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♦

THE ROMAN EXILE ;

A TAliB,

FQUHDBd V90V IHOIDBNl**

|H TIE REI6N OP lAKCVS iUBSiniS, Blffim OF Ifil^

JOSBN S.

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AtTBOR <mI " LEiaVRE HOVBl."

8AIKT JOttlr t

PRINTED FOR THE AtlTHOR;
BY ROBERT SBIVBS, MARKET SQUARftv

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87P1I1IMZBBX0N:

BIS EXCELLENCY MAJOR GENERAL SIR JOHN HARTET,

LIEUTENANT GOVERNOR,

AMD COMMANDBB-IN-CHIBF OF THE PROVINCE OF NBW-BBjmSWICK,

K. G. B. AND K. C. H., &.C. Sec. &c.

THIS VOLUMK

18 DEDICATED,

By His Excellency's

Very grateful Servant,
And Admirer,

JOHN K. LASKEY.

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>ji?*' ,

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Vifis

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Thb high, the mountain majeBty of worth
Should be and shall, survivor of its woe,

And from its immortality look forth

On the sun's titce, like yonder Alpine snow,

!Impenshablyj>ure, beyond all things below I

Ji 'ill'.

•Bmoii.

lUuoion's force divine is but disj^ayeA
3n deep desertion of all human aid ;
'To succour in extremes is her delight,
And cheer the heart when terror strikes 'the sight.
"Vf^ disbdieving our jwn MDses, gaxe,
-And wonder what a mertal^B heart can rsise^
To triumph at misfortunes, smile at gri^
And comfort those w : 'Muil to seek relief;
Vfe gase ; and as we ga; 3, werith, fame decay,
.And all the world's bright glories liiule away.

ZiMMESMAN's SoLITUDt,

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ALETHES,

OH,

TUB ROMAN BZZ&ll.

CHAPTER I.

AciLLiA Was the daughter of Servius Valerius, a Ite*
man General, and of Annia Cornificia, the only sister of
Marcus Aurelius, Emperor of Rome. The time of her
father being devoted to the army, the education of Acillia
devolved principally upon her mother, whose mind in
masculine energy, bore a striking resemblance to that of
iker brother ; and who, having received the best education
which could be obtained in Rome, knew how to appre-
ciate and develope the talents of her daughter. The best
teachers were employed to instruct her in the fashion-
able arts and sciences of the times ; and she was also
taught the language of Greece that she might become fa-
miliar with its literature in its original purity.

Not only the hours appropriated for lectures and study
did Acillia devote to the pursuit of knowledge, but in the

ATiBTHES, OH

*early morning and the far-odvonced night she pored over
the philosophy of Zeno, or studied the beauties of Sopho-
•cles and the poets of her own country. This incessant
application could not but impair a constitution naturally
delicate, and before the age at which her education would
ibe finished and she should maintain her superior rank in
'flociety, her health was greatly reduced, and at times her
>life despaired of; and an indispensible alternative wassug*
getted, a remevail to the eastern provinces. Accordingly
'the city of Smynia in Lydia was selected as the most aot-
ilubrious and pleasant for her residence. It was situated
(upon the eastern extremity of a Qulf of its own«ame,
•and which was also called Uie Bay of Hermoeus ; and was
i at this period of the world, ^«e of the most important places
•of the Empire in the East. It commanded an extensive
conmerce wiUi all the cities of Lydia, as well as with
those of the countries east of it, and the neighbouring pro-
vinces. In its schools and literature it rivalled Tarsus
and Athens ; and its climate was 4>ne of the most agree-
. able of Asia Minor. "" ; ; -u

The fiuigue of a Journey of over three hundred leagues,
tnotwithstanding 4t was attended with the most delightful
'breezes and the sunshine of Spring, reduced Acillia to
'the point of death; and the idea of her recovery was totally
tabandoned.— But the attention of the most skilful phy-
sicians, together with a change of climate and relaxation
from every study, produced the anticipated effect on her
^constitution ; and she had, after several months, the happi-
ness to know that her health was returning.

Her principal physician was a man of very singular

THE ROMAN EXIT.E.

duiposition and habits, but as extensively learned in hit
profession as the knowledge of the times would permit ;
and might be said to have been eminent. He had
been a scholar of the celebrated Galen ot Pergamus, and
was one of the most adhesive disciples of that great
prince of physicians. In his manners he was decidedly
austere and forbidding, without any portion of cheerful'
ness or benevolence, two ingredients very requisite in the
composition of a physician's characi,i.i ; and beinga patrt*
cian, he extended the circle of his pmctice only to ther
friends of his o\vn cast ; nor did he, unless upon imminent
occasioned personally administer ta those who intrusted
their lives to his skill. His pupilis, who were capable^
served' out his prescriptions and executed' his injunctionr*
At the time of which we are spetfung,he was guardian
to his nephew Alethes, who was pursuing the study of
medicine under his direction.. Young Akthes, being of a
studious tun> of mind, had acquired a knowledge of uni^
versal history and the manners and customs of the known
nations of histimx) ; and wasno^v passing the remainder of
his minority with his uncle, that he might the better ac-
quire thejDhilosophy and learning of the age. His fit-
ther had^iedand teft him — his only kindred beskle his
brother Superius — heitto immense treasures, which he had
accumulated during his administration of the government
— Alethes was the youngest of four children, three of
whom died in early life ; and as he survived them, his fa-
ther did not refuse any expense upon his education. —
He had designed him for the affiiirs of State, and it was
rather the inrlination of Alethes ; but his uncle who coa-

ALETHES, OR

I ■

sidered no profession so congenial to the habits of his ne-
phew as his own, scarcely allowed him a choice, who,
striving to please and obey, resigned himself to his uncle's
wishes^ — at least, until he should become of age. His
character was the very opposite of his guardian's. If the
latter was austere and ungenerous, the former was open
and benevolent ; if his unck excluded himself from all in-
tercourae but with those of his own rank, and.admitted no
other syi^em of religion but that of his ancestors, Alethes
associated himself so far with the plebian poor, as to miti-
gate their poverty and administer to their distress in sicjf-
ness ; and if he did not reject the religion of his &ther, he
believed in the philosophy of Socrates, and sought to
know the religious doctrines and ceremonies of other na-
tions. |i'

During the protracted ilhiess of Adltia, Alethes had
been deputed to attend her almost daily ; and if his gentle
and polished manners, his exquisite symmetry of form, his
sympathy and most assiduous attention, did not win the af-
fection, it at least excited the gratitude, of the beautiful in-
valid. Nor uid the disciple of Esculapius regard Acillia
only as a patient. His accustomed visits were continued
long after she had regained her health, and r^Phned her
studies i and he, who had acted in Ihe capacity of a phy-
sician, now became a friend, who assisted Acillia to explore

other regions of Grecian literature than she had before
known. '

Two years had already passed since Acillia left Rome,

Having an exquisite taste, and an unbounded love for

scenes of nature and art, during this time she visited-

THE ROMAN EXILE.

Athens, Ephesus and Militus, where, in former days, ex-
isted the greatest wonders and the greatest men, that ever
appeared in the world. At Athens she saw the Stoa, the
celebrated portico where the immortar Zeno, four hun*
dred years before, led* captive the Athenian youth by the
charms of his philosophy, and the virtue of his life. At
this period of the city it still possessed a part of its origi-
nal splendor, and contained those curious pictures which
a^iriently adorned it, and the statue of Minerva set there
by the Athenians, the former executed by Pandsenus, and
the latter by his brother Phidias. Acillia took a pecu-
liar interest in anything that related to the life of Zeno.
She had imbibed the spirit from her uncle Aurelius, who
was one of his most devoted and celebrated disciples then
living ; and knew that he would be gratified with any-
thing she could communicate r^pecting the life of the
founder of his system of Philosophy. She also saw the
philosopher's house, where the Athenians, from their ad-
miration of his talents, and the great reverence universal-
ly paid him, lefl the keys of the city as the safest reposi-
tory. Before it still remained his statue of brass, which
the people erected to his &me, and which had been pre-
served durihg four centuries amid the ruins of time, and
the revolutions of the city.

The health of Acillia was now perfectly recovered,
her person improved, and the energies of her mind
strengthened and disciplined by study end reflection.
And the time had arrived for her departure for Rome.
Alethes, to whom she felt, herself indebted as a physician,
and from whose society she had derived many pleasures,

■* — « w *— t i' n 'F ". ft n ^w

AliETHES, OR

held noplace in her affections, &rther than gratitude which
ihe admiration of his talents and virtues naturally inspir-
ed; and they separated as friends, mutually endeared
by long intercourse, and engaged in the same pursuits

iof literature. vi./^'v-- i '^ri. •*; :. .','^'

--*■■'■• . . • *•

CHAPTER IL

We must pass over a period of five years in the history
-of Acillia, which she passed alternately at Rome, and
her Other's villa, several leagues distant. She had in ear-
ly youth been affianced in marriage to a young noble-
man called Clodius Corrinnius, the son of a wealthy citi-
zen of Tarquinia. They had seen each other at Rome
in childhood, where they received the elements of their
education, but from that tim« had been separated. Clo-
dius had been long engaged in the wars of Africa, Dacia
and Gennany ; but his return was now daily expected,
and his nuptials with Acillia, which had only been defer-
red, by his unavoidable absence, were to be celebrated
with great pomp at the palace of Servius Valerius.

The villa or country residence of a rich citizen of
Rome, at this period of her glory, was indeed mag^nificent
— Sallust, Seneca, and Horace relate that some villas
were built after the manner and opulence of cities.—-
That of Servius Valeriu* was situated at the mouth of a
xivex a little east of Antium, and commanded a most ex-

THE HOMAN EXILE.

tensive and delightful prospect. To the west, and beyond
Antium, which was at this time in ruins, lay the Mediter-
ninean Sea extending itself south and south-east. From
the sublime Appennines on the north-east, the river rolled
its course in silence ; and &r to the east, until lost in the
distance, extended fruitful hills and vales. The villa itself
was of stone, several stories high, and very capacious.
Besides dining-rooms, parlours, chambers, tennis-courts,
baths, terraces, and walks, adapted to the different seasons
of the year, there were spacious apartments for wine, oil,
and fruits ; extensive granaries, store-houses, and reposi^-
tories. Attached to these were buildings for the accom^
?^odation of slaves, workmen, and horses ; rooms curious-
ly fashioned, containing rare and beautiful birds ; and
beyond the whole an extensive park. In the centre of this
villa arose a high tower, in the upper part of which was
a magnificent supping-room, furnished with couches,
where the guests, while reclining at table, might enjoy the
delightful prospect around.

Acillia was seated at a window of a small apartment
leading from the supper-room. The sun was setting on
the still and shining Mediterranean, and as he seemed to
sink into the sea, there shot obliquely beams of amber
light from his orb, and spread over the waters, which ap-
peared a mass of dying flame, half persuading her that
the burning chariot of Apollo was guided by another
Phaeton. The beautiful blue of the firmament was
changing to the most gorgeous purple, and overspread-
ing the earth and sea with its exquisite tints. Acillia
looked forth upon the scene with those indescribable sea-

ttl

ALETHfiS, OR

sations of pleasure/ which the contemplation of the beau-
tiful and sublime in nature, alone can produce.

As the sun withdrew from the delightful landscape
which had been so richly illuminated, his glory seemed
to have interpenetrated all nature ; and the steps of night
obtruded to veil such beauty from admiring mortals.
The purple of the sky faded away and was lost in liquid
depths of sther ; and the light of the moon and the stars
soon succeeded that of the day.

Acillia looked intensely up to heaven, and communed
with her heart, whether among those shining orbs did
there reside beings who were tangible to mortals ; or were
there those who were ever invisible and unknown to
man, but who tenderly watched over his destiny. Her own
religion taught her that there existed gods and immortal
spirits, who were subject to pain and pleasure like herself;
who were pleased or offended with the offerings, which
mortals presented to them ; and that they could only be wor-
shipped by sacrifices. The book open before her, which,
she had been attentively rieading, taught her that there
was only one God, who presided over the affairs of mor-
tals ;-^that«all power and knowledge were his attributes ;
and that he was worshipped only by prayer and a blame-
less Ufe. These thoughts had long absorbed her mind,
and she felt half assured that the new philosophy which
she had been lately perusing, was far more logical than
the mythology of her own country.

She again unrolled the manuscript, but half distrustful-
ly, and as she turned over its leaves, a passage arrested her
eye, which contained the substance of the Christian reli-

.THE nOMAN EXILE.

g'ioil, and from which she learned that God had sent his son
into the world, to whom was given power over all man-
kind to bestow immortal life upon those who were his dis-
ciples. The passage was the following :

" ICathos edokas auto exoosian pases sarkos, ina pan o
dedokas auto dose autois zoen aionion. Aute de estin e
aionois zoe, ina ginoskosi se ton monon alethinon Theon ,
kai on apesteitas lesoun Christon. Ergo se edoxasa epi
tes ges : to ergoa eteleiosa o dedok^ moi ina poieso.
Kai nun doxason me su pater, para seauto te doxe c eichon,
pro tou twi kosmon einai, para soi." * » v^ ; i?

As she read these words, she raised her hand to her
head, and sunk into a profound meditaticm ; then glancing
again at the scroll, her thoughts gradually formed them^
selves into a soliloquy. — "Where dwells he then, this
mighty God, who overlooks the world; who deigns not
to regard mysterious rites, offerings, and sacrifice? Sits he
in heaven above great Jupiter 1 But Jupiter is not — there
are no gods but One, and he is Lord of all the elements—
reads evety thought of man— scans every act — rewards
all virtue, and punishes all crime."

Thus mused Acillia ; her mind like the sky on which
she gazed, dimly illumined with reflected light.

The soil evening breeze lifted the jetty ringiets from her
^eck — she was about to withdmw, when the soimd of mu-
sic caught her ear; and looking out upon the sea, she dis-
covered in the distance, a small pleasure galley impelled
by oars, making its way towards the shore.

* John^ xvii» verses 2» 3, 4,, 5,

ALETHES, OR

The evening wa» far advanced — the feast had been
spread, and the magnificently furnished hall echoed sounds
ef revelry. Servius Valerius had returned victorious
from battle; and among the guests by whom he was sur^
rounded, conspicuous for his manly figure, his noble but
isomewhat haughty bearing, and the restlessness of his
piercing eye, was Clodius Corrinnius, the affianced hus-
band of Acillia.

It would be uieless to attempt to describe the varying
emotions of the betrothed at their first meeting, since early
childhood. The fame of the Roman soldier had not unr
frequently greeted the ear of the studious and thoughtful,
but dignified and heroic Acillia ; and the beauty, graces,
and accomplishments of the latter, had ofien been a themo
of eulogy in the Roman camp. The portrait of Clodius
was a perfect index to his character. The broad, but re»
treating forehead ; the deep-set piercing eye,^ and finely
curved, but firmly compressed lips, around which fre*
quehtly played a smile, which ill accorded with the ster-
mess of th& other features, bespoke daring and firmness,
joined with the less enviable qualities of dissimulation and
revenge. Acillia, beautiful as a nymph of her own. sun-
ny clime, looked the personification of dignity and lovei
Her long raven hair was braided with pearls, and confin-
ed about the temples, while a few clustering curls shade^
her graceful neck and finely rounded cheek. The large
dark eyes, with their thoughtful, almost sad expression,
and the delicately penciled and arching brows, contrasted
admirably with the high, feir forehead, and small, exquir
sitely moulded lips.

THE ROMAN EXILE.

She wore a circular robe of white tissue, richly border-
ed with purple and fastened on the left shoulder with a
golden clasp ; and beneath this, a long flowing garment
wrought with gold, with a deep purple fringe descending
to the feet, and shoes of the same colour embroidered with
pearls, completed her dress. , ,,

On the following day, Clodius proposed that Acillia
should walk in the garderf-^Unattendcd by their slaves,
they passed through a long promenade overshaded by
hanging willows, leading into a beautiful field, which was
cultivated by fruit trees, divided into long rows, each of
which was of a different kind. Through the middle of
the field, was an extensive opening, appropriated to the cul-
tivation of flowers, and aromatic plants. Passing through
this to the opposite part of the garden, they approached an
aged oak, whose wide-spreading branches, and un&ded
leiaves threw around it a pleasant shade. The trunk and
branches were entwined by tendrils of vine, whicii diffus-
ed themselves over the tree and hung in ripening festoons.
Beneath the tree, Acillia and Clodius seated themselves
upon a couch and converised in the following language :

Clodius— So the Q,uintillian brothers, Maximin and
Cardianus have been here.

Acillia — Yes — a long time with my brother, who you
know loves them most dearly.

Clodius — And I suppose you share your brother's sen-
timents.

Acillia — They command the admiration of all who
know them, from their great love to each other. They

■' \

f <

ALSTHIBS, Oft

«re wonderful yotmg men, given up to no ignoble con*
duct, but to the pursuit of every manly virtue. They
were never unkind to each other, never have been separa-
ted for a day. While here, ^ey were always reading the
same books, and always wrote upon tlie same subjects.
They were ahvays happy, alwayfl rendering their friends
so ; and it seemed as if one^JBOul actuated both* bodies.
And their generosity is as unbounded as their fortune.

Clodius^->As their fortune now is. Great streams have
been knoAMi to exhaust themselves by the rapidity of their
course. They—

Acillia — They give what they do not want. They
appropHate their wealth to liberal designs, in re-
lieving the misery of the poor of Rome. — And do not
atit% acts of kindness communicate a pleasure to oui
heijirts, commensumte with the gift itself? i j

Clodius — ^Women themselves are always generous—
always ready to bestow a favour, but never consider in
conferring a gill. Whether it is injustice to themselves or be*
neficial to the receiver. As to myself, I never have dis-
covered any obligatioin upon human nature, that should
prompt me to give away my wealth to one who has never
presented me with an equivalent. But I have been asto-
nished and provoked to see men bestow gold upon thosei
who had not knowledge sufficient to appreciate it, or thank
their benefactors. And as it regards the Cluintillian
brothers, they should be as much despised as they have Been
admired. To the mind of every man of rank, all their for-
mer conduct must appear as forever clouded by their im-
pious liberality.

THE nOMAN CXILC.

Aciilia'— How ! What have they done, Clodius 1

Clodius — They have given wHhm a few weeks, several
tatents of silver to the support of a sect of detestable Jewi^
&natic disciples of their new deity.

