Aurelian | Page 5

William Ware
to degrade the subject. I retain the picture because of
its supposed truth.
Portia, as you will believe, is full of wonder and sorrow at these things.
Soon after my library had received its last additions, my mother came
to see what she had already heard of so much. As she entered the
apartment, I was sitting in my accustomed seat, with Julia at my side,
and both of us gazing in admiration at the figures I have just described.
We were both too much engrossed to notice the entrance of Portia, our
first warning of her presence being her hand laid upon my head. We
rose and placed her between us.
'My son,' said she, looking intently as she spoke upon the statues before
us, 'what strange looking figures are these? That upon my left might
serve for Jupiter, but for the roll and the stylus. And why place you
beings of character so opposite, as these appear to have been, side by
side? This other upon my right--ah, how beautiful it is! What mildness
in those eyes, and what a divine repose over the form, which no event,
not the downfall of a kingdom nor its loss, would seem capable to
disturb. Is it the peace loving Numa?'
'Not so,' said Julia; 'there stands Numa, leaning on the sacred shield,
from the centre of which beams the countenance of the divine Egeria.'
'Yes, I see it,' replied Portia; and rising from her seat, she stood gazing
round the apartment, examining its various appointments. When her
eye had sought out the several objects, and dwelt upon them a moment,
she said, in tones somewhat reproachful, as much so as it is in her
nature to assume:
'Where, Lucius, are the gods of Rome? Do those who have, through so
many ages, watched over our country, and guarded our house, deserve
no honor at your hands? Does not gratitude require at least that their
images should be here, so that, whether you yourself worship them or
not, their presence may inspire others with reverence? But alas for the
times! Piety seems dead; or, with the faith that inspires it, it lives, but in
a few, who will soon disappear, and religion with them. Whose forms
are these, Lucius? concerning one I can now easily surmise--but the

other, this stern and terrific man, who is he?'
'That,' I replied, 'is Moses, the founder of Judaism.'
'Immortal gods!' exclaimed Portia, 'the statue of a Jew in the halls of
the Pisos! Well may it be that Rome approaches her decline, when her
elder sons turn against her.'
'Nay, my mother, I am not a Jew.'
'I would thou wert, rather than be what I suppose thou art, a Christian.
The Jew, Lucius, can boast of antiquity, at least, in behalf of his
religion. But the faith which you would profess and extend, is but of
yesterday. Would the gods ever leave mankind without religion? Is it
only to-day that they reveal the truth? Have they left us for these many
ages to grope along in error? Never, Lucius, can I believe it. It is
enough for me that the religion of Rome is old as Rome, to endear it to
my heart, and commend it to my understanding. It is not for the first
time, to-day, that the gods have spoken.'
'But, my dear mother,' I rejoined, 'if age makes truth, there are older
religions than this of Rome. Judaism itself is older, by many centuries.
But it is not because a religion is new or old, that I would receive or
reject it.' The only question is, does it satisfy my heart and mind, and is
it true? The faith which you engrafted upon my infant mind, fails to
meet the wants of my nature, and upon looking for its foundations, I
find them not.'
'Is thy nature different from mine, Lucius? Surely, thou art my own
child! It has satisfied me and my nature. I ask for nothing else, or
better.'
'There are some natures, mother, by the gods so furnished and filled
with all good desires and affections, that their religion is born with
them and is in them. It matters little under what outward form and
administration of truth they dwell; no system could injure them--none
would greatly benefit. They are of the family of God, by birth, and are
never disinherited.'

'Yes, Portia,' said Julia, 'natural and divine instincts make you what
others can become only through the powerful operation of some
principle out of, and superior to, anything they find within. For me, I
know not what I should have been, without the help which Christianity
has afforded. I might have been virtuous, but I could not have been
happy. You surely rejoice, when the weak find that
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