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have been commissioned to order Seneca to put himself to death. Canina conjectures that Granius may have obtained the villa as the reward of his services. If Seneca did not live, at least he died, as a philosopher. It is harsh, perhaps, to charge his memory with the crimes of his ungovernable pupil ; scarcely possible to relieve his memory from cowardly acquiescence in some of the worst of those crimes. His philosophy, as shown in his writings, is even a more difficult problem. Exquisite gleams of premature humanity, which have tempted many, in utter ignorance of the history of the times, which makes such a notion impossible, to refer them to a higher and purer source, even to intercourse with St. Paul; a Stoicism which strives to be calm and majestic, but is far too theatrical, laboured, and emphatic for true commanding majesty: all in a detestable style,-a rope of sand, as it has been described ; brief epigrams for sentences, without cohesion, flow, natural sequence or harmony. The remains of Seneca, Tacitus tells us, were burned on the spot; we may conjecture that his ashes were gathered into some cheap urn. Canina imagines a monument; and in a head, upon a fragment discovered near the spot, he would recognise the likeness of the philosopher. And he has explained, too, with singular ingenuity, a bas-relief (Pl. xix.), representing, from Herodotus, the scene of the death of the son of Cresus, which might have belonged to the tomb. Of this we presume he would suppose the moral to be, that no one should be called happy before the day of his death :

Dicique beatus Ante obitum nemo, supremaque funera debet. Another mile and we stand before the colossal Cæcilia Metella tomb. This was within the older circuit of all visitors to Rome, and close to it are the ruins of the mediæval fortress of the Gaetani. Byron has made this noble ruin his own. Even in his descriptive poetry (and when he was in the vein what descriptive poet was equal to Byron ?) there are few passages of equal truth and sublimity. We cannot refrain from

quoting a few lines—would we had space for more-especially the first stanza, which so well displays the present aspect of the monument:

But who was she, the Lady of the dead
Tomb'd in a palace? Was she chaste and fair ?
Worthy a king's, or more, a Roman's bed ?
What race of chiefs and heroes did she bear?
What daughter of her beauties was the heir ?
How lived-how loved-how died she? Was she not
So honour'd-and conspicuously there,
Where meaner relics must not dare to rot,
Placed to commemorate a more than mortal lot?

Thus much alone we know-Metella died,
The wealthiest Roman's wife : Behold his love or pride.

Within the last three miles from Rome the approach to the great city was marked by the larger intermingling of other stately and sacred edifices with the monuments of the dead. There was the temple of the Deus Rediculus, indicating the height from which Hannibal is said to have surveyed and then turned his back on unassailable Rome. No wonder ! For Hannibal, ever conqueror in the field—at Trebia, at Thrasymene, at Cannæ,—was baffled by almost every town which he attempted to besiege ; for his army was utterly unfit for such operations, unprovided with the materials for a siege,—the mining tools, the hands accustomed to use them, the engines, and all the apparatus necessary for such work. Terror or treachery opened the gates of fatal Capua.

After this appear, on one side of the road, the valley and fountain of Egeria, of which the holy romance, the venerable reminiscences of Numa, were, to the indignation of Juvenal, profaned in his day with its occupation by the miserable Jews. These were no longer flourishing merchants—it may have been already money-lenders, for such, as we know from Cicero, they were in Asia Minor—but crushed down, by the hatred excited by the obstinate war, and by the influx of slaves (now scattered by millions throughout the Roman Empire), into mean pedlars,

and defiling the soil and the waters of this sacred spot with their provision-baskets and pallets of straw.

The noble arch of Drusus perhaps bestrode the way; and other temples crowded the road up to the Capenian Gate. But there were monuments too, and those singularly illustrative of almost every period in the annals of Rome. There was the tomb of Romolus, the son of the last Pagan Emperor of Rome. Maxentius, perhaps in honour of that son, had laid out a vast circus, as though the votive offering of expiring Paganism. There was the tomb of Geta, who fell by the fratricidal hand of Caracalla, a fearful memorial of the crimes of what we call the second period of the empire. There were the sepulchres of the freedmen of Augustus, and of the freedmen of Livia, both, as might be expected, very capacious. The ashes of Augustus himself, as is well known, reposed in the Campus Martius. There was a tomb, which, though raised by a private man, must have been of unexampled splendour, that of Priscilla, the wife of Abascantius, a favourite of Domitian. It is well, among all the monuments of pride and crime, to dwell on this one prodigal memorial of true domestic affection; and this tomb, and the inmate of the tomb, are described in a work of one of the later Roman poets, worthy to live. Like all the verse of Statius, the consolation, as we may call it, inscribed to Abascantius, is in many parts strained, forced, exaggerated; but there are lines with a depth of tenderness unsurpassed—difficult to equal, in Latin verse. He describes the dying moments of Priscilla :