Acillia — The duintillian brothers I And do you think
it so great a crime to bestow a &vout upon those poor
creatures, whom our countrymen abhor, and whose coun-
try we have taken.?

Clodius — ^We cannot offend the gods more, than by giv'
ing our riches which they have bcMtowed upon us, t«
those who despise ihem and break their sacred images.

Acillia — And what do those Jew« teach?

Clodius — They beli&ve in but one Deity, whose
power, they affirm, is universal. They teach that he
has sent his son to dwell upon the earth ; that he be<9me
.a human being, and taught his disciples the knowledge
and mysteries of heaven. They euppose him to have
purchaflcd immortal and endless happiness by dying, and
,say that all who worship him as a god, and ovily- those,
shall possess the same life after tlney have disappeared
from this world. Him thc^ .call Christ, and lus dii^
pies Christians. They are mean and i^brant, and ha-
ters of philosophy. They despise oui^* laws, our customs,
and our religion; the glory of our temples, monumenti,
and victories.—- Are not such contemptible, and punish*
able with extreme torture?

Acillia — I have often heard of them, and have seen
many. I have always considered them an unoffending
people.

ALETHBS, OR

ft 'I'

Clodius — But they are not. They are impious aifd
must be punished and destroyed, or their religion will
supplant ours, and ruin the Emp.ire. A Roman, who
has rejected his own religion so long established and
buih upon the found^ition of true philosophy, for oi\e so
blind, so mean, so ignoble, — deserves the most tor*
taring punishment ; and Justinus has justly merited his.
He was beheaded upon—

Acillia — Who I—you did not say Justinus, the philo-
sopher?

Clodius — Yes, the philosopher.

Acillia — Clodius, did you know that he has been my
teachJir ! And it it indeed true that he was put to
4eath ? How did he perish ; — for what ? When ? Clodius.

Clodius — He was beheaded at Rome about three weeks
4igo. An emnity had existed between him and Creseus,
who accused him of unlawful conduct before the Senate ;
and accordingly, he ^vas beheaded with^ix of his compa-
nions. And he is not a true Roman who will show those
in&tuated brawlers any greater favor.

Acillia — Clodius, are you not too severe against
them? — We have a slave here, who is a christian; and if
•his religion has rendered his conduct so distinguished, I
wish that all our slaves were christians. He is the most
patient, kind, and obedient slave I ever saw. And he is
learned. He speaks Greek iluently, and has executed
some beautiful paintings for my brother. Indeed, my fa*
ther thinks him capable of overseeing all the affairs of
the villa ; and my brother treats hiin rather us a compa-
jaion than a slave.

THBT ROMAN EXILE.

Clodius— You astonish me, Acillia — he reads Greek)
paints? a slave I — from what country, and how long hat
he been with you?

Acillia — He is a Dacian, and was taken in the" war
hut spring. My father purchased him and brought him
here, wherv he has since remained.

Clodius — He can not be a Dacian. They know no*
thing of letters: — What is his name.

Acillia — We call him Villicus, and know him by
no other. We have often interrogated him about his
friends and birth, but be was always unwilling to answer
our enquiries.

Clodius — I am greatly inclined to think him a hypo-
crite.-i-What does your father thinV of him.

Acillia — ^He believes him the best slave ever sold at
Rome ; and has promised him his liberty in the springy
trithoutany other reward than his superior conduct.

Cludius — I never heard of a learned slave. '

Acillia — OyesI iEsop of Phrygia, who instructed
Greece by his fables, was a slave; and many wise men in
all countries have become so by ill-fortune.

Clodius — ^We shall see this great man \

As he spoke these werdi^ triuniphantly, aa though ho
could confound every opinion that difiered from his, by
his own superior knowledge, — Acillia begged him to re<-
turn ; and accordingly they retired from the garden..

ALGTHirS, OK

CHAPTER IIL

• v.r

After they returned to the villa, Cl^'3i.i« ])T'> >08ed that
Acillia fhould take an excursion nu ^he v ater; and
within a short time, accompar<od Ly two rc^bust slave*
and a female attendant, th y ev • • -ked upon the beautiful
Mediterranean. The sea was miRed by a slight breeze,
tossing its blue waves up to catch th6 golden light of the
morning, and appeared like a vast plain of shining peb-
bles, changing and /esuming their place as if by magic
The little party in their small pleasure galley, proceeded
mp the shore toavardis Antium, and had advanced but a
short distance, when an accident transpired that precipi-
tated them all into the sea. By this unfortunate event,
not only the suiierera, but the parents of Acillia and the
•laves, who were willing to put their own lives in im-
minent peril to preserve Aciliia'a, — were thrown into the
greatest consternation, at they saw no possible means by
which they could be redieeiaed from their impending fate.
On that morning the several boats whdchi had been moor-
ed at the shore, were sent away at an. early hour. No-
thing was nov presented to the au&rers and the sympa-
thizing specittMT^j b\'} death! — ^ven "vvucn it might have
been least f ''^^ jJut !ihub it happens, and thus is ter-
minated the history of many, who have endured every
mi9fortune, who have encountered death in every dread-
|bl shape; and finally, when least apprehended, his snarea
are spread, and they have become captive, who had be-
g|un to hope for a happier life.

THE ROMAN BXILE.

Tho excitement of the spectator! for the eufferer^
now wrought up to the highest degree. The agobiy ot
the parents of Acillia was extren^. Oh I could they bti
rescue their beloved daughter firom death 1— -a deaih ot
which they themselves were the observers! So sudt; 'n f
So unexpected! When they had contemplated noth< g
but prosperity, behold the hand of adversity v xs upi ^
them i— A hundred faces looked to heaven, ana a hun-
dred voices supplicated for mercy. There is no heip^
No human being can convey he power which he pos
sesses, beyond the wave sparkling and dying aw»y at
his feet!— It is impossible wholl v to describe the feelings
of parents situated as those before us. To see a beloved
child, whom its mother has nourished, watched over, and
beheld with anxiety and yet with happiness, as its exis-
tence expanded into energy and manifested those noble,
aflfectionate and holy qualities which adorn human nature,
when she contemplated only that which was to contribute
to her felicity,— perish before her eyes, and almost within
grasp of her arm, is the most overwhelming and affect-
ing calamity which the human heart can sustain. No!
I cannot do justice to a parent's feelings !-^I believe in the
holy religion that God has givm us to refine and elevate
our nature; but that affection which a mother's soul nou-
rishes, appears to me ahnost divuie, and abnost worthy
our adoration! It is created by the spirit of Heaven, and
will never consume by the decline of Ufe. In prosperity
and misfortune it is alike ardent and unchanged. Weshh
cannot bribe it — ^power cannot bind it— nor the rage of
the elements of nature destroy it! It is as noble as the

ALETHES, OR

■m-

vnivene of God, and can only cease to bum, when the
heart that nourishes it shall have refused to beat I Rea-
der, if you have a mother yet spared to you, t > smile up-
on yiou — ^to welcome you home— to look upon you with
partiality— 40 forgive your faults — who is ever deeply ih-
terested in every circumstance which relates to your hap-
piness—never forget her — ^never forget to cherish her
with all your heart's best feelings — think of her when ab-
sent^-think of her when dangers and destructions sur-
round and threaten you, and who, to redeem you from
death, if she were able, in the madness of her heart's devo-
tion, \^buld blot out the sun, dethrone the moon from her
starry court, and wage war against all the energies of
nature !

The situation of Acillia's mother was most wretched
and heart-rending. In one breath she •called upon the
gods to preserve her ; and in the next, cc»nmanded her to
save herself ;•— offered gold and treasures to those around
her, and execrated them when she saw the vain efforts
they put forth to redeem her daughter.

But at a period so momentous, and when the hope of
any assistance was abandoned, Villicus passed by the pa-
rents who were shrieking and fainting upon the shore,
with the speed of lightning, and plunged into the sea.—
Behold, he divides the waves with the swiftness and ease
of the swan ! — He urges forward ! — A moment more,
and he has gained the drowning Acillia ! — No I she has
disappeared ! The frail hope to which she clung has
escaped her grasp, and she sinks beneath the waves! — She
appears! — ^She is safe! — Villicus has placed beneath her

THE ROMAN EXILE.

grasp a fragment of wood, which supports her above the
water !— He turns a^vay, and in a moment more, he has
preserved the life of Clodius, who had supported himself
by clinging to an oar. — They are rescued ! and ecstatic
joy has filled the hearts, which but a moment before de-
spair had paralyzed.

At the time of the accident of oversetting the boat,
Villicus was returning from the field with a large bottle
in his hand, constructed of the skin of some animal, and
manufactured into leather, after the manner of those in the
east; capacious enough to contain eight or ten gallons,
and capable of being inflated as a balloon. The one un-
der consideration was made in a manner convenient to be
borne upon the shoulders, extending over the back from
the right to .the left side, and supported by a cord attached
to each end. At this critical juncture he had the presence
of mind to inflate the bottle, which occurred to him as a
support in buoying up the body, as he had seen practiced*
by the Phoenicians ; and which was done with such rapi-
dity and suspended over his shoulder, as scarcely to be
perceptible to the beholders. As he ran towards the shore
h» perceived tlie trunk of a small poplar, which he seized,
threw into the water, and impelled before him until he
reached Acillia, as has been related. The inflated bottle
he conveyed to Clodius, who found it a matter of no diffi-
culty without further assistance, to escape' from his perilous
situation. The attention of Villicus was now directed to
the other sufferers. It was found that Acillia's maid hav-
ing been precipitated so &r from the boat as to be unable
to grasp anything by which to support herself, had pejish-

ALEtHES, OR

rd— tfic other attendants clung to it, and were finally
rescued by means of a plank capable of supporting
them.

The joy of the parents at this almost miraculous preser-
vation of their child, and tho gmtitudo of the rescued, may
easily be imagined. But Clodius, on ascertaining that he
owed his life to the exertions of the slave, who had been a
subject of conversation on tho morning before, between
himself and Acillia, checked the current of generous feel-
ing which was springing up in his heart, and ceased to
consider tho noble and masterly effort that Villicus had
made to preserve his life, otherwise than a common act of
kindness, which should only call forth an acknowledge-
ment from him on whom it >vas bestowed. But seeing
tho gratitude manifested by Servius Valerius,* whom he
particularly affected to please, he presented to the slave a
piece of siljyi^r, as a cancel for the debt which he supposed
the parents of Acillia owal him, accompanied with these
words ; '* Receive this, Villicus, as a reward for your ser*
vices to us." — But Villicus, in whoso soul the pure springs
of virtuous and noble actions were confined, and wanted
only that freedom of body and mind which is indispensable
to call them from their psofound and silent recesses, to dif-
fuse their powerful influence through the spheres of human
society, — replied in language characteristic of a gene-
rous and great mind, that " he \vas a man, and felt an in-
terest in whatever related to tho happiness of mankind ;
mid that, as ho had achieved no deed worthy of such a rc-
t\^Yd, he could by no means receive it."
■ fiy this reply, uttered with such dignity of sentiment,

THE ROMAN EXILS.

anl in a distinct anl molodious voice, Villicus was rrgardr
e.l with astonishment and admiration by all who heard him,
except Clodiiis, who beheld him with inefTuble chagrin
and contempt ; and who, when he saw with what partiali-
ty the slave was considered, could scarcely restrain the
volley of imprecations he was about to pour upon him.

But Acillia's gratitude, as she realized the fate from
which she had recently been delivered, and the noble
disinterestedness of the slave towards her,- overleaped
the bounds which had bien ascribed it, and poured out
its ardour in a thousand thanks. She exclaimed, " thou
art, O Villicus! the most worthy slave ever condemned
to servitude !" And turning to her father, about whoso
neck she threw her arras, said, " restore, O my father !
this magnanimous young man to liberty and the better en-
joyments of life ; and let hiln and us forget that he has
served in thy house, in tUfe capacity of a servant and
slave!"

Servius Valerius immediately arose from his seat and
walking towards Villicus, after the manner of the law of
Rome placed his hand upon his head, and requesting that
five persons might be witness, pronounced him in the
nama of Rome, free I

On this day Villicus feasted at the same table with Ser-
vius Valerius and his family, clothed, as tokens of his free-
dom and his master's esteem, in a long white robe, and on
a finger of the left hand wearing a superb ring set with
diamonds, upon which was engraved the giver's image.

Dinner being over, Servius turned to Villicus and said,
" You are now at liberty to desire and choose for yourself.

ALETHES, OR

I ; ; t

You can remain in Italy or return to your own country.
If you should desire the last, that you may be the better
able, accept from me as a paternal gift, these hund-
red aurii.* But if you should remain, I hereby promise
to procure for you the privilege of a Roman citizen ; and
if you will consent to tarry in my &mily until the spring
shall return, you shall receive my thanks and a liberal re-
ward."

Villicus replied, " Since a reverse of fortune has placed
me in servitude, I hope that 1 4to.ve executed your com-
mands, and performed my duty as a slave. For the ame-
lioration^pf my poverty, iny aflection for you is as strong
as my love of life,— «nd for the many kindnessess of your
femily towards me, my heart will glow with gratitude
while there is life to continue the flame. I accept your
present. Your great benevolence places me at your
command ; and I consider that I am bound to perform
your wishes."

He continued — " And it is not unkno^vn to you, Ser-
vius Valerius, that our good Emperor, Marcus Aurelius
Antoninus, hfs, within the period of eight months, publish-
ed an edict in feivour of the Christians — a sect of people
whose creed is to be temperate, charitable, inoffensive; to
subdue their passions, to be lowly in heart, to do no evil,
and to worship one God, who alone they believe, can as-
sist, punish, or reward mortals. For their religion they
have been floomed, wherever the dominion of Rome had
extended, to all kinds of punishments, — ^tortures the most

♦ Equal to BOL Us.

THE

'ROM,

EXiLB.

asive; to

dreadful the mind could inver-i Tiuy have been brave,
but unrevengeful ; and chooce to ikxh a horrid death, rather
than forfeit the favour of God, who holds the gift of immor-
tal life, and will not bestow it upon those who disobey
him, and refuse to suffer for the gioiy of his religion.
I am a Christian, Servius Valerius, r.nd do not fear to
meet death in his most terrific Ibrm, I, court not his fa-
vour, but will never shim him when he approaches.

" As the Romans believe that .Tupiter has dwelt upon the
earth, so believe the Christians, that, by his own power,
God, when the wickedness of mankind had became
great, rendered himself mortal and dwek with men,
whom he taught the knowledge of immortality and in-
corruptible happiness beyond the grave. He suffered to
die as a man — that his disciples might believe they should
live again, he resumed his life, triumphed over death;
showed himself to innumerable wimesses, and ascended
into the heavens to his throne, surrounded by legions of
angels, who ever greet him Avith rapturous songs and ne-
ver ceasing praises. Yet, in all his glory, he hears our
requests, and sends us aid in every time of need.

" Bear with me a little longer, O Servius Valerius, and
permit me to say that I am a Roman, the son of—-' a Ro-
man !' involuntarily exclaimed all who heard him.
" Yes," continued Villicus, " I am a Roman, the son of a
liObleman of Lydia, called Sorex, Praetor of Smyrna,
himself a native of Rome. My father died when I was
twelve years of age, conmiitting me, and his fortune to
the care of my uncle, a physician, who also resided at
Smyrna. My name is Alethes." He would have pro-

ALETHES, OR

coedcd, but his feelings were too strong to be control-
led. The fountain within his heart, long congealed by
the deadning influence of misfortune, was now broken
up. The sun ol prosperity was shining uppn it — the ^
streams which had once fed it were swollen, and again
conveyed themselves to their great repository, and caus-
ed it to overflow. He faltered — ^hesitated — withdrew
to a couch— sunk upon it and swooned. — The auditors
df this narration were transfixed with astonishment — in-
volved in a mystery from which they could not extricate
themselveai. Alethes, the name by which we shall here-
after designate, Villicus, overpowed by the associations
of home, of his former rank, and of the many miseries
he had endured, was unable to proceed in his recital.
The particulars of his exile will form the substance of
the next chapter.

CHAPTER IV.

The reader will recollect that while Acillia was ill
atBmyrna, whither she had gone for the recovery of her
health, she became acquainted with Alethes, who was
then residing with his uncle Superius. About the time
of her departure, there arose by order of the Governor
of the Province of Lydia, an order for the persecution o^
pvery Roman who apostatized from his religion and es- •
poused Christianity. The command was put into effect,

'^.im^^-'^

THE ROMAN EXILE.

and thousands of persons of all ranks of society in Smyrna
and the neighbouring towns were victims to its fury.
Among these there was of the city a yoimg man named
Germanicus of rank and fortime, who was the friend
and companion of Alethes, and from whom he first receiv-
ed a distinct idea . of the doctrine of Christianity. But
although Alethes saw his friend espouse the principles of
his religion, and practice the duties they enjoined, with
sincerity and with fervency, he did not, for a long time,
view theip as suflUcient to stand the test of philosophy.
Germanicus was an attendant upon the ministry of Poly-
carp, Bishop of Smyrna, who had been a scholar of St.
John the Evangelist. From him he imbibed the iq[)irit
of Christianity in its purity ; and as Polycarp had in his
possession a transcript of the life of the Great Founder of
his religion Avritten by his teacher, he was at the pains of
copying it twice over with his own hand, that he might
more effectually assimilate his mind to its holy character.
One of these transcriptions he bestowed upon his friend
Alethes, who did not possess it long before he acknow-
ledged its truths.

The time now approached when the two friends wete to
be separated. The professing of Christianity by Germa->
nicus was too notorious an example to pass unobserved and
uiirevenged by his former friends whose passions were
desperate, and who had become determined upon his de-
struction. He was immediately apprehended, and the Go-
vernor ordered that he should be given to the wild beasts,
in the presence of the citizens. The next day was the
time appointed, and the circus was selected as the place of

ALETHES, OR

execution. This was a circular building, and not elipti-
cal like the amphitheatre of Rome. The. diameter of its
, outer walls way four hundred feet, and that of the arena,
two hundred and fifty. It was capacious enough to contain
fifteen thousand persons. The moment arrived for the
dreadful spectacle, and Germanicus unbound w&b present-
ed to the ferocious spectators, who were impatimt for his
death. The circus was thronged with citizens of all ranks
% and conditions ; and Alethes attended among others, that
he might wimess for himself the conduct of his friend at
the close of his mortal existence. He was clad with a
short tunic fastened about his loins, leaving his legs, chest
and arms naked. He was required to use a sword that he
might defend himself and prolong the sport for the people.
The instrument he held, however, rather resembled a pon-
derous knife than a sword.

