certain that the Church did not disdain a policy\nof accommodation, along with the consecration of altars of Christ in the\nold shrines of paganism. The cult of local heroes was transferred to\nsaints and martyrs. Converts found it hard to part with consecrated\nphrases and forms of devotion, and might address Jesus in epithets sacred\nto the Sun. Some Christians in the fifth century still saluted the rising\nsun with a prayer.(3207)\n\nFutile attempts have been made to find parallels to Biblical narrative or\nsymbolism in the faint and faded legend of Mithra recovered from his\nmonuments, the miraculous birth, the sacred rock, the adoration of the\nshepherds, the grotto,\u2014above all, in the mystic sacrifice of the bull,\nwhich seemed to occupy the same space in Mithraic devotion as the\nSacrifice on Calvary. But one great weakness of Mithraism lay precisely\nhere\u2014that, in place of the narrative of a Divine life, instinct with human\nsympathy, it had only to offer the cold symbolism of a cosmic legend. In\ntheir offices and sacramental system the two religions had a more real\naffinity. Mithra had his baptism and confirmation of new disciples, his\nablutions, ascetic preparation for the sacred mysteries, and holy feasts\nof the consecrated bread and wine, where the mystic draught gave purity\nand life to soul and body, and was the passport to a life in God. The\nsacerdotal and liturgical character of his worship, with its striking\nsymbolism, using to the full the emotional effects of lights and music and\nsacred pomp, offered to souls, who were ripe for a diviner faith, some of\nthat magical charm which was to be exerted over so many ages by the\nCatholic Church. There are, however, deeper and more fundamental\nresemblances between the faiths of Mithra and of Christ, and it was to\nthese that the Persian cult owed its great superiority to classical\nmythology and the official Roman paganism. It responded to a great\nspiritual movement, of which it is one great object of this book to show\nthe sweep and direction. Formal devotion and ascetic discipline were\nlinked with lofty doctrines as to the origin of the human spirit and an\nimmortal destiny, depending on conduct, as well as sacramental grace,\nthrough Mithra the mediator. While the vulgar may have rested in the\nexternal charm and power of the worship, there were others who drank in a\nmore spiritual creed expounded to us by one of the last Neo-Platonic\nvotaries of the Sun-God. It told of a fall of the soul into the duress of\nthe body, for a brief period of probation, of a resurrection and great\njudgment, of a final ascent and beatitude in the life in God, or of\nendless exile from His presence.(3208)\n\nAnd yet the two systems were separated by an impassable gulf, and Mithra\nhad associations which could not save him from the fate of Jupiter and\nDemeter, of Hecate and Isis. It is true that his fate was hastened by\nhostile forces and causes external to religion. Many of his shrines in the\nDanubian provinces, and along the upper Rhine, were desolated and buried\nin ruins by the hordes of invaders in the third century.(3209) And in the\nfourth century, the fiercest assaults of the Christian Empire were\ndirected against the worship which was thought to be the patron of magic\narts, and a device of the Evil One to travesty and defy the Religion of\nthe Cross.(3210) But material force, however fiercely and decisively\nexerted, although it hastened the doom of the Persian god, only\nanticipated an inevitable defeat.\n\nA certain severity in Mithraism, which marked it off honourably from other\nworships of the East, also weakened it as a popular and enduring force.\nThe absence of the feminine charm in its legend, while it saved it from\nthe sensual taint of other heathen systems, deprived it of a fascination\nfor the softer and more emotional side of human nature.(3211) Although\nwomen may, perhaps, have not been altogether excluded from his\nmysteries,(3212) still Mithra did not welcome them with the warm sympathy\nwhich gave Demeter and Magna Mater and Isis so firm a hold on the\nimagination of women for many generations. The Mater Dolorosa has in all\nages been an enthralling power. The legend of the Tauroctonus was a\nreligion for strenuous men. And even its symbolism, with all its strange\nspell, seems to lack depth and warmth for human nature as a whole. It\nwould indeed be rash to set limits to the power of pious sentiment to\ntransfigure and vivify the most unspiritual materials. And the slaughtered\nbull in the apse of every chapel of Mithra may have aroused in the end\nvisions and mystic emotion which had passed far beyond the sphere of\nastral symbolism.\n\nYet such spiritual interpretation of ancient myth is only for the few, who\nfind in a worship what they bring. For the gross masses, the symbolism of\nnatural processes, however majestic, could never have won that marvellous\npower which has made a single Divine, yet human, life the inexhaustible\nsource of spiritual strength for all the future. With all his heroic\neffort to make himself a moral and spiritual force, Mithra remained\ninextricably linked with the nature-worships of the past. And, with such\nassociations, even the God of light could not be lord of the spiritual\nfuture of humanity. Mithraism, with all its strange moral force, with all\nits charm of antiquity and sacramental rite, with all its charity and\ntolerance, had within it the germs of a sure mortality. In its tolerance\nlay precisely its great weakness. The Christian Church might, in S.\nAugustine\u2019s phrase, \u201cspoil the Egyptians,\u201d it might borrow and adapt rites\nand symbols from pagan temples, or ideas from Greek philosophy.(3213) But\nin borrowing, it transfigured them. In all that was essential, the Church\nwould hold no truce with paganism. \u201cBreak the idols and consecrate the\ntemples\u201d was the motto of the great Pontiff. But Mithra was ready to\nshelter the idols under his purer faith. The images of Jupiter and Venus,\nof Mars and Hecate, of the local deities of Dacia and Upper Germany, find\na place in his chapels beside the antique symbols of the Persian\nfaith.(3214) And thus, in spite of a lofty moral mysticism, Mithra was\nloaded with the heritage of the heathen past. A man admitted to his\nhighest ministry might also worship at the old altars of Greece and Rome.\nThe last hierophant of Eleusis was a high-priest of Mithra.(3215) Human\nnature and religious sentiment are so complex that men of the sincere\nmonotheistic faith of Symmachus, Praetextatus, and Macrobius, have left\nthe almost boastful record of an all-embracing laxity of tolerance on\ntheir tombs.(3216) On many of these slabs you may read that the man who\nhas been a \u201cfather\u201d in the mysteries of Mithra, who has been \u201cborn again\u201d\nin the taurobolium, is also a priest of Hecate, the goddess of dark arts\nand baleful spirits of the night.(3217) Through the astral fatalism of\nBabylon, Mithra was inseparably connected with the darkest superstitions\nof East or West,(3218) which covered all sorts of secret crime and\nperfidy, which lent themselves to seduction, conspiracy, and murder, which\ninvolved the denial of a moral Providence of the world. Many a pious\ndevotee of Mithra and Hecate would have recoiled, as much as we do, from\nthe last results of his superstition. Such people probably wished only to\ngain another ally in facing the terrors of the unseen world. Yet there can\nbe little doubt that the majestic supremacy of Mithra, through its old\nconnection with Babylon, sheltered some of the most degrading impostures\nof superstition.\n\nSo rooted is religious sentiment in reverence for the past, for what our\nfathers have loved and venerated, that men will long tolerate, or even\nwistfully cherish, sacred forms and ideas which their moral sense has\noutgrown. Down to the last years of the fourth century, the Persian\nworship was defended with defiant zeal by members of the proudest Roman\nhouses. In their philosophic gatherings in the reign of Honorius, they\nfound in Sun-worship the sum and climax of the pagan devotion of the\npast.(3219) Many a pious old priest of Mithra, in the reign of Gratian,\nwas probably filled with wonder and sorrow when he saw a Gracchus and his\nretinue break into the sanctuary and tear down the venerable symbols from\nthe wall of the apse.(3220) He deemed himself the prophet of a pure\nimmemorial faith, as pure as that of Galilee. He was probably a man of\nirreproachable morals, with even a certain ascetic sanctity, unspotted by\nthe world. He treasured the secret lore of the mysterious East, which sped\nthe departing soul with the last comforting sacraments on its flight to\nethereal worlds. But he could not see, or he could not regret, that every\nday when he said his liturgy, as he made the round of the altars, he was\nlending the authority of a purer faith to other worships which had\naffrighted or debauched and enervated the Roman world for forty\ngenerations. He could not see that the attempt to wed a high spiritual\nideal with nature-worship was doomed to failure. The masses around him\nremained in their grossness and darkness. And on that very day, it may be,\none of his aristocratic disciples, high in the ranks of Mithra\u2019s sacred\nguilds, was attending a priestly college which was charged with the\nguardianship of gross and savage rites running back to Evander, or he was\nconsulting a Jewish witch, or a Babylonian diviner, on the meaning of some\nsinister omen, or he may have been sending down into the arena, with cold\nproud satisfaction, a band of gallant fighters from the Thames or the\nDanube, to butcher one another for the pleasure of the rabble of Rome.\nMithra, the Unconquered, the god of many lands and dynasties from the dawn\nof history, was a fascinating power. But, at his best, he belonged to the\norder which was vanishing.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                                  INDEX\n\n\n      Abascantus, secretary _ab epistulis_, career of, described in the\n      _Silvae_, 110\n_      Acta diurna_,\n            regular arrival of, in the provinces, 205;\n            reader of, 95\n      Acte, mistress of Nero, cares for his burial, 115\n      Aelian of Praeneste,\n            account of his work on Providence, 456;\n            immense credulity, and hatred of rationalism, _ib._;\n            the pious cock of Tanagra, 457;\n            last dream of Philemon, _ib._\n      Africa,\n            the development of its city life, organisation of Thamugadi,\n            202;\n            of Lambesi, 208;\n            amphitheatres in, 201;\n            and bishoprics, _ib._;\n            little touched by Mithraism, 597\n      Agrippina, mother of Nero,\n            memoirs by, used by Tacitus, 80;\n            sits on the tribunal with Claudius, 81;\n            shade propitiated by Nero, 491\n      Albinus, P. Caeionius, restores a temple at Thamugadi, 202\n      Alcantara, the bridge of, 220\n      Alexander of Abonoteichos,\n            oracle on the Marcomannic war, 451, 476;\n            physical and mental gifts of, 473 sq.;\n            skilful charlatanry, 474 sq.;\n            war with the Epicureans, 476;\n            Lucian\u2019s treatment of, 477;\n            establishes new Mysteries, 476 sq.\n      Alexandria,\n            roses from, for Nero\u2019s dinners, 32;\n            singing boys from, at Trimalchio\u2019s dinner, 130 sq.;\n            character of its populace, 374;\n            Dion Chrysostom rebukes their passion for games, _ib._;\n            a great focus of religious feeling, 397;\n            and eclecticism, 561\n      Animal-worship,\n            excites ridicule, 571;\n            philosophy justified it, _ib._, 395;\n            little noticed in Apuleius, 572\n      Annaeus Serenus, Seneca\u2019s _De Tranquillitate_ addressed to,\n      character of, 319\n      Antinous, death and apotheosis of, 450, 477, 478\n      Antium, temple of Fortuna Primigenia at, 456\n      Antoninus Pius,\n            builds a temple to Juno Sospita of Lanuvium, 538;\n            to Mithra at Ostia, 591;\n            his country pleasures at Lorium, 537;\n            flattered by the Arval Brothers, 542;\n            Magna Mater on his coins, 549;\n            taurobolium for, in 160, _ib._, 557\n      Apollonius of Tyana,\n            involved in political conspiracy, 40;\n            a great preacher, effect of his sermons, 347;\n            early life, Pythagorean asceticism, Sun worship, and catholic\n            ritualism, 399;\n            reconciled myth with a purer faith, 400;\n            visits all the oracles, 472;\n            his ideas of a future state, 518 sqq.\n      Apotheosis,\n            in the Antonine age, 386, 537;\n            of Antinous, 477;\n            of Peregrinus, 478;\n            of M. Aurelius, _ib._;\n            of the Emperors, its history, 615 sqq.\n      Apuleius,\n            sensual imagination and mysticism of, 389;\n            weird scenes of miracle in Thessaly, 483;\n            lofty conception of God, 389;\n            description of the revels of the wandering priests of the\n            Syrian goddess, 551 sqq.;\n            of other scenes in Thessaly, 552;\n            conception of Isis in the Metamorphoses, 563;\n            mystic raptures, 570, 574, 576\n      Aquileia, a great seat of Mithraism, 593\n      Ardeliones, the, life of, described, 12, 174\n      Aristides, P. Aelius,\n            picture of the Roman Empire in, 199;\n            general security, 205;\n            journey from Mysia to Rome, 206, 464;\n            early history and travels, 457;\n            long ill health and resort to temples of healing, 458 sqq.;\n            his rhetorical training affected his religious attitude, 458\n            sq.;\n            diseases of, lasting for thirteen years, 463;\n            his ordeals and vitality, 465;\n            visited by the gods, 466;\n            recovers his rhetorical power, _ib._;\n            mingled vanity and piety of, 467\n      Aristotle, influence of,\n            on Plutarch, 412;\n            on Seneca, 314;\n            on Maximus of Tyre, 421\n      Army, the,\n            honesty and courage in, 49;\n      _      castra stativa_ grow into towns, 207;\n            Septimius Severus allows the soldier to live with his family,\n            208;\n            how pensions provided for, 283;\n            military colleges, their objects, 283;\n            the worship of Mithra propagated by, 591;\n            the legions which were most active, 595, 596\n      Arrius Antoninus, grandfather of Ant. Pius, Greek verses of, 166\n      Art,\n            pretence of taste for, 131, 178;\n            influence of, in religion discussed by Dion Chrysostom, 382;\n            decay of, lamented by Petronius, 125\n      Artemidorus,\n            work on Dreams by, 468;\n            immense industry, collections, and faith in the science,\n            _ib._;\n            contempt for impostors, 469;\n            quasi scientific method, _ib._;\n            its absurdities, 470\n      Arvales Fratres, the College of,\n            revived by Augustus, 534;\n            early history, meetings and ritual of, 540 sq.;\n            servility to the Emperors, 541\n      Asclepius,\n            immense popularity of his worship, 459, 539;\n            temples of, and their routine and organisation, 460;\n            new oracle of, at Abonoteichos, 474\n      Asiaticus, freedman of Vitellius, history of, 206\n      Astrology,\n            influence of, in the early empire, a political danger, 45,\n            447;\n            astrologers banished by Claudius, Vitellius and Vespasian, 45,\n            448;\n            a Greek trade, 93;\n            Augustus burns books of, 446;\n            Tiberius believes in, 448;\n            Otho, 45, 448;\n            Titus, 449;\n            and M. Aurelius, 450;\n            Domitian, _ib._;\n            Hadrian, _ib._;\n            in Mithraism, 598, 602\n      Attis,\n            legend of, 549;\n            becomes a solar deity, 556\n      Augury,\n            decay of, 445;\n            abuse of, 532\n      Augustales, the,\n            Trimalchio one of, 136;\n            importance, organisation, social rank, and insignia in\n            municipal towns, 216, 217;\n            generosity of, as patrons of colleges, 275\n      Augustine, S.,\n            defends the Cynics of his time, 352;\n            contempt for rites of Magna Mater, 547;\n            on Varro\u2019s theology, 417, 531 n.;\n            on the cult of martyrs, 488;\n            on Plato, 523\n      Augustus,\n            his disguised power, 41;\n            destroys 2000 books of divination, 446;\n            his horoscope cast, 447;\n            his religious restoration, and its motive, 533;\n            attitude to foreign religions, 533;\n            restores a temple of Magna Mater, 548;\n            cautious acceptance of divine honours, 615\n      Aurelian,\n            his temple of the Sun, 586;\n            outbreak of the workmen of the Mint in his reign, 255;\n            legend _deo et domino nato_ on his coins, 618;\n            effect of his Sun-worship on the development of imperial\n            power, 619\n      Aurelius, M.,\n            slight interest of, in speculation, 339;\n            his tutors of various schools, 343;\n            as a boy recites the Salian litany, 385;\n            his gospel of renunciation, 393 sq.;\n            his conformity, 394;\n            employs diviners, 450;\n            relations of, with Galen, 506;\n            views of, about immortality, 507;\n            his Stoic ideal of life, 509;\n            his sadness and its causes, 510;\n            one of the Salii in his 8th year, 535;\n            his religious conservatism, 537;\n            images of, in every family in the West, 616\n\n      Balbilla, Greek verses by, 80\n      Birth,\n            respect for, in Juvenal, 69;\n            in D. Cassius, Suetonius, and Pliny, 70;\n            manufacture of genealogies, in Vit. Apollonius of Tyana, and\n            S. Jerome, _ib._;\n            Herodes Atticus traced his descent from the Aeacidae, 225;\n            Tiberius on, 70\n      Bithynia,\n            civic mismanagement in, 220;\n            literary distinction of, 372\n      Boeotia, the oracles of, 471\n      Brescia, high moral tone of, 147\n\n      Caenis, concubine of Vespasian, influence and intrigues of, 52, 115\n      Caligula,\n            wild schemes and profusion of, 32;\n            his cruelty and insolence to Senators, 51;\n            depraving example, 73;\n            consults the oracle of Fortune at Antium, 472;\n            apparitions at his burial, 490;\n            claims of divinity, 615\n      Calpurnia, Pliny\u2019s wife,\n            character of, and his love for her, 188, 189;\n            literary taste of, 80\n_      Canabae legionis_, at Lambesi, 208\n      Canusium,\n      _      Album_ of, 210;\n            Herodes Atticus gave an aqueduct to, 225\n      Captation,\n            a regular profession, 72;\n            result of plebeian poverty and aristocratic vice, 96;\n            at Croton, in Petronius, 127;\n            Regulus a captator, 156\n      Carnuntum, in Pannonia,\n            a seat of Mithraism from 70 A.D., 591;\n            its temples, 595;\n            temple restored at, by the imperial house, in the fourth\n            century, 619\n      Centumviral court, the,\n            picture of, in Pliny\u2019s Letters, 154 sqq.;\n            he welcomes young aristocrats to, 187\n      Chaeremon, Alexandrian librarian, wrote a treatise on Isis, 568\n      Charity, and munificence,\n            provision for poor children by Trajan and later Emperors, 192,\n            193;\n            private benevolence exemplified by Pliny, 193;\n            his benefactions, 193 sqq.;\n            other examples in the inscriptions, 193, 224;\n            the Stertinii, 224;\n            Dion Chrysostom and his father, 225;\n            Herodes Atticus, enormous benefactions of, _ib._;\n            munificence of the Emperors, Vespasian, Titus, Hadrian, 227,\n            228;\n            private examples from inscriptions, 223, 229;\n            ideals of the uses of wealth, 232;\n            men ruin themselves by generosity, 245\n      Cicero,\n            adorned by Pliny, 158;\n            on augury, 445;\n            on beneficence, 190;\n            on superstition, 443;\n            on legend, 495;\n            on Delphi, 471;\n            on immortality, 488\n      City life,\n            splendour of, in the Antonine age, 4;\n            weariness of life in the capital, 174;\n            growth of, in Gaul, Spain, Dacia, and Asia, 200 sqq.\n      Claudian,\n            connects Mithra with Bel, 588;\n            contempt for Greeks, 90\n      Claudius,\n            recruits the Senate from the provinces, 71, 72;\n            Hellenism of, 89;\n            his encouragement of trade, 264;\n            his effort to revive the art of augury, 445;\n            banishes the astrologers, 418;\n            conservative in religion, 536;\n            persecutes the Jewish and Druidic religions, 566\n      Claudius Etruscus, career of, and duties as minister, 109\n      Clea, a priestess of Osiris at Delphi, 424\n      Client, the,\n            in Juvenal, 93, 94;\n            change of the relation under the Empire, _ib._;\n            the relation in the colleges, 273\n      Clients,\n            position in the time of Juvenal, 93 sq.;\n            and Martial, 61\n      Clodius, P., uses the colleges, 254\n      Colleges, the,\n            plebeian class in towns, 251;\n            pride of free artisan class, 253;\n            early history of _Collegia_, 254;\n            danger from, 255;\n            restrained by law, _ib._;\n            an irresistible movement, 256;\n            wish for pious burial, 257;\n            evidence on, from inscriptions, 258;\n            funerary colleges authorised, 259;\n            consequences of the concession, 260;\n            College of Diana and Antinous, its organisation, fees, etc.\n            260 sqq.;\n            College of Aesculapius and Hygia, its regulations, 262;\n            colleges founded on religion, 263;\n            industrial colleges, great fair at Cremona, 264;\n            wandering traders, _collegia peregrinorum_, 265;\n            colleges at Lyons, Ostia, Arles, etc. 265 sq.;\n            objects of association, 266 sqq.;\n            favoured by masters, 267;\n            colleges moulded on the model of the city, names of offices,\n            etc. 269;\n            gradation of rank in, its object, 270;\n            how the _schola_ was provided, 271;\n            associations gather round it, gifts made to it, 272;\n            College of Silvanus at Philippi, _ib._;\n            patrons of, and their _raison d\u2019\u00eatre_, 273;\n            colleges and their patrons of very different rank, 274;\n            election of a patron, _ib._;\n            colleges founded to guard a tomb, 276;\n            provisions for permanent observances, 277;\n            college feasts and _sportulae_, 277 sq.;\n            regulations for decorum in, fines, 279;\n            the college a family, in which the slave is an equal, 281;\n            were colleges eleemosynary institutions? 282;\n            military colleges of Lambesi, their organisation and objects,\n            283 sqq.;\n            extinction of a college, 285\n      Commodus,\n            takes the tonsure of Isis and walks in an Isiac procession,\n            553;\n            assumes the Mithraic title of _Invictus_, 618\n      Como,\n            Pliny\u2019s estates at, 145;\n            his gifts to, 194;\n            a suicide at, 184;\n      _      honorarium_ of its curia, 209\n      Conversion,\n            Seneca on, 34;\n            result of the preaching of Apollonius, 347;\n            conversion of Polemon, _ib._;\n            of D. Chrysostom, 368;\n            in Plutarch, 413\n      Corellius Rufus, suicide of, 184\n      Cornelia, wife of Pompey, culture of, 80\n      Cotta, M. Aurelius, liberality of, to a freedman, 119\n      Country life,\n            growing love of, 174;\n            Roman country seats, their sites and architecture, 176;\n            extent and grounds, 178;\n            routine of life, 179;\n            purchase and management of estates, 180;\n            charm of the country in Roman literature, 197;\n            yet contempt for it, 199;\n            moral tone of, 2, 144, 147\n      Cremona,\n            great fair at, 263;\n            sack of, 264;\n            colleges of youth at, 265;\n            munificence of its citizens, 225\n      Curatores,\n            heard of first in the reign of Trajan, 222;\n            control of municipal finance by, 248\n      Curia, the,\n            composition of, illustrated by the roll of Canusium, 210;\n            numbers, and qualification of, 214;\n            its fate, 248\n      Cynics, the,\n            met a general demand for moral guidance, 340;\n            description of, in Dion Chrysostom, 349;\n            and in the literature of the age, 350 n.;\n            the Cynic in Lucian\u2019s _Banquet_, _ib._;\n            attractions of the life of, 351;\n            gross charges against; S. Augustine\u2019s testimony, 352;\n            causes of prejudice against, _ib._;\n            death of Peregrinus as treated by Lucian, 355;\n            affinity of, with Christian asceticism, 355, 361;\n            evidently a great popular force, 358;\n            a one-sided Stoicism, 359;\n            Cynic ideal, 359 sq.;\n            attitude to the Empire, 362 sq.;\n            and to popular religion, 363;\n            cultivated Cynics, 364 sqq.\n\n      Dacia,\n            organisation and town life of, 201;\n            worship of Magna Mater in, 549;\n            of Isis, 568;\n            settlement of, by Trajan, a seat of Mithraism, 594;\n            of the worship of Isis and Magna Mater, 549, 568\n      Daemons,\n            conception of, in Plutarch and Maximus of Tyre, 426;\n            history of, in Greek literature from Hesiod, 427;\n            use of the idea by Platonists, 425;\n            Xenocrates first taught the existence of evil daemons, 431\n            sq.;\n            employed by Plutarch to rehabilitate myth, 432;\n            believed in by the Fathers, 433;\n            a cause of oracular inspiration, 437;\n            mortality of, 426;\n            daemon of Socrates, 438;\n            daemon a higher self, 439;\n            daemonology an attempt to bridge the gulf between man and the\n            Infinite Spirit, 603\n      Dea Dia, worship of, 540\n      Delation,\n            history and causes of, 35;\n            delators of every rank, _ib._;\n            attractions of, wealth gained by, 36;\n            Regulus a delator, 37, 155;\n            Silius Italicus, 164;\n            under Domitian, 35\n      Delphi,\n            temple of Osiris at, 424;\n            Plutarch\u2019s love of, 403, 435;\n            decay of, in first century, 434;\n            revival of, 435;\n            why oracles were given in prose, 436;\n            sources of its inspiration, 437;\n            Nero\u2019s violence to, 472;\n            Hadrian tested, _ib._\n      Demetrius, the Cynic,\n            life of, 361;\n            a cultivated ascetic, 362;\n            knew Apollonius of Tyana, _ib._;\n            attitude to the Empire, beards Nero and Vespasian, _ib._\n      Demonax,\n            attitude to popular religion, 363;\n            origin, education, and philosophic tone of, 364;\n            fashion of his life and teaching, 365;\n            epigrams and sarcasms, 365 sq.;\n            his personal magnetism, and reverence for him after his death,\n            366\n      Dendrophori,\n            dedications by, to Magna Mater, 549;\n            in the inscriptions, 551;\n            at Lyons, 557\n      Dion Chrysostom,\n            view of the Cynics, 349;\n            early history, exile, conversion, and preaching of, 367 sq.;\n            orations of, 368;\n            simple philosophy, and view of the time, 369, 370;\n            warning to Tarsus, 370;\n            sermon at Olbia, 371 sq.;\n            picture of city life in Asia Minor, its vices and jealousies,\n            372 sqq.;\n            gospel of social charity, 373;\n            scorn for the Alexandrian character, 374;\n            his prose idyll on virtuous rural life in Euboea, 375 sq.;\n            view of prostitution and slavery, 376;\n            ideal of monarchy, parable of the Two Peaks, 377 sqq.;\n            oration at Olympia, 379 sq.;\n            suggested by Olympian Zeus of Pheidias, 380;\n            Dion\u2019s discussion on natural theology and anthropomorphism,\n            381;\n            makes Pheidias defend representation of the Infinite in human\n            form, 382;\n            his Zeus a moral ideal and spiritual power, 383\n      Domitian,\n            delators under, 35;\n            his belief in astrology, 45;\n            secret of his reign, 52;\n            value of the authorities on, 52 n.;\n            good traits in his character, 53;\n            his encouragement of literature and political merit, _ib._;\n            his Hellenism, 89;\n            a moral reformer, 54, 74;\n            causes of his unpopularity, 54;\n            contradictions in his character, 55;\n            replenishes the treasury by confiscation, 56;\n            his terror at the end, 56, 57, 450;\n            his funereal banquet, 57;\n            founds a quinquennial competition in literature, 171;\n            his superstition, 450;\n            a conservative in religion, 536;\n            celebrated the Quinquatria of Minerva, 538;\n            his victories, 542;\n            escaped from the capital in the vestments of Isis in 69 A.D.,\n            567;\n            built a temple to Isis, _ib._;\n            first called _Dominus et Deus_, 615\n      Dreams,\n            in temples of healing, 460;\n            dream-oracles, 461;\n            prescriptions in, 463, 464;\n            treatise of Artemidorus on, 467 sqq.;\n            his faith in, 468;\n            his absurdities, 470;\n            Pliny on, 452, 490\n\n      Education,\n            Vespasian endows, 148;\n            influence of Quintilian on, 149;\n            Pliny helps to endow a school at Como, 193;\n            culture in Asia Minor, 372;\n            among freedmen, 131, 134\n      Empire, the,\n            its temptations, 31;\n            the influence of the Emperor\u2019s example illustrated, 31;\n            how waste led to cruelty and confiscation, 33;\n            the secret of the imperial terror, various theories, 37;\n            the ideal of the Empire, 39, 43;\n            constant danger from pretenders, 40, 41, 44;\n            the fiction of Augustus, the Emperor\u2019s real power, 41;\n            checks upon it, 42;\n            its tolerance of municipal liberty, 203\n      Entellus, gardens of, 112\n      Epicharis, freedwoman, refuses to betray the Pisonian conspirators,\n      47\n      Epictetus,\n            his ideal of the Cynic philosopher, 359;\n            men the soldiers of God, 393;\n            gospel of renunciation in, _ib._ n. 5;\n            on augury and divination, 455;\n            early history of, 503;\n            attitude to belief in immortality, 504;\n            reference to female Platonists, 80;\n            preaching of gratitude and resignation, 393\n      Epicurus,\n            Seneca quotes, and defends to Lucilius, 306;\n            Aelian anathematises, 456;\n            Epicureans at Abonoteichos oppose Alexander, 476;\n            orders banquets to his shade, 456;\n            influence of, in last age of Republic, 530\n      Epidaurus,\n            temple of Asclepius at, 462, 539;\n            social life of the patients, 463\n      Equites,\n            in provincial towns, 215;\n            freedmen raised to the rank of, 113;\n            Juvenal\u2019s contempt for, 70;\n            general low estimate of, 113;\n            displace freedmen as imperial secretaries, 107;\n            employment by Vitellius, Domitian, Hadrian, and Antoninus\n            Pius, _ib._\n      Espionage,\n            under the Empire, 34;\n            under Domitian, 56\n      Euboea, D. Chrysostom\u2019s description of rural life in, 375\n      Euhemerus,\n            translated by Ennius, 530;\n            Plutarch on, 425\n      Euphrates,\n            Pliny\u2019s sketch of, 151;\n            suicide of, 356\n      Evil, Plutarch\u2019s theory of, 430\n      Extravagance,\n            of Nero, 20, 32;\n            of Domitian, 55, 56;\n            of Vitellius, 32;\n            of Caligula, 32;\n            under the Republic, 67\n\n      Fannia, widow of Helvidius Priscus, Pliny\u2019s admiration for, 152\n      Finance,\n            profusion of Caligula, 32;\n            straits of Domitian, 56;\n            economy of Vespasian, 32, 148;\n            Nero\u2019s waste and plunder, 20 sq.;\n            Nerva\u2019s retrenchment, 32;\n            waste of Vitellius, 32;\n            finance of provincial towns, 220, 248\n      Fortuna Augusti, 618\n      Freedmen, the,\n            their rise a great movement, 100;\n            prejudice against, 101 sqq.;\n            why it was natural, 103;\n            contempt of literary men for vulgar wealth, 104;\n            yet the rise of the freedmen a promising movement, 105;\n            rise of, in the imperial household, 106;\n            become great ministers, 107;\n            replaced gradually by Equites, 107;\n            early freedmen ministers worthy of their place, 108;\n            career of Claudius Etruscus and Abascantus, 109 sqq.;\n            of Narcissus and Pallas, 110, 111;\n            how their wealth was gained, 112, 129;\n            their politic splendour, 112;\n            romantic career of a freedman, 113;\n            yet freedmen despised and ostracised, _ib._;\n            sometimes made great marriages, 114;\n            doubtful position of women of this class, 114;\n            yet some had great influence, 115;\n            Panthea, mistress of L. Verus, picture of, by Lucian, _ib._;\n            lower freedmen in the imperial service, 116;\n            transition from slavery to freedom, how freedmen rose,\n            118-120;\n            grossness and ostentation of their wealthy class, 129 sqq.\n      Freedom and Necessity,\n            Plutarch\u2019s views of, 412;\n            Seneca\u2019s, 311\n\n      Gaius, on the law of Colleges, 254\n      Galen,\n            early history and training of, 505;\n            eclecticism of, _ib._;\n            views of immortality, _ib._;\n            relations with M. Aurelius, 506\n      Genii,\n            invented for every corporation and scene in Roman life, 386;\n            tales of, in Britain and on the Indian Ocean, 420, 426;\n            wide-spread cult of, 479 sq.\n      Gladiators,\n            municipal shows of, in Petronius, 134;\n            Trajan provides 10,000 on his Dacian triumph, 234;\n            protests against, by Seneca and Demonax, 235;\n            schools of, 236, 241;\n            shows began in Campania, _ib._;\n            school of, at Pompeii, 237;\n            notices in the inscriptions, 238;\n            enthusiasm for, _ib._;\n            shows in remote places, 239;\n            after battle of Bedriacum, 240;\n            less popular in Greece, except at Corinth, 241;\n            various cost of, 241;\n            classes who furnished gladiators, attractions of the\n            profession, 242 sq.;\n            organisation of a school; a college of gladiators, 243\n      God,\n            new conceptions of, 5;\n            in Seneca, 305;\n            God of the Stoics, varying conceptions of, 307;\n            demand for a moral God, 389;\n            Stoicism fades into Platonism, 391;\n            the Stoic god has no claim to worship, _ib._;\n            vague higher conceptions of, 396, 603;\n            a transcendent Deity, 397;\n            Plutarch\u2019s highest idea of, 418;\n            man\u2019s relation to, according to Maximus of Tyre, 421;\n            relation of, to daemons, 425 sqq.\n\n      Hadrian,\n            letter of, to Servianus, 397;\n            tests the omniscience of Delphi, 435;\n            dabbled in astrology, and other dark arts, 450, 503;\n            his love of travel, 503;\n            his faint belief in immortality, 503;\n            a sceptic, 536;\n            the Canopus of, at his villa at Tibur, 567;\n            conspiracy against, 41;\n            character of, 503\n      Hellenism,\n            various aspects of, reaction against, from the times of the\n            elder Cato, 88;\n            Hellenism of early Emperors, 88, 89;\n            Roman prejudice against Greeks, 90;\n            why Greeks succeeded under the Empire, 91;\n            Greek _grammatici_, 91;\n            Greeks as doctors, 92;\n            Greek parasites, 93;\n            love of Greek in Pliny\u2019s days, 166 sq.\n      Helvidius Priscus,\n            violence of, 40;\n            flouts Vespasian, _ib._\n      Herculaneum,\n            temple of Magna Mater at, 548;\n            frescoes of, illustrating the worship of Isis, 578\n      Herodes Atticus,\n            gifts of, to many communities, 225 sqq.;\n            friend of Demonax and Plutarch, 364, 403;\n            on the uses of wealth, 232;\n            claimed descent from the Aeacidae, 225\n      Herodotus,\n            identifies Greek and Egyptian deities, 561;\n            on Mithra, 589\n      Hesiod, on daemons, 427\n      Holconii, the, of Pompeii, public honours and benefactions of, 223\n      Horace,\n            love of the country, and memories of Mount Vultur in, 196,\n            198;\n            journey to Brundisium, 206;\n            on beneficence, 190\n      Hortensius, Q.,\n            luxury of, 71;\n            poverty of his descendants, _ib._\n\n      Icelus,\n            raised to rank by Galba, 107;\n            journey of, to Spain, 206\n      Immortality,\n            ideas of, depend on ideas of God, 484;\n            \u201cWe know not what we shall be,\u201d 485;\n            faith in the _Manes_, 486;\n            evidence of epitaphs on, 487 sqq.;\n            Lemures, 488 sq.;\n            the _Mundus_, 489;\n            mingled elements in Virgil\u2019s Inferno, 491 sqq.;\n            Roman longing for posthumous sympathy, 488;\n            Orphic and Pythagorean influences on Virgil, 494;\n            evidence of inscriptions on belief in, 496 sqq.;\n            Epicurean negation of, 498 sq.;\n            philosophic opinion on, 449 sqq.;\n            Lucretius and Julius Caesar on, 500, 501;\n            attitude of Epictetus, 504;\n            Galen\u2019s ideas of, 505 sq.;\n            M. Aurelius on, 507 sqq.;\n            Seneca on, 514 sq.;\n            Apollonius of Tyana on, 518 sq.;\n            Plutarch on, 521 sqq.;\n            Platonic imagery of the future world, and its influence on\n            Plutarch, 523 sq.;\n            belief in, fostered by Isiac worship, 575, 583;\n            and by Mithraism, 609\n      Inns, poor and disreputable, 207\n      Isis,\n            prescriptions of, in dreams, 461;\n            transformation of her worship by the Ptolemies, 560;\n            at the Peiraeus, _ib._;\n            influence of Greek settlers in Egypt, and of Greek mysticism,\n            561, 563 sq.;\n            lofty conception of, in Apuleius, 563;\n            date of her introduction in Italy, _ib._;\n            power over women, 565;\n            repeated persecution of her worshippers, first century, B.C.,\n            565;\n            in the reign of Tiberius, 566;\n            favoured by Otho and the Flavians, 567;\n            Domitian builds a temple to, in 92 A.D., classes who\n            propagated the worship of, 567 sq.;\n            spread through all Western Europe, 568 sq.;\n            secret of her fascination, 569;\n            highest conception of, 572;\n            a real spiritual power, 574;\n            gives the hope of immortality, 575;\n            impressive ritual of, 576;\n            daily offices, 577 sq.;\n            her rites in frescoes of Herculaneum, 578;\n            great festivals of, the procession to the shore described, 578\n            sq.;\n            her priesthood, including women, 580, 582;\n            sacred guilds, Isiaci, Pastophori, etc., 581;\n            syncretism of her worship, _ib._;\n            her priesthood a separate caste, their presbyteries, and\n            ascetic life, 582\n\n      Jerome, S.,\n            account of the grades of initiation in Mithraism by, 611;\n            genealogies in, 70\n      Jews,\n            growing influence of, in the first century A.D.;\n            especially under the Flavian dynasty, 83;\n            spread of Jewish observances, 84;\n            foster superstition, 84\n      Julian, his hatred of Oenomaus of Gadara, 364\n_      Jumentarii_, at the gates of towns, 206\n      Juvenal,\n            his views of society compared with Tacitus, 58;\n            social rank and early training of, 59;\n            experience as a client, _ib._;\n            bitterness of, 60;\n            dates of his _Satires_, 60;\n            he and Martial have a common stock of subjects, 60, 61;\n            plebeian pride, and old Roman prejudice, combined with the\n            moral feeling of a later age, 63;\n            attitude to religion, 64;\n            extravagant pessimism, his ideal in the past, 65;\n            great movements of society described by, and sometimes\n            misunderstood, 69;\n            decay of the noble class described by, 69;\n            contempt for new men, 70;\n            signs of aristocratic poverty, 72;\n            his ideal of senatorial dignity, 74;\n            treatment of women in the Sixth Satire, its faults, 76;\n            condemns mere eccentricities and even laudable tastes, 77;\n            distrusts growing culture of women, 79, 80;\n            fighting a lost battle, 81;\n            scorn for women\u2019s devotion to eastern cults, 82;\n            pessimism about women had some justification, 84 sqq.;\n            his judgments must be taken with some reserve, 87;\n            indignation at the invasion of the Greeks, 88;\n            humiliation of the client, 93;\n            general poverty, 95;\n            the cry of the poor, and Roman contempt for industry and\n            trade, 98;\n            Juvenal compared with Pliny, as a painter of society, 141\n\n      Lambaesis,\n            the camp at, how it grew into a _municipium_, 208;\n            military colleges at, 283;\n            temple of Isis at, 568;\n            worship of Mithra at, 595\n      Lanuvium, college at, 260\n      Lemuria, the, described, 489\n      Libraries,\n            restocked with MSS. by Domitian, 53;\n            Trimalchio\u2019s Greek and Latin libraries, 131;\n            rapid production of books, 156\n      Literature,\n            in the Antonine age, 3;\n            in Pliny\u2019s days, 157;\n            literary amateurs abound, _ib._;\n            Pliny\u2019s poetry, 159;\n            love of Cicero, 158;\n            the plague of readings, 160, 172;\n            decadence of, 163, 173;\n            Silius Italicus, 164 sq.;\n            composition in Greek, 166;\n            Titinius Capito, a historian, 167;\n            devotion to poetry, and its causes, influence of the Augustan\n            tradition, 169;\n            fashion of the archaic style, 170;\n            Domitian founds a literary competition, its influence, 171;\n            literary men generally born in provincial places, 196;\n            Demonax rebukes literary archaism, 367\n      Livy,\n            on decay of augury, 445;\n            on the Bacchanalian scandal, 563;\n            on the apocryphal books of Numa, 564\n      Lucan,\n            on the worship of Isis, 568;\n            betrays his mother, his death, 471;\n            style of, referred to in the _Satiricon_ of Petronius, 123\n      Lucian,\n            his war against the Cynics, 337;\n            yet sometimes approaches their view of life, 337 sq.;\n            the _Charon_ of, 338;\n            the _Hermotimus_ of, witnesses to a moral movement, 341 sqq.;\n            the Cynic in his _Banquet_, and _Fugitives_, 350;\n            his treatment of the character of Peregrinus, 354 sqq.;\n            visit to Olympia at the time of the Cynic\u2019s suicide, 355;\n            how he regarded it, and watched the growth of a myth, 357 sq.;\n            description of the new oracle of Abonoteichos, 474 sqq.;\n            ridicule of superstition in the _Philopseudes_, 490;\n            reference to Mithra, 590\n      Lucretius,\n            on immortality, 500, 501;\n            on Magna Mater, 547\n      Luxury,\n            Juvenal\u2019s view of, 65;\n            Roman luxury in Republican times, 67;\n            luxury a relative term, 68;\n            luxury of the Roman villa, chiefly in marbles, 177;\n            the luxury of travelling, progresses of Nero, 206\n\n      Maecenas,\n            counsels of, to Augustus in Dion Cassius, 446, 533;\n            Trimalchio, a freedman of, 128 n.\n      Magna Mater,\n            brought from Pessinus, 204 B.C., 548;\n            no Roman priest of, for 100 years, _ib._;\n            growing popularity of, at Rome, in Spain and Dacia, 549;\n            legend of, _ib._;\n            her festival in spring, 550;\n            her priests in the inscriptions, 550 sq.;\n            her sacred colleges, 551;\n            her disreputable followers in Apuleius, _ib._ sqq.;\n            her worship transmuted, 554;\n            the taurobolium and its history, 556;\n            alliance of, with Mithra, and Attis, 556 sq.;\n            women admitted to sacred rank, 557;\n            identified with Maia, Demeter, Bona Dea, etc., 559\n      Majesty, the law of, under the Empire, 33\n      Malaga, inscriptions of, 209\n      Manetho,\n            treatise of, on myths, 561;\n            assists the first Ptolemy in recasting Isiac worship, _ib._\n      Marcian, on Colleges, 255\n      Martial,\n            deals with the same social subjects as Juvenal, 61;\n            his graphic picture of the age, 61, 62;\n            better side of, love of country life, picture of the farm of\n            Faustinus, love of Bilbilis, 62;\n            on Regulus, 156;\n            on literary amateurs, 157;\n            on Silius Italicus, 158;\n            relations of, with Pliny, 158;\n            regret for the capital, 198\n      Maximus of Tyre,\n            character of his Discourses, 349;\n            conciliation of anthropomorphism with a higher vision of God\n            by, 395;\n            ethical theory of, 421;\n            daemonology of, 429;\n            fortified by tales of apparitions, 491;\n            influenced by Aristotle, 421\n      Medicine,\n            profession of, filled by Greeks, 92;\n            great physicians, Antonius Musa, the Stertinii, etc., _ib._;\n            sneers against, _ib._;\n            public physicians in municipal towns, 219;\n            income and munificence of the Stertinii, 224;\n            science of, in the second century, superstitious elements,\n            459;\n            how blended with real skill, 462;\n            skilled physicians in temples of Asclepius, 465\n_      Medixtuticus_, title of, still preserved in Oscan towns, 203\n      Minucius Felix,\n            quoted, 545;\n            on the festivals of Isis, 578 n.;\n            on daemons, 433\n      Miracles,\n            Origen and Celsus on, 481;\n            universal belief in, 482;\n            miracles in temples of Serapis, 573;\n            Vespasian consents to work, _ib._\n      Mithra,\n            growing power of, 386;\n            the taurobolium a part of his worship, 556;\n            alliance of, with Magna Mater and Attis, _ib._, 589 sq.;\n            in the Vedas and Avestas, 586;\n            in the Zoroastrian system, 587;\n            the God of kings, _ib._;\n            influence of Babylon on the worship of, 587;\n            influence of syncretism in Asia Minor on, 588;\n            the taurobolium probably borrowed, _ib._;\n            origin of the Tauroctonus group, date of the introduction of\n            the\n            cult into Europe, 590;\n            Plutarch\u2019s statement in the Life of Pompey, _ib._;\n            worship of, in the Flavian age, _ib._;\n            syncretism of, 592;\n            worship of, propagated by soldiers, civil servants, etc.,\n            _ib._;\n            stages of its diffusion through Italy, 593;\n            and north of the Alps, 594;\n            progress of the worship along the Danube, 594 sqq.;\n            legions which propagated it in Pannonia, 595;\n            remains of, in Upper Germany, 596;\n            in England, 597;\n            in Gaul, _ib._;\n            its many attractions, _ib._;\n            Persian symbolism, 598;\n            Babylonian elements in, astrology, 598, 602, sq.;\n            relative influence of Iran and Babylon, different views of,\n            599;\n            influence of Platonism and Pythagoreanism on, 600;\n            doctrine of the soul\u2019s descent, _ib._;\n            cosmic theory, doctrine of emanation, and deification of\n            elemental powers, 601 sqq.;\n            Mithra as mediator in two senses, 604 sq.;\n            the Dadophori, _ib._, 606;\n            the legend recovered from monuments, 605;\n            the _petra genetrix_, _ib._;\n            symbolism of the slaughtered bull, 606;\n            agape of Mithra and Sun, 607;\n            various interpretations of the legend, 607;\n            Mithraism a religion of combat, 608;\n            its consolations, _ib._;\n            its eschatology, 609;\n            effect of the taurobolium, _ib._;\n            ritual and sacraments of, 610;\n            daily offices, and festivals of, 611;\n            seven grades of the initiated, 611;\n            ordeals of, 612;\n            guilds of, 612;\n            rites regarded as a diabolic parody of the Church, 613;\n            description of the chapels of, _ib._ sq.;\n            how Mithraism escaped persecution, 614;\n            how it fostered theocratic ideas at Rome, 617 sqq.;\n            a great imperial cult, 619;\n            last days of, _ib._;\n            worship of, a great effort of syncretism, 620;\n            moral and mystic strength of, 621;\n            relations to Christianity, 622;\n            similarities between them, 623;\n            weaknesses of Mithraism, 624;\n            inseparably involved with Nature-worship, 626\n      Monarchy,\n            Seneca\u2019s conception of, 16;\n            hereditary succession and adoption, 27;\n            ideal of, in Dion Chrysostom, 377, sqq.;\n            apotheosis of, in third century, 615 sqq.;\n            attitude of Tacitus to, 21\n      Morals,\n            divorced from politics and speculation, 290 sq.;\n            became a religion in Seneca, 305;\n            relation of precept and dogma, _ib._;\n            freedom and necessity, 311;\n            the fall of man, 312;\n            Plutarch\u2019s theory of, 410 sqq.\n      Municipal life,\n            picture of, in Petronius, 133 sqq.;\n            rapid organisation of, in Spain, Gaul, Dacia, etc., immense\n            growth of towns, 200;\n            Baden in 69 A.D., 201;\n            Thamugadi in Numidia, 202;\n            policy of government towards provincial towns, 203;\n            drift towards uniformity of civic organisation, influence of\n            the capital, 204;\n            how towns were formed, 207;\n            development from _castra stativa_, 207, sq.;\n            soldiers allowed to live with their families in the third\n            century, 208;\n            municipal town aristocratic in constitution, 209, 231;\n      _      Album Canusii_, 210;\n            the _honestiores_, _ib._;\n            popular election the rule in the first century, 211;\n            magistracies, 212;\n            their burdens, signs of decay, 212;\n            powers of the duumvirs, 213;\n            the Curia, its numbers, qualification, and privileges, 214,\n            215;\n            local _Equites_, 215;\n            Augustales, their importance, organisation, insignia, etc.,\n            216, 217;\n            municipal finance, 218;\n            public charges, food, education, medical attendance, 219;\n            public works, 220;\n            finances, and maladministration of Bithynian towns in Trajan\u2019s\n            reign, 220, 221;\n            municipal life of Pompeii, 222, sqq.;\n            generous gifts to towns, 223, 225;\n            examples from the inscriptions, 226 sqq.;\n            public feasts on a great scale, 229;\n            gifts of money according to social rank, 230;\n            tone of town life, 231;\n            pleasures of, 233;\n            gladiatorial shows, 236 sqq.;\n            how the community rewarded benefactors, 244 sq.;\n            municipal meanness, 245;\n            decaying local patriotism, 246;\n            Plutarch on, 247;\n            growing centralisation and interference, 248;\n            shadows of the end, 249\n      Musonius,\n            his ideal of chastity, 77;\n            condemns the Sophists, 344;\n            exile of, under Nero; character of his teaching; preaches to\n            the soldiery in 69 A.D., 348\n\n      Nature,\n            love of, in Virgil, 197;\n            in Pliny, 174;\n            in Martial, _ib._, 62, 198\n      Nero,\n            hereditary taint of, 17;\n            not without some good qualities, 17;\n            could inspire affection, 18;\n            his devotion to art, and its evil results, 19;\n            a _cupitor incredibilium_, 20;\n            his waste leads to cruel oppression, 20, 21;\n            examples of wild profusion, 32;\n            his superstition, 45, 536;\n            compelled by the mob to recall Octavia, 49;\n            popular indignation at his appearance on the stage, 74;\n            the \u201cNoctes Neronis,\u201d 75;\n            his phil-Hellenism, 89;\n            silences Delphi, 434;\n            belief in astrology, 448;\n            propitiates his mother\u2019s shade, 491;\n            flattery of, by the Arval Brothers, 542;\n            worshipped by Tiridates, 617;\n            violence to Delphi, 472\n      Nerva,\n            retrenchments of, 32;\n            first provided for poor children, 192\n      Nicomedia, D. Chrysostom on its public vices, 373\n      Numa, apocryphal books of, 564\n\n      Octavia, divorced on false charge, and recalled by Nero at the\n      bidding of the mob, 49\n      Oenomaus of Gadara,\n            rejection of myth and oracles by, 363;\n            theory of oracles, 364;\n            Julian\u2019s denunciation of, _ib._\n      Olbia, D. Chrysostom\u2019s visit to, 371 sq.\n      Oracles,\n            decay of, 434;\n            revival of, 386;\n            theory of their inspiration, 437 sqq.;\n            and of their cessation, 437, 471;\n            that of Abonoteichos defers to the older, 472;\n            many oracles not silenced till the reign of Constantine, 473;\n            how an oracle was worked, 474;\n            oracles in Boeotia, 471\n      Orphic mysticism, the, 427;\n            influence of, on Virgil, 494;\n            on Mithraism, 600;\n            on belief in immortality, 516\n      Osterburken, remains of Mithra worship at, 596\n      Ostia,\n            colleges at, 215;\n            cult of Mithra at, 591;\n            temple of Magna Mater at, _ib._\n      Otho,\n            extravagance of, 32;\n            his belief in astrology, 45, 448;\n            devotion of soldiers to, 50;\n            his end, 449;\n            flattered by the Arval Brotherhood, 541;\n            the first Emperor who took part in Isiac worship, 566\n      Ovid,\n            his ideal of womanhood, 77, 142;\n            shocked by the influence of the theatre on women, 86;\n            attitude to religion, 532\n\n      Pallas, power and insolence of, receives the adulation of the\n      Senate, his wealth, and his end, 111\n      Panaetius and the Scipionic circle, 293;\n            modification of Stoicism by, 408;\n            abandons belief in immortality, 500;\n            rejects divination, 530;\n            little sympathy with popular religion, 531\n      Panthea, mistress of L. Verus, charms of, described by Lucian, 115\n      Paphlagonia, superstition of, 474\n      Pastophori of Isis, the,\n            recognised by Sulla, 565;\n            scribe of, 570\n      Peregrinus,\n            early history of, connection with the Christians, and\n            self-immolation, 354;\n            Lucian\u2019s attacks on his character, 354;\n            assumes that the motive of Peregrinus was notoriety, 356;\n            Peregrinus influenced by eastern mysticism, 355;\n            character of, in Aulus Gellius, 358\n      Pessimism,\n            of Seneca, 10, 11, 14, 303, 313;\n            of Tacitus, 30, 46;\n            Juvenal, 65;\n            M. Aurelius, 304, 335;\n            of the Greek poets, 416\n      Petronius,\n            shared in the \u201cNoctes Neronis,\u201d 75;\n            various opinions as to the date and object of his _Satiricon_,\n            120;\n            motive of the work, 122;\n            the Petronius of Tacitus, his character and his end; the\n            _Satiricon_ only a fragment, 124;\n            not without a higher moral tone, 125;\n            originality of Petronius, 126;\n            the scene and the characters, 127\n      Philosophy,\n            power of, in government, 6;\n            Stoic opposition in the first century, 39, 151 sqq.;\n            was it ever a dangerous force? 