Jamque cadunt vultus, oculisque novissimus error,
Obtusæque aures, nisi cum vox sola mariti
Noscitur. Illum unum media de morte reversa
Mens videt: illum ægris circumdat fortiter ulnis
Immotas obversa genas, nec sole supremo
Lumina, sed dulci mavult satiare marito.

All Rome poured forth to see the costly funeral procession of Priscilla, to the Appian Way, on the banks of the Almo, near the temple of Cybele :

Est locus ante urbem, qua primum surgitur ingens
Appia, quaque Italo gemitus Almone Cybele

She vas interred (it should seem an unusual course), not burned; her husband could not have endured the sight and the tumult of a cremation :

Nec enim fumantia busta,
Clamoremque rogi potuit perferre.

The tomb must have been most sumptuous. All around stood, in niches, marble statues of Priscilla, in the garb and attributes of various goddesses >

Mox in varias mutata novaris
Effigies : hoc ære Ceres, hoc lucida Gnossis,
Illo Maia tholo, Venus hoc non improba saxo.
Accipiunt vultus, haud indignata, decoros
Numina.—Statii Silvæ, v. 1.

Nearest to the walls of Rome, as though holding the guardians of her impregnable gates, was the well-known tomb of the Scipios. The greatest of the race, Africanus, reposed not in this sepulchre; he died, and his ashes remained, at Liternum. But there is no reason to doubt that his place was filled by the great father of Roman poetry, the conservator of her legendary annals, Ennius. And surely we may refer to the whole race the splendid lines of Lucretius. Scipio, the thunderbolt of war, the terror of Carthage, bequeathed his bones to the earth, even as if he had been the vilest of slaves ; and wilt thou whose life, even while thou art living and in the light of day, is little more than death, wilt thou struggle, and be indignant that thou must die?'

Scipiades fulmen belli, Carthaginis horror
Ossa dedit terræ, proinde ac famul infimus esset.

Tu vero dubitabis et indignabere obire,
Mortua quoi vita est prope jam vivo atque videnti ?

Lucret, iii. 1047-48, 1058-59.

Thus, along each of the great roads which led to Rome, was, as it were, a great necropolis, a line of stately sepulchres, in which lay the remains of her illustrious dead, and of those who might aspire to the rank of the illustrious. We may conjecture indeed from Cicero that, even in his day, the most famous, and hallowed by the most famous men, was the Appian necropolis. In the well-known passage, where Tully would infer the immortality of the soul from the greatness of the older Romans, he says: “When you go out of the Capenian Gate, where you behold the tombs of Calatinus, of the Scipios, of the Servilii, of the Metelli, can you suppose that they are miserable ?' (" An tu egressus porta Capena, cum Calatini, Scipionum, Serviliorum, Metellorum sepulchra vides, miseros putas illos ? )

But during the early Empire appeared in Rome a religious community, among whom reverence for the dead, a profound feeling for the preservation of the buried body in its integrity, was not only a solemn duty, but a deep-rooted passion. The Christians not only inherited from their religious ancestors the Jews the ancient and immemorial usage of interment, but this respect for the dead was clasped and riveted, as it were, round their hearts by the great crowning event of their faith. Christ, in their belief, had risen bodily from the grave; a bodily resurrection was to be their glorious privilege. Some, many indeed, no doubt in the first ages of Christianity, looked for this resuscitation as speedy, imminent, almost immediate. Their great Apostle indeed had taught a more sublime, less material tenet; he had spoken of glorified bodies, not natural bodies : Flesh and blood cannot enter into the kingdom of God, neither doth corruption inherit incorruption. But the sanctity of the body committed to the earth was still rooted in the very depths of their souls; the burning of the dead was to them a profanation. Long before relics came to be worshipped, the mangled and scattered limbs, it might be, of the confessor or martyr, were a pious trust, to be watched over with reverential care, to

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