*■ Its blade was about two feet in length, and three inches
in width, with two edges. The individual who was des-
tined to wield it as a defence against his life, was tall but
slightly made, with long and muscular arms and thin legs
the action of whose muscles was perceptible in every mo-
tiofl hemade. He walked into the c«itre of the arena
with the greatest self-possession and majesty, and apparent-
ly without any idea of death upon his mind. His gait
and the gestures of his body showed that he imited to his
strength an extraordinary degree of activity. He took his
station in the centre. He raised himself to his ftiU height,
and showed a countenance to the spectators of no ordinary
beauty. His nose was straight and purely Grecian. His
forehead was high and well developed, and his eye,— -

THE ROMAN EXILE.

large, full and dark, keen, and sure-sighted, beamed inten-
sely upon those around him, as if reading their desires for
his death, or searching for some familiar or friendly face.
He at length raised his arm above his head, as the signal
to admit his enemy. His coimtenance at this moment
was sublime in the extreme. The bars of » cage
which contained a large African lion were removed.
The scent of blood was in his nostrils. He sprung for*
ward and with one dreadful bound stood before Qermani-
cus. But his foe fixed him to the ground. The magic of
his brilliant eye was as powerful as the weapon he held in
his lumd. Even a single hair upon the lion appeared not
to move. The enemies stood rivetted to the arena, gazing
intensely in each other's countenance. All was as still
and breathless as the region of death. The spectators
were absorbed in the scene before them. — But hark ! A
tremendous crash ! The spectators shout and scream with
terror ! The uppermost tier of seats a hundred feet high
has started! It is safe — all again is silent but the actors
upon the arena. — The gaze of Germanicus was removed
and directed to the place high above his head whence the
crash proceeded. — This was precisely what the lion de-
sired. The charm was broken, and the fierce animal
sprung for his antagonist. Qermanicus is ready — ^he
stepped suddenly aside, and the lion alighted upon the spot
he occupied, but with such a terrible rush and blow of his
paw, that he scattered the sand and gravel across the arena,
and stumbled to the ground. In this position his adver-
sary aimed a blow at his head, which missed, and entered
his neck. The wounded animal spnmg upon his feet

" \

ALETIlESj OR

and excite^ to a desperp.te rage by pain, rushed with im-
petuosity upon his foe, who stood with upraised weapon
ready for his advance. The moment he came within
reach Germanicus brought down his knife with such ir*
resistible force upon hif head that it clove it asimdex
from ear to ear. He withdrew his weapon fiom the ani-
mal's skull, turned to the keepers and signified that ho
was prepared for another. A royal tiger was now let
loose. He leaped into the arena, but did not appear dis-
posed to attack his waiting adversary. He surveyed the
spectators, then Germanicus, growled fiercely, and re-
treated foj his den, which however, had previously been se-
cured against his entrance. He stood now as if bewil-
dered — a piece of bloody meat was thrown him, and he
swallowet' it in an instant. This was sufficient bait.
He sprung oi.* from his lurking place with a terrible
yell— crouched to the ground — curved his length neces-
sary for a spring — lashed the ground with his dilated
tail — shot fire from his eyes, growled, and darted forward
liii.«? lightning upon his prey. Bui his foe was too active,
even for so ferocious an onset. He stepped aside as be-
fore, and as tKe animal shot by, he plunged his pointed
weapon into the left side, just behind his heart. The ani-
mal turned and attacked him fiercer than before. Ger-
manicus had not time to elevate his knife sufficiently high
to give it the necessary impetus ; but extending it before
him with a firm grasp, he received the wounded tiger up-
on its point directly under the throat, entering full length
into the body, and leaving the handle alone conspicuous.
At this critical moment the blood-thirsty Governor madQ

THE ROMAN EXILE.

signal for the other tiger which was confined in the
cage with the one now in the arena. The wounded
animal, however, sprung from the ground, and although
the blood was gushing in a torrent from his body, made
another tremendous advance. Germanicus had been
thrown to the earth by the encounter, and was not upon
his feet when the furious brute rushed upon him. He
partially eluded him. His left arm was extended with*
in the tiger's reach, and he tore it from his shoulder
with a single blow. This amis his last effort, and he
dropped dead mthout a groan. Germanicus was now
riseh, and seemed not to have noticed the loss of his
arm. By this time the other tiger was within a few
paces from him, and advanced without making the cere-
mony which his comrade performed; and the moment he
was near enough, his unconquerable adversary swung his
ponderous weapon with astonishing violence against his
head, cleaving it almost from the nose to his neck, and
the animal fell dead at his feet. The bravery of the
vanquisher extorted involuntary shouts of praise, even
from his most deadly enemies ; but it was of short dura-
tion. " Let loose the Hyanat /" commanded the Governor,
in a stern and distinct voice — accompanied with " let
TUEM loo9e! let THEM LOO'^E !" from a thousand
(spectators. Accordingly the bars of their cage were
raised, and the ferocious beasts ran growling to the i>eld of
carnage. — Resistance was impossible. The loss of Uood
and th^readful pain were overwhelming, and in attempting
to defend himself, he was overpowered and torn to pieces
amid the savage triumphs of a people, even mote cruel

ALETHES, OR

than the furocious beasts. — This public martyrdom ol
Oermanicus was far from producing the effect upon the
minds of the citizens which they anticipated. His ex-
traordinary courage — his dignified aspect — the superhu-
man strength and adroitness he seemed to possess, con-
firmed many in the acknowledgement of his religion.
Among these was Alethcs. The death of his friend re-
moved every objection to its character, and he embraced
it without hesitation. The exasperated nobles now saw
that Christianity, like a stream, was spreading its floods
around them, of which they could only gain the ascen-
dancy by cutting off* the source which fed it. To accom-
plish this, Polycarp was apprehended ; and the venerable
Bishop perished at the stake when nearly a hundred
years of age. These cruelties stimulated the christians
to greater energies in the dissemination of their religious
opinions ; and the Oovcrnor was only deterred from his
purpose of bloody persecution by command of Aurelius.

When the uncle of Alethes heard that his nephew had
embraced a religion, the most obnoxious and despicable in
his coni^deration, his anger was unbounded. He imme-
diately dispatched a messenger commanding him to ap-
pear in his presence without delay. When Alethes en-
tered, so violent was the wrath of Superius that, without
interrogating him of the unwelcome report, he reproach*
ed him in the most bitter and scornful terms, and drove
him. from his house with blows, accompanied with ♦
a threat in a voice of thunder, that he would tear him
asunder limb by limb unless he abjured Christianity.
The parents of Alethes were dead, and he had none whom

, i

THE ROMAN BXILE.

now aaw

he could claim as a relative unless Superius. There was
now no alternative but to associate with those whose faith
was the same as his own. He was assured that as long
as he believed jn Christ, he should be an object of con*
tompt to his uncle; and for a moment he could not pre>
sume that he ever should deny Him, who was now his
only happiness. He felt that he existed in a new world,
of which he before had no conception; and although tri-
bulation and death surround him, he could in the pre*
sence of his Saviour, who by his crucifixion, tasted death
for every man, and was able to give immeasurable grace to
his persecuted saints — ^triumph over all. His constant em*
plojrment was now the perusal of the manuscript his friend
Germanicus bestowed upon him, as a parting gift which
was ever by the Romans esteemed and kept as sacred.
This was the manuscript which Acillia was reading as
she sat at her father's villa, looking out upon the beautiful
Meditenanean sea.>^In such an occupation as this, in re-
ceiving christian instruction from those who were capa-
ble to teach, in visiting the sick, comforting the discon-
solate, and in the delightful duty of prayer, did Alethes,
undisturbed, pass a week without the precincts of his un-
cle's audiority.

At the expiration of this period, the wrath of Superius
was somewhat abated, but hod lost nothing of its deter-
mination to extirpate every christian opinion, if possible
from the mind of Alethes. The nephew was now ap-
prehended by public officers, and brought before the Go*
vemor, who was decorated in the most gorgeous manner
to give a greater effect to his language. There was

ALETHES, OR

upon his countenance a smile of inflexible revenge, as he
spoke ; and his whole aspect was that of vain pomp and
arrogance. The tall figure of Alethes was majestic and
dignified, and would have commanded respect, though he
had inherited neither rank or riche«.
' The Governor now proceeded to remind him of his
renowned ancestors-Mhe glory of their achievements—
their extensive wisdom — their devotion to their country-—
their adoration of all its deities, and the laws wHich re*
quired every Roman to worship them. He entreated
him to have compassion upon his youth— not to dis«
honour his^ancestry, to perform, as did his illustrious fa-
ther, such deeds as his country could approve and admire.
Rank and wealth he inherited by birth--^-a^orions name
might be his by action :

^' I heard that you have renotinced the religion of your
father — I hope it is not so. I cannot be persuaded that
the son of the noble Sorex would prefer the religion of
one Ood to that of many, and a hut to a grargeous tem-
ple !— Speak for yourself, O Alethes I and tell us that we
may know !"

To this declamation Alethes replied, *< It is true that I
am a christian — I have sacrificed to the deities of Rome
— i now worship the Deity of heaven, an omnipresent
and omnipotent Being, who sits enthroned where our lof-
tiest thoughts cannot reach Hun. He alone created all
things which we behold— 4he land and the sea— 4he sun
aid the moon — ^the stars which spangle the vault of
night, and all mankind Df every language and every na-
tion. In him alone we live, and by his power alone we

THE ROMAN EXILE.

die. — Not one of the creatures which he has made can
perish without his knowledge.—-He never sleeps. — His
eye is upon all things which he has created.

"He claims not the worship of earthly sacrifices, — not
the offering oLppri umed incense-— dwells not in temples
where the l4^P ^'^^ ^^® ^^ ^^ herds are spread. He
knows all tS^noughts of the heart, and accepts the
prayer of the just, alike from the hill and the vale, from
the dungeon and the palace ; and the rich and the poor
are the same to him. He has sent his son into the world,
who became mortal, and taught us the knowledge of his
religion. On Jliim he conferred all the power which he
possessed — to kill or to make alive— to walk upon the-
sea, or to feed a thousand from a few loaves of bread. He
died that all might live, and resumed his life after he laid
in the grave. He departed into the heavens to his own
glorious home, to be our Saviour to the end of time. — ^To
the power of snch^a Deity I commend my life. I honour
hpn above every form in the universe, and hope to die
with his praise in my mouth.** - *>

He would have fionthiued his address, but his noble au-
ditory compelled him to desist. Without &rther cere-
mony he was thro\vn into prison and confined with crimi-
nals of the most abandoned character. In this situation
he did not despair. He was prepared /o die ; and while
he lived, ui what condition soever, he desired to elevate
his fellow creatures firom misery, and instruct them in the
knowledge of the soul which God had revealed. The
fvretches around him were his immediate objects of atten-
tioD. By his mildness, the superiority which education

Tr-

ALETHES, OR

\ ^^'

gave him, — ^by the novelty of his opinions, the animation
and eloquence with which he spoke, he soon gained their
attention and confidence.

He had always concealed about hiu-person the manu-
script which his friend Germanicus bcMoHgd upon him,
in such a manner that it could not easi^Hpiscovered.—
r^i his confinement, t$iis was -q: source ^{ v^ery great hap-
piness to him. He was particularly consoled with that
affecting address of our Saviour, in John 15th and 16th
chapters — just before his betrayal to the Jews; — and
especially with those beautiful words which have so oflen
comforted ^he persecuted in all countries and in every
period since the death of Christ : " In the world ye shall
have tribulation j but be of good cheer, I have overcome
the world."

In a short.- time h'^. h^id. the. joy p.f seeing those poor
wretches about him, who mocked and'rejoiced when they
saw him enter as a companion, anxious to hear him speak
of Christ, repentant for their sins, and praying to the God
only capable of hearing them. — Such is the holy charac-
ter of Christianity, that whoever asisHmiiates himself to
its principles is converted into the nature of an angel. — If
he be reviledj*he reviles not again. If he be smitten upon
one cheek, he returns the other to his adversary. If his.
^nemy cursed him, he returns him love for hatred, and
prays for his prosperity.

In this situation, however, Alethes was not destined
long to remain. He soon received his sentence. He
was condemned to be banished for life, beyond the con-
fines of the Roman Empire, among the barbarians of the

THE ROMAN EXILE.

north ; and within a few days after, he was transported
through the Hellespont to the Black Sea, where he was
deserted to perish among savages, or prolong a Wretched
life more intolierable than death itself The Almighty
Ruler of the universe, who regards the fall of a sparrow
to the ground, as well as the convulsion of an earthquake
or the destruction of a world, was not unmindful of the
lonely exile upon a barren strand and among an untutor-
ed race, whose glory was their freedom, whose ambition
was to dwell in the wilds of their own uncultivated coun-'
try, and who abhorred the Romans and left no opportunity
unembraced to gratify their revenge.

Within the heart of Alethes there were every- benevo-
lent and exalted virtue that could adorn human nature.
His mind with one overmastering effort, was capable of
adapting itself to any reverse of fortune. — His figure was
tall, and exceedingly well proportioned ; and his constitu-
tion able to endure immense fatigues and hardships.

He was not easily convinced ; but when the light of
reason shone upon his mind, Ke was ever ready to
acknowledge it. He had a clear conception of the sublime
nature of man, and of the affinit^that existed between
him and his Creator. — And now, in the lonely deserts of

Dacia, to cultivate a love for his fellow creatures ^to

ameliorate their wretchedness — ^to show them the path-
way to immortal and glorious happiness, was his ambi-
tion and his employment.

In this situation, isolated from the society of his friend$
^-from the enjoyme^its of wealth — from the country of
his birthj he passed four years as a servant of the Most

%-l

ALETHES, OR

High, healing the diseases of the body and administering
to those of the mind. The Romans about this time made
war with the Dacians, a vast, and almost unconquerable
^ tribe, defeated and took a great number prisoners, who
were sold at Rome as slaves. Among these was Alethes.
He was purchased by Servius Valerius, and removed
to his villa upon the Mediterranean. Here he remained
during the period described in the second chapter.-— He
was, when condemned to banishment, according to the
custom of the Romans, deprived of his liberty and pro-
nounced no more a citizen, where, and under whatever
circumstance* he might exist. He supposed this a law of
Rome ; and when the era of his slavery commenced,
he buried all associations of home, of wealth, and of
friends, deep in the recesses of his heart. What hope
could be left him, an exile and a christian; once a noble-
man, now a slavft?— What disparity, whatreverse of for<
tune! J

He determined to conceal from his master all know-
ledge of his illustrious birth ; but when he made the dis<

CO very, that his^wij

daughter were those two dis-

tinguished ladies froin'Rome withiyhom he had been in-
timately acquainted, it was with a master efibrt that he
refrained from making his misfortunes known.— And du-
ring the whole of his slavery he vras never, by. the &mily
of Valerius, recognised as Alethes, the nephew of Supe-
rius of Smyrna. He was now almost transformed into
another being. The gaiety of youth was gone — ^his
countenance was wan and grave, and his whole appear-
ance bespoke him a man of sonow and misfortune.

THE ROMAN EXILE.

But from the moment he ascertained that the father of
Acillia was indeed no less than the identical Servius Va-
lerius, his master; he indulged the conviction that he
should again he free, and regain his rank and possessions.
He now gave himself up to the performance of every
duty assigned him, and private communion with jSea*
vcsi; and shortly, according to his presentiment, he was
liberated, as has already been related.

CHAPTER V.

Woman has beer^ die same in all countries and in all
ages of the world, possessed of the sftme animated spirits^-^
the same buo^uit and intense hopes ; and her burning
and absorbing desirrs to be happy, have been indige-
nous and indestructibl with her existence.

It is not distinguish' d wealth, or the ascension to a
throne that augments her amount of happiness. The
supreme principle, the key that unlocks a heaven to her
soul, is Sympathy — a corresponding sentim^t — a one-
ness of thougtit, feeling, desire. — Although situated in
the most exalted spheres of human duty, even antecedent
to the time that Deborah governed Israel, a period of
more than three thousand years ago, to the present re-
fined age, — in Judea or Bgypt, at Pahnyra or Babylon ;
in Italy, Russia, Sweeden or Britain, she has governed
the State with skill, equal, and often 8u)perior to that of

ALETHES, OR

man; has ied forth conquering armies — endured excessive
fatigues and privations— executed projects of revenge
which mortal power could not oppose — has forgiven like
an angel, and sympathized with all the springs of the hu-
man heart; and could resign the pomp and glory of
state for the quiet enjoyments of domestic life.
' Man may speak of his sorrows — his spirit may relax
its energy and agonize at the misfortunes which' beset the
pathway of his existence ; but his sorrows and mis-
fortunes are twofold more tolerable than those of woman.
Confine him to the room of sickness, and let him watch
alone by th? couch of the afflicted, in the dim light of the
lamp through the sleepless hours of night, to administer
to every necessity, to discharge a thousand indispensible
duties — let him do this for the brother of his heart, the
parent of his being, or the wife of his bosom, and even
his most refined nature will weary, and his spirit grow
impatient of its task, and admit the approach of an irre-
sistible feeling of selfishness, which, though he endeavour
to reject, must remain to distinguish his nature in this one
instance at least But woman, placed in the same situa-
tion, knows no weariness, acknowledges no recollection
of herself. In the solemn stillness of the midnight hour,
she sits beside the couch of sickness like a creature sent
from the abode of angels — her eye unslumbering — her
mind energetic, and"dwelling even joyously upon the du-
ties before her — her frame unwearied, and gathering new
strength from the high consciousness of the moral obli-
gation which confines her to the room of sickness.
And this is not all — ^her youth is one of burning

THE ROMAN EXILE.

hopcs'-she has always been accustomed to find every
wish anticipated and every reasonable want gratified by
affectionate parents. She lives in the softest sunshine,
amid blooming and balmy flowers ; and to perfect her
bliss, Love comes with his elysian dreams, and she erects
a shrine for his ardent worship. All her tastes, all her
pleasures, all her desires unite to consecrate it to his di«
vinity. The flame burns upon it like a star of heaven,
pure, — ^radiantly and inextinguishably. She bows the
knee— the magic of the flame is upon her heart ; and
she becomes in existence a creature of another sphere—
of glorious light— of beatific fancies. , , -

But to contemplate the figure under its trttci character,
she loves devotedly and with the puiest heart. Oh how
guileless, how generous, how interested is womans first
and passionate love ! She does not consider what th% ob-
ject of her affection may be, but what he shall be. In
his existence she Jives, and in his words she confides and
is happy. Her spirit wanders over the flowery and re-
ceeding past, and gathers what is beautiful in poetry and
exquisite in romance, to portray the character of her fu-
ture husband, who, in her esteem, does not possess a fauh.
And if she admit even a single one, her ardent love
ameliorates its asperity, and even annihilates it from his
nature. Her imaginative fancy penetrates the future—-
lifis the veil that shrouds the dim vista of coming years,
and sees along its flowery margin her delightful hom&-—
some beautiful cottage embosomed in verdant trees. Be-
side it glides an ever-murmuring stream ; and there are
the vines and the flowers that she shall nurse with her

ALETHES, OR

own delicate hand— and there will be all that she may
desire to perfect her happiness.