40;\n            new ideals of humanity, 63;\n            elevating influence of, 190;\n            change in the conception of, in the first century, 289;\n            practical interest in predominant, causes of the change, 339,\n            290 sq.;\n            eclecticism and scepticism in, _ib._, 408, 412;\n            necessity for moral reform, 292;\n            private direction of souls, 293;\n            directors in great houses, 294;\n            the philosopher a _generis humani paedagogus_, 299;\n            modifications of Stoicism in Seneca, 314 sqq., 306;\n            \u201cnulla virtus sine philosophia,\u201d 341;\n            eclecticism, 343;\n            the Cynic opposition, 362 sq.;\n            eclecticism of Dion Chrysostom, 368 sq.;\n            need of a philosophic th\u00e9odic\u00e9e, 384;\n            effort of, to rehabilitate myth, 432\n      Pheidias,\n            the Olympian Zeus of, 380;\n            his defence of anthropomorphism in D. Chrysostom, 382\n      Pisa, disturbance at elections in, 212\n      Piso, the conspiracy of, 47 sq.\n      Platonism,\n            few adherents of, in the first century, 408;\n            affected Panaetius, _ib._;\n            and Seneca, 308;\n            and Plutarch, 409;\n            its daemonology, 430;\n            encouraged belief in immortality, 501;\n            visionary power of the great Master, 523;\n            influence on Mithraism, 600\n      Plebeian life,\n            picture of, in Petronius, 132 sqq.;\n            in the inscriptions, 252 sq., 271\n      Pliny, the elder,\n            on Roman luxury, 67, 68;\n            care of his nephew, 145;\n            life, character, and prodigious industry of, 146;\n            scorn for popular religion, 535;\n            superstition of, 451;\n            rejection of immortality, 502;\n            on town life in Spain and Gaul, 201 sq.;\n            description of baths of Posides, 112;\n            on the Stertinii, 224\n      Pliny, the younger,\n            ideal of the principate in the _Panegyric_, 43;\n            compared with Juvenal as a painter of society, 141;\n            idealised his circle, 142, 185;\n            his blameless aristocrats, 144;\n            early life of, influence of Quintilian on, 149;\n            student friends, 150;\n            admiration of the Stoic circle, 151;\n            military service, and entrance on forensic work, 153 sq.;\n            the Centumviral court, 154 sq.;\n            sketch of Regulus, 155 sqq.;\n            passion for fame, 157;\n            literary amateurs, 157;\n            befriends Martial, 158;\n            admiration for Cicero, and for Greece, 158;\n            his loose verses, 159;\n            ideas of oratory, 160;\n            value of his Letters, 161, 163;\n            imitated in fourth century, _ib._;\n            their principle of arrangement, and date, 162;\n            his devotion to literature, 164;\n            admiration for Tacitus, _ib._;\n            his judgment of Silius Italicus, _ib._;\n            theory of life, 165;\n            literary coteries, Greek verse writing, 166;\n            writers of history, 167;\n            literary competitions, 171;\n            the plague of recitations; Pliny gives readings himself, and\n            punctually attends them: his estimate of their value, 173;\n            weariness of the capital and love of the country, 174;\n            not a sportsman, 175;\n            pictures of Roman country seats, 175;\n            routine of country life, 179;\n            management of rural estates, 180;\n            Pliny\u2019s kindness to slaves and dependents, 181;\n            view of suicide, 183;\n            Corellius Rufus, 184;\n            Pliny\u2019s belief in the solidarity of rank, and the duty of\n            mutual support, 186;\n            his superstition, 452, 490;\n            delight in helping young men of the upper class, 187;\n            love for Calpurnia, and ideal of girlhood, 188, 189;\n            last glimpse of Pliny and Calpurnia, 189;\n            he represents the finest moral tone of the age, 190;\n            his many benefactions and their amount, 193, 224\n      Plutarch,\n            on the duties of municipal life, 247;\n            early history of, 401;\n            friends of, at Rome, 402;\n            love of Chaeronea, and Delphi, 403;\n            visits to other parts of Greece, 403;\n            table talk of, 404;\n            his historic power, 406;\n            ethical motive in, predominant, 405;\n            admiration for Plato, 409;\n            eclecticism, _ib._;\n            attacks Stoic psychology, 410;\n            adopts some Aristotelian principles, 412;\n            yet has many Stoic elements, 414;\n            his treatment of Fate and free-will, 412;\n            ideal of moral teaching, 413;\n            conception of theology, 417;\n            idea of God, 418;\n            of matter and evil, 419;\n            treatment of myth and religious symbol, 423;\n            daemonology, 430 sqq.;\n            used to rehabilitate myth, 432;\n            interest in Delphi, 435 sqq.;\n            theory of inspiration, 439;\n            on the future state, 496 sq.;\n            on comfort in the Mysteries, 516;\n            Consolation to his wife on the death of their daughter, 520\n            sq.;\n            arguments for immortality, 521 sqq.;\n            visions of the future world, 523 sqq.;\n            reference to Mithra as a mediator, 590;\n            on the first appearance of Mithraism in Europe, 590;\n            tales of ghosts at Chaeronea, 490\n      Politta, wife of Rubellius Plautus, courage and devotion of, 49\n      Polybius, freedman minister of Claudius, life of, described by\n      Seneca, 108\n      Polybius, the historian, his attitude to Roman religion, 531\n      Pompeii,\n            situation and various industries of, 223;\n            family of the Holconii, Eumachia, their gifts to the town,\n            223;\n            amphitheatre and temple of Isis at, 224, 563;\n            election placards at, 211;\n            tombs of Alexandrian traders at, 567;\n            colleges of \u201clate sleepers\u201d and \u201clate drinkers\u201d at, 265\n      Pontifex Maximus, the, 534;\n            office held by the Emperors, its power, 535\n      Poppaea, her sympathy with Judaism, 83\n      Post, the public,\n            organisation of, 206;\n            Pliny\u2019s use of, for Calpurnia, 189\n      Poverty,\n            contempt for, 104;\n            common in Juvenal\u2019s time, 94;\n            D. Chrysostom on, 375\n      Prayer,\n            an effort of adoration, 394;\n            a colloquy with God, 420\n      Preachers, the philosophic,\n            Apollonius, 347;\n            Musonius, 348;\n            Maximus of Tyre, 349;\n            Dion Chrysostom, 370 sqq.\n      Prudentius, description of the taurobolium by, 558\n      Public works,\n            mismanagement of, in Bithynia, 220 sq.;\n            curator of, _ib._;\n            undertaken by private persons, evidence of inscriptions on,\n            225 sq.\n      Pythagoreanism,\n            not extinct in the first century B.C., 398;\n            daemonology of, 428;\n            influence of, on Virgil, 493 sq.;\n            on Seneca, 515;\n            connection with the Mysteries, 516;\n            spiritual influence of, 517;\n            influence on the mythology of Egypt, 562;\n            and on Mithraism, 600\n\n      Quintilian,\n            career of, as a teacher, and high moral influence, 149;\n            treats immortality as an open question, 502\n\n      Readings,\n            the plague of, in Juvenal, 59, 95;\n            in Pliny, 160, 173;\n            in Martial, 61\n      Regulus, M. Aquilius,\n            career of, as delator, 37;\n            as pleader, his wealth, and eccentricities, 155, 156\n      Religion, old Roman,\n            decay of, from the second Punic War, 529;\n            its causes, 530;\n            attitude to, of Varro, Panaetius, Polybius, 531;\n            Augustan restoration of, 533;\n            conservative influence of the chief pontificate, 535;\n            early emperors continue the Augustan policy, 536;\n            reverence for the oldest Latin deities in the inscriptions,\n            538;\n            Jupiter, 543;\n            Hercules, Silvanus, and the Nymphs, 539;\n            revival of the Arval Brotherhood, 540 sqq.;\n            feeling of the educated to, 544;\n            real strength of, 545;\n            last champions of, in the fourth century, 546;\n            its formalism compared with the eastern worships, 554\n\n      Scepticism,\n            from the second Punic War, 530;\n            the scepticism of the elder Pliny, Seneca, Juvenal, etc., 535\n      Seleucus, an astrologer of Otho, 448\n      Senate, the,\n            prestige and ancient claims of, 38;\n            hated and feared by bad princes, 38, 39;\n            respect for, under good Emperors, 39;\n            theoretical position of, under the Empire, 41, 42;\n            Pliny\u2019s _Panegyric_ throws light on, 44;\n            moral degradation of, shown in 69 A.D., 50;\n            poverty of many great houses, 51, 71;\n            insults heaped on, by Emperors, 51;\n            reduction of its numbers by massacre etc., 71;\n            great families pensioned by Emperors, 71;\n            Senators compelled to act and fight as gladiators, 73, 74;\n            scorn of, for freedmen, 113;\n            frivolity of, in Pliny\u2019s time, 185;\n            senatorial life in the country, 174 sqq.\n      Seneca,\n            his experience of the tyranny, 7, 8;\n            sad close of his life, 9;\n            knowledge of character, how acquired, 9;\n            conception of the state of nature, and pessimism of, 10, 11,\n            14, 304, 313;\n            ghastly picture of high society, 11;\n            of slavery, 12, 329;\n            his terrors, 13;\n            attitude to philosophic revolutionaries, 15;\n            conception of imperial power, 16;\n            ideal of female character and capacity, 188;\n            anticipates the movement of the Antonine age, 190;\n            as a spiritual director, 294;\n            his undoubted power, 295;\n            his experience prepared him for the work, 296 sqq.;\n            his court-life and wealth, _ib._;\n            contrasts in, 297;\n            calumnies against, 298;\n            conception of the great office of philosophy, 299;\n            attitude to liberal studies, 300;\n            treatment of Physics, the moral effects and lessons of the\n            study, 301 sqq.;\n            intense earnestness of, 304;\n            defends and quotes Epicurus, 306;\n            yet often a Stoic dogmatist, _ib._;\n            conception of God, 307, 390;\n            influenced by Platonism, 308;\n            his psychology, 308 sq.;\n            necessity and conversion, 311;\n            the fall of man, 312;\n            Aristotelian elements in, 314 sq.;\n            humility of, 316;\n            his disciples of the upper class, 317;\n            on philosophic retreat, 318;\n            his precepts for moral growth, 320 sqq.;\n            death a mere bugbear, 322;\n            attitude to myth, _ib._;\n            on public duty, 325;\n            on the social instinct, kindness, forgiveness, etc., 327;\n            his ideal of womanhood, 329;\n            Seneca and Thomas \u00e0 Kempis, 331;\n            his view of immortality approaches the Christian, 5, 13 sqq.;\n            Pythagorean influences on, 515\n      Sentinum, college of Mithra at, 593\n      Serapis,\n            his temple of healing at Canopus, 461;\n            his origin, various theories of, 561 sq.;\n            linked with Jupiter in the inscriptions, 562;\n            lofty conception of, in Aristides, 572, 574;\n            miracles in his temples, 573;\n            a guide and judge of souls, 575;\n            his boundless sway, 583\n      Sidonius Apollinaris,\n            imitation of Pliny\u2019s Letters in, 162 sq.;\n            refers to Sulpicia, 80;\n            to Petronius, 121\n      Silius Italicus,\n            Pliny\u2019s estimate of, 164;\n            career and tastes of, 165;\n            a connoisseur, 177;\n            suicide of, 184\n      Slavery,\n            moral and political effects of, according to Seneca, 12;\n            courage of Octavia\u2019s slave girls, 48;\n            transition from slavery to freedom, 116 sq.;\n            kindly feeling, 117, 257;\n            manumission, how obtained, 118;\n            growing _peculium_ of trusted slaves, 118;\n            tie between patron and freedman, 119;\n            duties and generosity of patrons, _ib._;\n            rise of the freedmen, _ib._;\n            Pliny\u2019s kindness to slaves, 181;\n            harsh masters and their perils, 182;\n            slave class dwindling, 252;\n            slaves in the colleges, 281\n      Society,\n      _      circuli_, 13;\n            gossip, 33;\n            extravagant luxury, 66;\n            respect for birth and manufacture of genealogies, 69, 70;\n            poverty and mendicancy of great houses, 71, 72;\n            wider interests among women 78;\n            culture of Roman women from Cornelia to Serena, wife of\n            Stilicho, 80;\n            dangerous temptations of women\u2019s life, 85 sq.;\n            general poverty under the Empire, 94 sq.;\n            mean trades more lucrative than cultivated professions, 95;\n            society materialised, _ib._;\n            contempt for poverty, 97;\n            grossness of freedmen, 132 sqq.;\n            a sounder class in the worst days, 143;\n            wholesome force of Roman tradition, and country life, 144;\n            old-fashioned retreats of virtue, 147;\n            love of country life, 174;\n            suicide, 183;\n            wedded life of Calpurnia and Pliny, 188 sq.;\n            new moral ideals in Seneca, Juvenal, and Pliny, 190;\n            duties of wealth, 191;\n            public spirit of the age, 193;\n            rage for amusement, 234 sqq.;\n            municipal gratitude and meanness, 245;\n            need of association in clubs, etc., 256 sqq.;\n            immense force of the movement, 266 sqq.;\n            ennui and self-abandonment of upper class, 304, 319 sq.;\n            need for popular evangelism, how the Cynics supplied it, 335,\n            360\n      Socrates, theories of his daemon, 438\n      Sophists, the,\n            influence of, 4;\n            frivolous subjects and showy style of, condemned by\n            philosophers, 344;\n            Plutarch\u2019s opinion of, 413\n      Sotion, trains Seneca in Pythagorean asceticism, 296\n      Spain,\n            growth of towns in, 200;\n            journey of Icelus in, to reach Galba, 206;\n            little affected by Mithraism, 597;\n            worship of Isis in, 567\n      Spectacles, the,\n            Senators descend into the arena, 73;\n            women present at, mingling with men at the Circus, 86;\n            obscenities of the theatre, _ib._;\n            number of days in the year given to, 234;\n            scene in Flavian Amphitheatre, 235\n      Spurinna, Vestricius,\n            a verse writer, 166;\n            his orderly life a type, 175\n      Statius,\n            his sketches of the great imperial freedmen, 109 sqq.;\n            of the villas of Manlius Vopiscus, and Pollius Felix, 176;\n            reference to Mithra in the _Thebaid_, 589 sq.\n      Stoicism,\n            the God of, 307;\n            gospel of, in Seneca, 309 sq.;\n            freedom and necessity, 311;\n            weakness of its moral theory, 313;\n            instantaneous conversion, _ib._;\n            no intermediate states of character, _ib._;\n            modifications of, 314;\n            relation to Cynicism, 323, 359;\n            competing tendencies in, 324;\n            the two cities, Zeno on civic duty, 325;\n            the brotherhood of man, 328;\n            the religion of Stoicism breaks down, 391, 512;\n            later Stoic mysticism, 392;\n            influence of Panaetius, 408, 530;\n            its theory of human nature assailed by Plutarch, 410 sq.;\n            older Stoic belief in a limited immortality, 500;\n            ideal of life in M. Aurelius, 509;\n            Stoic attitude to augury, etc., 530\n      Strabo,\n            on oracles and augury, 471;\n            on the temple of Serapis at Canopus, 461\n      Suetonius,\n            career of, 168;\n            Pliny\u2019s friendship for, _ib._;\n            a dilatory author, 168;\n            superstition of, 452, 535;\n            secretary of Hadrian, 169\n      Suffetes, title of, preserved in Africa under the Empire, 203\n      Suicide,\n            Pliny\u2019s view of, 183;\n            suicide of Euphrates, 356;\n            Stoic view of, 356;\n            suicide of Peregrinus, 357;\n            of Silius Italicus, 184;\n            of Corellius Rufus, 184;\n            Hadrian\u2019s wish for, 356;\n            a suicide on Lake Como, 184\n      Sulla, recognises the Isiac cult in 80 B.C., 565\n      Sulpicia, verses of, mentioned by Martial and Sidonius, 80\n      Sun worship,\n            the highest form of nature-worship, 585 sq.;\n            Aurelian\u2019s temple, 586;\n            Mithra identified with the Sun at Babylon, 587;\n            influence of, in fostering theocratic ideas in the Empire, 617\n            sq.\n      Superstition,\n            tales of, at Trimalchio\u2019s table, 131, 136;\n            of Regulus, 156;\n            of Suetonius and Pliny, 168;\n            various conceptions of, 443;\n            Plutarch on, 443 sq.;\n            astrology, 446 sqq.;\n            superstition of the Emperors, 447 sqq.;\n            of the great writers of the age, 451 sqq.;\n            its connection with medicine in the temples, 459;\n            dream oracles, 461;\n            Aristides has visits from the gods, 466;\n            superstition of Rutilianus and the Roman nobles in the reign\n            of M. Aurelius, 475;\n            rampant in Paphlagonia, 476 sq.;\n            cult of _Genii_, 479;\n            universal belief in miracles, 482;\n            apparitions in the _Philopseudes_ of Lucian, 490;\n            encouraged by Mithraism, 602\n      Symmachus,\n            religious conservatism of, 546;\n            Letters of, 161\n      Syncretism,\n            in Aristides, 388;\n            in Apuleius, _ib._;\n            in Plutarch, 424;\n            of the oriental worships, 558;\n            in the worship of Isis, 581;\n            and of Serapis, 583;\n            Mithraism the greatest effort of, 585, 592;\n            at Babylon, 587;\n            in Asia Minor, 588\n\n      Tacitus,\n            his attitude to the tyranny of the early Caesars, 21;\n            early history and experience of, 22;\n            various views of, 23;\n            the key to his tone as a historian, 24;\n            a moralist, rather than a politician, 25, 26;\n            views of the future, 26, 27;\n            belief in birth and traditions, 28;\n            early training, and ideal of family life, 28, 29;\n            admiration for Agricola, 29;\n            his experience had affected his ideas of human nature and of\n            the Divine government, 30;\n            gloomy view of the time, 46;\n            wavering attitude to superstition, 453, 535;\n            faint hope of immortality, 502;\n            account of Serapis, 562\n      Tarsus, D. Chrysostom on its vices, 370\n      Taurobolium, the,\n            enthralling power of, 547;\n            first glimpse of, 549;\n            offered for Ant. Pius in 160, _ib._;\n            suspected by the Fathers, 555;\n            history of, 556;\n            Anaitis and Artemis Tauropolus, _ib._;\n            question whether it became part of the worship of Mithra,\n            _ib._, 609;\n            its ceremonial and cost, 557 sq.;\n            its meaning and effects, 609\n      Tertullian,\n            his tale of a priest of Cybele, 549;\n            on the taurobolium, 555;\n            holds up priests of Isis as an example, 582;\n            his view of the sacraments of Mithra, 613\n      Theagenes,\n            pupil of Peregrinus, 354;\n            lectures in Rome, _ib._\n      Theatre, the, a great corruptor, 86\n      Thespesius of Soli, his vision of the unseen world, 524\n      Thrasea, his character, compared with Paetus and Helvidius Priscus,\n      152\n      Thrasyllus, an astrologer of Tiberius, 448\n      Tiberius,\n            conservatism of, in religion, 536;\n            little sympathy with Hellenism, 88;\n            cost of his gladiators, 241;\n            belief in astrology, 448;\n            tried the lottery at Padua, 472;\n            persecutes the eastern cults, 566;\n            treatment of descendants of Hortensius, 71;\n            his _mot_ on birth, 70\n      Timarchus, his visit to the other world, 526 sq.\n      Titinius Capito, writes a history of the victims of the Terror, 167\n      Titus,\n            his love of the East and superstition, 449;\n            visit to shrine of the Paphian Venus, 472\n      Trade,\n            great fair at Cremona, 264;\n            wandering traders, their colleges, _ib._;\n            immense development of, 253, 265;\n            Juvenal\u2019s contempt for, 98;\n            encouragement of, by Claudius, 264\n      Trajan,\n            provision of, for poor children, 192;\n            his friendship with Dion Chrysostom, 369 sq.;\n            vows of the Arval Brotherhood for, 542;\n            Pliny\u2019s _Panegyric_ on, 43\n      Travel,\n            became general, 205;\n            example of Hadrian, _ib._;\n            easy and luxurious, _ib._;\n            facilities of posting, 206;\n            speed of, by land and sea, 206;\n            passion for change of scene, 330 sqq.;\n            travels of Aristides, 464;\n            of Dion Chrysostom, 368\n      Trimalchio, the, of Petronius,\n            sketches his own career, 129;\n            his estates, _ib._;\n            description of, _ib._;\n            surprises of his dinner, 130;\n            his libraries and his ignorance, 131;\n            treatment of his wife, 137;\n            gives an order for his monument, 136\n      Trophonius, the oracle of, 461\n\n      Ummidia Quadratilla,\n            character in Pliny\u2019s Letters, 185;\n            builds a temple and amphitheatre for Casinum, 224\n\n      Varro,\n            theology of, 417, 531 sq.;\n            on Magna Mater, 547;\n            Saturae Menippeae of, 126\n      Veleia, tablet of, 192\n      Verginius, Rufus, guardian of Pliny, 145\n      Vespasian,\n            accession of, a moral revolution, 1;\n            his economies, 32, 227;\n            tolerance of the Stoic opposition by, 40;\n            treatment of astrologers, 45;\n            defamed by men of the Neronian circle, 52;\n            Hellenism of, 89;\n            love of old associations, 148;\n            his immense task; combined economy and liberality, 148;\n            banishes the astrologers, yet believes in them, 449;\n            consults the oracle on Mount Carmel, 472;\n            conservative in religion, 536;\n            restores the shrine of Magna Mater at Herculaneum, 548;\n            consents to work miracles at Alexandria, 573\n      Vestinus, Atticus, suicide of, under Nero, 48\n      Vestinus, Julius, chief pontiff of Egypt, a secretary of Hadrian,\n      568\n      Virgil,\n            immense popularity of, his verses in the Graffiti of Pompeii,\n            170;\n            pictures of rural scenery by, 197;\n      _      Sortes Virgilianae_ consulted by Hadrian, 450;\n            Inferno of, its discordant conceptions, 491 sqq.;\n            recitation of the Aeneid at Trimalchio\u2019s table, 131\n      Vitellius,\n            cruelty and ghastly end of, 240;\n            superstition of, 449;\n            profusion of, 32;\n            treatment of his freedman, Asiaticus, 206;\n            employs _Equites_ as imperial secretaries, 107;\n            his horoscope, 449\n\n      Women,\n            high ideal of, in the first century, 77;\n            growth of wider interests in, 78;\n            superstition among, _ib._;\n            emancipation of, began long before the Empire, 79;\n            vices of, in the time of the elder Cato, _ib._;\n            Roman ideal of, lasted to the end, _ib._;\n            cultivated women from Cornelia to Serena, 80;\n            growing influence of, in public life, 81;\n            \u201cMothers of the camp, _patronae_,\u201d _Curia mulierum_ at\n            Lanuvium, 81;\n            attractions of eastern cults for, 82;\n            Roman girls carefully guarded till marriage, when their perils\n            began, 84;\n            temptations of Roman matrons, _ib._;\n            dangers of the Circus, theatre, and gladiatorial shows, 86;\n            manners in the freedwomen class, 135;\n            good women of Pliny\u2019s circle, 145;\n            others of doubtful character, 185;\n            Calpurnia, wife of Pliny; their ideal married life, 188 sq.;\n            beautiful character of a girl, 189;\n            ideal of, in Seneca, 329;\n            light women keep fasts of Isis, 553, 565, 570;\n            female worshippers of Magna Mater, 557\n\n      Xenocrates, on bad daemons, 431, 433\n      Xenophanes, on legend, 544\n\n      Zoticus, freedman of Elagabalus, sources of his wealth, 112\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                                 THE END\n\n\n\n\n\n\n    _Printed in Great Britain by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                FOOTNOTES\n\n\n_    1 Ann._ iii. 55; xvi. 5; cf. Suet. _Vesp._ ix. xii.\n\n    2 Suet. _Vesp._ ii. quare princeps quoque et locum incunabulorum\n      assidue frequentavit, manente villa, qualis fuerat olim, etc.\n\n    3 Tac. _Ann._ xv. 23; xvi. 21, 34; _Agric._ 2, 45; Plin. _Ep._ iii.\n      16, \u00a7 10; vii. 19, \u00a7 3; iii. 11, \u00a7 3; ix. 13, \u00a7 3.\n\n    4 Tac. _Ann._ xiv. 60.\n\n    5 Tac. _Ann._ iv. 6; i. 80; xiii. 50, 51; xi. 24; Suet. _Nero_, x.;\n      _Dom._ viii.; cf. Merivale, vii. 385; Renan, _Ap\u00f4tres_, p. 308 sqq;\n      Gr\u00e9ard, _Morale de Plut._ p. 200.\n\n    6 Suet. _Vitell._ v.; _Otho_, iii. provinciam administravit\n      moderatione atque abstinentia singulari.\n\n    7 Sen. _Ep._ 47; _De Ira_, i. 5; iii. 24; _De Benef._ iv. 11, \u00a7 3; _De\n      Brev. Vit._ xiii. \u00a7 7; Plin. _Ep._ iv. 22; Juv. xiv. 15 sqq.; xv.\n      131; D. Cass. lxvi. 15; _Or. Henz. Inscr. Lat._ 7244, Bene fac, hoc\n      tecum feres; Denis, _Hist. des Id\u00e9es Morales_, ii. 156, 172, 181.\n\n    8 Sid. Apoll. _Ep._ viii. 6, \u00a7 5.\n\n_    9 Or. Henz._ iii. Ind. p. 27 sq.\n\n   10 Apul. _Apol._ c. 55, sacrorum pleraque initia in Graecia\n      participavi, et plurimos ritus ... didici; Lamprid. _Alex. Sev._ c.\n      29, 43.\n\n   11 Max. Tyr. _Diss._ viii.; xi. \u00a7 3; xvii.; D. Chrys. _Or._ xii. \u00a7 83.\n\n   12 Renan, _Les \u00c9vangiles_, p. 382.\n\n   13 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ iv. 420; Denis, _Id\u00e9es Morales_, ii. 200\n      sqq.; Renan, _M. Aur\u00e8le_, p. 24 sqq.\n\n   14 Luc. _Som._ 32; _Traj._ 15; _Charon_, 15, 20; _Tim._ 14, 36; M.\n      Aurel. v. 10, 33: ix. 29; 34; x. 19: cf. Sen. _De Ira_, ii. 8; _Ad\n      Marc._ ii. 17, 20, 22; Petron. _Sat._ 88.\n\n_   15 Ep._ 108, \u00a7 22; cf. Suet. _Tib._ lxi. nullus a poena hominum\n      cessavit dies.\n\n   16 Suet. _Tib._ 61; Tac. _Ann._ iv. 34.\n\n   17 D. Cass. lix. 19; Suet. _Calig._ 53.\n\n_   18 Nec. Inj._ xviii.; cf. Suet. _Calig._ 50; Sen. _De Ira_, i. 20;\n      iii. 18; _De Tranq._ xiv.; _Ad Polyb._ xiii. xvii.; _Ad Helv._ x. 4;\n      _De Benef._ iv. 31.\n\n   19 Sen. _De Ira_, ii. 33.\n\n   20 Tac. _Ann._ xii. 8; D. Cass. 60. 8; 61. 10; Sen. _Ad Polyb._ 13. 2;\n      _Ad Helv._ 15. 2.\n\n   21 For the worst charges _v._ D. Cass. lxii. 2; lxi. 10; Tac. _Ann._\n      13. 13.\n\n   22 D. Cass. _l.c._; Tac. _Ann._ 13. 42. But cf. Seneca\u2019s reply, Tac.\n      _Ann._ 14. 53, and 15. 62.\n\n   23 Tac. _Ann._ 15. 65.\n\n   24 Sen. _Frag._ 108.\n\n   25 Sen. _De Tranq._ x. 6.\n\n   26 Sen. _Ep._ i. 18; Tac. _Ann._ 14. 52.\n\n_   27 Ep._ 70, \u00a7 14; 88, \u00a7 17; _Ep._ 77; _De Ira_, iii. 15; _Ad Helv._ 5,\n      \u00a7 4.\n\n   28 Mart. vii. 27, 11; Juv. xi. 4; Sen. _Dial._ 1, 5, 4; _De Benef._\n      vii. 22, 2; Friedl. _Sittengesch._ i. 281.\n\n   29 Sen. _De Ira_, ii. 33; _De Tranq._ xii. 7.\n\n   30 Sen. _Ep._ 97, \u00a7 2; Sen. _De Benef._ i. 10, \u00a7 1. Cf. _De Ira_, ii.\n      8; _Ep._ 95, \u00a7 20; _Ep._ 115, \u00a7 10.\n\n   31 Sen. _Ep._ 90, \u00a7 42.\n\n_   32 Ep._ 90, \u00a7 40.\n\n_   33 Ib._ 90, \u00a7 38.\n\n_   34 Ib._ 90, \u00a7 5, \u00a7 36, avaritia atque luxuria dissociavere mortales.\n\n_   35 Ib._ 90, \u00a7 12.\n\n   36 Sen. _Ep._ 90, \u00a7 19.\n\n_   37 De Brev. Vit._ xvi. tarde ire horas queruntur; _Ep._ 77; _Ep._ 104,\n      \u00a7 15.\n\n_   38 Ep._ 115, \u00a7 10; _De Ira_, iii. 33; _Ep._ 60; _Ep._ 74.\n\n_   39 Ad Polyb._ vi. 5, magna servitus est magna fortuna.\n\n_   40 De Ira_, ii. 8.\n\n_   41 De Ira_, ii. 33.\n\n_   42 Ib._ iii. 35, deinde idem de republica libertatem sublatam quereris\n      quam domi sustulisti.\n\n_   43 Ib._ iii. 24, 32; Petron. _Sat._ 49, 53; Sen. _Ep._ 47, \u00a7 10; Juv.\n      vi. 490; Sen. _De Clem._ i. 18.\n\n   44 Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ ii. 353; Marq. _Priv._ i. 142; Wallon,\n      _L\u2019Escl. dans l\u2019Ant._ ii. 146.\n\n   45 Sen. _De Brev._ _V._ xiii.\n\n_   46 Ib._ xvi. transilire dies volunt.\n\n   47 Id. _Ep._ 104, \u00a7 15; 89, \u00a7 20; _Ep._ 28.\n\n   48 Id. _De Tranq._ xii. \u00a7 7.\n\n   49 Mart. ii. 7, 8 (_v._ note on the word in Friedl\u00e4nder\u2019s ed.); iv. 78.\n\n   50 Sen. _Ep._ i. 9; cf. Friedl. _Sittengesch._ i. 271.\n\n   51 Juv. xi. 4; Mart. vii. 97; Quintil. vi. 3, 105; Sen. _De Tranq._\n      xii. \u00a7 7; _De Ben._ vii. 22, 2; _De Prov._ i. 5, 4; Boissier,\n      _L\u2019Opp._ p. 201 sqq.\n\n_   52 Ad Marc._ xx.; _De Tranq._ x.; _Ep._ 94 _ad fin._; _Ep._ 70.\n\n_   53 Ep._ 90, \u00a7 43, at vos ad omnem tectorum pavetis sonum et inter\n      picturas vestras, si quid increpuit, fugitis attoniti.\n\n_   54 Ep._ 70, \u00a7 14; _Ep._ 88, \u00a7 17, malis paratus sum; _Ep._ 24, \u00a7 11;\n      _Ad Polyb._ ix. nullus portus nisi mortis; _Ad Marc._ xx. mors quae\n      efficit ut nasci non supplicium sit.\n\n_   55 Ad Marc._ x.\n\n_   56 Ad Polyb._ vi.\n\n_   57 Ad Marc._ xxii. \u00a7 3.\n\n_   58 Ad Polyb._ ix.; _Ep._ 77; _Ad Marc._ xxi. \u00a7 7.\n\n_   59 Ep._ 108, \u00a7 17. He adopted the Pythagorean discipline under the\n      influence of Sotion, a pupil of Sextius, but gave it up on the\n      proscription of suspected rites in the reign of Tiberius, cf. Suet.\n      _Tib._ 36; cf. Zeller, _Die Phil. der Gr._ iii. 1, 605.\n\n   60 D. Cass. 62. 2; 61. 10. Zeller, iii. 1, 641, n. 1.\n\n   61 D. Cass. _l.c._\n\n_   62 Tac. Ann._ xv. 55.\n\n   63 Suet. _Vesp._ 15.\n\n   64 Sen. _Ep._ 73, \u00a7 3.\n\n_   65 Ib._ 103, \u00a7 4.\n\n_   66 De Clem._ i. 19; Plin. _Paneg._ i. 72; D. Chrys. _Or._ ii. \u00a7 77;\n      iii. \u00a7 39; 70 sqq.\n\n   67 Suet. _Dom._ 23; _Nero_, 57; cf. Tac. _Hist._ i. 7, ipsa aetas\n      Galbae irrisui ac fastidio erat adsuetis juventae Neronis et\n      imperatores forma ac decore corporis ... comparantibus.\n\n   68 Suet. _Calig._ 50; cf. Sen. _Nec. Inj._ 18; _De Ira_, i. 20; ii. 33;\n      iii. 18; _De Ben._ ii. 12, 21.\n\n   69 Suet. _Calig._ 38.\n\n   70 Id. _Nero_, 6.\n\n_   71 De Clem._ i. 1, \u00a7 2, electusque sum qui in terris deorum vice\n      fungerer.\n\n_   72 Ib._ i. \u00a7 5.\n\n_   73 Ib._ i. 4, 1, ille vinculum per quod respublica cohaeret, ille\n      spiritus vitalis.\n\n_   74 Ib._ i. 17, 1.\n\n_   75 Ib._ i. 7, 2.\n\n_   76 De Clem._ i. 12.\n\n_   77 Ib._ i. 13, 2, scelera enim sceleribus tuenda sunt.\n\n   78 Renan, _L\u2019Ant\u00e9chr._ p. 125.\n\n_   79 De Clem._ i. 1, \u00a7 2, egone ex omnibus mortalibus placui electusque\n      sum qui in terris deorum vice fungerer?\n\n   80 Suet. _Nero_, c. 4.\n\n_   81 Ib._ c. 5.\n\n   82 Sen. _De Clem._ i. 1, \u00a7 5.\n\n   83 Suet. _Nero_, c. 15; cf. _Dom._ c. viii.\n\n_   84 Nero_, c. 16.\n\n_   85 Ib._ c. 12, instituit et quinquennale certamen primus omnium Romae\n      more Graeco triplex, etc.\n\n_   86 Ib._ c. 20; 53; Renan, _L\u2019Ant\u00e9chr._ p. 132.\n\n   87 Suet. _Nero_, c. 39.\n\n_   88 Ib._ c. 50.\n\n   89 Renan, _L\u2019Ant\u00e9chr._ p. 316.\n\n   90 Suet. _Nero_, c. 49; Renan, _L\u2019Ant\u00e9chr._ 130. sqq.\n\n   91 Suet. _Nero_, c. 24, 49, 52, 55; Tac. _Ann._ xiv. 16; cf. Mac\u00e9,\n      _Su\u00e9tone_, p. 179; Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._ p. 265.\n\n   92 Suet. _Nero_, c. 53, c. 20, cf. c. 24.\n\n   93 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iv. 36, 39; Tac. _Ann._ xiv. 15, 16; xv.\n      67, odisse coepi postquam parricida matris et uxoris, auriga et\n      histrio et incendiarius extitisti; Suet. _Nero_, c. 21; D. Cass. 63.\n      9, 10.\n\n   94 Suet. _Nero_, c. 23.\n\n_   95 Ib._ c. 32.\n\n   96 Merivale, viii. p. 70 sq.; Schiller, _Gesch. der R\u00f6m. Kaiserzeit_,\n      i. p. 467.\n\n   97 Petron. _Sat._ 8, where the decay of artistic sense is traced to the\n      grossness of evil living; at nos vino scortisque demersi ne paratas\n      quidem artes audemus cognoscere.\n\n   98 Suet. _Nero_, c. 11, 12.\n\n   99 Tac. _Ann._ 15. 42.\n\n_  100 Ib._ 16. 1; Suet. _Nero_, 31.\n\n_  101 Ib._ 16, 31.\n\n_  102 Ib._ c. 31; cf. _Otho_, 7.\n\n  103 Suet. _Nero_, c. 40.\n\n_  104 Ib._ c. 29 _ad fin._\n\n_  105 Ib._ c. 32; D. Cass. 63. 17.\n\n  106 Suet. _Nero_, c. 56.\n\n  107 Suet. _Nero_, c. 32; D. Cass. 63. 11.\n\n  108 Tac. _Agric._ c. 3, sic ingenia studiaque oppresseris facilius quam\n      revocaveris.\n\n  109 Peter, _Gesch. Litt._ ii. 53 sqq.\n\n  110 Seneca died in 65 A.D. The _Histories_ of Tacitus were published\n      _circ._ 106-107; cf. Plin. _Ep._ vii. 20; Peter, _Gesch. Litt._ ii.\n      42.\n\n  111 Tacitus was born about 55 A.D. (Peter, ii. 43; Mac\u00e9, _Su\u00e9tone_, p.\n      35, 81; Momms. _Plin._ p. 51). He was, perhaps, fifteen years older\n      than Suetonius, and seven years older than Pliny.\n\n  112 Plin. _Ep._ i. 6, 20; iv. 13; vi. 9, 16, 20; vii. 20, 33; viii. 7;\n      ix. 10, 14.\n\n_  113 Hist._ i. 1; _Ann._ xi. 11. This latter important passage fixes the\n      date of his praetorship, 88 A.D.; cf. Teuffel, ii. p. 165 n. 6;\n      Peter, ii. 43.\n\n_  114 Agric._ c. 45.\n\n_  115 Hist._ i. 1, sed incorruptam fidem professis, neque amore quisquam\n      et sine odio dicendus est; Nipperdey, _Einl._ xxvi.\n\n  116 Merivale, viii. 84, Schiller, _Gesch. der R\u00f6m. Kaiserzeit_, i. 140,\n      586. According to Schiller, Tacitus has no research, no exactness of\n      military or geographical knowledge, no true conception of the time.\n      He is an embittered aristocrat and rhetorician. For a sounder\n      estimate _v._ Peter, ii. 43, 60, 63; Nipperdey, _Einl._ xxv. For the\n      influence on the work of Suetonius of the Senatorial tradition, _v._\n      Mac\u00e9, _Su\u00e9tone_, p. 84; Peter, _Gesch. Litt._ ii. 69.\n\n  117 Peter, _Gesch. Litt._ ii. 66.\n\n  118 Merivale, viii. 95 sqq.\n\n  119 Peter, ii. 46 sqq.\n\n_  120 Ib._ ii. 188, 200.\n\n  121 His father was probably a Roman Eques, procurator in Belgium; Plin.\n      _H. N._ vii. 16, 76.\n\n  122 Mac\u00e9, _Su\u00e9tone_, p. 83, Peter, ii. 69 sqq.\n\n  123 Tac. _Ann._ i. 7; xv. 71; _Agr._ 45; Peter, ii. 62.\n\n_  124 Ann._ xiv. 12, 57; _Hist._ iv. 6; _Agr._ 42; Peter, ii. 47.\n\n_  125 Agr._ 42.\n\n_  126 Ann._ iii. 65, praecipuum munus annalium reor, ne virtutes\n      sileantur, utque pravis dictis factisque ex posteritate et infamia\n      metus sit; cf. Peter, ii. 46; Nipperdey, _Einl._ xxvi.\n\n  127 Tac. _Ann._ i. 39, 41.\n\n_  128 Ib._ c. 61, 62.\n\n_  129 Hist._ ii. 49.\n\n_  130 Ann._ ii. 82.\n\n_  131 Hist._ iii. 72.\n\n_  132 Ib._ iii. 83.\n\n_  133 Agr._ 32.\n\n_  134 Germ._ 17, 19, 20, 23, 25.\n\n_  135 Germ._ 33, _ad fin._\n\n_  136 Hist._ i. 3; ii. 38; iii. 72; Peter, ii. 62. Yet this should be\n      qualified by such passages as _Ann._ iii. 55; _Agr._ i.; cf.\n      Nipperdey, _Einl._ xxvii.\n\n_  137 Ann._ iii. 65.\n\n_  138 Ib._ iii. 26.\n\n  139 M. Aurel. ix. 29, 34; x. 19.\n\n  140 Tac. _Ann._ iii. 55; M. Aurel. vii. 1; ix. 4; x. 23; ix. 28.\n\n_  141 Agr._ 3.\n\n  142 Plin. _Paneg._ 35, 53, 54, 66; cf. Tac. _Hist._ i. 1.\n\n_  143 Hist._ i. 1, omnem potentiam ad unum conferri pacis interfuit; cf.\n      _Hist._ i. 16; ii. 38.\n\n_  144 Ann._ xiv. 47; _Hist._ iv. 8, bonos imperatores voto expetere,\n      qualescumque tolerare.\n\n_  145 Ann._ xv. 46; vi. 42; iv. 33; iii. 27; _Hist._ ii. 38.\n\n  146 Peter, ii. 53; _Ann._ vi. 42.\n\n_  147 Hist._ i. 16; Peter, ii. 61.\n\n  148 Tac. _Agr._ i.\n\n  149 Peter, ii. 48.\n\n  150 Tac. _Ann._ i. 76; quanquam _vili_ sanguine nimis gaudens. Cf.\n      _Dial. de Or._ 29; Plin. _Ep._ vi. 34, 1.\n\n_  151 Ann._ xiv. 43; _Germ._ 20.\n\n_  152 Germ._ 33. Cf. his contempt for the Christians and devotees of\n      Eastern cults, _Ann._ ii. 85; xv. 44.\n\n_  153 Ann._ i. 53; iv. 3; iii. 39: vi. 29; xii. 12; iii. 24; xvi. 16. Cf.\n      Peter, ii. 51.\n\n_  154 Ann._ xiv. 14.\n\n_  155 Ann._ ii. 21; vi. 27; iv. 3.\n\n_  156 De Or._ 29.\n\n_  157 Agr._ 4.\n\n_  158 Germ._ 19, saepta pudicitia agunt, nullis spectaculorum inlecebris\n      ... corruptae; _De Or._ 29.\n\n_  159 Hist._ iii. 37; _Ann._ i. 7; xv. 57, 71.\n\n_  160 Agr._ 22.\n\n_  161 Ib._ 40.\n\n_  162 Ann._ xv. 60.\n\n_  163 Ib._ xv. 57.\n\n_  164 Ib._ xiv. 60.\n\n_  165 Ann._ xv. 71.\n\n_  166 Hist._ i. 2.\n\n_  167 Agr._ 4, memoria teneo solitum ipsum narrare se studium\n      philosophiae acrius, ultra quam concessum Romano ac Senatori,\n      exhausisse. Cf. Fabian, _Quid Tac. de num. Div. judicaverit_, p. 1.\n\n_  168 Hist._ v. 5; Nipperdey, _Einl._ xiv.\n\n_  169 Hist._ i. 22; ii. 78; i. 86. But cf. _Ann._ xii. 43, 64; xiv. 32;\n      xv. 8; _Hist._ i. 3; ii. 50; and Fabian, pp. 17, 19.\n\n_  170 Ann._ iv. 20; cf. vi. 22.\n\n_  171 Hist._ ii. 38.\n\n_  172 Ann._ xiv. 12; Fabian, p. 23.\n\n_  173 Ann._ xvi. 33, aequitate deum erga bona malaque documenta.\n\n_  174 Ann._ iii. 55; cf. xvi. 5.\n\n  175 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ iii. pp. 80, 81.\n\n  176 Plin. _Paneg._ 45; Claudian, _In Cons. Hon._ 299, componitur orbis\n      Regis ad exemplum.\n\n  177 Suet. _De Clar. Rhet._ c. 1.\n\n  178 Id. _Nero_, 21; Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iv. 39.\n\n  179 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ i. 54.\n\n  180 Suet. _Calig._ 37; Sen. _Ad Helv._ x.\n\n  181 Suet. _Calig._ 37.\n\n  182 Suet. _Nero_, c. 30.\n\n_  183 Ib._ c. 27.\n\n_  184 Ib._ c. 30.\n\n_  185 Ib._ c. 31; Tac. _Ann._ xv. 42.\n\n  186 Suet. _Otho_, 5, nihilque referre, ab hoste in acie, an in foro sub\n      creditoribus caderet.\n\n  187 Id. _Vitell._ c. 13.\n\n  188 Id. _Vesp._ 16; D. Cass. 66. 2, 8, 10.\n\n  189 D. Cass. 67. 5; Suet. _Dom._ 12.\n\n  190 D. Cass. 68. 2, _\u03c3\u03c5\u03c3\u03c4\u03ad\u03bb\u03bb\u03c9\u03bd \u1f61\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f37\u03cc\u03bd \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03b4\u03b1\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03ae\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1_.\n\n  191 Capitol. _M. Aurel._ c. 17, in foro divi Trajani auctionem\n      ornamentorum imperialium fecit vendiditque aurea pocula et\n      cristallina, etc.\n\n  192 Suet. _Dom._ iii.\n\n  193 Suet. _Otho_, iii.; _Vitell._ v.; _Dom._ viii.; Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._\n      p. 170.\n\n  194 Tac. _Ann._ i. 72; ii. 50; xiv. 48. For a clear account of this _v._\n      Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._ p. 165.\n\n  195 Suet. _Dom._ x.; cf. xii. satis erat obici qualecunque factum\n      dictumve adversus majestatem principis.\n\n_  196 Ib._ xii.\n\n  197 Tac. _Ann._ xi. 27; xiii. 6, in urbe sermonum avida; _Hist._ ii. 91;\n      Mart. v. 20; Friedl. _Sittengesch._ i. p. 280.\n\n  198 D. Cass. 52. 37.\n\n  199 Mart x. 48, 21; cf. Friedl. _Chronologie der Epigr. Mart._ p. 62;\n      Friedl. _Sittengesch._ i. p. 285; Epict. _Diss._ iv. 13, 21, 5;\n      Aristid. _Or._ ix. 62.\n\n  200 Tac. _Ann._ iv. 69.\n\n  201 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ vii. 24.\n\n  202 Tac. _Ann._ i. 72, 74, Crispinus formam vitae iniit quam postea\n      celebrem miseriae temporum et audaciae hominum fecerunt, etc.; cf.\n      iii. 25; Sen. _De Ben._ iii. 26; Suet. _Tib._ lxi.\n\n  203 Tac. _Ann._ iv. 20.\n\n  204 Suet. _Dom._ xx. praeter commentarios et acta Tiberii nihil\n      lectitabat; Plin. _Paneg._ 42, 48.\n\n  205 Suet. _Dom._ xv.\n\n  206 Tac. _Hist._ ii. 10; Plin. _Paneg._ 35; D. Cass. 68. 1; Jul.\n      Capitol. _Ant. P._ c. 7; id. _M. Aurel._ c. 11; Meriv. vii. 370.\n\n  207 Tac. _Ann._ xv. 34; iii. 66; _Hist._ iv. 42.\n\n  208 Schol. ad Juv. iv. 53; Duruy, iv. 660.\n\n  209 Tac. _Ann._ iv. 20.\n\n_  210 Ib._ xvi. 33; Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._ p. 186.\n\n  211 Plin. _Ep._ ii. 20, 13; iv. 2; cf. Tac. _Hist._ iv. 42; Mart. vii.\n      31.\n\n  212 Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._ p. 193.\n\n  213 Plin. _Ep._ ii. 11, 22.\n\n_  214 Ib._ iv. 7; i. 20, 15.\n\n_  215 Ib._ ii. 11, 22; ii. 20.\n\n  216 Plin. _Ep._ ii. 20, 2.\n\n_  217 Ib._ iv. 7.\n\n_  218 E.g._ Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._ p. 296; Peter, _Gesch. Litt._ ii. p. 65:\n      Teuffel, \u00a7 328, 15; Mackail, _Lat. Lit._ p. 215.\n\n  219 Schiller, i. pp. 140, 586; Meriv. viii. 89 sqq.\n\n  220 Suet. _Claud._ x.; _Calig._ lx.; D. Cass. 60. 1. On the\n      assassination of Caligula, the Senate debated the question of\n      abolishing the memory of the Caesars, and restoring the Republic;\n      but the mob outside the temple of the Capitoline Jupiter demanded\n      \u201cone ruler\u201d of the world.\n\n  221 Tac. _Ann._ xi. 25; xiii. 27.\n\n  222 Suet. _Calig._ xxx.; xxvi.; _Nero_, xxxvii. eumque ordinem\n      sublaturum quandoque e republica...; cf. xliii. creditur destinasse\n      senatum universum veneno per convivia necare.... D. Cass. 63. 15,\n      17.\n\n  223 Plin. _Paneg._ 54, 62, 64; Spart. _Hadrian_, 6, 7, \u00a7 4; 8, \u00a7 6.\n\n  224 Suet. _Claud._ x.\n\n  225 D. Cass. 66. 16; Suet. _Vesp._ xxv.\n\n  226 See the speech of the dying Hadrian to the Senators, D. Cass. 69.\n      20.\n\n  227 Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._ 102.\n\n  228 Tac. _Ann._ xvi. 21; xv. 23; xiv. 48, id _egregio_ sub principe ...\n      senatui statuendum disseruit.\n\n  229 Suet. _Vesp._ xv.; cf. xiii., where Demetrius is guilty of similar\n      rudeness; D. Cass. 66. 12.\n\n  230 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ v. 35.\n\n_  231 Ib._ vii. 3, 4.\n\n_  232 Ib._ vii. 8, 33; cf. D. Cass. 67. 18.\n\n  233 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ vii. 9.\n\n  234 D. Cass. 66. 12, _\u03b2\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bb\u03b5\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5 \u1f00\u03b5\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b7\u03b3\u03cc\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03b7\u03bc\u03bf\u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u03af\u03b1\u03bd\n      \u1f10\u03c0\u1fc4\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9_.\n\n  235 Suet. _Dom._ xxi.\n\n  236 D. Cass. 66. 16.\n\n  237 D. Cass. 68. 3.\n\n  238 Spart. _Hadr._ 7, \u00a7 15.\n\n  239 Jul. Capitol. _M. Ant._ 24, 25.\n\n  240 Momms. _Staatsr._ ii. 787-821; Professor Pelham has given a luminous\n      account of the Principate in _Encycl. Brit._ vol. xx. p. 769.\n\n  241 Suet. _Octav._ xxviii.\n\n  242 Tac. _Ann._ i. 15.\n\n  243 Suet. _Claud._ x.; D. Cass. 60. 1; where the soldiers plainly close\n      the impotent debates in the Senate, and by hailing Claudius as\n      emperor.\n\n  244 Momms. _R\u00f6m. Staatsr._ ii. 839.\n\n_  245 v._ Pelham, _Encycl. Brit._ xx. p. 779.\n\n  246 Suet. _Calig._ xxix.\n\n  247 D. Cass. 59. 24.\n\n_  248 Ib._ 56. 1; Tac. _Ann._ vi. 13; Suet. _Dom._ xiii.; Plut. _Galba_,\n      17.\n\n  249 Plin. _Paneg._ 43, 44, 35.\n\n_  250 Ib._ 24, 62, 63, 66.\n\n_  251 Ib._ 80.\n\n_  252 Ib._ 62, 63, 64.\n\n_  253 Ib._ 66.\n\n_  254 Ib._ 72.\n\n_  255 Ib._ 64.\n\n  256 Plin. _Paneg._ 69.\n\n  257 Tac. _Ann._ xiii. 1; xiv. 52; xv. 48.\n\n  258 D. Cass. 63.17, _\u03c0\u1fb6\u03c3\u03b9 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u2019 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1ff7 \u03b4\u03b7\u03bc\u03cc\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u1f14\u03b3\u03ba\u03bb\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1 \u1f26\u03bd \u1f00\u03c1\u03b5\u03c4\u03ae \u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03c0\u03bb\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b3\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2_: Tac. _Hist._ ii. 76.\n\n  259 Tac. _Ann._ ii. 32; xii. 52; D. Cass. 49. 43; D. Cass. 66. 10, 9;\n      Suet _Tib._ lxiii.\n\n  260 Suet. _Tib._ xiv. lxix.\n\n  261 Tac. _Ann._ xii. 52.\n\n  262 Suet. _Nero_, xxxvi.\n\n  263 Id. _Otho_, iv.\n\n  264 Id. _Vitell._ xiv.\n\n_  265 Ib._ ne Vitellius Germanicus intra eundem kalendarum diem usquam\n      esset.\n\n  266 D. Cass. 66. 10, 9.\n\n  267 Suet. _Dom._ xv.\n\n  268 Tac. _Hist._ i. 2.\n\n  269 Tac. _Ann._ xiv. 64.\n\n_  270 Ib._ xiv. 10, 12.\n\n_  271 Ib._ xiv. 10; Suet. _Nero_, xxxiv.\n\n  272 Tac. _Ann._ xv. 48.\n\n_  273 Ib._ xv. 57.\n\n_  274 Ib._ xv. 54.\n\n_  275 Ib._ xv. 70; probably Lucan, _Phars._ iii. 638.\n\n  276 Tac. _Ann._ xv. 71.\n\n_  277 Ib._ xv. 73.\n\n_  278 Ib._ xv. 68, 69.\n\n  279 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 16; Tac. _Ann._ xv. 63.\n\n  280 Tac. _Ann._ xiv. 60.\n\n  281 Tac. _Ann._ xiv. 22, 57.\n\n_  282 Ib._ xvi. 10.\n\n_  283 Ib._ xvi. 11.\n\n_  284 Ib._ xv. 60.\n\n_  285 Ib._ xiv. 61.\n\n_  286 Ib._ xiv. 42, senatusque obsessus in quo ipso erant studia nimiam\n      severitatem aspernantium.\n\n_  287 Ib._ xv. 67.\n\n  288 Tac. _Hist._ ii. 49.\n\n_  289 Ib._ iii. 84.\n\n_  290 Ib._ i. 88, segnis et oblita bellorum nobilitas, etc.\n\n_  291 Ib._ i. 88.\n\n_  292 Ib._ iii. 37, nulla in oratione cujusquam erga Flavianos duces\n      obtrectatio; cf. i. 90; of the Acta of the Arval College, _C.I.L._\n      vi. 2051 sq.\n\n_  293 Ib._ iv. 3.\n\n  294 Suet. _Nero_, x.; _Vesp._ xvii.; Spart. _Hadr._ 7, \u00a7 9.\n\n  295 Juv. i. 100.\n\n  296 Tac. _Ann._ xiii. 34.\n\n_  297 Ib._ ii. 37, 38.\n\n  298 Tac. _Hist._ i. 35.\n\n  299 Sen. _De Ira_, ii. 33; cf. iii. 19.\n\n  300 Tac. _Ann._ xiv. 58.\n\n  301 Suet. _Nero_, xxxvii.\n\n  302 Tac. _Ann._ xiv. 14; Juv. viii. 193; Suet. _Calig._ xviii. xxx.; D.\n      Cass. lix. 10.\n\n  303 Suet. _Calig._ xxvii.\n\n  304 Sen. _De Ira_, ii. 33.\n\n  305 Tac. _Ann._ xiii. 12; xvi. 18; Suet. _Vitell._ iv.\n\n  306 Renan, _Les \u00c9v._ p. 140. Some of their anonymous sneers may be\n      traced in Suet. _Vesp._ xvi. xxiii. xiv.; cf. Duruy, iv. 653.\n\n  307 D. Cass. 66. 16, _\u1f10\u03c0\u03b5\u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03bb\u03b5\u03cd\u03b8\u03b7 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f51\u03c0\u03cc \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u1f08\u03bb\u03b9\u03b7\u03bd\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f51\u03c0\u1f78 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\n      \u039c\u03b1\u03c1\u03ba\u03ad\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5_. Cf. Suet. _Vesp._ xiv.; Mac\u00e9, _Su\u00e9tone_, p. 86.\n\n  308 Cf. Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._ p. 169 sqq.; Bury, _Rom. Emp._ p. 395.\n\n  309 On the sources of the history of the Flavians, _v._ Krause, _De C.\n      Sueton. Tranq. Fontibus_; Mac\u00e9, _Su\u00e9tone_, p. 364, 376; Peter,\n      _Gesch. Litt. d. Kaiserzeit_, ii. 69, 70. For the senatorial\n      attitude to Domitian, _v._ Plin. _Paneg._ 48; Tac. _Agr._ 3, 41, 42,\n      45; _Hist._ iv. 51; iv. 2; Suet. _Dom._ xxiii.\n\n  310 Nagel, _Imp. T. Flav. Domitianus iniquius dijudicatus_.\n\n  311 Meriv. vii. 356.\n\n  312 Suet. _Dom._ viii.\n\n  313 Tac. _Agr._ 39; cf. 41, tot exercitus in Moesia ... amissi. D. Cass.\n      67. 4, 7; cf. Stat. _Silv._ iv. 3, 153; Mart. ix. 102; vii. 80, 91,\n      95; Meriv. vii. 347.\n\n  314 Tac. _Agr._ 39.\n\n  315 Quintil. iv., prooem. 2; Statius, _Silvae_, iv. 2, 13; iii. 1, 1;\n      Mart. ii. 91; iv. 27, iii. 95. For the flattery of Martial, _v._\n      esp. v. 19, 6; ix. 4; _Spectac._ 33.\n\n  316 Suet. _Dom._ iv.\n\n_  317 Ib._ xx.\n\n_  318 Ib._ vii.; Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ vi. 42; _Vit. Soph._ i. 12.\n\n  319 Pliny was probably Quaestor in 90 A.D.; Trib. Pleb. 92; Praetor 93.\n      Cf. Momms. (Morel) p. 61. Tacitus says, _Hist._ i. 1, dignitatem a\n      Domitiano (81-96) longius provectam non abnuerim. From _Ann._ xi. 11\n      it appears that he was Praetor in 88. Cf. Peter, _Gesch. Litt._ ii.\n      43.\n\n  320 Duruy, iv. 697 n.\n\n_  321 Silv._ iii. 4, 37.\n\n  322 Meriv. vii. 354.\n\n  323 D. Cass. 67. 14; Suet. _Dom._ xiv.\n\n  324 Mart. iv. 63; vi. 21, crudelis nullaque invisior umbra.\n\n  325 Suet. _Dom._ xxiii.\n\n  326 Suet. _Dom._ x.\n\n  327 Renan, _Les \u00c9vang._ p. 291, Domitien, comme tous les souverains\n      hypocrites, se montraite s\u00e9v\u00e8re conservateur.\n\n  328 Suet. _Dom._ xiii.\n\n  329 Mart. viii. 65.\n\n  330 Suet. _Dom._ xiii.; Mart. v. 8, 1 (_v._ Friedl\u00e4nder\u2019s note), vii. 2\n      and 34; viii. 2, 6; Stat. _Silv._ v. 1, 37; Meriv. vii. 375.\n\n  331 Suet. _Dom._ v.; Gregorov. _Gesch. St. Rom._ i. 41.\n\n  332 Rutil. Namat. i. 93.\n\n  333 Suet. _Dom._ v. _ad fin._; iv.\n\n  334 D. Cass. 67. 8.\n\n  335 Suet. _Dom._ xii.\n\n  336 Pliny, _Paneg._ 50.\n\n  337 Dion Cass. 67. 4, _\u03c4\u03b9\u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u1f74\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03b4\u03b9\u1f70 \u03b2\u03af\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c0\u03c1\u1ff6\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u1f30\u03b4\u03b9\u03c9\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03bf\u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u03cc\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u1f10\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\u03ae\u03b8\u03b7_: Momms. _R\u00f6m. St._ ii. 1012.\n\n  338 D. Cass. 67. 11.\n\n_  339 Agr._ 45.\n\n  340 Suet. _Dom._ xiv. parietes phengite lapide distinxit.\n\n_  341 Ib._ xvi.\n\n  342 D. Cass. 67. 9.\n\n_  343 Ib._ 67. 4.\n\n  344 Tacitus b. probably 55 A.D. _Dial. de Or._ 1, juvenis admodum in 75\n      or 76; cf. _Agr._ 9. He was betrothed in 77 A.D.; cf. Meriv. viii.\n      92; Peter, _Gesch. Litt._ ii. 43; Nipperdey, _Einl._ iv. Juvenal b.\n      _circ._ 55 A.D. (Peter, ii. 77); decessit longo senio confectus exul\n      Ant. Pio imp. Vit. iv.; Teuffel, \u00a7 326, 1.\n\n  345 Nettleship, _Lectures and Essays_, pp. 118 sqq.\n\n_  346 Or. Henz._ 5599, IIVir. Quinq. Flamen Divi Vespasiani.\n\n  347 Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._ p. 316.\n\n  348 Juv. xi. 74, 150; cf. xiv. 322.\n\n  349 Mart. xii. 18.\n\n  350 Juv. v. 30 sqq.; cf. Mart. iii. 49; iii. 60.\n\n  351 Juv. i. 52; Mart. x. 4; iv. 49.\n\n  352 Juv. vi. 43: v. 30 sqq.; ix. 10 sqq.; xi. 186.\n\n  353 It has been remarked that Martial\u2019s Epigrams on Juvenal all contain\n      some obscenity, vii. 24; vii. 91, xii. 18.\n\n  354 Teuffel, \u00a7 326, 4; Peter, _Gesch. Litt._ ii. 77; Nettleship,\n      _Lectures and Essays_, p. 122, brings together the indications of\n      date from 96-127 A.D. He thinks that perhaps some of the earlier\n      _Satires_ belong to the last years of Domitian, and that the words,\n      spes et ratio studiorum in Caesare tantum, in _Sat._ vii., may refer\n      to that Emperor (p. 132).\n\n  355 Juv. i. 170.\n\n  356 Marius Priscus, Isaeus, Archigenes.\n\n  357 See a comparison of passages in Nettleship, pp. 125 sqq.\n\n  358 He says of himself, i. 5, 8, lasciva est nobis pagina, vita proba\n      est; cf. iii. 68; v. 2; Ausonius urges the same plea, cf. _Idyll._\n      xiii. Pliny finds a long series of examples to warrant his\n      indulgence in loose verses, _Ep._ iv. 14; cf. v. 3. It was a bad\n      tradition of literature; cf. Nettleship, _Lectures and Essays_, p.\n      39.\n\n  359 i. 14; iv. 13, 75.\n\n  360 v. 34, 37; x. 61.\n\n  361 i. 79; vii. 52.\n\n  362 iii. 58; i. 56; ii. 38; cf. iii. 38.\n\n  363 iii. 58.\n\n  364 i. 50; iv. 55; xii. 18.\n\n  365 Especially _Sat._ xi. xiii. xiv. xv.; cf. Munding, _\u00dcber die Sat.\n      Juv._ p. 12.\n\n_  366 v._ Bk. ii. c. 3 of this work. M. Boissier has thrown a vivid light\n      on this class in his _Rel. Rom._ iii. 3.\n\n  367 Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ ii. 198; Nettleship, _Lectures and Essays_ p.\n      136.\n\n  368 xiii. 120; ii. 1 sqq.; cf. Mart. ix. 48.\n\n  369 He refers, however, with respect to Seneca, viii. 212.\n\n  370 viii. 90 sqq.; cf. Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._ p. 332.\n\n  371 Juv. xv. 131; cf. Sen. _De Ira_, i. 5; ii. 10, 25; iii. 24.\n\n  372 Juv. xiii. 190.\n\n  373 xiii. 208, nam scelus intra se tacitum qui cogitat ullum Facti\n      crimen habet.\n\n  374 xiv. 30; Tac. _De Or._ 28, 29.\n\n  375 xi. 153.\n\n  376 vi. 510.\n\n  377 xiii. 39.\n\n  378 xiii. 208.\n\n  379 Juv. i. 87, 147; x. 172 cf. Sen. _Nat. Q._ vii. 31; _De Ira_, ii. 8\n      sq.\n\n_  380 e.g._ the picture of Otho, ii. 99; of Messalina, vi. 114;\n      Lateranus, viii. 146; Sejanus, x. 56; Cicero, etc., viii. 231.\n\n  381 Tac. _Hist._ ii. 64; cf. Plin. _Ep._ iv. 19; iii. 16; D. Cass. 68.\n      5; Sen. _ad Helv._ xiv.\n\n  382 Juv. xi. 109; iii. 152, 183.\n\n  383 xi. 78.\n\n  384 Tac. _Ann._ iii. 55; Sen. _Ad Helv._ x. 3; _Ep._ 89, \u00a7 22.\n\n  385 Statius, _Silv._ v. 36; ii. 85.\n\n  386 Petron. c. 60; Sen. _Ep._ 95, \u00a7 9; Friedl. _Sittengesch._ iii. p.\n      67.\n\n  387 Plin. _H. N._ vi. 26; ix. 58; xii. 41. Cf. Friedl. iii. p. 80; Marq.\n      _R\u00f6m. St._ ii. 53.\n\n  388 Suet. _Nero_, xxx. putabat sordidos ac parcos esse quibus ratio\n      impensarum constaret, etc.\n\n  389 Sen. _Ep._ 87, \u00a7 4; Suet. _Tib._ xxxv.; Friedl. i. 196.\n\n  390 Liv. xxxiv. 1; Tac. _Ann._ iii. 53, 54.\n\n  391 Liv. xxxiv. 6, 7; Marq. _Priv._ i. 62, 162; Momms. _R. Hist._ ii.\n      409.\n\n  392 Momms. _R. Hist._ iii. 417.\n\n_  393 Ib._ 418; cf. Plin. _H. N._ ix. 80, 81; x. 23; Plut. _Lucull._ c.\n      40; Macrob. _Sat._ iii. 13, \u00a7 1.\n\n  394 Macrob. _Sat._ iii. 13, \u00a7 11.\n\n  395 Hieron. _Ep._ 117, \u00a7 8; Amm. Marc. xiv. 6, 7; xxviii. 4.\n\n  396 Juv. xi. 69.\n\n  397 Thucyd. i. 95.\n\n  398 Prescott, _Conquest of Peru_, i. 304.\n\n  399 Tac. _Ann._ xii. 53 (Pallas); D. Cass. 60. 34 (Narcissus); Tac.\n      _Ann._ xiii. 42; D. Cass. 61. 10; cf. Duruy, v. p. 598.\n\n  400 Tac. _Ann._ xv. 42.\n\n  401 Juv. viii. 10.\n\n  402 Plin. _Paneg._ 69.\n\n  403 Suet. _Tib._ i. Cf. the funeral oration of Julius Caesar over his\n      aunt, quoted by Suet. _Jul. Caes._ 6.\n\n  404 Id. _Nero_, i.\n\n  405 Tac. _Ann._ vi. 33.\n\n_  406 Ib._ xv. 48.\n\n  407 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iv. 12.\n\n  408 Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ ii. 1.\n\n  409 Hieron. _Ep._ 108, \u00a7 4.\n\n  410 Tac. _Ann._ xi. 21, Curtius Rufus videtur mihi ex se natus.\n\n  411 Juv. viii. 285 sqq.\n\n  412 Tac. _Ann._ xi. 25.\n\n  413 Sen. _De Ira_, ii. 33, \u00a7 2; Juv. iv. 96.\n\n  414 Appian, _B. C._ iv. 5.\n\n  415 Suet. _Tib._ 61, nullus a poena hominum cessavit dies.\n\n  416 Id. _Claud._ xxix.\n\n  417 Tac. _Ann._ xi. 25.\n\n  418 Suet. _Vesp._ ix.; cf. Tac. _Ann._ iii. 55.\n\n  419 Sym. _Ep._ ii. 78; Seeck, _Prol._ xlvi.\n\n  420 Suet. _Octav._ xli.\n\n  421 Id. _Nero_, x.; _Vesp._ xvii.\n\n  422 Tac. _Ann._ ii. 37, 38.\n\n  423 Tac. _Ann._ xi. 25; D. Cass. lx. 29. The last revision of the Senate\n      was in the reign of Augustus; D. Cass. lv. 13.\n\n  424 Tac. _Ann._ xiii. 34; Juv. i. 107.\n\n  425 Juv. i. 103.\n\n  426 Petron. _Sat._ c. 116, 124; Plin. _Ep._ ii. 20; Juv. i. 37; iii. 31.\n\n  427 Juv. iv.; i. 27.\n\n  428 D. Cass. lix. 26.\n\n  429 Tac. _Ann._ xiv. 12.\n\n  430 Suet. _Tib._ lxvii.\n\n_  431 Calig._ xxiii. xxiv.; cf. L. comitiali morbo vexatus, which\n      explains much to a medical man.\n\n_  432 Ib._ xxiii.\n\n_  433 Ib._ xxii.; cf. Sen. _De Ira_, i. 20.\n\n  434 Suet. _Calig._ xxxiv. xxxv. vetera familiarum insignia nobilissimo\n      cuique ademit; xxii.\n\n_  435 Ib._ liv. lv. quorum vero studio teneretur, omnibus ad insaniam\n      favit.\n\n  436 Suet. _Jul. Caes._ xxxix.\n\n  437 D. Cass. xlviii. 43.\n\n  438 Suet. _Tiberius_, xxxv.\n\n  439 Id. _Calig._ xviii. nec ullis nisi ex senatorio ordine aurigantibus;\n      D. Cass. 59. 10, 13, Suet. _Nero_, xii.\n\n  440 Id. _Dom._ viii. vii.\n\n  441 Id. _Nero_, xx. xxi.\n\n  442 Juv. viii. 89, 147.\n\n  443 Suet. _Nero_, xl.; _v._ Krause, _De Sueton. Fontibus_, pp. 57, 80;\n      Peter, _Gesch. Litt._ ii. 69.\n\n  444 Tac. _Ann._ xv. 67.\n\n_  445 Ib._ xiv. 16; cf. Suet. _Nero_, lii., where Suetonius distinctly\n      says that some of Nero\u2019s verses, which he had seen, bore all the\n      marks of originality. Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iv. 39; Mac\u00e9,\n      _Su\u00e9tone_, p. 127; Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._ p. 248.\n\n  446 Suet. _Nero_, xxvii.\n\n_  447 Ib._ xxvi.; cf. Juv. vi. 115.\n\n  448 Juv. viii. 172.\n\n  449 Suet. _Nero_, xxvi.\n\n  450 Tac. _Hist._ i. 88.\n\n  451 See some admirable criticism in Nettleship\u2019s _Lectures and Essays_,\n      2nd series, p. 141; cf. Munding, _\u00dcber die Sat. des Juv._ p. 7.\n\n  452 Duruy, v. 673; Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ ii. 233 sqq.