Aurelian | Page 8

of the great historian, to whose hand and eye of taste the chief beauties
of the scene are to be traced, then afterward selected by Vespasian as
an imperial villa, is now lately become the chosen retreat of Aurelian. It
has indeed lost a part of its charms since it has been embraced, by the
extension of the new walls, within the limits of the city; but enough
remain to justify abundantly the preference of a line of emperors. It is
there that we see Livia most as we have been used to do, and where are
forcibly brought to our minds the hours passed by us so instructively in
the gardens of Zenobia. Often Aurelian is of our company, and throws
the light of his strong intellect upon whatever subject it is we discuss.
He cannot, however, on such occasions, thoroughly tame to the tone of
gentle society, his imperious and almost rude nature. The peasant of
Pannonia will sometimes break through, and usurp the place of
emperor; but it is only for a moment; for it is pleasing to note how the
presence of Livia quickly restores him to himself; when, with more
grace than one would look for, he acknowledges his fault, ascribing it
sportively to the fogs of the German marshes. It amuses us to observe
the power which the polished manners and courtly ways of Livia
exercise over Aurelian, whose ambition seems now as violently bent
upon subduing the world by the displays of taste, grace, and
magnificence, as it once was to do it--and is still indeed--by force of
arms. Having astonished mankind in one way, he would astonish them
again in quite another; and to this later task his whole nature is
consecrated with as entire a devotion as ever it was to the other. Livia is
in all these things his model and guide; and never did soldier learn to
catch, from the least motion or sign of the general, his will, than does
he, to the same end, study the countenance and the voice of the
Empress. Yet is there, as you will believe knowing the character of
Aurelian as well as you do, nothing mean nor servile in this. He is ever
himself, and beneath this transparent surface, artificially assumed, you
behold, feature for feature, the lineaments of the fierce soldier glaring
forth in all their native wildness and ferocity. Yet we are happy that
there exists any charm potent enough to calm, but for hours or days, a
nature so stern and cruel as to cause perpetual fears for the violences in
which at any moment it may break out. The late slaughter in the very
streets of Rome, when the Coelian ran with the blood of fifteen

thousand Romans, butchered within sight of their own homes, with the
succeeding executions, naturally fill us with apprehensions for the
future. We call him generous, and magnanimous, and so he is,
compared with former tyrants who have polluted the throne--Tiberius,
Commodus, or Maximin; but what title has he to that praise, when tried
by the standard which our own reason supplies of those great virtues? I
confess it was not always so. His severity was formerly ever on the side
of justice; it was indignation at crime or baseness which sometimes
brought upon him the charge of cruelty--never the wanton infliction of
suffering and death. But it certainly is not so now. A slight cause now
rouses his sleeping passions to a sudden fury, often fatal to the first
object that comes in his way. But enough of this.
Do not forget to tell me again of the Old Hermit of the mountains, and
that you have visited him--if indeed he be yet among the living.
Even with your lively imagination, Fausta, you can hardly form an idea
of the sensation which my open assertion of Christian principles and
assumption of the Christian name has made in Rome. I intended when I
sat down to speak only of this, but see how I have been led away! My
letters will be for the most part confined, I fear, to the subjects which
engross both myself and Julia most--such as relate to the condition and
prospects of the new religion, and to the part which we take in the
revolution which is going on. Not that I shall be speechless upon other
and inferior topics, but that upon this of Christianity I shall be
garrulous and overflowing. I believe that in doing this, I shall consult
your preferences as well as my own. I know you to be desirous of
principles better than any which as yet you have been able to discover,
and that you will gladly learn whatever I may have it in my power to
teach you from this quarter.