And she becomeu a wife. She leaves the home of her
childhood with a conviction that she exchanges it for a
paradise. I would she always realized the hope that
animates her spirit But alas, she often finds that she
has been pursuing a shadow, and that the substance
which gave it was gross and worthless. He, who a few
days ago was all attention and affection, is now neglect-
ful and absorbed in dreams of worldly and momentary
gain. His affections may not have become estranged—
he may not hkve been conscious of the oversowing joy
dr the beautiful being whom he wedded, as she stood be-
fore the altar of Qo\ — He did not comprehend the nature
of woman. He presumed that the sine qua non of all her
earthly happiness was splendour — perhaps a modification
of her present situation.

She is bom with the tenderest heart that is proned to
protect our youth, and that is always alive to the dis-
tresses of our nature; and perhaps from our misinter-
pr^tion of her feelings, or the indifTereoce of our sex to
sympathize with them, arise her efifdrts to conceal them,
and the misery which a woman's heart best understands ;
and which so often absorbs the rose-tints of her cheek
and the gladness of her spirit. Day after day the same
heart-sickness continues. When she expects to meet her
husband's smile, or pleasant word, or be cheered by an
hour's interchange of thought,'«and instead of this, to feel
that there is nothing left her but his wealth, or the few
hours of his society which he cannot devote to business —

THE ROMAN BXILE.

to realize that he loves her not as the best gift that eaith
can bestow, — is very wretchedness.

On reviewing the past attentions which such a hus-
band bestowed upon her whom he pretended to prefer to
all others, it seems obvious that his whole conduct was
at) affectation to please. His idea of virtue was borrow-
ed, and he assumed hor semblance, as her charms always
win the heart of woman. It is true, he believed thera
^vas a pleasure even in the pursuit of such an object ; but
when the hour was over in which it became his forever,
he extended his anticipations no farther, because they
concentred to that one point, — possession.

We must now return to the character of Clodius.—
The few days, which he passed with Acillia at her Ci-
ther's villa, previous to the departure of the fiimily of
Valerius for Rome, where her marriage With him was to
be celebrated, — gave her a greater opportunity to explore
it than she had ever before commanded.

It seems to be a fact, established by observation and ex?
perience, that every individual is bom with a disposition
peculiar to himself ; yet notwithstanding, the effects of
early educadon upon the mind may thwart the natural
developements of character, and draw them into opposite
channels, from which they may never recede. Thus it
was with Clodius. His mind was not wholly deficient
(of the germs at least) of those Acuities, whose influence
often adorn humanity; and had they been properly edu-
cated, the might have displayed themselves in acts of
clemency and justice, if nothing more. In early life he
lost his mother, who was a relative of Seirlus Valerius,

ALETHES, OR

and as his fiither like that of Acillia's, was occupied with
the affiurs of the Empire, and mostly absent from Rome,
he trusted the education of his son solely to his teachers,
whom by the recommendation of a friend, or from their
being natives of Athens, he happened to employ.

Clodius, like all other boys, had great love for amuse*
ments ; and if he could manage to be in attendance du»
ring part of the hours at least, when recitations and lee-
tures took place, he was satisfied ; the remainder of bis
time he passed at exercises, such as tennis, riding, dart-
ing the javelin, running, leaping, and hunting — from
which, if he did not acquire intellectual knowledge, he
gained greater strength and elasticity of nerve.

In earlier life than customary he was admitted into the
army. Had his mind at this age heea stored with useful
knowledge, and his moral faculties been cultivated, his
disposition might have been very different from it was at
the period he was about to be united to Acillia. The ob-
stinacy of his country's enemies, the slaughter of the
field of battle, and the triumph of the camp, were inces-
santly presented to his mind, and tended to excite and
draw into acticm those animal propensities, which oflen
render life miserable.

In short, the character of Clodius yna now such as
could never make so refined, educated and sensitive a
creature happy, as Acillia. If he ever were generous, it
was to those from whom he expected, or had received fk'
▼ours; if he ever administered justice, it was to those who
could demand it ; and he never forgave or repented, or
relaxed a single purpose to execute his vengeance when an

THE nOMAN fiXlLE.

opportunity occurred, upon those who had offended him.
The possession of wealth and military glory formed the
height of his ambition ; and he endeavoured to accumu-
late the former, that he might advance the latter, even by
fraud, and by the destruction of vi;lue and innocent life.

On Aciilia's part, her marriage with Clodius was a
matter of serious consideration. She had contemplated
the fabric of her future happiness to be reared upon the
foundation of virtuous principles and a refined education ;
and now sav/ that if her destiny were linked with that ot
Olodius, she should have all her ideas of a wretched wife
realized ; and she determined to re&ist and annul all claims
that he had to lier hand.

She made kno^vn her feelings on this subject to her
parents, and represented to them in glowing language,
what she considered was the true character of Clodius
Corrinnius. Her father, who had ever been ready to
gratify the wishes of his daughter, replied that it was for
the honor and fortunes of the &milies that her marriage
with Clodius had been contemplated ; and that there ex-
isted a sacred obligation between himself and the lather
of Clodius that it should be fulfilled ; and if he was the
cause why it should not, such an important affair must
greatly redound to his dishonour. .^^,^"^-y.^-i^--^-^^'^M^

He indeed was aware that the fainily of Clodius were
ambitious ; but he had not observed that in himself, which
Avas so disagreeable as Acillia represented. He, like ail
other young men, might possess faults ; but time would
show him their true nature, and he would doubtless aban-
don them, and arise to distinction in the cause of his coun*

ALETHES, OR ,.

try. — He could not, for his part, look upon Clodius in the
same manner as she did, and hoped her suspicions were
altogether improbable.

To this reply of her father, Acillia listened with eager*
ness as on every other occasion ; but told him if he were
in any degree interested in her happiness, never force her
marriage with Clodius Coninnius ; and that for her part,
before such an event should occur, she would rather for-
feit his affection and be expelled from his houae, or
stain a dagger's edge with the blood of her heart t ^ -^

Woman has a quick and penetrating eye, and what is
learned by our.i^x from a routine ^f observations, with her
is nothing more than intuition. Her tastes are natural
and not acquired, and she forms her opinions of the world
from a principle within. Man may speculate upon silver
and gold, but the business of woman is with the affec
tions. He may suggest and present to her notice a thou-
sand object!^ but it is her prerogative to choose or reject.

The case was with Acillia, she was resolved to become
a christian. It is true, that the conduct of Alethes might
have been somewhat incentive to this measure ; but never-
theless, it was concealed from her friends, if not from
every other individual. Her mind was sufficiently dis-
criminating to distinguish the important dissimilitude be-
tween the mythology of a Roman, and the theology of a
christian ; and she was well aware, from what she had
seen of Clodius, how he would receive the intelligence of
her conveiBipn to Christianity. So favourable a time as
the present, when its followers enjoyed a rest from perse-
cution in jE^on^fit if. not thr<?ug)^9u(, the Empire, notvvith-

THE ROMAN EXILE.

»l

standing the edict of Aureliiu to that effect, she deter-
mined to embrace; but one objection only remained,
which was, that if she espoused the religion of Alethes
while he was in the family, and before Clodius perfectly
understood hor feelings towards him and a final separa-
tion ensued, it might be said that it was on account of her
partiality towards Alethes ; and might cause him to be
an object of greater hatred and revenge from Clodius. —
To prevent this, she concealed her intentions from every
one until this should occur. " * .

Autumn had now spread his influence over the sunny
hills and valleys of Italy ; and the time approached for
the departure of the l&mily of Servius for Rome, where
they always passed the winter season, and where it had
been designed that the marriage of Clodius and Acillia
?bould be celebrated.

The hour came, and the family commenced their jour-
ney in almost a northern direction ; and therefore they
entered Rome without crossing the Tiber, by the Via
Appia, which led to the foot of the Palatium. Here,
wherever they might turn their attention, scenes of extra-
ordinary beauty and magnificence were presented. But
those who formed the immediate family of Servius Vale-
rius manifested no uncommon interest in them. Perhaps
they had contemplated them a thousand times ; and the
most delightful prospects, and the sublimest works of na-
ture and art, cease to interest the spectator who has long
been accustomed to look upon them. ' •' -^i '«.

But it was not so with Alethes. He had indeed been
in Rome before, and had seen something of her splendor,

^"WTs^^wC^^

«>'>»»t'*-«*-j«

'*^wiipBpapf'^»w' ' "• *

ALETHES, OR

the £ime of which had extended to the most remote habir
tations of men; but he waa then a slave, and in chains
and journeying to a market to be publicly sold like a
beast. Notwithstanding this most despairing situation,
when he ascended the heights of the Janiculum, and the
home of his father's infancy burst upon his view, all the
susceptibilities of his soul returned. From this con-
spicuous station he beheld the temples, domes, and porticos
of the mistress of the world; and also th/8 &mous columns
of Trojan and Antoninus ; the former one hundred and
twenty-four l^^t higl^ composed of twenty-four pieces of
exquisite marble, and united in sO' carious a manner as
concealed the joints from the scrutiny of the beholdef .
It was twelve feet in diameter at the base, and ten at the
top, to which was an ascent by means of one hundred and
eighty-five steps, made within the piUar. On the outside
were represented the exploits of him whom it commemo-
rated in Dacia, and the extraordinary bridge which he
buih over the Danube to facilitate his wars with that un-
conquerable nation ; and perhaps the most magnificent
ever erected in the world, the ruins of which still remain^
and afibrd a sublime specimen of ancient architecture.
On the top of this column stood his statue, holding in the
left hand a sceptre, and in the right a globe, in which
were deposited his own ashes. The pillar of Antoninus
was sixteen feet higher, made in imitation of the other,
and erected by Marcus Aurelius, his adopted son. It still
remains entire, I believe, notwithstanding the destruction
of most of the public building;s by the barbarians, and.

modem inhabitants.

m^yf j»

iliHil :^i\^'!'^ '.HHvii.

TITE ROMAN EXILE.

* i 83

, , . . . . ft,- / •. . '

It lias already been said that the &ther of Aleihes was

'% Roman : — from him his son imbibed a deep passion
for the arts, which he always loved to cultivate. He had
executed a picture while at the villa of Servius, which,
though lie did not highly esteem, gained the approbation
of the brother of Acillia; and perhaps tended to advance
him from the more laborious employment of the slaves.
From his &ther too, as well as from her historians, and
'those whom he knew to have travelled in Italy, he ac-
quired a knowledge of the grandeur of her temples and
palaces, her costly monuments and baths. He now anx-
iously desired to examine those stupendous works of
•art which had captivated his youth. A few days after
his arrival in the city -he made a visit to the Capitol, ths
first public building which he m«t worthy of attention as
he passed along the Appian Way-— except the celebrated
Circus Maximus. This stupendous building was situa-
ted at the foot of the Palatium, on the northern side of
the Via Appia. It formed nearly an oval figure, whose
length was two thousand one hundred and eighty feet,
and seven hundred and thirty wide ; and is said by Pliny
to have accommodated two hundred and fifty thousand per-
sons. It was in this celebrated circus that Pompey , near-
ly two hundred and fifty years hefore, displayed for the
sport of the people, five hundred lions and eighteen ele-
phants, which were all destroyed during the short period
of five days.

The Capitol was situated upon the Mount Capitolinus.
it was a square building, each side of which was two
4iunSred feet in length. From the earliest period of its

ALETHES, OR

history it had been a sanctuary and a fortress. Romulus
made this his home, even before he had attempted any
^bellishment of the city. Here stood his straw-roofed
palace beside the temple of Jupiter Feretrius, almost seven
hundred years, dear in the eyes of every Roman ; and
would have remained until the Ml of the Empire, per-
haps, had it not been consumed in the conflagration arising
from the civil war between Marius and Sylla.

Within the walls of this spacious and splendid edifice,
was contained that gorgeous temple of Jupiter C '>'*'^«
linus, the boast of Rome as the rival of any in the " • i '
Here, with Minerva on his right hand and Juno on nis
left, was seated beneath a canopy of gold and purple
cloth adorned with jewels, the guardian of the Empire
upon a throne of purest gold, grasping the lightning in
one hand and the sceptre of the universe in the other ;
while the eagle, his armour bearer, was perching at his
feet. Here, in his august presence, was nothing exhibited
but the wisdom of art and the plunder of the world.
Hither, in his presence, by a hundred steps of white marble
supported by a hundred pillars of the same, assembled
victorious generals, to present to the Tarpeian deity their
vanquished monarchs, and in his temple to suspend their
spoils ; and to his majesty to ofier their hecatombs of sa-
crifice. And here, under the immediate notice and protec-
tion of Jupiter, whenever danger was about to threaten the
Empire, had the magistrates a thousand times convened to
deliberate upon the measures to be adopted. And here,
before the deity, were the laws of Rome read and pro-
claimed; and here were deposited the public archives and

t>3,''->;-»».:,

THE ROMAN EXILE.

sflie most valuable records of her history, — ^which, how-
. >ever, were destroyed by fire during the ccmtest between
Vitellius and Vespasian, forty years after the death of our
Saviour. Vespasian built it, however, immediately after
this destruction ; but it was again consumed, and again re-
built with greater splendor than ever before, by Domitian.
The entrance to the Capitol on the north side, was
under an immense triumphal arch, which was the com-
mencement of the Via Sacra, eiftending hence to the
Paktium. The gates of the Capitol were of brass, and
were four in number. Beside the splendid temples and
statues, and curious and multitudmous carvings and piC'
tures of enormous expence, the gilding of tiie Capitol
alone cost two millions of poimds.

The next and nearest place of renown to which Alethes
directed his steps, after having explored the Capitol, was
the plain, or rather the valley at the foot of the Capitolinus,
and between that hill and the Palatium. Here was sit'
. uated the Forum. This was a large oblong building,
early a scene in the eras of the greatness of Rome, of un*
paralleled magnificence and glory. It was lined along on
both sides by gorgeous piazzas and fanes, richly sculptur-
ed statues and lofty monuments. Here congregated the
warlike and magnanimous Romans to exercise their elo*
quence, to exhibit their sovereign power, and to decide
the fates of heroes, of kings, and of nations. Here, under
tl^ concave marble roo& of the Basilica, and surrounded
^with painted walls, did Marcus TuUius Cicero in his first
Oration against Cataline, turn his hands and eyes towards
•the Capitol and address Jupiter in a noble and passionate

ym&itiihi4^.

^*.V-

A^LETHES, OR

-V

,*'

^strain of eloquence; and here in the same 'place, aifter-
wardsj when he had defeated that enemy of the common*
weahh, he was hailed Pater Patria by the unanimous
voice of his countrymen. And here, too, stood Manlins
Capitolinus five hundred years before, when under sen-
tence of death t© be thrown from the Tarpeian Rock, the
north-eastern brow of the mountain. 'Here he stood be-
fore his judges and extended his arm towards the Capitol

- which he had once preserved from Tihe rapacity of the
Gauls, and diverted their attention for a time from the
subject of his death. Here, too, in the same place, stood
•Caius Grac(ihu8 as he melted the hearts of the senators,
v^hcn he asked them with an emphasis of despair,
whether he could expect to find that place a refuge,
which was once deluged with his brotherSs blood. And
here, neither last nor least, was brought Scipio Africanns
a criminal, being accused by an envious party, who in-
stead of answering to the charges laid against him, told
the people to arise and go with him to the temple of Jupi-

, ter, to present their grateful thanks and their sacrifices for
■his glorious conquest over Hannibal and the Carthage-
nians, which preserved the Empire and their invaluable
liberties. . ad here, too, in the Forum, was a Hall lead-
irig from the Rostra, beautified with hnages and costly
pictures, and accommodated with marble seats and elastic
couches, assembled Virgil and Horace to charm their
noble audience by reciting their immortal poems.