\n\n  453 Plin. _Ep._ iv. 19; iii. 16; iii. 3; Sen. _Ad Helv._ xiv. xix.; D.\n      Cass. lxviii. 5 _ad fin._\n\n  454 Ov. _Trist._ iii. 3, 15\u2014\n\n        Omnia cum subeant, vincis tamen omnia, conjux;\n        Et plus in nostro pectore parte tenes.\n        Te loquor absentem, te vox mea nominat unam:\n        Nulla venit sine te nox mihi, nulla dies.\n\n  455 Id. _Amor._ iii. 4, 3; cf. _Ars Am._ ii. 599, iii. 440, 613, Denis,\n      _Id\u00e9es Morales_, ii. 124.\n\n  456 Plut. _Consol. ad Uxor._ x.; _Conj. Praec._ iv. xliv. xlvii.\n\n  457 A. Gell. xii. 1.\n\n  458 Denis, ii. 134; Zeller, _Die Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, p. 660.\n\n  459 D. Chrys. _Or._ vii. 133.\n\n  460 Juv. vi. 436\u2014\n\n        Committit vates et comparat; inde Maronem,\n        Atque alia parte in trutina suspendit Homerum.\n        Cedunt grammatici, vincuntur rhetores\u2014\n\n  461 Juv. vi. 400 sqq.\n\n_  462 Ib._ 268.\n\n_  463 Ib._ 108, 60.\n\n_  464 Ib._ 427.\n\n_  465 Ib._ 252.\n\n_  466 Ib._ 493.\n\n_  467 Ib._ 528.\n\n  468 Momms. _R. Hist._ ii. 408 (Tr.).\n\n  469 Liv. vi. 34.\n\n  470 Plut. _Cato Maj._ c. xx.; Juv. vi. 165, 460.\n\n  471 Val. Max. ii. 1, 5; Liv. xxxiv. 1, 3; Marq. i. p. 62.\n\n  472 Momms. _R. Hist._ ii. 408.\n\n  473 Cic. _in Verr._ i. 42, 107.\n\n  474 Sym. _Ep._ vi. 67; cf. Suet. _Octav._ lxiv.; _Or. Henz._ 2677, 4629,\n      4629, lanifica, pia, pudica, casta, domiseda.\n\n  475 Macrob. _Sat._ iii. 14, 11.\n\n  476 Friedl. i. 312; Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ ii. 240.\n\n  477 Lucr. iv. 1160; Juv. vi. 192.\n\n  478 Plut. _Pomp._ lv.\n\n  479 Suet. _Gram. Ill._ 16.\n\n  480 Ov. _Ars Am._ ii. 282.\n\n  481 Mart. xii. 98, 3; cf. Sen. _Ad Helv._ xvii.; _Ad Marc._ xvi.\n\n  482 Claud. _Laus Serenae_, 146.\n\n  483 Sen. _Ad Marc._ 4.\n\n  484 Epict. _Fr._ liii.\n\n  485 Tac. _Ann._ iv. 53; cf. Plin. _H. N._ vii. 8, 46.\n\n  486 Mart. x. 35; vii. 69.\n\n  487 Sid. Apoll. _Carm._ ix. 261.\n\n_  488 C.I.G._ 4725-31.\n\n  489 Juv. vi. 403; cf. 434.\n\n  490 Suet. _Octav._ lxxxiv.\n\n  491 Tac. _Ann._ xii. 37, novum sane et moribus veterum insolitum,\n      feminam signis Romanis praesidere.\n\n  492 D. Cass. lxvi. 14; cf. Suet. _Vesp._ xvi.; Krause, _De Suet.\n      Fontibus_, p. 75.\n\n  493 Tac. _Ann._ iii. 33; cf. i. 64; i. 69, sed femina [_i.e._ Agrippina]\n      ingens animi munia ducis per eos dies induit, etc.\n\n_  494 Or. Henz._ 6000, 4036, 5158, 4643, 5134, 3774, 2417, 4055, 4056,\n      7207, 3815.\n\n_  495 Ib._ 3738, 3773, 6992.\n\n_  496 Ib._ 3740.\n\n  497 Suet. _Galba_, v.\n\n  498 Lamprid. _Heliogab._ iv.; cf. Lamprid. _Aurelian._ xlix.\n\n  499 Mau, _Pompeii_ (Kelsey Tr.), p. 479.\n\n  500 Juv. ii. 31; iv. 34; xiii. 38; vi. 394; vii. 194.\n\n  501 Liv. xxix. 14.\n\n_  502 Ib._ xxxix. 8; cf. Lafaye, _Culte des Div. d\u2019Alexandrie_, c. iii.\n\n  503 Apul. _Met._ xi. 817; Suet. _Octav._ xciii.; D. Cass. liii. 2.\n\n  504 Catull. x. 26; Tibull. i. 3, 23; cf. Juv. xiii. 93.\n\n  505 Ov. _Ars Am._ i. 77.\n\n  506 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ i. 347.\n\n  507 Juv. vi. 547.\n\n  508 Tac. _Hist._ v. 2, 4; Juv. xiv. 97.\n\n  509 Sen. _Fr._ 42 (in Aug. _De Civ. Dei_, vi. 11), victi victoribus\n      leges dederunt.\n\n  510 Cf. Meriv. vi. 6.\n\n  511 Suet. _Claud._ xxv.\n\n  512 Tac. _Hist._ i. 22; Duruy, iv. 505.\n\n  513 Suet. _Dom._ xv.; D. Cass. lxvii. 14; Ren. _Les \u00c9v._ p. 228.\n\n  514 Juv. xiv. 96; vi. 544; iii. 15; Ren. _Les \u00c9v._ p. 234.\n\n  515 Tac. _Ann._ xiii. 32.\n\n  516 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ i. p. 332; cf. Plin. _Ep._ vii. 24.\n\n  517 Suet. _Ill. Gram._ xvi.\n\n  518 Friedl. i. 314; _Inscr. Or._ 2656, 2668, 4803.\n\n  519 Mart. iv. 13\u2014\n\n        Diligat illa senem quondam: sed et ipsa marito,\n        Tunc quoque cum fuerit, non videatur anus.\n\n      Plut. _Conj. Praec._ xliv. xxxiv.; Plin. _Ep._ iv. 19; vi. 4; vii.\n      5.\n\n  520 Sen. _Fr._ xiii. de Matrimonio, formosus assecla et procurator\n      calamistratus, etc., sub quibus nominibus adulteri delitescunt; cf.\n      S. Hieron. _Ep._ 54, \u00a7 13. S. Jerome is evidently imitating Seneca;\n      cf. _Or._ 639, Mart. v. 61.\n\n  521 Juv. vi. 460; Sen. _Fr._ 51.\n\n  522 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iii. 35, Luc. _Alex._ 44.\n\n  523 Tac. _Hist._ i. 81, erat Othoni celebre convivium primoribus feminis\n      virisque. D. Cass. lx. 7.\n\n  524 Suet. _Calig._ xxxvi.\n\n  525 Ov. _Ars Am._ i. 67, Friedl. i. 281.\n\n  526 Tac. _Germ._ 19, nec corrumpere et corrumpi saeculum vocatur.\n\n  527 Suet. _Octav._ xliv.\n\n  528 Ov. _Ars Am._ i. 139\u2014\n\n        Proximus a domina, nullo prohibente, sedeto.\n\n_  529 Trist._ ii. 503\u2014\n\n        Nec satis incestis temerari vocibus aures:\n          Adsuescunt oculi multa pudenda pati.\n\n      Cf. 515.\n\n  530 Mart. iii. 86 says of his poems\u2014\n\n        Non sunt haec mimis improbiora: lege.\n\n  531 Suet. _Octav._ xliv.\n\n  532 Juv. vi. 62.\n\n  533 Suet. _Dom._ vii.; _Tib._ xxxiv.\n\n  534 D. Cass. lx. 22, 28.\n\n  535 Suet. _Dom._ iii.; D. Cass. lxvii. 3.\n\n  536 Capitol. _M. Anton._ xix.\n\n_  537 Ib._ xxiii. mores matronarum conposuit diffluentes, etc.\n\n  538 Juv. vi. 281.\n\n  539 Suet. _Vesp._ xi. auctor senatui fuit decernendi ut quae se alieno\n      servo junxisset ancilla haberetur; cf. Mart. vi. 39; _C. Th._ iv. 9,\n      1.\n\n_  540 Or. Henz._ 2669, 4653, 7383.\n\n  541 Momms. _R. H._ ii. 414 sqq.\n\n_  542 Ib._ 469; cf. Plut. _Cato_, xxiii.\n\n  543 Mahaffy, _Greek World under Roman Sway_, p. 127.\n\n  544 Suet. _Octav._ 89; _Tib._ 21.\n\n  545 Id. _Tib._ 71, sermone Graeco, quanquam alioquin promptus et\n      facilis, non tamen usquequaque usus est.\n\n  546 Suet. _Calig._ xxi. xxxiv.\n\n  547 Mahaffy, _The Greek World_, p. 255.\n\n  548 Suet. _Claud._ xlii.\n\n_  549 Ib._ xxv.\n\n_  550 Ib._ xlii.\n\n  551 Id. _Nero_, lv. erat illi aeternitatis perpetuaeque famae cupido.\n      Cf. xxiv.\n\n  552 Id. _Vesp._ xviii.\n\n  553 Id. _Dom._ xx.\n\n  554 And many in the first century, Plin. _Ep._ iv. 3; viii. 4, 1;\n      Friedl. iii. 360; Martha, _Les Moralistes sous l\u2019Empire Rom._ p.\n      267; Teuffel, _R. Lit._ \u00a7 342; Mackail, _R. Lit._ 232.\n\n  555 Plut. _Cato_, c. xxii.; Claud. _In Eutrop._ ii. 137, 339.\n\n  556 Juv. iii. 85.\n\n  557 Juv. iii. 62 sqq.\n\n_  558 Ib._ iii. 69-77.\n\n_  559 Ib._ i. 104.\n\n_  560 Ib._ iii. 72, viscera magnarum domuum dominique futuri.\n\n_  561 Ib._ iii. 60.\n\n  562 Suet. _Ill. Gram._ i. ii. antiquissimi doctorum qui iidem et po\u00ebtae\n      et semigraeci erant (Livium et Ennium dico), etc.; Strab. vi. 3, 5;\n      A. Gell. xvii. 17, i.\n\n  563 Suet. _Ill. Gram._ iv.\n\n_  564 Ib._ xx. xix. xvi. xv.\n\n  565 Suet. _Ill. Gram._ xiii. Staberius ... emptus de catasta.\n\n_  566 Ib._ xiii.\n\n_  567 Ib._ xviii. xxiii.\n\n_  568 Ib._ xxiii.\n\n_  569 Ib._ xvii.; cf. Quintilian, iv. Prooem. 2; cf. Juv. viii. 186-97.\n\n  570 Plin. _H. N._ xxix. 17.\n\n  571 Suet. _Jul. Caes._ xlii.\n\n  572 D. Cass. liii. 30; Plin. _H. N._ xxix. 4; _Or. Henz._ 2983.\n\n  573 Juv. x. 221; Petron. 42; D. Cass. lxxi. 33; lxix. 22; Mart. ii. 16;\n      v. 9; vi. 31; vi. 53; Tac. _Ann._ xi. 31, 35.\n\n  574 Mart. i. 31; i. 48; viii. 74.\n\n  575 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ i. 231.\n\n  576 Epict. ii. 23, 30, 27.\n\n  577 Suet. _Otho_, iv. vi.\n\n  578 Id. _Dom._ xiv. xv.; cf. _Tib._ xiv.; _Nero_, xxxvi.\n\n  579 Tac. _Ann._ xvi. 14.\n\n  580 Juv. iii. 100.\n\n  581 Luc. _De Merc. Cond._ c. 16, 19.\n\n  582 Mart. i. 104, ii. 68.\n\n  583 Juv. i. 100; v. 17; Mart. xii. 18\u2014\n\n        Dum per limina te potentiorum\n          Sudatrix toga ventilat, etc.;\n\n      iii. 7, 36; Suet. _Nero_, xvi; _Dom._ vii.\n\n  584 Mart. ii. 79; Juv. v. 17.\n\n  585 Juv. i. 100\u2014\n\n              Jubet a praecone vocari\n        Ipsos Trojugenas.\n\n  586 Mart. ii. 43; iii. 38, 12, pallet cetera turba fame; Juv. iii. 153,\n      161; xi. 40.\n\n  587 Momms. _R. H._ ii. 374 (Tr.).\n\n  588 Mart. iv. 5; v. 56\u2014\n\n        Artes discere vult pecuniosas?\n        Fac discat citharoedus aut choraules.\n        Si duri puer ingeni videtur,\n        Praeconem facias, vel architectum;\n\n      Juv. vii. 104; x. 226; Petron. 46, destinavi illum artificii docere,\n      aut tonstreinum aut praeconem etc.\n\n  589 Juv. vii. 38 sqq.\n\n  590 Mart. ii. 43; iv. 40; v. 42, quas dederis, solas semper habebis\n      opes.\n\n  591 Juv. vii. 104.\n\n_  592 Ib._ vii. 180.\n\n_  593 Ib._ vii. ad fin.\n\n_  594 Ib._ vii. 121 sqq.\n\n  595 Juv. iii. 182; Martha, _Moralistes sous l\u2019Emp._ p. 400.\n\n  596 Mart. ii. 57.\n\n  597 Juv. vi. 353.\n\n  598 Petron. 116, in hac urbe nemo liberos tollit ... aut captantur aut\n      captant.\n\n_  599 e.g._ Regulus, Plin. _Ep._ ii. 20.\n\n  600 Juv. xii. 100; i. 36; Mart. v. 39; Plin. _Ep._ ii, 20; Petron. 140.\n\n  601 Juv. i. 112; Petron. 88, pecuniae cupiditas haec tropica instituit.\n\n  602 Juv. iii. 164.\n\n_  603 Ib._ 131, 103; i. 26; iv. 98; Mart. ii. 29, iii. 29; v. 13, 35.\n\n  604 Suet. _Octav._ xliii.-v.; _Calig._ xviii.; _Claud._ xxi; _Nero_, xi.\n      xii.; _Titus_, vii.; _Dom._ iv.; D. Cass. 65. 25; Spart. _Hadr._\n      vii. D. Cass. 68. 10, 15; Capitol. _M. Anton._ vi.; but cp. Suet.\n      _Tib._ xlvii.; Tac. _Hist._ ii 62, D. Cass. 66. 15; Suet. _Octav._\n      xliv.; D. Cass. 54. 2; 68. 2; Capitol. _Anton. P._ xii.\n\n  605 Victor. _Epit._ 12; Spart. _Hadr._ vii. \u00a7 12; Capitol. _M. Anton._\n      xxvi.; _Ant. P._ viii.; D. Cass. 68. 5; _Orelli Henz._ 4365, 7244;\n      Friedl\u00e4nder, _Petron. Einleit._ 49; Duruy, v. 429; iv. 787;\n      Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ ii. 208; cf. Plin. _Ep._ ix. 30.\n\n  606 Tac. _Ann._ xiv. 62; ii. 47, 48.\n\n  607 Salv. _De Gub. Dei_, v. 30; _Ad Eccles._ iv. 22.\n\n  608 On the Augustales _v._ _Orell. Henz._ ii. p. 197; iii. p. 427;\n      Friedl\u00e4nder, _Cena Trim. Einl._ p. 39; Marq. _R\u00f6m. Staatsverw._ i.\n      513 sqq.; Nessling, _De Seviris Augustalibus._\n\n  609 v. 13, 6, et libertinas arca flagellat opes; cf. Sen. _Ep._ 27, \u00a7 5,\n      patrimonium libertini.\n\n  610 Petron. _Sat._ 48.\n\n  611 Tac. _Ann._ xiii. 27, si separarentur libertini manifestam fore\n      penuriam ingenuorum.\n\n  612 Plin. _Paneg._ 88.\n\n  613 Id. _Ep._ vii. 29; viii 6.\n\n  614 Tac. _Germ._ 25, liberti non multum supra servos sunt, raro aliquod\n      momentum in domo, nunquam in civitate.\n\n  615 Mart. ii. 29; iii. 29; xi. 37; iii. 82; v. 14.\n\n  616 Suet. _Ill. Gram._ xiii., xvii., xx.; cf. Marq. _Priv._ i. 158.\n\n  617 Sen. _Ep._ 47, \u00a7 1; _De Clem._ i. 18, 3; _De Ben._ iii. 21; _Ep._\n      77, \u00a7 31; Plin. _Ep._ viii. 16, 1; iii. 19, 7; ii. 17, 9; cf. Juv.\n      xiv. 16.\n\n  618 Sen. _Ep._ 47, servi sunt, immo humiles amici. Cf. Macrob. _Sat._ i.\n      11, 12; Eurip. _Ion_, 854; _Helen._ 730; Wallon, _L\u2019Esclav._ iii.\n      22.\n\n_  619 v._ supra, p. 92.\n\n  620 D. Cass. 69. 16; _C. Th._ xiii. 1, 21; Friedl. _Sittengesch._ i 197.\n\n  621 Juv. xiv. 270.\n\n  622 Juv. iii. 32.\n\n  623 Suet. _Vesp._ xxiii.\n\n  624 Stat. _Silv._ iii. 3, 83, Tu toties mutata ducum juga rite tulisti\n      Integer, etc.\n\n  625 Juv. iii. 153, Nil habet infelix paupertas durius in se, Quam quod\n      ridiculos homines facit; 164.\n\n  626 Id. i. 104.\n\n  627 Id. i. 26; iv. 108.\n\n  628 Juv. iii. 173.\n\n  629 Id. iv. 5, 23; vii. 180.\n\n  630 Id. xiv. 91, Ut spado vincebat Capitolia nostra Posides; cf. Suet.\n      _Claud._ xxviii.; Plin. _H. N._ xxxi. 2.\n\n  631 Juv. iii. 34 sqq.\n\n  632 Tac. _Ann._ xi. 37; xii. 25, 65; xi. 29; Suet. _Octav._ lxvii.; D.\n      Cass. lix. 29.\n\n  633 Suet. _Jul. Caes._ lxxvi.; cf. Friedl. _Sittengesch._ i. 56 sqq.\n\n  634 For such a career cf. _Or. Henz._ 6344.\n\n  635 Suet. _Octav._ lxvii.\n\n  636 Tac. _Ann._ iv. 6.\n\n_  637 Ib._ xiv. 39.\n\n  638 Suet. _Nero_, xxiii.\n\n  639 D. Cass. lxiv. 3; Suet. _Galba_, xiv.; Plut. _Galba_, c. 17.\n\n  640 D. Cass. lii. 25; Tac. _Hist._ i. 58, Vitellius ministeria\n      principatus per libertos agi solita in equites Romanos disponit.\n\n  641 Suet. _Vitell._ xii.\n\n  642 Id. _Vesp._ xvi.\n\n  643 Id. _Dom._ vii. quaedam ex maximis officiis inter libertinos\n      equitesque communicavit.\n\n  644 Plin. _Paneg._ 88.\n\n  645 Spart. _Hadr._ iv., xxi.; Mac\u00e9, _Su\u00e9tone_, p. 91.\n\n  646 Capitol. _Ant. P._ vi., xi.\n\n  647 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ i. 56.\n\n_  648 Ib._ i. p. 83.\n\n  649 Sen. _Ad Polyb._ vi. vii.\n\n  650 Sen. _Ad Polyb._ xi.\n\n  651 Statius, _Silv._ iii. 3.\n\n_  652 Ib._ 66, Tibereia primum Aula tibi\u2014Panditur.\n\n_  653 Ib._ 60.\n\n_  654 Ib._ 70.\n\n_  655 Ib._ 86.\n\n_  656 Ib._ 100.\n\n_  657 Ib._ 145.\n\n  658 Mart. vi. 83; Stat. _Silv._ iii. 160.\n\n  659 As to the form of his name _v._ Markland\u2019s _Statius_, p. 238.\n\n  660 Mac\u00e9, _Su\u00e9tone_, p. 91; cf. Tac. _Ann._ xi. 33.\n\n  661 Mac\u00e9, 92, 93; Friedl. _Sittengesch._ i. 86, 87.\n\n  662 Plin. _Ep._ viii. 12; _C.I.L._ vi. 798; Mac\u00e9, pp. 89, 115.\n\n  663 Mac\u00e9, pp. 90, 116.\n\n  664 Stat. _Silv._ v. 1, 80.\n\n_  665 Ib._ v. 118 sqq.\n\n_  666 Ib._ v. 210.\n\n  667 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ i. 88.\n\n  668 Tac. _Ann._ xi. 30, 37, 88.\n\n  669 Tac. _Ann._ xii. 57; xiii. 1.\n\n_  670 Ib._ xii. 25, 65.\n\n_  671 Ib._ xiii. 23.\n\n_  672 Ib._ xii. 53; Plin. _Ep._ viii. 6.\n\n  673 Tac. _Ann._ xii. 25, 65.\n\n_  674 Ib._ xiii. 14.\n\n_  675 Ib._ xiv. 65; Suet. _Nero_, xxxv.; D. Cass. 62. 14.\n\n  676 Marq. _R\u00f6m. St._ ii. p. 55; Duruy, v. p. 598; Friedl. _Sittengesch._\n      i. p. 192; cf. Olympiod. _ap._ Phot. \u00a7 44 (M\u00fcll. _Frag. Hist. Gr._\n      iv.).\n\n  677 Ael. Lamprid. _Heliogab._ x.; cf. Capitol. _Anton. P._ xi.; Suet.\n      _Claud._ xxviii.\n\n  678 Plin. _H. N._ xxxi. 2; xxxvi. 12.\n\n  679 Statius, _Silv._ i. 5, 36; Mart. vi. 42, et certant vario decore\n      saxa.\n\n  680 Mart. viii. 68.\n\n  681 Plin. _Ep._ vii. 29.\n\n  682 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ i. 75; _Or. Henz._ 6344.\n\n  683 Claud. _In Eutrop._ ii. 137.\n\n  684 Plin. _Paneg._ 88.\n\n  685 Suet. _Nero_, xv. in curiam libertinorum filios diu non admisit.\n\n  686 Tac. _Ann._ xi. 38; xii. 53.\n\n  687 Suet. _Galba_, xiv.; Tac. _Hist._ ii. 57; iv. 39.\n\n  688 Mart. iii. 29; v. 8, 14, 35, 23; cf. Friedl. _Sittengesch._ i. 212.\n\n  689 Suet. _Claud._ c. xxviii.\n\n_  690 Dig._ xxiii. 2, 44.\n\n  691 Statius, iii. 3, 115.\n\n  692 Id. v. 1, 53; Tac. _Hist._ v. 9; Suet. _Claud._ xxviii. Felicem ...\n      Judaeae proposuit\u2014trium reginarum maritum.\n\n  693 Catull. x. 26; Tibull. i. 3, 33; Ov. _Ars Am._ iii. 635; cf. _Amor._\n      i. 8, 73; iii. 9, 33.\n\n  694 Tac. _Ann._ xi. 29.\n\n_  695 Ib._ xiii. 12, 46; xiv. 2; Suet. _Nero_, xxviii. Acten libertam\n      paullum abfuit quin justo matrimonio sibi conjungeret.\n\n  696 Suet. _Nero_, l.\n\n  697 D. Cass. lxvi. 14.\n\n  698 Luc. _Imag._ 10. See Croiset\u2019s _Lucien_, p. 273, on the _Imagines_\n      as illustrating Lucian\u2019s power as a critic of art.\n\n  699 Xen. _Mem._ iii. 11; Plat. _Menex._ c. iv.\n\n  700 Cf. Friedl. _Sittengesch._ i. 82.\n\n  701 Suet. _De Ill. Gram._ xxi.\n\n  702 Marq. _Priv._ i. 189; Denis, _Id\u00e9es Morales_, ii. 208; Spart.\n      _Hadr._ xvii.\n\n  703 Sen. _De Ben._ iii. 21; _Ep._ 47; Plin. _Ep._ ii. 17, 9; viii. 16;\n      cf. Marq. _Priv._ i. 175.\n\n_  704 Or._ 2808.\n\n_  705 Ib._ 2874.\n\n_  706 Ib._ 2816.\n\n_  707 Ib._ 2862.\n\n  708 Sen. _De Clem._ i. 18.\n\n  709 Marq. _Priv._ i. 174.\n\n  710 Sen. _Ep._ 80, \u00a7 4, peculium suum quod comparaverunt ventre fraudato\n      pro capite numerant.\n\n  711 Apul. _Met._ x. 14; cf. Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ ii. 397.\n\n  712 v. 22, 10, negat lasso janitor esse domi; Sen. _Nec. Inj._ xiv.\n      cubicularii supercilium.\n\n  713 Momms. _R. H._ ii. 380 (Tr.)\n\n  714 Marq. _Priv._ i. 162 sq.\n\n_  715 C. Th._ ix. 30, 2; ii. 30, 2.\n\n  716 Marq. _Priv._ i. p. 163.\n\n  717 Petron. _Sat._ 76.\n\n  718 Marq. _Priv._ i. 165.\n\n_  719 Ib._ p. 178, n.\n\n  720 Mart. v. 70; cf. vii. 64.\n\n  721 Liv. xxi. 63, quaestus omnis patribus indecorus visus; D. Cass. 69.\n      16; cf. _C. Th._ xiii. 1, 4; _v._ Godefroy\u2019s note.\n\n  722 Plut. _Cat. Maj._ 21.\n\n  723 Petron. 77, sustuli me de negotiatione et coepi libertos foenerare.\n\n  724 Id. 77, assem habeas, assem valeas.\n\n  725 Id. 43, paratus fuit quadrantem de stercore mordicus tollere:\u2014in\n      manu illius plumbum aurum fiebat.\n\n  726 Petron. 76.\n\n  727 Id. 50\n\n_  728 Or._ 1175; cf. Teuffel, _Rom. Lit._ ii. \u00a7 300, n. 4.\n\n  729 Tac. _Ann._ xvi. 18, 19.\n\n  730 Macrob. _Som. Scip._ i. 2, 8.\n\n  731 Sidon. Apoll. _Carm._ ix. 268.\n\n  732 Sidon. Apoll. _Carm._ xxiii. 155, et te Massiliensium per hortos\n      sacri stipitis, Arbiter, colonum Hellespontiaco parem Priapo, etc.\n\n  733 Tac. _Ann._ xii. 8; xiii. 2; xv. 45, 60, 65; Tac. _Hist._ iii. 65.\n\n  734 Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._ p. 257, ce n\u2019est pas la coutume qu\u2019on mette son\n      id\u00e9al pr\u00e8s de soi.\n\n  735 Petron. 88, at nos vino scortisque demersi ne paratas quidem artes\n      audemus cognoscere, sed accusatores antiquitatis vitia tantum\n      docemus et discimus. This rather applies to the higher cultivated\n      class.\n\n  736 Petron. 118; cf. Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._ 213.\n\n  737 Petron. 70, 67.\n\n  738 Juv. vi. 115; Suet. _Nero_, xxvi.\n\n  739 Teuffel. _Rom. Lit._ \u00a7 300, n. 1.\n\n  740 Petron. 118, 119; cf. Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._ p. 239. Other proofs of the\n      date of the _Satiricon_ are the occurrence of names like Apelles and\n      Menecrates, c. 64, 73; cf. Suet. _Calig._ 33; _Nero_, 30; Friedl.\n      _Cena Trim. Einl._ 9; the reflections on decline of oratory, _Sat._\n      1; cf. Tac. _Dial. Or._ c. 35; the invention of a peculiar glass,\n      which belongs to the reign of Tiberius, cf. Plin. _H. N._ xxxvi. 66;\n      D. Cass. 57. 21 ad fin.\n\n  741 Tac. _Ann._ xvi. 18, vigentem se ac parem negotiis ostendit.\n\n  742 Plin. _H. N._ xxxvii. 7 (20), T. Petronius consularis moriturus\n      invidia Neronis, ... trullam myrrhinam HS.c\u0305c\u0305c\u0305 emptam fregit.\n\n  743 Tac. _Ann._ xvi. 19, sed flagitia principis et novitatem cujusque\n      stupri perscripsit atque obsignata misit Neroni.\n\n  744 Petron. 115, si bene calculum ponas, ubique naufragium est.\n\n  745 Id. 88. For a favourable estimate of the _Satiricon_, cf. Schiller\u2019s\n      _Gesch. r\u00f6m. Kaiserzeit_, i. 469, 470.\n\n  746 See Boissier\u2019s remarks, _L\u2019Opp._ p. 228.\n\n  747 Mart. v. 2; iii. 68; cf. Mahaffy, _Greek World under Roman Sway_, p.\n      298.\n\n  748 Teuffel, _Rom. Lit._ i. p. 239; Friedl. _Cena Trim. Einl._ 5.\n\n_  749 Ib._ p. 5.\n\n  750 Sidon. Apoll. _Carm._ ix. 268; xxiii. 155.\n\n  751 Petron. 81, cf. Friedl. _Cena Trim. Einl._ 6. Puteoli is excluded by\n      the complaints of municipal decay in c. 44: Naples, by the fact that\n      the town is a Roman colony (44, 57); Cumae was the only town in this\n      region which had Praetors. Cf. _Or. Henz._ 1498, 2263; Petron. 65.\n\n  752 Petron. _Sat._ 1, 2.\n\n  753 Tac. _De Or._ c. 31, 35.\n\n_  754 Rep._ vi. p. 492 A.\n\n  755 Petron. _Sat._ 83.\n\n_  756 Ib._ 114.\n\n_  757 Ib._ 116, nihil aliud est nisi cadavera quae lacerantur aut corvi\n      qui lacerant.\n\n_  758 Ib._ 117.\n\n  759 Petron. _Sat._ 124.\n\n_  760 Ib._ 140.\n\n_  761 Ib._ 141.\n\n_  762 Ib._ 75, 76.\n\n_  763 v._ Friedl. _Cena Trim. Einl._ p. 7. His cognomen Maecenatianus\n      marks him as a slave of the friend of Augustus who died 8 B.C.\n      Trimalchio would therefore be born _circ._ 18 B.C. (_Sat._ 71, 29,\n      75). He was perhaps over seventy at the time of the dinner (_Sat._\n      27, 77), which may therefore be placed about 57 A.D.\n\n  764 Petron. _Sat._ 48.\n\n_  765 Ib._ 77.\n\n_  766 Ib._ 38, scripsit ut illi ex India semen boletorum mitteretur.\n\n_  767 Ib._ 53.\n\n_  768 Ib._ 71; cf. Friedl. _Cena Trim._ p. 308.\n\n  769 Petron. _Sat._ 27.\n\n  770 Petron. _Sat._ 29.\n\n_  771 Ib._ 31.\n\n_  772 Ib._ 32.\n\n_  773 Ib._ 33.\n\n_  774 Ib._ 35.\n\n_  775 Ib._ 40.\n\n_  776 Ib._ 60; cf. Sen. _Ep._ 90, \u00a7 15, laquearia ita coagmentat ... ut\n      totiens tecta quotiens fercula mutentur.\n\n_  777 Sat._ 34; Cic. _Brut._, lxxxiii. The Consulship of Opim. was B.C.\n      121.\n\n  778 Petron. 48; on private and public libraries, cf. Sen. _De Tranq._ c.\n      ix.; Plin. _Ep._ i. 8, \u00a7 2; ii. 17, \u00a7 8; iii. 7, \u00a7 7; iv. 28, \u00a7 1;\n      Suet. _Vit. Pers._; Luc. _Adv. Indoct._ 1, 16; Mart. vii. 17, 1;\n      Suet. _J. Caes._ xliv.; _Octav._ xxix.; Marq. _Priv._ i. 114;\n      Gregorov. _Hadr._ (Tr.) p. 210; Mac\u00e9, _Su\u00e9tone_, p. 220; Sid. Apoll.\n      ii. 9.\n\n  779 Petron. 52.\n\n  780 Id. 59.\n\n  781 Id. 41; cf. Epict. iii. 23; Plin. _Ep._ i. 13; iii. 18, 4; vi. 15;\n      Mart. iii. 44, 45; 50.\n\n  782 Sen. _Brev. Vit._ xii. 2; _Or. Henz._ 3838; Mart. iv. 39; Marq.\n      _Priv._ ii. 688: Friedl. _Sittengesch._ iii. 84.\n\n  783 Petron. 53.\n\n  784 Id. 62, 63; cf. Apul. _Met._ i. 8.\n\n  785 Petron. 68.\n\n  786 Id. 52.\n\n  787 Petron. 38, 43.\n\n  788 Id. 43, in manu illius plumbum aurum fiebat.\n\n  789 Id. 38, Collibertos ejus cave contemnas, valde succosi sunt. _v._\n      Friedl. _Cena Trim._ p. 223.\n\n  790 Petron. 38.\n\n  791 Id. 42.\n\n  792 Id. 42, medicus nihil aliud est quam animi consolatio. For similar\n      opinions of the medical profession, cf. Petron. 56; D. Cass. lxix.\n      22, lxxi. 33; Mart. vi. 31; vi. 53; ii. 16; Epict. iii. 23, \u00a7 27;\n      Juv. iii. 77; Luc. _Philops._ c. 21, 26; _Adv. Indoct._ c. 29; Marq.\n      _Priv._ ii. 779. Sen. gives a higher idea of the craft, _De Ben._\n      vi. 16; cf. Apul. _Met._ x. 8, where the doctor rejects the base\n      proposals made to him.\n\n  793 Petron. 42, planetus est optime, etiam si maligne illum ploravit\n      uxor.\n\n  794 Id. 43.\n\n  795 Id. 43, noveram hominem olim oliorum, et adhuc salax est. On the\n      phrase olim oliorum _v._ Friedl. _Cena Trim._ p. 237.\n\n  796 Petron. 44.\n\n  797 Id. 44, haec colonia retroversus crescit tanquam coda vituli. This\n      passage is used to prove that Puteoli cannot be Trimalchio\u2019s town.\n      Friedl. _Cena Trim._ p. 239.\n\n  798 Petron. 44 _ad fin._ itaque statim urceatim plovebat.\n\n  799 Id. 45. On the meaning of Centonarius _v._ Marq. _Priv._ ii. 585.\n      They had a great number of Collegia, often leagued with the Fabri;\n      _v._ _Henz. Ind._ pp. 171-72; _C. Th._ xiv. 8.\n\n  800 For the cost of such shows, _v._ _Or._ 81; _C.I.L._ ii. _Suppl._ p.\n      1034; Friedl. _Cena Trim. Einl._ p. 58; Friedl. _Sittengesch._ ii.\n      p. 136.\n\n  801 Petron. 46, quid iste argutat molestus?\n\n  802 Petron. 46 _ad fin._; cf. Mart. v. 56; Juv. vii. 5, 176.\n\n  803 Petron. 57.\n\n  804 Id. 64.\n\n  805 Id. 67.\n\n  806 Id. 70.\n\n  807 Id. Ephesum tragoedum coepit imitare\u2014Sonst unbekannt, Friedl. _Cena\n      Trim._ 306.\n\n  808 Cf. _Or. Henz._ 4070, 7321; Petron. 71, valde enim falsum est vivo\n      quidem domos cultas esse, non curari eas ubi diutius nobis\n      habitandum est.\n\n_  809 v._ the monument of C. Munatius Faustus at Pompeii, _C.I.L._ x.\n      1030. But Mau, p. 415 (Tr.), interprets it differently from Friedl.\n      _Cena Trim._ p. 307.\n\n  810 See the monument of the surgeon oculist of Assisi, _Or._ 2983, who\n      records the amount he gave for his freedom, his benefactions, and\n      his fortune. _v. C.I.L._ v. 4482, the monument of Valerius Anteros\n      Asiaticus, a Sevir Aug. of Brescia.\n\n  811 Plin. _H. N._ xxvi. 2 (26); xxviii. 6 (57), plerique (suadent)\n      anulum e sinistra in longissimum dextrae digitum transferre.\n\n  812 Petron. 75, ad hanc me fortunam frugalitas mea perduxit.\n\n  813 Id. 78; cf. Sen. _De Brev. Vit._ xx. 3, where a similar scene is\n      described. Turannius\u2014componi se in lecto et velut exanimem a\n      circumstante familia plangi jussit.\n\n  814 Some of Pliny\u2019s older friends, the elder Pliny, Quintilian,\n      Spurinna, Verginius Rufus, go back to the age which Juvenal\n      professes to attack (i. 170). But, although Juvenal mentions few\n      names of his own generation, such as Isaeus, Archigenes, and Marius\n      Priscus, a comparison between his subjects and those of Martial\n      shows that they were dealing with the same social facts. Cf.\n      Teuffel, _R. Lit._ ii. \u00a7 326, n. 5; Nettleship, _Lectures and\n      Essays_, p. 124 sqq.\n\n  815 Momms. _Plin._ (Morel), p. 7; Peter, _Gesch. Litt._ ii. 77;\n      Nettleship, _Lectures and Essays_, 131.\n\n  816 Plin. _Ep._ vii. 28.\n\n  817 Mart. iii. 68, 86; v. 2.\n\n  818 Ov. _Amor._ iii. 4, 2.\n\n  819 Ov. _Trist._ ii. 212, 346, 353, Vita verecunda est, Musa jocosa\n      mihi; 497.\n\n  820 Tac. _De Or._ 28, non in cella emptae nutricis sed gremio ac sinu\n      matris educabatur; A. Gell. xii. 1.\n\n  821 Quintil. i. 2, 4, 8; nostras amicas, nostros concubinos vident.\n\n  822 Stob. _Flor._ vi. 61; Suet. _Nero_, xxvii.; cf. Denis, _Id\u00e9es\n      Morales, etc._, ii. p. 134.\n\n  823 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 16; iii. 5; iv. 19; vi. 4; vii. 5.\n\n  824 Tac. _Agric._ 4.\n\n  825 Plin. _Ep._ i. 14.\n\n  826 Tac. _Ann._ iii. 55, sed praecipuus adstricti moris auctor\n      Vespasianus erat; Suet. _Vesp._ ix.; cf. Schiller, _Gesch. R\u00f6m.\n      Kaiserz._ ii. 506; Duruy, iv. 646; Renan, _Les. \u00c9v._ 140, 381;\n      _L\u2019Ant\u00e9chr._ 494.\n\n  827 Pliny is pleased with the virtuous monotony, _Ep._ iii. i. \u00a7 2, me\n      autem ut certus siderum cursus ita vita hominum disposita delectat,\n      senum praesertim; cf. iii. 5.\n\n  828 Momms. _Plin._ (Morel), p. 32.\n\n  829 The Caecilii were probably established at Como from 59 B.C.; cf.\n      Catull. 35; Plin. _Ep._ iv. 30, 1; vii. 32, 1; vi. 24, 5; ix. 7;\n      Momms. _Plin._ p. 33 (Morel).\n\n  830 Plin. _Ep._ ii. 1; vi. 10.\n\n  831 Tac. _Hist._ i. 8, 52; ii. 49.\n\n  832 Plin. _Ep._ vi. 20, 5. He was in his eighteenth year when the famous\n      eruption of Vesuvius took place 79 A.D., D. Cass. lxvi. 21 sq.\n\n  833 Plin. _Ep._ iv. 13, 3.\n\n  834 Rendall, xiii. in Mayor\u2019s ed. Plin. _Ep._ iii.; Plin. _H. N._ ii. 85\n      (199).\n\n  835 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 5; _Hist. Nat. Praef._ 3; Suet. _Vit. Plin._ He was\n      56 at his death in A.D. 79; cf. Peter, _Gesch. Litt._ i. 119, 420.\n\n  836 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 5, \u00a7 13; Persius, who was eleven years younger than\n      the elder Pliny, shows a character of the same type, cf. Pers.\n      _Sat._ ii. 71-74; iii. 66 sqq.; cf. Martha, _Les Moralistes sous\n      l\u2019Emp._ p. 131 sqq.\n\n  837 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 5.\n\n_  838 Praef. H. N._ \u00a7 17; cf. \u00a7 18, profecto enim vita vigilia est.\n\n  839 Plin. _Ep._ i. 14; cf. Tac. _Agr._ iv.; Juv. iii. 165.\n\n  840 Plin. _Ep._ iii. i; ii. 7; i. 12; v. 11.\n\n  841 Cf. Pliny\u2019s letter to Calpurnia\u2019s aunt, _Ep._ iv. 19, quae nihil in\n      contubernio tuo viderit nisi sanctum honestumque; cf. viii. 5; v.\n      16.\n\n  842 Tac. _Hist._ ii. 78; iv. 81.\n\n  843 Cf. _Or._ 746, 2364.\n\n  844 Suet. _Vesp._ ii. locum incunabulorum assidue frequentavit, manente\n      villa qualis fuerat olim, etc.\n\n_  845 Ib._ viii. ix.\n\n  846 D. Cass. lxvi. 8, Suet. _Vesp._ xvi., cf. Meriv. vii. 274; cf.\n      Schiller, _Gesch. r\u00f6m. Kaiserzeit_, p. 515.\n\n  847 Suet. _Vesp._ lx.; _Or._ 746, sacr. aedium restitutori, 1460, 1868,\n      2364, D. Cass. lxvi. 10.\n\n  848 Suet. _Vesp._ xvii.\n\n_  849 Ib._ xix.\n\n_  850 Ib._ xviii.; continued by Hadrian, Spart. xvi.; by Ant. Pius,\n      Capitol. xi.; by Alex. Severus, Lamprid. xliv.; cf. _C. Th._ xiii.\n      3, 1, 2, 3; Eum. _Or. pro Scholis_, c. 11.\n\n_  851 v._ _Rom. Soc. in the Last Century of the Western Empire_ (1st\n      ed.), p. 355.\n\n  852 Mommsen, _Rom. Prov._ (Tr.) i. p. 76.\n\n  853 Pliny probably came to Rome about 72 A.D. Rendall, xiv.; in Mayor\u2019s\n      Pliny, _Ep._ iii.; cf. Quintil. _Prooem._ i.\n\n  854 Plin. _Ep._ ii. 14, 10; vi. 6, 3; vi. 32.\n\n  855 Quintil. _Inst. Or._ i. 2, 6; cf. Plin. _Ep._ iii. 3, 4, cui in hoc\n      lubrico aetatis non praeceptor modo sed custos etiam rectorque\n      quaerendus est; cf. _Ep._ iv. 13, 4, ubi enim pudicius contineantur\n      quam sub oculis parentum; cf. Tac. _Dial. de Or._ 28.\n\n  856 Quintil. _Inst. Prooem._ i. 9-11; ii. 2, 15; xii. 1, 1; xii. 7, 7,\n      non convenit ei, quem oratorem esse volumus, injusta tueri scientem.\n\n_  857 Ib._ vi. _Prooem._ 4.\n\n  858 Plin. _Ep._ ii. 13, hunc ego, cum simul studeremus, arte\n      familiariterque dilexi, etc.\n\n_  859 Ib._ v. 14; _Paneg._ 91, 92; cf. Momms. _Plin._ p. 64.\n\n  860 Plin. _Ep._ vi. 6.\n\n_  861 Ib._ vii. 16, 2; i. 10, 3; cf. Momms. p. 52. Pliny\u2019s service with\n      the iii. Gallica was later than September, A.D. 81.\n\n  862 Plin. _Ep._ i. 10, 4; cf. Tac. _Agr._ iv.\n\n  863 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 11, 5.\n\n_  864 Ib._ i. 10; cf. Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ v. 37, 40; vi. 8.\n\n  865 Plin. _Ep._ vii. 26, 4.\n\n_  866 Ib._ iii. 11, 2; Suet. _Dom._ x.; D. Cass. lxvii. 10; cf. Momms. p.\n      59, where the date of Pliny\u2019s praetorship is fixed.\n\n  867 Suet. _Dom._ x.\n\n  868 Plin. _Ep._ i. 14; cf. iii. 11, 3.\n\n_  869 Ib._ iii. 16; cf. vii. 19; ix. 13.\n\n  870 Tac. _Ann._ xvi. 34.\n\n  871 Plin. _Ep._ vii. 19, 4; for the character of Helvidius Priscus, cf.\n      Tac. _Hist._ iv. 5.\n\n  872 Suet. _Vesp._ xv.; D. Cass. lxvi. 12; cf. Peter, _Gesch. Litt._ ii.\n      98.\n\n  873 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 16, 7.\n\n  874 Tac. _Ann._ xvi. 21; D. Cass. lxii. 26.\n\n  875 Tac. _Ann._ xiv. 12; xvi. 21, 22; cf. D. Cass. 61. 15.\n\n  876 Tac. _Ann._ xvi. 26.\n\n  877 Plin. _Ep._ vii. 19.\n\n  878 Renan, _Les \u00c9vangiles_, p. 142, treats the philosophic opposition as\n      a mere aristocratic reaction; cf. pp. 287, 382. Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._\n      p. 103; Schiller, _Gesch. d. r\u00f6m. Kaiserz._ pp. 509, 536.\n\n  879 Plin. _Ep._ v. 8, 8; Momms. p. 52.\n\n  880 Plin. _Ep._ vi. 1; iv. 16; vi. 23, 2.\n\n_  881 Ib._ i. 20, 7.\n\n_  882 Ib._ vi. 33, 8-11.\n\n_  883 Ib._ iv. 16.\n\n_  884 Ib._ iv. 19, 3. disponit qui nuntient sibi quem assensum, quos\n      clamores excitarim, quem eventum judicii tulerim.\n\n_  885 Ib._ vi. 11.\n\n_  886 Ib._ ii. 14, 4.\n\n  887 Plin. _Ep._ vi. 2, 6.\n\n  888 For the career and character of M. Aquilius Regulus, _v._ Tac.\n      _Hist._ iv. 42; Plin. _Ep._ i. 5; i. 20, 15; ii. 11; ii. 20; iv. 2;\n      vi. 2; and Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._ p. 193.\n\n  889 Mart. i. 13, 83, 112, Cum tibi sit sophiae par fama et cura deorum,\n      etc.\n\n  890 Mart. vii. 31.\n\n_  891 Ib._ vi. 38; vi. 64, 11.\n\n_  892 Ib._ vii. 16.\n\n  893 Plin. _Ep._ iv. 7, \u00a7 4.\n\n_  894 Ib._ i. 20, 15; cf. references to the archaic literary taste of the\n      day in Mart. v. 10.\n\n  895 Plin. _Ep._ v. 12.\n\n_  896 Ib._ vi. 2, 5.\n\n_  897 Ib._ ii. 20.\n\n_  898 Ib._ iv. 2.\n\n  899 For the light which this throws on the production of books in that\n      age, _v._ Haenny, _Schriftsteller u. Buchh\u00e4ndler_, pp. 39-41.\n\n  900 Plin. _Ep._ ii. 10, 4; iii. 7, 14, quatenus nobis denegatur diu\n      vivere, relinquamus aliquid quo nos vixisse testemur; v. 5, 4; v. 8,\n      2, me autem nihil aeque ac diuturnitatis amor sollicitat; cf. vii.\n      20.\n\n  901 Stat. _Silv._ ii. 2.\n\n  902 Mart. ii. 7; v. 30; iii 20; iv. 23; v. 23. For the same breadth of\n      accomplishment in the fifth century, cf. Sidon. Apoll. _Carm._ v.\n      97; ii. 156; xxiii. 101; _Rom. Soc. in the Last Cent. of the Western\n      Empire_ (1st ed.), p. 375.\n\n  903 Mart. vi. 60.\n\n_  904 Ib._ iv. 14.\n\n  905 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 21. This book is dated by Mommsen 101 A.D. (_Plin._\n      p. 14, Morel; _v._ App. C, p. 95); cf. Friedl\u00e4nder\u2019s _Martial_,\n      \u201cChronologie der Epigr. Mart.\u201d p. 66.\n\n  906 Plin. _Ep._ iv. 8, 4; v. 12, est mihi cum Cicerone aemulatio.\n\n_  907 Ib._ vii. 30.\n\n  908 Plin. _Ep._ viii. 24, reverere gloriam veterem et hanc ipsam\n      senectutem quae in homine venerabilis, in urbibus sacra.\n\n_  909 Ib._ vii. 4, 2, Qualem? inquis. Nescio; tragoedia vocabatur.\n\n_  910 Ib._ vii. 4, 3.\n\n_  911 Ib._ iv. 14, cf. Ov. _Trist._ ii. 365, who makes pretty much the\n      same excuse to Augustus.\n\n  912 Plin. _Ep._ v. 3.\n\n  913 Cf. Nettleship, _Lectures and Essays_, 2nd Series, p. 39.\n\n_  914 Ep._ iii. 13, 5; vii. 17.\n\n_  915 Ep._ iii. 18; cf. ii. 19.\n\n  916 Teuffel, _R. Lit._ \u00a7 387; Mackail, _Lat. Lit._ p. 264; _Rom. Soc. in\n      the Last Cent. of the W. Empire_ (1st ed.), p. 357.\n\n  917 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 15.\n\n_  918 Ib._ 1, 20. It is curious that this praise of amplitude should be\n      addressed to Tacitus; cf. Nipperdey, _Einleit._ xxxiv.\n\n  919 Macrob. _Sat._ v. 1, 7; Sidon. Apoll. i. 1, 1; iv. 22, 2, ego Plinio\n      ut discipulus assurgo.\n\n  920 Sym. _Ep._ v. 85. Seeck, _Prol._ xlv.\n\n  921 Momms. _Plin._ (Tr.) p. 2; cf. Haenny, _Schriftsteller_, etc. p. 19.\n\n  922 Plin. _Ep._ i. 1; vii. 28; i. 15; viii. 1; Mac\u00e9, _Su\u00e9tone_, p. 87.\n\n  923 Momms. _Plin._ p. 4.\n\n_  924 Ib._ pp. 7, 24; Teuffel, \u00a7 335, 1.\n\n  925 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 18, 5; viii. 12, literarum senescentium reductor;\n      Stat. _Silv._ i. Prooem.; _Petron._ 88; cf. Sidon. Apoll. _Ep._\n      viii. 8; ii. 14; vii. 15; ii. 10, 1.\n\n  926 Plin. _Ep._ vi. 17, \u00a7 5.\n\n_  927 Ib._ vii. 17; v. 12.\n\n_  928 Ib._ vii. 20; viii. 7.\n\n_  929 Ib._ vii. 20; ix. 23, ad hoc illum \u201cTacitus es an Plinius?\u201d\n\n_  930 Ib._ vi. 16, 2.\n\n_  931 Ib._ iii. 21, 6, at non erunt aeterna quae scripsit; non erunt\n      fortasse; ille tamen scripsit tanquam essent futura.\n\n_  932 Ib._ iii. 7, scribebat carmina majore cura quam ingenio.\n\n  933 Mart. vii. 63; Tac. _Hist._ iii. 65.\n\n_  934 v._ Teuffel, _R. Lit._ \u00a7 315, n. 5, and the opinions collected by\n      Mayor, _Plin._ iii. p. 120.\n\n  935 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 7, 3.\n\n_  936 v._ Mayor, _Plin._ iii. p. 114, for a learned note on suicide in\n      the early Empire.\n\n  937 Pliny, _Ep._ iv. 23, 3. For a similar ideal in the fifth century,\n      _v._ _Roman Society in the Last Century of the Western Empire_, p.\n      165 (1st ed.).\n\n  938 Plin. _Ep._ v. 8, \u00a7 1.\n\n  939 For a good example cf. Plin. _Ep._ iii. 15.\n\n  940 Capitol. _Ant. P._ 1.\n\n  941 Plin. _Ep._ iv. 3.\n\n_  942 Ib._ iv. 18; cf. viii. 4.\n\n  943 Tac. _Hist._ ii. 11; ii. 18, 36; Plin. _Ep._ i. 5; ii. 7; iii. 1,\n      scribit et quidem utraqua lingua, lyra doctissima. Spurinna was 77,\n      at the date of this letter, A.D. 101-102; Momms. p. 11.\n\n  944 Plin. _Ep._ iv. 27; cf. ix. 8.\n\n_  945 Ib._ vi. 15; ix. 22.\n\n  946 Plin. _Ep._ vi. 21.\n\n_  947 C.I.L._ vi. 798; _Or._ 801. He was Secretary (ab Epistulis) under\n      Domitian, Nerva, and Trajan; cf. Mac\u00e9, _Su\u00e9tone_, pp. 91, 93, 115.\n\n  948 Plin. _Ep._ i. 17; viii. 12. Cf. C. Fannius, who wrote a history of\n      the victims of Nero, Plin. _Ep._ v. 5. He died _circ._ 106, Mac\u00e9, p.\n      82.\n\n  949 Plin. _Ep._ v. 8. For similar unwillingness, cf. Sidon. Apoll. _Ep._\n      iv. 22.\n\n  950 Plin. _Ep._ i. 3.\n\n_  951 Ib._ viii. 4; ix. 33.\n\n  952 Mart. iv. 33; vi. 14.\n\n  953 Momms. _Plin._ p. 13, puts his birth in 77 A.D.; but cf. Mac\u00e9, p.\n      35, who places it in the year 69; see too Peter, _Gesch. Litt._ ii.\n      67. The indications in Suet. are _Domit._ xii.; _Ill. Gramm._ iv.;\n      _Nero_, lvii.\n\n  954 Mac\u00e9, p. 83; Peter, ii. 69; cf. Krause, _De Sueton. Fontibus._\n\n  955 For the authorities, _v._ Mac\u00e9, p. 29.\n\n  956 From 97 to 101 A.D., _ib._ pp. 53-57.\n\n  957 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 8.\n\n_  958 Ib._ i. 24; of the year 97. On the meaning of _contubernalis_,\n      Suetonius being 28, and Pliny 35 years of age, _v._ Mac\u00e9, p. 50.\n\n  959 Plin. _Ad Traj._ 94; cf. Mac\u00e9, p. 50.\n\n  960 Plin. _Ep._ i. 18.\n\n  961 Mac\u00e9, p. 68; Plin. _Ep._ v. 10; Momms. _Plin._ p. 18.\n\n  962 Mac\u00e9, p. 69.\n\n  963 Mac\u00e9, p. 90. For the disgrace of Suetonius, _v._ Spart. _Hadr._ xi.\n      2.\n\n  964 Plin. _Paneg._ 53.\n\n  965 See _Roman Society in the Last Century of the Western Empire_, p.\n      348 sq. (1st ed.).\n\n  966 Virg. _Aen._ vi. 848 sq.\n\n  967 Ov. _Trist._ iv. 128; Hor. _Carm._ ii. 20; Friedl. _Sittengesch._\n      iii. p. 299.\n\n  968 Mau, _Pompeii_ (Tr.), 486, 488; _C.I.L._ ii. 4967.\n\n  969 Tac. _De Or._ 13, auditis in theatro Virgilii versibus surrexit\n      universus populus, etc.\n\n  970 Petron. _Sat._ 68.\n\n  971 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 18, 4; viii. 12, 1; cf. Seneca\u2019s complaints of his\n      time, _Ep._ 95, \u00a7 23; 100; Petron. 83-4.\n\n  972 Tac. _Dial. de Or._ 20; Mart. v. 10; cf. Suet. _Octav._ 86,\n      Cacozelos et antiquarios, ut diverso genere vitiosos, pari fastidio\n      sprevit; Pers. i. 69 sq.; Sen. _Ep._ 114. For Hadrian\u2019s preference\n      of Ennius to Virgil, etc., _v._ Spart. _Hadr._ c. 16; A. Gell. xii.\n      2; Mac\u00e9, p. 96; Martha, _Les Moralistes sous l\u2019Empire Rom._ p. 184.\n\n  973 Sen. _Ep._ 114, \u00a7 13, duodecim tabulas loquuntur.\n\n  974 Tac. _Dial. de Or._ 20.\n\n  975 Tac. _De Or._ 12.\n\n_  976 Ib._ 9, 10.\n\n  977 Suet. _Dom._ iv.\n\n  978 Stat. v. 3, 225; cf. Suet. _Claud._ xi. A Greek comedy in honour of\n      Germanicus was performed.\n\n  979 Suet. _Ner._ xii. Suetonius says it was the first of the kind. It\n      was called \u201cNeronia.\u201d\n\n_  980 Or._ 2603, to L. Val. Pudens, erected by his fellow-citizens in\n      A.D. 110. He was only 13. _v._ Teuffel, \u00a7 314, n. 4; Friedl.\n      _Sittengesch._ iii. p. 324.\n\n  981 Plin. _Ep._ vi. 2; ix. 11, 2; Mart. vii. 8. Cf. Haenny, _Schriftst.\n      u. Buchh._ ii. p. 24 sqq.\n\n  982 Epict. iii. 23, \u00a7 11.\n\n  983 Mart. iii. 44, 45; iv. 81.\n\n  984 Juv. i. 2; iii. 9.\n\n  985 Petron. _Sat._ 90, 91, 115.\n\n  986 Plin. _Ep._ i. 13; ii. 19; iv. 5; 27; v. 12; vi. 17, 21; viii. 21.\n\n  987 Plin. _Ep._ vi. 17.\n\n_  988 Ib._ iv. 27.\n\n_  989 Ib._ iii. 18; iv. 5.\n\n_  990 Ib._ i. 13, 2; vi. 17; viii. 12, 1.\n\n_  991 Ib._ vii 17, 7, quia in numero ipso est quoddam magnum conlatumque\n      consilium. Cf. Arist. _Pol._ iii. 11, _\u03b4\u03b9\u1f78 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u03c1\u03af\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f04\u03bc\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03bf\u1f31\n      \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03bc\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03ba\u1fc6\u03c2 \u1f14\u03c1\u03b3\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03b7\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd_.\n\n  992 Sidon. Apoll. _Ep._ ii. 14; vii. 15; i. 6.\n\n  993 Plin. _Ep._ viii. 12. Seneca was even more pessimist, cf. _Ep._ 95,\n      \u00a7 23; 100; _De Brev. V._ xiii. 1.\n\n  994 Plin. _Ep._ i. 9; quot dies quam frigidis rebus absumpsi! cf. the\n      social life of Symmachus, _Roman Society in the Last Century of the\n      Western Empire_, p. 128 sq. (1st ed.).\n\n  995 Sen. _De Tranq._ xii.; Juv. iii. xi. Mart. xii. 18.\n\n  996 Plin. _Ep._ i. 9; iv. 1.\n\n  997 Mart. iii. 58.\n\n  998 Plin. _Ep._ v. 6, \u00a7 7, 8; i. 3; ix. 7 \u00a7 4.\n\n_  999 Ep._ viii. 8; cf. Virg. _Georg._ ii. 146; once visited by Caligula,\n      Suet. _Calig._ 43.\n\n 1000 Plin. _Ep._ i. 6, solitudo ipsumque illud silentium quod venationi\n      datur magna cogitationis incitamenta sunt.\n\n_ 1001 Ib._ iii. 1, \u00a7 7.\n\n_ 1002 Ib._ vii. 25.\n\n 1003 Sidon. Apoll. _Ep._ i. 6; ii. 14; vii. 15.\n\n 1004 Stat. _Silv._ ii. 2, 22, spumant templa salo.\n\n 1005 Plin. _Ep._ v. 6.\n\n_ 1006 Ib._ ii. 17, \u00a7 27.\n\n 1007 Stat. _Silv._ ii. 2, 53; cf. iii. 1, 124.\n\n_ 1008 Ib._ i. 3, 20-37.\n\n 1009 Imposed by Trajan on candidates for office, Plin. _Ep._ vi. 19. This\n      was a repetition of former enactments, _e.g._ Suet. _Tib._ 48. It\n      was revived again by M. Aurelius, Capitol. xi. Exclusion from\n      commerce necessitated investments in land. Plin. _Ep._ iii. 19, sum\n      prope totus in praediis, aliquid tamen foenero. In A.D. 106 the\n      price of land was rising, _Ep._ vi. 19; but cf. iii. 19 (A.D. 101);\n      see Friedl. i. p. 197.\n\n 1010 Sen. _De Benef._ vii. 10, 5; _Ep._ 89, \u00a7 20; Mart. v. 13, 7; Petron.\n      _Sat._ 76, 77; Stat. _Silv._ ii. 6, 62.\n\n 1011 Plin. _Ep._ ii. 17; v. 6; ix. 7; iv. 1; iv. 13.\n\n 1012 Mart. vii. 31.\n\n 1013 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 7.\n\n 1014 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ iii. 64.\n\n 1015 Plin. _Ep._ ii. 17; Stat. _Silv._ ii. 2, 76.\n\n 1016 Plin. ii. 17, \u00a7 16.\n\n 1017 Stat. _Silv._ i. 3, 29.\n\n 1018 Plin. _Ep._ ii. 17, \u00a7 24.\n\n 1019 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ iii. 87.\n\n 1020 Plin. _Ep._ v. 6.\n\n 1021 Stat. _Silv._ ii. 2, 85; i. 5, 36; Friedl. _Sittengesch._ iii. 65.\n\n 1022 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 6; cf. the taste of Silius Italicus, iii. 7, 8;\n      Petron. _Sat._ 50, 88; Mahaffy, _Greek World_, etc., p. 139 sq.\n\n 1023 Stat. _Silv._ i. 3, 50; ii. 2, 63 sq.; Mart. iv. 39.\n\n 1024 Friedl. iii. 196; cf. Croiset, _Lucien_, c. ix. p. 265; Marq.\n      _Priv._ ii. 611.\n\n 1025 Plin. _Ep._ v. 6, 7; cf. ii. 17, \u00a7 3.\n\n_ 1026 Ib._ ii. 17, \u00a7 15; v. 6, \u00a7 33.\n\n 1027 Suet. _Nero_, xxvii.; Friedl. iii. 77 sqq.\n\n 1028 Plin. _Ep._ ix. 36; iii. 1.\n\n_ 1029 Ib._ iii. 5, \u00a7 15.\n\n_ 1030 Ib._ iii. 1.\n\n_ 1031 Ib._ ix. 36, \u00a7 6.\n\n 1032 Plin. _Ep._ iv. 1.\n\n_ 1033 Ib._ iii. 19.\n\n_ 1034 Ib._ \u00a7 7. This estate was once worth HS.5,000,000; it was now\n      offered for HS.3,000,000, _i.e._ \u00a325,000; cf. _Ep._ iv. 6; ii. 4, 3.\n      The letter iii. 19 belongs to the year 101 A.D.; but in _Ep._ vi. 19\n      (106 A.D.) it appears that the price of land was rising, owing to\n      competition, and Pliny advises Nepos to sell his Italian estates and\n      buy others in the provinces; cf. vi. 3, 1.\n\n_ 1035 Ep._ ix. 37, medendi una ratio, si non nummo sed partibus locem;\n      cf. J. S. Mill, _Pol. Econ._ bk. ii. c. 8, 1; A. Young, _Travels in\n      France_, p. 18.\n\n 1036 Plin. _Ep._ viii. 2; ix. 37, 3.\n\n_ 1037 Ib._ viii. 16; cf. the Lex Coll. Cultorum Dianae et Antinoi, _Or.\n      Henz._ 6086. The slave member is permitted to dispose of his\n      funeraticium by will. Marq. _Priv._ i. 189.\n\n 1038 Sen. _Ep._ 31; 47; 77; _De Clem._ i. 18, 3; _De Ben._ iii. 21; Juv.\n      xiv. 16; D. Chr. _Or._ x.; Spart. _Hadr._ 18, \u00a7 7; Boissier, _Rel.\n      Rom._ ii. 358; Denis, _des Id\u00e9es Morales_, etc., ii. 208 sq.;\n      Wallon, _L\u2019Esclav._ i. c. 11; Marq. i. 189.\n\n_ 1039 Ep._ vii. 32. Fabatus seems to have been a model country squire;\n      cf. _Ep._ iv. 1; v. 11; vi. 12; vii. 11; viii. 10.\n\n_ 1040 Ib._ viii. 1.\n\n_ 1041 Ib._ v. 19; cf. Sen. _Ep._ 27, \u00a7 6; Friedl. _SG._ iii. 89; Marq.\n      _Priv._ i. 158.\n\n 1042 Plin. _Ep._ v. 19.\n\n 1043 Mart. i. 44; iii. 49; Juv. v. 25 sqq.; cf. Sen. _De Ben._ vi. 33, \u00a7\n      4.\n\n 1044 Plin. _Ep._ ii. 6.\n\n_ 1045 Or. Henz._ 2862, 2874, 6389.\n\n 1046 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 14.\n\n_ 1047 Ib._ vi. 25; cf. the similar fate of Lampridius, at the close of\n      the Western Empire in Gaul, Sid. Apoll. _Ep._ viii. 11. \u00a7 10.\n\n 1048 Sen. _Ep._ 4, \u00a7 8; 107, 5.\n\n 1049 See a great mass of instances and authorities collected, with his\n      unique learning, by Mayor, _Plin._ iii. pp. 114, 115; cf. Boissier,\n      _L\u2019Opp._ p. 212.\n\n 1050 Sen. _Ep._ 24, \u00a7 11; 58, \u00a7 36; 70, \u00a7 8; 117, \u00a7 22; _De Prov._ ii.\n      10; vi. 7; _De Ira_, iii. 15; Epict. i. 24; cf. ii. 15; iii. 24; M.\n      Aurel. x. 8; x. 32; cf. Mommsen, _De Coll._ p. 100.\n\n 1051 Sen. _Ep._ 70, \u00a7 21, dum hoc constat praeferendam esse spurcissimam\n      mortem servituti mundissimae.\n\n_ 1052 Ib._ 58, \u00a7 36, non adferam mihi manus propter dolorem: hunc tamen\n      si sciero perpetuo mihi esse patiendum, exibo; non propter ipsum,\n      sed quia impedimento mihi futurus est ad omne propter quod vivitur\n      ... prosiliam ex aedificio putri ac ruenti.\n\n 1053 Plin. _Ep._ i. 22, 10; Aristo was a fine type of the puritan pagan,\n      an \u201cimago priscae frugalitatis.\u201d\n\n_ 1054 Ib._ iii. 7, 1. For similar instances, _v._ Sen. _Ep._ 70, \u00a7 6;\n      Tac. _Ann._ xi. 3; Suet. _Tib._ 53; Petron. 111; Epict. ii. 15.\n\n 1055 Plin. _Ep._ ix. 13, 6; cf. iv. 17, 4; vii.\n\n_ 1056 Ib._ i. 12, 10. It is characteristic of the time that his last word\n      was _\u03ba\u03ad\u03ba\u03c1\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1_.\n\n_ 1057 Ib._ vi. 24.\n\n 1058 Pliny boasts of idealising his friends; vii. 28, agnosco crimen....\n      Ut enim non sint tales quales a me praedicantur, ego tamen beatus\n      quod mihi videntur.\n\n 1059 Plin. _Ep._ viii. 18; iv. 21; viii. 10, 11, neque enim ardentius tu\n      pronepotes quam ego liberos cupio; cf. iv. 15, 3, fecunditate uxoris\n      frui voluit eo saeculo quo plerisque etiam singulos filios orbitatis\n      praemia graves faciunt.\n\n_ 1060 Ib._ iii. 3, in hac licentia temporum.\n\n_ 1061 Ib._ iv. 25, proximis comitiis in quibusdam tabellis multa\n      jocularia atque etiam foeda dictu ... inventa sunt.\n\n_ 1062 Ib._ viii. 23, 3, ipsi sibi exempla sunt.\n\n_ 1063 Ib._ vii. 24, she was born about A.D. 27, in the reign of Tiberius.\n      Ummidia had the virtue of liberality; she built an amphitheatre and\n      temple for Casinum, _Or. Henz._ 781.\n\n 1064 Plin. _Ep._ vii. 28, 2.\n\n 1065 Cf. _Ep._ v. 14, on his relations with Cornutus Tertullus: quae\n      societas amicitiarum artissima nos familiaritate conjunxit.\n\n 1066 Plin. _Ep._ vi. 6; vi. 32; in which he offers a dowry to\n      Quintilian\u2019s daughter in the most delicate way; cf. Juv. iii. 215;\n      xv. 150; Sen. _De Benef._ ii. 21, 5; iv. 11, 3; Tac. _Ann._ iv. 62;\n      yet cf. the judgment of D. Chrys. _Or._ vii. \u00a7 82; Denis, _Id\u00e9es\n      Morales_, ii. 175 sqq.\n\n 1067 Plin. _Ep._ viii. 23, 2; vi. 11, 3; i. 12, 12; ii. 1, 8 (of\n      Verginius Rufus), sic candidatum me suffragio ornavit, etc., iii. 1,\n      6 (of Spurinna), quibus praeceptis imbuare!\n\n 1068 Plin. _Ad Traj._ 87, 94.\n\n 1069 Id. _Ep._ vi. 29.\n\n_ 1070 Ib._ iii. 3.\n\n 1071 Plin. _Ep._ vi. 11.\n\n_ 1072 Ib._ vi. 26.\n\n_ 1073 Ib._ iv. 15. Fundanus\u2019s consulship is mentioned in two\n      inscriptions, _Or._ 1588, 2471. There is a difficulty about the\n      dates which is discussed in Momms. _Plin._ p. 17, n. 3. Fundanus\n      does not appear in the _Fasti_.\n\n 1074 Sen. _Ad Marc._ xiii. xiv.; _Ad Helv._ xvi.\n\n_ 1075 Ad Marc._ xvi. par illis, mihi crede, vigor, etc. _Ad Helv._ xvii.\n      4, cf. Plut. _Conj. Praec._ xlviii. _\u03c6\u03b1\u03c1\u03bc\u03ac\u03ba\u03c9\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u1ff3\u03b4\u1f70\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f50 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03b4\u03ad\u03be\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\n      (\u1f21 \u03b3\u03c5\u03bd\u1f74) \u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03a0\u03bb\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c0\u1fb3\u03b4\u03bf\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b7 \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._; cf. Juv. vi. 450;\n      Mart. vii. 69.\n\n 1076 Plin. _Ep._ iv. 19, \u00a7 4.\n\n 1077 Plin. _Ep._ v. 16.\n\n 1078 Seneca and Paulina, Tac. _Ann._ xv. 64; Plutarch, _Ad Uxorem_, iv.\n      v.\n\n 1079 Plin. _Ep._ vi. 4, 5, 7.\n\n 1080 Id. _Ad Traj._ 121, 122.\n\n 1081 Cic. _De Off._ ii. 18 (63), atque haec benignitas etiam reipublicae\n      est utilis, redimi e servitute captos, locupletari tenuiores.\n\n 1082 Hor. _Sat._ ii. 2, 103\u2014\n\n        Cur eget indignus quisquam, te divite?\n\n 1083 Sen. _Ep._ 47, \u00a7 1, 31; _De Benef._ iii. 21; _De Clem._ i. 18, 3;\n      _De Ira_, iii. 24.\n\n 1084 Sen. _Ep._ 95, \u00a7 52.\n\n 1085 Sen. _Benef._ iv. 5; iv. 26; iv. 28, Di multa ingratis tribuunt.\n\n 1086 Juv. xiv. 16; vi. 219, 476.\n\n 1087 Id. xiv. 31.\n\n 1088 Id. xiii. 190.\n\n 1089 Juv. xv. 133.\n\n_ 1090 Or. Henz._ 6042.\n\n 1091 Cic. _De Off._ i. 14; Sym. _Ep._ ii. 78; ix. 126; Olympiod. \u00a7 44\n      (M\u00fcller, _Fr. H. Gr._ iv. p. 68); cf. Boeckh, _Public Ec. of Athens_\n      (Trans. Lewis), pp. 458, 520, 578.\n\n 1092 Marq. _Priv._ i. 178 n. 10; cf. Juv. ii. 117; Mart. vii. 64, dominae\n      munere factus eques; Tac. _Ann._ xiii. 34.\n\n 1093 Suet. _Vesp._ 18; Spart. _Hadr._ 16, \u00a7 8; Capitol. _Ant. P._ 11, \u00a7\n      3.\n\n 1094 D. Cass. 68. 2; Victor, _Epit._ 12.\n\n_ 1095 Or. Henz._ 6664; Plin. _Paneg._ 28, hi subsidium bellorum,\n      ornamentum pacis publicis sumptibus aluntur. Duruy, iv. 784;\n      Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ ii. 211; Kratz, _De Benef., a Traj. collatis_,\n      p. 11.\n\n 1096 Plin. _Ep._ x. 62. The letter reveals an unwillingness among the\n      people of Bithynia to become debtors to the public treasury.\n\n 1097 Cf. Tac. _Ann._ iv. 27, minore in dies plebe ingenua; iii. 25; cf.\n      Meriv. viii. 353.\n\n 1098 Spart. _Hadr._ 7.\n\n 1099 Capitol. _Ant. P._ 8.\n\n 1100 Id. _M. Aurel._ 26; cf. Capitol. _Pertin._ 9. He found the interest\n      on Trajan\u2019s foundation nine years in arrear. Lamprid. _Alex. Sev._\n      57, 7; his charity children were called Mammaeani; Kratz, p. 11.\n\n_ 1101 Or. Henz._ 6694 to a man who left Tibur his sole heir; 3733 ob\n      munificentiam; 3765, 3766, 3882, 7190, 6993, 7001, 781; cf.\n      Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ ii. 1 sqq. _\u1f04\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1 \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03bb\u03bf\u03cd\u03c4\u1ff3\n      \u1f10\u03c7\u03c1\u03ae\u03c3\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf_. Plin. _H. N._ xxix. 4 (8); Friedl\u00e4nder, _Cena Trim.\n      Einl._ 46 sq.\n\n 1102 Plin. _Ep._ i. 3, \u00a7 1, Comum meae deliciae; v. 11, 2; iv. 13,\n      respublica nostra pro filia vel parente.\n\n_ 1103 v._ the inscr. in Momms. _Plin._ p. 31.\n\n 1104 Plin. _Ep._ i. 8; v. 7; _Or._ 1172.\n\n 1105 Plin. _Ep._ iv. 13.\n\n_ 1106 Ib._ vii. 18; _Or._ 1172.\n\n 1107 Plin. _Ep._ iv. 1; cf. ix. 12.\n\n_ 1108 Ib._ vi. 32.\n\n_ 1109 Ib._ i. 19.\n\n_ 1110 Ib._ iii. 11.\n\n_ 1111 Ib._ ii. 4.\n\n_ 1112 Ib._ vi. 3.\n\n 1113 Friedl. _Cena Trim. Einleit._ p. 48.\n\n_ 1114 Or. Henz._ 114.\n\n 1115 Boissier, _Promenades Arch\u00e6ologiques_, p. 330, ce qui nous \u00e9chappe\n      c\u2019est la vie de province.\n\n 1116 Hor. _Carm._ iii. 4, 9.\n\n 1117 Mart. iv. 55, 11; xii. 18, 9; i. 50.\n\n 1118 It must, however, be said that Virgil has preserved much of local\n      religious sentiment. Cf. Sellar, _Virgil_, p. 365 sq.\n\n 1119 Virg. _Ecl._ ii. 48; _Georg._ ii. 466 sqq.; iii. 324-338, et saltus\n      reficit jam roscida luna; cf. Sellar, _Virgil_, pp. 166-167.\n\n_ 1120 Aen._ vii. 630 sqq.; Sellar, p. 80.\n\n 1121 Plin. _Ep._ i. 3; i. 6; i. 9; vii. 30; ix. 36. Mart. iii. 58; i. 56;\n      iv. 66; iv. 90; vi. 43.\n\n 1122 Hor. _Carm._ i. 17.\n\n 1123 Juv. iii.\n\n_ 1124 v._ _Rom. Society in the Last Century of the Western Empire_, p.\n      128 sq. (1st ed.); Sym. i. 101; ii. 26; v. 78. Cf. Auson. _Idyl._ x.\n      20, 155, 189.\n\n 1125 Mart. xii. 18\u2014\n\n          Dum per limina te potentiorum\n            Sudatrix toga ventilat, vagumque\n          Major Caelius, et minor fatigat.\n\n 1126 Ov. _Trist._ ii. 196; iii. 2, 21, Roma domusque subit, desideriumque\n      locorum; cf. Hor. _Sat._ ii. 7, 28.\n\n 1127 Mart. xii. _Praef._ illam judiciorum subtilitatem, illud materiarum\n      ingenium, bibliothecas, theatra, conventus, quasi destituti\n      desideramus.\n\n 1128 Juv. iii. 173 sqq.\n\n 1129 Illustrations may be found in Plaut. _Mil. Glor._ 653; _Captiv._\n      879; _Trinum._ 609; _Bacch._ 24; Cic. _Phil._ iii. 6, 15, videte\n      quam despiciamur omnes qui sumus e municipiis, id est, omnes plane;\n      Tac. _Ann._ iv. 3, seque ac majores et posteros municipali adultero\n      foedabat.\n\n 1130 Juv. x. 100; cf. Cic. _post Red. in Sen._ 17; Hor. _S._ i. 5, 34,\n      Insani ridentes praemia scribae, etc.\n\n_ 1131 Or._ xiv. (223), 391, (Jebb. i. p. 223), _\u03bc\u03af\u03b1 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03b1\u1f54\u03c4\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ad\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9 \u1f14\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2,\n      \u1f45\u03c0\u03c9\u03c2 \u1f14\u03c4\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03af\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f21\u03b4\u03af\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7 \u1f11\u03ba\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7 \u03c6\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03af\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u00b7 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03bc\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u1f70\n      \u03b3\u03c5\u03bc\u03bd\u03b1\u03c3\u03af\u03c9\u03bd, \u03ba\u03c1\u03b7\u03bd\u1ff6\u03bd, \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c0\u03c5\u03bb\u03b1\u03af\u03c9\u03bd, \u03bd\u03b5\u1ff6\u03bd, \u03b4\u03b7\u03bc\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03b3\u03af\u03c9\u03bd, \u03b4\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1\u03c3\u03ba\u03ac\u03bb\u03c9\u03bd._\n\n 1132 Aristid. _Or._ xiv. (225), 393-4, _\u1f21 \u03b3\u1fc6 \u03c0\u1fb6\u03c3\u03b1 \u03bf\u1f37\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03ac\u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03bf\u03c2\n      \u1f10\u03b3\u03ba\u03b7\u03ba\u03cc\u03c3\u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9._\n\n 1133 Aelian, _V. Hist._ ix. 16, _\u1fa4\u03ba\u03b7\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03cc\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u1f38\u03c4\u03b1\u03bb\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u03c0\u03ac\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f11\u03c0\u03c4\u1f70\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f10\u03bd\u03b7\u03bd\u03ae\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f11\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03c7\u03b9\u03bb\u03af\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2_; Jos. _B. J._ ii. 16.\n\n 1134 Arnold, _Rom. Prov. Administration_, p. 203.\n\n_ 1135 H. N._ iii. 4.\n\n 1136 Momms. _Rom. Prov._ i. 73.\n\n_ 1137 Ib._ p. 168; Tac. _Ann._ i. 36; Marq. _R\u00f6m. Staatsverw._ i. 121;\n      Bury, _Rom. Emp._ p. 83.\n\n_ 1138 C. Theod._ xiii. 3, 11.\n\n 1139 Marq. _R\u00f6m. St._ i. 125.\n\n 1140 Tac. _Hist._ i. 67; _v._ the dedication of a temple to Isis by a\n      magistrate of Baden and his wife and daughter; _Or._ 457.\n\n 1141 Marq. i. 155, in keiner andern Provinz l\u00e4sst sich die Entwickelung\n      der r\u00f6mischen St\u00e4dteanlagen so genau verfolgen als in Dacien.\n      Arnold, _R. Prov. Admin._ p. 205.\n\n_ 1142 Or. Henz._ 5287.\n\n_ 1143 Vit. Soph._ ii. 3.\n\n 1144 Arnold, p. 205; Marq. i. 199.\n\n 1145 Tac. _Ann._ iv. 55; Strab. xii. 578.\n\n_ 1146 H. N._ v. 60; Friedl. _SG._ iii. 110.\n\n 1147 Aristid. _Or._ xiv. 223 (392), _\u03c0\u03cc\u03bb\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f10\u03b3\u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03ce\u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03bc\u03b1 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u1f51\u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2\n      \u03b3\u03ad\u03b3\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03bd \u1f21\u03b3\u03b5\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03af\u03b1\u03c2_.\n\n 1148 Cf. Victor, _Vit._ i. 7; v. 9; Friedl. _SG._ iii. 110; _v._ Migne,\n      _Patrol. Lat._ t. lviii. 270, notitia Africae.\n\n_ 1149 C.I.L._ viii. 2355; Cagnat, _L\u2019Arm\u00e9e Rom. d\u2019Afrique_, p. 582;\n      Boissier, _L\u2019Afr. Rom._ p. 180.\n\n_ 1150 Or. Henz._ 5326.\n\n 1151 Boissier, _L\u2019Afr. Rom._ p. 187.\n\n_ 1152 C.I.L._ viii. 2388; Hieron. _Ep._ 107, \u00a7 1; Macrob. _Sat._ i, 2,\n      15.\n\n_ 1153 C.I.L._ viii. 2403; _Suppl._ ii. 17903; _Suppl._ i. 12058. This\n      inscription, from an obscure place, shows how an original honorarium\n      of HS. 1600 was finally increased by voluntary generosity to HS.\n      12,000.\n\n_ 1154 Ib._ 2341, 17838.\n\n_ 1155 C.I.L._ viii.; _Suppl._ ii. 17831.\n\n 1156 Marq. _R\u00f6m. St._ i. 45; Bury, _Rom. Emp._ p. 77; Arnold, _Rom. Prov.\n      Admin._ p. 210.\n\n_ 1157 Or. Henz._ 3720, 3800, 3801, 3056, 3057, 3804.\n\n 1158 Tac. _Ann._ i. 15; Momms. _R\u00f6m. St._ ii. 1002; Duruy, v. pp.\n      336-346; Gr\u00e9ard, _Plut._ 221, 237; Plut. _Reip. Ger. Pr._ c. 17, 19.\n      The first curatores civitatum are heard of in the reigns of Nerva\n      and Trajan; cf. Marq. i. 510, n. 10.\n\n 1159 Suet. _Tib._ 32; Tac. _Ann._ iv. 6; Suet. _Nero_, x.; _Otho_, iii.\n      provinciam administravit moderatione singulari; _Vitell._ v.\n      Vespasian had to increase burdens, Suet. xvi.; Tac. _Hist._ ii. 84;\n      as to Trajan, cf. Plin. _Paneg._ 20; Suet. _Dom._ 8. Nero, it is\n      true, is said to have encouraged plunder (Suet. _Nero_, 32; Plin.\n      _H. N._ 18, 6). Yet the general prosperity was undisturbed,\n      Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._ 170; Arnold, _Rom. Prov. Admin._ 135; Gr\u00e9ard,\n      _Plut._ 199.\n\n 1160 See a crowd of inscriptions to Domitian and Commodus in remote\n      places in Africa; cf. _C.I.L._ viii. 1016, 1019; 10570, 8702, in\n      which Commodus is described as indulgentissimus princeps, etc.\n\n 1161 Marq. _R\u00f6m. St._ i. 517 sq.; Arnold, p. 212.