Marius the Epicurean, vol 1 | Page 4

Latin name.* "The red rose
came first," says a quaint German mystic, speaking of "the mystery of
so-called white things," as being "ever an after- thought--the doubles,
or seconds, of real things, and themselves but half-real,
half-material--the white queen, the white witch, the white mass, which,
as the black mass is a travesty of the true mass turned to evil by
horrible old witches, is celebrated by young candidates for the
priesthood with an unconsecrated host, by way of rehearsal." So,
white-nights, I suppose, after something like the same analogy, should
be [14] nights not of quite blank forgetfulness, but passed in continuous
dreaming, only half veiled by sleep. Certainly the place was, in such
case, true to its fanciful name in this, that you might very well conceive,

in face of it, that dreaming even in the daytime might come to much
there.
The young Marius represented an ancient family whose estate had
come down to him much curtailed through the extravagance of a certain
Marcellus two generations before, a favourite in his day of the
fashionable world at Rome, where he had at least spent his substance
with a correctness of taste Marius might seem to have inherited from
him; as he was believed also to resemble him in a singularly pleasant
smile, consistent however, in the younger face, with some degree of
sombre expression when the mind within was but slightly moved.
As the means of life decreased, the farm had crept nearer and nearer to
the dwelling-house, about which there was therefore a trace of workday
negligence or homeliness, not without its picturesque charm for some,
for the young master himself among them. The more observant
passer-by would note, curious as to the inmates, a certain amount of
dainty care amid that neglect, as if it came in part, perhaps, from a
reluctance to disturb old associations. It was significant of the national
character, that a sort of elegant gentleman farming, as we say, had been
much affected by some of the most cultivated [15] Romans. But it
became something more than an elegant diversion, something of a
serious business, with the household of Marius; and his actual interest
in the cultivation of the earth and the care of flocks had brought him, at
least, intimately near to those elementary conditions of life, a reverence
for which, the great Roman poet, as he has shown by his own half-
mystic pre-occupation with them, held to be the ground of primitive
Roman religion, as of primitive morals. But then, farm-life in Italy,
including the culture of the olive and the vine, has a grace of its own,
and might well contribute to the production of an ideal dignity of
character, like that of nature itself in this gifted region. Vulgarity
seemed impossible. The place, though impoverished, was still
deservedly dear, full of venerable memories, and with a living
sweetness of its own for to-day.
To hold by such ceremonial traditions had been a part of the struggling
family pride of the lad's father, to which the example of the head of the

state, old Antoninus Pius--an example to be still further enforced by his
successor--had given a fresh though perhaps somewhat artificial
popularity. It had been consistent with many another homely and
old-fashioned trait in him, not to undervalue the charm of exclusiveness
and immemorial authority, which membership in a local priestly
college, hereditary in his house, conferred upon him. To set a real value
on [16] these things was but one element in that pious concern for his
home and all that belonged to it, which, as Marius afterwards
discovered, had been a strong motive with his father. The ancient
hymn--Fana Novella!--was still sung by his people, as the new moon
grew bright in the west, and even their wild custom of leaping through
heaps of blazing straw on a certain night in summer was not
discouraged. The privilege of augury itself, according to tradition, had
at one time belonged to his race; and if you can imagine how, once in a
way, an impressible boy might have an inkling, an inward mystic
intimation, of the meaning and consequences of all that, what was
implied in it becoming explicit for him, you conceive aright the mind
of Marius, in whose house the auspices were still carefully consulted
before every undertaking of moment.
The devotion of the father then had handed on loyally--and that is all
many not unimportant persons ever find to do--a certain tradition of life,
which came to mean much for the young Marius. The feeling with
which he thought of his dead father was almost exclusively that of awe;
though crossed at times by a not unpleasant sense of liberty, as he could
but confess to himself, pondering, in the actual absence of so weighty