The scenes of magnificence and graaideur which ab-
sorbed the mind of Alethes to-day, excited in it also when
he left them, the deepest meditations. The interest which

THE ROMAN EXILE.

ke felt in them was created partly from the circumstance
of his &ther haying trod the same marble floors which
he had, aiul there had admired the eloquence of his couu*
trymen, and there received honours from the hands of
Aurelius; and partly because he possessed an innate love
for th^ works of art which he had beheld. His medita*
tions gave wings to the hours, and they flew away with a
rapidity which he did not suspect Ha left the palace of
Servius Valerius at noon ; the sun was now setting on
the seven hills of Rome before he thought of his return.
This might almost be said to be the first sunset hb had
seen upon the city. It was indeed the flri^ he had fclL
The palace of Servius Valerius was situated at the foot
of the Aventina, on the south-western side ; and was almost
lost amid a growth of willow, poplar and elm tree& A
little to the west rolled the Tiber ; and this, with his beau*
tiful valley, and the barren hill of Aventina, completed
the prospect — We have already observed that the sun
was withdrawing his light from the world His fare*
well beams were upon the hills of Romte ; and the many
temples and poiticos of the Capitol, with their burnished
roofs, appeared like sheets of melted gold. A flood of
dim purple light filled the heavens, and the grey of even-^
ing was spread over the earth. As Alethes looked upon
the scene which was presented to his eye, a feeling ofsad«
ness came over him, and his mind turned to the days of
his childhood ; and for a while he gave himself up to a
meditation, which tlu^ period of our lives naturally in-
spires. He thought of his own home — his early friends,
hjs mother's smile ever accompanied with a kind word —

ILETHBSr, OR

his fiuher's afiection — his uncle's cruelty — ^his boTiish-
ment — his slavery — his freedom, and the scenes of
misfortune through which he yet possibly might pass.
It is true, he had hope in Gk>d, and in Hind was his only
hold of refuge. But at times, from the peculie" circum-
stances which surround the mmd ; or firwn its own par-
ticular organization, religion's holy influence may be
exerted in vain for a while to comfort and to vivify it with
hope. It was so with Alethes: autumn, the saddest
period of the year, was about him with all his marks of
decay ; and now he was calling up his past hours in
thoughtful review. — There is at this season of the year
as we feel the beautiful light and the pleasant breezes of
summer have withdrawn, and the purple light and sigh-
ing winds of autumn have succeeded them,— « sweet, a
gentle, a soothing, although a melancholy mfluence per-
vading our very being, which we should appreciate as a
mutation of nature, and which Heaven had affected to
win our love from the grosser things of mortality. It is
now that the human heart involuntarily yields itself, like
a mip-hty instrument, to some spirit-hand, and sends its
music and its eciioes through all the recesses of our being.
Wherever now we turn our eyes, they are met by feding
objects. A few weeks ago and summer was abroad with
her music and her flowers, her joyful Iif6 and her sunny
skies. Here in the garden i^rung the pink, the rose and
the polyanthus ; there grew the clematis, the dahlia and the
geraniiun ; and yonder arose the myrtle, the orange and
the apple. The very stones beneath our feet assumed a
vegetable hue J the valleys were like gardens, and the

THE ROMAN EXILE.

hills with bloom were clothed to their highest tops. The
pe^.rl3' sky bended far and wide, and seemed like a uni<
verse of beauty, robed in light and unfolding its mingled
hues ; while beneath, the tranquil water reflected it upon
its glossy, bosom. Every gale was fragrant, and the pure
wave that it awoke died away upon the sunny shord.
Far and wide stretched the waters of lake and sea, which
we loved to look upon hour after hour, as they slept ; or
aa the zephyr sighed pensively, or the wind swept over
them, awaking wave after wave, that pursued each other
in beauty onward and onward till they passed away leav-
ing no trace behind. '■ >' ^ t' - ?AW<

Forms of beauty and loveliness decked the earth and
delighted our hearts. The bright and glorious sun
showered gently but steadily dovm his burning rays.
Green valley, waving field, woody hill, barren mountain ;
silver rivulet, majestic river, boundless sea, and transparent
lake, reflected back his quickning effulgence. And his
declining beams cast down effusions of purple and violet
light ; and hill, mountain and forest, were tinged with his
gold.

Twilight spread her veil over the v. orld and prepared it
for holier meditations. Then the spirit-stirring language
of heaven fell upon our hearts ; and we felt that the forms
of our departed friends were around us, to tell us of the
unseen world, and to invite Us away from the ^ossness of
earth, to a being of higher conceptions, holier aspirations.

At this hour, too, retrospection strewed the pathway of
the dim past with a thousand images, and presented us
with a picture of our earlier anticipations and rainbow

ALETHES, OR

■y

hopes. Our aouls were melted within us; and we felt
that the Spirit of Nature was abroad, breathing an in-
tensity of being into our hearts, and shedding down glory
from his wings.

These were the rosy hours of summer.—- They have
now passed away, renewing the conviction that the plefi*
sure:i of life are uncertain and transitory as the beauty of
the summer-cloud.

And now the footsteps of autumn are around un.—
Slowly and sadly he comes like the spirit of mourning
from starless worlds. The beautiful verdure has disap*
peared from the field. The songs of a thousand birds
are no more heard ; and the forest is desolate. The halcyon
serenity of nature penetrates the inmost soul, and infuses
into it a spirit of hallowed poetry.— Who can say that it
is not so ? And who will own that autumn has no in-
fluence over his mind 1 For my part, I cannot now go
forth into the tangled woods and gaze upon their fiiding
loveliness without feelings of melancholy at the grandeur
and solemnity that pervades them. The leaves that CHice
adorned their boughs are now yellow and strew the ground
like a crimson carpet beneath a crimson canopy above.
^ And the river flows on sbwer and more solenmly ;
and the pensive voice of the rill, chimes with the melan*
choly murmurs that fill the gale.

As we meditate upon thesfrfeding objects — ^this disolu-
tion which surrounds our path, we almost persuade our-
selves that it is the vicissitude of nature, the decay of all
that is lovely on earth. But no — even under such con-
victions hope brightens upon our de^onding hearts, and

1rb£ ROMAN EXILE.

..'-V.

sit
in*

ive

rof

ting

sap-

lirds

jyon

fuses

Lat it

^ in-

go
ding

ideur

once

ound

mly;
lelan-

isolu-
our-

of all
con-
and

\if6 anticipate anotl.erspdng of renewed verdure and life;
and if we look beyond the grave, we have a full assurance
of immortal bloom, upon which the sun of heaven shall
never sot, diffusing forever eternal lustre and eternal life.
His mind filled with meditations like vhese, Alethes
proceeded slowly on by the bank of the Tiber, and had
lefl the Sublician Biidge about half mi i'lour, when
coming to a cluster oi trees his ear caught the sound of
music, which had just then commenced. Ho advanced
towards the bank, and in the dim twilight descried a boat
at a distance, «>nd perceived that the music proceeded from
it. He soon distinguished it to be the following ode from
Horace, and one of which he had always been fond :

vAif^\!;f

'hilf

\ :»U^

iJ-l^i;;:

Rectius, vives, Licini, neque altum
Semper urgendo, nequo dum procellas
Cautus horrescb, nitnium premendo

Littus iniquum.
Aureara quisqti^s mediocritatem
Diligit, tutus caret obsoleti
Sordibus tecti ; caret invidendft

Sobrius aula.
Ssepius ventis Qgitatur ingens
PihuB ; et celssc graviore casu
Decidunt turrcs, feriuntque summoS ^ ^

Fulmina monrcs.
Sperat infestis, motuit secundis
Alteram portem bene praeparatum
Pectus. Informes hyemes reducit

Jupiter : idem
'Summovet : non, si male nunc, et olim
Sic erit. Quondam cithara tacentem
iSuacitat Musam ; neque semper arcuni

Tendit Apollo.

■fsA.

■■'■11

^i:v^P<

y -Jt-i^'-'iyC^^,.

■/.

■^r.

KL )j~..

(52

ALBTHES, OR

Rebus trtfifMitki MiimosuR fttque
Pdrtii appare : Bapienttr idem
Controhes vcnto niiuium Mcundo
Turgida vela.

.;>^j<]'^f?

'SA'jlJ

.«>«jt/

\A\ '.m\\ u,-'. — j-ii.^/r

«T. -i^'^ h :; 7*. i■^'

f ii<!irtius ! would^st thou Wiaoty live,
Not Jodways to the ocean give,
Thy wearied bark ; nor yet, in foar
Of the loud tempest, draw too near
The Bh&nows of the treacherous shore i
But !go, thio golden course explore,
And shun the evil that pursues
Had poverty's Contracted views.
The lofty pine tree raised on hi|

The driving winds more rudely feels ;
And the proud tower that seeks the sky,

But with a mightier ruin reels.
The lightnings strike the mountains' height,

While safe retires the lowly vale ;
So wait when fate and fortune fight,

And calmly hope the pleasant gale.
For thus prepared thy heart shall be,
Itself prepared for destiny ;
For Love supreme, on men below, ,4 {
Oft bids the deadly tempest blow 5 ^^^

Then check its wrath, for adverse fate.
Doth not forever on us wait.
Around us oft shall music wake,
Nor yet his bow shall Cupid break.
Then rise, with ev'ry hope elate, ^'. ,

Nor fear the frowns of angry fate ;
And when the too (Successful gale,
Shall blow, contract thy swelling sail I

■-H

THE ROMAN EXILE.

' « As Alethes lifitenod to this boautiful song wailod over
the water in delightful music, he fiuicied that i^ procoodul
from a familiar voice, which ho had heard pour it fortii
a hundred times in the richest melody ; and conceived tho
minstrel to be none other than the brother of Acillia.
He stood for a few moments in suspense, and while in this
situation, he thought that ho heard a footstep behind him.
lie turixed around, and beheld the tall figure of a man,
inufHed in a cloak and masked, but two or three pocchi
from him, with a drawn sword in his hand, uplifted, and
in the attitude of striking. The feelings of Alethcs at
meeting 90 unexpected a personage and himself wholly
.unarmed, for a moment almost overcame him. Ho, how-
ever, instantly recovered his usual self-possession, retreat-
ed u step or two, and demanded of the robber (for such
he conceived him to be), what he desired. Without
making any ply, as soon as Alethes spoke, his enemy
rushed forward ; and Alethes scarcely saved himself by
tlight. The robber pursued, and Alethes directed his
course for the river. This was the only mo4e of safety
that occurred to him. He knew that he was almost un-
rivalled in the art of swimming, and deemed it a matter
of no difficulty whatever, to cross the Tiber encumbered
as he was with his toga and sandals. In a moment, hn
found himself on the shore, and perceived that his enemy
had almost overtaken him, and that there was no possi-
bility of escape as he had anticipated. A thought flash-
ed like lightning upon his mind. He stooped down for
a stone, and accidently placed his hand upon a brok<''n
ear, which he grasped ; and hurling suddenliy around,

'®*"ALETHES, OR

brought it with an irresistible force upon the head of his
antagonist. The contusion felled him to the ground, an(|
he lay senseless.

In the confusion of the moment, Alcthes wrested his
sword from his hand, and retreated albng the shore iii the
direction which he supposed the boat took, from which
he heard the music. After turning a small point, he
heard the voices of persons from her — hailed them —
made know his situation — and was received on board.
' All this happened within the space of five minutes. To
the extreme aatisfection of Alethes, he found that the mas-
ter of the boat ^vas indeed, as he had anticipated, Publius,
the brother of Acillia. He had been on- business for two
or three months at a town called Cortona, situated upon
the Tiber, about one hundred and thirty miles from its
mouth.

The joy of Publius may be easily imagined, when
Alethes related his escape from an unknown assassin, and
presented his sword. Publius had learned by a letter
from his father of the emancipation of Alethes, and of the
manner in which it transpired. In the boat with them,
was a young man from Ephesus, who had been a scholar
with Alethes, and also his particular friend. This meet-
ing of Orontes, the name of the young man, and Alethes,
afforded each other a joy indescribable ; and Publius seem-
ed to participate of it with an interest equal to either.

Orontes heard of the banishment of Alethes soon after
it happened ; and informed him that his uncle Superius
was Yiow dead ; and that his own property, at his banish-
m^t, was COTiceded to his uncle ; and that at the death of

the

thi

THE ROMAN EXILE.

-65

!Superius, there being no heir to hia possessions, the whole
was appropriated to the benefit of the city. This was no
sad news to Alethcs. The death of his uncle, however,
he truly regretted, and more so, that the glorious light of
revealed religion had never dawnnd upon his mind. He
expcctal, however, '■ i a matter of law, that when he was
deprived of his citizj^nship, his property would be confis-
cated — but it was a mntter of tliC same moment to him.
He entertained no doubt of his citizen.-- up being restored.;
but it rested with the Emperor whe 1 iv he should be re-
instated in his, (ormer possess' -^ns.

Orontes was of a good fa niij and was educated in the
most superior manner. He had passed a year at Raven-
na where some of his family resided" ; and thence he went
-to Cortona, where he was met by, and became acquainted
■with, Publius, who invited him to Rome.

■ *■-. IT ■ ■ ■*"• "^

■i; ,'^n:'.v

.• ■-,. ..,.■ '.'.. .^_ ■ .-.-CHAPTER VI. ■ ;■ •■ -^;.^r^

The party had now arrived at the palace of Serviuis
Valerius. After the salutations, usual at such a meeting,
were over, tlni sword was exhibited. It was suspected to
be that of a military tribune. On a closer examination,
there was discovered upon the end of the hilt, engraved
within a very small circumference, the name " Clodius
Corrinnius /" — It would be beyond the bounds of possibi-
lity to describe the astonishment and horror which ensued
this discovery. ^ ,, ; ;, , ,,. .>i v m;.,,^.

AtETHES, on

tJlocliug had breakfasted with Alethes in the morning
at the table of Servius, and manifeisted no indications of
malevolence towards him ; and discoursed with his usual
freedom upon topics of conversation. About noon,
Alethes left the palace for a visit to the Capitol and other
public buildings, as has already been detailed. Soon af-
ter this, Clodius requested a chariot to convey him to the
baths of Titus. On his arrival, he ordered it to return ;
and nothing farther of him was known for the day. His
return, as well as that of Alethes, had been hourly ex-
pected, as th4 time for supper was now at hand. ■ -r -

All attention was now absorbed in the subject of the
escape of Alethes; and enquiries were made to the fol-
lowing effect:— "Did Clodiuis ever manifest any ani^
mosity towards you, Alethes ?" " Not lately, as I have
known." — " Yes, often — ^very oflen," replied Acillia.
'' To me, (she continued), he has spoken a thousand times,
and in the most bitter and reproachful language against
him." " Afler his rescue from drowning ?" — " Even so."
" It cannot be," exclaimed Servius, " that he has medita-
ted revenge upon Alethes. I have never observed any-
thing in his conduct that would justify a severe opinion
from me." — " Neither will I judge him," said Alethes ;
" but here is his sword." " It is true," replied Servius,
" here is his sword. But he may have had it stolen ; or
it may have come into the hands of another a hundred
ways, with and without, his knowledge." " And what
could induce any one to take my life here, and where I
am a stranger ?" asked Alethes, accompanied with " true !
true !" from half a dozen voices — " Dark suspicions

THE ROMAN EXILE.

irtust rest upon some one," said Publius. "Well," an-
swered Servius, " we can but let the matter rest as it is t©»
night. Let us be grateful that the life of Alethes was not
taken. We shill know farther about the affair whea
Clodius returns. He certainly will soon arrive."

The hour for supper came, yet Clodius did not appear.
Hour after hour passed away; and finally the night,
without his return, or any tidings from him. On the
morning as soon as practicable, Servius ordered his
chariot to be made ready ; and accompanied with Publius,
Alethes and Orontes, he departed for the palace of Aure-
lius. He had represented, the day previous, the case of
Alethes to the Emperor, and it was his design now to
present him personally ; and also ascertain if possible,
^hat had detained Clodius.

When the ceremony of an introduction was over,
Aurelius turned to Alethes, and enquired if he was, as he
had been informed, the son of Sorex, Praetor of Smyrna.
When Alethes assured him of this, and observed that
there was a young man bow in Rome, who had been ac-
quainted with him from childhood, Aurelius next inter-
rogated him of his banishment; of the manner in which
he became a slave ; why he did net reveal to Servius
Valerius that he was a nobleman, and had been acquaint-
ed with his family at Smyrna. To all these questions,
as well as to many others, Alethes gave satisfectory an-
swers, and left no doubt upon the mind of Aurelius
but that he was the son of Sorex, the first Praetor whom
he created in any of the eastern provinces. He was then
assured that all his former fortune should immediately be

ir~

v68

ALETHES, OH.;.

reimbursed ; and in addition to this, he should become heir
to the whole of his uncle's possessions. And furthermore,
•he would order, upon the following d^y, that the docu-
•ments which would entitle him as an heir, and would in-
sure a recovery of his citizenship at Sn^yrna, should be
drawn, and should receive his sanction and seal. This
was accordingly done ; and Alethes once again felt that
he was elevated to his former rank and dignity. Although
this transition was one from dependence upon the bounty
of his friends, to a state of affluence and honour, he did
not hail it \vith that rapture which some of my readers
might anticipate. His mind had long been disciplined in
the rough school of adversity ; and he felt assured that if
he she did regain his wealth, he would live as become an
intellectual c • r.iiu'e, whose destiny is as uncertain as the
winds of heaven, and who knows not what even the mor-
row has in store ; and that he would of the most part of
what was termed riches, consecrate to Him who had so
wonderfully, preserved him in adversity.