\n\n_ 1162 Henz._ iii. _Ind._ p. 156; Inscr. 2322, 6980, 4983; Marq. _R\u00f6m.\n      St._ i. 477. There were consuls at Tusculum and Beneventum. But the\n      grand style was ridiculed by Cicero, _In Pis._ xi. 24.\n\n 1163 Tac. _Ann._ xiii. 31; xvi. 22, diurna per provincias, per exercitus\n      curatius leguntur. Peter, _Gesch. Litt._ i. 212; Mac\u00e9, _Su\u00e9tone_, p.\n      191; Marq. _Priv._ i. 88; cf. _C.I.L._ viii. 11813; Lamprid. _Com._\n      15.\n\n 1164 Plin. _Ep._ ix. 11, 2; Mart. vii. 88.\n\n 1165 Sen. _Ep._ 28, 104; Luc. _Tox._ 27; _De Dips._ 6; _Philops._ 33;\n      _Alex._ 44; Epict. _Dis._ iii. 13.\n\n 1166 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iii. 50, vi.; D. Chrys. _Or._ 36.\n\n 1167 Hudemann, _Gesch. des r\u00f6m. Postwesens_, p. 8 sq.; Marq. _R\u00f6m. St._\n      i. 417; Friedl. _SG._ ii. 8.\n\n_ 1168 Or. Henz._ 4093, 2413, 5163, 6983.\n\n 1169 Suet. _Jul. Caes._ 57.\n\n 1170 Plut. _Galba_, 7.\n\n 1171 Mart. x. 104; cf. Hor. _S._ i. 5, 104.\n\n 1172 Friedl. _SG._ ii. 12 sqq.\n\n 1173 Aristid. _Or._ xxiv. 537; cf. Hor. _S._ i. 6, 105.\n\n 1174 Sen. _Ep._ 123, \u00a7 7.\n\n 1175 Cf. Suet. _Nero_, xliv. xxx.; Sen. _Ep._ 87, \u00a7 9; 123.\n\n 1176 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 5, 15; cf. Suet. _Claud._ xxxiii.; Friedl. _SG._\n      ii. 19.\n\n 1177 Apul. _Met._ i. 7; i. 17; Sidon. Apoll. _Ep._ viii. 11. Cf. _Rom.\n      Soc. in the Last Century of the Western Empire_, p. 172 (1st ed.);\n      Friedl. ii. 20.\n\n 1178 Marq. _R\u00f6m. St._ i. 17, 199, 214, 317; Arnold, _Prov. Adm._ 203.\n\n 1179 Arn. 205, 208; Marq. i. 114, 118.\n\n 1180 Marq. i. 14.\n\n 1181 Id. i. 155.\n\n 1182 Boissier, _L\u2019Afr. Rom._ p. 104.\n\n 1183 See the history of this legion in Cagnat, _L\u2019Arm\u00e9e Rom. d\u2019Afrique_,\n      p. 148 sqq. _C.I.L._ viii., Momms. _Praef._ xix. sq. The legion was\n      first stationed at Thevesta.\n\n_ 1184 Or. Henz._ 5319; _C.I.L._ viii. 2532, 10048; _v._ Mommsen, p. 21.\n      For the date of this visit, _v._ Cagnat, p. 154. _Vit. Hadr._ 12,\n      13.\n\n 1185 Herodian, iii. 8; cf. Cagnat, p. 451.\n\n_ 1186 C.I.L._ viii. 2611; _Or. Henz._ 7408.\n\n 1187 Cagnat, 365, 453; cf. _C.I.L._ viii. 3015.\n\n 1188 Cagnat, 481-87; Marq. ii. 544.\n\n 1189 Marq. _R\u00f6m. St._ i. 499; Friedl. _Cena Trim. Einl._ 29; Plin. _Ep._\n      i. 19; Boissier, _L\u2019Afr. Rom._ p. 195.\n\n_ 1190 Or. Henz._ 3721; Friedl. _Cena Trim. Einl._ 30.\n\n_ 1191 Or. Henz._ 6989, 7001, 7199, ob duplam sportulam collatum sibi,\n      4020, 3703.\n\n 1192 Hartmann, _De Exilio_, pp. 58 sq.; Duruy, _Hist. Rom._ vi. 643.\n\n_ 1193 Or. Henz._ 946, 3708.\n\n_ 1194 Ib._ 7192.\n\n_ 1195 Or. Henz._ 3703, 3706, 4009, 3937, 3704, 3725, 4020; Plin. _Ep._ x.\n      111; cf. Ohnesseit, _De Jure Municip._ 41.\n\n 1196 Marq. _R\u00f6m. St._ i. 472.\n\n_ 1197 Or. __Henz._ 7421; _Lex Mal._ \u00a7\u00a7 53, 55.\n\n 1198 Mau, 376, 388-89 (Tr.).\n\n 1199 Claudium iivir. animula facit, _C.I.L._ iv. 425, 677, 644.\n\n 1200 Petron. _Sat._ 45, ferrum optimum daturus est, sine fuga, carnarium\n      in medio, etc.\n\n 1201 The title of the highest magistracy varied a good deal: cf. Marq.\n      _R\u00f6m. St._ i. 475, 89, _Or. Henz._ iii. _Ind._ 154.\n\n 1202 Marq. i. 485; _Henz. Ind._ p. 157. Often described as iivir\n      quinquennalis, or iivir censoria potestate quinq. etc., or shortly\n      quinquennalis; cf. _Or. Henz._ 3882, 3721.\n\n 1203 Arnold, _Prov. Adm._ pp. 225, 226.\n\n_ 1204 Or. Henz._ 643.\n\n_ 1205 Lex Malag._ \u00a7 51; _Or._ 7421; Marq. i. 475; _C. Th._ xii. 5, 1.\n\n_ 1206 C.I.L._ viii. 2341, 17838.\n\n 1207 Marq. i. 499 n. 13.\n\n_ 1208 Or. Henz._ 7080, 7082, 3811, 3817, 3882.\n\n_ 1209 Ib._ 3817; cf. Spart. _Hadr._ c. 19.\n\n_ 1210 Lex Urson._ \u00a7 103.\n\n 1211 Friedl. _Cena Trim. Einl._ 28; Duruy, v. 349 sqq.\n\n_ 1212 Lex Malag._ \u00a7 60 sq.\n\n 1213 See _Roman Society in the Last Century of the Western Empire_, bk.\n      iii. c. 2.\n\n 1214 There is one case in _Or. Henz._ 2279.\n\n_ 1215 v._ _Or. Henz._ vol. iii. _Ind._ p. 152.\n\n 1216 Plin. _Ep._ i. 19; at Como the census was HS.100,000; cf. Petron.\n      _Sat._ 44.\n\n 1217 The Curia is sometimes designated as Cviri, _Or. Henz._ 764, 3737,\n      1552. Or., however, interprets CV. as Civium universorum in 764.\n\n 1218 Ohnesseit, _De Jure Municip._ p. 55; Marq. _R\u00f6m. St._ i. 504.\n\n 1219 Plin. _Ep._ iv. 13, 9.\n\n_ 1220 e.g._ _Or. Henz._ 3703, 7190.\n\n 1221 Friedl. _Cena Trim. Einl._ 31.\n\n 1222 Plin. _Ep._ iv. 22. This autocratic act was the abolition of the\n      games at Vienne by a duumvir.\n\n_ 1223 Lex Urson._ \u00a7 129.\n\n_ 1224 Ib._ \u00a7 99; Ohnesseit, _De Jure Municip._ p. 51.\n\n_ 1225 Ib._ p. 53; _Lex Urson._ \u00a7\u00a7 96, 97, 130.\n\n 1226 Mart. iii. 29; v. 14; v. 23; Juv. i. 28; iii. 131, 159.\n\n_ 1227 Or. Henz._ 7002, 7018, 3785, 3789, 3798, 3733, 3747.\n\n_ 1228 Ib._ 2287, 3714, 3851.\n\n 1229 Pers. iii. 77; Juv. xvi.\n\n 1230 In the Inscr. they are mentioned after the decurions and before the\n      plebs; cf. _Or. Henz._ 4009, 3807, 1167. On the distinction between\n      the Augustales and the Seviri Aug. _v._ Marq. _R\u00f6m. St._ i. 514;\n      Ohnesseit, _De Jure Munic._ 46; Nessling, _De Seviris Aug._ Marq.\n      says, scheinen die Augustales als lebensl\u00e4ngliche Mitglieder des\n      Collegiums, die Seviri als j\u00e4hrlich wechselnde Beamte desselben zu\n      betrachten zu sein.\n\n 1231 Marq. i. 513; Ohnesseit, p. 46; cf. _Or. Henz._ 3959, 7089; Tac.\n      _Ann._ i. 54, 73.\n\n 1232 Petron. 65, 71.\n\n_ 1233 Or._ 2983; _C.I.L._ v. 4482.\n\n_ 1234 Or. Henz._ 3917, 3924, 1561, 7092, 4077, 3127, 4020, 5655, 2374.\n\n 1235 Friedl. _Cena Trim. Einl._ 37.\n\n_ 1236 Or. Henz._ 3787-8; 7103.\n\n 1237 Petron. _Sat._ 65.\n\n_ 1238 Or. Henz._ 6983.\n\n_ 1239 Ib._ 4044, 7094.\n\n_ 1240 Ib._ 7112.\n\n_ 1241 C.I.L._ ix. 58.\n\n 1242 Friedl. _Cena Trim. Einl._ 42.\n\n 1243 Plin. _Ep._ viii. 8, 6.\n\n 1244 Friedl. _Cena Trim. Einl._ 43.\n\n 1245 Tac. _Ann._ xii. 58.\n\n 1246 Sueton. _Vesp._ 13; Tac. _Ann._ ii. 47; cf. Nipperdey\u2019s note\n      referring to the monument erected to Tiberius in A.D. 30, at\n      Puteoli.\n\n 1247 Petron. 44.\n\n 1248 Suet. _Vesp._ xviii. Latinis Graecisque rhetoribus annua centena\n      constituit.\n\n 1249 Plin. _Ep._ iv. 13.\n\n 1250 Herodot. iii. 131.\n\n 1251 Strab. iv. c. i. 5 (181), _\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u1f70\u03c2 \u03b3\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd \u1f51\u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03ad\u03c7\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 ... \u03ba\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd\u1fc4\n      \u03bc\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03bf\u03cd\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03ac\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f30\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03cd\u03c2_.\n\n 1252 Marq. _Priv._ ii. 777.\n\n_ 1253 Or. Henz._ 3994, 4017.\n\n_ 1254 Or. Henz._ 3716, 6709, 7146.\n\n 1255 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ iii. 116; _C.I.L._ ii. pp. 89-96.\n\n 1256 Plin. _Ad Traj._ 17.\n\n_ 1257 Ib._ 54, 55, 23.\n\n_ 1258 Ib._ 47.\n\n_ 1259 Ib._ 17.\n\n_ 1260 Ib._ 39.\n\n_ 1261 Ib._ 37.\n\n 1262 Plin. _Ad Traj._ 38.\n\n_ 1263 Ib._ 33.\n\n_ 1264 Ib._ 110; cf. Marq. _R\u00f6m. St._ i. 522.\n\n 1265 Plin. _Ad Traj._ 112, 114, 116.\n\n_ 1266 Ib._ 79.\n\n_ 1267 Ib._ 116.\n\n_ 1268 Or. Henz._ 7001; Friedl. _Cena Trim. Einl._ 53; corruption,\n      however, by means of hospitality is expressly forbidden by the _Lex\n      Urson._ \u00a7 132; _C.I.L._ ii. _Suppl._ p. 852.\n\n 1269 Plin. _Ad Traj._ 96.\n\n 1270 Friedl. _Cena Trim. Einl._ 33; Gr\u00e9ard, _Plut._ pp. 246-7.\n\n 1271 The different classes of Curatores, which must be carefully\n      distinguished, are clearly given by Arnold, _Prov. Admin._ 236. Cf.\n      _Or. Henz._ 3899, 3902, 3989. For a good example of the function of\n      the Curator, cf. _Or._ 3787.\n\n 1272 For the sources of these, cf. Marq. _R\u00f6m. St._ ii. p. 96.\n\n 1273 Mau, _Pompeii_ (Eng. Tr.), p. 16.\n\n 1274 Mau, _Pompeii_ (Eng. Tr.), p. 15.\n\n 1275 Petron. _Sat._ 38.\n\n 1276 Mau, p. 143.\n\n 1277 Id. p. 111.\n\n 1278 Mau, p. 124.\n\n 1279 Id. pp. 147, 206.\n\n 1280 Id. p. 164.\n\n_ 1281 Or. Henz._ 7008, 7010.\n\n 1282 Duruy, v. 396.\n\n_ 1283 Or._ 781.\n\n 1284 Plin. _H. N._ xxix. 5.\n\n 1285 Duruy, v. 396.\n\n 1286 Plin. _l.c._\n\n 1287 D. Chrys. _Or._ 46 (519).\n\n 1288 Tac. _Hist._ iii. 34, reposita fora templaque munificentia\n      municipum.\n\n 1289 Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ ii. 1; Friedl. _Sittengesch._ ii. p. 120.\n\n 1290 Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ ii. 5.\n\n_ 1291 Ib._ ii. 6.\n\n 1292 Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ ii. 3.\n\n_ 1293 C. Theod._ ix. 17, 5; _Nov. Valent._ 5.\n\n_ 1294 Or. Henz._ 6993, 7013, 7190, 6622, 2287, 6985, 3325.\n\n_ 1295 Ib._ 6994.\n\n_ 1296 Ib._ 6983.\n\n_ 1297 Or. Henz._ 7013.\n\n_ 1298 C.I.L._ viii. 5366; she received the honour of five statues in\n      return.\n\n_ 1299 Or. Henz._ 2287.\n\n_ 1300 Ib._ 3325.\n\n_ 1301 Ib._ 3772.\n\n 1302 Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._ p. 44.\n\n 1303 See _Rom. Soc. in the Last Century of the Western Empire_ (1st ed.),\n      p. 202.\n\n 1304 Suet. _Nero_, xvi.\n\n 1305 Suet. _Vesp._ ix.; D. Cass. lxvi. 10.\n\n 1306 Suet. _Tit._ vii. nemine ante se munificentia minor.\n\n 1307 Suet. _Domit._ v.\n\n 1308 Plin. _Paneg._ 51.\n\n 1309 D. Cass. lxviii. 7, 15; Plin. _Paneg._ 29, 51.\n\n 1310 Ael. Spart. _Hadr._ c. 29.\n\n_ 1311 Ib._ c. 19, \u00a7 10, eaque omnia propriis auctorum nominibus\n      consecravit.\n\n 1312 On the sportula at this time, cf. Suet. _Nero_, xvi., _Dom._ vii.;\n      Marq. _Pr._ i., 207 sq.; Momms. _De Coll._ p. 109.\n\n 1313 Plut. _Caes._ 55, _\u1f11\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03ac\u03c3\u03b1\u03c2 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd \u03b4\u03b9\u03c3\u03bc\u03c5\u03c1\u03af\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03b9\u03c3\u03c7\u03b9\u03bb\u03af\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2\n      \u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03ba\u03bb\u03af\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f41\u03bc\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c3\u03cd\u03bc\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2_: D. Cass. 43, 21, 3.\n\n 1314 Plin. _Ep._ i. 3, triclinia illa popularia.\n\n 1315 Petron. 71.\n\n_ 1316 Or. Henz._ 7115, 1368, 4088, 4115.\n\n_ 1317 Ib._ 3882.\n\n_ 1318 Or. Henz._ 3868.\n\n_ 1319 Ib._ 6211.\n\n 1320 Marq. _Priv._ i. 210; Petron. 45; _Or._ 842; Momms. _Colleg._ p.\n      110.\n\n_ 1321 Or. Henz._ 3394; cf. Suet. _Calig._ 18.\n\n_ 1322 Or. Henz._ 3738.\n\n_ 1323 C.I.L._ x. 5853; Friedl. _Cena Trim._ p. 55.\n\n_ 1324 Lex Urson._ \u00a7 132.\n\n 1325 Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ ii. 1.\n\n 1326 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ ii. 142; cf. Jul. Capitol. _M. Ant._ c. x.\n\n 1327 Suet. _Tit._ vii.\n\n 1328 D. Cass. 68. 15, _\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b8\u03ad\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bd \u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b5\u1f34\u03ba\u03bf\u03c3\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f11\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u1f21\u03bc\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2\n      \u1f10\u03c0\u03bf\u03af\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5\u03bd ... \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03ac\u03c7\u03bf\u03b9 \u03bc\u03cd\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9 \u1f20\u03b3\u03c9\u03bd\u03af\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf_.\n\n 1329 Salv. _De Gub. Dei_, vi. \u00a7 69.\n\n 1330 Aug. _Conf._ vi. 8; cf. Sym. _Ep._ ii. 46.\n\n 1331 Tac. _Ann._ i. 76, _vili_ sanguine nimis gaudens.\n\n 1332 Suet. _Calig._ xxxv.\n\n 1333 Calpurn. _Ecl._ vii. 24 sqq.\n\n        Vidimus in caelum trabibus spectacula textis\n        Surgere, Tarpeium prope despectantia culmen\u2014\n        ... Sic undique fulgor\n        Percussit: stabam defixus et ore patenti,\n        Cunctaque mirabar, etc.\n\n 1334 Sen. _De Brev. Vit._ viii.; _Ep._ 95, \u00a7 33; Plut. _Reipubl. Ger.\n      Pr._ c. 29; Luc. _Dem._ c. 57.\n\n 1335 Plin. _Ep._ iv. 22.\n\n 1336 Suet. _Nero_, iv.\n\n 1337 D. Cass. 66. 15; cf. M. Aur. vi. 46.\n\n 1338 D. Cass. 68. 10 and 15, 66. 25; Suet. _Nero_, xi.; Suet. _Dom._ iv.\n\n 1339 D. Cass. 67. 1; cf. Friedl. ii. 202.\n\n 1340 Plin. _Ep._ vi. 34; _Paneg._ 33.\n\n 1341 Petron. 45.\n\n 1342 Strabo, v. c. 4, 13.\n\n 1343 Mau, 206, 207.\n\n 1344 Tac. _Ann._ xiv. 17.\n\n 1345 Mau, 152.\n\n 1346 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ ii. 206.\n\n 1347 Mau, 216, 217. The words in one of these, flaminis Neronis Caesaris\n      Aug. fili, fix the date between 50 and 54 A.D.\n\n 1348 Mau, 217, 218.\n\n_ 1349 Ib._ 411.\n\n_ 1350 Ib._ 220; Juv. vi. 82 sqq.; cf. Mart. v. 24.\n\n 1351 Friedl. ii. 189.\n\n_ 1352 Ib._ ii. 92.\n\n 1353 Tac. _Ann._ iv. 62.\n\n_ 1354 Or. Henz._ 2532.\n\n_ 1355 Ib._ 2530.\n\n_ 1356 Ib._ 6148; _C.I.L._ x. 1074, 6012. This was given _postulante\n      populo_.\n\n_ 1357 Or. Henz._ 5963, 5972, 2531; _C.I.L._ x. 228.\n\n 1358 Tac. _Hist._ ii. 70-72.\n\n_ 1359 Ib._ iii. 84.\n\n_ 1360 Or. Henz._ 3725, 6156; Strab. xvii. 1, 10; Friedl. ii. 204, 378\n      sqq.\n\n 1361 Apul. _Met._ x. 18; cf. iv. 13.\n\n 1362 Plut. _Reipubl. Ger. Pr._ 30; Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iv. 21.\n\n 1363 Luc. _Dem._ 57; cf. Mahaffy, _Greek World under Roman Sway_, p. 271.\n\n_ 1364 Or. Henz._ 2373, 7037, 148, 2532.\n\n 1365 Mart. iii. 59, 16.\n\n_ 1366 Or. Henz._ 81.\n\n 1367 Petron. 45.\n\n 1368 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ ii. 137, Doch diese Summe erscheint gering im\n      Vergleich mit der kolossalen Verschwendung, mit der die Schauspiele\n      in der letzten Zeit der Republik gegeben wurden; cf. _C.I.L._ ii.\n      6278 (_Suppl._ p. 1032).\n\n_ 1369 Or. Henz._ 2530; 2533; Friedl. _Cena Trim._ p. 58; Cic. _Ad Att._\n      12, 2.\n\n 1370 Suet. _Tib._ vii.\n\n 1371 Petron. 45.\n\n 1372 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ ii. 202; Suet. _Vitell._ xii. circumforaneo\n      lanistae vendidit.\n\n 1373 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ ii. 192.\n\n 1374 Petron. 45; D. Cass. 60. 30.\n\n 1375 D. Cass. 74. 2.\n\n 1376 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ ii. 196.\n\n 1377 D. Cass. 66. 15; Spart. _Hadr._ 14; cf. Suet. _Calig._ xxxiv.\n\n 1378 Lamprid. _Com._ xi.; cf. viii.; Friedl. _Sittengesch._ ii. 150.\n\n 1379 Suet. _Jul. Caes._ xxxix.; Juv. vi. 252.\n\n 1380 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ ii. 198.\n\n_ 1381 Or. Henz._ 2571, 2572; _C.I.L._ x. 7364; xii. 5836.\n\n 1382 Mau, _Pompeii_, p. 219 sq.\n\n 1383 Sen. _Ep._ 70, \u00a7 20; Tac. _Ann._ xv. 46. Sym. _Ep._ ii. 46; cf.\n      Friedl. _Sittengesch._ ii. 211.\n\n 1384 Sen. _De Prov._ iv.\n\n 1385 Epict. _Diss._ i. 29, \u00a7 37.\n\n 1386 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ ii. 204.\n\n_ 1387 Or. Henz._ 2566.\n\n_ 1388 Ib._ 2571.\n\n_ 1389 Or. Henz._ 2572-9; _C.I.L._ xii. 3329.\n\n_ 1390 Or. Henz._ 2573-5; D. Cass. 72. 22.\n\n 1391 Juv. iii. 158.\n\n_ 1392 C.I.L._ x. 1074.\n\n_ 1393 Or. Henz._ 3721.\n\n_ 1394 Ib._ 7008, 7010; cf. 7082, where a youth of twenty had been iivir\n      quinquennalis, and had given a gladiatorial show. Cf. 3714, quaestor\n      designatus est annorum xxiiii., 3745, 3246, 3768.\n\n_ 1395 Ib._ 3764.\n\n_ 1396 Ib._ 3773, 4036, 82, 5134; cf. 3744.\n\n_ 1397 Or. Henz._ 3709, 3750; _C.I.L._ xii. 3203, 3219.\n\n 1398 Plut. _Reipubl. Ger. Pr._ c. 27.\n\n_ 1399 Or. Henz._ 6992.\n\n_ 1400 Ib._ 3811, 3722, 6999, 7007, 7004 (honore usus inpensam remisit),\n      7011, 7190, 4100.\n\n_ 1401 Ib._ 3865, ex aere collato; 6996.\n\n 1402 This seems clear from Plut. _Reip. Ger. Pr._ c. 31, _\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bc\u1f74\n      \u03b4\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03b6\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03bf\u1f30\u03ba\u03c4\u03c1\u1f78\u03bd \u1f05\u03bc\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03b3\u03ad\u03bb\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u1f36\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f70\u03c2\n      \u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03b3\u03af\u03b1\u03c2_.\n\n 1403 Plut. _Reip. Ger. Pr._ c. 18; cf. c. 10.\n\n 1404 Plin. _Ep._ x. 113; 79.\n\n 1405 Plut. _Reip. Ger. Pr._ c. 18.\n\n 1406 Philostr. _Apoll. T._ iv. 5.\n\n 1407 Plut. _Reip. Ger. Pr._ c. 32; cf. Gr\u00e9ard, _Morale de Plut._ p. 230.\n\n 1408 Philostr. _Apoll. T._ v. 41, 10; cf. Gr\u00e9ard, p. 227.\n\n 1409 Plut. _Reip. Ger. Pr._ c. 15.\n\n_ 1410 Ib._ c. 27, 29, 30, 20.\n\n_ 1411 Or. Henz._ 4007 (Canusium), 2391 (Praeneste), 4491 (Pisa), 3898\n      (Bergamum), 3787 (Caere). For places out of Italy, cf. _C.I.L._ xii.\n      3212 (datus a Trajano); viii. 2403, 2660 (Timgad and Lambesi); iii.\n      3485 (Aquincum); ii. 484 (Emerita); 4112 (Tarraco); cf. x.; ii. p.\n      1158; Capitol. _M. Ant._ c. 11.\n\n_ 1412 Or. Henz._ 3787, placuit tibi scribi an in hoc quoque et tu\n      consensurus esses.\n\n 1413 A.D. 113, as the names of the consuls show.\n\n 1414 See _Roman Society in the Last Century of the Western Empire_, p.\n      208 sqq. (1st ed.).\n\n 1415 M. Aurel. vi. 46; vii. 3; ix. 30.\n\n_ 1416 Or. Henz. Ind._ 151; _C.I.L._ xii. p. 940; _Or. Henz._ 3763, 7170\n      (consensus plebis); _C.I.L._ xii. 3185 (ex postulatione populi); x.\n      5067, 1030, 8215, 3704.\n\n 1417 Tac. _Ann._ xiii. 48; Hi (_i.e._ plebs) magistratuum et primi\n      cujusque avaritiam increpantes.\n\n_ 1418 C.I.L._ iv. 202, 710, 787.\n\n 1419 Marq. _Priv._ i. 159, 160; Duruy, _Hist. des Rom._ v. 631; Athen.\n      vi. 272 D.\n\n 1420 Suet. _Octav._ 40; D. Cass. 55. 13.\n\n_ 1421 Or. Henz._ iii. _Ind._ p. 180.\n\n_ 1422 Or. Henz._ 4148, 4143, 4268, 4154. For the provinces of _C.I.L._\n      ii. Suppl. p. 1171; viii. p. 1102; x. 1163; xii. p. 943.\n\n_ 1423 Or. Henz._, 4148, Marcia margaritaria de Via Sacra legavit ...\n      libertis libertabusque suis....\n\n 1424 Juv. i. 24; x. 224; Mart. iii. 16, 59.\n\n 1425 Duruy, v. 637.\n\n 1426 S. Hieron. _Ep._ 108, \u00a7 3.\n\n_ 1427 Roman Society in the Last Century of the Western Empire_ (1st.\n      ed.), p. 193.\n\n 1428 Momms. _De Coll._ (Morel) p. 28 sq.; Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ ii. 278;\n      Plut. _Numa_, c. 17, _\u1f26\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u1f74 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u1f70 \u03c4\u1f70\u03c2 \u03c4\u03ad\u03c7\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b1\u1f50\u03bb\u03b7\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd,\n      \u03c7\u03c1\u03c5\u03c3\u03bf\u03c7\u03cc\u03c9\u03bd, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 1429 Momms. _De Coll._ p. 76.\n\n 1430 Suet. _Caes._ 42; _Octav._ 32.\n\n 1431 Momms. _De Coll._ p. 84.\n\n 1432 Plin. _Ep._ x. 34.\n\n 1433 Tac. _Ann._ xiv. 17, re ad patres relata ... collegia quae contra\n      leges instituerant dissoluta.\n\n 1434 Vop. _Aurel._ c. 38.\n\n_ 1435 Or. Henz._ 6086; cf. Momms. _De Coll._ p. 98; Boissier, _Rel. Rom._\n      ii. 313; Duruy, v. 408.\n\n 1436 Momms. _De Coll._ p. 87.\n\n 1437 Lamprid. _Alex. Sev._ c. 33; cf. Duruy, v. 408.\n\n_ 1438 Or. Henz._ 4841, Elysiis campis floreat umbra tibi; but cf. 4793,\n      manus levo contra deum qui me innocentem sustulit; 4796, Dii irati\n      aeterno somno dederunt.\n\n_ 1439 Ib._ 4662, Qutia Silvana Uxor virum expecto meum.\n\n_ 1440 Ib._ 2677, 2655, 4626, 4639, 4848, Domum servavit, lanam fecit.\n      Dixi, abei.\n\n_ 1441 Ib._ 4775.\n\n_ 1442 Ib._ 2669, 4653, 2413, 2414.\n\n_ 1443 Or. Henz._ 2815, 2817, 4687, 4777, 4653.\n\n_ 1444 Ib._ 4852, effugi crimen longa senecta tuum.\n\n_ 1445 Ib._ 4816, balnea, vina, Venus corrumpunt corpora nostra, sed vitam\n      faciunt. Vixi; quod comedi et ebibi tantum meum est. Non fui, fui;\n      non sum, non curo; 4807, 7407, 7387.\n\n_ 1446 Ib._ 4795, 7406.\n\n_ 1447 Ib._ 4836.\n\n_ 1448 Ib._ 4416.\n\n_ 1449 Ib._ 4417.\n\n_ 1450 Ib._ 4781, 4783, 4.\n\n_ 1451 Or. Henz._ 4386, 4357, 4360, 4362, 4388, 4396, 4423, 4425, 4427.\n\n_ 1452 Ib._ 6086. Ex S.C.P.R. quibus coire convenire collegiumque habere\n      liceat qui stipem menstruam conferre volent in funera, in id\n      collegium coeant neque sub specie ejus collegii nisi semel in mense\n      coeant, etc.\n\n 1453 Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ ii. 313.\n\n 1454 Momms. _De Coll._ p. 87.\n\n_ 1455 Or. Henz._ 2399, 2400.\n\n_ 1456 Ib._ 4079.\n\n_ 1457 Ib._ 4093.\n\n_ 1458 Ib._ 4073, Loc. sep. convictor. qui una epulo vesci solent.\n\n_ 1459 Ib._ 6086; Momms. _De Coll._ p. 98; Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ ii. p.\n      309 sqq.; Duruy, v. 412.\n\n_ 1460 Or. Henz._ 6086; Col. ii., placuit ut quisquis servus ex hoc\n      collegio liber factus fuerit, etc.\n\n 1461 Momms. _De Coll._ p. 99; Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ ii. p. 309.\n\n 1462 Momms. _De Coll._ p. 104.\n\n_ 1463 Or. Henz._ 2417; Junio Rufino Cos. _i.e._ A.D. 153; Momms. p. 73.\n\n 1464 Momms. _De Coll._ p. 93.\n\n 1465 They have their ordo, plebs, decuriones, quinquennales, curatores,\n      honorati, patroni, quaestores, etc.; _v._ _Henz. Ind._ p. 176 sqq.\n\n 1466 Herodot. v. 66.\n\n 1467 Tac. _Hist._ iii. 32, tempus quoque mercatus ditem alioqui coloniam\n      majore opum specie complebat.\n\n 1468 Friedl. _Cena Trim. Einl._ p. 63.\n\n 1469 Apul. _Met._ i. 5.\n\n 1470 Momms. _Rom. Prov._ i. 74.\n\n_ 1471 Or. Henz._ 178; Tac. _Hist._ iv. 5.\n\n_ 1472 C.I.L._ ii. 2423.\n\n_ 1473 Ib._ iii. 1500.\n\n_ 1474 Ib._ x. 1634, 1579.\n\n_ 1475 Ib._ iii. 365, 444, 455, 6051.\n\n 1476 Suet. _Claud._ xviii.; cf. Merivale, vi. 126 sq.\n\n 1477 Juv. xiv. 276.\n\n 1478 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iv. 34.\n\n_ 1479 Or. Henz._ 6111, 6835.\n\n_ 1480 Ib._ 4109.\n\n_ 1481 Ib._ 6414, 2211, 4095, 4100, 4096; _C.I.L._ x. 5928, 1493; iii.\n      4045, 5678.\n\n_ 1482 Or. Henz._ 2401.\n\n_ 1483 C.I.L._ iv. 575, 581.\n\n_ 1484 Or. Henz._ 4063, 4072, 4087, 7007.\n\n_ 1485 Or. Henz._ 4243, 7205, 6950.\n\n_ 1486 Ib._ 7007, 7254, 4110, 6950.\n\n_ 1487 Ib._ 3655, 6029, 3178.\n\n_ 1488 Ib._ 4093, 7206.\n\n_ 1489 Ib._ 4105, 2619, 4113, 4112, 2625.\n\n 1490 Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ ii. p. 286.\n\n_ 1491 Dig._ L. 7.\n\n 1492 Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ ii. 287.\n\n_ 1493 Or. Henz._ 6302.\n\n_ 1494 Ib._\n\n_ 1495 C.I.L._ iii. 2, 6150.\n\n_ 1496 Ib._ ii. 6004.\n\n_ 1497 Or. Henz._ 2863, Hilara viva rogavit ut ossa sua in olla Midaes\n      coicerentur cum mort. esset.\n\n_ 1498 C.I.L._ iii. 6077, _v._ note.\n\n_ 1499 Or. Henz._ 2386, 4938, 4123.\n\n 1500 Such as that in _Or. Henz._ 6086.\n\n_ 1501 Or. Henz._ 6010, Colleg. Capitolinorum, etc.; cf. Cic. _Ad Quint.\n      Fratr._ ii. 5.\n\n 1502 Rutil. Namat. i. 63.\n\n_ 1503 Or. Henz. Ind._ p. 154 sqq.\n\n_ 1504 Ib._ 4068, 4107.\n\n_ 1505 Ib._ 6127, 7181, 7182, 3217, 4138 (_v._ Orelli\u2019s note to this\n      Inscription), 4071; _C.I.L._ x. p. 1163; iii. (2) p. 1180.\n\n_ 1506 Or. Henz._ 2863, 7183, 5372.\n\n_ 1507 Or._ 2417, ut ne plures adlegantur quam numerus s. s. etc.;\n      _C.I.L._ ii. 1167, collegio hominum centum dumtaxet constituto. Cf.\n      Plin. x. 33, where the coll. fabrorum is to be limited to 150.\n\n 1508 Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ ii. 295.\n\n_ 1509 Or. Henz._ 4055.\n\n_ 1510 Ib._ 4054, 2417, 4056.\n\n 1511 The ranks are mingled, however, in _Or._ 2394; _C.I.L._ iii. 633.\n\n 1512 D. Cass. 60. 6, _\u03c4\u03ac \u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c0\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u1fd6\u03b1 \u1f10\u03c2 \u1f03 \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b9\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f14\u03c0\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ad\u03bb\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5,\n      \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 1513 Or. Henz._ 4088, 3298, 2279, 3787, 4085.\n\n_ 1514 Ib._ 2417, solarium tectum junctum in quo populus collegi s. s.\n      epuletur.\n\n_ 1515 Ib._ 4070.\n\n_ 1516 Or. Henz._ 65, 900, 4088; cf. 4107, 4366.\n\n_ 1517 Ib._ 2416, 4057.\n\n_ 1518 Ib._ 4068.\n\n_ 1519 Ib._ 2502.\n\n_ 1520 Ib._ 2400, 4093.\n\n_ 1521 C.I.L._ iii. 1, 633.\n\n 1522 Marq. _Priv._ i. 203.\n\n_ 1523 Or. Henz._ 4082, 4118.\n\n_ 1524 Ib._ 4082, 194, 73, 4077, 6654, 4109, 4069; _C.I.L._ iii. 1, 1209,\n      1497, 1051; x. 228; 1696; 3910.\n\n_ 1525 Or. Henz._ 7007, 4109.\n\n_ 1526 C.I.L._ iii. 1968; _Or. Henz._ 3927, 3321, 6275.\n\n_ 1527 Or. Henz._ 4133.\n\n_ 1528 Ib._ 7116, 3914, 3923, 4080, qui facultates suas coll. reliq.\n\n_ 1529 Ib._ 4109; 194, 4069, 4071, 4094, 7194.\n\n_ 1530 Ib._ 4109.\n\n_ 1531 Ib._ 3724, honore usus impensam remisit; cf. 7011, 6992, 7190, so\n      _passim_.\n\n_ 1532 C.I.L._ ii. 2102.\n\n_ 1533 Or. Henz._ 4371, 4070, 4400, 7365; cf. Marq. _Pr._ i. 370.\n\n_ 1534 Or. Henz._ 4456 aediculae in quibus simulacra, etc., 4510, 4400\n      area quae ante se est maceria cincta long. p. x\u0305l\u0305i\u0305i\u0305x\u0305., lat. p.\n      x\u0305x\u0305x\u0305i\u0305x\u0305., 7365, 4337, 4070, 4085.\n\n_ 1535 Ib._ 4366 ejusque mausolei claves duae penes aliquem libertorum\n      meorum ... sint, 4637, 4353.\n\n_ 1536 Ib._ 6206.\n\n_ 1537 Ib._ 4366.\n\n_ 1538 Or. Henz._ 3999, 4076, 4107, 4088.\n\n_ 1539 Ib._ 3999.\n\n_ 1540 Ib._ 6085.\n\n_ 1541 Ib._ 7215 (A.D. 149).\n\n 1542 Macrob. _Sat._ iii. 13, 11-13.\n\n 1543 Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ ii. 319; Marq. _Pr._ i. 208; Hor. _Ep._ i. 14,\n      21.\n\n 1544 Momms. _De Colleg._ p. 109; cf. _Or._ 2385 (panem vinum et sportulas\n      dedit), 3949.\n\n_ 1545 Or. Henz._ 2417.\n\n 1546 Fl. Apolloni Proc. Aug. qui fuit a pinacothecis.... Optimi piissimi,\n      etc.\n\n_ 1547 Or. Henz._ 6086, quisquis ex hoc collegio servus defunctus fuerit,\n      etc.; cf. the composition of the club in _Or._ 2394.\n\n_ 1548 Ib._ ut quieti et hilares diebus solemnibus epulemur, etc.\n\n_ 1549 Or. Henz._ 4107.\n\n 1550 S. Paul. Nol. _Carm._ xxvii. 547-585; S. Aug. _Ep._ 32; _Serm._ v.\n\n_ 1551 De Coll._ p. 3.\n\n_ 1552 Or. Henz._ 2417, 4055, 2392, 3774, 3815, 1485, 4134.\n\n_ 1553 Ib._ 2417, Item viii K. Mart. die Karae cognationis eodem loco\n      dividerent sportulas, etc.\n\n_ 1554 Or. Henz._ 2399, 4073, 4093.\n\n_ 1555 C.I.L._ i. 1406; ii. 5927.\n\n 1556 Momms. _De Coll._ p. 102; Plin. _Ep._ viii. 16.\n\n 1557 For the contempt for slaves in the fourth and fifth centuries, _v._\n      S. Hieron. _Ep._ 54, \u00a7 5; Salv. _De Gub. Dei_, iv. 26. For humaner\n      sentiment, cf. Macrob. _Sat._ i. 11, 12 sqq.; _C. Theod._ ix. 6, 2,\n      3, vii. 13, 8; ix. 7, 4; ix. 9, 1; ix. 12, 1.\n\n 1558 Plin. _Ep._ viii. 16, \u00a7 1; on the more humane feeling to slaves, cf.\n      Sen. _Ep._ 47; _De Ira_, iii. 24, 32; _De Clem._ i. 18; _De Ben._\n      iii. 18, 19, 20; Juv. xiv. 16; Spart. _Hadr._ c. 18; Wallon,\n      _L\u2019Esclav._ i. c. 11; Marq. _Pr._ i. 177.\n\n 1559 Cagnat, _L\u2019Arm\u00e9e Rom._ pp. 457 sqq.\n\n 1560 Veget. ii. 20.\n\n 1561 D. Cass. 65. 22; Capitol. _M. Ant._ c. 7; D. Cass. 73. 8; Cagnat, p.\n      459; Marq. _R\u00f6m. St._ ii. pp. 136, 543.\n\n 1562 Cf. Marcian ap. Momms. _De Coll._ p. 87, neve milites collegia in\n      castris habeant.\n\n 1563 Cagnat, p. 463.\n\n_ 1564 C.I.L._ viii. 2552-7.\n\n 1565 Cagnat, pp. 467, 540; cf. Boissier, _L\u2019Afr. Rom._ p. 111. _C.I.L._\n      viii. 2554, optiones scholam suam cum statuis et imaginibus domus\n      div. ex largissimis stipendiis ... fecerunt, etc.\n\n_ 1566 C.I.L._ viii. 2552, 3, 4; 2557, iii. 3524; _Henz._ 6790; Cagnat, p.\n      472; Marq. _R\u00f6m. St._ ii. 544.\n\n 1567 Cagnat, p. 474.\n\n 1568 The Cornicines of the 3rd Legion at Lambesi paid an entrance fee of\n      750 denarii (_Scamnari nomine_). The anularium on retirement, and\n      the funeraticium, were each 500 _denarii_. It would seem that there\n      must have been a considerable surplus. _C.I.L._ viii. 2557.\n\n_ 1569 Or. Henz._ 6086, universi consentire debemus ut longo tempore\n      inveterescere possimus; cf. 4357, 4360, 4366, 4386, 4395.\n\n 1570 The diptych, which has been singularly preserved, was found in a\n      deserted mine or quarry about 1780, along with some other private\n      documents of a commercial character; _v._ _C.I.L._ iii. p. 213, and\n      921. The dates range from 131 to 167 A.D. Cf. _Or. Henz._ 6087;\n      Schiller, _Gesch. der r\u00f6m. Kaiserzeit_, i. 2, p. 643.\n\n 1571 See Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, 13, 14, Jener dualistische\n      Idealismus, welchen Plato begr\u00fcndet, und auch Aristoteles nicht\n      grunds\u00e4tzlich \u00fcberwunden hatte, f\u00fchrt in letzter Beziehung auf\n      nichts anderes zur\u00fcck, als auf den Gegensatz des Inneren und\n      Aeusseren des Denkens und der gegenst\u00e4ndlichen Welt.... Es war nur\n      ein Schritt weiter in dieser Richtung, wenn die nacharistotelische\n      Philosophie den Menschen in grunds\u00e4tzlicher Abkehr von der\n      Aussenwelt auf sich selbst wies, um in seinem Innern die\n      Befriedigung zu suchen, etc.\n\n 1572 See Luc. _Eun._ c. 3, _\u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03c4\u03ad\u03c4\u03b1\u03ba\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f10\u03ba \u03b2\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bb\u03ad\u03c9\u03c2 \u03bc\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03bf\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03ac \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f50\n      \u03c6\u03b1\u03cd\u03bb\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u1f70 \u03b3\u03ad\u03bd\u03b7 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03cc\u03c6\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2, \u03a3\u03c4\u03bf\u03ca\u03ba\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03c9, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._ Cf. Capitol.\n      _M. Ant._ c. 3; Philostr. _Apoll._ T. i. 7, \u00a7 8.\n\n 1573 Zeller, iii, 1, 16.\n\n_ 1574 Ib._ 493-5; \u00dcberweg, _Hist. of Phil._ i. 220; Cic. _De Nat. Deor._\n      i. c. 17; _De Fin._ i. c. 9.\n\n 1575 Bussell, _School of Plato_, p. 264; Zeller, iii. 1; p. 8, 9.\n\n 1576 On pessimism in the reign of Augustus, _v._ Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ i.\n      p. 241. Cf. Sen. _De Ira_, ii. 8; _De Ben._ i. 10; _Ad Marc._ 20,\n      22; Tac. _Hist._ ii. 37; Petron. 88.\n\n 1577 Cf. Epict. iii. 13, \u00a7\u00a7 9, 10, where the contrast between the \u201cpax\n      Romana\u201d and moral unrest is drawn.\n\n 1578 Zeller, iii. 1, pp. 12, 14, cf. Baur, _Ch. Hist._ i. p. 14 (Tr.).\n\n 1579 Cic. _Tusc._ iii 3, est profecto animi medicina philosophia, Sen.\n      _Ep._ 22, vena tangenda est; _Ep._ 53, Epict. iii. 23, \u00a7 30,\n      _\u1f30\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03b5\u1fd6\u03cc\u03bd \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03cc\u03c6\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c3\u03c7\u03bf\u03bb\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd_.\n\n 1580 Sen. _Ep._ 94, \u00a7 5, \u00a7 22.\n\n_ 1581 Ep._ 64, \u00a7 8.\n\n 1582 Plut. _De Rect. Rat. Aud._ c. 8; Epict. iii. 23, \u00a7 23.\n\n 1583 Plut. _De Rect. Rat. Aud._ c. 12.\n\n 1584 Plut. (?) _De Lib. Ed._ c. 14.\n\n 1585 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, 487; Plut. _Aemil. P._ c. vi.;\n      Plin. _H. N._ xxxv. 135; Polyb. xxxii. 10. But cf. Mahaffy on\n      Zeller\u2019s view, in _Greek World under Roman Sway_, p. 67.\n\n 1586 Sen. _Ad Marc._ 4.\n\n 1587 Luc. _De Merc. Cond._ 2, 4, 25.\n\n 1588 Tac. _Ann._ xiv. 16, etiam sapientiae doctoribus tempus impertiebat\n      post epulas, utque contraria adseverantium discordia frueretur;\n      Spart. _Hadr._ 15.\n\n 1589 Sen. _De Tranq._ xiv. \u00a7 7.\n\n 1590 Tac. _Ann._ xvi. 34.\n\n 1591 Zeller, iii. 1, 656, 663.\n\n 1592 Epict. iii. 23, \u00a7\u00a7 24-34; i. 4, \u00a7 9, _\u03bf\u1f57\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2, \u03c6\u03b7\u03c3\u03af\u03bd, \u1f24\u03b4\u03b7 \u03b4\u03b9\u2019 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\n      \u03b4\u03cd\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03a7\u03c1\u03cd\u03c3\u03b9\u03c0\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03b3\u03b9\u03b3\u03bd\u03ce\u03c3\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd. \u0395\u1f56, \u03bd\u1f74 \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03cd\u03c2, \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03ba\u03cc\u03c0\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2\n      \u1f04\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03b5. \u03a0\u03bf\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03ba\u03bf\u03c0\u03ae\u03bd;_\n\n 1593 Tertull. _De An._ c. 20, Seneca saepe noster; S. Hieron. _Adv.\n      Jovin._ i. 49.\n\n 1594 S. Hieron, _Adv. Jovin._ i. 29; _De Scrip. Eccl._ 12; S. Aug. _Ep._\n      153, cujus etiam ad Paulum apostolum leguntur epistolae.\n\n 1595 The worst about Seneca is collected in D. Cass. 61. 10. But cf. the\n      attack of P. Suillius, Tac. _Ann._ xiii. 42 and xiv. 52.\n\n 1596 Sen. _Ad Helv._ xix. \u00a7 2.\n\n 1597 Sen. _Ep._ 108, \u00a7\u00a7 13-17.\n\n_ 1598 Ep._ 108, \u00a7 22. He abandoned Pythagorean abstinence, as suspicious,\n      during the persecution of eastern cults; cf. Suet. _Tib._ 36.\n\n 1599 D. Cass. 59. 19.\n\n_ 1600 Ib._ 60. 8; 61. 10; Tac. _Ann._ xiii. 42, schol. Juv. v. 109.\n\n 1601 D. Cass. 61. 4; Tac. _Ann._ xiii. 2. Dion suggests an intrigue with\n      Agrippina, 61. 10.\n\n 1602 Sen. _De Clem._ i. 5, 8.\n\n 1603 Tac. _Ann._ xiii. 2, quo facilius ... voluptatibus concessis\n      retinerent, etc.\n\n_ 1604 Ib._ xiii. 42; D. Cass. 61. 10.\n\n 1605 Tac. _Ann._ xiv. 52, mors Burri infregit Senecae potentiam, etc.\n\n 1606 Tac. _Ann._ xiv. 54.\n\n_ 1607 Ib._ xv. 56 sqq.\n\n 1608 Sen. _Ep._ 55; _De Tranq._ 1 and 2.\n\n 1609 Sen. _Ep._ 108, \u00a7\u00a7 17-22.\n\n 1610 Cf. Baur, _Ch. Hist._ i. p. 16 (Tr.).\n\n 1611 D. Cass. 61. 10.\n\n 1612 Tac. _Ann._ xiii. 13; xiv. 7; and 11, sed Seneca adverso rumore\n      erat, quod oratione tali confessionem scripsisset.\n\n 1613 Sen. _Ep._ 77, \u00a7 16, ecquid habes propter quod expectes? Voluptates\n      ipsas quae te morantur consumpsisti.... Nihil tibi luxuria tua in\n      futuros annos reservavit intactum: cf. _Ep._ 89, \u00a7 21; 90, \u00a7 42.\n\n_ 1614 De Ira_, ii. 8.\n\n_ 1615 Ep._ 90, \u00a7\u00a7 38-41.\n\n_ 1616 Ep._ 49, \u00a7 5, non vaco ad istas ineptias: ingens negotium in\n      manibus est; _Ep._ 75, \u00a7 5, non delectent, verba nostra, sed prosint\n      ... non quaerit aeger medicum eloquentem; _Ep._ 88, \u00a7 36, plus scire\n      quam sit satis, intemperantiae genus est. Cf. _Ep._ 71, \u00a7 6.\n\n_ 1617 Ep._ 89, \u00a7 8, nec philosophia sine virtute est, nec sine\n      philosophia virtus.\n\n_ 1618 Ep._ 66, \u00a7 12.\n\n_ 1619 Ep._ 89, \u00a7 13; 117, \u00a7\u00a7 30, 31.\n\n_ 1620 Ep._ 48, \u00a7 8; 75, \u00a7 6.\n\n_ 1621 Ep._ 64, \u00a7 3; 58, \u00a7 26.\n\n_ 1622 De Vita B._ xiii, where he defends Epicurus.\n\n_ 1623 Ep._ 64, \u00a7 8.\n\n_ 1624 Ep._ 88, \u00a7 37, \u00a7 20.\n\n_ 1625 Ep._ 88, \u00a7 2, unum studium vere liberale est quod liberum facit,\n      etc.\n\n_ 1626 Ib._ \u00a7 39; cf. _Ep._ 88.\n\n_ 1627 Ep._ 89; 66, \u00a7 33; 58, \u00a7 8.\n\n_ 1628 Ib._ 71, \u00a7 6, erige te et relinque istum ludum literarium\n      philosophorum qui rem magnificam ad syllabas vocant, etc.\n\n 1629 Teuffel, ii. \u00a7 284, n. 6; cf. Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, p.\n      623.\n\n 1630 Zeller, iii. 1, p. 56.\n\n_ 1631 Ep._ 117, \u00a7 19; _Nat. Quaest. Prol._; _Ep._ 65, \u00a7 15; cf. Zeller,\n      iii. 1. 622.\n\n_ 1632 Nat. Quaest._ v. 15; cf. _Ep._ 88, \u00a7 15.\n\n_ 1633 Nat. Quaest. Prol._ \u00a7 11, formicarum iste discursus est in augusto\n      laborantium.... Punctum est istud in quo navigatis, in quo bellatis;\n      Sursum ingentia spatia sunt, etc.; cf. Macrob. _Som. Scip._ i. 16, \u00a7\n      6.\n\n 1634 Sen. _Ep._ 73, \u00a7 13, sic deus non vincit sapientem felicitate\n      etiamsi vincit aetate.\n\n 1635 Cf. Pl. _Phaed._ 79 D; Arist. _Eth._ ix 8, \u00a7 7.\n\n_ 1636 Ep._ 102, \u00a7 26, dies iste, quem tanquam extremum reformidas,\n      aeterni natalis est ... discutietur ista caligo et lux undique clara\n      percutiet ... nulla serenum umbra turbabit. Cf. _De Imit._ iii. 48,\n      \u00a7 1, O supernae civitatis mansio beatissima! O dies aeternitatis\n      clarissima, quam nox non obscurat, sed summa Veritas semper\n      irradiat! Lucet quidem Sanctis perpetua claritate splendida, sed non\n      nisi a longe et per speculum peregrinantibus in terra.\n\n_ 1637 Nat. Quaest._ iii. Praef., non praeterit me quam magnarum rerum\n      fundamenta ponam senex.\n\n_ 1638 Ib._ ii. 59, \u00a7 2.\n\n_ 1639 Ib._ iii, \u00a7 18.\n\n_ 1640 Ib._ i. 17, \u00a7 8, An tu existimas auro inditum habuisse Scipionis\n      filias speculum cum illis dos fuisset aes grave?\n\n_ 1641 Nat. Quaest._ ii. 59, \u00a7 3.\n\n_ 1642 Ib._ iii. 1, \u00a7 1.\n\n_ 1643 Ib._ vi. 32.\n\n_ 1644 Ib._ vii. 30, \u00a7 1.\n\n_ 1645 Ib._ vii. 30, \u00a7 3, quam multa praeter hos per secretum eunt nunquam\n      humanis oculis orientia?\n\n_ 1646 Ib._ \u00a7 5, multa venientis aevi populus ignota nobis sciet, multa\n      saeculis tunc futuris, cum memoria nostra exoleverit, reservantur.\n\n_ 1647 Ib._ vii. 31.\n\n_ 1648 De Benef._ i. 10.\n\n 1649 Sen. _De Ira_, ii. 8, 9; _Ad Marc._ ii. 11, 17, 20; Tac. _Hist._ ii.\n      37; Petron. _Sat._ 88; M. Aurel. v. 33; v. 10.\n\n 1650 Sen. _Ep._ 77, \u00a7 6; 24, \u00a7 25; 89, \u00a7 21; 95, \u00a7 16; _De Tranq._ c. i.\n\n_ 1651 Ep._ 48, \u00a7 8.\n\n_ 1652 Ep._ 71, \u00a7 27; 94, \u00a7 50; _Ad Marc._ 24, \u00a7 5; _Ep._ 79, \u00a7 12, tunc\n      animus noster habebit quod gratuletur sibi, cum emissus his\n      tenebris, in quibus volutatur, non tenui visu clara perspexerit ...\n      et caelo redditus suo fuerit; Zeller, iii. i. 637.\n\n_ 1653 Ep._ 79, \u00a7 12; 102, \u00a7 22, per has mortalis aevi moras illi meliori\n      vitae longiorique proluditur, \u00a7\u00a7 26, 28; _Ep._ 73, \u00a7 15, Deus ad\n      homines venit, etc. But cf. Zeller, iii. 1, 650; and for a different\n      view, Burgmann, _Seneca\u2019s Theologie in ihrem Verh\u00e4ltn. zum\n      Stoicismus_, etc. pp. 20-32. That Burgmann\u2019s is the truer view\n      appears from Sen. _Ep._ 95, \u00a7 49; 65, \u00a7 9; _De Clem._ i. 5, \u00a7 7; _De\n      Benef._ ii. 29, \u00a7 4; _De Prov._ v. 10; _De Ira_, ii. 28, \u00a7 1; _Ep._\n      41, \u00a7 2.\n\n_ 1654 Ep._ 95, \u00a7 10.\n\n_ 1655 Ib._ \u00a7 57, rursus voluntas non erit recta nisi habitus animi rectus\n      fuerit, etc.\n\n_ 1656 De Vit. Beat._ xii. \u00a7 4, nec aestimant, voluptas illa Epicuri quam\n      sobria et sicca sit, sed ad nomen ipsum advolant quaerentes\n      libidinibus suis patrocinium aliquod ac velamentum. Cf. _Ep._ 18, \u00a7\n      14; 16, \u00a7 7; 22, \u00a7 13; 28, \u00a7 9.\n\n_ 1657 Ad Helv._ viii. \u00a7 3, quisquis formator universi fuit, sive ille\n      deus est potens omnium, sive incorporalis ratio ingentium operum\n      artifex, sive divinus spiritus per omnia aequali intentione\n      diffusus, sive fatum et immutabilis causarum inter se cohaerentium\n      series. Cf. _N. Quaest._ ii. 45, \u00a7 2.\n\n_ 1658 Ep._ 71, \u00a7 14.\n\n_ 1659 Ep._ 57, \u00a7 8; 66, \u00a7 12; 117, \u00a7 2.\n\n 1660 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, 122; cf. _Nat. Quaest._ ii. 45,\n      \u00a7 2.\n\n_ 1661 De Prov._ i. ii. \u00a7 6; _De Ira_, ii. 27; _De Benef._ ii. 29; _Ep._\n      73, \u00a7 16.\n\n_ 1662 Ep._ 57, \u00a7 8, animus qui ex tenuissimo constat, deprehendi non\n      potest, etc.\n\n 1663 Burgmann, _Seneca\u2019s Theologie_, p. 41.\n\n_ 1664 Ep._ 65, \u00a7 24, quem in hoc mundo deus obtinet, hunc in homine\n      animus.\n\n 1665 Pl. _Phaed._ 83 C, D; 79 B; D; cf. Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii.\n      183; iii. 2, p. 634; Sen. _Ep._ 71, \u00a7 27.\n\n_ 1666 Nat. Quaest._ iii. 30, \u00a7 8, sed illis quoque innocentia non\n      durabit\u2014cito nequitia subrepit.\n\n_ 1667 Ep._ 120, \u00a7 14; 65, \u00a7 16, nam corpus hoc animi pondus ac poena est;\n      premente illo urgetur, in vinculis est, etc. _Ad Polyb._ ix. \u00a7 6,\n      omnis vita supplicium est; _Ad Marc._ xx. \u00a7 2.\n\n_ 1668 Ib._ 22, \u00a7 3.\n\n_ 1669 Ep._ 24, \u00a7 18, mors nos aut consumit aut eximit; _Ep._ 36, \u00a7 10;\n      102, \u00a7 23; _De Prov._ vi. \u00a7 6; _Ad Marc._ 25, \u00a7 1; _ib._ 19, \u00a7 5;\n      20, \u00a7 2, quae efficit ut nasci non sit supplicium; cf. Epict. ii. 1;\n      iii. 10; iii. 13; iv. 1; M. Aurel. viii. 18; vi. 28; iii. 3; ix. 3.\n\n_ 1670 Ep._ 53, \u00a7 11, est aliquid quo sapiens antecedat deum; cf. _Ep._\n      59, \u00a7 16, talis est sapientis animus, qualis mundus super lunam;\n      semper illic serenum est; 72, \u00a7 8.\n\n_ 1671 Ep._ 74, \u00a7 1; 62, \u00a7 3, brevissima ad divitias per contemptum\n      divitiarum via est; 59, \u00a7 14.\n\n_ 1672 Ep._ 74, \u00a7\u00a7 6-12; cf. M. Aurel. v. 15, _\u03bd\u1fe6\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f45\u03c3\u1ff3 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u03c0\u03bb\u03b5\u03af\u03c9 \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2\n      \u1f00\u03c6\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f11\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c4\u03bf\u03cd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u1f22 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f00\u03c6\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03bf\u03cd\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03cc\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u03cd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03ad\u03c7\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9, \u03c4\u03bf\u03c3\u1ff7\u03b4\u03b5\n      \u03bc\u1fb6\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u1f00\u03b3\u03b1\u03b8\u03cc\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9_: Epict. ii. 16, \u00a7 18; iii. 3, \u00a7 14.\n\n 1673 Sen. _Ep._ 31, \u00a7 10; 74, \u00a7 14 aut ista bona non sunt, quae vocantur,\n      aut homo felicior deo est, etc.\n\n_ 1674 Ep._ 67, \u00a7 14.\n\n_ 1675 Ep._ 66, \u00a7 12, ratio autem nihil aliud est quam in corpus humanum\n      pars divini spiritus mersa.\n\n_ 1676 Nat. Quaest._ ii. 36; _De Prov._ 5, \u00a7 8, eadem necessitate et deos\n      adligat ... ille ipse omnium conditor scripsit quidem fata, sed\n      sequitur; semper paret, semel jussit.\n\n_ 1677 Ep._ 95, \u00a7 57; cf. 116, \u00a7 7, satis natura dedit roboris si illo\n      utamur.\n\n_ 1678 Ep._ 73, \u00a7 15, non sunt di fastidiosi: adscendentibus manum\n      porrigunt; _Ep._ 83, \u00a7 1, nihil deo clusum est; _Ep._ 43, \u00a7 5, O te\n      miserum si contemnis hunc testem.\n\n_ 1679 Ep._, 90, \u00a7 38 sqq. avaritia omnia fecit aliena et in angustum ex\n      immenso redacta paupertatem intulit, et multa concupiscendo omnia\n      amisit.\n\n_ 1680 Ib._ \u00a7 46, non fuere sapientes;... ignorantia rerum innocentes\n      erant.\n\n 1681 Sen. _Ep._ 66, \u00a7 13 sqq.; 113, \u00a7 14, Cic. _Tusc._ iv. 15, 34; Plut.\n      _Virt. Mor._ c. 2; Zeller, iii. 1, p. 224.\n\n 1682 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, p. 235; Plut. _De Prof. in\n      Virt._ i. _\u1f65\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u03c9\u0390 \u03ba\u03ac\u03ba\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u1f11\u03c3\u03c0\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b3\u03b5\u03b3\u03bf\u03bd\u03ad\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03c1\u03ac\u03c4\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._;\n      _Adv. St._ c. x.; cf. Sen. _Ep._ 76, \u00a7 19.\n\n 1683 Hor. _Sat._ i. 3, 124; Sen. _Ep._ i. 1, 106; cf. _Ep._ 73, \u00a7 13;\n      Aelian, _Var. Hist._ iv. 13; Luc. _Vit. Auct._ c. 20, _\u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f57\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2\n      \u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03cc\u03c2, \u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03cc\u03c2, \u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b1\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b2\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bb\u03b5\u1f7a\u03c2 \u1fe5\u03ae\u03c4\u03c9\u03c1, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 1684 Sen. _De Benef._ i. 10, \u00a7 1, hoc majores nostri questi sunt, hoc nos\n      querimur, hoc posteri nostri querentur, eversos mores regnare\n      nequitiam, in deterius res humanas labi. Cf. _Ad Polyb._ c. iv.\n\n_ 1685 De Ira_, ii. 8, \u00a7 1, istic tantumdem esse vitiorum quantum hominum.\n\n 1686 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, p. 637; cf. p. 249. Cf. Martha,\n      _Mor. sous l\u2019Emp._ p. 62. On Seneca\u2019s relation to the old Stoic\n      theology, _v._ Burgmann, _Seneca\u2019s Theologie_, p. 42 sq.\n\n 1687 Sen. _De Vit. Beat._ c. 22.\n\n_ 1688 Ep._ 74, \u00a7 17; 87, \u00a7 29 sq.: _De Ben._ v. 13, \u00a7 1 sq.; Zeller, iii.\n      1, p. 638.\n\n_ 1689 \u03b5\u1f50\u03c0\u03ac\u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9_, cf. _De Brev. Vit._ xiv. \u00a7 2; _De Ira_, ii. 2-4;\n      Zeller, iii. 1, p. 216.\n\n_ 1690 De Tranq._ vii. \u00a7 4, ubi enim istum invenies quem tot seculis\n      quaerimus? Pro optimo est minime malus. _Ep._ 42, \u00a7 1.\n\n_ 1691 Ep._ 90, \u00a7 44 sqq.\n\n_ 1692 Ep._ 72, \u00a7\u00a7 6-11.\n\n_ 1693 Ep._ 75, \u00a7 8 sqq.\n\n_ 1694 Ep._ 72, \u00a7 8 sapiens laetitia fruitur maxima, continua, sua.\n\n_ 1695 Ep._ 57, \u00a7 3, non de me loquor, qui multum ab homine tolerabili,\n      nedum a perfecto absum: cf. _Ep._ 89, \u00a7 2.\n\n_ 1696 Ad Polyb._ ii. \u00a7 1; _Ep._ 53, \u00a7 4; 56 \u00a7\u00a7 1-3.\n\n_ 1697 Ep._ 24; esp. \u00a7 14.\n\n_ 1698 Ep._ 53, \u00a7 7, quo quis pejus se habet, minus sentit.\n\n_ 1699 Ep._ 94, \u00a7\u00a7 55, 56.\n\n_ 1700 Ep._ 112, vitia sua et amat simul et odit.\n\n_ 1701 Ep._ 29.\n\n_ 1702 Ep._ 28, \u00a7 1.\n\n_ 1703 Ep._ 13, \u00a7 4 sq.; _Ep._ 24, \u00a7 11.\n\n_ 1704 Ep._ 117, \u00a7 31; 75, \u00a7 6.\n\n_ 1705 Ep._ 13, \u00a7 17, quid est turpius quam senex vivere incipiens?\n\n_ 1706 Ep._ 24.\n\n_ 1707 Ep._ 95, \u00a7 49.\n\n_ 1708 Ep._ 94, \u00a7 5, digiti puerorum tenentur et aliena manu per literarum\n      simulacra ducuntur.\n\n_ 1709 Ep._ 11, \u00a7 8; Plut. _De Pr. Virt._ xv.\n\n_ 1710 Ep._ 25, \u00a7 1.\n\n 1711 S. Hieron. _Ep._ 127, \u00a7\u00a7 5-7; _Ep._ 118, \u00a7 5; Sulp. _Sev._ ii. 13, \u00a7\n      7.\n\n 1712 Sen. _Ep._ 36, \u00a7 1, illum objurgant quod umbram et otium petierit;\n      _Ep._ 123, \u00a7 15, illos quoque nocere nobis existimo, qui nos sub\n      specie Stoicae sectae hortantur ad vitia: hoc enim jactant solum\n      sapientem et doctum esse amatorem.\n\n 1713 Sen. _Ep._ 123, \u00a7 10. Cf. _Inscr. Or. Henz._ 4806, 4807, 4816.\n\n_ 1714 De Tranq._ i.\n\n_ 1715 Ib._ i. \u00a7\u00a7 13-15, nec aegroto nec valeo;... In omnibus rebus haec\n      me sequitur bonae mentis infirmitas. _Ib._ \u00a7 17, rogo, si quod habes\n      remedium quo hanc fluctuationem meam sistam, dignum me putes qui\n      tibi tranquillitatem debeam.\n\n_ 1716 Ep._ 7, \u00a7 8; 19, \u00a7 2.\n\n_ 1717 Ep._ 68, ipsum otium absconde; jactandi autem genus est nimis\n      latere.\n\n_ 1718 Ep._ 43, \u00a7 4; cf. 83, \u00a7 1; 10, \u00a7 2, mecum loquor ... cave ne cum\n      homine malo loquaris.\n\n_ 1719 Ep._ 10, \u00a7 5, turpissima vota dis insusurrant; cf. Pers. _Sat._ ii.\n      7-18; Sen. _Ep._ 41, \u00a7 1.\n\n_ 1720 Ep._ 11, \u00a7 8; 104, \u00a7 21, vive cum Chrysippo, cum Posidonio.\n\n_ 1721 Ep._ 6, \u00a7 1; _Ep._ 28; _Ep._ 50, \u00a7 4; Plut. _De Prof. in Virt._ c.\n      xi. _\u03c4\u1f78 \u03c0\u03ac\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2 \u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03bc\u03bf\u03c7\u03b8\u03b7\u03c1\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03cd\u03c0\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50 \u03c6\u03b1\u1fe6\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u1f02\u03bd \u03b5\u1f34\u03b7\n      \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03ba\u03bf\u03c0\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03c3\u03b7\u03bc\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd_.\n\n_ 1722 De Ira_, iii. 36, \u00a7 3.\n\n_ 1723 Ep._ 32, \u00a7 2, in tanta brevitate vitae quam breviorem inconstantia\n      facimus, etc.; _Ep._ 99, \u00a7 11, intelleges etiam in longissima vita\n      minimum esse quod vivitur.\n\n_ 1724 Ep._ 56, \u00a7 15; 51, \u00a7 5.\n\n_ 1725 Ep._ 51, \u00a7 4; 104, \u00a7 20, si vis peregrinationes habere jucundas,\n      tuum comitem sana.\n\n_ 1726 Ep._ 17, \u00a7 5; 18, \u00a7 8; _Ep._ 87, \u00a7 1; cf. Martha, p. 42.\n\n_ 1727 Ep._ 96, \u00a7 5.\n\n_ 1728 Ep._ 78, \u00a7 16, 4, nos quoque evincamus omnia, quorum praemium non\n      corona nec palma est, etc.\n\n_ 1729 De Vit. Beat._ vii. \u00a7 4; _Ep._ 83, \u00a7 27.\n\n_ 1730 Ep._ 37.\n\n_ 1731 Ep._ 96; 98, \u00a7\u00a7 2, 7.\n\n_ 1732 De Prov._ iii. \u00a7 4.\n\n_ 1733 Ep._ 24, \u00a7 13, rebus persona demenda est.\n\n_ 1734 Ib._ \u00a7 18; cf. _Ep._ 36, \u00a7 10; _Ep._ 30, \u00a7 17; _Ep._ 58, \u00a7 27; cf.\n      Epict. ii. 1.\n\n_ 1735 De Prov._ vi. \u00a7 6; _Ad Marc._ 25; _Ep._ 102, \u00a7\u00a7 23-26, Per has\n      mortalis aevi moras illi meliori vitae longiorique proluditur.\n\n_ 1736 Ep._ 24, \u00a7 11.\n\n_ 1737 Ep._ 24, \u00a7 20; _Ep._ 36.\n\n_ 1738 Ep._ 93, \u00a7 2, longa est vita si plena est; cf. 101, \u00a7 10, singulos\n      dies singulas vitas puta.\n\n_ 1739 De Brev. Vit._ viii. \u00a7 1.\n\n_ 1740 Ib._ x.\n\n_ 1741 Ib._ ix. \u00a7 4, pueriles adhuc animos senectus opprimit.\n\n 1742 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, p. 329, der Stoiker ist zu\n      gebildet ... um den Werth der wissenschaftlichen Weltbetrachtung zu\n      verkennen.\n\n 1743 Cf. Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, p. 277, die Philosophie\n      immer nur die geschichtlich vorhandenen Zust\u00e4nde abspiegele.\n\n 1744 Burgmann, _Seneca\u2019s Theologie_, p. 26.\n\n_ 1745 Ep._ 109, \u00a7 10; 9, \u00a7 15.\n\n_ 1746 De Otio_, iv.; _Ep._ 68, \u00a7 2; cf. S. Aug. _De Civ. Dei_, xi. 1.\n\n 1747 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, p. 274; Stob. _Flor._ 45, 29;\n      Sen. _Ep._ 29, \u00a7 11.\n\n_ 1748 Ep._ 19, \u00a7 6, subduc cervicem jugo tritam.\n\n_ 1749 De Otio_, iii. \u00a7 2, accedet ad rempublicam nisi si quid impedierit.\n\n_ 1750 Ib._ viii. \u00a7 1, interrogo ad quam rempublicam sapiens sit\n      accessurus, ad Athenas in qua Socrates damnatur, etc.; cf. Diog.\n      Laert. v. 1.\n\n_ 1751 Ib._ vii. \u00a7 131.\n\n 1752 Sen. _Ep._ 9, \u00a7 13.\n\n_ 1753 Ep._ 109, \u00a7 3 sqq.\n\n 1754 Epict. _Diss._ iii. 22, \u00a7 69.\n\n 1755 Epict. _Diss._ i. 9, \u00a7 1 sqq. _\u1f22 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03a3\u03c9\u03ba\u03c1\u03ac\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2, \u03bc\u03b7\u03b4\u03ad\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd\n      \u03c0\u03c5\u03b8\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd, \u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03b1\u03c0\u03cc\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9, \u03b5\u1f30\u03c0\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u1f45\u03c4\u03b9 \u1f08\u03b8\u03b7\u03bd\u03b1\u1fd6\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f22 \u039a\u03bf\u03c1\u03af\u03bd\u03b8\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2, \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u2019 \u1f45\u03c4\u03b9\n      \u039a\u03cc\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2_.\n\n 1756 M. Aurel. iii. 11; vi. 44, _\u03c0\u03cc\u03bb\u03b9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u1f76\u03c2 \u1f61\u03c2 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f08\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\u03af\u03bd\u1ff3 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u1f21\n      \u1fec\u03ce\u03bc\u03b7, \u1f61\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u1ff3 \u1f41 \u039a\u03cc\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2_.\n\n 1757 Sen. _Ep._ 95, \u00a7 52; cf. M. Aurel. iv. 4, _\u1f41 \u03ba\u03cc\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f61\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u1f76 \u03c0\u03cc\u03bb\u03b9\u03c2\n      \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03af_: Epict. _Diss._ i. 13, \u00a7 3; Cic. _De Leg._ i. 7, 23, ut jam\n      universus hic mundus una civitas sit communis deorum atque hominum\n      existimanda.\n\n 1758 Sen. _Ep._ 47, \u00a7 2, alteri vivas oportet, si vis tibi vivere; _Ep._\n      55, non sibi vivit qui nemini.\n\n_ 1759 De Otio_, iii. \u00a7 5.\n\n_ 1760 De Benef._ iv. 18, \u00a7 2, nudum et infirmum societas munit.\n\n_ 1761 De Ira_, i. 5, \u00a7 2.\n\n_ 1762 De Ira_, ii. 10, \u00a7 5 sqq.\n\n_ 1763 Ib._ ii. 8 and 9; _Ep._ 90, \u00a7 9 sqq.; _N. Quaest._ v. 15.\n\n_ 1764 Ib._ ii. 10, \u00a7\u00a7 6-8.\n\n_ 1765 De Clem._ i. 6, \u00a7 3, peccavimus omnes.\n\n_ 1766 De Ira_, ii. 28, \u00a7 8, aliena vitia in oculis habemus, a tergo\n      nostra sunt.\n\n_ 1767 De Ben._ iv. 4 and 5; iv. 28; _De Ira_, iii. 26.\n\n_ 1768 De Ira_, ii. 28.\n\n_ 1769 Ib._ iii. 5, ingens animus et verus aestimator sui non vindicat\n      injuriam quia non sentit.... Ultio doloris confessio est.\n\n_ 1770 Ib._ iii. 6.\n\n_ 1771 Ep._ 65, \u00a7 24; _Ad Helv._ viii. \u00a7 3; _Ep._ 41, \u00a7 2; _De Ben._ iv. 4\n      and 7; _Ep._ 10, \u00a7 5, sic vive tamquam deus videat; Siedler, _De\n      Sen. Phil. Mor._ p. 14; Burgmann, _Seneca\u2019s Theologie_, p. 32.\n\n_ 1772 De Prov._ vi. \u00a7 6, hoc est quo deum antecedatis.\n\n_ 1773 De Ira_, iii. 26; _De Ben._ i. 10.\n\n_ 1774 De Ben._ vii. 28, \u00a7 2.\n\n_ 1775 De Ira_, iii. 26; ii. 28; ii. 31.\n\n_ 1776 De Ben._ iii. 28, unus omnium parens mundus est. Cf. _Ep._ 47; _De\n      Ira_, iii. 24; iii. 35; _De Clem._ i. 18.\n\n_ 1777 De Ben._ iii. 18.\n\n_ 1778 De Ben._ iii. 19 and 26; cf. Macrob. _Sat._ i. 11, \u00a7 16.\n\n_ 1779 De Ben._ iii. 20, interior illa pars mancipio dari non potest.\n\n_ 1780 Ad Helv._ xvi. \u00a7 3; _Ep._ 95, \u00a7 21, libidine vero ne maribus quidem\n      cedunt.\n\n_ 1781 Ad Helv._ xix. \u00a7 2, \u00a7 6; Marcia\u2019s husband, probably Vitrasius\n      Pollio, was governor of Egypt.\u2014Teuffel, _R. Lit._ \u00a7 282, 1.\n\n_ 1782 Ad Helv._ xv.-xvii. \u00a7 3.\n\n_ 1783 Ad Marc._ xvi. par illis, mihi crede, vigor, etc.\n\n 1784 Tac. _Ann._ xv. 63, 64; Sen. _Ep._ 104, \u00a7\u00a7 1-6.\n\n_ 1785 De Ben._ iii. 28; iii. 20.\n\n_ 1786 Ad Polyb._ xii. xiii. \u00a7 4; D. Cass. lxi. 10; Tac. _Ann._ xiii. 42.\n\n_ 1787 Ep._ 94, \u00a7 73, quae aliis excelsa videntur, ipsis praerupta sunt.\n\n_ 1788 De Otio_, iv. duas respublicas animo complectamur, etc.\n\n 1789 Sen. _Frag._ ap. Aug. _De Civ. Dei_, vi. 10; _Ep._ 41, \u00a7 1, non sunt\n      ad caelum elevandae manus, nec exorandus aedituus, ut nos ad aurem\n      simulacri quasi magis exaudiri possimus admittat.\n\n 1790 Sen. _Ad Polyb._ iv.\n\n_ 1791 De Brev. Vit._ xv. \u00a7 3 sq.\n\n 1792 Sen. _Ep._ 77, \u00a7 6, cogita quamdiu jam idem facias: cibus, somnus,\n      libido; per hunc circulum curritur; _Ep._ 24, \u00a7 25, quosdam subit\n      eadem faciendi videndique satietas; _Ep._ 89, \u00a7 21; 95, \u00a7 20; 13, \u00a7\n      4; 24, \u00a7\u00a7 11-14; 91, \u00a7 5, 6; _De Tranq._ ii. \u00a7 13; x. \u00a7 5, 6.\n\n 1793 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, pp. 46, 47; cf. Sen. _Ep._ 88, \u00a7\n      20; 117, \u00a7 20.\n\n 1794 Sen. _Ep._ 48, \u00a7 8, omnes undique ad te manus tendunt, etc.\n\n 1795 M. Aurel. ix. 34; v. 33, _\u03b3\u03c5\u03bc\u03bd\u1f70 \u03bd\u03cc\u03bc\u03b9\u03b6\u03b5 \u03b2\u03bb\u03ad\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03c4\u1f70 \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03ac\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd. \u1f45\u03c4\u03b5\n      \u03b4\u03bf\u03ba\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c3\u03b9 \u03b2\u03bb\u03ac\u03c0\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03c8\u03ad\u03b3\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f22 \u1f60\u03c6\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u1f10\u03be\u03c5\u03bc\u03bd\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2, \u1f45\u03c3\u03b7 \u03bf\u1f34\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2; ... \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03ba\u03c5\u03bd\u03af\u03b4\u03b9\u03b1 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03ba\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03af\u03b1 \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03cc\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1, \u03b3\u03b5\u03bb\u1ff6\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1, \u03b5\u1f36\u03c4\u03b1 \u03b5\u1f50\u03b8\u1f7a\u03c2\n      \u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03af\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1. \u03a0\u03af\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b1\u1f30\u03b4\u1f7c\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03af\u03ba\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f00\u03bb\u03ae\u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f4c\u03bb\u03c5\u03bc\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd \u1f00\u03c0\u1f78\n      \u03c7\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd\u1f78\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f50\u03c1\u03c5\u03bf\u03b4\u03b5\u03af\u03b7\u03c2._ Petron. _Sat._ 88; Sen. _De Ira_, ii. 8; D.\n      Chrys. xiii. \u00a7 13, 33; vii. 133.\n\n 1796 Pers. ii. 4 sqq.; cf. Herod. vi. 86; Luc. _Icaromen._ 25.\n\n 1797 Bernays, _Lucian und die Kyniker_, p. 34.\n\n_ 1798 v._ p. 231 of this work. Yet cf. Luc. _Somn. seu Gallus_, 22, _\u03bf\u1f31\n      \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c0\u03bb\u03bf\u03cd\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c6\u03c1\u03af\u03c4\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c2 \u1f31\u03bb\u03ac\u03c3\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03af \u03c3\u03b5 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 1799 Croiset, _Lucien_, p. 164, il a subi fortement leur influence en\n      \u00e9crivant les _Dialogues des morts_.\n\n 1800 Luc. _Menip._ c. 21.\n\n 1801 Luc. _Vit. Auct._ 11; _Traj._ 24; _Dial. Mort._ x. 9.\n\n 1802 Cf. Luc. _Char._ 15, 20; _Dial. Mort._ i. 3; _Somn._ 21.\n\n 1803 Luc. _Traj._ 15; _Necyom._ 12.\n\n_ 1804 Traj._ 19; _Cyn._ 7; _Menip._ 11, _\u03c7\u03c9\u03c1\u1f76\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03bf\u1f35 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c0\u03bb\u03bf\u03cd\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9\n      \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u1fc4\u03b5\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u1f60\u03c7\u03c1\u03bf\u03af \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._ Cf. _Somn._ 14, 15, _\u03bf\u1f31 \u03b4\u1f72 (\u03c0\u03bb\u03bf\u03cd\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9) \u03b5\u1f56 \u1f34\u03c3\u03b8\u03b9\n      \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u1f7a \u1f51\u03bc\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f00\u03b8\u03bb\u03b9\u03ce\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03b2\u03af\u03bf\u03bd \u03b2\u03b9\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c3\u03b9_, cf. 22.\n\n_ 1805 Char._ 23, _\u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03b8\u03bd\u03ae\u03c3\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03b3\u03ac\u03c1, \u1f66 \u03c0\u03bf\u03c1\u03b8\u03bc\u03b5\u1fe6, \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03cc\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f65\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\n      \u1f04\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9_.\n\n 1806 As in _Icaromen._ 15; _Char._ 17.\n\n_ 1807 Char._ 3; cf. a saying of Plato, quoted in M. Aurel. vii. 48, _\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03b4\u1f74 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf\u03cd\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03ba\u03bf\u03c0\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 __\u03c4\u1f70__\n      \u1f10\u03c0\u03af\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1, \u1f65\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b8\u1f72\u03bd \u1f04\u03bd\u03c9\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd, \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u1f70 \u1f00\u03b3\u03ad\u03bb\u03b1\u03c2 ... \u03b3\u03ac\u03bc\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2, \u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03ad\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2,\n      \u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03ac\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2, \u03b4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03af\u03c9\u03bd \u03b8\u03cc\u03c1\u03c5\u03b2\u03bf\u03bd, \u1f11\u03bf\u03c1\u03c4\u03ac\u03c2, \u03b8\u03c1\u03ae\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 1808 Luc. _Char._ 17, _\u1f00\u03c0\u03af\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f65\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u1f10\u03be \u1f40\u03bd\u03b5\u03af\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u1f51\u03c0\u1f72\u03c1 \u03b3\u1fc6\u03c2\n      \u1f00\u03c6\u03ad\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2_.\n\n 1809 Luc. _Vit. Auct._ 3, 13, 16.\n\n 1810 Epict. _Diss._ iv. i. 138, _\u1f0e\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u1f10\u03ba\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd\u03b1 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c3\u03c7\u03bf\u03bb\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u1ff6\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd\n      \u03bc\u03c9\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bd \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._ M. Aurel. vii. 67; cf. Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii.\n      2, p. 203; Hatch, _Hibbert Lec._ p. 142.\n\n 1811 M. Aurel. vi. 15; vii. 19; vi. 24, 42, 47; viii 6; xi. 20; viii. 3;\n      vii. 67.\n\n 1812 Epict. _Fr._ 175; cf. _Diss._ iii. 21, \u00a7 23, _\u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u03ac, \u03b5\u1f34 \u03c3\u03b5 \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03b1\u03b3\u03c9\u03b3\u03b5\u1fd6\n      \u03c4\u1f70 \u03b8\u03b5\u03c9\u03c1\u03ae\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03ae\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1f70 \u03c3\u03c4\u03c1\u03ad\u03c6\u03b5 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c0\u1f76 \u03c3\u03b5\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\u00b7 \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03cc\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03bf\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72\n      \u03bc\u03b7\u03b4\u03ad\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u2019 \u03b5\u1f34\u03c0\u1fc3\u03c2 \u03c3\u03b5\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03cc\u03bd_: cf. M. Aurel. ii. 17, _\u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03af\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b2\u03af\u03bf\u03c5\n      \u1f41 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03c7\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03b3\u03bc\u03ae ... \u03c4\u03af \u03bf\u1f56\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03c0\u03ad\u03bc\u03c8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03c5\u03bd\u03ac\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd; \u1f13\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd, \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03af\u03b1_.\n\n 1813 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ v. 26; D. Chrys. _Or._ xxxii.\n\n 1814 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iv. 41; iv. 24; D. Chrys. xxxvi, \u00a7 17.\n\n 1815 Luc. _Fug._ c. 12.\n\n_ 1816 Hermot._ c. 2, 25.\n\n 1817 D. Chrys. _Or._ lxxviii.; Martha, _Mor. sous L\u2019Emp. rom._ p. 300.\n\n 1818 Luc. (?) _Dem._ c. 7, 8.\n\n 1819 Luc. (?) _Dem._ c. 63.\n\n 1820 Sen. _Ep._ 89, \u00a7 6; cf. A. Gell. xvii. 19, 4.\n\n 1821 Luc. _Hermot._ c. 5.\n\n_ 1822 Ib._ c. 7, _\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bf\u1f57\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b4\u1f74 \u1f51\u03c0\u1f78 \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f65\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u1f51\u03c0\u03cc \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c5\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2\n      \u1f05\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u03b1\u1fe6\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03b5\u03b8\u03ad\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 1823 Luc. _Bis Acc._ c. 11.\n\n_ 1824 Ib._ c. 6, _\u1f01\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c7\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c0\u03ce\u03b3\u03c9\u03bd \u03b2\u03b1\u03b8\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b2\u03b9\u03b2\u03bb\u03af\u03bf\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd __\u03c4\u1fc3 \u1f00\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u1fb3__\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f51\u03c0\u1f72\u03c1 \u03c3\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c3\u03b9 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 1825 Fug._ c. 12; _Vit. Auct._ c. 10; D. Chrys. xxxii. 9; xxxiv. 3.\n\n 1826 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ v. 37.\n\n 1827 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, p. 483. Renan, _Les \u00c9v._ p. 384,\n      les diff\u00e9rences des \u00e9coles \u00e9taient \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s effac\u00e9es. Un\n      \u00e9clecticisme superficie \u00e9tait \u00e0 la mode.\n\n 1828 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ i. 7.\n\n 1829 Capitol. _M. Ant._ c. 3.\n\n 1830 Martha, _Moralistes sous l\u2019Emp._ p. 275; Capes, _Univ. Life_, p. 58\n      sqq.\n\n_ 1831 Roman Society in the Last Century of the Western Empire_ (1st ed.),\n      p. 355.\n\n 1832 Capes, _Univ. Life_, p. 69.\n\n 1833 Epict. ii. 19; iii. 23; Plut. _De Recta Rat. Aud._ vii. viii.; A.\n      Gell. v. i.; Zeller, iii. 1, p. 657.\n\n 1834 Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ i. 3.\n\n 1835 Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ i. iv. _\u1f14\u03b8\u03b5\u03bb\u03b3\u03b5 \u03c4\u1fc7 \u03c4\u03b5 \u1f20\u03c7\u1fc7 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c6\u03b8\u03ad\u03b3\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1ff7\n      \u1fe5\u03c5\u03b8\u03bc\u1ff7 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03b3\u03bb\u03ce\u03c4\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2_. A. Gell. v. 1, 3; Sen. _Ep._ 108, \u00a7 6, non id\n      agunt ut aliqua illo vitia deponant sed ut oblectamento aurium\n      perfruantur. Cf. Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ i. 7.\n\n 1836 Epict. iii. 23, _\u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u2019 \u1f10\u03c0\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03b5\u03c3\u03cc\u03bd \u03bc\u03b5\u00b7 \u03b5\u1f30\u03c0\u03ad \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u039f\u03cd\u1fb6 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u0398\u03b1\u03c5\u03bc\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u1ff6\u03c2_.\n      Plut. _De Recta Rat. Aud._ c. viii.; cf. Hatch, _Hibbert Lec._ p.\n      95.\n\n 1837 Plin. _Ep._ i. 10.\n\n 1838 Epict. iii. 21; ii. 1; ii. 23; Sen. _Ep._ 108, \u00a7 6.\n\n 1839 A. Gell. v. 1, 2, tum scias neque illi philosophum loqui sed\n      tibicinem canere. Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ iii. 3, _\u1fe5\u03c5\u03b8\u03bc\u03bf\u03cd\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5\n      \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03b9\u03bb\u03c9\u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03b1\u1f50\u03bb\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bb\u03cd\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5 \u1f10\u03c3\u03b7\u03b3\u03ac\u03b3\u03b5\u03c4\u03bf \u1f10\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03bd_. D. Chrys.\n      _Or._ xxxv. \u00a7\u00a7 7, 8.\n\n 1840 For a comparative estimate see Capes, _Univ. Life in Ancient\n      Athens_, p. 90; Hatch, _Hibbert Lec._ p. 105.\n\n 1841 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iv. 3; iv. 42; D. Chrys. xxxiii. \u00a7 28;\n      xxxiv. \u00a7 4; xl. \u00a7 31.\n\n 1842 Cf. A. Gell. xii. 1, nihil, inquit, dubito quin filium lacte suo\n      nutritura sit.\n\n 1843 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iii. 41 sqq.; iv. 24; iv. 18, 20; i. 11; i.\n      31.\n\n_ 1844 Ib._ iv. 13, 16, 19, 20, 33; vi. 40.\n\n 1845 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ v. 25, _\u03c4\u1f78 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c4\u03b1\u03cd\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u03b1\u1f37\u03bc\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f41\u03c0\u03cc\u03c3\u03b1\n      \u1f10\u03b8\u03cd\u03b5\u03c4\u03bf, \u03bf\u1f50\u03ba \u1f10\u03c0\u1fc4\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03ac\u03b4\u03b5, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 1846 Ib._ iv. 3.\n\n_ 1847 Ib._ iv. 8.\n\n_ 1848 Ib._ iv. 31.\n\n_ 1849 Ib._ iv. 41.\n\n_ 1850 Ib._ i. 11; iv. 40, _\u1f66\u03b4\u03b5 \u03b5\u1f54\u03c7\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9, \u1f66 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u1f76 \u03b4\u03bf\u03af\u03b7\u03c4\u03ad \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c4\u1f70 \u1f40\u03c6\u03b5\u03b9\u03bb\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1_.\n\n 1851 Diog. Laert. iv. 3, 1, _\u03ba\u03b1\u03af \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5 ... \u03bc\u03b5\u03b8\u03cd\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c6\u03b1\u03bd\u03c9\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f30\u03c2\n      \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u039e\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03ba\u03c1\u03ac\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u1f96\u03be\u03b5 \u03c3\u03c7\u03bf\u03bb\u03ae\u03bd \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._: Epict. iii. 1, \u00a7 14; Hor. _Sat._\n      ii. 3, 253, quaero, faciasne, quod olim Mutatus Polemon? Cf. the\n      conversion of Isaeus, Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ i. 217.\n\n 1852 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iv. 20; cf. i. 13.\n\n_ 1853 Ib._ vii. 16; cf. Tac. _Ann._ xv. 71; D. Cass. lxii. 27.\n\n 1854 Tac. _Ann._ xv. 71; xiv. 59; Epict. i. 1, 27. The Rufus is Musonius\n      Rufus.\n\n 1855 D. Cass. lxvi. 13, _\u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03cc\u03c6\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u1f41 \u039f\u1f50\u03b5\u03c3\u03c0\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c0\u03bb\u1f74\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\n      \u039c\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03c9\u03bd\u03af\u03bf\u03c5 \u1f10\u03ba \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u1fec\u03ce\u03bc\u03b7\u03c2 \u1f10\u03be\u03ad\u03b2\u03b1\u03bb\u03b5_.\n\n 1856 Zeller. _Phil. der __Griech._ iii. 1, pp. 651-658.\n\n 1857 Tac. _Hist._ iii. 81.\n\n 1858 Max. Tyr. v. viii. \u00a7\u00a7 3, 10; xi.; xiv. \u00a7 8; xvii. For the little\n      known of him, _v._ Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 2. p. 182, n. 3.\n\n 1859 D. Chrys. _Or._ xxxii. \u00a7 9, _\u03bf\u1f57\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b4\u1f72 (\u03bf\u1f31 \u039a\u03c5\u03bd\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u1f76) \u1f14\u03bd \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03cc\u03b4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03bd\u03c9\u03c0\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03c5\u03bb\u1ff6\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f31\u03b5\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f00\u03b3\u03b5\u03af\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f00\u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u1ff6\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03ac\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03bd\u03b1\u03cd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 1860 Sen. _Ep._ 5, \u00a7 1; 29, \u00a7 1; Mart. iv. 53, cum baculo peraque senem\n      ... cui dat latratos obvia turba cibos; Epict. iii. 22; D. Chrys.\n      _Or._ xxxiv. \u00a7 2; Athen. iii. 113; Petron. 14; Aleiphr. iii. 55;\n      Caspari, _De Cynicis_, p. 10.\n\n 1861 Luc. _Conviv._ c. 16, 35, etc.\n\n_ 1862 Fug._ c. 5, 15.\n\n_ 1863 Ib._ c. 12, _\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u1fd6\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03b1\u1f30\u03b4\u1ff6 \u1f45\u03c3\u03b7 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u1f70 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2\n      \u1f11\u03c4\u03b1\u03af\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bc\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2, ... \u03c4\u03b1\u1fe6\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03bd\u03af\u03b4\u03b1 \u03bf\u1f50 \u03bc\u03b9\u03ba\u03c1\u1f70\u03bd \u1f21\u03b3\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\n      \u03b5\u1f36\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9_.\n\n 1864 Luc. _Fug._ c. 17-21, _\u03bf\u1f31 \u1f30\u03b4\u03b9\u1ff6\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u03b1\u1fe6\u03c4\u03b1 \u1f41\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03c0\u03c4\u03cd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f24\u03b4\u03b7\n      \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03af\u03b1\u03c2, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 1865 Bernays, _Die Kyniker_, p. 39. Roheit und arbeitsscheues\n      Vagabundenthum ... mussten die Kynische Lebensweise sehr bequem\n      finden.\n\n 1866 Plut. (?) _De Plac. Phil._ ii. 8; iv. 5; Luc. (?) _Demon._ 4,\n      _\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03c3\u03cd\u03bd\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c6\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f10\u03b3\u03ad\u03bd\u03b5\u03c4\u03bf ... \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f70\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bd \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03af\u1fb3 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03ad\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 ...\n      \u1f20\u03c0\u03af\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf_: cf. Caspari, _De Cyn._ p. 6; Zeller, iii. 1, p. 685.\n\n 1867 Cf. Luc. (?) _Dem._ 14 sqq.; Caspari, p. 6.\n\n 1868 Epict. iii. 22, \u00a7 80, _\u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03bd\u1fe6\u03bd \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03b2\u03bb\u03ad\u03c0\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03c0\u03b5\u03b6\u1fc6\u03b1\u03c2\n      \u03c0\u03c5\u03bb\u03b1\u03c9\u03c1\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._, Luc. _Fug._ 14, _\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bf\u1f50 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6\n      \u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03b2\u03ce\u03bd\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03b2\u03b1\u03bb\u03ad\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9_.\n\n 1869 Luc. _Ver. Hist._ ii. 18; Athen. iv. 158; xiii. 588.\n\n 1870 S. Aug. _Civ. D._ xiv. 20, nemo tamen eorum audet hoc facere.\n\n 1871 D. Chrys. _Or._ lxxii. 2; Pers. v. 189; Petron. _Sat._ 71; Tac.\n      _Agr._ 4; _Hist._ iv. 5; Plin. _Ep._ i. 22; Quintil. xi. 1, 35; xii.\n      2, 6.\n\n 1872 Capitol. _Avid. Cass._ 1, \u00a7 8, in a letter of Verus, te philosopham\n      aniculam, me luxuriosum morionem vocat: cf. c. 14.\n\n 1873 Bernays, _Die Kyniker_, p. 31, sie sind die am reinsten deistische\n      Sect, welche das hellenisch-r\u00f6mische Alterthum hervorgebracht hat.\n\n_ 1874 Ib._ p. 30; cf. D. Cass. lxxvii. 19, for the favours showered on\n      the Cynic Antiochus by Severus.\n\n 1875 On Lucian\u2019s _Peregrinus_, _v._ Caspari, _De Cyn._ p. 24 sq.;\n      Bernays, p. 42 sqq.\n\n 1876 Luc. _De Morte Peregr._ c. 5, 10 sq.\n\n_ 1877 Ib._ c. 11, 12.\n\n_ 1878 Ib._ c. 14.\n\n_ 1879 Ib._ c. 17, 18; cf. the rudeness of Demetrius to Vespasian, Suet.\n      _Vesp._ xiii.; D. Cass. lxvi. 13.\n\n 1880 Luc. _De Morte Peregr._ c. 19, _\u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1ff6\u03c2 \u1f20\u03b3\u03cc\u03c1\u03b5\u03c5\u03b5\u03bd \u1f61\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03b8\u03b7\u03bb\u03cd\u03bd\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2\n      \u1f1d\u03bb\u03bb\u03b7\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2_.\n\n 1881 Caspari, _De Cyn._ p. 16; Bernays, _Luc. u. die Kyniker_, p. 16.\n\n_ 1882 Ib._ p. 54.\n\n 1883 This offended Demonax, cf. Luc. (?) _Dem._ c. 21, _\u03a0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b5\u03b3\u03c1\u1fd6\u03bd\u03b5 \u03bf\u1f50\u03ba\n      \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03b9\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2_.\n\n 1884 Luc. _De Morte Peregr._ c. 13.\n\n_ 1885 Ib._ 10, 14, 37; Bernays, p. 54.\n\n 1886 Cf. Aristid. _Or._ xlvi. (Dind. vol. ii. p. 402), _\u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bd \u03c4\u1fc7\n      \u03a0\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03af\u03bd\u1fc3 \u03b4\u03c5\u03c3\u03c3\u03b5\u03b2\u03ad\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03c0\u03bb\u03ae\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03c4\u03c1\u03cc\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2_. Bernays, p. 36,\n      \u00dcbertritte aus dem einen in das andere Lager vorkamen; Hatch, _Hib.\n      Lec._ p. 166; cf. Caspari, _De Cyn._ p. 25; Jul. _Or._ vii. 224. C.\n      _\u03c4\u1f70 \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f04\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1 \u03b3\u03b5 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u1f76\u03bd \u1f51\u03bc\u1fd6\u03bd \u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u1f00\u03ba\u03b5\u03af\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2_ (_i.e._ _\u03a7\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2_)\n      _\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03c0\u03bb\u03ae\u03c3\u03b9\u03b1. \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03bb\u03b5\u03bb\u03bf\u03af\u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03af\u03b4\u03b1 \u1f65\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u1f10\u03ba\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9_.\n\n 1887 Luc. _De Morte Peregr._ c. 36, _\u1f10\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03bc\u03b5\u03c3\u03b7\u03bc\u03b2\u03c1\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03b2\u03bb\u03ad\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd_: c. 25,\n      _\u1f45\u03c0\u03c9\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03b4\u03b5\u03af\u03be\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f65\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u03bf\u1f31 \u0392\u03c1\u03b1\u03c7\u03bc\u1fb6\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2, \u1f10\u03ba\u03b5\u03af\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1\n      \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u1f20\u03c7\u03af\u03bf\u03c5 \u0398\u03b5\u03b1\u03b3\u03ad\u03bd\u03b7\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f30\u03ba\u03ac\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd_.\n\n_ 1888 Ib._ c. 2.\n\n 1889 Luc. _De Morte Peregr._ c. 7 sqq.\n\n_ 1890 Ib._ c. 4, _\u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b4\u03bf\u03be\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u1f72\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c4\u03bf \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03c6\u03ad\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9_.\n\n 1891 Sen. _Ep._ 58, \u00a7 36; 70, \u00a7 8; _De Prov._ ii. 10; vi. \u00a7 7; _De Ira_,\n      iii. 15; _De V. Beat._ 19; Epict. i. 24. Cf. Plin. _Ep._ i. 12; i.\n      22; iii. 7; iii. 9; vi. 24; Boissier, _L\u2019Opp._ p. 212 sqq.\n\n 1892 D. Cass. lxix. 8, _\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f41 \u0395\u1f50\u03c6\u03c1\u03ac\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2 \u1f41 \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03cc\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c0\u03ad\u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03bd \u1f10\u03b8\u03b5\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03ae\u03c2,\n      \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03c4\u03c1\u03ad\u03c8\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1ff7 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u1f09\u03b4\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03ba\u03c9\u03bd\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd \u03b4\u03b9\u1f70 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03b3\u1fc6\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03b9\u1f70 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd\n      \u03bd\u03cc\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03b9\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd_.\n\n 1893 Ael. Spart. _Hadr._ c. 24.\n\n 1894 Diog. Laert. vi. 18; cf. vi. 77, for the death of Diogenes himself.\n\n 1895 Luc. _De Morte Peregr._ c. 29.\n\n_ 1896 Ib._ c. 33.\n\n_ 1897 Ib._ c. 34, _\u1f10\u03b3\u1f7c \u03b4\u03ad, \u03b5\u1f30\u03ba\u03ac\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2, \u03bf\u1f36\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9, \u03c0\u1ff6\u03c2 \u1f10\u03b3\u03ad\u03bb\u03c9\u03bd_. _v._ Baur\u2019s view\n      of this piece (_Ch. Hist._ ii. 170). He thinks the self-immolation\n      of Peregrinus pure fiction, and that Lucian\u2019s object throughout was\n      to discredit Christianity.\n\n 1898 Luc. _De Morte Peregr._ c. 36.\n\n_ 1899 Ib._ c. 38.\n\n 1900 Luc. _De Morte Peregr._ c. 39.\n\n_ 1901 Ib._ c. 40.\n\n 1902 A. Gell. xii. 11, virum gravem atque constantem vidimus ...\n      deversantem in quodam tugurio extra urbem.\n\n 1903 Zeller, _Phil. der__ Griech._ iii. 1, p. 685; Bernays, _Luc. u. die\n      Kyniker_, p. 27 sq.\n\n 1904 Epict. _Diss._ iii. 22, \u00a7 23, _\u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u2019 \u03b5\u1f30\u03b4\u03ad\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6 \u1f45\u03c4\u03b9 \u1f04\u03b3\u03b3\u03b5\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c0\u1f78 \u0394\u03b9\u1f78\u03c2\n      \u1f00\u03c0\u03ad\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03bb\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2, \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u1f00\u03b3\u03b1\u03b8\u1ff6\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f51\u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03b5\u03af\u03be\u03c9\u03bd\n      \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u1f45\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c0\u03bb\u03ac\u03bd\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1\u03c7\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b6\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03c3\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u1f00\u03b3\u03b1\u03b8\u03bf\u1fe6 \u1f45\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\n      \u03bf\u1f50\u03ba \u1f14\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03bd, \u1f45\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b4\u2019 \u1f14\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03ba \u1f10\u03bd\u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 1905 Ib._ iii. 22, \u00a7\u00a7 28-30.\n\n_ 1906 Ib._ \u00a7 38, _\u1f45\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 \u03bf\u1f50 \u03b4\u03bf\u03ba\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c4\u03b5 \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72 \u03b8\u03ad\u03bb\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5 \u03b6\u03b7\u03c4\u1fc6\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03cc. \u03b5\u1f30 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1\n      \u1f20\u03b8\u03ad\u03bb\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5, \u03b5\u1f55\u03c1\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5 \u1f02\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd \u1f51\u03bc\u1fd6\u03bd \u1f44\u03bd \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 1907 Epict. _Diss._ iii. 22, \u00a7 47, _\u1f34\u03b4\u03b5\u03c4\u03ad \u03bc\u03b5, \u1f45\u03c4\u03b9 \u1f04\u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03af\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f30\u03bc\u03b9, \u1f04\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03c2,\n      \u1f00\u03ba\u03c4\u03ae\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd, \u1f04\u03b4\u03bf\u03c5\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2_.\n\n_ 1908 Ib._ \u00a7 56, _\u039a\u03c5\u03bd\u03b9\u03ba\u1ff7 \u03b4\u1f72 \u039a\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03c4\u03af\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03bd \u1f22 \u1f41 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03c0\u03b5\u03c0\u03bf\u03bc\u03c6\u1f7c\u03c2 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1fa7\n      \u03bb\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03b5\u03cd\u03b5\u03b9, \u1f41 \u0396\u03b5\u03cd\u03c2_.\n\n_ 1909 Ib._ \u00a7 52.\n\n_ 1910 Ib._ \u00a7 67.\n\n_ 1911 Ib._ \u00a7 81, _\u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03af\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9, \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u1f04\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c5\u1f31\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2\n      \u1f14\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9, \u03c4\u1f70\u03c2 \u03b3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u1fd6\u03ba\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b8\u03c5\u03b3\u03b1\u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2_.\n\n_ 1912 Ib._ \u00a7 84.\n\n_ 1913 Ib._ \u00a7 100.\n\n 1914 Epict. iii. 22, \u00a7\u00a7 86, 87.\n\n_ 1915 Ib._ \u00a7 93, _\u03c0\u03c1\u1f78 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u1f78 \u1f21\u03b3\u03b5\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b9\u03ba\u1f78\u03bd \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03b1\u03c1\u03ce\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u1f36\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\n      \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u1f21\u03bb\u03af\u03bf\u03c5_.\n\n 1916 Bernays, _Luc. u. die Kyniker_, pp. 36-38.\n\n_ 1917 Ib._ p. 99.\n\n_ 1918 Ib._ p. 37; Caspari, _De Cyn._ p. 25.\n\n_ 1919 Ib._ p. 5.\n\n 1920 Luc. (?) _Dem._ c. 16-21.\n\n 1921 Sen. _Ben._ vii. 11; Philostr. _Apoll. T._ vii. 42.\n\n 1922 Sen. _Ben._ vii. i. 3, vir meo judicio magnus etiamsi maximis\n      comparetur; vii. 8, 2.\n\n 1923 Id. _Ep._ 20, 9; _Vit. B._ xviii. 3.\n\n 1924 Id. _De Ben._ vii. 1, \u00a7 3, egregia hoc dicere solet, Plus prodesse,\n      si pauca praecepta sapientiae teneas, sed illa in promptu tibi sint,\n      etc.\n\n 1925 Luc. _Adv. Indoct._ 19.\n\n 1926 Sen. _De Ben._ vii. 8, 2.\n\n 1927 Tac. _Ann._ xvi. 34.\n\n 1928 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iv. 25, 42; vi. 13; viii. 10; vii. 42.\n\n 1929 Epict. _Diss._ i. 25, \u00a7 22, _\u1f00\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03bb\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b8\u03ac\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c3\u03bf\u1f76 \u03b4\u2019 \u1f21 \u03c6\u03cd\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2_.\n\n 1930 Suet. _Vesp._ xiii. philosophorum contumaciam lenissime tulit;\n      _Dom._ x.; D. Cass. lxvi. 13.\n\n 1931 Bernays, _Luc. u. die Kyniker_, p. 29.\n\n 1932 D. Cass. lxvi. 15.\n\n 1933 Luc. _De Morte Peregr._ c. 19; the attempt of Peregrinus in Greece\n      is probably referred to in Jul. Capitol. _Ant. P._ 5, \u00a7 5; cf.\n      Bernays, p. 30; Caspari, _De Cyn._ p. 15.\n\n 1934 Bernays, p. 31.\n\n 1935 Sen. _De Prov._ 5, \u00a7\u00a7 5-7.\n\n 1936 Luc. _Dem._ c. 11; Oenom. _Fr._ 13, _\u03bf\u1f50\u03ba \u1f00\u03b8\u03ac\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9, \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u03bb\u03af\u03b8\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03be\u03cd\u03bb\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5\u03c3\u03c0\u03cc\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd_, 14; cf. Julian, _Or._ vii. 204, _a_.\n\n 1937 Caspari, _De Cyn._ p. 12; Bernays, p. 35; Zeller, _Phil. der\n      Griech._ iii. 1, p. 690.\n\n 1938 Plut. _De Def. Or._ vii.\n\n 1939 Julian, _Or._ vii. 209.\n\n 1940 Jul. vii. 209, 210, _\u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03c6\u03ad\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03bf\u1f57\u03c4\u03bf\u03af \u03c4\u03b9 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u2019 \u1f10\u03c1\u03b7\u03bc\u03af\u03b1\u03c2\n      \u03bb\u1fc3\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c5\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bb\u03b7\u03c6\u03cc\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03c4\u1f70\u03c2 \u1f00\u03ba\u03c4\u1f70\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c0\u1f76 \u03c4\u1ff7 \u03bb\u03c5\u03bc\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03c0\u03bb\u03ad\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9_.\n\n 1941 Bernays, _Luc. u. die Kyniker_, p. 104, agrees with Bekker that the\n      _Demonax_ can hardly be a genuine work of Lucian. But its author was\n      a contemporary and friend of Demonax (c. i. _\u1f10\u03c0\u1f76 \u03bc\u03ae\u03ba\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\n      \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b5\u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03cc\u03bc\u03b7\u03bd_).\n\n 1942 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, p. 691, n. 6.\n\n 1943 Luc. _Dem._ c. 3 sqq.\n\n_ 1944 Ib._ c. 3, 24, 31.\n\n_ 1945 Ib._ c. 62.\n\n 1946 Luc. (?) _Dem._ c. 5, 6.\n\n_ 1947 Ib._ c. 14.\n\n_ 1948 Ib._ c. 7.\n\n_ 1949 Ib._ 6.\n\n_ 1950 Ib._ 9, 10.\n\n_ 1951 Ib._ c. 11, _\u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03c7\u03cd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u1f22 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u1f70 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u1f11\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b1\u03af\u03c1\u03b5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f00\u03c0\u03b5\u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03ae\u03c3\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf_.\n\n_ 1952 Ib._ c. 37.\n\n_ 1953 Ib._ 32.\n\n_ 1954 Ib._ c. 12, 24.\n\n 1955 Luc. (?) _Dem._ c. 14, _\u03bf\u1f57\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2, \u1f14\u03c6\u03b7, \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c0\u1f7c\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78 \u1f44\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1, \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03c3\u03b5\n      \u03a0\u03c5\u03b8\u03b1\u03b3\u03cc\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2_.\n\n_ 1956 Ib._ c. 26, _\u03c3\u1f7a \u03b4\u1f72 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u1f61\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c0\u2019 \u1f08\u03b3\u03b1\u03bc\u03ad\u03bc\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03ba\u03c1\u03af\u03bd\u1fc3_.\n\n_ 1957 Ib._ c. 55.\n\n_ 1958 Ib._ c. 57.\n\n_ 1959 Ib._ c. 63 sqq.\n\n 1960 D. Chrys. _Or._ xxxiv. \u00a7 2; lxxii. \u00a7 2.\n\n 1961 Cf. Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ i. 7. For other authorities _v._ Zeller,\n      _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, p. 729, n. 1. Martha, _Moralistes sous\n      l\u2019Emp. rom._ 294, gives a good sketch of Dion\u2019s career.\n\n 1962 D. Chrys. _Or._ xiii. \u00a7 1.\n\n 1963 Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ i. 7.\n\n 1964 Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ i. 2; _\u1f14\u03bb\u03b5\u03b3\u03b5 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bc\u1f70 \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03c1\u03b5\u03c6\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u0394\u03af\u03c9\u03bd\u03b1\n      \u201c\u03c4\u03af \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2, \u03bf\u1f50\u03ba \u03bf\u1f36\u03b4\u03b1, \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u1ff6 \u03b4\u03ad \u03c3\u03b5 \u1f61\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bc\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03cc\u03bd.\u201d_\n\n 1965 D. Chrys. _Or._ xiii. \u00a7 6, 9, 10, _\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bb\u03ae\u03bd \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03b1\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u1f74\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u1f7c\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03c4\u1f06\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1 \u03ba\u03bf\u03bb\u03ac\u03c3\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bc\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u1f20\u03bb\u03ce\u03bc\u03b7\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c7\u03bf\u1fe6_.\n\n_ 1966 Ib._ \u00a7 12, _\u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u1f76 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u1f20\u03c1\u03ce\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03b9\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2, \u1f45 \u03c4\u03b9 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c6\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03c4\u03bf \u1f00\u03b3\u03b1\u03b8\u1f78\u03bd\n      \u1f22 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03cc\u03bd. \u1f65\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5 \u1f20\u03bd\u03b1\u03b3\u03ba\u03b1\u03b6\u03cc\u03bc\u03b7\u03bd \u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03af\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u1f51\u03c0\u1f72\u03c1 \u03c4\u03bf\u03cd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u1f35\u03bd\u03b1 \u1f14\u03c7\u03bf\u03b9\u03bc\u03b9\n      \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03ba\u03c1\u03af\u03bd\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u1f76\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c1\u03c9\u03c4\u03ce\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd_. With the conversion of Dion cf. of that\n      of Isaeus and Polemon, etc., Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ i. p. 218;\n      _Apoll. Tyan._ i. 13; iv. 20; Epict. iii. 1; Diog. Laert. iv. 3, \u00a7\n      1.\n\n 1967 D. Chrys. _Or._ xxxvii. \u00a7 25; iv. \u00a7 1; vi.\n\n_ 1968 Or._ liv.; xiii. \u00a7 13, 14, _\u1f10\u03bd\u03af\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5 \u1f51\u03c0\u1f78 \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03c1\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f96\u03b1 \u1f10\u03c0\u03af \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1 \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03bd\n      \u1f00\u03c1\u03c7\u03b1\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd \u03bb\u03b5\u03b3\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u1f51\u03c0\u03cc \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03a3\u03c9\u03ba\u03c1\u03ac\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._: cf. xviii. \u00a7 14,\n      _\u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u1f04\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bc\u03bf\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bb\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03ad\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b1\u1fe6\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u039e\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c6\u1ff6\u03bd_.\n\n 1969 D. Chrys. _Or._ lxx. \u00a7 1, 7; _\u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03cc\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b2\u03af\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f04\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\n      \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2, \u1f04\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd_; cf. xiii. \u00a7 33.\n\n_ 1970 Ib._ xiii. \u00a7 28; xxiii. \u00a7 7, _\u03bf\u1f50\u03ba\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03c4\u03c5\u03c7\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u1f00\u03b3\u03b1\u03b8\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b4\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2\n      \u1f21\u03b3\u1fc7 \u03b4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1\u03af\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b6\u1fc6\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03af\u03bc\u03c9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c3\u03c9\u03c6\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u03c9\u03c2_; cf. Epict. i. \u00a7 14,\n      _\u1f10\u03c0\u03af\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd \u1f11\u03ba\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u1ff3 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03ad\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5, \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u1f11\u03ba\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b4\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b1 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._ M. Aurel. v.\n      27.\n\n 1971 D. Chrys. _Or._ xxxii. \u00a7 9; xxxv. \u00a7 2, 3; xxxiv. \u00a7 2.\n\n_ 1972 Or._ xvi. \u00a7 2, 3; xxxv. \u00a7 8; cf. xiii. \u00a7 11, _\u03bf\u1f31 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u1f76 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03cc\u03c6\u03c9\u03bd \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03ba\u03b7\u03c1\u03cd\u03c4\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 1973 Or._ xiii. \u00a7 13, 34, _\u1f10\u03b4\u03cc\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd \u03b4\u03ad \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f04\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2, \u03c6\u03b5\u03c1\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\n      \u03c4\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bd \u03c4\u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1ff7 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03ac, \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03af \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c7\u03c1\u03ae\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03cc\u03be\u03b1\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03c3\u03c9\u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u1f70\u03c2 \u1f21\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd\u03ac\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 1974 Or._ xxxiii. \u00a7 17, 23, 32; cf. the ghastly exposure in _Or._ vii. \u00a7\n      133.\n\n_ 1975 Or._ xxxiii. \u00a7\u00a7 24-28, _\u03b5\u1f34 \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b9\u03ad\u03c1\u03c7\u03bf\u03b9\u03c4\u03bf \u03a0\u03ad\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72 \u03c3\u03b7\u03bc\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd \u1f44\u03c8\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\n      \u03c0\u03cc\u03bb\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2, \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72\u03bd \u03b4\u03af\u03c7\u03b1 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u1f7a\u03bd \u03ba\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u1f36\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd \u03c4\u1ff7\n      \u03c4\u03cc\u03c0\u1ff3_. Cf. xiii. \u00a7\u00a7 33, 34.\n\n 1976 A good example is the opening of _Or._ xxxii.\n\n_ 1977 Or._ xiv. \u00a7 2; xiii. \u00a7 13, _\u1f10\u03b4\u03cc\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd \u03b4\u03ad \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f04\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._:\n      cf. Zeller, _Phil. der Gr._ iii. 1, p. 730, er zeigt mit den\n      Stoikern, dass die wahre Freiheit mit der Vern\u00fcnftigkeit, die\n      Sklaverei mit der Unvernunft zusammenfalle; cf. _Or._ xvi. \u00a7 4.\n\n_ 1978 Or._ xvii. 2, 3.\n\n_ 1979 Or._ xx. \u00a7 8, _\u03bc\u1f74 \u03bf\u1f56\u03bd \u03b2\u03b5\u03bb\u03c4\u03af\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bb\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03ac\u03c4\u03b7 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c3\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f21 \u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1f78\u03bd\n      \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03c7\u03ce\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._ Hatch, _Hib. Lec._ p. 150.\n\n 1980 Plin. _Ep._ x. 17, 23, 24, 58; Bury, _Rom. Emp._ p. 439.\n\n 1981 D. Chrys. _Or._ xxxiv. \u00a7 10, 14, 48; xxxviii. \u00a7 11; xxxiv. \u00a7 16, 19,\n      29, 31.\n\n_ 1982 Ib._ xxxvi.\n\n 1983 D. Chrys. _Or._ xxxvi. \u00a7 15, 8, 9, _\u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f31 \u0392\u03bf\u03c1\u03c5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd\u1fd6\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd\n      \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03b7\u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u1f10\u03c3\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\u03b4\u03ac\u03ba\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._ Cf. \u00a7 20, 23.\n\n 1984 Momms. _Rom. Prov._ i. pp. 326, 354; cf. Aristid. _Or._ xiv. xv.\n      223-230 (Dind.).\n\n 1985 Momms. _Rom. Prov._ i. p. 362; cf. Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ i. 7;\n      _Vit. Soph._ i. p. 220, _\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b2\u03ae\u03c3\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f10\u03c0\u1f76 \u03bc\u03ad\u03b3\u03b1 \u03c4\u1f70\u03c2 \u039a\u03bb\u03b1\u03b6\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u1f70\u03c2\n      \u1f21\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03b5\u1f30 \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f74 \u1f00\u03bd\u1f72\u03c1 \u1f10\u03bc\u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03b5\u03cd\u03c3\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c3\u03c6\u03b9\u03c3\u03af\u03bd \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 1986 Momms. _Rom. Prov._ i. pp. 329, 330; cf. Aristid. _Or._ xv.;\n      Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iv. 7, _\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u1f10\u03ba\u03ad\u03bb\u03b5\u03c5\u03b5\u03bd \u1f10\u03c6\u2019 \u1f11\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03bc\u1fb6\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd\n      \u1f22 \u03c4\u1ff7 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03c0\u03cc\u03bb\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f34\u03b4\u03b5\u03b9._ D. Chrys. _Or._ xxxiv. 48; Friedl.\n      _Sitteng._ iii. p. 111.\n\n 1987 D. Chrys. _Or._ xxxviii. \u00a7 7, 31, 36.\n\n_ 1988 Ib._ xl. \u00a7 27, _\u1f21 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f10\u03b3\u03b3\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f55\u03c4\u03c9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f40\u03bc\u03cc\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u1f70 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78\n      \u03bc\u1fd6\u03c3\u03bf\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72\u03bd \u1f04\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf \u1f14\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03b5\u03bd \u1f22 \u03c3\u03c4\u03ac\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9 \u03bc\u03b9\u1fb6\u03c2 \u03c0\u03cc\u03bb\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2 \u1f45\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b3\u03ac\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd\n      \u03ba\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd\u03af\u03b1, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 1989 Ib._ xxxviii. \u00a7\u00a7 26-31.\n\n_ 1990 Ib._ xxxiv. \u00a7\u00a7 44-48, _\u03b1\u1f31 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03bf\u1f56\u03bd \u03b8\u1fd6\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u1fc7 \u03bb\u03af\u03bc\u03bd\u1fc3 \u03c7\u03c9\u03c1\u03af\u03bf\u03bd\n      \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u03b5\u03bd\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f04\u03be\u03b9\u03b1_.\n\n_ 1991 Ib._ xl. \u00a7 35.\n\n_ 1992 Ib._ xxxviii. \u00a7\u00a7 42-46.\n\n 1993 Plin. _Ep._ x. 96, \u00a7 7.\n\n 1994 Mahaffy, _Greek World under Roman Sway_, p. 242; Merivale, viii. p.\n      239; Momms. _Rom. Prov._ ii. p. 264.\n\n 1995 Momms. ii. p. 263; D. Chrys. xxxii.; Tac. _Hist._ iv. 81; Ael.\n      Spart. _Hadr._ c. 12, 14; D. Cass. lxix. 11; Petron. 31, 68.\n\n 1996 D. Chrys. _Or._ xxxii. \u00a7 57, 41, 51, 55; Pl. _Rep._ iii. 399; Arist.\n      _Pol._ viii. 5.\n\n 1997 D. Chrys. _Or._ xxxii. \u00a7 75.\n\n_ 1998 Ib._ \u00a7 31, _\u03bf\u1f37\u03c2 \u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03b2\u03ac\u03bb\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u1f7a\u03bd \u1f04\u03c1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd_.\n\n_ 1999 Ib._ \u00a7 40.\n\n 2000 See an excellent analysis of this piece (vii.) in Mahaffy\u2019s _Greek\n      World under Roman Sway_, pp. 277-288.\n\n 2001 D. Chrys. _Or._ vii. \u00a7 34 sqq.\n\n_ 2002 Ib._ \u00a7\u00a7 105-108.\n\n_ 2003 Ib._ \u00a7\u00a7 82-89, _\u03b1\u1f31 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03b4\u1f74 \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03ae\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c7\u03ac\u03c1\u03b9\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2, \u1f10\u1f70\u03bd \u03c3\u03ba\u03bf\u03c0\u1fc7 \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2\n      \u1f40\u03c1\u03b8\u1ff6\u03c2, \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72\u03bd \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03c6\u03ad\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f10\u03c1\u03ac\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03af\u03c9\u03bd_.\n\n 2004 D. Chrys. _Or._ vii. \u00a7 133; Musonius, Stob. _Flor._ vi. 61; cf. on\n      this subject Denis, _Id\u00e9es Morales_, etc. ii. p. 134.\n\n 2005 D. Chrys. _Or._ vii. \u00a7 139.\n\n_ 2006 Ib._ x. \u00a7 13; xv. \u00a7 5; 6, 31; cf. Juv. xiv. 16; Sen. _Ben._ iii.\n      21; _Ep._ 47; cf. Denis, ii. 152; Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ ii. p. 354.\n\n 2007 Cf. Newman\u2019s _Politics of Aristotle_, Introd. p. 144.\n\n 2008 D. Chrys. _Or._ xv. \u00a7 31.\n\n 2009 D. Chrys. _Or._ i. \u00a7 13; ii. \u00a7\u00a7 75-77; iii. \u00a7 39, 62, 107; iv. \u00a7 63;\n      cf. Plin. _Paneg._ 72, 80, 67; Sen. _De Clem._ i. 13, \u00a7 4; i. 19, \u00a7\n      2.\n\n 2010 D. Chrys. _Or._ i. \u00a7 79; cf. iii. \u00a7\u00a7 5, 6.\n\n_ 2011 Ib._ i. \u00a7 52.\n\n_ 2012 Ib._ \u00a7 56.\n\n_ 2013 Ib._ \u00a7 66.\n\n_ 2014 Or._ iv. \u00a7 39.\n\n_ 2015 Ib._ iii. \u00a7\u00a7 51, 62, _\u03c4\u1f78 \u1f04\u03c1\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u03b1\u03bc\u1ff6\u03c2 \u1fe5\u1fb4\u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u2019 \u1f10\u03c0\u03af\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2016 D. Chrys. _Or._ iii. \u00a7\u00a7 38, 88, 107.\n\n 2017 Sueton. _Dom._ xxxiii.; _Calig._ lx. abolendam Caesarum memoriam ac\n      diruenda templa censuerunt; cf. _Or. Henz._ 698, 699, 767, where the\n      names of Caligula and Domitian have been erased.\n\n_ 2018 Nov. Valent._ tit. viii.; _Leg. Anthem._ tit. i.; _Nov. Mart._ ii.\n\n 2019 D. Chrys. _Or._ vii. \u00a7 135, where the gods of pure wedlock are\n      appealed to against vagrant vice.\n\n_ 2020 Ib._ xii. \u00a7 20.\n\n 2021 D. Chrys. _Or._ xii. \u00a7 26.\n\n 2022 Luc. _De Sacrif._ 11, _\u03bf\u1f34\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f41\u03c1\u1fb6\u03bd ... \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u039a\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1fec\u03ad\u03b1\u03c2\n      \u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03b3\u1fc6\u03bd \u1f51\u03c0\u1f78 \u03a6\u03b5\u03b9\u03b4\u03af\u03bf\u03c5 \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u1ff3\u03ba\u03b9\u03c3\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03a0\u03b9\u03c3\u03b1\u03af\u03c9\u03bd \u1f10\u03c1\u03b7\u03bc\u03af\u03b1\u03bd\n      \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03ba\u03bf\u03c0\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u03ba\u03b5\u03ba\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03c5\u03c3\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd_.\n\n_ 2023 Or._ xii. \u00a7 51, _\u03ac\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd \u03b4\u03ad, \u1f43\u03c2 \u1f02\u03bd \u1fc3 \u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u1ff6\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c0\u03af\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd\u1f70\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03ae\u03bd,\n      \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03bb\u03ae\u03c3\u03b1\u03c2 \u03be\u03c5\u03bc\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u1f70\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bb\u03cd\u03c0\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bd \u03c4\u1ff7 \u03b2\u03af\u1ff3 ... \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f43\u03c2 \u03b4\u03bf\u03ba\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03af\u03bf\u03bd \u03c3\u03c4\u1f70\u03c2 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c3\u03b4\u03b5 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f30\u03ba\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f10\u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03b8\u03ad\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u1f45\u03c3\u03b1 \u1f10\u03bd\n      \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03af\u03bd\u1ff3 \u03b2\u03af\u1ff3 \u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u1f70 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c7\u03b1\u03bb\u03b5\u03c0\u1f70 \u03b3\u03af\u03b3\u03bd\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b8\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd._\n\n_ 2024 Or._ xii. \u00a7\u00a7 27, 28, 33, 42; cf. Sen. _Ep._ 117, \u00a7 6, omnibus\n      insita de dis opinio est.\n\n 2025 D. Chrys. _Or._ xii. \u00a7\u00a7 42, 43.\n\n_ 2026 Ib._ \u00a7 61, _\u1f65\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u03bd\u03ae\u03c0\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u1fd6\u03b4\u03b5\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f22 \u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c0\u03b5\u03c3\u03c0\u03b1\u03c3\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9 ...\n      \u1f40\u03c1\u03ad\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c7\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f50 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03ac\u03ba\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f40\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03ce\u03c4\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2027 D. Chrys. _Or._ xii. \u00a7 62.\n\n_ 2028 Ib._ \u00a7 56.\n\n_ 2029 Ib._ \u00a7 61; cf. Plut. _De Is. et Osir._ lxxi., lxxii., lxxvi.;\n      Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ vi. 19; Max. Tyr. _Diss._ viii. \u00a7 5.\n\n 2030 D. Chrys. _Or._ xii. \u00a7 59, _\u03bd\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c6\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u2019 \u03b1\u1f51\u03c4\u1f74\u03bd\n      \u03bf\u1f54\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c0\u03bb\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f54\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b3\u03c1\u03b1\u03c6\u03b5\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f30\u03ba\u03ac\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f14\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9_: Plut. _De\n      Is._ lxxix.\n\n 2031 Cf. Max. Tyr. _Diss._ viii. \u00a7 3, _\u03c4\u1f78 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f19\u03bb\u03bb\u03b7\u03bd\u03b9\u03ba\u1f78\u03bd \u03c4\u03b9\u03bc\u1fb6\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2\n      \u1f10\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03af\u03c3\u03b5 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd \u03b3\u1fc7 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03af\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2, \u1f55\u03bb\u1fc3 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03b1\u03c1\u1fb7\u03bc\u03bf\u03c1\u03c6\u1fc7 \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03af\u03bd\u1fc3 \u03c4\u03ad\u03c7\u03bd\u1fc3\n      \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f00\u03ba\u03c1\u03b9\u03b2\u03b5\u1fd6_.\n\n 2032 D. Chrys. _Or._ xii. \u00a7 78.\n\n_ 2033 Ib._ \u00a7\u00a7 74, 75.\n\n 2034 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ iii. pp. 430, 435; cf. Thiersch, _Politik u.\n      Phil. in ihrem Verh\u00e4ltn. zur Religion_, p. 9.\n\n 2035 Thiersch, _Politik und Philosophie in ihrem Verh\u00e4ltniss zur\n      Religion_, pp. 14, 15.\n\n 2036 R\u00e9ville, _Rel. unter den Sev._ p. 81.\n\n 2037 Lamprid. _Commodus_, c. 9.\n\n 2038 Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 11, 22.\n\n_ 2039 Or. Henz._ 186, 193, 228 sqq., 275, 1637, 1580, 5873, 5879, 5887,\n      1993.\n\n_ 2040 C.I.L._ vi. 110, 111.\n\n_ 2041 Or. Henz._ 6628 (fontis), 4922 (castrorum), 1704 (legionis), 1812\n      (Neronis), 3953 (Hadriani).\n\n 2042 Lamprid. _Alex. Sev._ c. 29; Spart. _Hadr._ 14, \u00a7 5; Luc. _Peregr._\n      c. 29; Friedl. _Sittengesch._ iii. pp. 454-456. Thiersch, _Pol. u.\n      Phil. in Verh\u00e4ltn. zur Rel._ p. 10.\n\n 2043 Luc. _Alex._ 19; Friedl. _Sitteng._ iii. p. 470; Thiersch, p. 19.\n\n 2044 Luc. _Deor. Conc._ 12, _\u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u1f24\u03b4\u03b7 \u03c0\u1fb6\u03c2 \u03bb\u03af\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u1fb6\u03c2 \u03b2\u03c9\u03bc\u1f78\u03c2 ...\n      \u03c7\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03bc\u1ff3\u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6_.\n\n 2045 Friedl. _Sitteng._ iii. pp 474-478; Wolff, _De Nov. Orac. Aetate_,\n      p. 29 sq.\n\n 2046 Petron. _Sat._ 61, 62.\n\n 2047 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ v. 12; iv. 5; iv. 10; vii. 5.\n\n_ 2048 C.I.L._ xii. 3070, 4316; viii. 9195; viii. 4578, Jovi, Junoni,\n      Minervae, Soli Mithrae, Herculi, Marti, Genio loci, Diis, Deabusque\n      omnibus; cf. viii. 4578; vi. 504.\n\n 2049 Luc. _Jup. Trag._ 8, 9; _Deor. Conc._ 8 sqq.\n\n 2050 Philostr. _Apoll. T._ vi. 40; Baumgart, _Aristides als Repr\u00e4sentant\n      der Soph. Rhet._ pp. 62, 84; cf. Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 5; Macrob.\n      _Sat._ i. 17.\n\n 2051 Apul. _Met._ xi. cc. 3-6.\n\n 2052 Lamprid. _Alex. Sev._ c. 29.\n\n 2053 Apul. _Apol._ c. 64 (536), totius naturae causa et ratio, summus\n      animi genitor, aeternus animantum sospitator ... neque tempore neque\n      loco neque vice ulla comprehensus, nemini effabilis; cf. _Met._ xi.\n      c. 25; Denis, _Hist. des Id\u00e9es Morales_, ii. p. 264.