WhHe Publius and Orontes were passing through the
Via Flaminia, leading from the northern or Flaminian
^te to the Capitoline hill, he was accosted by a person
whom he recognized as an old and valued friend. They
had not seen each other for four or five years. The friend
of Publius had been abroad for the most part of the time,
but during two or three months past, he had returned to
Rome and established himself as a physician. , , ..„ .,-,

After a conversation, natural upon the meeting'of friends
who had long been separated, Publius was asked by his
iriend : he hud heard of the attempt to ?issassinate a noble-

THfi ROMAl*^ E3tlLE.

man upon the evening before. " No," answered PubliusK
" I was called," hrs friend observed'. " last night to dress,
the wounds of a gentleman. On arriving at his residence,
I found his skull severely fractured just above his temple,
and the left eye wholly ruined." " Fractured ? — ^with a
battle-axe I suppose." " No— the nobleman says not.
It appeared that he had gone to the Janiculum, where he
remained till twilight. And just before he crossed the
Tiber, while passing through the Fabrician Grove, he
was assailed by a ruffian, dressed in a coarse toga,
masked, and supporting a long knotty club. The robber
demanded his gold, and he grasped his sword to defend
himself; but before he had sufficient time to unsheathe it,
he received a dreadful blow that brought him insensibly
to the ground. Here he lay sometime ; and upon reco-
vering his- consciousness, he discovered that he was rob-
bed of several* pieces of silver and gold; all his rings and
sword. He arose, and after proceeding a short distance,
was overtaken by a chariot which conveyed him to the
Flacci Diversorium, where I found hin«, anit" where he
still remains. — But, if possible, he intends to leave the
city to-morrow." — " Leave the city !" exclaimed Publius
and Orontes at once. " For what place ?" — " Tarquina.
His own chariot is iiv Rome, and he will be sufficiently
recovered to go thither." — " Lost his sword," ejaculated
Publius, half unconscious of what he said. — " And what
is his name," he continued. " I learned that it was Cor-
rinnius Tarquinse. This Flaccus told me, and observed
that he belonged to the army." — ^" Corrinnius Tarquina t^
exclaimed Publius, " And did you not know him ?"— -

• ».'>i'

ILETHES, OR >

"I think I never before saw him," "If it is ClodiuSi
Corrinnius Tarquinas, you have, for he was a schoolfel-
low with us both, when we were instructed by Justinus,
the philosopher." " But it cannot be the same, he is so
tall and stout." — " True ! but he has done little lese for
the last four years beside exercising." — " It may be the
same, I have not yet seen him this moraing. If possible
I will ascertain." — " / must, and will ascertain," empha-
sised Publius, casting a significant took at Orontey.
" He has a private apartment, I presume." — " Certainly ;
and gave orders last evening, for no one whatever, with-
out his permission, to be admitted." " I shall see him
and others with me, before he leaves Rome. It is no less
than Clodius Corrinnius Tarquinaa, whom I well know.
I heard of his misfortune last night, and had I known
that he was at the Flacci Diversorium, I should have seen
him long before thia hour."^ " I go immediately to call
upon him.'*— ^" "^ou do? We then will accompany," said
Publius ; and accordingly the three individuals proceeded'
towards the Inn, On; arriving, the physician sent a ser-
vant to acquaint his patieitf th^t he was waiting to be re-
ceived. " Admit him," was the reply. The physician
entered ; and after enquiring for his health, and asking a
few indispensible questioas, be observed that there v'.s a
gentleman waiting to see hinu '^Who?" eaquired the
patient. " Publius Valerii."-"" Publius Valerii .'" echoed
the patient, confounded at the pronunciation of the name.
" What does he desire ?— How did he know I was here?"
" I met him but a few moments ago, and told him of your
Sftisfortune. He said, however^ that he had already hearcl

THE ROMAN EXILE.

of it, and wished to see you." " He must go without
feeeing me. I cannot see any one to-day beside yourself.
Not even my father-^! have more business than I can
despatch before I leave the city. You have not forgotten
that it is my intention to leave Rome to-morrow ? My
wounds will permit that necessity.— Examine them. My
eye is not so bad as you anticipated. It is not at all pain*
ful. I am not inclined to think I shall loose it after all.
And my head-^that is attacked with little or no pain ; so
little, that I can very comfortably walk, and even write.
So you see, I shall be able to ride to-morrow, if not in
my chariot, quite conveniently on horse. If you dress
my wounds now, and again in the morning, I think I
shall not need any more medical aid, till I reach Tar-
quina — I think I told you 1 was going thither. Stop
though a moinent, before you proceed, I will give orders-
to the servant that I shall not see any person tosiay.

The physcian now proceeded to examine the wounds
of his patient. He found them in a much better condi*
tion than he had presumed. The eye, upoa the last even*
ing was very much st jUen— it had now the apperance
of being a very little no. It was injured in no other
me^mer than from the blow which the frontal bone sus*
tained. This had received a severe shock ; but was fer
f>'v» :i being so bad as was supposed.
. * After dressint the wounds, and >^^wJing a few minutes
in conversation with his patient, the physician hdl him ;
and on going into the street-hall, he found that Publius
and Orontes had not yet departed. When i 'ublius heard
that Glodius would not permit himself to be seen, even by

-; Ai.ETMKi3, OR

•»',

•:^

him, he felt convincfid tiint the BiUai] , it assassination
upon the life 3f Aleiiies, was evidently nade by Clodius;
and (leieTminei.^ 'hat he should answer for so ungrateful a
retUH". ?f the exertion of Alethes to save his life.—
" What stTarv,c;e conduct i«i this ^" ; e ti.> )ught to himself.
**' He carac to Boinetobe marrieJ — dined yesterday at
rny father's, ar d 1 ;ftihe palac ^ as good spirits as usual,
to all appearance-— has since been in Home, and has sent
no message to explain his absence-*— leaves the city to-
morrow, and without permitting his friends, even me, to
pee him ! Why, he has an important cause with Verus to
come before the Senate upon the fourth day, the day after
to-morrow. All tliis conduct is very mysterious, and
certainly very suspicious. The times of assassination
and conspiracy are past. My uncle, Aurelius, will not
suflfer the innocent, when assailed, vO go unrequited and
unprotected. The Senate opened yesterday : to-morrow
it can try any criminal case, or even to-day, if necessary.
But there is the praefect — Clodius Corrinnius shall not
leave Rome without explaining his extraordinary con-
duct. — He shall be apprehended!" Absorbed ii. such
reflections as these, Publius was seated with his sagnm,
or military cloak, wrapped about aim and looking stead-
fastly on the ground ; and was unconscious of the pre- .
Rence of his friend till he had twice or thrice spoken to
him.

. ested itself to the mind of T' iius,
3ary to ascertain the residoi ce of the

us ; and he had waited only to aocom-
'nk:h being effected, he t-^^jk leave of his

A thought s
that it might be
physician <>
;{)iish this.

^''■■'^Su^^-it

THK ROMAN EXILE.

friend, and proceeded in company with Orontes towards
the palace of his uncle. Here he met Alethes and his
father ; and after acquainting his tmcle of the business
which he was deputed to transact at Cortona, he revealed
to his father all .that he had learned of his friend respect-
ing Clodius.

The character of Servius Valerius may be easily
sketched. He was a man of unflinching rectitude of
-conduct. The prosperity of Rome was the summum bo-
num. of his existence. If laws were enacted, or measures
adopted for the good of his country, he was one of the
first to execute and pursue.them. He was irreproachable
of neglect of duty, in any one instance, during his mili-
tary career ; and had discharged his responsibilities with
the highest honours. Every obligation which devolved
upon him, he endeavoured to fulfil at the hazard of his
fortune, his life, or the happiness of his family. Yq% the
honours of his family were ever dear to his heart; and
in all his relations to them, he was kind, affectionate and
noble j and any attenticNn to them from his friends he
never forgot, and never failed to reciprocate if an oppor-
tunity occurred.

Publius differed in some respects from his father, and
copied him in others. Like his father, he had the warmest
heart, was munificent to the destitute, and had the live-
liest sense of gratitude and honour ; but was precipitate
in action, and inexorable to offence, and differed from Ser*
vij.s 1 these respects only.

Whtjn Sorvius "Valerius heard the manner in which
Clodius was wounded, as related by his physician, and of

ALETHES, OR

his refusing an interview with Publius, he began to fear
that there were some grounds for suspicion. The whole
affair was full of mystery to him. — " What," he asked,
" could Clodius Corrinnius have against you ? Alethes.
You have never offended him to my -knowledge."—
" Never, I hope," answered Alethes. " But,'' he con-
tinued, " I am a christian. Clodius professes to be my
enemy in this respect." " Yos," replied Servius, " he
mos; implicitly adheres to all the ceremonies of our re-
ligion. But while Christianity does not effect the happi-
ness of any 'citizen of Rome, it is protected ; and your
conduct and rank, Alethes, entitle you to the jame dis-
tinction with Clodius Corrinnius."

But what most perplexed Servius, was, the refosal of
Clodius of an interview with Publius, who had ever
manifested a profound interest in his prosperity ; especial-
ly as he was wounded, and in the manner as communi-
cated by his physici'M'. And furthermore, he was, with-
in a day or two, to have nri important trial with Verus.
He could not go to Tc.rquina,adistanceof twenty leagues
or more, and return, before it commenced. As soon as
this was over, he had proposed to celebrate his marriage.
Really, he could not comprehend such behaviour.

While Servius Valerius was pondering over these dif- "
ficulties, and discussing their merits with Publius and
Alethes, a slove requested to speak to him. K3 m us ad-
mitted, and handed Servius the following letter, which he
opened and read

" To SERvirs V, Rius : — I quit Rome immeuiat' ly.
My motives for dpin^^ , can, to a^iy L*jeral mind, be sa-

THE ROMAN EXILE.

dif-"

and
ad-
hhe

e sa-

tisfectorily explained. I was received, after my long ab-
sence from your house, by yourself and family with cor-
diality. But I soon discovered that I did not possess tho
affections of her, to whom I have long been affianced.-^—
Why was not I married long before this period ? You
yourself well know how I have borne forward the eagle
of Rome for three years in Africa, without once, during
that time, seeing my native country.

" The affections of your daughter arc given to another —
to an exile, a buffoon, a mendicant ! Would you have
your daughter, who has ever been instructed to revere and
worship the divinities of Rome, connected with one who ab-
hors them, and vho would evra seduce her to commit the
same im • jty? — Marry her the*" to Alethes, your freed-
man ! He has neither sense to dis(.'fr , nor soul to ad-
mire the splendour with which Rome, the mistress of tho
world, is crowned. But, Servius Valerius, why should
I tell you that your daughter is already a christian ? —
How can you f'oubt this, if you have your senses? No
longer ago than the morning of yesterday, while passing
the door of your ante-room to my apartment, I heard your
daughter and your freedman in close conversation. I lis-
tened, as a wise man should; a: i. ; chold he was expound-
ing his absurdities to Acillia, who acknowledged them in
terms of the greatest complacency I She knew your reli-
gious opinions, and understood mine ; and does such con-
duct evince fidelity to me, or reverence to yourself? — Are
you astonished ? — So am I ! /, that you have not sufficient
discernment to discover that your daughter loves a fool ;
and 1/ini, that I sliould thus plainly tell you the truth !

■ff*-.^

ALETHfS, OR

"You are of one of the noblest femilies of Rome ; and
so am I. For this reason you early provided for your
da"r' 's marriage with the son of my father. Have I
not arguments to dissolve this precious contract ? Bridlb
your anger like a philosopher, as you have done, or
Rome shall hear them uttered in her Forum with t>n elo-
quent tongue ! Solace yourself, Sir, with the Pflory of
taking the crown from the brow of Thesbites, the enemy
of our coimtry ! / shall never ask tL hand of ymt
daughter in marriage! My honour icould be contami-
nated by suck an impious step ! — What redress will you
then demand, O Servius Valerius ? Half a thousand ta-
lents of gold,* the woiiii of my father V: estate at Tar-
quina ? This would make you a throi' which might
rival that of Jupiter Capitolinus !

" I am a soldier ; and you haye educated your son to
the profession of arms. If you should h reafter think
that I have cast a shadow upon the dignity of your fa-
mily,* the brightness of the sword of Publius might erase
it. Clad your son as a knight of Rome, and let him ap-
pear at the circus of Nero. It is without the walls of
tlie city. I will expose myself to his vengeance, equally
armed as himself Bwt you will not da this. You know-
too well how bravely 1 have fought at your sidie. You
"wil i dkcuse yourself from this, by saying that it is belom

* A talent of gold weighs about fifty-seven pounds. The value of
an estate of a wealthy citizen of Rome, was almost incredible. The
property of Seneca, the philosopher, was valued at two millions,
four hundred, and twenty thousand pounds sterling I

m *

THE ROMAN EXItE.

to
link

fa-
'ase

ap-

of
[ally

lOW

ou
'low

tiueof

The

ions,

your dignity. True ! your dignity is so much more ex-
alted than that of the son of the Emperor of Rome ! Do
not forget how Commodus shines upon the arena of the
Coliseum I

" I leave Rome ; but not for anything which I have
done. I shall soon return ; and then shall be ready to
answer any demands which you may mak. upon rae,
and not before.

" I subscribe myself,

• i v- « ClODIUS CORRINNIUS."

Servius Valerius perused this letter without manifeflt-
ing any emotions of indignation. He then quietly rolled
up the parchment, and requested Publius and Alethes to
accompany him into the presence of Aurelius. He ac-
quainted the Emperor with what had happened to Alethes
on the evening before, and his wresting the sword from
the hand of the robber, bearing on its hilt the name
" Clodius Corrinnius ;" and also, with what Publius had
communicated to him respecting the misfortune of Clo-
dius on the same evening, as related by his physician.
He farther observed that Ciodius had denied Publius an
interview; and thoa, uni rolling the letter which he re-
<jeived from Clodius, he presented it to Aurelius. Aftfer
the Emperor, Publius perused it. He scarcely finished
it before he sprung from his seat, and swore by the altar
of Mars, that before Clodius Corrinnius should again in-
dite as many words, he would bury his sword to the
handle in his breast. The sentence was scarcely utter-
ed, before he rushed from the palace, and proceeded to

ALETHE3, OR

the Flacci Diversorium. Aurelius hurried.lo the portico
of his palace, and commanded ten of his guards, who
were in attendance, to pursue and return Publius.

Before Publius was aware of the proximity of the sol-
diers, one advanced^ and snatched his sword from his
sheath in a moment, exclaiming " the Emperor com-
mands it /" Resistance was out of the question, and
Publius was brought into the presence of Aurelius as
guiltless as when he left it, and with his anger somewhat
abated. As he entered, Aurelius exclaimed, addressing
himself to Publius, " stop, stop my son ! Would you
forever dishonour yourself, by performing so foul a deed,
as the murder of Clodius Corrinnius, for so slight a
cause? I wield the sceptre and the sword of Rome. If
Corrinnius have broken the laws, their penalty must be
enforced. Learn to be wise, Publius, from the adminis-
tration of them. Any one can refuse you an interview ;
and for the suspicion of murder, no man must forfeit his
life. There is, from the events of last night, undoubted
cause for the implication of Corrinnius, in the attempt to
assassinate Alethes And as he has made disgraceful
insinuations upon the honour of your family, Servius,
you retain his letter and may damand satisfaction. For
his violent anger, a man ahvays punishes himself If
judgement be abandoned to the course of passion, there is
always a speedy goal of errbr and misfortune. But you
retain the sword of Corrinnius: let him speak for hijpn-
self, that he may redeem it."

" I desire that he may," answered Servius Valerius.
"But if he should suspect my dfesign, he will leave

Rome
foe app

Acc(
to reta
were ir
time, ci
guard (
on, and
his sla\
and as
departu
steeds ;
and had
officer
known
return !-
to the cl
containe
nius Ta
Aureliui
he arose
grasped
Tiber,
officer ti
heavy s
horse th
made on
this last
from hin
to the gr

THE ROMAN EXILE.

Rome immediately.-^Command, therefore, that he may
be apprehended."

Accordingly a band of armed soldiers were dispatched
to retain Clodius. Arriving at the Diversorium, they
were informed that he had lefl ; and was probably, at that
time, crossing the Palatine Bridge. The officer of the
guard called for a horse, commanded his men to follow
on, and pursued him at full speed. Clodius had sent for
his slaves to the palace of Servius early in the morning ;
and as soon as they arrived, he made preparations for a
departure. He ordered his chariot, and four elegant
steeds ; and accompanied with his slaves, ho departed ;
and had commenced ascending the Janiculum l)efore the
officer overtook him. The officer immediately made
known his message. — " The Emperor cc ^ands me to
return ! — Slaves, stop the chariot." The oti>: ; rode up
to the chariot, and handed Clodius a pt k ."mi * which
contained the following : — " I desire *h>>. c ImIiu rrin-
nius TarquincB may appear at my p<ilice withc c' ^lay.
Aurelius Imperitor." As soon as he reat' I ." entence,
he arose from his seat, and unsheathed his 3\\rord. He
grasped it hard in his hand, and pointing towards the
Tiber, exclaimed, " who comes yonder !" AAd as the
officer turned his head to look, Clodius brought down his
heavy sword with such a force upon the neck of his
horse that nearly severed it from his body. The horse
made one dreadful bound, ana fell dead to the earth. In
this last effort of the animal, his rider cleared himself
from him without sustaining any injury. As he alighted
to the ground, Clodius called out to him, " the Emperor

*!!?•*

ALETHES, OR

xan see me at Tarquina, if he desires !" As he said this,
his lash resounded over the horses ; and they were in the
tict of springing forward with the chariot, when the offi-
cer dreAv his sword and houghed the hind leg of the
nearest horse. Clodius instantly leaped to the ground
and attacked the centurion with the madness of a fiend.
'The air resounded with the clashing of swords, and the
high, overhanging rocks echoed it back. Clorlius struck
the left arm of the ofHcer and disabled it, and his shield
-fell to th^ ground. The centurion bravely defended
himself Blow met blow with equal rapidity and
strength ; and for sometime, the contest appeared doubtful.
•But Corrinnius hearing the trampling of horses, prevent-
ed only Irom seeing them by a turn of the road which ,
wound round the mountain, and suspecting the apprcttich
of aid from his enemies, pushed hard upon his antagonist,
and with one desperate blow laid him senseless upon the
ground. He seized the shield of his vanquished foe and
fixed it on his arm. By this time, those whom he point-
'cd out from his chariot to the centurion, and whose ap-
proach he heard, had advanced within a few yards of
liim. They w^re Publius and Alethes. They obtained
iknowledge of the departure of Clodius, procured horses
and pursued him. They arrived and dismounted ; but
were scarcely upon their feet, and ready for their enemy,
when he, exasperated to the higVest degree, and fearing
a conquest from his foes, riJnied upon them with renewed
vigour. Publius darted forward like lightning to me^t
him. His ,anger and courage were equal to those of
Clodius — ^" The circus of Nero f^ exclaimed Publius, "*

TRE ROMAN EXILE.

Jtne gladiator you f^ renrinding^ him of his proposal in
his letter to Servius ; and with the force of both arms,
he thmsted his spear into the shield of Corrinnius before
he haf* sufficient time to- approach him, and bore it from
his arm, testing it down the precipice near them, and con-
temptuously exclaimed^ " my spear pursues it," throwing
it after. His sword by this time was drawn, and the
combatants fought like lions. Clodius had the advantage
of an elevation above Publius, who, in making an effort
to equal his adversary in thi& respect, slipped and fell to
the ground ; and before he could regain his feet, Corrin-
nius severed his head from his. body.. He was exaspe-
rated to such a degree, that he became unconscious of the
presence of any one ; and now, darting his eyes wildly
around upon the field of his carnage, he discovered
Alethes assisting the wounded centurion..