\n\n 2054 Thiersch, _Pol. u. Phil. in ihrem Verh\u00e4ltn. zur Rel._ p. 21, man\n      nennt den Marcus einen Stoiker.... Aber seine Dogmatik und seine\n      ganze Seelenbestimmung geh\u00f6rt schon weit mehr dem Neoplatonismus an.\n      Cf. Bussell, _School of Plato_, pp. 278-290.\n\n 2055 Sen. _De Ben._ iv. 7.\n\n 2056 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, p. 649. Cf. Sen. _Ep._ 10, \u00a7 5;\n      _Ep._ 73, \u00a7 16; _Ep._ 41, \u00a7 2; _Ep._ 63, \u00a7 7; _Ep._ 83, \u00a7 1; _Ep._\n      95, \u00a7 50; _Ep._ 102, \u00a7 28, nulla serenum umbra turbabit; _De Prov._\n      iv. 7; _De Ira_, ii. 27; _De Clem._ i. 7; _De Ben._ 1. 29.\n\n 2057 Epict. i. 9, \u00a7 7, _\u03c4\u1f78 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03b8\u03b5\u1f78\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03b7\u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u1f14\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03ba\u03b7\u03b4\u03b5\u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03b1, \u03bf\u1f50\u03ba\u03ad\u03c4\u03b9 \u1f21\u03bc\u1fb6\u03c2 \u1f10\u03be\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03ae\u03c3\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bb\u03c5\u03c0\u1ff6\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c6\u03cc\u03b2\u03c9\u03bd_: cf. i. 3, \u00a7 3;\n      Denis, _Hist. des Id\u00e9es Morales_, ii. p. 241.\n\n 2058 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, pp. 179, 184.\n\n 2059 James, _Varieties of Religious Belief_, pp. 511, 512.\n\n 2060 Bussell, _School of Plato_, p. 296.\n\n 2061 Sen. _Ep._ 41, \u00a7 2, sacer intra nos spiritus sedet.\n\n 2062 Yet cf. Zeller, iii. 1, p. 649, der g\u00f6ttliche Beistand, welchen er\n      verlangt, ist kein \u00fcbernat\u00fcrlicher. Seneca had broken away\n      unconsciously from the old Stoic idea of God, more than Zeller will\n      admit, or his words have no meaning.\n\n 2063 Sen. _Ep._ 95, \u00a7\u00a7 51, 52.\n\n_ 2064 Ib._ 107, \u00a7 9; Epict. _Diss._ iii. 24.\n\n 2065 Epict. _Diss._ iii. 20, \u00a7 11, _\u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1f78\u03c2 \u03b3\u03b5\u03af\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd; \u0391\u1f51\u03c4\u1ff7\u00b7 \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u2019 \u1f10\u03bc\u03bf\u1f76 \u1f00\u03b3\u03b1\u03b8\u03cc\u03c2\u00b7\n      \u03b3\u03c5\u03bc\u03bd\u03ac\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9 \u03bc\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03b5\u1f54\u03b3\u03bd\u03c9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd, \u03c4\u1f78 \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03b5\u03b9\u03ba\u03ad\u03c2_: iv. 1, \u00a7 89; M. Aurel. vi.\n      44.\n\n 2066 Epict. i. 16, \u00a7 20, _\u03c4\u03af \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u1f04\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf \u03b4\u03cd\u03bd\u03b1\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b3\u03ad\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u03c7\u03c9\u03bb\u1f78\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f30 \u03bc\u1f74 \u1f51\u03bc\u03bd\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd\n      \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03b8\u03b5\u03cc\u03bd; \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2067 M. Aurel. iv. 23.\n\n_ 2068 Ib._ ix. 40; Sen. _Ep._ 10, \u00a7 5.\n\n 2069 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iv. 40, _\u1f66\u03b4\u03b5 \u03b5\u1f54\u03c7\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9, \u1f66 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03af, \u03b4\u03bf\u03af\u03b5\u03c4\u03ad \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c4\u1f70\n      \u1f40\u03c6\u03b5\u03b9\u03bb\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1_. Max. Tyr. _Diss._ xi. 8, _\u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u03c3\u1f7a \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f20\u03b3\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\n      \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03cc\u03c6\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b5\u1f50\u03c7\u1f74\u03bd \u03b1\u1f34\u03c4\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03b5\u1f36\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\u00b7 \u1f10\u03b3\u1f7c \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f41\u03bc\u03b9\u03bb\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03b4\u03b9\u03ac\u03bb\u03b5\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f10\u03c0\u03af\u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03be\u03b9\u03bd \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2\n      \u1f00\u03c1\u03b7\u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2_.\n\n_ 2070 Frag._ preserved in S. Aug. _De Civ. Dei_, vi. 10.\n\n 2071 D. Chrys. _Or._ xii. \u00a7 24 (412 R); Max. Tyr. _Diss._ viii. 10.\n\n 2072 Max. Tyr. _Diss._ viii. \u00a7\u00a7 5-10; Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ vi. 19.\n\n 2073 Max. Tyr. viii. 10, _\u03bf\u1f50 \u03bd\u03b5\u03bc\u03b5\u03c3\u1ff6 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03c6\u03c9\u03bd\u03af\u03b1\u03c2, \u1f34\u03c3\u03c4\u03c9\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd,\n      \u1f10\u03c1\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd, \u03bc\u03bd\u03b7\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03c5\u03ad\u03c4\u03c9\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd_.\n\n 2074 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, p. 299 sqq.; S. Aug. _De Civ.\n      Dei_, vi. 5.\n\n 2075 Mommsen, _Hist. of Rome_, i. p. 183 (Tr.); Preller, _Rom. Myth._ p.\n      2.\n\n 2076 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, pp. 18-20.\n\n 2077 Sen. _Ep._ 117, \u00a7\u00a7 19-30; Epict. _Diss._ i. 17; M. Aurel. vii. 67.\n      But cf. viii. 13; xii. 14; viii. 3.\n\n 2078 Luc. _Hermot._ c. 25, 34, 37 sqq.\n\n 2079 \u00dcberweg, _Hist. Phil._ i. p. 232; Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii.\n      2, p. 83; Thiersch, _Politik u. Phil._ etc., pp. 15, 16.\n\n 2080 Flav. Vop. _Vit. __Saturn._ c. 8, \u00a7 2, illic qui Serapem colunt\n      Christiani sunt, et devoti sunt Serapi, qui se Christi episcopos\n      dicunt, etc.\n\n 2081 Max. Tyr. _Diss._ xiv. 8, _\u1f26 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u1f02\u03bd \u03c4\u1ff7 \u03b4\u03b9\u1f70 \u03bc\u03ad\u03c3\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u1ff7 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03b8\u03bd\u03b7\u03c4\u1f78\u03bd\n      \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f78 \u1f00\u03b8\u03ac\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b4\u03b9\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03c7\u03af\u03c3\u03b8\u03b7 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f50\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03af\u03bf\u03c5 \u1f10\u03c0\u03cc\u03c8\u03b5\u03ce\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f41\u03bc\u03b9\u03bb\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f45\u03c4\u03b9\n      \u03bc\u1f74 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03af\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c4\u03b1\u03cd\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2 \u03c6\u03cd\u03c3\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._ Cf. xvi. 9.\n\n 2082 Macrob. _Som. Scip._ i. 8; ii. 17.\n\n 2083 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 2, pp. 57-62.\n\n 2084 Sen. _Nat. Q._ vii. 32, 2, Pythagorica illa invidiosa turbae schola\n      praeceptorem non invenit.\n\n 2085 Sen. _Ep._ 49, \u00a7 2; 108, \u00a7 17.\n\n 2086 Zeller, iii. 2, p. 85.\n\n 2087 \u00dcberweg, _Hist. Phil._ i. p. 228; cf. Hatch, _Hibbert Lec._ p. 148.\n\n 2088 \u00dcberweg, _Hist. Phil._ i. p. 252; cf. Eunapius, _Vit. Iambl._\n\n 2089 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ i. 3, 1; cf. Ael. Spart. _Vit. Sev._ 18.\n\n 2090 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ i. 7.\n\n_ 2091 Ib._ ii. 38.\n\n_ 2092 Ib._ i. 11, \u00a7 16; i. 31; iv. 19, 20; iv. 41.\n\n_ 2093 Ib._ iii. 41.\n\n 2094 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iv. 13; iv. 16.\n\n_ 2095 Ib._ iv. 1, _\u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u1f10\u03c6\u03bf\u03af\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03bf\u1f31 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f10\u03ba \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u039a\u03bf\u03bb\u03bf\u03c6\u1ff6\u03bd\u03b9\n      \u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03af\u03bf\u03c5 \u03ba\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd\u1f78\u03bd \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u1f11\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f00\u03c4\u03b5\u03c7\u03bd\u1ff6\u03c2 \u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u1f78\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u1f04\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u03b1\n      \u1f84\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2, \u03bf\u1f31 \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f10\u03ba \u0394\u03b9\u03b4\u03cd\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd_.\n\n_ 2096 Ib._ iv. 41.\n\n_ 2097 Ib._ iii. 35, _\u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 (\u1f14\u03b4\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03bf\u03c4\u03ad\u03bf\u03bd) \u1f10\u03c0\u2019 \u1f10\u03ba\u03b5\u03af\u03bd\u1fc3 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2, \u03bf\u1f31 \u03c4\u1f70\n      \u03bc\u03ad\u03c1\u03b7 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03ba\u03c5\u03b2\u03b5\u03c1\u03bd\u1ff6\u03c3\u03b9_: cf. Max. Tyr. _Diss._ xiv. \u00a7 6 sqq.\n\n 2098 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ ii. 37; vi. 11; vii. 26; Max. Tyr. _Diss._\n      xiii. \u00a7 5.\n\n 2099 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ vi. 10; iv. 40; v. 12; iv. 18; iv. 44.\n\n_ 2100 Ib._ iv. 13; iii. 25.\n\n_ 2101 Ib._ vi. 19.\n\n 2102 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iv. 40.\n\n_ 2103 Ib._ iv. 22; iv. 41; v. 26.\n\n 2104 Gr\u00e9ard, _De la Morale de Plutarch_, p. 32; Volkmann, _Leben_, etc.\n      p. 37.\n\n 2105 For the apocryphal accounts, _v._ Gr\u00e9ard, p. 3 sqq.\n\n_ 2106 Vit. Anton._ c. 68, _\u1f41 \u03b3\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u03cc\u03c0\u03b1\u03c0\u03c0\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f21\u03bc\u1ff6\u03bd \u039d\u03af\u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03c7\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b7\u03b3\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c4\u03bf \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._:\n      Volkmann, p. 21.\n\n 2107 Plut. _De __\u0395\u0399__ ap. Delph._ c. 1; cf. 17; _Vit. Themist._ c. 32;\n      _Sympos._ iii. 1, \u00a7 1; ix. 14, \u00a7 2; ix. 14, \u00a7 7; i. 9; Eunap. _Vit.\n      Soph. Prooem._ 5, _\u1f10\u03bd \u03bf\u1f37\u03c2 \u1f08\u03bc\u03bc\u03ce\u03bd\u03b9\u03cc\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5 \u1f26\u03bd \u03a0\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03ac\u03c1\u03c7\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03bf\u03c4\u03ac\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\n      \u03b3\u03b5\u03b3\u03bf\u03bd\u1f7c\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b4\u03ac\u03c3\u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2_.\n\n_ 2108 Sympos._ v. 5, \u00a7 1, _Vit. Agesil._ c. 19; Volkmann, pp. 34, 63.\n\n_ 2109 Praec. Ger. Reipub._ c. 20.\n\n_ 2110 Sympos._ viii. 7, \u00a7 1, _Vit. Dem._ c. 2. In this passage he says,\n      _\u03bf\u1f50 \u03c3\u03c7\u03bf\u03bb\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f54\u03c3\u03b7\u03c2 \u03b3\u03c5\u03bc\u03ac\u03b6\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u1fec\u03c9\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9\u03ba\u1f74\u03bd \u03b4\u03b9\u03ac\u03bb\u03b5\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u1f51\u03c0\u1f78 \u03c7\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u1ff6\u03bd\n      \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b9\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u1ff6\u03bd ... \u1f40\u03c8\u03ad \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03cc\u03c1\u03c1\u03c9 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u1f21\u03bb\u03b9\u03ba\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f20\u03c1\u03be\u03ac\u03bc\u03b5\u03b8\u03b1 \u1fec\u03c9\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2\n      \u03b3\u03c1\u03ac\u03bc\u03bc\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd\u03c4\u03c5\u03b3\u03c7\u03ac\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd_. Cf. _Frat. Am._ 4.\n\n 2111 Suet. _Dom._ c. xx.; Spart. _Vit. Hadr._ c. 16, \u00a7 5, Aul. Gell. xii.\n      2; Luc. _Lexiph._ c. 20; Friedl. _Sittengesch._ iii. p. 278; Mac\u00e9,\n      _Su\u00e9tone_, p. 96; Gr\u00e9ard, _Morale de Plut._ p. 33; cf. Sen. _Ep._\n      114, \u00a7 13, multi ex alieno seculo petunt verba: duodecim tabulas\n      loquuntur.\n\n 2112 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ iii. p. 360.\n\n 2113 Plut. _De Curios._ c. 15, _\u1f10\u03bc\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5 \u1f10\u03bd \u1fec\u03ce\u03bc\u1fc3 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03bb\u03b5\u03b3\u03bf\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5 \u1fec\u03bf\u03cd\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03c2\n      \u1f10\u03ba\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f43\u03bd \u1f00\u03c0\u03ad\u03ba\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03b5 \u0394\u03bf\u03bc\u03b9\u03c4\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd\u1f78\u03c2 ... \u1f20\u03ba\u03c1\u03bf\u1fb6\u03c4\u03bf \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2114 Plut. _De Tranq._ c. 1; _Sympos._ i. 9; v. 7, \u00a7 10; viii. 1; _De\n      Cohib. Ira_, c. 1; _Sympos._ ii. 3; i. 5; cf. Plin. _Ep._ i. 9; iv.\n      5; _Ep._ i. 13; iv. 4; Tac. _Agr._ c. 2; cf. Suet. _Vesp._ c. xxii.\n\n 2115 For a description of this society, see Mahaffy\u2019s _Greek World under\n      Rom. Sway_, c. xliv.\n\n 2116 Plut. _Consol. ad Ux._ c. iv. x.; _Conj. Praec._ c. xliv.\n\n 2117 Plut. _Praec. Ger. Reipub._ c. 15; cf. _Sympos._ vi. 8, \u00a7 1.\n\n 2118 Plut. _An Seni Sit Ger. Resp._ c. 17, _\u03bf\u1f36\u03c3\u03b8\u03ac \u03bc\u03b5 \u03c4\u1ff7 \u03a0\u03c5\u03b8\u03af\u1ff3\n      \u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03b3\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c5\u03b8\u03b9\u03ac\u03b4\u03b1\u03c2_. Suidas, _\u03a0\u03bb\u03bf\u03cd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c1\u03c7\u03bf\u03c2_: cf. Volkmann,\n      p. 91.\n\n_ 2119 De Def. Orac._ c. v. viii.\n\n_ 2120 Ib._ c. ii.\n\n 2121 Trench, _Plutarch_, p. 22; Volkmann, p. 58.\n\n 2122 Plut. _Sympos._ ii. 2, \u00a7 1 (Eleusis); v. 8, \u00a7 1 (Athens); i. 10, \u00a7\n      1; ii. 1, \u00a7 1 (Patrae); iii. 1, \u00a7 1; iv. 4, \u00a7 1 (Aedepsus), _\u03c7\u03c9\u03c1\u03af\u03bf\u03bd\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u03c3\u03ba\u03b5\u03c5\u03b1\u03c3\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03bf\u1f30\u03ba\u03ae\u03c3\u03b5\u03c3\u03b9 ... \u03bc\u03ac\u03bb\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1 \u03b4\u2019 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03c7\u03c9\u03c1\u03af\u03bf\u03bd \u1f00\u03ba\u03bc\u03ac\u03b6\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2\n      \u1f14\u03b1\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2. \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u1f76 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03ac\u03c6\u03b9\u03ba\u03bd\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u1f65\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03cc\u03b8\u03b9, \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03af\u03b1\u03c2\n      \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u2019 \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u03ae\u03bb\u03c9\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd \u1f00\u03c6\u03b8\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c0\u1fb6\u03c3\u03b9, \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03bb\u03b5\u03af\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2\n      \u1f51\u03c0\u1f78 \u03c3\u03c7\u03bf\u03bb\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03b2\u1f70\u03c2 \u1f14\u03c7\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9_: cf. Volkmann, p. 57.\n\n_ 2123 Vit. Anton._ c. 28, _\u03b4\u03b9\u03b7\u03b3\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c4\u03bf \u03b3\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd \u1f21\u03bc\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c4\u1ff7 \u03c0\u03ac\u03c0\u03c0\u1ff3 \u039b\u03b1\u03bc\u03c0\u03c1\u03af\u1fb3 \u03a6\u03b9\u03bb\u03ce\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f41\n      \u1f08\u03bc\u03c6\u03b9\u03c3\u03c3\u03b5\u1f7a\u03c2 \u1f30\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f36\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd \u1f08\u03bb\u03b5\u03be\u03b1\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u03b5\u1fd6\u1fb3 \u03c4\u03cc\u03c4\u03b5 \u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03ac\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03c4\u03ad\u03c7\u03bd\u03b7\u03bd,\n      \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2124 Sympos._ ii. 2, \u00a7 1; ix. 15, \u00a7 1; viii. 6, \u00a7 5.\n\n_ 2125 De Fr. Am._ c. 16.\n\n_ 2126 Sympos._ iv. 1, 1; iv. 4, 1; v. 10, 1; v. 5, 1.\n\n_ 2127 Ib._ ix. 4, \u00a7 1; Mahaffy, _Greek World_, _etc._ p. 338.\n\n 2128 Plut. _Sympos._ viii. 2; viii. 7.\n\n_ 2129 Vit. Alex._ c. 1, _\u03bf\u1f54\u03c4\u03b5 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u1f31\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c1\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b3\u03c1\u03ac\u03c6\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u03b2\u03af\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f54\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c2\n      \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03c6\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03ac\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c1\u03ac\u03be\u03b5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03c2 \u1f14\u03bd\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 \u03b4\u03ae\u03bb\u03c9\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c1\u03b5\u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u1f22 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03af\u03b1\u03c2_. So\n      _Vit. Nic._ c. 1, _\u03bf\u1f50 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u1f04\u03c7\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u1f00\u03b8\u03c1\u03bf\u03af\u03b6\u03c9\u03bd \u1f31\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c1\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03bd\u03cc\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f24\u03b8\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u03c1\u03cc\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03b4\u03b9\u03b4\u03bf\u03cd\u03c2_.\n\n_ 2130 Vit. Pericl._ c. 12.\n\n_ 2131 Vit. Cat. Min._ c. 70.\n\n 2132 Gr\u00e9ard, _Morale de Plut._ pp. 36, 52, 67.\n\n 2133 Cf. A. Gell. xviii. 2.\n\n 2134 Plut. _De Tranq._ c. xx. _\u1f00\u03bd\u1f74\u03c1 \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f00\u03b3\u03b1\u03b8\u1f78\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f50 \u03c0\u1fb6\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u1f21\u03bc\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd \u1f11\u03bf\u03c1\u03c4\u1f74\u03bd\n      \u1f21\u03b3\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9; \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2135 Sen. _Ep._ 88, ad virtutem nihil conferunt liberalia studia; cf.\n      _Ep._ 94, 95, \u00a7 41.\n\n 2136 M. Aurel. vii. 35; ix. 41; Epict. _Frag._ lii.\n\n 2137 Zeller, _Phil. der Gr._ iii. 1, p. 720 n.\n\n 2138 A. Gell. i. 10; ii. 26; vii. 13; xii. 1; Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._\n      iv. 20; v. 16.\n\n 2139 Oakesmith, _Rel. of Plutarch_, p. 64.\n\n 2140 Plut. _Cic._ c. 4.\n\n 2141 Zeller, _Phil. der Gr._ iii. 1, p. 534, in der Hauptsache die\n      bedeutendsten Philosophenschulen \u00fcbereinstimmen, etc.\n\n_ 2142 Ib._ p. 503.\n\n_ 2143 Ib._ iii. 2, pp. 144, 145.\n\n 2144 Sen. _Nat. Qu._ vii. 32, 2; Academici et veteres et minores nullum\n      antistitem reliquerunt.\n\n 2145 Epict. _Fr._ liii.\n\n_ 2146 Sympos._ vii. 1; _Consol. ad Apoll._ xxxvi.\n\n_ 2147 e.g._ _De Gen. Socr._ xxii. sqq.; _De Ser. Num. Vind._ xxii.\n\n_ 2148 Non posse Suav. vivi sec. Epic._ c. ii. _\u03c4\u1f70 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03b1\u1f34\u03c3\u03c7\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1 \u1fe5\u03ae\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1,\n      \u03b2\u03c9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bb\u03bf\u03c7\u03af\u03b1\u03c2, \u03bb\u03b7\u03ba\u03c5\u03b8\u03b9\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u03cd\u03c2, \u1f00\u03bb\u03b1\u03b6\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03af\u03b1\u03c2, \u1f21\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03ae\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2, \u1f00\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c6\u03bf\u03bd\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 ...\n      \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03ac\u03b3\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f08\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c4\u03ad\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03a3\u03c9\u03ba\u03c1\u03ac\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03a0\u03c5\u03b8\u03b1\u03b3\u03cc\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u03af\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1\n      \u03bf\u1f50\u03c7\u1f76 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03c6\u03b1\u03bd\u1ff6\u03bd, \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u03c3\u03ba\u03ad\u03b4\u03b1\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd_: _Adv. Col._ c. ii.\n\n 2149 Trench, _Plut._ p. 93.\n\n 2150 Plut. _De Virt. Mor._ c. vii. sqq.\n\n_ 2151 Adv. Stoicos_, c. x. _\u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u1f65\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u1f41 \u03c0\u03b7\u03c7\u03cd\u03bd \u1f00\u03c0\u03ad\u03c7\u03c9\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd \u03b8\u03b1\u03bb\u03ac\u03c3\u03c3\u1fc3\n      \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03c6\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72\u03bd \u1f25\u03c4\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03bd\u03af\u03b3\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03b4\u03b5\u03b4\u03c5\u03ba\u03cc\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f40\u03c1\u03b3\u03c5\u03b9\u1f70\u03c2\n      \u03c0\u03b5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u03c3\u03af\u03b1\u03c2, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._ Cf. Sen. _Ep._ 66, \u00a7 10; Zeller, _Phil. der.\n      Griech._ iii. 1, p. 230.\n\n 2152 M. Aurel. ix. 32; xii. 32; ix. 14; xi. 1; vii. 1; vi. 46; ix. 14.\n\n_ 2153 De Tranq._ c. iii., iv., xiv., xvii.; _De Cup. Div._ iii., iv.; _De\n      Exil._ v.; _De Alex. Virt._ c. vi.; ad init.; Zeller, iii. 1. p.\n      281.\n\n 2154 Zeller, _Phil. der Gr._ iii. 1, p. 208; cf. iii. 2, p. 163; Plut.\n      _De Virt. Mor._ c. viii.\n\n_ 2155 De Virt. Mor._ l.c.\n\n 2156 Zeller. iii. 2, p. 154.\n\n_ 2157 De Virt. Mor._ vii.\n\n_ 2158 Ib._ iv. sq.; _De Cur._ i.\n\n_ 2159 De Virt. Mor._ vi.; Gr\u00e9ard, p. 78.\n\n 2160 Pl. _Phaed._ 82 B; cf. Archer-Hind, App. i. to _Phaed._\n\n 2161 Plut. _De Cohib. Ira_, i. ii.; _De Prof. in Virt._ xiii. xi. iii.\n\n_ 2162 De Prof._ iv.; _De Cohib. Ira_, ii.\n\n_ 2163 De Prof._ xvii. _\u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u2019 \u03bf\u1f35 \u03b3\u03b5 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03ba\u03cc\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2, \u03bf\u1f37\u03c2 \u1f24\u03b4\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03ac\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u1f31\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u1fe6\n      \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f30\u03ba\u03bf\u03b4\u03bf\u03bc\u03ae\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b2\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bb\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b2\u03af\u03bf\u03c5 \u03ba\u03b5\u03ba\u03c1\u03cc\u03c4\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c7\u03c1\u03c5\u03c3\u03ad\u03b1 \u03ba\u03c1\u03b7\u03c0\u1f76\u03c2\n      \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72\u03bd \u03b5\u1f30\u03ba\u1fc6 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03af\u03b5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03b3\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2164 Adv. St._ iv. vii.\n\n_ 2165 De Fato_, c. ix. (572). (Plut.?)\n\n_ 2166 Ib._ c. iv. v. _\u03bf\u1f50 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03b1\u03c1\u1ff6\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03c1\u03c1\u03ae\u03b4\u03b7\u03bd \u1f21 \u03b5\u1f31\u03bc\u03b1\u03c1\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b7\n      \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03ad\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9, \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u2019 \u1f45\u03c3\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03cc\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5_.\n\n_ 2167 Ib._ c. iv. _\u03bf\u1f55\u03c4\u03c9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f41 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03c6\u03cd\u03c3\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2 \u03bd\u03cc\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03cc\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\n      \u03c3\u03c5\u03bc\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03bb\u03b1\u03bc\u03b2\u03ac\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b7\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03c9\u03c2, \u03c4\u1f70 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u2019 \u1f15\u03ba\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1 \u1f10\u03c0\u03bf\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03c9\u03c2_.\n\n_ 2168 De Fort._ c. iii. iv.\n\n 2169 Gr\u00e9ard, p. 68 sq.\n\n 2170 Plut. _De Rect. Rat. Aud._ c. vi. _\u03b4\u03b9\u1f78 \u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6 \u1f00\u03ba\u03c1\u03bf\u03ac\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2\n      \u1f34\u03bb\u03b5\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03c1\u1fb7\u03c9\u03bd \u1f65\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u1f10\u03c6\u2019 \u1f11\u03c3\u03c4\u03af\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f31\u03b5\u03c1\u1f70\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b8\u03c5\u03c3\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03c7\u1f74\u03bd\n      \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03bb\u03b7\u03bc\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._: cf. viii. _\u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u2019 \u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1\u03c3\u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd \u1f00\u03c6\u1fd6\u03ba\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u1ff7\n      \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u1ff3 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03b2\u03af\u03bf\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03c1\u03b8\u03c9\u03c3\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2_: c. xii.\n\n_ 2171 Ib._ c. vii. viii.; cf. Sen. _Ep._ 108, \u00a7 6, magnam hanc auditorum\n      partem videbis cui philosophi schola diversorium otii sit, etc.;\n      Epict. _Diss._ ii. 23.\n\n_ 2172 De Rect. Rat. Aud._ c. ix. _\u1f45\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03cc\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 \u03bc\u1f74 \u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03bb\u03bf\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u1ff3 \u03c0\u03b9\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd\n      \u1f00\u03bd\u03c4\u03af\u03b4\u03bf\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u1f02\u03bd \u03bc\u1f74 \u03c4\u1f78 \u1f00\u03b3\u03b3\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd \u1f10\u03ba \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u1f08\u03c4\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c9\u03bb\u03b9\u03ac\u03b4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f96 \u03ba\u03b5\u03ba\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\u03bc\u03b5\u03c5\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd_.\n\n_ 2173 Ib._ c. xii.\n\n_ 2174 De Cohib. Ira_, c. i. _\u03c4\u1f78 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c3\u03c6\u03bf\u03b4\u03c1\u1f78\u03bd \u1f10\u03ba\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd\u03bf \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03b9\u03ac\u03c0\u03c5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f40\u03c1\u03b3\u1f74\u03bd\n      \u1f41\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bd\u03c4\u03af \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u1fb7\u03bf\u03bd \u03bf\u1f55\u03c4\u03c9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03cc\u03b7\u03b8\u03b5\u03c2 \u03c4\u1ff7 \u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03b9\u03c3\u03bc\u1ff7 \u03b3\u03b5\u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03b7\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u03ad\u03c1\u03c7\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\n      \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u1f78\u03bd \u03b5\u1f30\u03c0\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2175 De Rect. Rat. Aud._ c. xii.; cf. _De Prof._ c. xv. _\u03c4\u03af\u03b8\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\n      \u1f40\u03c6\u03b8\u03b1\u03bb\u03bc\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u1f44\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f00\u03b3\u03b1\u03b8\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u1f22 \u03b3\u03b5\u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03b7\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03af \u03b4\u2019 \u1f02\u03bd\n      \u1f14\u03c0\u03c1\u03b1\u03be\u03b5\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u03cd\u03c4\u1ff3 \u03a0\u03bb\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2176 Trench, _Plut._ p. 33.\n\n_ 2177 De Tranq._ c. xvi. xvii. xiv. xv.\n\n_ 2178 Ib._ c. xix. _\u1f00\u03b3\u03bd\u03bf\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f45\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u1f76 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bb\u03c5\u03c0\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u1f00\u03b3\u03b1\u03b8\u1f78\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78 \u03bc\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03c4\u1fb6\u03bd\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03cd\u03bd\u03b1\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03c4\u03cd\u03c7\u03b7\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b5\u1ff3\u03b3\u03cc\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u1f44\u03bc\u03bc\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03b2\u03bb\u03ad\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd_.\n\n 2179 Plut. _De Tranq._ c. xi. xiii. xiv. _\u1f45\u03c4\u03b9 \u1f15\u03ba\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bd \u1f11\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u1ff7 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2\n      \u03b5\u1f50\u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03b4\u03c5\u03c3\u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f14\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b1\u03bc\u03b5\u1fd6\u03b1_.\n\n_ 2180 De Prof._ c. xiv. _\u03b4\u03ae\u03bc\u03c9\u03bc\u03b1 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c0\u03c1\u1ff6\u03c4\u03b1 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f41 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f70 \u1f10\u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03cd\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1\n      \u03b6\u1fc6\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u03b5\u1f34\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b8\u03cd\u03bc\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2, \u1f03 \u03b8\u03b1\u03c5\u03bc\u03ac\u03b6\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2181 Ib._ c. i.-iv.\n\n_ 2182 Ib._ c. x. _\u1f41 \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f10\u03c4\u1f78\u03c2 \u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c6\u1ff6\u03c2 \u03bc\u03ad\u03b3\u03b1 \u1f30\u03b4\u1f7c\u03bd \u03bf\u1f37\u03bf\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03ba\u03c4\u03cc\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd\n      \u1f00\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03b3\u03bf\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd, \u1f65\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u03b8\u03b5\u1ff7 \u03c4\u1ff7 \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u1ff3 \u03c4\u03b1\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03ad\u03c0\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2183 Ib._ c. xvii.\n\n_ 2184 Ib._ c. xv.; cf. Sen. _Ep._ 11, \u00a7 8; aliquis vir bonus nobis\n      eligendus est ... ut sic tanquam illo spectante vivamus, et omnia\n      tanquam illo vidente faciamus.\n\n 2185 Plut. (?) _Consol. ad Apoll._ c. vi. vii. sqq.\n\n 2186 M. Aurel. vii. 1; vii. 19; vi. 15; _\u1f10\u03bd \u03b4\u1f74 \u03c4\u03bf\u03cd\u03c4\u1ff3 \u03c4\u1ff7 \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b1\u03bc\u1ff7 \u03c4\u03af \u1f04\u03bd \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2\n      \u03c4\u03bf\u03cd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03b8\u03b5\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u1f10\u03ba\u03c4\u03b9\u03bc\u03ae\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03b5\u03bd \u1f10\u03c6\u2019 \u03bf\u1f57 \u03c3\u03c4\u1fc6\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bf\u1f50\u03ba \u1f14\u03be\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03bd_: ix. 32;\n      cf. _Consol. ad Apoll._ c. x. _\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f97 \u03c6\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f29\u03c1\u03ac\u03ba\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2, \u03c4\u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03cc \u03c4\u2019 \u1f14\u03bd\u03b9\n      \u03b6\u1ff6\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u03b5\u03b8\u03bd\u03b7\u03ba\u03cc\u03c2_.\n\n_ 2187 Consol. ad Apoll._ c. xvii. _\u03c4\u03cc \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u1f7a \u03b4\u03ae\u03c0\u03c5\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u1f22 \u03bc\u03b9\u03ba\u03c1\u1f78\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72\u03bd\n      \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03c6\u03ad\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03b4\u03bf\u03ba\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u1f04\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u1f00\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u1ff6\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03b1\u1f30\u1ff6\u03bd\u03b1_.\n\n_ 2188 Ib._ c. xiv.\n\n_ 2189 Ib._ c. xv.; cf. Sen. _Ep._ 99, \u00a7 30; _Ep._ 36; _Ep._ 24.\n\n_ 2190 Consol. ad Apoll._ c. xxxiv. xxxv. _\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c7\u1ff6\u03c1\u03cc\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b3\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bd\n      \u1fa7 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03af\u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03b1\u1f31 \u03c4\u03bf\u03cd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03b1\u03af_: Pind. _Ol._ ii. 106 sqq.\n\n 2191 Plut. _De Virt. Mor._ c. vi.\n\n 2192 S. Aug. _De Civ. Dei_, iv. 27; vi. 2.\n\n 2193 Macrob. _Sat._ i. c. 17; cf. _Roman Society in the Last Century of\n      the W. Empire_, p. 77 (1st ed.).\n\n_ 2194 De Def. Or._ c. 2.\n\n_ 2195 De Is. et Osir._ c. lxxix.\n\n_ 2196 De __\u0395\u0399__ ap. Delph._ c. xix. _\u1f45\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u2019 \u1f45\u03c3\u03b9\u03cc\u03bd \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\n      \u1f44\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u1f61\u03c2 \u1f26\u03bd \u1f22 \u1f14\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9_.\n\n_ 2197 De Is. et Osir._ c. 54, 78; _De __\u0395\u0399__ ap. Delph._ c. 20; _Def.\n      Or._ c. 9, _ad fin._; Oakesmith, _Rel. of Plut._ p. 88; Zeller,\n      _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 2, p. 148; _De Is. et Osir._ c. 40, 66;\n      _non p. Suav._ c. 22, _\u03b2\u03bf\u03b7\u03b8\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u03c0\u03ad\u03c6\u03c5\u03ba\u03b5\u03bd, \u1f40\u03c1\u03b3\u03af\u03b6\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1ff6\u03c2\n      \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50 \u03c0\u03ad\u03c6\u03c5\u03ba\u03b5\u03bd_: _De Ser. Num. Vind._ c. iv. v. xviii.; Nitsch,\n      _De Plut. Theologo_, p. 8; Gr\u00e9ard, _Morale de Plut._ p. 263; cf.\n      Burgmann, _Seneca\u2019s Theologie_, pp. 14-20.\n\n 2198 Zeller, iii. 2, p. 152; _De Is._ c. 45-49; _De St. Rep._ c. 33.\n\n 2199 Plut. _De An. Procr._ c. 6.\n\n 2200 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 2, p. 155; Plat. _Tim._ 29, 30.\n\n 2201 Diog. Laert. ix. \u00a7 18, _\u03b3\u03ad\u03b3\u03c1\u03b1\u03c6\u03b5 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 [\u039e\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c6\u03ac\u03bd\u03b7\u03c2] \u1f30\u03ac\u03bc\u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u2019\n      \u1f29\u03c3\u03b9\u03cc\u03b4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f49\u03bc\u03ae\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5 \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03ba\u03ce\u03c0\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c4\u1f70 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03b8\u03b5\u1ff6\u03bd \u03b5\u1f30\u03c1\u03b7\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b1_: _v._\n      extracts in Ritter and Preller, _Hist. Phil._ p. 82; Plat. _Rep._\n      ii. pp. 378-380.\n\n 2202 Plut. _De Is._ c. xxiii. _\u1f43\u03c2 (\u0395\u1f50\u03ae\u03bc\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2) ... \u03c0\u1fb6\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u03b1\u03b8\u03b5\u03cc\u03c4\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03ba\u03b5\u03b4\u03ac\u03bd\u03bd\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f30\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b7\u03c2_.\n\n 2203 Plut. _De Def. Or._ c. 18, 21.\n\n 2204 Sen. _Ep._ 10, \u00a7 5; _Ep._ 41, \u00a7 1; Pers. ii. 73; Max. Tyr. _Diss._\n      xi. \u00a7 8, _\u03c3\u1f7a \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f21\u03b3\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03cc\u03c6\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b5\u1f50\u03c7\u1f74\u03bd \u03b1\u1f34\u03c4\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\n      \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\u00b7 \u1f10\u03b3\u1f7c \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f41\u03bc\u03b9\u03bb\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03b9\u03ac\u03bb\u03b5\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd\n      \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._: Martha, _Moralistes sous l\u2019Emp._ p. 163; Denis,\n      _Id\u00e9es Morales_, ii. p. 245 sqq.\n\n 2205 Of the life of Maximus of Tyre little is known. He began his career\n      as a teacher probably about 155 A.D. Like other philosophers of his\n      time, he had travelled widely. See the references to Arabia and\n      Phrygia in _Diss._ viii., _e.g._ \u00a7 8, _\u1f08\u03c1\u03ac\u03b2\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03c3\u03ad\u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd\n      \u1f45\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03bf\u1f50\u03ba \u03bf\u1f36\u03b4\u03b1\u00b7 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f04\u03b3\u03b1\u03bb\u03bc\u03b1 \u03b5\u1f36\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd, \u03bb\u03af\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f26\u03bd \u03c4\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03ac\u03b3\u03c9\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2_. Cf.\n      Zeller, iii. 2, p. 183 n.\n\n 2206 Max. Tyr. _Diss._ iv. \u00a7 7.\n\n_ 2207 Ib._ xvi. \u00a7 1, \u00a7 8.\n\n_ 2208 Ib._ xvii. \u00a7 8.\n\n_ 2209 Ib._ \u00a7 10.\n\n 2210 Max. Tyr. _Diss._ xvii. \u00a7 11.\n\n_ 2211 Ib._ xi. \u00a7 2, \u00a7 7.\n\n_ 2212 Ib._ viii. \u00a7 2, _\u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u2019 \u1f00\u03c3\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd\u1f72\u03c2 \u1f43\u03bd \u03ba\u03bf\u03bc\u03b9\u03b4\u1fc7 \u03c4\u1f78 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u1f78\u03c2\n      \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b8\u03b5\u03af\u03bf\u03c5 \u1f45\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b3\u1fc6, \u03c3\u03b7\u03bc\u03b5\u1fd6\u03b1 \u03c4\u03b1\u1fe6\u03c4\u03b1 \u1f10\u03bc\u03b7\u03c7\u03b1\u03bd\u03ae\u03c3\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf_.\n\n 2213 Chrys. _Or._ xii. \u00a7 59 (404 R).\n\n 2214 Max. Tyr. _Diss._ x. \u00a7 3, _\u1f21 \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u1f74 ... \u1f10\u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c4\u03bf \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u03bc\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03ba\u1fc6\u03c2\n      \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._ Cf. \u00a7 5, _\u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03bc\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u1f70 \u03b1\u1f30\u03bd\u03b9\u03b3\u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u1f70 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u1f70 \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03cc\u03c6\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2_.\n\n_ 2215 Ib._ x. \u00a7 3.\n\n 2216 Plut. _De Is._ lxviii.; xx.; Max. Tyr. x. \u00a7\u00a7 5-7; cf. Macrob. _Som.\n      Scip._ i. 2, 7-19; Hatch, _Hibbert Lec._ p. 55 sq.\n\n 2217 Plut. _De Is._ lxvi. _ad fin._\n\n 2218 Plut. _De Is._ c. lxvii. _\u1f65\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u1f25\u03bb\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c3\u03b5\u03bb\u03ae\u03bd\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bf\u1f50\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u1f78\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b3\u1fc6\n      \u03ba\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd\u1f70 \u03c0\u1fb6\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd, \u1f40\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03ac\u03b6\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u2019 \u1f04\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f51\u03c0\u2019 \u1f04\u03bb\u03bb\u03c9\u03bd, \u03bf\u1f55\u03c4\u03c9\u03c2 \u1f11\u03bd\u1f78\u03c2 \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\n      \u03c4\u03b1\u1fe6\u03c4\u03b1 \u03ba\u03bf\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bc\u03b9\u1fb6\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c0\u03b5\u03c5\u03bf\u03cd\u03c3\u03b7\u03c2, \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03c5\u03bd\u03ac\u03bc\u03b5\u03c9\u03bd\n      \u1f51\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03b3\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u1f76 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b3\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd, \u1f15\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u2019 \u1f11\u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u1f70 \u03bd\u03cc\u03bc\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2\n      \u03b3\u03b5\u03b3\u03cc\u03bd\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b9\u03bc\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03b7\u03b3\u03bf\u03c1\u03af\u03b1\u03b9, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2219 Ib._ c. lxi.; xxxv.; cf. Herodot. ii. c. 50.\n\n 2220 Plut. _De Is._ c. xxxv.\n\n_ 2221 Ib._ c. xx.\n\n 2222 Plut. _De Is._ c. xxiii. _\u03c0\u1fb6\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u1f00\u03b8\u03b5\u03cc\u03c4\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03ba\u03b5\u03b4\u03ac\u03bd\u03bd\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2\n      \u03bf\u1f30\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b7\u03c2_.\n\n_ 2223 Ib._ c. lxvi.\n\n 2224 Apul. _De Deo Socr._ c. vi. (133).\n\n 2225 Max. Tyr. _Diss._ xiv. \u00a7\u00a7 7, 8.\n\n 2226 Cf. Rohde, _Psyche_, ii. 361, 1. M. Aurel. v. 10, 27, _\u1f45\u03c4\u03b9 \u1f14\u03be\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03af\n      \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03bc\u03b7\u03b4\u1f72\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u1fb6\u03c4\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u1f70 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u1f10\u03bc\u1f78\u03bd \u03b8\u03b5\u1f78\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b1_: vii. 17; Epict.\n      i. 14, \u00a7 12, _\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 (\u1f41 \u03b8\u03b5\u1f78\u03c2) \u1f10\u03c0\u03af\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd \u1f11\u03ba\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u1ff3 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03ad\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5, \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u1f11\u03ba\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\n      \u03b4\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b1, \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03ad\u03b4\u03c9\u03ba\u03b5 \u03c6\u03c5\u03bb\u03ac\u03c3\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1ff7, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2227 Plut. _De Sera Num. Vind._ c. xxii.\n\n 2228 Apul. _De Deo Socr._ c. xiii.; Max. Tyr. xv. \u00a7 4; Plut. _De Def.\n      Or._ c. x.\n\n 2229 Plut _De Def. Or._ c. xvii.\n\n 2230 Max. Tyr. xv. \u00a7 3.\n\n 2231 Plut. _De Def. Or._ c. xviii.\n\n_ 2232 Ib._ c. xxi.\n\n 2233 Plut. _De Is._ c. xxv.; _De Def. Or._ c. x.\n\n 2234 Hes. _Op. et D._ 125; cf. Rohde, _Psyche_, i. p. 96.\n\n 2235 For the spiritual influences at work _v._ Lobeck, _Aglaoph._ p. 312;\n      Grote, i. p. 23; Bury, _Hist. of Greece_, p. 312; Hardie,\n      _Lectures_, p. 57.\n\n 2236 Diog. Laert. i. 27, _\u1f00\u03c1\u03c7\u1f74\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u1f55\u03b4\u03c9\u03c1 \u1f51\u03c0\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03ae\u03c3\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf, \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd\n      \u03ba\u03cc\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd \u1f14\u03bc\u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03bb\u03ae\u03c1\u03b7_.\n\n_ 2237 Heracl. Reliq._ p. 26 Bywater, _\u1f08\u03b8\u03ac\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b8\u03bd\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u03af, \u03b8\u03bd\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u1f76 \u1f00\u03b8\u03ac\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\n      \u03b6\u1ff6\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u1f10\u03ba\u03b5\u03af\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03b8\u03ac\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd, \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f10\u03ba\u03b5\u03af\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03b2\u03af\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u03b5\u03b8\u03bd\u03b5\u1ff6\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2. \u1f41 \u03b4\u1f72\n      \u1f29\u03c1\u03ac\u03ba\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03c4\u03cc\u03c2 \u03c6\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f45\u03c4\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03b6\u1fc6\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78 \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f10\u03bd \u03c4\u1ff7 \u03b6\u1fc6\u03bd \u1f21\u03bc\u1fb6\u03c2\n      \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f10\u03bd \u03c4\u1ff7 \u03c4\u03b5\u03b8\u03bd\u03ac\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._ Cf. _\u1f00\u03bd\u1f74\u03c1 \u03bd\u03ae\u03c0\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f24\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2\n      \u1f45\u03c0\u03c9\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u03c0\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u03cc\u03c2_. Ritter and Preller, _Hist. Phil._ p. 23;\n      Diog. Laert. ix. 1, \u00a7 7.\n\n 2238 Ritter and Preller, _Hist. Phil._ pp. 126, 7; Hild, _\u00c9tude sur les\n      D\u00e9mons_, p. 228.\n\n 2239 Diog. Laert. viii. 1, \u00a7 30 sqq.\n\n 2240 Pind. _Ol._ ii. 105 sqq. _\u1f14\u03bd\u03b8\u03b1 \u03bc\u03b1\u03ba\u03ac\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u03bd\u1fb6\u03c3\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f60\u03ba\u03b5\u03b1\u03bd\u03af\u03b4\u03b5\u03c2 \u03b1\u1f56\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9\n      \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03c0\u03bd\u03ad\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd\u00b7 \u1f04\u03bd\u03b8\u03b5\u03bc\u03b1 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c7\u03c1\u03c5\u03c3\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c6\u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03c7\u03b5\u03c1\u03c3\u03cc\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u1f00\u03c0\u2019 \u1f00\u03b3\u03bb\u03b1\u1ff6\u03bd\n      \u03b4\u03b5\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u03ad\u03c9\u03bd, \u1f55\u03b4\u03c9\u03c1 \u03b4\u2019 \u1f04\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1 \u03c6\u03ad\u03c1\u03b2\u03b5\u03b9_.\n\n_ 2241 Sympos._ 202 E; _Polit._ 271 D; _Phaed._ 107 D, 108 B; _Tim._ 90 A.\n\n 2242 Max. Tyr. _Diss._ xiv. \u00a7 8.\n\n 2243 Plat. _Rep._ ii. 377-380.\n\n 2244 Plut. _De Is._ c. xlv. _\u03b1\u1f30\u03c4\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c4\u1f00\u03b3\u03b1\u03b8\u1f78\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03ba \u1f02\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03ac\u03c3\u03c7\u03bf\u03b9, \u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6\n      \u03b3\u03ad\u03bd\u03b5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f30\u03b4\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f00\u03c1\u03c7\u03ae\u03bd, \u1f65\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u1f00\u03b3\u03b1\u03b8\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u1fe6, \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03c6\u03cd\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f14\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd_:\n      cf. Hatch, _Hibbert Lec._ p. 218.\n\n_ 2245 De Is._ c. xxvi. _\u1f61\u03c2 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03bc\u03b9\u03ba\u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f00\u03bd\u03ce\u03bc\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u03c6\u03cd\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f10\u03c7\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b1\u03af\u03c1\u03b5\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd_: _De Def. Or._ c. x., c. xvi.\n\n_ 2246 De Is._ c. xxv.\n\n 2247 Mr. Oakesmith thinks that Plutarch tended to identify them, _Rel. of\n      Plut._ p. 127.\n\n 2248 Tatian, _Adv. Gr._ 20; Clem. Alex. _Ad Gent._ 26; Cypr. _Ep._ 75,\n      10; Min. Felix, c. 26, 27, isti igitur impuri spiritus daemones, ...\n      sub statuis et imaginibus delitescunt, et adflatu suo auctoritatem\n      quasi praesentis numinis consequuntur, dum inspirant interim vates,\n      dum fanis immorantur ... sortes regunt, oracula efficiunt, falsis\n      pluribus involuta, etc. Cf. Tertull. _Apol._ c. xxii. operatio eorum\n      est hominis eversio.... Itaque corporibus quidem et valitudines\n      infligunt et aliquos casus acerbos, etc. Cf. _De Idol._ c. ix;\n      Maury, _La Magie_, p. 99 sqq.\n\n 2249 Aug. _De Civ. Dei_, viii. 14-22.\n\n 2250 Cic. _De Div._ ii. 57, 117, cur isto modo jam oracula Delphis non\n      eduntur ... ut nihil possit esse contemptius? Strab. vii. 7, 9,\n      _\u1f10\u03ba\u03bb\u03ad\u03bb\u03bf\u03b9\u03c0\u03b5 \u03b4\u03ad \u03c0\u03c9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78 \u1f10\u03bd \u0394\u03c9\u03b4\u03ce\u03bd\u1fc3 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03ac\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u03c4\u1f06\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1_.\n\n 2251 Herodot. viii. 134.\n\n 2252 Plut. _De Def. Or._ c. v. viii.\n\n 2253 D. Cass. lxiii. 14, _\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ad\u03bb\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5\u03bd, \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f78\n      \u03c3\u03c4\u03cc\u03bc\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd, \u1f10\u03be \u03bf\u1f57 \u03c4\u1f78 \u1f31\u03b5\u03c1\u1f78\u03bd \u03c0\u03bd\u03b5\u1fe6\u03bc\u03b1 \u1f00\u03bd\u1fc4\u03b5\u03b9, \u03c3\u03c6\u03ac\u03be\u03b1\u03c2_.\n\n 2254 Plut. _De Def. Or._ c. ii.\n\n_ 2255 De Pyth. Or._ c. xxix.; _v._ Gr\u00e9ard, p. 252.\n\n_ 2256 De Pyth. Or._ c. x. _\u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c4\u03cc \u03b3\u03b5 \u03bc\u1fb6\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u1fe5\u03af\u03c8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2\n      ... \u03bf\u1f37\u03c2 \u03c0\u03bb\u03b1\u03bd\u03c9\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c0\u1fc4\u03bd\u03c4\u1fc3\u03c3\u03b5 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03ac\u03ba\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f21 \u03c4\u03cd\u03c7\u03b7, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2257 De Pyth. Or._ c. xi.\n\n_ 2258 Ib._ c. v. xvii.\n\n_ 2259 Ib._ c. xix.\n\n_ 2260 Ib._ c. xxiii.\n\n_ 2261 Ib._ c. xxiv.\n\n_ 2262 Ib._ xxii. _\u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03c6\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c3\u03b1 \u1f10\u03bd \u03bf\u1f30\u03ba\u03af\u1fb3 \u03b3\u03b5\u03c9\u03c1\u03b3\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c0\u03b5\u03bd\u03ae\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2263 De Pyth. Or._ c. xxv. _\u03c0\u03bb\u03b5\u03af\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2 \u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u1f74\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd\u03ad\u03c0\u03bb\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5\u03bd \u1f00\u03b4\u03bf\u03be\u03af\u03b1\u03c2\n      \u03c4\u1f78 \u1f00\u03b3\u03c5\u03c1\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u1f78\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f00\u03b3\u03bf\u03c1\u03b1\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03c1\u1ff7\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c3\u03b5\u03c1\u03ac\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1 \u03b2\u03c9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bb\u03cc\u03c7\u03bf\u03bd\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03bb\u03b1\u03bd\u03ce\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03b3\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2264 De Def. Or._ c. viii.\n\n_ 2265 Ib._ c. ix. _\u03b5\u1f50\u03b7\u03b8\u03ad\u03c2 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03ba\u03bf\u03bc\u03b9\u03b4\u1fc7 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03bf\u1f34\u03c3\u03b5\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03b8\u03b5\u1f78\u03bd \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1f78\u03bd ...\n      \u1f10\u03bd\u03b4\u03c5\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03c3\u03ce\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u1f7c\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c6\u03b7\u03c4\u1f7c\u03bd \u1f51\u03c0\u03bf\u03c6\u03b8\u03ad\u03b3\u03b3\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9_; c. xlviii.;\n      _De Pyth. Or._ c. xxi.\n\n_ 2266 De Def. Or._ xlii. _\u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u1f78\u03bd \u1f65\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u1f44\u03bc\u03bc\u03b1 \u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\n      \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b5\u03be\u03ac\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f30\u03ba\u03b5\u03af\u03bf\u03c5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b5\u03c0\u03b9\u03b8\u03ae\u03b3\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2_.\n\n_ 2267 Ib._ c. x. xii. _\u03c6\u03cd\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f30\u03c3\u03af \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bd \u03bc\u03b5\u03b8\u03bf\u03c1\u03af\u1ff3 \u03b8\u03b5\u1ff6\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd,\n      \u03b4\u03b5\u03c7\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03ac\u03b8\u03b7 \u03b8\u03bd\u03b7\u03c4\u03ac, \u03bf\u1f57\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f40\u03c1\u03b8\u1ff6\u03c2 \u1f14\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u1f70 \u03bd\u03cc\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd\n      \u03c3\u03ad\u03b2\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9_: cf. Plat. _Sympos._ 202 E; Apul. _De Deo Socr._ c. vi.;\n      Max. Tyr. _Diss._ xiv. \u00a7\u00a7 2-8.