Although AletheS'was niot educated for war, yet he
was not destitute of that courage, cBscretion, and activity,
which generally never fail to distinguish the soldier's
life. It has already been observed that his father had
designed him for the forum ; and perhaps for this situa-
tion his talents were admirable. He had an excellent
fi.'^ure, tall and majestic; and a strong, harmonious voice ;
and an unbounded command of his language. His fea-
tures might, perhaps, rather possess the characteristics of
a Grecian, than a Roman. His fece was of an oval form,
delicately moulded, and small His lips were thin, and
beautifully curved His eyes rather approaching to a
greyish shade, were larg?- and prominent. His hair
was nearly of a dark colour, and hung about his neck in

ALETHES, OR

beautiful shoit curls. Added to these external features,
he possessed an extraordinary degree of benevolence ;
which was, perhaps, the most prominent trait in his cha-
racter. If he saw a fellow-creature exposed to danger,
he wholly forgot himself in a desire to preserve his life ;
and the flood, fire, and the sword, were no barriers
against him. When Publius engaged with Clodius, the
attention of Alethes was directed towards the wounded
officer ; and he flew to render him, if possible, timely as-
sistance. The moment Corrinnius recognized him, his
heart bounds in his bosom with a fiendish gladness; and
he advanced with his conquering sword drawn, ready to
cut him down when he approached sufficiently near him.
Alethes saw the proximity of his enemy, and sprung to
his feet to receive him. He had not a conception of ihe
dreadful conffict which had ensued. He supposed Clo-
dius, when Publius engaged him, already exhausted, and
Wi" ^Id doubtless yield to preserve his life. He had not
read the letter of Clodius, and therefore did not know the
determined spirit of revenge, that burned within his bo-
som. Alethes, in a moment, seemed to realize for the
first time, that his own devoted friend, Publius, was in-
deed slaughtered. He saw his murderer within three or
four paces from him. He drew from beneath the folds of
his toga a sword ; and holding it up, exclaimed, " your
sword, Corrinnius."— It was enough. They fought. The
blood streamed in torrents from each others' arms and
chests. But Alethes was too refreshed, too vigorous for
his adversary. The long sword of Clodius, which
Alethes wielded, was his own overthrow. Alethes saw

THE ROMAN EXILE.

an opportunity — made a master effort, and cut the right
arm of his foe at the elbow, that it hung powerlessly by
his side. The sword dropped from his hand, and Alethes
with his foot, hurled it to some distance from them. This
was the last effort of Clodius. He looked despairingly
around him, and endeavoured to leap from the precipice
upon the rugged rocks, two hundred feet below ; but
was deterred by Alethes, who threw him to the ground
and prevented it. The guards, by this time, arrived, and
took him in custody.

The horse, when the centurion wounded him, became
ungovernable, and overturned the chariot. By this event,
the slaves being entangled by the reins, with the cha-
riot and horses, were hurled headlong over the preci-
pice, and were dashed to pieces by a descent of nearly
two hundred feet.

The centurion, who was wounded in the head, was
able to rise, although he had suffered much from the loss
of blood ;illid to proceed, with assistance, towards the
palace of Aurelius. .... *

The body of Publius was removed ; and on the second
day after, was buried with honouis in the family sepul-
chre of bis father, near the palace, bearing this inscrip-
tion : — " Publius Servii Valerii sub hoc monumento ja-
cetr

Clodius Corrinnius was taken to Rome ; and after a
summary enquiry before the Emperor, he was bound
with chains and confined in one of the lowest prisons to
wait a farther trial. A Roman, upon suspicion of mur-
der, might be arraigned before a chief magistrate, and im-

ALETHES, OR

dergo an immediate examination ; and if su^ici^t proof
could not instantly be produced, he was. liberated without
farther delay ; but if he were Imown to take the life of a
countryman, either accidently or designedly, the laws
considered him guilty, until proved the reverse.

On the morping of the third day, Clodius was brought
into the judgemeat hall of the prsefect, for ^'" trial before
the Emperor. It proceeded. Alethes st examin-

ed. He was interrogated respecting :he manner by
which he came in possession of the swoi. . He related
the circumstance as has already been detailed. An eX'
amination proceeded as follows :

AuRELius. — What time in the evening did this hap'
pen?

Alethes. — ^About one hour after sunset.

AiTRELius. — You were proceeding in the way from
the Sublician Bridge i

Alethes. — I was. -4-

AuRELius. — Do you recollect thq form of the mask
the individual wore, whether it concealed the whole head,
or the fece only ?

Alethes. — For the face only. . . .

AuKELivs. — Having neither beard or hair attached to
it? •

Alethes-^^I could distinguish neither. *

AvRELius. — You examined the place where this oc-
curred, on the morning following, you observed. Were
you alone ?

Alsthes. — No— Publius and Orontea were with me.

TRE ROMAN EXILE.

^■j'^^-^.

AtRELXUS. — Had you loft the palace alone, before you
proceeded to this place ?

Alethe8.^-I had not. We went early in the morn-
ing. The mask was sh'^'ered to fragm^ts, which were
scattered over the sand. I stili retain a piece of it, with
the string attached, which fastened it up on the fece. We
discovered blood upon this part. The broken oar, as I
ha'v^e related, was also found. (The fragment of the mask
was handed to Aurelius).

AuRELius. — ^Were you with them, Orontes ?

Obontes. — I was — in the boat with Publius in the
evening, and vvkh him and Alethes on the morning after,
when they examined the place, as Alethes has related.

Aurelius.— >Did he suspect any person, calling his
name?

Orontes. — None. - t r

Aurelius. — ^Were you present when they arrived at
your palace, Servius Valerius? t< ,. . ,

Servius. — I was. V

AuREUUs. — Did you hear Alethes cast suspicions on
any particular person, relative to the attempt upon his

lifer .„,, ■.-. v-v.j'>.--->

Servius. — ^Upon none. The sword was discovered
to bear the name of " Clodius Corrinnius" upon it, yet
he did not say that he thought it was Corrinnius, who
had ttideavoured to take his life. . .-^^ -..

AvREMus. — Let Olodius Ccrriimius answer for him-
self. It is for his own honour that he esqplains the man-
ner, if possible, how his sword could come in the posses*
sion of Alethes — or of another, -,

ALETHES, OR

(Some time was now passed in waiting for an explana-
tion from Olodius, who, notwithstanding the emperor
commanded him to answer, and intimated that his hfe
was at his disposal, positively refused to make any other
reply, than that Aurelius "might proceed with the exami-
nation of the witnesses ;" and he stood immoveable during
the remainder of his trial, the personification of scorn
and revenge. His physician was next examined, who
related how Clodius was deprived of his sword, as com-
municated to him). • V ■ • • ■ -

-^ AuRELius.-Clodius Corrinnius himself told you of this?

Physician. — He did.
^ Aurelius. — Were there any othrrs present?
* Physician. — There was a servant; but I should not
know him.

Aurelius. — At what hour did he say this happened?

J,...

V* Physician. — I thiak about twilight.

Aurelius. — Kd he say where this affair took place?

Physician. — He told me in the Fabrician Grove.
'"^'Aurelius. — Well, all this is very possible. If it
were done early in the evening, the robber who assailed
Clodius Corrinnius, might afterwards have crossed the
Tiber, and encountered Alethes with the iword which he
took from Clcdius. — But this is a L.iigular mask. You
see it is Grecian, From the part of the face which re-
mains, it has evidently been designed for tragedy. I'uere
have been no plays recently acted in Rome. And the
mask is also new. Now, if this can be indentified by
any barber, and the person to whom he sold it, the indi-
vidual who assailed Alethes, may easily be traced.

THB ROMAN EXILE.

(There was a barber's shop near the baths of Titus ;
and as it had been intimated thaX Clodius went thither
from the palace of Servius, Aurelius requested that the
barber might be called. He accordingly appeared and
was examined.) ' r i - , ..v f*..

Aurelius.— Have you disposed of any mask^ lately ?

Barber. — Not within a day or two. I sold one four
days ago. ^ I . ../Avi>^?^

Aurelius. — Four days? Be certain. Was it not
more than four days since 1 . .,,

Barber. — I think only four days. If you will per-
mit me to return, I can tell you precisely.

Aurelius. — No. You may send any one for the book.

(A servant to the barber brings the book with the date.
Upon this day the barber had purchased some goods,
and he recollected selling the mask by this occurrence).

Barber. — Yes. This is the day, four days ago.

Aurelius. — Would you not recognise the masic,
should you see it?

Barber. — I should. It was the only one I had ; and
was for the face only, and designed for tragedy. There
was upon the right side of the face,"*"near the chords,
which were of silk, a hole cut by my boy, which I should
surely know, were I to see it again. (The broken mask
was handed to him). This is the same. Here is tht;
very cut, — you can see it was made by a small knife.

Aurelius. — There was no other person in the shop
w^hen the individual purchased it, I suppose.

Barber. — Yes. My servant was present at the same
time, and heard nic speak of the sale.

.:*.

ALEt^i^ Oft '

AuRELius — (To the servant) Were you present? Did
you see any person buy this mask ? ^'^*'^

SfiRVANT. — Yes, I saw a man, — he wore a military
cloak ; and I recollect of hearing my master say, " /
ant glad I sold Uy • ^

AuRELius. — You said he wore a military cloak. —
You would not know him again, I suppose. • ■'

Servant. — I think J ahould.

AuRELius. — Is that the person ? (pointing to the piiso-
ner).

Servant. — No. He has no military cloak. " Thai
is the man .'" exclaimed the barber, " I recollect the face
well, although disfigured with wounds. And as he tried
the mask to his face, I observed upon his right ear a
scar, which appeared to have been made with a sword."

The head of Corrinnius was now uncovered ; and his
ear was found to possess the same mark, as described by
the barber. , ,, „ ., 5;,, ,?

»v It was now proved beyond a doubt that he was the
same person who had attempted to assassinate Alethes.

■ '^ The Epiperor next enquired into the conduct of Cor-
rinnius, relative to the death of Publius. The testimony
of Alethes was i^ his favour. He stated that as soon as
he and Publius arrived, Publius dismoimted, drew his
sword, and attacked Cloddus, who rushed forward to
meet him ; and that during their encounter, which lasted
only a few minutes, he himself endeavoured to render as-
sistance to the wounded centurion, who had recovered his
Qonsciousness, and was making an effort, to rig^ ^ ^^^

THE ROMAN EXILE.

•that he sa\7 Publius fall, and Clodius give the blow,
which terminated his existence.

After the examination of Alethes, the Emperor arose
and delivpred the following address : — " Friends and
ijountryrntn ! You have been witnesses to-day of the tjial
of ClodiuT Corrinnius Tarquinse; who, for an attempt
upc. the life of Alethes, the son of Sorex, Prestor of
Smyrr , has been found guilty. , ..«, ,.,&,.>;>

" It was my design, when I heard of this affair, to
have it immediately investigated. Upon sending for Clo-
dius Corrinnius, therefore, that I might more effectually
know the truth of this matter, he contemptuously treated
the message ; and wounded Licinus, chief officer of the
guard ; and by conduct so base, has caused the death of
Publius, the son of Servius Valerius.

" The law?! of Rome were made to restrain crime ; to
benefit ^^.e jople ; to administer justice to the poor as
well as t the rich ; and to diffuse happiness throughout
this vasf enxpire. They do not condemn to death a citi-
zen, who has endeavoured to take the life of another, and
did not succeed. The punishment rests with the judge,
to inflict a forfeiture of property, or to banish him to dis-
tant co; itries for a time,

" It shy Id ever be the object of a wise sovereign to
protect such laws, and to enforce their penalties upon the
guilty, — ^upon the patrician as upon the plebian. Rank
should nci prompt his partiality, nor riches seduce his
judgement. • ^- ■ v .

" In exarainiH;^, therefore, the case of Clodius Corrin-
^us, to say nothing of certain imputations made upon

ALOTHES, OR

tiie honour of the family of Servius Valerius, which
have not been adduced to-day, he has been found guilty ;
find as a punishment for which, I command that he shall
be banished forever ; that he shall forfeit all claims to
distinction as a citizen and a patrician ; and that he shall
never, under penalty of death, aj/pear, after ten days,
within fifteen hundred stadia* of the city of Rome.

" And in prosecution, therefore, of this my judgement,
let it be made known to the Senate, and to the people of
Rome."

After the pronunciation of this decision of Aurelius,
Clodius Corrinnius was returned to prison ; and on the
day following, he was clad in a mean garb, conducted
without the walls of the city, and was left to pursue what-
ever direction he might choose.

CHAPTER VII.

On the day previous to the trial of Corrinnius, Alethes
obtained the documents, to which was affixed the empe-
ror's seal, declaring in the name of Rome, that his citi-
zenship was restored : and tha* he should not only in-
herit the possessions of his &ther, but that those of his
uncle should also be added : that the confiscated lands of
Alethes, the son of Sorex, sliuuld be redeemed ; and those
of Supcrius should be repurchased by the public money,
and given to Alethes, their lawful heir. , i

* A Stadium is about one eighth of a mile.

THE ROMAN EXILE.

of his
forgottoT

many ...

absence (

In the midat of all the changes of circumstances and
friend? ♦^ "icfh which Alethes had passed, from the ti^vn
nation to the present period, he had u^vi: x
red obligations he owed to God ., ' ■ .
8 , and the manuscript had always, in the
.i lends, been his companion.

He had now accomplished his wishes relative to the
necessary documents for the recovery of his property ;
and the only diliiculty which remained, and wb ich he
dreaded, was the tedious journey to Lydia to tak<' posses-
sion of his property. The members of the family of
Servius Valerius were the only persons of relmement
Avith whom he had associated since his banishment from
Smyrna ; and he now felt that sincere attachment towards
them, which is thf natural result of a long and friendly
intercourse; and tiv interest which Servius himself had
taken in his welfare, excited a filial affection within his
heart, which Alethes thought would render him unable
forever to separate himself from his noble benefactor.
He piously revered him for his devoiion to his country ;
he admired him for his private virtues ] and loved him
for his generosity and the magnanimity of his nature.

Servius Valerius and his family were much affected
by the death of Publius. As for Servius himself, he
could have supported the loss of his son with a greater
fortitude, had he perished upon the field of battle i de-
fence of his country ; but to die by the hand of one so de-
testable, who, for his own base conduct, and baser ingrati-
tude, deserved to suffer death, was itself a source of vexa-
tion and sorrow. The grief of Acillia and her mother

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ALETHES, on

^ere of the purest kind. They bore no animosity to-
wards Clodius Corrinnius, but lamented with profound
and lasting sorrow, the loss of a brother and a dutiful
son.

In the first violence of our grief for the dead, for the
decease of those whom we have long known and dearly
loved, there is often something that may be censured, as
well as much that may truly be revered and admired.
We suppose that we can never grieve too much for the
loss of those who have suffered death — who have gone
down into the grave, to mingle their bodies with the dust
that surrounds them. We recall their past conversations,
their looks, their smiles, their many kindnesses, their
good qualities. As we ponder upon these things, we re-
turn the dead to the stage of mortal action, and surround
them again by their friends. Pleasant hours are recall
led, and pleasant scenes reacted. JBut in the midst of our
imaginary happiness, the truth of their final separation
from mortal intercourse, forces itself upon our hearts,
and our enthsiastic delight is repaid by a new return of
anguish. Again we sigh and weep for the dead, as we
realize that we can look no more upon them. We now
think of the corruption of the grave, and of ^he reptiles
that devour the once lovely form ; and that in a little
while, their deeds and their names will soon be obliterated
forever from the memory of mortals. ^<^^.^

Absorbed in reflections like these, Acillia passed seve-
ral days, refusing to take almost any nourishment, and
withdrawing herself from society, and as much as
possible from her own most intimate friends. Her health

THE ROMAN EXILE.

iKMn became much reduced, and her imagination was be-
coming sensibly affected. During tht day, she would
retire to the uppermost room of the pabce, and look for
hourfii towards the Janiculum, the scene of the tragical
death of her brother ; and when the shades of evening
were diffused over the earth, she sought the garden and
the tomb of Publius, carrying garlands which she
gathered from her silver vases, to strew them upon her
brother's grave. The recollection of her brother's af-
fection for her was perpetually in her mind, and she fen-
cied that his shade was pursuing her wherever she turn,
ed — whether she conversed for a moment, or ready
whether she trod the marble halls of the palace, or walk-
ed into the desolate garden to his tomb.

Alethes could not but participate in the affliction of th&
family of Servius Valerius. During the first few weeks
of his slavery, the partiality which Publius manifested
towards Alethes, induced Servius to promote him from
the more laborious employments to an overseer ( Villicus)
of his country residence. Publius, from this time till his
departure for Cortona, had treated him with kindness,
and had bestowed many favours upon him. And in his
letters to his friends, during his absence, he never omit-
ted to enquire about Villicus ; and after Alethes regained
his freedom, Publius manifested a greater anxiety to see

him, than any other of the more immediate fiunily of Ser-
vius Valerius, s-^f.-'^w^si.-w* •*s-,-mv> „v4:-^- .-i ■*^^i^/..^i^t JJV•■^^rM.,

* In his conversation upon the death of Publius, Alethes
alluded to that event with sorrowful regret ; and spoke
with tenderness in admiration of his departed friend.

ALETHES, OR

Perhaps there is no period in the history of the human
feelings, when the heart is more easily affected, or dis-
posed to yield itself up to the sympathy of another, to the
influence of compassion for its sorrow, than when afHict-
ed with the loss of a valued treasure, with which it had
assured itself of a full and permanent happiness. It now
listens to the voice of friendship with sincerity and eager-
ness ; and acquires a new affection for the monitor, who
brings healing balm and words of consolation for its
wounds and its sorrows. And it is a blessing to those,
which only they can fully appreciate, who have drunken
at the fountain of consolation, that the sublime truths, the
glories of the christian religion, should be unfolded to the
mourner who has no hope beyond the grave, and no con-
ception of an immortal and eternal existence. But the
bereaved heart, now convinced that, after a few years, it
shall be united to the object in which its affections had
centred, — is instantaneously transported from its despon-
dency to a condition of rational and refined happiness.
For death, even when he visits the children of men in
his mildest forms, is awful, impressing the min^l, at least
for a season, with a conviction of the uncertainty of hu-
man life, and the vanity of our nature. And it seems to
me, that he is almost dead to every tender feeling, who
can witness a fellow creature borne away by his friends
to the cheerless grave, without taking any interest in so
sad a spectacle. But when death crosses the threshold
of our youth, and marks as his prey the object of our
fondest hopes — ^some brother, sister, or friend, whom we
have long and doatingly loved — when we behold that

THE ROMAN EXILE.

loved one withering away in his grasp, and when our
minds are associated with the dreariness and forgetful*
ness, the dissolution and the forever of the grave, — then
rushes the full tide of the soul's deep and passionate feel-
ings back upon our agonizing hearts ; and then it is that
the past scenes of bliss and joy crowd in quick succes*
sion upon our minds ; and better then we know how ten-
derly we loved, and how requisite that loved one was to
our happiness. We murmur like the mateless dove for
the loss of one so precious, for a blank is created in our
existence, which, we almost persuade ourselves, time can
scarcely fill up. .^ .- ;.v.?.f,y' ^v" ^^v • ■■>-)

>^And who can say that it is not painful to die— to bid
an everlasting :&rewell to the friends of our childhood —
to every endeared association, and ail that is fair and love-
ly of earth? I know that there are those, who can meet
death without a fear, or a wish to survive, perhaps, the
last companion of their mortal pilgrimage ; but I speak
of those whose happiness is wholly of the world, and
who have not looked forth to the " glory to be revealed."
For my part, I am not afraid to die. I have looked upon
death as the door, by which we shall enter into a more
glorious state of existence. I have always loved to lin-
ger about the graves, not only of my youthful friends, but
also about those of strangers; and by this, I have made
myself familiar with the desolations of the King of Ter-
rors, and have realized, as it were, that however loved,
or however distinguished our friends are, it will inevita-
bly be their destiny soon to repose beneath the ground,
over which, perhaps, they carelessly tread. Our tears

i'! ■ ■ ;'vs

ALETHES, OR

and our entreaties cannot prevail Although man is the
noblest work of his creator, and is possessed of faculties
to explore the boundless creation with which he is sur-
rounded, and even to scrutinize the ways of the Eternal
Mind, yet 'tis surely his lot to die, to be consigned to the
lonely and relentless grave, the end of all human great-
ness and perfection.