\n\n_ 2268 De Def. Or._ c. xliii. _\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1f74\u03bd (\u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03b3\u1fc6\u03bd) \u03b4\u03c5\u03bd\u03ac\u03bc\u03b5\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u1fc6 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd\n      \u1f10\u03ba\u03bb\u03b5\u03af\u03c8\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c0\u1fc6 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03ad\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 ... \u03b5\u1f30\u03ba\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c3\u03c5\u03bc\u03b2\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2269 Ib._ c. xxxviii.; Maury, p. 149.\n\n 2270 Plut. _De Def. Or._ c. xlvi.\n\n_ 2271 De Gen. Socr._ c. xi. xx.; cf. Hild, _\u00c9tude sur les D\u00e9mons_, p. 263\n      sqq.\n\n_ 2272 De Gen. Socr._ c. xi. _\u1f00\u03ba\u03bf\u03cd\u03c9 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd \u03a3\u03b9\u03ba\u03b5\u03bb\u03af\u1fb3 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u1f08\u03b8\u03b7\u03bd\u03b1\u03af\u03c9\u03bd\n      \u03b4\u03c5\u03bd\u03ac\u03bc\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2 \u03c6\u03b8\u03bf\u03c1\u1f70\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b5\u03b9\u03c0\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03cc\u03bd \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2273 Plut. _De Gen. Socr._ c. xx.\n\n 2274 Philostr. _Apoll. T._ vi. 11.\n\n_ 2275 De Gen. Socr._ c. xx. _\u03b1\u1f31 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03c6\u03ad\u03b3\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f14\u03c7\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2\n      \u03b4\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bb\u03bb\u03ac\u03bc\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd, \u03bf\u1f50 \u03b4\u03b5\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u1fe5\u03b7\u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u2019 \u1f40\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb. \u03bf\u1f55\u03c4\u03c9\u03c2\n      \u03bf\u1f31 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b9\u1f70 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03c6\u03b5\u03c1\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9 \u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bd\u03b7\u03c7\u03bf\u03cd\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2\n      \u1f00\u03b8\u03cc\u03c1\u03c5\u03b2\u03bf\u03bd \u1f26\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bd\u03ae\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u1f14\u03c7\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03ae\u03bd\u00b7 \u03bf\u1f53\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f31\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03af\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd_; cf. _De Def. Or._ c. xxxvii.\n\n_ 2276 De Def. Or._ c. xxxix.\n\n_ 2277 De Def. Or._ c. xxxix.\n\n 2278 Cic. _De Nat. Deor._ i. 17, 42, \u00a7 117; ii. 28, \u00a7 70; _De Div._ ii.\n      72; Sen. _Ep._ 123; Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ i. 23.\n\n 2279 Lamprid. _Com._ c. 9.\n\n 2280 Vop. _Aurelian._ c. 35, \u00a7 3.\n\n 2281 Plut. _De Superst._ c. 5, 6, _\u1f21 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f00\u03b8\u03b5\u03cc\u03b8\u03b7\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c0\u03ac\u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03b8\u03b5\u1fd6\u03cc\u03bd\n      \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 ... \u1f21 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03af\u03b1 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03c5\u03c0\u03ac\u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1f78\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78 \u1f00\u03b3\u03b1\u03b8\u1f78\u03bd \u1f51\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c3\u03b1_.\n\n_ 2282 De Superst._ c. 3, _\u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03b7 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03bf\u1f50 \u03c3\u03c0\u03ad\u03bd\u03b4\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u1f55\u03c0\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd ... \u03b5\u1f34\u03b4\u03c9\u03bb\u03b1\n      \u03c6\u03c1\u03b9\u03ba\u03ce\u03b4\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03b1 \u03c6\u03ac\u03c3\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd\u03ac\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f10\u03b3\u03b5\u03af\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03c3\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03b2\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c3\u03b1 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u1f00\u03b8\u03bb\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03ae\u03bd_.\n\n_ 2283 Ib._ c. 4, _\u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03ac\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 \u03c4\u1ff7 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03ac\u03c4\u1ff3 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u03af\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd \u1f00\u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd_.\n\n_ 2284 Ib._ c. 6, _\u03c6\u03bf\u03b2\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03c6\u03b5\u03cd\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u1f76 \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03cd\u03c2,\n      \u03ba\u03bf\u03bb\u03b1\u03ba\u03b5\u03cd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bb\u03bf\u03b9\u03b4\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd_. Cf. Bacon\u2019s _Essays, Of Superstition_,\n      \u201cIt were better to have no opinion of God at all, than such an\n      opinion as is unworthy of Him.\u201d\n\n 2285 Gr\u00e9ard, p. 269.\n\n 2286 Luc. i. 65; iii. 991; cf. Cic. _De Div._ ii. 72.\n\n 2287 Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 24.\n\n 2288 Juv. vi. 523, 547; Mart. vii. 54; Luc. _Philops._ c. 7-13.\n\n 2289 Eurip. _Ion_, 104.\n\n 2290 Liv. xliii. 13.\n\n 2291 Cic. _De Div._ ii. 24.\n\n 2292 Tac. _Ann._ xi. 15, rettulit deinde ad senatum super collegio\n      haruspicum, ne vetustissima Italiae disciplina per desidiam\n      exolesceret.\n\n 2293 Warde Fowler, _Rom. Festivals_, p. 343.\n\n 2294 D. Cass. lii. 36, _\u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03be\u03b5\u03bd\u03af\u03b6\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03ac\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03b8\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bc\u03af\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03ba\u03cc\u03bb\u03b1\u03b6\u03b5_.\n\n 2295 Suet. _Octav._ xxxi.\n\n 2296 Cic. _De Leg._ ii. 9; Fowler, _Rom. Fest._ p. 233.\n\n 2297 Ov. _Fast._ iii. 285; Lucr. i. 131; Liv. i. 20.\n\n 2298 Val. Max. i. 3, 3; cf. Cic. _De Div._ ii. 43.\n\n 2299 Aul. Gell. iii. 10.\n\n 2300 Cic. _In Catil._ iii. 4; cf. Plut. _Vit. Cic._ c. 17.\n\n 2301 Suet. _Octav._ xciv. xcvii.\n\n 2302 Cf. D. Cass. lxvi. 9, _\u03c4\u03bf\u03cd\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5 \u1f00\u03c3\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u1f10\u03ba \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u1fec\u03ce\u03bc\u03b7\u03c2 \u1f10\u03be\u03ce\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03b5\u03bd\n      (\u039f\u1f50\u03b5\u03c3\u03c0\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd\u1f78\u03c2) \u03ba\u03b1\u03af\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c0\u1fb6\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c1\u03af\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c7\u03c1\u03ce\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2_.\n\n 2303 Suet. _Dom._ x. interemit Met. Pompeianum quod habere imperatoriam\n      genesin vulgo ferebatur.\n\n 2304 Tac. _Ann._ xii. 52; ii. 32, 75; D. Cass. xlix. 43; Suet. _Vitell._\n      xiv.\n\n 2305 Suet. _Tib._ lxix., circa deos negligentior quippe addictus\n      mathematicae, etc.\n\n_ 2306 Ib._ xiv. Yet cf. his love of mythical _nugae_, _ib._ lxx.\n\n 2307 Juv. x. 94. See the remarkable chapters in Tac. _Ann._ vi. 21-22.\n\n 2308 Tac. _Ann._ xii. 52.\n\n 2309 Suet. _Ner._ lx.; xxxiv., facto per magos sacro evocare manes et\n      exorare tentavit.\n\n_ 2310 Ib._ xl.\n\n 2311 Suet. _Galb._ xviii.\n\n 2312 Suet. _Otho_, iv.\n\n 2313 Tac. _Hist._ i. 22.\n\n 2314 Suet. _Otho_, vii. viii.\n\n 2315 Tac. _Hist._ ii. 50.\n\n 2316 Suet. _Vitell._ iii. xi. xiv.\n\n 2317 Tac. _Hist._ ii. 62.\n\n 2318 D. Cass. lxv. 1, _\u1f00\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03ae\u03b3\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03bb\u03b1\u03bd \u1f00\u03c0\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1\u03b3\u1fc6\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f10\u03ba \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b2\u03af\u03bf\u03c5 \u1f10\u03bd\u03c4\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2\n      \u1f21\u03bc\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2319 Ib._ lxvi. 9, 10.\n\n 2320 Tac. _Hist._ ii. 78.\n\n 2321 Suet. _Titus_, v. viii. ix.\n\n 2322 Id. _Dom._ xiv. xv.\n\n 2323 Suet. _Dom._ x. xiv. xv. xvi.; D. Cass. lxvii. 15, _\u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f41\n      \u0394\u03bf\u03bc\u03b9\u03c4\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u03ce\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03c4\u03ac\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5 \u1f21\u03bc\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f70\u03c2 \u1f65\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bd \u03b1\u1f37\u03c2 \u1f10\u03b3\u03b5\u03b3\u03ad\u03bd\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\n      \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03c3\u03ba\u03bf\u03c0\u1ff6\u03bd ... \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b1\u03bd\u03ae\u03bb\u03b9\u03c3\u03ba\u03b5_.\n\n 2324 Spart. _Hadr._ c. 16; cf. Renan, _L\u2019\u00c9gl. Chr\u00e9t._ c. 2.\n\n 2325 Spart. _Hadr._ c. 2, \u00a7 4.\n\n 2326 D. Cass. lxix. 11, _\u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03af\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03bc\u03b1\u03b3\u03b3\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03af\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03b4\u03b1\u03c0\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c7\u03c1\u1fc6\u03c4\u03bf\n      \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2327 Spart. _Hadr._ c. 16, \u00a7 7.\n\n 2328 Id. _M. Anton._ c. 19.\n\n 2329 D. Cass. lxxi. 8.\n\n 2330 Luc. _Alex._ c. 35, 47.\n\n 2331 M. Aurel. x. 5; ix. 27: on the Stoic belief in divination, _v._ Cic.\n      _De Div._ i. 38 (82); Zeller, _Phil. der Griechen_, iii. 1, p. 313\n      sqq.\n\n 2332 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 5, \u00a7 4.\n\n 2333 Plin. _Ep._ vii. 27.\n\n_ 2334 Ib._ i. 18, v. 5, 5; cf. Mayor\u2019s learned note on iii. 5, 4;\n      Gregorovius, _Hadrian_, p. 229 sqq.\n\n 2335 Suet. _Jul. Caes._ lxxvii.\n\n 2336 Id. _Octav._ xciii.\n\n 2337 Cf. Mac\u00e9, _Su\u00e9tone_, p. 59 sqq.\n\n 2338 Apul. _Met._ iv. 27; i. 8; cf. Petron. _Sat._ 62, 63.\n\n_ 2339 v._ Fabian, _Quid Tac. de num. div. judicaverit_, pp. 7, 13, 16,\n      21, 24, 29; Nipperdey, _Einleitung_, xiv. xxvi.; Tac. _Hist._ v. 5;\n      ii. 38; _Ann._ iii. 18; vi. 22; xiv. 12; cf. Peter, _Die Gesch.\n      Litt._ ii. p. 221.\n\n 2340 Tac. _Agric._ c. 2, 4; _Hist._ iv. 5; _Ann._ xiv. 12.\n\n_ 2341 Agric._ c. 45; _Hist._ i. 2; iii. 37; _Ann._ i. 7.\n\n_ 2342 Ann._ i. 1.\n\n_ 2343 Hist._ i. 3 _ad fin._\n\n_ 2344 Ann._ xvi. 33, aequitate deum erga bona malaque documenta.\n\n_ 2345 Ib._ vi. 22; cf. Mackail, _Rom. Lit._ p. 210.\n\n_ 2346 Hist._ i. 22, genus hominum potentibus infidum sperantibus fallax,\n      quod in civitate nostra et vetabitur semper et retinebitur; cf.\n      _Hist._ v. 4; _Ann._ vi. 28; iv. 58; cf. Fabian, p. 19.\n\n_ 2347 Hist._ ii. 50.\n\n_ 2348 Ib._ iv. 81; cf. Nipperdey, _Einl._ xxvi.\n\n_ 2349 Hist._ ii. 50; iv. 81; i. 6; i. 18; v. 13; _Ann._ i. 65; ii. 14;\n      _Hist._ iii. 56; iv. 83; cf. Fabian, _Quid Tac. de num. div.\n      judicaverit_, p. 19.\n\n 2350 Peter, _Gesch. Litt._ ii. p. 42.\n\n 2351 Tac. _Hist._ iii. 83, simul cruor et strues corporum, juxta scorta\n      et scortis similes, etc.\n\n 2352 Suet. _Nero_, c. iv. vi.\n\n 2353 Id. _Calig._ xxi. xxii. xxix. xxxiv. xxxvii.; cf. Mackail, _Rom.\n      Lit._ p. 213.\n\n 2354 Suet. _Nero_, lvii.\n\n 2355 Epict. _Diss._ ii. 7, \u00a7 10, _\u03c4\u03af \u03bf\u1f56\u03bd \u1f21\u03bc\u1fb6\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c0\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b5\u03c7\u1ff6\u03c2 \u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03cd\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9\n      \u1f04\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9; \u1f29 \u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bb\u03af\u03b1, \u03c4\u1f78 \u03c6\u03bf\u03b2\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u1f70\u03c2 \u1f10\u03ba\u03b2\u03ac\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2_.\n\n_ 2356 Ib._ _\u1f61\u03c2 \u1f41 \u1f41\u03b4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c0\u03cc\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c5\u03bd\u03b8\u03ac\u03bd\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 ... \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f41\u03b4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c6\u03ad\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9 ... \u03bf\u1f55\u03c4\u03c9\u03c2\n      \u1f14\u03b4\u03b5\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f10\u03c0\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03b8\u03b5\u1f78\u03bd \u1f14\u03c1\u03c7\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9, \u1f61\u03c2 \u1f41\u03b4\u03b7\u03b3\u03cc\u03bd_. Cf. _Ench._ 32.\n\n 2357 Warde Fowler, _Roman Festivals_, p. 72; Preller, _Rom. Myth._ (Tr.),\n      p. 381.\n\n 2358 Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ ii. p. 273, _\u1f10\u03b8\u03b1\u03cd\u03bc\u03b1\u03b6\u03b5 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u1f29\u03c1\u03ce\u03b4\u03b7\u03bd \u1f61\u03c2\n      \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03b9\u03bb\u03ce\u03c4\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u1fe5\u03b7\u03c4\u03cc\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd_: cf. _Praef. Jac. Perizonii ed. Aeliana_,\n      Gronov.; Suid. _\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f10\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03af\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd \u1fec\u03ce\u03bc\u1fc3 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1fc7 \u1f10\u03c0\u1f76 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u1f70 \u1f09\u03b4\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd\u1f78\u03bd\n      \u03c7\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd_.\n\n 2359 Ael. _Var. Hist._ xi. 13.\n\n_ 2360 v._ _Fragm. Ael. ap. Gronov._ p. 1014.\n\n_ 2361 Ib._ p. 1022.\n\n_ 2362 Ib._ p. 1024.\n\n_ 2363 Ib._ p. 1023.\n\n_ 2364 Ib._ p. 1011.\n\n_ 2365 Ib._ p. 1030.\n\n_ 2366 Fragm. Ael._ pp. 1009, 1034.\n\n_ 2367 Ib._ p. 1013.\n\n_ 2368 Ib._ p. 1049.\n\n_ 2369 Ib._ p. 1051.\n\n_ 2370 v._ Jebb\u2019s _Aristides_, _Collect. Hist._ \u00a7 vi.\n\n 2371 Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ ii. p. 253.\n\n 2372 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ iii. p. 440 sqq.; Baumgart, _Ael. Aristides\n      als Repr\u00e4sentant der Soph. Rhet._ pp. 68, 96.\n\n 2373 Baumgart rejects Welcker\u2019s view of the essentially religious\n      character of Aristides, pp. 112, 113.\n\n 2374 Baumgart, pp. 62, 102, Bald ist in der ganzen Heilungsgeschichte\n      dies die Hauptsache, dass nun sein Rhetorentum die h\u00f6chste Weihe\n      erhalten habe.\n\n 2375 Id. p. 62.\n\n 2376 Baumgart, pp. 60, 61.\n\n 2377 Id. p. 64.\n\n_ 2378 v._ c. iii. of Pater\u2019s _Marius the Epicurean_.\n\n 2379 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iii. 44; D. Cass. lxix. 22, _\u1f09\u03b4\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd\u1f78\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72\n      \u03bc\u03b1\u03b3\u03b3\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03af\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03bc\u03ad\u03bd \u03c4\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b3\u03bf\u03b7\u03c4\u03b5\u03af\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f10\u03ba\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c4\u03cc \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u1f51\u03b3\u03c1\u03bf\u1fe6_.\n\n 2380 Caton, _Temples and Ritual of Asklepios_, p. 27.\n\n 2381 Baumgart, p. 97; cf. Aristid. _Or._ p. 574 (Jebb\u2019s Ed.), 531.\n\n 2382 Aristid. _Or._ p. 530 (Jebb).\n\n 2383 Caton, p. 29.\n\n 2384 Maury, _La Magie_, p. 231.\n\n 2385 S. Hieron. in _Is._ c. lv. p. 482.\n\n 2386 Pausan. ix. 39, \u00a7 4; Max. Tyr. _Diss._ xiv. 2.\n\n 2387 Plut. _De Def. Or._ c. 41-46; Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ i. 8; cf.\n      Maury, _La Magie_, p. 237.\n\n 2388 Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 22.\n\n 2389 Max. Tyr. xvi. i.; Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ ii. 37; vi. 11.\n\n 2390 See a list in Tertullian, _De Anima_, c. 46.\n\n 2391 Strab. xvii. 17 (1052).\n\n 2392 Diod. Sic. i. 25.\n\n 2393 Cic. _De Div._ i. 58.\n\n 2394 Wolff, _De Nov. Orac. Aet._ p. 29.\n\n 2395 Caton, p. 28.\n\n 2396 Diod. Sic. i. 25.\n\n 2397 Wolff, _De Nov. Orac. Aet._ p. 31, Ejus sacerdotes fraudibus famosi\n      opportune Isidis templo Pompeiano culpae convicti sunt; ubi ipse\n      scalinam vidi secretam, etc. Maury, _La Magie_, pp. 237-8.\n\n 2398 Cf. Maury, p. 240.\n\n 2399 See a list in Caton, p. 36 sq.\n\n 2400 Caton, p. 28; Pausan. ii. 27, \u00a7 5; cf. Strab. viii. 6, \u00a7 15.\n\n 2401 Caton, pp. 40, 38.\n\n 2402 Baumgart, p. 101.\n\n 2403 Cf. Aristid. _Or._ 536-538 (Jebb, t. i.).\n\n 2404 Aristid. _Or._ 537, _\u1f1d\u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u1fb6\u03c2 \u1f20\u03c0\u03b5\u03af\u03c1\u03c9\u03c4\u03bf \u1f51\u03c0\u1f78 \u03ba\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03ac\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5, \u03c0\u03b5\u03b4\u03af\u03b1 \u03b4\u1f72\n      \u03bb\u03b9\u03bc\u03bd\u03ac\u03b6\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1_.\n\n_ 2405 Ib._ 538, _\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u03ad\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2, \u03bf\u1f31 \u1f30\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ad\u03c4\u03b5\u03bc\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u1f10\u03ba \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c3\u03c4\u03ae\u03b8\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c1\u03be\u03ac\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\n      \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u1f11\u03be\u1fc6\u03c2 \u1f04\u03c7\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03ba\u03cd\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03c9. \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2406 Ib._ 541, _\u03bf\u1f54\u03c4\u03b5 \u03b2\u03bf\u03b7\u03b8\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u03b5\u1f34\u03c7\u03bf\u03bd \u03bf\u1f54\u03c4\u03b5 \u1f10\u03b3\u03bd\u03ce\u03c1\u03b9\u03b6\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03b9\u03bb\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2\n      \u03bd\u03cc\u03c3\u03bf\u03c5. \u03c4\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b4\u2019 \u03bf\u1f56\u03bd \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03ad\u03b4\u03bf\u03be\u03b5\u03bd \u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f70\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b7\u03b3\u1f70\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f70\u03c2 \u03b8\u03b5\u03c1\u03bc\u1f70\u03c2 \u03ba\u03bf\u03bc\u03af\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9._\n      Cf. 514, _\u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._, and _Collect. Hist. ad an._ 160, in Jebb\u2019s Ed.\n\n_ 2407 Ib._ 504.\n\n_ 2408 Ib._ 554, _\u03c4\u1f78 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c3\u03c4\u1fc6\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f14\u03be\u03c9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b5\u03c9\u03b8\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c4\u03bf \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03bd\u1ff6\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u1f54\u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd\n      \u1f00\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c3\u03c0\u1fb6\u03c4\u03bf \u1f20\u03c1\u03ad\u03bc\u03b5\u03b9 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c3\u03ce\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2409 Arist. _Or._ 501-3, 506, 531, 532.\n\n 2410 Aristid. _Or._ 521.\n\n_ 2411 Ib._ 504-5, 541-2.\n\n 2412 Baumgart, p. 101; Aristid. _Or._ p. 550 (Jebb, t. i.).\n\n 2413 Aristid. _Or._ 553; Baumgart, p. 99.\n\n 2414 Aristid. _Or._ 506, 515; cf. Baumgart, p. 122.\n\n 2415 Aristid. _Or._ 505, _\u03bf\u1f31 \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f10\u03bd\u03b5\u03ba\u03ac\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd \u1f61\u03c2 \u03bb\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u1f05\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u1f10\u03c0\u1f76 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2\n      \u1f40\u03bd\u03b5\u03af\u03c1\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u1ff3, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2416 Ib._ 529.\n\n 2417 Baumgart, p. 64, und dabei entwickelte sich der Glaube, dass er dem\n      Asklepios alles verdanke, Leib, Leben, und speciell die Gabe der\n      Rede, etc.; cf. p. 68, erhebt er ihn auch als den eigentlichen\n      Verleiher und Spender seiner rednerischen Gaben, etc., p. 69, er dem\n      Gotte einen st\u00e4rkeren und bleibenden Einfluss auch auf die\n      Gestaltung seines inneren Lebens zuschreibt.\n\n 2418 Id. p. 69.\n\n 2419 Aristid. _Or._ 512, _\u03b5\u1f50\u03b8\u1f7a\u03c2 \u1f10\u03be \u1f00\u03c1\u03c7\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c0\u03b5\u03bd \u1f41 \u03b8\u03b5\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03b3\u03c1\u03ac\u03c6\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03c4\u1f70\n      \u1f40\u03bd\u03b5\u03af\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1_.\n\n 2420 Baumgart, pp. 112, 123.\n\n 2421 On his vanity _v._ Baumgart, p. 110. The most glaring example is in\n      _Or. Sac._ 4, 591-2, _\u1f10\u03be\u03b5\u03b2\u03cc\u03b7\u03c3\u03b1, \u03b5\u1f36\u03c2, \u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03c9\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03b8\u03b5\u03cc\u03bd, \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f45\u03c2 \u1f14\u03c6\u03b7, \u03c3\u1f7a\n      \u03b5\u1f36_.\n\n 2422 Artemid. _Oneirocrit._ iii. 66.\n\n_ 2423 Ib._ i. 1, _\u03b4\u03b9\u1f70 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03b5\u1f50\u03c7\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03c4\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50 \u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u1f21\u03bc\u1ff6\u03bd \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd\n      \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03ad\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03c4\u03b1 \u1f10\u03c3\u03c9\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd_.\n\n_ 2424 Ib._ Cf. Tertullian, _De An._ 46, 47.\n\n 2425 Artemid. _Oneirocrit._ _\u03bf\u1f50 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u1f00\u03c0\u1f78 \u03c0\u03b5\u03af\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u2019 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03bf\u03c3\u03c7\u03b5\u03b4\u03b9\u03ac\u03b6\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 ...\n      \u03bf\u1f55\u03c4\u03c9\u03c2 \u1f14\u03b3\u03c1\u03b1\u03c6\u03bf\u03bd_. Praef.\n\n_ 2426 Ib._ ii. 70, _ad fin._\n\n_ 2427 Ib._ i. Praef., _\u03bf\u1f50\u03ba \u1f14\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03bd \u1f45 \u03c4\u03b9 \u03b2\u03b9\u03b2\u03bb\u03af\u03bf\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03ba \u1f10\u03c4\u03b7\u03c3\u03ac\u03bc\u03b7\u03bd\n      \u1f40\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03bf\u03ba\u03c1\u03b9\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03cc\u03bd_.\n\n 2428 Artemid. _Oneirocrit._ iv. 71.\n\n_ 2429 Ib._ _\u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u1f72 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f01\u03c0\u03bb\u1ff6\u03c2 \u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9, \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u1f72 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03b1\u1f30\u03bd\u03af\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 ... \u1f10\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03b4\u1f74\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03ce\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9 \u1f44\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f21\u03bc\u1ff6\u03bd \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72\u03bd \u1f21\u03bc\u1fb6\u03c2 \u1f00\u03b2\u03b1\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd\u03af\u03c3\u03c4\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b2\u03bf\u03cd\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\n      \u03bb\u03b1\u03bc\u03b2\u03ac\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd_.\n\n_ 2430 Ib._ ii. 69.\n\n 2431 Maury, p. 241.\n\n 2432 Artemid. _Oneirocrit._ iv. Praef.\n\n_ 2433 Ib._ ii. 4.\n\n_ 2434 Ib._ i. 13, 17.\n\n_ 2435 Ib._ i. 22.\n\n_ 2436 Ib._ i. 37, 39.\n\n_ 2437 Ib._ i. 51.\n\n_ 2438 Ib._ i. 66.\n\n_ 2439 Ib._ v. 18.\n\n 2440 Artemid. _Oneirocrit._ v. Praef.\n\n 2441 Luc. _Concil. Deor._ c. 12, _\u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u2019 \u1f24\u03b4\u03b7 \u03c0\u1fb6\u03c2 \u03bb\u03af\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u1fb6\u03c2 \u03b2\u03c9\u03bc\u1f78\u03c2\n      \u03c7\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03bc\u1ff3\u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._ Cf. Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iv. 14.\n\n 2442 Cic. _De. Div._ ii. 57, cur isto modo iam oracula Delphis non\n      eduntur non modo nostra aetate, sed jamdiu, jam ut nihil possit esse\n      contemptius?\n\n 2443 Strab. ix. 3, 4, (419), _\u1f60\u03bb\u03b9\u03b3\u03ce\u03c1\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u2019 \u1f31\u03ba\u03b1\u03bd\u1ff6\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78 \u1f31\u03b5\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._:\n      vii. 7, 9, (328) (Dodona); xvii. 1, 43 (Ammon).\n\n 2444 Plut. _De Def. Or._ c. 5.\n\n 2445 Plut. _De Def. Or._ c. 8, 38.\n\n 2446 Id. _Cic._ c. 5.\n\n 2447 Tac. _Ann._ ii. 54.\n\n 2448 Suet. _Tib._ c. xiv.\n\n 2449 Id. _Calig._ c. lvii.\n\n 2450 Id. _Nero_, xl.\n\n 2451 Tac. _Hist._ ii. 78.\n\n 2452 Suet. _Tit._ c. v.\n\n 2453 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iv. 24.\n\n 2454 Luc. _Alex._ c. 29.\n\n 2455 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ iii. p. 469.\n\n 2456 D. Cass. lxiii. 14.\n\n_ 2457 v._ Wolff. _De Nov. Orac. Aet._ p. 5.\n\n_ 2458 Ib._ pp. 6, 52.\n\n 2459 Luc. _Alex._ c. 3, _\u1f40\u03c6\u03b8\u03b1\u03bb\u03bc\u03bf\u1f76 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u1f7a \u03c4\u1f78 \u03b3\u03bf\u03c1\u03b3\u1f78\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f14\u03bd\u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03bd\n      \u03b4\u03b9\u03b5\u03bc\u03c6\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2460 Luc. _Alex._ c. 4, 5.\n\n_ 2461 Ib._ c. 8, _\u1fe5\u1fb3\u03b4\u03af\u03c9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u03bd\u03cc\u03b7\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd \u03b2\u03af\u03bf\u03bd \u1f51\u03c0\u1f78 \u03b4\u03c5\u03bf\u1fd6\u03bd\n      \u03c4\u03bf\u03cd\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd \u03bc\u03b5\u03b3\u03af\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd \u03c4\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03bd\u03bf\u03cd\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd_.\n\n_ 2462 Ib._ c. 9.\n\n_ 2463 Ib._ c. 12.\n\n_ 2464 Ib._ c. 15-18.\n\n_ 2465 Ib._ c. 20.\n\n 2466 Luc. _Alex._ c. 23, _\u1f10\u03c4\u03ad\u03c4\u03b1\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf \u03b4\u1f72 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bc\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c6\u2019 \u1f11\u03ba\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u1ff3 \u03c7\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03bc\u1ff7 \u03b4\u03c1\u03b1\u03c7\u03bc\u1f74\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03cd\u2019 \u1f40\u03b2\u03bf\u03bb\u03ce_.\n\n 2467 If I am right in interpreting Lucian\u2019s statement, _\u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u2019 \u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u1f11\u03c0\u03c4\u1f70 \u1f22\n      \u1f40\u03ba\u03c4\u1f7c \u03bc\u03c5\u03c1\u03b9\u03ac\u03b4\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f11\u03ba\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u1f14\u03b8\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u1f24\u03b8\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9\u03b6\u03b5\u03bd_.\n\n 2468 Luc. _Alex._ c. 23, _\u1f05\u03c0\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f14\u03bd\u03b5\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u1f11\u03ba\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u1ff3 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u2019 \u1f00\u03be\u03af\u03b1\u03bd_.\n\n_ 2469 Ib._ c. 24.\n\n_ 2470 Ib._ c. 51, _\u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b2\u03b1\u03c1\u03b2\u03ac\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03ac\u03ba\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f14\u03c7\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5\u03bd ... \u03a3\u03c5\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u1f76 \u1f22\n      \u039a\u03b5\u03bb\u03c4\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03af_.\n\n_ 2471 Ib._ c. 30, _\u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u03cc\u03ba\u03bf\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03b8\u03b5\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c0\u03b5\u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c5\u03ba\u03ce\u03c2, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2472 Ib._ c. 31.\n\n_ 2473 Ib._ c. 32.\n\n_ 2474 Ib._ c. 30, _\u1f10\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03c4\u03ac\u03be\u03b5\u03c3\u03b9 \u1f10\u03be\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2_.\n\n 2475 Luc. _Alex._ c. 35.\n\n_ 2476 Ib._ c. 38, _\u03b5\u1f34 \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f04\u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f22 \u03a7\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f22 \u1f18\u03c0\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03cd\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f25\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac\u03c3\u03ba\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f40\u03c1\u03b3\u03af\u03c9\u03bd, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._: cf. 25, _\u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03c9\u03bd \u1f00\u03b8\u03ad\u03c9\u03bd \u1f10\u03bc\u03c0\u03b5\u03c0\u03bb\u1fc6\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03a7\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03a0\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2477 Ib._ c. 46.\n\n_ 2478 Ib._ cc. 53 sqq.\n\n 2479 Jul. Capitol. _M. Ant._ cc. 22, 17.\n\n 2480 Luc. _Alex._ cc. 36-48.\n\n 2481 Luc. _Alex._ c. 38.\n\n 2482 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ iii. 456.\n\n_ 2483 Or. Henz._ 1810, 5320; cf. Preller, _Rom. Myth._ (Tr.), p. 415.\n\n 2484 D. Cass. lxix, 11; cf. Gregorov. _Hadrian_, p. 128.\n\n 2485 Luc. _De Morte Peregr._ c. 29.\n\n 2486 Jul. Capitol. _M. Ant._ c. 18, hodieque in multis domibus M.\n      Antonini statuae consistunt inter deos penates ... sacrilegus\n      judicatus est qui ejus imaginem in sua domo non habuit.\n\n 2487 Max. Tyr. _Diss._ xiv. 8.\n\n 2488 Petron. _Sat._ 17.\n\n 2489 Herod. i. 60.\n\n 2490 Preller, _Myth. Rom._ p. 65, 66, 387.\n\n 2491 Cf. _Or. Henz._ Ind. pp. 27, 28; _v._ especially 1730 (genius\n      Jovis), 1812 (Neronis), 193 (Arvernorum), 2204 (Col. Ostiensis), 689\n      (municipii), 1704 (legionis), 4113 (pavimentariorum), 6628 (fontis).\n\n_ 2492 Or. Henz._ 2135, Sei Deo Sei Deivae Sac. etc.; 1580, Aesculapio et\n      Hygiae caeterisque diis deabusque hujus loci Salutaribus; 5902,\n      Hospitibus diis Mauricis et genio loci, etc.\n\n 2493 Cf. Tertull. _Apol._ c. 24.\n\n_ 2494 Or. Henz._ 1997-2001; cf. D. Cass. lxxvii. 15.\n\n_ 2495 Or. Henz._ 823, 1967.\n\n_ 2496 Ib._ 1959, 1986, 1954; cf. _C.I.L._ xii. 1556, 3097; viii. 9195,\n      4578, 8834.\n\n 2497 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ iii. pp. 482-4.\n\n_ 2498 Or. Henz._ 1580.\n\n_ 2499 Or. Henz._ 5689.\n\n_ 2500 Ib._ 1560.\n\n_ 2501 Ib._ 1632, 4, 7; Nymphis ob reditum aquarum, etc.\n\n_ 2502 Ib._ 5758.\n\n 2503 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iv. 16, _\u0398\u03b5\u03c4\u03c4\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u1f76 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03c4\u1f70 \u1f10\u03bd\u03b1\u03b3\u03af\u03c3\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c7\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd\n      \u1f24\u03b4\u03b7 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u1f7a\u03bd \u03b5\u03ba\u03bb\u03b5\u03bb\u03bf\u03af\u03c0\u03b1\u03c3\u03af \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9_.\n\n 2504 Friedl. _Sittengesch._ iii. p. 479.\n\n 2505 Orig. _C. Celsum_, lib. iii. p. 124, ed. Spencer; lib. vii. p. 334,\n      Friedl. iv. p. 458; S. Aug. _De Civ. D._ xix. 23, quis ita stultus\n      est qui non intelligat ... consilio simili ab impuris daemonibus ita\n      fuisse responsa, etc.; cf. viii. 22, mirabilibus et fallacibus\n      signis sive factorum sive praedictorum deos se esse persuaserunt.\n\n 2506 Herodot. vi. 86.\n\n 2507 Plut. _Non posse suav. vivi_, etc. c. 26 sq.; _De Ser. Num. Vind._\n      c. 18.\n\n 2508 Plat. _Phaed._ 85 D, _\u03b5\u1f30 \u03bc\u03ae \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b4\u03cd\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\u03c4\u03bf \u1f00\u03c3\u03c6\u03b1\u03bb\u03ad\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u1f76 \u03b2\u03b5\u03b2\u03b1\u03b9\u03bf\u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\n      \u1f40\u03c7\u03ae\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 [\u1f22] \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b8\u03b5\u03af\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u1f78\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03c0\u03bf\u03c1\u03b5\u03c5\u03b8\u1fc6\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9_.\n\n 2509 Soph. _O.C._ 1055.\n\n 2510 Sellar\u2019s _Virgil_, p. 367; cf. Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ i. 367.\n\n 2511 Cic. _Tusc._ i. 16, sub terra censebant reliquam vitam agi\n      mortuorum; cf. F. de Coulanges, _La Cit\u00e9 Ant._ p. 8.\n\n_ 2512 Or. Henz._ 4525.\n\n_ 2513 Ib._ 4433, posticum cum apparitorio, et compitum a solo pecun. sua\n      fecerunt, etc.; cf. 4353; Petron. c. 71.\n\n 2514 Marq. _Priv._ i. 367.\n\n 2515 Cf. Duruy, _Hist. Rom._ v. 637.\n\n 2516 Aesch. _Choeph._ 92, 488; F. de Coulanges, _La Cit\u00e9 Ant._ p. 16.\n\n_ 2517 Or. Henz._ 7364, 7338, 4076, 4417, 4422.\n\n_ 2518 Ib._ 4428, somno aeterno sacr. ... fecerunt sibi et suis libertis\n      libertabusque, etc., 4631, 4435.\n\n_ 2519 Ib._ 4781, 3, 5, 6, 4790, quisquis hoc sustulerit aut laeserit\n      ultimus suorum moriatur.\n\n_ 2520 Or. Henz._ 4775, 4419, 4420, 4415, 4737; T. Lollius positus propter\n      viam ut dicant praeterientes, Lolli ave, cf. 4745.\n\n 2521 Fowler, _Rom. Festivals_, p. 307.\n\n_ 2522 Or. Henz._ 4414, 4417, nam curatores substituam qui vescantur ex\n      horum hortorum reditu natali meo et praebeant rosam in aeternum. Hos\n      neque dividi neque alienari volo.\n\n_ 2523 Ib._ 4084, 4100, 4420.\n\n 2524 Marq. _Priv._ i. 362; Mau, _Pompeii_, p. 421 sqq.; cf. Cic. _Tusc._\n      i. 16.\n\n_ 2525 Or. Henz._ 4737.\n\n_ 2526 Ib._ 7396, 7402, vivite felices qui legitis.\n\n 2527 Cic. _Tusc._ i. 12, 27, quas (caeremonias sepulcrorum) ingeniis\n      praediti nec tanta cura coluissent, nec violatas tam inexpiabili\n      religione sanxissent, nisi haereret in eorum mentibus mortem non\n      interitum esse omnia tollentem, etc.\n\n 2528 Aelian, _Fr._ p. 1023 (Gronov.).\n\n 2529 S. Paulin. Nol. _Carm._ 27; S. Aug. _Ep._ 22, _Serm._ v. xvii.; cf.\n      Sidon. Apoll. v. 17; Bingham, _Antiq. of Chr. Church_, ii. p. 1165.\n\n 2530 Fowler, _Rom. Festivals_, p. 108.\n\n_ 2531 Or. Henz._ 4775, horis nocturnis ut eum videam, et possim dulcius\n      et celerius aput eum pervenire.\n\n_ 2532 Ib._ 7346.\n\n 2533 Marq. _Priv._ i. pp. 438-9; Preller, _Rom. Myth._ (Tr.), p. 331.\n\n 2534 Momms. _Rom. Hist._ i. p. 189; Tertull. _Apol._ xv. vidimus et Jovis\n      fratrem gladiatorum cadavera cum malleo deducentem.\n\n 2535 Fowler, _Rom. Festivals_, p. 211.\n\n 2536 Luc. _Philops._ c. 6.\n\n_ 2537 Ib._ c. 16.\n\n_ 2538 Ib._ cc. 22-24.\n\n_ 2539 Ib._ c. 27.\n\n 2540 Plut. _Cim._ c. 1, _\u1f10\u03c0\u1f76 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u1f7a\u03bd \u03c7\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u1f30\u03b4\u03ce\u03bb\u03c9\u03bd \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd \u03c4\u1ff7 \u03c4\u03cc\u03c0\u1ff3\n      \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c6\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd, \u1f61\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f31 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f21\u03bc\u1ff6\u03bd \u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2541 Plin. _Ep._ vii. 27.\n\n 2542 Suet. _Calig._ c. 59.\n\n 2543 D. Cass. lxii. 17.\n\n 2544 Lobeck, _Aglaoph._ i. p. 221.\n\n 2545 D. Cass. lvii. 15.\n\n 2546 Suet. _Nero_, c. xxxiv.\n\n 2547 Max. Tyr. xv. 7.\n\n 2548 Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ i. p. 316.\n\n_ 2549 Ib._ p. 279; cf. Conington, _Introd. Aen._ vi. p. 419; Rohde,\n      _Psyche_, ii. p. 165.\n\n 2550 Grote, ii. p. 518 (ed. 1862).\n\n 2551 Mommsen, _R. Hist._ i. p. 187; Preller, _Rom. Myth._ pp. 197, 407,\n      438.\n\n_ 2552 Aen._ vi. 289.\n\n_ 2553 Ib._ 313, 416.\n\n_ 2554 Ib._ 441.\n\n_ 2555 Ib._ 472.\n\n_ 2556 Ib._ 555.\n\n_ 2557 Ib._ 600.\n\n_ 2558 Ib._ 608.\n\n_ 2559 Aen._ 640; cf. Pind. _Ol._ ii. 130.\n\n_ 2560 Aen._ vi. 645.\n\n_ 2561 Ib._ 748; cf. Conington\u2019s _Virg. Introd. Aen._ vi. p. 419; Lobeck,\n      _Aglaoph._ ii. 798.\n\n 2562 Diog. Laert. _Vit. Pythag._ viii. 1, \u00a7 14; _\u03c0\u03c1\u1ff6\u03c4\u03cc\u03bd \u03c4\u03ad \u03c6\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\n      \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03c6\u1fc6\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u1f74\u03bd \u03ba\u03cd\u03ba\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03ac\u03b3\u03ba\u03b7\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bc\u03b5\u03af\u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u1f04\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03c4\u2019 \u1f04\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bd\u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9\n      \u03b6\u1ff4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2_: S. Aug. _De Civ. D._ vii. 6; cf. Liebaldt, _Theolog. Varr._\n      i. p. 14; Cic. _Rep._ vi. 15-25; Macrob. _Som. Scip._ i. 14.\n\n 2563 Rohde, _Psyche_, ii. 161, n. 1, 34, 312; Cic. _De N. D._ i. 11, 27;\n      Pythagoras qui censuit animum esse per naturam rerum omnem intentum\n      et commeantem, ex quo nostri animi carperentur, etc.\n\n_ 2564 Aen._ vi. 756 sqq.\n\n_ 2565 C.I.L._ iv. 2361, 1982; Mau, _Pompeii_, 486-8; Friedl. iii. p. 300.\n\n 2566 Sen. _Ad. Marc._ xix. 4; Cic. _Tusc._ i. 21, 48; Juv. xiii. 48;\n      Plut. _De Superst._ c. 4.\n\n 2567 Luc. _De Luctu_, cc. 1-10.\n\n 2568 Plut. _Non p. Suav._ c. 27.\n\n 2569 Id. _De. Ser. Num. Vind._ iv. 44; _De Gen. Socr._ c. 22.\n\n 2570 Luc. _De Luctu_, c. 10; Friedl. iii. p. 632; Rohde, _Psyche_, i. p.\n      306, n. 3; Maury, _La Magie_, p. 158.\n\n_ 2571 Or. Henz._ 4443.\n\n_ 2572 Ib._ 1197.\n\n_ 2573 Ib._ 2982.\n\n_ 2574 Ib._ 4433, 4416, 4417.\n\n_ 2575 Ib._ 4662, 4755.\n\n_ 2576 Or. Henz._ 4581, 4841, 4849, 4701, 7352.\n\n_ 2577 Ib._ 7392.\n\n_ 2578 Rel. Rom._ i. 342.\n\n_ 2579 Or. Henz._ 1192.\n\n_ 2580 Ib._ 7387, 4809, 4810, 4811, 4807, 4813, vixi dum vixi bene; jam\n      mea peracta mox vestra agetur fabula; velete et plaudite, 7411.\n\n_ 2581 Or. Henz._ 4806, 7; 4; 4816, hic secum habet omnia. Balnea, vina,\n      venus corrumpunt corpora nostra, set vitam faciunt.\n\n_ 2582 Ib._ 7407.\n\n_ 2583 C.I.L._ ii. 1877.\n\n_ 2584 Or. Henz._ 6674, dum vixi bi(bi) libenter; bibite vos qui vivitis.\n\n_ 2585 Ib._ 7410\u2014miscete Lyaeum, etc., caetera post obitum tellus consumit\n      et ignis.\n\n 2586 Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ i. 312-316; Thiersch, _Politik und Phil. in\n      ihrem Verh\u00e4ltn. zur Rel._ p. 13.\n\n 2587 Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ i. 310.\n\n 2588 Lucret. iii. 952, 991.\n\n_ 2589 Ib._ 844 sqq.\n\n 2590 Plut. (?) _De Plac. Phil._ iv. 7, _\u03bf\u1f31 \u03a3\u03c4\u03c9\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u1f76 \u1f10\u03be\u03b9\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u1f10\u03ba \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd\n      \u03c3\u03c9\u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u1f51\u03c0\u03bf\u03c6\u03ad\u03c1\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9, \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f00\u03c3\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd \u1f05\u03bc\u03b1 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03c3\u03c5\u03b3\u03ba\u03c1\u03af\u03bc\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\n      \u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03ad\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9\u00b7 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f30\u03c3\u03c7\u03c5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd, \u03bf\u1f35\u03b1 \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u1f76 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03bf\u03cd\u03c2, \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bc\u03ad\u03c7\u03c1\u03b9\n      \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u1f10\u03ba\u03c0\u03c5\u03c1\u03ce\u03c3\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2_.\n\n 2591 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, p. 185; Cic. _Tusc._ i. 32, 79.\n\n 2592 Zeller, iii. 1, p. 711, keine Seelenth\u00e4tigkeit ist ohne k\u00f6rperliche\n      Bewegung m\u00f6glich; Renan, _Averro\u00e8s_, pp. 128 sq., 418; Rohde,\n      _Psyche_, ii. p. 309.\n\n 2593 Cf. Graham, _Creed of Science_ (2nd ed.), p. 183, \u201cThe poets must\n      count for much in the argument, since they possess in higher degree\n      than others the great creative faculty of imagination which outlines\n      the province of the possible\u201d; Jowett, _Plato_, i. pp. 389 sqq.,\n      etc.\n\n 2594 Sall. _Catil._ c. 51.\n\n 2595 Plin. _H. N._ vii. 55, 188.\n\n 2596 Cf. Plut. (?) _Cons. ad Apoll._ c. xii. xiii.\n\n 2597 Sen. _Ad Marc._ c. xix.\n\n 2598 Sen. _Ep._ 54, 99, \u00a7 30; _De Prov._ vi. \u00a7 6; _Ad Marc._ 25.\n\n 2599 Quint. _Inst._ v. 14, 13, cum, soluta corpore anima an sit\n      immortalis vel ad tempus certe maneat, sit in dubio.\n\n 2600 Tac. _Agric._ c. 46; cf. Rohde, _Psyche_, ii. p. 318, n. 3.\n\n 2601 Spart. _Hadr._ c. 13, \u00a7 3; 14, \u00a7 3; 17, \u00a7 9; cf. Gregorovius, p.\n      303.\n\n 2602 Spart. _Hadr._ 13, \u00a7 1.\n\n_ 2603 Ib._ c. 15, \u00a7 12; 16, \u00a7 8.\n\n 2604 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, p. 660 n.\n\n 2605 Epict. _Diss._ iii. 6, \u00a7 10.\n\n 2606 A. Gell. xv. 11.\n\n 2607 Ael. Spart. _Hadr._ c. 16.\n\n 2608 Epict. _Diss._ iv. 5, \u00a7 17.\n\n 2609 M. Aurel. i. 7, _\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78 \u1f10\u03bd\u03c4\u03c5\u03c7\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u1f18\u03c0\u03b9\u03ba\u03c4\u03b7\u03c4\u03b5\u03af\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f51\u03c0\u03bf\u03bc\u03bd\u03ae\u03bc\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f67\u03bd\n      \u03bf\u1f34\u03ba\u03bf\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03ad\u03b4\u03c9\u03ba\u03b5_.\n\n 2610 Epict. _Diss._ ii. 1, \u00a7 17.\n\n_ 2611 Ib._ iii. 24, \u00a7 93; cf. M. Aurel. iv. 14, 21, and Rohde, _Psyche_,\n      ii. 330.\n\n 2612 Epict. _Diss._ iii. 13, \u00a7 15.\n\n_ 2613 Ib._ \u00a7 14, _\u1f45\u03c4\u03b1\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u03bc\u1f74 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03ad\u03c7\u1fc3 \u03c4\u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03b3\u03ba\u03b1\u1fd6\u03b1, \u03c4\u1f78 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03ba\u03bb\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u1f78\u03bd \u03c3\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9,\n      \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03b8\u03cd\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd \u1f24\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03be\u03b5, \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9 \u03c3\u03bf\u03b9, \u1f1c\u03c1\u03c7\u03bf\u03c5, \u03a0\u03bf\u1fe6; \u0395\u1f30\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72\u03bd \u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03cc\u03bd\u00b7 \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u2019\n      \u1f45\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u1f10\u03b3\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5, \u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03c6\u03af\u03bb\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c3\u03c5\u03b3\u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u1fc6, \u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c7\u03b5\u1fd6\u03b1_.\n\n_ 2614 Diss._ i. 9, \u00a7 14, _\u1f04\u03c6\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f21\u03bc\u1fb6\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c0\u03b5\u03bb\u03b8\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u1f45\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u1f10\u03bb\u03b7\u03bb\u03cd\u03b8\u03b1\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2615 \u00dcberweg, _Hist. Phil._ i. p. 237.\n\n 2616 Zeller, iii. 1, p. 735.\n\n_ 2617 Phaedo_, 86 B.\n\n 2618 Zeller, iii. 1, p. 740; \u00dcberweg, _Hist. Phil._ i. p. 237.\n\n 2619 Jul. Capit. _M. Ant._ c. 13; c. 21; cf. Merivale, _Rom. Hist._ viii.\n      pp. 335-6.\n\n 2620 M. Aurel. vii. 67; Zeller, iii. 1, p. 677.\n\n 2621 M. Arnold, _Essays in Criticism_, p. 427.\n\n 2622 M. Aurel. iii. 3, _\u03b5\u1f30 \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f10\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03b7\u03c3\u03af\u1fb3, \u03c0\u03b1\u03cd\u03c3\u1fc3 \u03c0\u03cc\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f21\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd\u1ff6\u03bd\n      \u1f00\u03bd\u03b5\u03c7\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2, \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bb\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03b5\u03cd\u03c9\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u03cd\u03c4\u1ff3 \u03c7\u03b5\u03af\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03b9 \u03c4\u1ff7 \u1f00\u03b3\u03b3\u03b5\u03af\u1ff3 \u1f22 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03af\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c4\u1f78\n      \u1f51\u03c0\u03b7\u03c1\u03b5\u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd_: Rohde, _Psyche_, ii. pp. 327-28.\n\n 2623 ix. 3, _\u03bf\u1f55\u03c4\u03c9\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bd\u03b4\u03ad\u03c7\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u1f65\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd \u1f93 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03ac\u03c1\u03b9\u03cc\u03bd \u03c3\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u1f10\u03bb\u03cd\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\n      \u03c4\u03bf\u03cd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u1f10\u03ba\u03c0\u03b5\u03c3\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9_.\n\n 2624 xii. 30-32.\n\n 2625 vi. 42, 47; ix. 29, 32; vi. 15; vii. 19; vi. 36, _\u03c0\u1fb6\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78 \u1f10\u03bd\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u1f7c\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\n      \u03c7\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5, \u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03b3\u03bc\u1f74 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b1\u1f30\u1ff6\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2_: Rohde, _Psyche_, ii. p. 147.\n\n 2626 M. Aurel. vi. 49, _\u03bc\u03ae\u03c4\u03b9 \u03b4\u03c5\u03c3\u03c7\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f45\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c3\u1ff6\u03bd\u03b4\u03ad \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03bb\u03b9\u03c4\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bd \u03b5\u1f36 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03bf\u1f50 \u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u03c3\u03af\u03c9\u03bd; \u03bf\u1f55\u03c4\u03c9 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f45\u03c4\u03b9 \u03bc\u03ad\u03c7\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c3\u1ff6\u03bd\u03b4\u03b5 \u1f10\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03b2\u03b9\u03c9\u03c4\u03ad\u03bf\u03bd \u03c3\u03bf\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bf\u1f50\n      \u03bc\u03ad\u03c7\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03bb\u03b5\u03af\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2_.\n\n 2627 M. Aurel. ix. 32, _\u1f00\u03c7\u03b1\u03bd\u1f72\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78 \u03c4\u1f74\u03c2 \u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03ad\u03c3\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2 \u1f61\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u1f70 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd\n      \u03b4\u03b9\u03ac\u03bb\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f41\u03bc\u03bf\u03af\u03c9\u03c2 \u1f04\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd_.\n\n_ 2628 Ib._ vi. 36, _\u1f21 \u1f08\u03c3\u03af\u03b1, \u1f21 \u0395\u1f50\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03b7, \u03b3\u03c9\u03bd\u03af\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03ba\u03cc\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u03c5 ... \u0391\u03b8\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b2\u03c9\u03bb\u03ac\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd\n      \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03ba\u03cc\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u03c5_.\n\n_ 2629 Ib._ vii. 35.\n\n_ 2630 Ib._ x. 33; v. 11; v. 27.\n\n_ 2631 Ib._ xi. 1.\n\n_ 2632 Ib._ vi. 16; vi. 2; vi. 51; vii. 21, _\u1f10\u03b3\u03b3\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f21 \u03c3\u1f74 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\n      \u03bb\u03ae\u03b8\u03b7 \u1f10\u03b3\u03b3\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f21 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03c3\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03bb\u03ae\u03b8\u03b7_.\n\n_ 2633 Ib._ xi. 1; vii. 1.\n\n 2634 M. Aurel. vi. 46, 47; vii. 3; ix. 30.\n\n_ 2635 Ib._ vi. 47; cf. Luc. _Icaromenippus_, c. 18; _Traj. sive Tyr._ c.\n      8; _Charon_, c. 17; _Menip._ c. 15, _\u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u2019 \u1f45\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03b1 \u03c4\u1f70 \u1f40\u03c3\u03c4\u1fb6 \u1f26\u03bd, \u1f04\u03b4\u03b7\u03bb\u03b1\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b5\u03c0\u03af\u03b3\u03c1\u03b1\u03c6\u03b1 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2636 M. Aurel. vii. 19, _\u03b4\u03b9\u1f70 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f45\u03bb\u03c9\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03c3\u03af\u03b1\u03c2, \u1f61\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b9\u1f70 \u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03bc\u03ac\u03c1\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5,\n      \u03b4\u03b9\u03b5\u03ba\u03c0\u03bf\u03c1\u03b5\u03cd\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03c3\u03ce\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1_. Cf. ix. 29, _\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03bc\u03ac\u03c1\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u1f21 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\n      \u03b1\u1f30\u03c4\u03af\u03b1\u00b7 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c6\u03ad\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9_.\n\n_ 2637 Ib._ vii. 49; vii. 1; ix. 14; x. 23; xi. 1.\n\n 2638 M. Aurel. iv. 32.\n\n_ 2639 Ib._ xi. 1.\n\n_ 2640 Ib._ ix. 29, _\u03bc\u03b7\u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03a0\u03bb\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b9\u03c4\u03b5\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u1f14\u03bb\u03c0\u03b9\u03b6\u03b5, \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u2019 \u1f00\u03c1\u03ba\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b5\u1f30 \u03c4\u1f78\n      \u03b2\u03c1\u03b1\u03c7\u03cd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u03cc\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9_.\n\n_ 2641 Ib._ vii. 47; ix. 34.\n\n 2642 Sen. _Ep._ 109, \u00a7 9.\n\n 2643 Sen. _Ep._ 57, \u00a7 7.\n\n_ 2644 Ib._ 73, \u00a7 16; _Ep._ 83.\n\n 2645 Id. _De Prov._ iv. \u00a7 7, quos amat indurat, exercet.\n\n 2646 Id. _De Ben._ iv. 4; _De Ira_, ii. 27.\n\n 2647 Sen. _Ep._ 65, \u00a7 22; 102, \u00a7 26; _Ad__ Helv._ 11, \u00a7 7; _Ad Marc._ 24,\n      \u00a7 5. Cf. Plat. _Phaed._ 83 C, D. Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ vi. 11;\n      vii. 26.\n\n 2648 Plat. _Phaed._ 79 C; 81 A.\n\n 2649 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, p. 185.\n\n 2650 Sen. _Ad Marc._ c. 19, 20; cf. Plut. (?) _Consol. ad Apoll._ c. 15,\n      _\u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03bf\u1f56\u03bd \u03c4\u03ac\u03be\u03b9\u03bd \u03bf\u1f31 \u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03c5\u03c4\u03ae\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03af\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u1fc7 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2\n      \u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03ad\u03c3\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2_: cf. _ib._ c. 34.\n\n 2651 Sen. _Ep._ 36; 71, \u00a7 12; _Ad Marc._ 19, \u00a7 4. Cf. Rohde, _Psyche_,\n      ii. p. 328.\n\n 2652 Sen. _Ep._ 102, \u00a7 21.\n\n_ 2653 Ep._ 120, \u00a7 14; 102, \u00a7 28, aliquando naturae tibi arcana\n      retegentur: discutietur ista caligo ... nulla serenum umbra\n      turbabit, cf. Rohde, _Psyche_, ii. p. 328, n. 4. Rohde, like Zeller,\n      seems to me not to recognise sufficiently how far Seneca has\n      departed from the old Stoicism.\n\n_ 2654 Ep._ 26, \u00a7 5; _Ad Marc._ xxv.\n\n 2655 See the apocryphal letters, p. 477, of Haase\u2019s ed. of Sen.; cf.\n      Lightfoot, _S. Paul\u2019s Ep. to the Philippians_, p. 268 sqq. Zeller,\n      _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 1, p. 637, n. 1; Baur, _Ch. Hist._ i. p.\n      16.\n\n 2656 Sen. _Ep._ 108, \u00a7 17; cf. Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ i. 7, 8.\n\n 2657 Sen. _Nat. Qu._ vii. 32, \u00a7 2, Pythagorica illa invidiosa turbae\n      schola praeceptorem non invenit.\n\n 2658 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 2, p. 95.\n\n 2659 Herodot. ii. 123.\n\n 2660 Herodotus never mentions Orpheus, but speaks of _\u03c4\u1f70 \u1f48\u03c1\u03c6\u03b9\u03ba\u03ac_, ii. 81;\n      nor do the schol. on Homer allude to him (Lob. _Aglaoph._ i. p. 540;\n      cf. _Aglaoph._ p. 255 sqq.). His existence was denied by Aristotle\n      (Cic. _De Nat. Deor._ 1. 38, 108). Plato seems to be as assured of\n      it as Iamblichus, _Cratyl._ 402; cf. Iambl. _Pythag._ 145, 243.\n\n 2661 Iambl. _Pythag._ 151; Lobeck, _Aglaoph._ i. p. 238.\n\n 2662 Cic. _De Leg._ ii. 14, 36, neque solum cum laetitia vivendi rationem\n      accepimus, sed etiam cum spe meliore moriendi.\n\n 2663 Plut. _Cons. ad Ux._ c. 10.\n\n 2664 Plat. _Phaed._ 70 C; 69 C.\n\n 2665 Plat. _Rep._ ii. 364 B.\n\n 2666 Cf. Gardner and Jevons, p. 268, who think the ceremonies never were\n      indecent. Rohde, i. p. 289.\n\n 2667 Herodot. ii. 81; Iambl. _Pythag._ 151; Rohde, _Psyche_, ii. p. 103.\n\n 2668 Baur, _Ch. Hist._ ii. p. 178.\n\n 2669 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 2, p. 99.\n\n 2670 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ i. 7, 8; cf. Sen. _Ep._ 108, \u00a7\u00a7 17-20.\n\n 2671 Zeller, iii. 2, p. 122.\n\n 2672 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ i. 2; cf. Zeller, iii. 2, p. 134, n.; Baur,\n      _Ch. Hist._ ii. pp. 174, 206.\n\n 2673 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ iv. 20; iii. 41; i. 11, 16; vi. 40.\n\n 2674 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ ii. 37; vi. 11.\n\n_ 2675 Ib._ iv. 16.\n\n_ 2676 Ib._ iv. 16.\n\n_ 2677 Ib._ viii. 31, _\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72, \u1f61\u03c2 \u1f00\u03b8\u03ac\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f34\u03b7, \u1f10\u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03cc\u03c6\u03b5\u03b9 \u1f14\u03c4\u03b9\n      \u03b4\u03b9\u03b4\u03ac\u03c3\u03ba\u03c9\u03bd \u03bc\u1f74\u03bd \u1f45\u03c4\u03b9 \u1f00\u03bb\u03b7\u03b8\u1f74\u03c2 \u1f41 \u1f51\u03c0\u1f72\u03c1 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2, \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03c5\u03c0\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u03bc\u1f74\n      \u03be\u03c5\u03b3\u03c7\u03c9\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c4\u1f70 \u1f66\u03b4\u03b5 \u03bc\u03b5\u03b3\u03ac\u03bb\u03b1_.\n\n 2678 Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ viii. 31, _\u1f22 \u03c4\u1f76 \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u1f70 \u03b6\u1ff3\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd \u1f10\u1f7c\u03bd \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd\u03b4\u03b5\n      \u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u03cd\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2;_\n\n 2679 Plut. (?) _Consol. ad Apoll._ c. 34; cf. c. 15.\n\n_ 2680 Ib._ c. 7 sqq.\n\n_ 2681 Ib._ c. 36, _\u03c4\u03b5\u03b8\u03bd\u03b5\u1ff6\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03ba\u03c1\u03af\u03bd\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2682 Consol. ad Ux._ c. 3.\n\n_ 2683 Consol. ad Ux._ c. 4, 6.\n\n_ 2684 Consol. ad Apoll._ c. 17-24.\n\n_ 2685 De Ser. Num. Vind._ c. 18 (561 A).\n\n_ 2686 Ib._ _\u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u03ad\u03bd \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f21\u03bc\u1fb6\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03b6\u1ff6\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u2019 \u1f00\u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03bb\u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03ac\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd_.\n\n_ 2687 Non p. Suav._ c. 26, 27.\n\n_ 2688 Ib._ c. 23 (1103).\n\n_ 2689 Non. p. Suav._ c. 30, 26.\n\n_ 2690 Ib._ c. 27, _\u03b4\u03b9\u2019 \u1f23\u03bd \u1f40\u03bb\u03af\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b4\u03ad\u03c9 \u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03ac\u03c3\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f36\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\n      \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b8\u03cd\u03bc\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03c4\u1ff7 \u039a\u03b5\u03c1\u03b2\u03ad\u03c1\u1ff3 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03b4\u03ac\u03ba\u03bd\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f45\u03c0\u03c9\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bd \u03c4\u1ff7 \u03b5\u1f36\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03c9\u03c3\u03b9 \u03bc\u03b7\u03b4\u2019\n      \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03b5\u03b8\u1ff6\u03c3\u03b9_.\n\n_ 2691 Ib._ c. 28.\n\n_ 2692 Ib._ c. 28, _\u1f21\u03bb\u03af\u03ba\u03b7\u03c2 \u1f11\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03c7\u03b1\u03c1\u1fb6\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c3\u03b9 ... \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03c6\u03af\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd\n      \u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03c6\u03af\u03bb\u03b7\u03bd \u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u03af \u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u1fd6\u03ba\u03b1 \u03c7\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03b8\u1f74\u03bd \u1f44\u03c8\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bc\u1f74\n      \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03b4\u03bf\u03ba\u1ff6\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u03bc\u03b7\u03b4\u2019 \u1f14\u03c7\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bb\u03c0\u03af\u03b4\u03b1 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u1f41\u03bc\u03b9\u03bb\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f10\u03ba\u03b5\u03af\u03bd\u03b7\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03cd\u03bd\u03b7\u03c2 \u1f23\u03bd \u1f14\u03c7\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03bf\u1f31 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1f70 \u03a0\u03c5\u03b8\u03b1\u03b3\u03cc\u03c1\u1fb3 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03a0\u03bb\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\u03b9 \u03b4\u03bf\u03be\u03ac\u03b6\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2_.\n\n_ 2693 Consol. ad Apoll._ c. 36.\n\n_ 2694 De Ser. Num. Vind._ c. 16: cf. Gr\u00e9ard, _De la Morale de Plut._ p.\n      283; Oakesmith, _Rel. of Plut._ p. 111 sqq.\n\n_ 2695 De Ser. N. Vind._ v. c. 17, _\u03b5\u1f37\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f56\u03bd, \u1f14\u03c6\u03b7\u03bd, \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f41 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd\n      \u03c0\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u1f74\u03bd \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03af\u03bd\u03b7\u03c2 \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03b2\u03b5\u03b2\u03b1\u03b9\u1ff6\u03bd, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2696 Ib._ c. 17 (560 F).\n\n_ 2697 Ib._ c. 17, ad fin.\n\n 2698 Rohde, _Psyche_, ii. pp. 275, 279; Jowett\u2019s _Plato_, i. p. 396; Pl.\n      _Phaed._ 85 C, D; 60 B, C; 69 C; _Meno_ 81 A; _Phaed._ 114 D, _\u03c4\u1f78\n      \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03bf\u1f56\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03b1\u1fe6\u03c4\u03b1 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b9\u03c3\u03c7\u03c5\u03c1\u03af\u03c3\u03b1\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bf\u1f55\u03c4\u03c9\u03c2 \u1f14\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd, \u03bf\u1f50 \u03c0\u03c1\u03ad\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9 \u03bd\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd \u1f14\u03c7\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\n      \u1f00\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u03af, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2699 Plut. _De Ser. Num. Vind._ c. 22 (563 C).\n\n_ 2700 Ib._ _\u03b5\u1f36\u03c4\u03b1 \u1fe5\u03b7\u03b3\u03bd\u03c5\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b7\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c4\u03c1\u03ad\u03bc\u03b1 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bc\u03c6\u03cc\u03bb\u03c5\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2, \u1f10\u03ba\u03b2\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03c4\u03cd\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd\n      \u1f10\u03c7\u03bf\u03cd\u03c3\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03bf\u03b5\u03b9\u03b4\u1fc6, \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03b4\u2019 \u1f44\u03b3\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u1f50\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03bb\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2701 Plut. _De Ser. Num. Vind._ c. 22 (565).\n\n_ 2702 Ib._ c. 22 (566), _\u1f14\u03b4\u03bf\u03be\u03b5\u03bd \u1f00\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u1fb6\u03bd \u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u1fc6\u03c1\u03b1 \u03bc\u03ad\u03b3\u03b1\u03bd, \u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u03bf\u03cd\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\n      \u1f10\u03bc\u03b2\u03ac\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u1fe5\u03b5\u03cd\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f00\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bb\u03ac\u03c3\u03c3\u03b7\u03c2 \u1f22 \u03c7\u03b9\u03cc\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03bb\u03b1\u03bc\u03c0\u03c1\u03cc\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2703 Plut. _De Ser. Num. Vind._ c. 22 (567 D), _\u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c0\u03ac\u03c3\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u1f14\u03bb\u03b5\u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\n      \u03bf\u1f30\u03ba\u03c4\u03c1\u03cc\u03c4\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u1f70\u03c2 \u1f24\u03b4\u03b7 \u03b4\u03bf\u03ba\u03bf\u03cd\u03c3\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c6\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u0394\u03af\u03ba\u03b7\u03c2, \u03b5\u1f36\u03c4\u2019 \u03b1\u1f56\u03b8\u03b9\u03c2\n      \u03c3\u03c5\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1\u03bc\u03b2\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2\u00b7 \u03b1\u1f56\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u2019 \u1f26\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u1f67\u03bd \u03b5\u1f34\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f10\u03ba\u03b3\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u1f22 \u03c0\u03b1\u1fd6\u03b4\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f21\n      \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd\u1f74 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u1fc6\u03bb\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2704 Cf. Pausan. ix. 39, \u00a7 5; Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ viii. 19; Plut.\n      _De Gen. Socr._ c. 21, 22 (589, 590); cf. Gardner and Jevons, _Greek\n      Antiq._ pp. 267-8.\n\n 2705 Plut. _De Gen. Socr._ c. 22 (590), _\u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03b2\u03bb\u03ad\u03c8\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03b3\u1fc6\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u03b1\u03bc\u03bf\u1fe6\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03bf\u03c1\u1fb6\u03bd, \u03bd\u03ae\u03c3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03bb\u03b1\u03bc\u03c0\u03bf\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2 \u03bc\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03ba\u1ff7 \u03c0\u03c5\u03c1\u03af \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2706 Ib._ (591).\n\n 2707 Plut. _De Fac. in Orb. Lun._ c. 30.\n\n 2708 Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ i. p. 67.\n\n 2709 W. Fowler, _Rom. Festivals_, p. 89.\n\n_ 2710 Ib._ p. 229.\n\n 2711 Cic. _De Div._ i. 5, 9, existimo ... si Dii sint, esse qui divinent;\n      i, 38, 82; si sunt Dii, neque ante declarant hominibus quae futura\n      sint, aut non diligunt homines, aut quid eventurum sit ignorant.\n      This argument is attributed to Chrysippus and Diogenes in ii. 49,\n      101.\n\n 2712 Sen. _Frag._ 39 (Aug. _De Civ. D._ vi. 11). See Varro\u2019s opinion,\n      _ib._ vi. 5.\n\n_ 2713 De Civ. Dei_, vi. 4.\n\n 2714 Cic. _De Nat. D._ ii. 28, 70; cf. Sen. _Frag._ 39, cf. _Ep._ 95, 47.\n\n 2715 Cic. _De Div._ i. 3, 6.\n\n 2716 Polyb. vi. 56, _\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b4\u03bf\u03ba\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u1f70 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u1f04\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2\n      \u1f40\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03b4\u03b9\u03b6\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c4\u03bf \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03ad\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03c4\u1f70 \u1fec\u03c9\u03bc\u03b1\u03af\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u03ac\u03b3\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1, \u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03c9 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd\n      \u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03af\u03b1\u03bd, \u1f10\u03c0\u1f76 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u1f10\u03ba\u03c4\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u1ff4\u03b4\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 ... \u1f65\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5 \u03bc\u1f74\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03bb\u03b9\u03c0\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u1f51\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b2\u03bf\u03bb\u1f20\u03bd, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2717 Cic. _De Nat. Deor._ iii 17, 43, in illa aureola oratiuncula, cf.\n      Sym. _Rel._ iii.\n\n 2718 Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ i. p. 60.\n\n 2719 Aug. _De Civ. D._ vi. 2; cf. Cic. _De Leg._ ii. 13, 33, dubium non\n      est quin haec disciplina et ars augurum evanuerit jam et vetustate\n      et negligentia.\n\n 2720 D. Cass. liv. 36; cf. W. Fowler\u2019s _Rom. Fest._ p. 343, Preller,\n      _Rom. Mythol._ p. 24.\n\n 2721 Suet. _Octav._ c. 30.\n\n_ 2722 Ib._ c. 70, coena _\u03b4\u03c9\u03b4\u03b5\u03ba\u03ac\u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03c2_: cf. Thuc. vi. c. 28, \u00a7 1.\n\n 2723 Suet. _Octav._ c. 91, 92.\n\n 2724 D. Cass. liv. 35 _ad fin._\n\n 2725 Ov. _Fasti_, i. 609, hic socium summo cum Jove nomen habet. Sancta\n      vocant augusta patres; augusta vocantur Templa, sacerdotum rite\n      dicata manu.\n\n 2726 D. Cass. lii. 36, _\u03c4\u1f78 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03b8\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u1fc3 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03cc\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c3\u03ad\u03b2\u03bf\u03c5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2\n      \u1f04\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b9\u03bc\u1fb7\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03ac\u03b3\u03ba\u03b1\u03b6\u03b5_.\n\n_ 2727 Ib._ xlvii. 15 _ad fin._\n\n_ 2728 Ib._ liv. 6.\n\n 2729 Suet. _Octav._ c. 31.\n\n 2730 D. Cass. li. 20.\n\n 2731 Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ i. 87.\n\n 2732 Momms. _R\u00f6m. Staatsr._ ii. p. 1024.\n\n_ 2733 C.I.L._ vi. 2042; cf. 2444 and 2034. Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ i. p\n      363.\n\n_ 2734 C.I.L._ vi. 2051, 2.\n\n 2735 Momms. _R\u00f6m. Staatsr._ ii. p. 1022.\n\n 2736 Liv. i. 20.\n\n 2737 Habel, _De Pontif. Rom._ p. 45.\n\n_ 2738 Or._ 1080, 1117; cf. Zosim. iv. 36; Amm. Marc. xvi. 10; Sym. _Ep._\n      x. 54.\n\n 2739 Habel, _De Pontif. Rom._ p. 13.\n\n_ 2740 Ib._ pp. 16, 17, 62; _C.I.L._ vi. 932, 1984.\n\n 2741 Habel, p. 62.\n\n_ 2742 Ib._ p. 24.\n\n 2743 Jul. Capitol. _M. Ant. Phil._ c. 4.\n\n_ 2744 Ib._ c. 6.\n\n_ 2745 Ib._ c. 16; Lamprid. _Com._ c. 12 (a. 175).\n\n 2746 Jul. Capitol. _M. Ant._ c. 13.\n\n 2747 Tac. _Ann._ iv. 16. Yet he is said to be _circa deos negligentior_,\n      c. 69.\n\n_ 2748 Ib._ c. 36.\n\n 2749 Suet. _Claud._ c. 22; Tac. _Ann._ xii. 8.\n\n 2750 Suet. _Otho_, c. 7, 8, 12; _Vitell._ c. 5, 11; Tac. _Hist._ i. 87.\n\n_ 2751 Or._ 2364.\n\n 2752 Tac. _Hist._ iv. 53.\n\n 2753 Suet. _Dom._ c. 5, 15.\n\n 2754 Ael. Spart. _Hadr._ c. 22.\n\n_ 2755 Ib._ 16, \u00a7 5; Plin. _Ep._ vi. 21, \u00a7 1; Mac\u00e9, _Su\u00e9tone_, p. 96;\n      Martha, _Moralistes_, p. 184 sq.\n\n 2756 Pater, _Marius_, chap. ii., xxvii.\n\n 2757 Jul. Capitol. _Ant. P._ c. 11.\n\n_ 2758 Ib._ c. 4.\n\n_ 2759 Ib._ c. 13.\n\n 2760 Petron. c. 17.\n\n_ 2761 C.I.L._ iii. p. 1160 sqq.; xii. p. 924 sqq.; _Or. Henz._ iii.;\n      _Ind._ pp. 25, 29, 30, 33.\n\n_ 2762 C.I.L._ xii. 3070, 3077; 2383; iii. 2804, 5787; _Or. Henz._ 1244,\n      1245.\n\n 2763 Liv. xxi. 38, quem in summo sacratum vertice Poeninum montani\n      appellant; _Or. Henz._ 231-6, 5028, 1271.\n\n_ 2764 Or. Henz._ 1267, 1271.\n\n 2765 Petron. _Sat._ 44.\n\n 2766 Jul. Capitol. _Vit. Ant. P._ c. 8; Preller, _Rom. Myth._ p. 185.\n\n 2767 Suet. _Dom._ c. 4.\n\n_ 2768 Or. Henz._ 1561, 1590; _C.I.L._ xii. 4316; iii. 1162.\n\n 2769 Preller, p. 437.\n\n_ 2770 Or. Henz._ 1603.\n\n_ 2771 Ib._ 1613.\n\n_ 2772 Ib._ 1632, 1634, 1637, 5758a.\n\n 2773 Preller, pp. 406-8; _Or._ 1580, 1581, 1572.\n\n_ 2774 Or. Henz._ 2270; cf. Wordsworth, _Specimens of Early Latin_, p.\n      158; _C.I.L._ vi. 2024 sqq.\n\n 2775 Preller, p. 293.\n\n 2776 Fowler, _Rom. Festivals_, p. 74, 275.\n\n_ 2777 C.I.L._ vi. 2059, ob inlatum ferrum, etc.\n\n_ 2778 Ib._ vi. 2040, 2041, 2043; Preller, p. 294; Oldenberg, _De Sacris\n      Fr. Arv._ p. 5.\n\n 2779 Oldenberg, p. 9.\n\n_ 2780 C.I.L._ vi. 2086.\n\n 2781 Boissier, i. p. 369; Oldenberg, p. 41.\n\n 2782 Boissier, i. p. 374; Preller, p. 295.\n\n_ 2783 C.I.L._ vi. 2023-2113.\n\n_ 2784 Ib._ 2056, ex tabella missa Imp. Vesp. cooptamus, etc.\n\n_ 2785 Ib._ 2024.\n\n_ 2786 Ib._ 2051.\n\n 2787 Jan. 16, 69 A.D.\n\n_ 2788 C.I.L._ vi. 2052.\n\n_ 2789 C.I.L._ vi. 2040, 2041.\n\n_ 2790 Ib._ 2039.\n\n_ 2791 Ib._ 2042.\n\n_ 2792 Ib._ 2044; cf. 2029 (Caligula).\n\n_ 2793 Ib._ 2064, 2067.\n\n_ 2794 Ib._ 2074.\n\n_ 2795 Ib._ 2078.\n\n_ 2796 Ib._ 2086; cf. Flav. Vop. _Probus_, c. 12.\n\n_ 2797 C.I.L._ vi. 2092.\n\n_ 2798 C.I.L._ iii. 5788; _Or._ 1245, 1290.\n\n_ 2799 Or._ 1238, Fulguratori, 1240, 1271, Jovi O. M. tempestatum potenti.\n\n_ 2800 C.I.L._ iii, 1032, 1948, 1590; _Or._ 1269, 1248, 1225, 1269;\n      _C.I.L._ xii. 1066.\n\n_ 2801 Or._ 1335.\n\n_ 2802 Ib._ 1410.\n\n_ 2803 Ib._ 1428, 1429, restitutione facta sibi capillorum.\n\n_ 2804 Ib._ 1634.\n\n_ 2805 Ib._ 1572, 1576.\n\n 2806 Plin. _H. N._ ii. 7, 5, fragilis et laboriosa mortalitas in partes\n      ista digessit infirmitatis suae memor, ut portionibus coleret\n      quisque quo maxime indigeret.\n\n_ 2807 v._ supra, p. 425 sqq.\n\n 2808 Min. Fel. _Octav._ c. 6, quanto venerabilius ac melius antistitem\n      veritatis majorum excipere disciplinam, religiones traditas colere,\n      deos, quos a parentibus ante imbutus es timere quam nosse\n      familiarius, adorare, etc.\n\n 2809 Virg. _Aen._ viii. 343; Ov. _Fasti_, ii. 267; Baronius, _Ann. Eccl._\n      viii. 60; Gibbon, c. 36; Fowler, _Rom. Fest._ p. 310.\n\n 2810 Sym. _Relat._ 3.\n\n 2811 Aug. _De Civ. Dei_, ii. 4; Tertull. _Apol._ 13; _Adv. Marc._ i. 13.\n\n 2812 Lucret. ii. 600.\n\n 2813 Aug. _De Civ. Dei_, ii. 8, vii. 24.\n\n_ 2814 C.I.L._ vi. 499, 504, 509, 510, 511, 512; xii. 1782, 1567; _Or._\n      1899, 1890, 2335.\n\n_ 2815 De Civ. Dei_, ii. 4, 7, 8; vi. 7; vii. 24.\n\n_ 2816 C.I.L._ ii. 179 (Spain, 108 p. Chr.); iii. 1100, 1443 (Dacia, p.\n      Chr. 110); _Or. Henz._ 5839 (Portugal).\n\n 2817 Liv. 29, 10.\n\n_ 2818 Or._ 1906, Navisalviae et matri D. (_v._ note).\n\n 2819 Ov. _Fasti_, iv. 305; Sen. _Frag._ 80; Suet. _Tib._ c. 2.\n\n 2820 Fowler, _Rom. Fest._ p. 70.\n\n 2821 Val. Max. vii. 7, 6; Goehler, _De Matr. Magn. Cultu_, p. 10.\n\n 2822 Lucret. ii. 600; Virg. _Aen._ ix. 620; x. 220; Ov. _A. Am._ i. 507;\n      Prop. iii. 17, 35; cf. Preller, p. 484.\n\n_ 2823 C.I.L._ vi. 496.\n\n 2824 Goehler, p. 12.\n\n 2825 Yet cf. D. Cass. lxi. 20, _\u1f10\u03ba\u03b9\u03b8\u03b1\u03c1\u1ff4\u03b4\u03b5\u03c3\u03ad \u03c4\u03b5 \u1f0c\u03c4\u03c4\u03b9\u03bd \u1f41 \u0391\u1f54\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2_.\n\n_ 2826 C.I.L._ x. 1406. Imp. Vesp. templum M. M. terrae motu conlapsum\n      restituit.\n\n_ 2827 Ib._ ii. 179 (108 p. Chr.); cf. _Or. Henz._ 5839.\n\n_ 2828 C.I.L._ iii. 1100, 1443.\n\n_ 2829 Ib._ x. 1596 (Naples, p. Chr. 134).\n\n_ 2830 Or. Henz._ 2322.\n\n 2831 Goehler, p. 15.\n\n 2832 Tertull. _Apol._ 25; D. Cass. lxxi. 33.\n\n_ 2833 C.I.L._ vi. 501 (p. Chr. 383); 509, 511, 510, 500.\n\n 2834 R\u00e9ville, p. 60; Ov. _Fasti_, iv. 251,\n\n        Cum Trojam Aeneas Italos portaret in agros,\n          Est dea sacriferas paene secuta rates.\n\n 2835 Ov. _l.c._ 293.\n\n 2836 Aug. _De Civ. Dei_, vi. 8; vii. 25; Jul. _Or._ v. p. 161 D.\n\n 2837 There were many variations of the myth; _v._ Goehler, pp. 2, 3;\n      Foucart, _Assoc. Rel._ p. 89; Ov. _Fasti_, iv. 223.\n\n 2838 R\u00e9ville, p. 64; Preller, p. 485.\n\n 2839 Fowler, _Rom. Festivals_, p. 70; cf. Foucart, _Assoc. Rel._ p. 88,\n      for similar treatment at Athens.\n\n_ 2840 C.I.L._ x. 3810; viii. 8203; xii. 1782; ii. 5260.\n\n_ 2841 Ib._ xii. 1782; _Or. Henz._ 2325, 6031; Goehler, p. 40.\n\n 2842 Goehler, p. 12; _C.I.L._ vi. 511, 504, 500.\n\n_ 2843 C.I.L._ iii. 2920; xii. 1567.\n\n_ 2844 Ib._ x. 6074; vi. 502, 508; _Or. Henz._ 7200 (Acte), 2330, 1902,\n      2371, 2319, 2325; _C.I.L._ xii. 4322, 4326.\n\n_ 2845 Or. Henz._ 7336, 2322, 6031, 4109, 7197; _C.I.L._ viii. 9401.\n\n 2846 Goehler, p. 45.\n\n_ 2847 C.I.L._ xii. 1782.\n\n_ 2848 Or. Henz._ 2325, 2984.\n\n 2849 Mahaffy, _The Greek World under Roman Sway_, p. 295 sqq.\n\n 2850 R\u00e9ville, _Rel. unter den Sev._ p. 65; Apul. _Met._ viii. 24 (_v._\n      Hildenbrand\u2019s notes.)\n\n 2851 Apul. _Met._ viii. c. 27 (580); cf. Aug. _De Civ. Dei_, ii. 4.\n\n 2852 Apul. _Met._ viii. c. 28 (583).\n\n_ 2853 Ib._ c. 28 (585).\n\n_ 2854 Ib._ c. 30 (589).\n\n_ 2855 C.I.L._ x. 1406; Lamprid. _Alex. Sev._ c. 37.\n\n 2856 Firm. Matern. _De Err. Prof. Rel._ c. 2, 3.\n\n 2857 R\u00e9ville, p. 66; Goehler, p. 29; Cumont, _Mon. figur\u00e9s de Mithra_,\n      Introd. p. 333; _Or._ 2329, 2330, 1900; _C.I.L._ vi. 497, 500, 511;\n      cf. _ib._ x. 1596, where the taurobolium is connected with Venus\n      Coelesta (_sic_); Preller, p. 486.\n\n 2858 Tertull. _De Praescrip. Haeret._ 40; Firm. Matern. _De Err. Prof.\n      Relig._ c. 27, neminem aput idola profusus sanguis munit ... polluit\n      sanguis iste, non redimit.... Tauribolium quid vel criobolium\n      scelerata te sanguinis labe perfundit? S. Paulin. Nol. _Poem. Ult._\n      112-117.\n\n 2859 Cumont, Introd. pp. 236, 333; Herodot. iv. 103; Eur. _Iph. T._ 1455;\n      Strab. v. 3, \u00a7 12, p. 240.\n\n 2860 Cumont, p. 334; Gasquet, _Culte de Mithra_, p. 75; Cumont, Introd.\n      p. 334, n. 5; R\u00e9ville, _Rel. unter den Sev._ p. 93, takes an\n      opposite view.\n\n 2861 Donsbach, _Die __r\u00e4umliche__ Verbreitung des Mithrasdienstes_, pp.\n      8, 9.\n\n 2862 This is rendered doubtful by Porphyr. _De Abstin._ iv. 16, _\u1f61\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2\n      \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03ad\u03c7\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f40\u03c1\u03b3\u03af\u03c9\u03bd \u03bc\u03cd\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u03bb\u03ad\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd (\u03b5\u1f30\u03ce\u03b8\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd).\n      \u03c4\u1f70\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03b3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u1fd6\u03ba\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f51\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2_ (altered by Felicianus to _\u03bb\u03b5\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2_); cf.\n      Gasquet, p. 98.\n\n_ 2863 C.I.L._ vi. 1778, 9.\n\n 2864 Goehler, p. 55; _C.I.L._ x. 1596; Puteoli, p. Chr. 134; taurobol.\n      Veneris Caelestae (_sic_).\n\n_ 2865 Or._ 2382; Goehler, p. 55; cf. _C.I.L._ viii. 8203.\n\n_ 2866 Or._ 2327, ex jussu ipsius; _C.I.L._ xii. 1782, ex vaticinatione\n      Archigalli; cf. xii. 4321, 4323.\n\n_ 2867 C.I.L._ xii. 1782.\n\n_ 2868 Ib._ xii. 4321 (_stipe collata_); at private expense, xii. 1568.\n\n_ 2869 Peristeph._ x. 1011; cf. Duruy, v. p. 743.\n\n_ 2870 C.I.L._ xii. 1311, 251, 1822, 4332; _Or._ 2332.\n\n 2871 Goehler, p. 34; R\u00e9ville, p. 66; Preller, p. 488; Cumont, Introd. p.\n      333.\n\n 2872 Goehler, p. 29.\n\n 2873 Lafaye, _Culte des divinit\u00e9s d\u2019Alexandrie_, p. 15; Plut. _De Is. et\n      Osir._ c. 28.\n\n 2874 Plut. _De Is. et Osir._ c. 35, addressed to Clea, who was high in\n      the worship of Dionysus, and \u201chereditarily devoted to Osiris.\u201d\n\n 2875 Lamprid. _Com. Ant._ c. 9; Spart. _Sev._ c. 17; R\u00e9ville, _Rel. unter\n      den Sev._ p. 58.\n\n 2876 Foucart, _Assoc. Religieuses_, p. 83.\n\n 2877 Lafaye, pp. 27-32; Paus. i. 18, \u00a7 4.\n\n 2878 Lafaye, p. 38.\n\n_ 2879 v._ Plut. _De Is. et Osir._ c. 53, _\u03c4\u1f78 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03c6\u03cd\u03c3\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b8\u1fc6\u03bb\u03c5_, c. 52,\n      _\u03bf\u1f50\u03c7 \u1f11\u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03c3\u03b5\u03bb\u03ae\u03bd\u03b7\u03c2_: c. 38, _\u03bf\u1f55\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f3c\u03c3\u03b9\u03b4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c3\u1ff6\u03bc\u03b1 \u03b3\u1fc6\u03bd \u1f14\u03c7\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03af\u03b6\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd, \u03bf\u1f50 \u03c0\u03ac\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd, \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u2019 \u1f27\u03c2 \u1f41 \u039d\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03b2\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9 \u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03bc\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd_: cf. c.\n      32; c. 56, _\u1f4c\u03c3\u03b9\u03c1\u03b9\u03bd \u1f61\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c1\u03c7\u03ae\u03bd, \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f3c\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f61\u03c2 \u1f51\u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03bf\u03c7\u03ae\u03bd, \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f6d\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u1f41\u03c2\n      \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03ad\u03bb\u03b5\u03c3\u03bc\u03b1_: cf. Herodot. ii. 156; Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 7, matrem\n      siderum, parentem temporum, orbisque totius dominam blando mulcentes\n      affamine.\n\n 2880 Herodot. ii. 154.\n\n_ 2881 Ib._ 156; cf. Plew, _De Sarapide_, p. 23 sqq.\n\n 2882 Thuc. i. 104.\n\n 2883 Lafaye, p. 15 sqq.\n\n 2884 Plew, _De Sarapide_, p. 10 sqq.\n\n 2885 Tac. _Hist._ iv. 84.\n\n 2886 Plew, _De Sarapide_, p. 15; Preller, p. 478.\n\n 2887 Plew, _De Sarapide_, p. 6.\n\n 2888 Lafaye, p. 17.\n\n 2889 Plut. _De Is. et Osir._ c. 45, 49.\n\n_ 2890 Or._ 1890 sqq.; _C.I.L._ viii. 1005; iii. 4560, 3.\n\n 2891 Aristid. _Or. Sac._ viii. 53, _\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u03b1\u03bc\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f62\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b2\u03b9\u03c9\u03c3\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03c5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u1f70 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c4\u2019\n      \u1f03\u03bd \u03b4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1\u03af\u03c9\u03c2 \u1f05\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03b5\u03b9\u03bb\u03b7\u03c6\u03ad\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03af\u03b6\u03bf\u03b9\u03c4\u03bf ... \u1f41 \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f65\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u03ba\u03bf\u03c1\u03c5\u03c6\u03b1\u1fd6\u03bf\u03c2\n      \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u1f00\u03c1\u03c7\u1f70\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 \u1f14\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9_. Cf. Baumgar. _Aristides als\n      Repr\u00e4sentant der Soph. Rhet._ p. 90 sqq.\n\n_ 2892 Or._ 1871, tibi quae es omnia.\n\n 2893 Apul. _Met._ xi. 7.\n\n 2894 Lafaye, p. 43.\n\n 2895 Id. p. 40; Mau, _Pompeii_, p. 163.\n\n 2896 Liv. xxix. 10; Goehler, _De Matris Magnae Cultu_, p. 7.\n\n 2897 Liv. xxxix. 19.\n\n 2898 Preller, _Myth. Rom._ p. 473.\n\n 2899 Plin. _H. N._ xiii. 27; Liv. xl. 29; Momms. _Rom. Hist._ ii. p. 402;\n      Lafaye, p. 41.\n\n 2900 Tertull. _Adv. Marc._ i. 13; Firm. Mat. _De Err. Prof. Rel._ 2, \u00a7 7,\n      cur plangitis fruges terrae et crescentia lugetis semina?\n\n 2901 Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 30, Collegii vetustissimi et sub illis Sullae\n      temporibus conditi, etc.\n\n 2902 Tertull. _Apol._ 6; _Ad Nat._ i. 10; prohibitos Capitolio Varro\n      commemorat eorumque aras a senatu dejectas nonnisi per vim\n      popularium restructas, Val. Max. i. 3, 4; cf. Lewald, _De Peregr.\n      Rel. ap. Rom._ p. 10.\n\n 2903 D. Cass. xlii. 26.\n\n 2904 Lafaye, p. 47; Val. Max. vii. 3, 8; cf. App. _B. C._ iv. 47.\n\n 2905 D. Cass. xliii. 27; xlvii. 15.\n\n 2906 Catull. x. 26; Tibull. i. 3, 23; Propert. ii. 33.\n\n_ 2907 Aen._ viii. 698.\n\n 2908 D. Cass. liii. 2, _\u03c4\u1f70 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f31\u03b5\u03c1\u1f70 \u03c4\u1f70 \u0391\u1f30\u03b3\u03cd\u03c0\u03c4\u03b9\u03b1 \u03bf\u1f50\u03ba \u1f10\u03c3\u03b5\u03b4\u03ad\u03be\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf \u03b5\u1f34\u03c3\u03c9 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\n      \u03c0\u03c9\u03bc\u03b7\u03c1\u03af\u03bf\u03c5_; cf. liv. 6.\n\n 2909 Lafaye, p. 55, discredits the tale of the seduction, which is given\n      by Josephus alone, _B. Jud._ xviii. 3; cf. Tac. _Ann._ ii. 85; Suet.\n      _Tib._ 36.\n\n_ 2910 C.I.L._ x. 2, 7563 sqq.\n\n 2911 Suet. _Claud._ 25; cf. D. Cass. lx. 6.\n\n_ 2912 C.I.L._ vi. 353.\n\n 2913 Tac. _Ann._ xv. 36; cf. Suet. _Nero_, 40, 47, varia agitavit, an vel\n      Aegypti praefecturam concedi sibi oraret, etc.\n\n 2914 Suet. _Otho_, 12.\n\n 2915 Suet. _Vesp._ iv. v. vii.; Tac. _Hist._ iv. 81.\n\n 2916 Tac. _Hist._ iii. 74; cf. Suet. _Domit._ i.\n\n 2917 Lafaye, p. 61, n. 8.\n\n 2918 Boissier, _Prom. __Arch\u00e6ol._ p. 238; Spart. _Hadr._ c. 26.\n\n 2919 Lamprid. _Commod._ 9.\n\n 2920 Gibbon, c. 28; Amm. Marc. xxii. 16.\n\n_ 2921 C.I.L._ ii. 6004.\n\n 2922 Lafaye, p. 157.\n\n_ 2923 Ib._ p. 158.\n\n 2924 Lafaye, p. 157.\n\n_ 2925 C.I.G._ 5900, _\u1f08\u03c1\u03c7\u03b9\u03b5\u03c1\u03b5\u1fd6 \u1f08\u03bb\u03b5\u03be\u03b1\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u03b5\u1fd6\u03b1\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u0391\u1f30\u03b3\u03cd\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c0\u03ac\u03c3\u03b7\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03ac\u03c4\u1fc3 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u039c\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5\u03af\u03bf\u03c5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f10\u03c0\u1f76 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd \u1fec\u03ce\u03bc\u1fc3 \u03b2\u03b9\u03b2\u03bb\u03b9\u03bf\u03b8\u03b7\u03ba\u1ff6\u03bd ... \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bb\u03b5\u1fd6\n      \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03bf\u03ba\u03c1\u03ac\u03c4\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2_: cf. Mac\u00e9, _Su\u00e9tone_, pp. 92, 116.\n\n 2926 Lucan, _Phars._ viii. 831, nos in templa tuam Romana accepimus Isin;\n      ix. 158, jam numen gentibus Isin.\n\n_ 2927 C.I.L._ viii. 2630; cf. Cagnat, _L\u2019Arm\u00e9e Rom. d\u2019Afr._ p. 423. See\n      other dedications by officers in _Or. Henz._ 5836, 7.\n\n_ 2928 C.I.L._ viii. 2629, 1002, 4, 5.\n\n_ 2929 Ib._ iii. 881, 2, 1428, 1590, 1342, 4015; _Or. Henz._ 5838.\n\n_ 2930 C.I.L._ iii. 4809; _Or. Henz._ 2035, 5833.\n\n 2931 Tac. _Germ._ 9.\n\n_ 2932 Or. Henz._ 1897.\n\n_ 2933 Ib._ 5836.\n\n 2934 Lafaye, p. 162. For an interesting dedication for the support of the\n      worship at N\u00eemes _v._ _C.I.L._ xii. 3058.\n\n_ 2935 Or. Henz._ 457; cf. Tac. _Hist._ i. 67, in modum municipii\n      exstructus locus, amoeno salubrium aquarum usu frequens.\n\n 2936 Lafaye, p. 160; R\u00e9ville, _Rel. unter den Sev._ p. 53; _C.I.L._ ii.\n      3386, Isis puellaris.\n\n 2937 Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 11.\n\n 2938 Lafaye, p. 160, 1.\n\n_ 2939 Met._ xi. c. 24.\n\n 2940 Plut. _De Is. et Osir._ c. 78; Aristid. _Or. Sac._ viii. 52, 53.\n\n 2941 Herodot. ii. c. 50.\n\n_ 2942 Ib._ c. 81; Iambl. _De Pythag. Vit._ \u00a7 151, cf. \u00a7 14; Porph.\n      _Pythag._ \u00a7 6; Plut. _De Is. et Osir._ c. 10.\n\n 2943 Philostr. _Apollon. Tyan._ vi. 19; D. Chrys. _Or._ xii. \u00a7 68.\n\n 2944 Juv. xv. 3; cf. Cic. _De Nat. Deor._ iii. 15; _Tuscul._ v. 27.\n\n 2945 Plut. _De Is. et Osir._ cc. 72-74.\n\n 2946 Herodot. viii. c. 41.\n\n 2947 Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 11, attollens canis cervices arduas Anubis; cf.\n      Juv. vi. 534; Plut. _De Is._ c. 44; Tertull. _Apol._ 6; _Ad Nat._\n      ii. 8.\n\n 2948 Mau, _Pompeii_, p. 175.\n\n 2949 Lafaye, p. 106, 7.\n\n_ 2950 Or._ 1871.\n\n 2951 On a Dacian inscription, _C.I.L._ iii. 1590, Placidae Reginae.\n\n 2952 Baumgart, _Ael. Aristides Repr\u00e4sent. der Soph. Rhet. des zweit.\n      Jahr._ p. 91; cf. Hadrian\u2019s letter to Servianus, Vopisc. _Vit.\n      Saturn._ c. 8.\n\n 2953 Plut. _De Is._ c. 66, 79.\n\n 2954 Lafaye, p. 101.\n\n 2955 Tac. _Hist._ i. 23; D. Cass. lxxi. 8, _\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b3\u03ac\u03c1 \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9 \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f14\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\n      \u1f08\u03c1\u03bd\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c6\u03b9\u03bd \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1 \u03bc\u03ac\u03b3\u03bf\u03bd \u0391\u1f30\u03b3\u03cd\u03c0\u03c4\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u1ff7 \u039c\u03ac\u03c1\u03ba\u1ff3 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 2956 Juv. vi. 581.\n\n_ 2957 Or._ 1882, ex visu; _C.I.L._ vi. 346, 572; v. 484.\n\n 2958 Cic. _De Div._ i. 58, 132; Diod. i. 25; Aristid. _Or. Sacr._ iii. p.\n      319 (Jebb).\n\n 2959 Tac. _Hist._ iv. 81, monitu Serapidis, etc.\n\n 2960 Lafaye, p. 104; Aristid. _Or. Sacr._ viii. 55.\n\n 2961 Aristid. _Or. Sacr._ viii. 54, _\u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03cc\u03c4\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03b8\u03b5\u1ff6\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u03c6\u03bf\u03b2\u03b5\u03c1\u03ce\u03c4\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03cc\u03c2, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n_ 2962 Ib._ viii. 54, _\u03c3\u03c9\u03c4\u1f74\u03c1 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1f78\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03bc\u03c0\u03cc\u03c2, \u1f04\u03b3\u03c9\u03bd \u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u03c6\u1ff6\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bb\u03b9\u03bd\n      \u03b4\u03b5\u03c7\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._; Plew, _De Sarapide_, p. 30.\n\n 2963 Rohde, _Psyche_, ii. p. 126; cf. i. 286; Lobeck, _Aglaoph._ i. p.\n      239; Hardie, _Lectures on Classical Subjects_, pp. 56, 57. The\n      Orphici laid more stress on the moral aspect of immortality than the\n      priests of Eleusis did.\n\n 2964 Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 22.\n\n_ 2965 C.I.G._ 6562, _\u03b4\u03bf\u03af\u03b7 \u03c3\u03bf\u03b9 \u1f41 \u1f4c\u03c3\u03b9\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03c1\u1f78\u03bd \u1f55\u03b4\u03c9\u03c1_: cf. Plew, _De\n      Sarap._ p. 31.\n\n_ 2966 Or._ 1879.\n\n 2967 Pind. _Fr._ 137 (Christ); Soph. _Fr._ 753\u2014\n\n                  _\u1f61\u03c2 \u03c4\u03c1\u1f76\u03c2 \u1f44\u03bb\u03b2\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9_\n        _\u03ba\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03bf\u1f33 \u03c4\u03b1\u1fe6\u03c4\u03b1 \u03b4\u03b5\u03c1\u03c7\u03ad\u03bd\u03b8\u03b5\u03c2 \u03c4\u03ad\u03bb\u03b7_\n        _\u03bc\u03cc\u03bb\u03c9\u03c3\u2019 \u1f10\u03c2 \u1f0d\u03b9\u03b4\u03bf\u03c5._\n\n      Cf. _O.C._ 1051.\n\n_ 2968 C.I.L._ xii. 4321, ex stipe collata.\n\n 2969 Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 28 (813), veste ipsa mea quamvis parvula\n      distracta sufficientem corrasi summulum; cf. Tertull. _Apol._ 13.\n\n 2970 Tibull. i. 3, 31, bisque die, resoluta comas, tibi dicere laudes\n      Insignis turba debeat in Pharia.\n\n 2971 Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 20 (795), velis candentibus reductis.\n\n 2972 Mart. x. 48, 1, nunciat octavam Phariae sua turba juvencae.\n\n 2973 Mau, _Pompeii_, pp. 171, 172.\n\n 2974 Lafaye, p. 115; _Catal._ No. 222.\n\n 2975 Mau, p. 171; Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 17 (791), intuitans deae specimen\n      pristinos casus meos recordabar; Mart. ii. 14, 8.\n\n 2976 Lafaye, p. 126; Plut. _De Is. et Osir._ c. 39, _\u03b4\u03b9\u1f78 \u03bc\u03b7\u03bd\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f08\u03b8\u1f7a\u03c1\n      \u1f00\u03c6\u03b1\u03bd\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u1fc6\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u1f4c\u03c3\u03b9\u03c1\u03b9\u03bd \u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd, __\u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._: Juv. viii. 29; vi. 534;\n      Ov. _Metam._ ix. 692, nunquamque satis quaesitus Osiris; Lucan,\n      viii. 831, et quem tu plangens hominem testaris Osirim; Min. Fel. c.\n      21.\n\n 2977 Ov. _Am._ i. 8, 74; iii. 9, 30; Prop. ii. 33, 3; Tibull. i. 3, 23.\n\n 2978 Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 11 (774-78); R\u00e9ville, _Rel. unter den Sev._ p.\n      56.\n\n 2979 Plut. _De Is. et Osir._ c. 38, _\u039d\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u1f48\u03c3\u03af\u03c1\u03b9\u03b4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03c1\u03c1\u03bf\u1f74\u03bd ...\n      \u1f14\u03c7\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd_.\n\n 2980 R\u00e9ville, p. 54; Lafaye, p. 130 sqq.\n\n_ 2981 C.I.G._ 6006; Apul. _Met._ ii. c. 28 (159), propheta primarius, xi.\n      c. 17 (788), sacerdos maximus. _Or. Henz._ 2305, C. Ruf. Volusianus\n      pater ierofanta profata Isidos; 1878, 6666; _C.I.L._ x. 6445; xii.\n      410.\n\n 2982 Lafaye, p. 133.\n\n_ 2983 C.I.L._ xii. 3061, Ornatrix fani Nemausi.\n\n 2984 Lafaye, p. 135.\n\n 2985 Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 17 (789).\n\n_ 2986 Ib._ c. 9 (772), dicati Serapi tibicines.\n\n 2987 Lafaye, p. 138, n. 4.\n\n_ 2988 Or. Henz._ 2355, 6385, 2309.\n\n 2989 Foucart, _Assoc. Religieuses_, p. 117; _Inscr._ 66, 240.\n\n 2990 Mau, p. 478, Cn. Helv. Sabinum aed. Isiaci rogant.\n\n 2991 Foucart, pp. 25-30; _Or. Henz._ 6029, 2313, mater sacrorum; _C.I.L._\n      vi. 2277; _Or._ 2308, patrono Sacr. Isidis; Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 30\n      (817).\n\n 2992 Lamprid. _Commod._ c. 9.\n\n 2993 Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 22 (800).\n\n 2994 Lafaye, pp. 189, 190; Mau, p. 169.\n\n 2995 Lafaye, p. 149.\n\n 2996 Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 22 (800), Mithram illum suum sacerdotem\n      praecipuum, divino quodam stellarum consortio ut aiebat mihi\n      conjunctum, sacrorum ministrum decernit.\n\n 2997 Lafaye, pp. 151, 186; Mau, _Pompeii_, p. 174.\n\n 2998 Tibull. i. 3, 30; Mart. xii. 29; Juv. vi. 526; Suet. _Otho_, 12.\n\n 2999 Plut. _De Is._ c. 4, 8, 32.\n\n 3000 Aristid. _Or. Sacr._ xiii. p. 54.\n\n 3001 Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 24.\n\n_ 3002 Ib._\n\n 3003 Cumont, _Monuments Relatifs aux Myst\u00e8res de Mithra_, Intr. pp. 309,\n      310.\n\n 3004 Zeller, _Phil. der Griech._ iii. 2, p. 101; cf. Macrob. _Sat._ i.\n      17; Philostr. _Apoll. Tyan._ ii. 38; vi. 10, \u00a7 1; M. Aurel. xi. 27.\n\n 3005 Cumont, Intr. p. 336; Dieterich, _Eine Mithrasliturgie_, p. 197.\n\n 3006 Flav. Vop. _Aurelian_, c. 36, 39.\n\n 3007 Cumont, Intr. p. 223 sq.; Gasquet, _Le Culte de Mithra_, p. 16 sq.\n\n 3008 Cumont, Intr. p. 225.\n\n 3009 Gasquet, p. 20.\n\n 3010 Cumont, Intr. p. 226 sqq.\n\n 3011 Xen. _Cyrop._ vii. 5, 53; _Oecon._ iv. \u00a7 24.\n\n 3012 Cumont, Intr. p. 231; Gasquet, p. 21 sqq.\n\n 3013 Donsbach, _Die r\u00e4umliche Verbreitung des __Mithrasdienstes_, p. 5.\n\n_ 3014 De Laud. Stilich._ i. 62.\n\n 3015 Luc. _Menippus_, cc. 6-9.\n\n 3016 Cumont, Intr. p. 232.\n\n_ 3017 v._ Cumont, _Inscr. Orient._ i. 2, 3.\n\n 3018 Id. _Inscr. Grecques_, i.\n\n 3019 Cumont, Intr. p. 236.\n\n 3020 Gasquet, pp. 31 and 75; R\u00e9ville, _Rel. unter den Sev._ p. 93;\n      Goehler, _De Matris Mag. Cultu_, p. 55; but cf. Cumont, Intr. pp.\n      334-5.\n\n 3021 Gasquet, p. 31.\n\n_ 3022 C.I.L._ vi. 508, 511; cf. Cumont, Intr. p. 235.\n\n 3023 Strab. xv. 3, \u00a7 13 (732), _\u03a0\u03ad\u03c1\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u03af\u03bd\u03c5\u03bd \u1f00\u03b3\u03ac\u03bb\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b2\u03c9\u03bc\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f50\u03c7\n      \u1f31\u03b4\u03c1\u03cd\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 ... \u03c4\u03b9\u03bc\u1ff6\u03c3\u03b9 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f2d\u03bb\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u1f43\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c3\u03b9 \u039c\u03af\u03b8\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 3024 Cumont, Intr. pp. 181, 237.\n\n 3025 Herod. i. 131; Xen. _Cyrop._ vii. 5, 53; Strab. _l.c._\n\n 3026 Q. Curt. iv. 13, \u00a7 48.\n\n 3027 Stat. _Theb._ i. 717; cf. Cumont, _Textes_, p. 47.\n\n 3028 Plut. _De Is. et Osir._ c. 46.\n\n 3029 Luc. _Deor. Concil._ c. 9; _Menippus_, c. 6 sqq.; _Jup. Trag._ c. 8.\n\n 3030 Plut. _Pomp._ c. 24.\n\n_ 3031 Or. Henz._ 5844.\n\n 3032 Cumont, Intr. p. 243, n. 3; Tac. _Ann._ ii. 42; D. Cass. lvii. 17;\n      Suet. _Vesp._ c. 8.\n\n_ 3033 C.I.L._ vi. 732. On the date of the _Thebaid_, cf. Teuffel, _Rom.\n      Lit._ \u00a7 316, n. 3.\n\n 3034 Cumont, Intr. p. 253; cf. Tac. _Ann._ xiii. 35.\n\n_ 3035 C.I.L._ vi. 718, A.D. 102.\n\n 3036 Cumont, Intr. p. 265, _Inscr._ No. 133.\n\n 3037 R\u00e9ville, p. 81.\n\n 3038 Cumont, Intr. p. 274, n. 6.\n\n_ 3039 Ib._ p. 275; Donsbach, pp. 15-17.\n\n 3040 Cumont, p. 265, n. 4; cf. p. 333.\n\n 3041 Id. _Inscr._; _C.I.L._ vi. 510; _Or. Henz._ 6040.\n\n 3042 Donsbach, p. 17.\n\n 3043 Cumont, Intr. p. 246 sq.\n\n_ 3044 Ib._ p. 258, n. 8; cf. _Or. Henz._ 5855, 1916, 1917, 1922.\n\n 3045 Cumont, Intr. p. 263.\n\n_ 3046 C.I.L._ iii. 3960, 4797, 5620, 4802; vi. 721.\n\n 3047 Cumont, Intr. p. 265.\n\n 3048 Cf. Cumont, _Inscr._ 150, sagaris actor; cf. the list of the\n      Cultores Mithrae, _C.I.L._ xi. 5737.\n\n 3049 Cumont, Intr. p 268; Donsbach, p. 19.\n\n 3050 Cumont, Intr. p. 268.\n\n 3051 Donsbach, p. 19.\n\n_ 3052 C.I.L_ ix. 4109, 4110.\n\n_ 3053 Ib._ xi. 5737.\n\n 3054 Donsbach, p. 20; Cumont, Intr. p. 266.\n\n 3055 Cumont, Intr. p. 269.\n\n 3056 Cumont, _Mon._ 237, 239; _Inscr._ 408.\n\n_ 3057 C.I.L._ iii. 3480, 3479, 4796, 4797, 5121.\n\n 3058 Donsbach, p. 21.\n\n 3059 Cumont, Intr. p. 249; Donsbach, p. 22.\n\n 3060 Cumont, Intr. p. 250.\n\n 3061 Eutrop. viii. 6.\n\n 3062 Cumont, Intr. p. 247, n. 6.\n\n_ 3063 Ib._ p. 251, n. 3.\n\n 3064 Cumont, Intr. pp. 252, 3.\n\n 3065 Id. _Mon._ No. 228; Intr. p. 253.\n\n 3066 Id. _Mon._ No. 225; Intr. p. 253.\n\n 3067 Id. _Inscr._ No. 368.\n\n 3068 Mommsen, _Rom. Prov._ ii. p. 63, n.\n\n_ 3069 C.I.L._ iii. 4418, 4416; Donsbach, p. 25.\n\n 3070 Tac. _Ann._ 13, 35, habiti per Galatiam Cappadociamque dilectus.\n\n 3071 Cumont, _Mon._ No. 225.\n\n_ 3072 C.I.L._ viii. 2675; Cagnat, p. 189.\n\n_ 3073 C.I.L._ iii. 5650; Cumont, _Inscr._ No. 416; _Mon._ No. 238; cf.\n      Donsbach, p. 26.\n\n 3074 Cumont, Intr. p. 255; Donsbach, p. 27.\n\n 3075 For the number and the sites _v._ Donsbach, p. 27.\n\n 3076 Cumont, _Mon._ No. 351.\n\n 3077 Id. _Inscr._ No. 423; Intr. p. 256, n. 2.\n\n 3078 Id. _Mon._ No. 248 (p. 359).\n\n_ 3079 Ib._ No. 265 (p. 388).\n\n 3080 Tac. _Ann._ 14, 33, Londinium ... copia negotiatorum maxime celebre.\n\n 3081 Cumont, _Inscr._ Nos. 471-490; Donsbach, p. 29.\n\n 3082 Id. Intr. p. 259 n.\n\n_ 3083 Ib._ p. 260; Donsbach, p. 30.\n\n 3084 Cumont, _l.c._; cf. Cagnat, _L\u2019Arm. rom. d\u2019Afr._ p. 353, on the\n      history and composition of the Legio III. Augusta.\n\n 3085 Luc. _Deor. Concil._ c. 9.\n\n 3086 R\u00e9ville, p. 87.\n\n 3087 Cumont, Intr. p. 190; Gasquet, p. 70.\n\n 3088 Cumont, Intr. p. 56;   Gasquet, p. 36.\n\n 3089 Cumont, _Inscr._ 441, 444; _Mon._ 213, 245, 252.\n\n_ 3090 Ib._ 251 (p. 365); Intr. p. 92; cf. Herod. i. 131.\n\n 3091 Cumont, _Mon._ 246 (p. 348).\n\n 3092 Id. Intr. p. 109; _Mon._ 246, 247, 248, 251, 273.\n\n 3093 Donsbach, p. 6; Gasquet, p. 24; Dieterich, _Mithrasliturgie_, p.\n      146; S. Hieron. _Com. in Amos_, v. 9, 10.\n\n 3094 Macrob. _Som. Scip._ i. 15, \u00a7 10 sqq.\n\n 3095 Cumont, Intr. pp. 71, 72.\n\n 3096 Cf. Dieterich, _Mithrasliturgie_, pp. 150, 165, 202; Cumont, Intr.\n      pp. 331, 336.\n\n 3097 Gasquet, p. 104; cf. Macrob. _Som. Scip._ i. 12; Macrob. _Sat._ i.\n      17; cf. Lobeck, _Aglaoph._ ii. 933; Rohde, _Psyche_, ii. pp. 121,\n      402.\n\n 3098 Cumont, Intr. pp. 308, 309; cf. Macrob. _Som. Scip._ i. 12.\n\n 3099 Cumont, Intr. p. 294; _ib._ p. 75. But cf. Gasquet, p. 41.\n\n 3100 Cumont, Intr. p. 295.\n\n_ 3101 Ib._ p. 296.\n\n_ 3102 Ib._ p. 301.\n\n 3103 Id. _Mon._ 251 (p. 365).\n\n 3104 Id. Intr. p. 297.\n\n 3105 Id. _Mon._ 246 (p. 349).\n\n 3106 Cumont, _Mon._ 251 (p. 365).\n\n 3107 Id. Intr. p. 300; Gasquet, p. 62.\n\n 3108 Cumont, Intr. p. 316; cf. Gasquet, pp. 94, 95.\n\n 3109 Cumont, Intr. p. 301.\n\n 3110 Cf. Denis, _Id\u00e9es Morales_, etc. ii. p. 248 sq.; cf. Burgmann,\n      _Seneca\u2019s Theologie_, p. 37; Sen. _Ep._ 95, 50; 31, \u00a7 11; Philostr.\n      _Apoll. Tyan._ v. 25; Max. Tyr. _Diss._ viii.; xiv. \u00a7 7, 8; xvi. \u00a7\n      9.\n\n_ 3111 v._ supra, p. 426.\n\n 3112 Cumont, Intr. p. 303.\n\n_ 3113 Ib._ pp. 207, 208.\n\n 3114 Plut. _De Is. et Osir._ c. 46.\n\n 3115 Firm. Matern. c. 20, alterius profani sacramenti signum est _\u03b8\u03b5\u03cc\u03c2 \u1f10\u03ba\n      \u03c0\u03ad\u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2_, etc. Cf. S. Hieron. _Adv. Jov._ i. \u00a7 7; Just. Mart. _Dial.\n      c. Tryph._ c. 70; Prud. _Cathem._ v. 9; Cumont, _Mon._ 199, 207.\n\n 3116 Id. Intr. p. 160.\n\n_ 3117 Ib._ p. 162; _Mon._ 204.\n\n 3118 Id. Intr. p. 164.\n\n_ 3119 Ib._ p. 165; _Mon._ 204 (p. 318), 235 (p. 338).\n\n 3120 Cumont, Intr. p. 167 sq.; _Mon._ 253, 192, 204, 221.\n\n 3121 See the finest extant specimen from Osterburken; Cumont, _Mon._ 246;\n      cf. the one at Heddernheim, _Mon._ 251.\n\n 3122 Cumont, Intr. p. 186 sq.; _Mon._ 104, 246.\n\n 3123 Gasquet, p. 70.\n\n 3124 Cumont, _Mon._ 191 (p. 312); 203 (p. 317); 242 (p. 342); 246 (p.\n      350); Intr. p. 172.\n\n 3125 Cumont, Intr. p. 175.\n\n 3126 R\u00e9ville, p. 83.\n\n_ 3127 Ib._ p. 89.\n\n 3128 Gasquet, p. 77.\n\n 3129 Gasquet, p. 108.\n\n 3130 Cumont, _Mon._ 31, 35, 43.\n\n_ 3131 Ib._ 251 (p. 364).\n\n 3132 Id. Intr. pp. 308, 309.\n\n 3133 Cumont, Intr. p. 297.\n\n 3134 Dieterich, _Mithrasliturgie_, p. 197; Cumont, Intr. p. 309.\n\n_ 3135 Ib._ p. 308 sqq.\n\n_ 3136 Ib._ p. 310.\n\n 3137 R\u00e9ville, p. 150; cf. _C.I.L._ vi. 510; _Or. Henz._ 2352.\n\n_ 3138 Or. Henz._ 6042; Gasquet, p. 112, on the inscription of Vincentius,\n      priest of Sabazius, who was buried by the side of Aurelius, a priest\n      of Mithra; cf. R\u00e9ville, p. 92; Renan, _M. Aur\u00e8le_, pp. 578-9, n. 1.\n\n 3139 Cumont, Intr. pp. 299, 323.\n\n_ 3140 Ib._ p. 313; cf. Dieterich, _Mithrasliturgie_, pp. 25, 26.\n\n 3141 Tert. _De Praescrip. Haeret._ c. 40; cf. _C.I.L._ vi. 2151, Ordo\n      sacerdotum Mag. suo; xiv. 403; xiv. 65.\n\n 3142 Cumont, Intr. p. 325.\n\n_ 3143 Ib._ p. 325; cf. Lafaye, _Div. d\u2019Alexandrie_, p. 138; flutes and\n      bells have been found among d\u00e9bris of chapels, Cum. _Mon._ 253 (p.\n      380); Intr. p. 68.\n\n 3144 Gasquet, p. 125.\n\n 3145 S. Hieron. _Ep._ 107, \u00a7 2; Gasquet, pp. 91, 2; 96; Cumont, Intr. p.\n      315; R\u00e9ville, p. 97.\n\n_ 3146 De Abstin._ iv. 16. Porphyry connects the degrees with ideas of\n      metempsychosis, _\u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03ba\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd\u03cc\u03c4\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1 \u1f21\u03bc\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03b6\u1ff7\u03b1 \u03b1\u1f30\u03bd\u03b9\u03c4\u03c4\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9,\n      \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 3147 Gasquet, p. 101; R\u00e9ville, p. 97.\n\n 3148 Tert. _De Corona_, xv.\n\n 3149 Cumont, Intr. p. 322.\n\n 3150 Lamprid. _Commodus Ant._ c. 9, sacra Mithriaca homicidio vero\n      polluit, cum illic aliquid ad speciem timoris, vel dici vel fingi\n      soleat; Gasquet, p. 90.\n\n 3151 Cumont, Intr. p. 326. For the organisation of the societies of Magna\n      Mater _v._ Foucart, _Associations Religieuses_, p. 20 sqq. Cf\n      _C.I.L._ vi. 717; vi. 734; vi. 3728; xiv. 286; _Or. Henz._ 6042\n      (Sentinum).\n\n_ 3152 Or. Henz._ 6042; on the doubt, however, as to the meaning of\n      _patroni_ in this inscription _v._ _Henz._ note; and Cumont, Intr.\n      p. 327, n. 4.\n\n 3153 Cumont, _l.c._\n\n_ 3154 Ib._ p. 264. Cf. dedications by slaves or liberti, _Inscr._ 67,\n      245, 175, 53, 410, 47, 178, 292.\n\n 3155 Cf. _Or. Henz._ 6042; Cumont, Intr. p. 327, n. 4.\n\n 3156 For the dimensions of one at Rome _v._ Cumont, _Mon._ 19 (p. 205).\n\n 3157 Tert. _De Pr. Haeret._ c. 40.\n\n 3158 Gasquet, p. 84; Cumont, Intr. p. 318.\n\n 3159 Gasquet, pp. 81, 82; Cumont, Intr. p. 320.\n\n 3160 Just. Mart, c. 78; Porphyr. _De Antro Nymph._ c. 5; Tertull. _De\n      Cor._ xv.; S. Hieron. _Ep._ 57, 107.\n\n 3161 Cumont, Intr. p. 57; _Mon._ 237.\n\n 3162 Cumont, Intr. p. 59. Cf. _C.I.L._ iii. 1096, cryptam cum porticibus\n      et apparatorio et exedra, etc.; iii. 3960.\n\n 3163 Cumont, Intr. p. 61; _v._ the sketch of the Mithraeum under the\n      Church of S. Clement, at Rome, Cumont, _Mon._ 19.\n\n 3164 Id. _Mon._ 19.\n\n 3165 Id. Intr. p. 64.\n\n 3166 Twenty-six lamps were found in one Mithraeum, Cumont, _Mon._ 250 (p.\n      362). For the classical gods, cf. _Mon._ 221 (p. 326), 235, 246 (p.\n      349).\n\n 3167 Apul. _Met._ xi. c. 22.\n\n 3168 Cumont, Intr. p. 279 sqq.\n\n_ 3169 v._ supra, p. 254.\n\n 3170 Suet. _Vesp._ iv. v. vii.; _Tit._ v.; _Domit._ i. xiv.; cf. Renan,\n      _Les \u00c9vangiles_, p. 226 sq.; _L\u2019Ant\u00e9christ_, p. 491.\n\n 3171 D. Cass. xliii. 14; Tac. _Ann._ iv. 15; vi. 18.\n\n 3172 Mart. ix. 4.\n\n 3173 Sen. _Lud. De Morte Claud._ c. 12; cf. Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ i. p.\n      193.\n\n 3174 Suet. _Aug._ c. lii.\n\n 3175 Id. _Calig._ c. xxii.; Meriv. vi. pp. 4-9.\n\n 3176 D. Cass. lxiii. 5, _\u1f26\u03bb\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u03cc\u03c2 \u03c3\u03b5 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u1f10\u03bc\u1f78\u03bd \u03b8\u03b5\u1f78\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03ba\u03c5\u03bd\u03ae\u03c3\u03c9\u03bd \u03c3\u03b5 \u1f61\u03c2\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u039c\u03af\u03b8\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd_.\n\n 3177 Suet. _Aug._ lii.; D. Cass. li. 20; lxvii. 13; Boissier, _Rel. Rom._\n      i. p. 163.\n\n 3178 Id. _Vesp._ c. xxiii. vae, inquit, puto, deus fio.\n\n 3179 Id. _Domit._ c. xiii.\n\n 3180 Virg. _Georg._ i. 498; Warde Fowler, _Rom. Festivals_, p. 258.\n\n 3181 Plut. _Flamin._ c. 16; cf. Herod. v. 47; Thuc. v. 11.\n\n 3182 Plato, _Meno_, 99 D.\n\n 3183 Capitol. _M. Aurel._ c. 18.\n\n 3184 Boissier, _Rel. Rom._ i. 125; Cumont, Intr. p. 283 sqq.\n\n 3185 Amm. Marc. xv. 1, 3.\n\n 3186 Athen. vi. 252, _\u03c4\u03c1\u03ac\u03c0\u03b5\u03b6\u03b1\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b5\u03c4\u03af\u03b8\u03b5\u03b9 \u03c7\u03c9\u03c1\u1f76\u03c2 \u1f40\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03ac\u03b6\u03c9\u03bd \u03c4\u1ff7 \u03b4\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd\u03b9 \u03c4\u1ff7\n      \u03b2\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bb\u03ad\u03c9\u03c2_.\n\n 3187 Cumont, Intr. p. 286.\n\n_ 3188 Ib._ p. 290, n. 2.\n\n 3189 D. Cass. lxiii. 5, _\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f26\u03bb\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u03cc\u03c2 \u03c3\u03b5 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u1f10\u03bc\u1f78\u03bd \u03b8\u03b5\u03cc\u03bd, \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03ba\u03c5\u03bd\u03ae\u03c3\u03c9\u03bd \u03c3\u03b5\n      \u1f61\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u039c\u03af\u03b8\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd_.\n\n 3190 W. Fowler, _Roman Festivals_, p. 169.\n\n 3191 Plut. _De Fort. Rom._ iv. _\u03bf\u1f55\u03c4\u03c9\u03c2 \u1f21 \u03c4\u03cd\u03c7\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03bb\u03b9\u03c0\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c3\u03b1 \u03a0\u03ad\u03c1\u03c3\u03b1\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n      \u1f08\u03c3\u03c3\u03c5\u03c1\u03af\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 ... \u03c4\u1ff7 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03a0\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03c4\u03af\u1ff3 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03b5\u03c1\u03c7\u03bf\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b7, \u03ba\u03c4\u03bb._\n\n 3192 Capitol. _Ant. P._ c. 12.\n\n 3193 Cf. Vop. _Prob._ c. i. \u00a7 3.\n\n 3194 Cf. Amm. Marc. xv. 1, 3.\n\n 3195 Cf. Amm. Marc. xv. 1, 3.\n\n 3196 Amm. Marc. xxiii. 6, 5, unde reges ejusdem gentis praetumidi\n      appellari se patiuntur Solis fratres et Lunae.\n\n 3197 D. Cass. lxxii. 15, 5.\n\n 3198 Treb. Poll. _Gallien._ 16, 18, crinibus suis auri scobem aspersit,\n      etc.\n\n 3199 Cumont, Intr. p. 291, n. 5.\n\n 3200 Cumont, _Inscr._ No. 367.\n\n 3201 Macrob. _Sat._ i. 17; Cumont, Intr. p. 348. The Mithraeum of\n      Sarreburg seems to have been frequented till 395 A.D.\n\n 3202 Cumont, Intr. p. 332, n. 3.\n\n_ 3203 C.I.L._ vi. 504, 846; C. Volusianus was perhaps Praef. Urb. in 365\n      or Consul in 314.\n\n 3204 Herod, ii. 48, 50; Caes. _B.G._ vi. 17; Tac. _Germ._ c. 9.\n\n 3205 Cumont, Intr. pp. 341, 2.\n\n_ 3206 Ib._ p. 339.\n\n_ 3207 Ib._ p. 341; cf. Gasquet, p. 118 sqq.\n\n 3208 Macrob. _Som. Scip._ i. 13.\n\n 3209 Cumont, Intr. p. 344.\n\n 3210 S. Hieron. _Ep._ 107 (Ad Laetam).\n\n 3211 Gasquet, p. 134.\n\n 3212 Cumont, Intr. p. 329; Porphyr. _De Abstin._ iv. 36; cf. Gasquet, p.\n      98.\n\n 3213 Hatch, _Hibbert Lectures_, pp. 49, 135, 292.\n\n 3214 Cumont, Intr. p. 334.\n\n 3215 Gasquet, p. 137.\n\n_ 3216 C.I.L._ vi. 500, 504, 511, 1779.\n\n 3217 Maury, _La Magie_, p. 54.\n\n_ 3218 Ib._ p. 146.\n\n 3219 Macrob. _Sat._ i. 17, \u00a7 4.\n\n 3220 S. Hieron. _Ep._ 107, \u00a7 2.\n\n\n\n\n\n                            TRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTE\n\n\nThe following changes have been made to the text:\n\n      page xx, \u201cPages\u201d added before \u201c560-584\u201d\n      page 13, \u201cpannelled\u201d changed to \u201cpanelled\u201d\n      page 14, \u201caceticism\u201d changed to \u201casceticism\u201d\n      page 16, comma changed to semicolon after \u201c23\u201d\n      page 30, comma added after \u201c17\u201d\n      page 33, \u201cBossier\u201d changed to \u201cBoissier\u201d\n      page 53, \u201cproem.\u201d changed to \u201cprooem.\u201d\n      page 55, period added after \u201ccharacter\u201d and after \u201cv\u201d\n      page 96, \u201csick bed\u201d changed to \u201csick-bed\u201d\n      page 176, period added after \u201cCapitol\u201d\n      page 205, semicolon added after \u201csq.\u201d\n      page 211, comma changed to period after \u201cHenz\u201d\n      page 212, \u201cC\u00e6sar\u201d changed to \u201cCaesar\u201d\n      page 216, italics removed from \u201cMarq.\u201d, \u201cwechselude\u201d changed to\n      \u201cwechselnde\u201d\n      page 224, period added after \u201cwealth\u201d\n      page 228, \u201cmedi\u00e6val\u201d changed to \u201cmediaeval\u201d\n      page 229, \u201c1\u201d changed to \u201ci.\u201d\n      page 284, comma added after \u201cBoissier\u201d\n      page 289, \u201cfuhrt\u201d changed to \u201cf\u00fchrt\u201d\n      page 300, \u201c\u00c6neas\u201d changed to \u201cAeneas\u201d\n      page 305, period changed to comma after \u201cBurgmann\u201d. period added\n      after \u201c2\u201d\n      page 312, \u201cfastidiodosi\u201d changed to \u201cfastidiosi\u201d\n      page 320, \u201cintelliges\u201d changed to \u201cintelleges\u201d\n      page 325, italics removed from \u201cLaert.\u201d\n      page 332, comma added after \u201cfemale\u201d\n      page 338, \u201c_\u03c4\u03ac_\u201d changed to \u201c_\u03c4\u1f70_\u201d\n      page 348, \u201cGreich.\u201d changed to \u201cGriech.\u201d\n      page 359, \u201cPhil der.\u201d changed to \u201cPhil. der\u201d\n      page 397, comma changed to period after \u201cSaturn\u201d\n      page 405, period added after \u201c_\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03b4\u03b9\u03b4\u03bf\u03cd\u03c2_\u201d\n      page 407, period added after \u201c64\u201d\n      page 415, \u201cxv;\u201d changed to \u201cxv.;\u201d\n      page 437, period added after \u201cDiss\u201d\n      page 457, p. added before \u201c1051\u201d\n      page 459, period added after \u201cpiece\u201d\n      page 464, period added after \u201c_\u03ba\u03c4\u03bb_\u201d\n      page 475, comma added after \u201c23\u201d\n      page 480, \u201cAesclepius\u201d changed to \u201cAsclepius\u201d\n      page 513, period removed after \u201cAd\u201d\n      page 517, comma added after \u201c2\u201d\n      page 524, \u201cmythop\u0153ic\u201d changed to \u201cmythopoeic\u201d\n      page 550, comma added after \u201cFoucart\u201d\n      page 556, \u201cra\u00fcmliche\u201d changed to \u201cr\u00e4umliche\u201d\n      page 557, parenthesis removed before \u201cPuteoli\u201d\n      page 567, \u201cArchaeol.\u201d changed to \u201cArch\u00e6ol.\u201d\n      page 578, period added after \u201c_\u03ba\u03c4\u03bb_\u201d\n      page 584, comma added after \u201clonely\u201d\n      page 587, \u201cMithrasdientes\u201d changed to \u201cMithrasdienstes\u201d\n      page 614, italics added to \u201cMon.\u201d\n      page 627, \u201cCaeonius\u201d changed to \u201cCaeionius\u201d\n      page 628, comma added after \u201cAurelius\u201d and \u201cHadrian\u201d\n      page 629, \u201cMithriac\u201d changed to \u201cMithraic\u201d\n      page 633, comma added after \u201c_ib._\u201d\n\nVariations in hyphenation (e.g. \u201cspringtime\u201d, \u201cspring-time\u201d),\ncapitalisation (\u201cinscription\u201d, \u201cInscription\u201d) and spelling (\u201cunder world\u201d,\n\u201cunderworld\u201d; \u201cmediaeval\u201d, \u201cmedieval\u201d; \u201cpraetorian\u201d, \u201cpretorian\u201d) have not\nbeen changed.","title":"Roman Society from Nero to Marcus Aurelius","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":278224}