Yet, while we reflect on the fate of mortals, we are
consoled with the most pleasing hopes. We cannot but
anticipate that there is a world where sorrow cannot en-
ter, where detuh cannot approach to separate friend from
friend. As we turn to converse with our hearts, we be-
come acquainted of early affections broken, and bright
hopes forever past away. And shall these ardent capa-
bilities of our finer nature forever vanish like the dream
wMch we recollect but for a moment, and leave no germ
behind, which shall grow up and flourish in inmiortai
beauty ? — Over the darkness of the widowed heart the
gospel of our ever blessed Redeemer has thrown a light,
which dispels the gloom of the grave, and pours a flood
of glory upon the pathway of the soul to everlasting

•bliss. ..^. . ,,■..'/.;■., v^y■ -1 ■ ' ■ -li-. ,-. .,^,;*.vJ,^i';>'S>f&,:i.tAS!iv,>v

Then those who mourn for the departed ones of earth,
may treasure up their memory in their hearts and despair
not. The hour may soon come, when they too, shall
pass away into the land of repose, r '- ? • .^ 4.^^,

The immortal part may, or may not be clothed with
consciousness immediately afler its separation from the
body. Of this, there are various opinions. Milton was
disposed to think the soul, when the body is laid in the

TBE ROMAN BXILE.

I.'

;^ve, endures a rest, or deep^ till the day of its reunion
with its corporeal oature ; but tnost x>f modem chris*
■tiims believe that the soul pats on immortality and etemid
lifi^ and enters into all the employments of a future stats,
as soon as it has passed the bourne of mortal existence.
But this we do know, that even the Sleep of death wiU
be short ; and that whm the sound of the judgmehl
trump fihall burst upon the ears of sleeping milhcms,
tiiey shall arise from their tombs, and mortality shall put
t)n immertality^ and that those who have desired it, shall
seethe glory of the upper world, and meet those whom
they loved on earth, neter more to endure the separaticm
of death.

gradually, in his conversations with Acillia, Alethea
brought her mind to acknowledge, and to believe in the
superiority of Christianity over the influcaiGe of the cere^
monies of the religfionof Rome; and to lift up her prayer
to the throne of the Most High, who givedi us our plea<^
aures,and who, in his infinite wisdiMn, takeththem aWay^
This was a new era in the life of Acillia, from whieh-
she ever after dated the reign of a new and holier reli*"
gion in her heart. Now, the only child of Valerius, she
Avas regarded by her parents almost as an oracle, and as
aprodigy by the domestics, endeared, perhaps, to bothl>y .
the death of her brother, and an extraordinary dispodtion
which she manifested to magnify the happiness of the
slaves, ♦ *^

Servius Valerius was not ignorant of the natuite of
Christianity. He had met with many of its foUowen^
both at home and abroad, and in every grade of society ;

■M'-

ALETHES, OR

and although he was not inclined to a profession of it
himself he acknowledged that it had, at least,, a good in*
fitience upon the more learned of his countrymen*,, and
thobgh he eo'uld not wish that his daughter should es-i
pouse the christian religion, yet he adopted no purpose to
thwart her inclination.

Al^hes now made preparations for an immediate de»
parture from Rome ; and, as he did not contemplate a re-
turn, he wished to visit the remaining public buildings of
the city. — It would be almost an impossible task, even if
we were inti<nately acquainted with every historian both
ancient and modem, who has written upon a sabject so
fraught with interest,^— a description of the city of Rome,
were it really indispensible in the relation of the tale of
these imperfect pages. Rome, in the days of her great-
est splendour, extended her walls about thirteen miles,-—
three or four along the eastern bank of the Tiber, and
proceeding in a circular direction, included the seven
hills,* on which the city is said to have been founded.
Within the circumference of these walls, whose extent
was only about one^urth of that of the walls of Babylon,

* T^ijie ti^ven hills .w«re Palatainis, Capitoliaua, Aventinue, <^unn-r.
alls, Q$eliiV9| Viminalis, and ExquilinuB, the Esquiline hill. The
Jahijcul.mn and the Vaticanus seem not to have been included with*
in the walls of the city.' The former (laniculum) ki a very early
period was built upon, and defended by*a strong fortress ; but the
latter, from an impression that the surrounding air was unhealthy,
was almost^ deserted, till Nero built his circus at the foot of it,
whence it became a fashionable resort in the reign of that celebra-
ted tyrant^ •' i^^? <•; , ::■ U?::;.,/ ;;-• '■ii'-}h:.^-:J*'i:W -

THlfi ROMAN fiXlLB.

were contained that splendoar and power, which eoncni-
luted her the " Jmx orbis Urrarum^ atque arx ommum
^enitum .'"* We are not, then, aiAonished to know why
Rome should be considered as the marvel of the world ;
and why every one who claimed affinity with her in-
terests, whether he journeyed over the wastes of Amhio,
or the burning plain of Africa-^whether he trod the fruit-
ful vales of Italy, or the bleak and barren deserts of Sy-
ria,-^sihould turn to her, and in the enthoeiasm of his
flOul, exclaim "O Roma, domna cordis es ft when we
iearn of her impregnable walls, with their Airty<«evcn
{ponderous gates ; her twelve costly roads— some of which
still remain as on the day when they were finished, after
a period of two thousand years,^-dtVerging from the city
and leading into the remotest parts of the empire, from
the northern shores of Gaul to the southern boundaries
of Egypt, and from the pillars of Hercules (Straits of
•Gibraltar) to the banks of Euphrates and the deserts of
Arabia, — out over the highest mountains, and conducted
over the widest rivers upon bridges, which, ibr their cost-
liness and noble" architecture, have astonished every be-
holder since the days of their builders. When we read
of her towers, her temples, her monuments, her superi>
structures of royalty, her eight hundred and sixty bathe,
many, singly accommodating not less than eighteen hund-
red persons; her immense revenues, her innumerable

* Translation : The light of the universe, and the metropolis of all
nations,
t Translatioii : Rome^ thou art the mistress of my heart 1

,»r "• •

100

ALETHB8, OK

armies, her philosophers, her heroes, her painters, her
sculptors and her poets, we are not at a loss, I say, to
conjecture with what interest the traTeller contemplate
Rome. , r ,*iii ,.,^(^v'^w . -i ■

. She W flourished G}t more than nine hundred years
in every species of affluence, and had already sacrificed
the lirea of a hundred and twenty millions of her sub-
jects to conquer her rival nations, and to n»ke herself
the .metropolis of the world. Babylon and Nineveh had
been but a name in hntory for seven hundred years, and
shortly after their overthrow, passed away the gloi^of
Thebes, and the power of Memphis, to which the early
Qreek and. the Bomaa resorted for knowledge. Cav^
thage, once rich in works of art, and renowned for the ex-
tent of her commerce, had been ruins since the days of
$cipio, her conqueror. Corinth, once, the retreat of phi^
losophers, rhetoricians, orators, painters, poets, and sta-
tuaries ; and Athens, the centre of opulence and the
nurse (Xf the sciences, and all that could distinguish the
intellect of man, and the most celebrated city of her time,
--rhad yielded: to the subjugating pow^ 5f Rome, and now
lived but in name of. their fbrmer splendour and renowns.
But Bome herself was now the great beacon-light of the
world, attracting from her remotest territories the learned,
the curious, and the candidate for &me. Beared upon
her seven immoveable* pillars, and surrounded by her un-
shaken walls, she seemed the eternal abode of power,
gorgeousness, and art— a gigantic temple, to which all
nations thronged to adore bs greatness !
Vie may suppose, then, that Aleth.es, wha was su jo^

I f

THB ROMAN EXILE.

101

ijfi^

Viorly educated, and who could fully appreciate the mag-
nificent works that every where met his notice, did not
iook upon them with a careless eye, although his heart
forb^e him to pay that adoration to them, which the
thousands hourly bestowed by whom they were sur-
rounded. Accordingly, we find him on a morning pre-
ceding his departure by a few days, proceeding towards
the triumphal Arch of Titus, through which the captive
sons of Judea were led, after having seen their beloved
city, Jerusalem, burned to ashes and its walls toJtally de-
molished by the Romans. This magnificent structure
was situated between the Palatine and Capitoline hills,
in the Via Sacra, or sacred street, as the traveller enter-
ed the city by the triumphal bridge and passed along by
the Pantheon. The first objects that Avould attract his a:t-
tention, were the temple of Antoninus Pius, the foster-fii-
ther of Anrelius, on one side of the way, and on the other,
that celebrated temple of Peace, which was not onCe
opened for sacrifice during the last twenty years of the
glorious reim of Pius^ but passing these, he came at
•once to the nu^nificent Arch. It waB a square figure, and
was composed of the finest marble, and ornamented with
a- multitude of figures of exquisite sculpture. On the
left hand of &e gate, was the statue of Titus; and on the
right, that of his father, Vespasian. The whole was
surrounded with columns, bearing inscriptions of memo*
rable events, or illustrative of some particular passage in.
the history of the religon of the empire; and was sur-
mounted ^vith a statue of V ictory.
As Alethes contemplated this proud strueture, Ids

102

ALEtHlS, OH

mind turned to the days when beneath it in triumph th«
remnant of that people were led, to whom alone Jehovah
once revealed his glorious purposes of man's redemption^
He recalled to mind the splendour of their city--4heir
rejection of the preaching of Christ — ^his treading the
Mount of Olives, and looking down upon the devoted
Jerusalem, and exclaiming "O Jerusalem! Jerusalem!
how often would I have gathered thy children together,
even as a hen gathereth her brood under her wings, but
ye would not I Behold, your house is left unto you de-
solate !— ^There shall not be left here one stone upon

another, that shall not be thrown down. There shall

be great tribulation, such as was not since the beginnuig
of the world to this time, no^ nor ever shall be. lAnd
this generation shall not pass away, till all these things
be fulfilled."*

Leaving the Arch of Titus on the right, and passing
along the Via Sacra, the next place Alethes visited, was

* This prophecy of our Saviour is supposed, by many, to (dlude
to the "end of the worlds" but by the phrase " tkUtgeneratioti," he
undoubtedly meant before the passing away of the most of those
who were then living. This prediction was uttered a short time pre>
vlous to our Lord's crucifixion ; he was then thirty-three irears <^
age ; and thirty-seven years afterwards Titus took Jerusalem, after
a siege of eighteen months ; and it is altogether likely that thousands,
who had witness^ the death of our Saviour, witnessed also the de-
struction of their city, in which one milKon and one hundred thou*
sand perished. Ninety-seven thousand were taken captives, some
of whom were sent into Egypt, to work in- the mines, some into the
neighbouring provinces as presents to the governors, for the sport
of the people and the torture of wild beasta ; the rest were taken in
chains to Rome. . ; ;; '^.j .v., >.

THE AOMAN EXILE.

103

Oie ef)r«at amphitheatre of Rome, erected by Titus and
Vespasian, better known by the name of the Coliseum.
Perhaps human invention and the labours of man, never
raised a structure more calculated to absorb the attention,
and yet to charm the beholder, than this noble and im-
perishable edifice ! Here was presented a scene too re-
plete with beauty, sublimity, and tragical realities for the
mind to contemplate without tke profoundest emotions.
Let the reader imagine that he is gazing upon a building
of sufficient dimensions to cover nearly six acres of land,
and capable of containing a hundred thousand spectators,
and towering so above him, that his eye can scarcely
measure its height. What a vision swims before his
astonished mind ! what a conception overwhelms his un-
derstanding !

To realize its grandeur and extensive magnitude fully,
he must enter it and place himself upon the arena. From
this position, he gets a view of its greamess. Its walla
rise up to the height ef one hundred and twenty feet, and
tiers of seats follow each other to the very top, supported
upon colonnades of "every order -of architecture. In the
days of Titus and Aurelius, it was looked upon as the
most stupendous work of the kind that ever the Romans
erected. Its whole circumference was one thousand six
hundred feet

Over one entrance at the focus of the longest diame-
ter of the area, which was six hundred and fifleen feet,
stood Mara the Qod of War, holding on the lefl arm his
extended shield, and in his right hand a drawn spear,—
elevated upon a platform of marble, and supported by pil-

ALETHES, OR

;*. ■

lars, ornamented with the trophies of victory; and at the
•opposite focus, similarly elevated, was Jupiter seated upon
his throne, appearing as the supreme patron andgua^
4ian of the {dace.

the reader may form some idea of the vast labour ex-
pended in the completion of this amphitheatre ; and of
the opulence, extravagance, and vanity of Nero, when
he lis informed that it was erected out of a part only of the
golden house* of Nero, which Vespasian ordered to be
demolished as too sumptuous for a Roman Emperor;
and that thirty thousand captive Jews were employed for
myear in building it,l>esides the best architects and sculp-
tors in the Empire!

During the day on which the Coliseum was first open-
'ed,"it is said by Dio Cassius, that Titus introduced into
the arena nine thousand wild beasts, to combat with the
gladiators, to devour the christians, and many of the
Jews who had laboured in its erection. At intervals the
whole spectators were sprinkled with perfumed water,
issuing from secret tubes in the multitude of figures upon
the walls ; and when nearly the most of those wild ani-
fnals in different combats were destroyed, of a sudden the
whole arena was flood to the depth of twelve or fourteen
feet ! There was always a canal surrounding the arena,

* This palace of Nero's was of such somptoottsness that the com-
pletion but of a part of it cost over four hundred thousand pounds
sterling. In a hall of thishoute which had moveable reUings almost
too dazzling to contemplate, he often entertained his friends by
'suppers, which never cost less than fifteen tho\isand pounds each.^
Catigulas laid out on a supper eighty thousand seven hundred pounds.

TBE ROMAN EXILE.

109

and the inundation had been secretly ejected ta ej^bit a
naval engagement. — ^About thirty-six years after this ex-
hibition, the Emperor Trajan, to celebrate his triumph
over the rebellious I>icians, commanded that the whole im-
mense number of animak which he had collected during^
several months, consisting of lions, tigers, panthers, bears
from Sythia, (Russia), elephants, rhinoceroses, and even
crocodiles and hippopotami from the river Nile, about
eleven thousand in number, — should be ^iy&a. up to the
entertainment of the people. The sports continued for
several weeks, and a thousand gladiators fought, the most
of whom perished in their combats. During these exhi-
bitions the venerable Ignatius was devoured by the liQns^
He was educated by the Apostle John, and by him was
chosen bishop of Antioch.^ J io.i>u 4-1 iSv

After spending some time in the contemplation of this
celebrated amphitheatre, the slaughter'house of hundreds
of the most pious and devoted christians of antiquity,.
Al^hes ascmded the Esquiline hill, and went to the tomb
of Horace. It was situated about a hundred yards east
of the Baths of Titus. At this time, the poems of Ho^
race were the most celebrated of any in the I^tin lan-
guage. In the Temple of ApoUo, built by Augustus, hie
odes were continually sung, his Secular Games acted,,
his Satires spoken, his Epistles read, and his Art of Poe-
try discussed. He was buried beside the grave of his
patron Meecenas, the friend of literary men, and the
counsellor of Au^tus Ciesar; Horace died two years
after Maecenas, and six years before the birth of our Sa-
viour^ His tomb was composed of white marble, ovet

10^

AL£THeS, OK

Vridck was raised a large slab of the same, bearing ta>
rious inscriptions, directed to be placed there by Augus-
tus. At the hfead of the tomb, stood a monument, or
rather a column, surmounted by his statue, bearing in
one hand a lyre, and in the other a branch, indicative of
the poet, for the most ambitious wishes of Horace were
to live in retirement at his villa in the secluded valley of
Ustica, a few miles from Rome, where be might pour
j out the aspirations of his soul beneath his shady elms, and
^s venerable oaks.

The next public edifice worthy of notice, was the Pan-
theon, built by Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa, son-in-law to.
Augustus, during the golden days of Virgil and Horace,
in imitation of the famous F^ntheon of Athens, and de-
dicated to all the deities of the empire. It was of a per-
fectly round %ure, one hundred and fifty feet diameter at
ks base, and one hundred and fifty feet in height. The
inner walls are said to have been formed of solid marblo.
The outer Walls were covered with brass plates; and the
roof lined with immense sheets of silver, and its spacious
compartments Avithin, of the same. Around the walls
were arrayed the statues of the presiding divinities, with
their histories sculptured on the pedestals that supported
them. The gaiO of the Pantheon was a work of extra-
ordinary dimensions, of brass, and had an ascent of
twelve steps to it. And notwithstanding the enormous
height of its walls, it was without a single window ; and
the only aperture through which light'was admitted, was
a space in the top of the roof of twenty-five feet diame-
ter. In the square of the Pantheon stand the pillars of

THE ROMAN EXILE.

Antoninus and Trajan, and still may be seen from any
part of Rome.

After visiting a few other public places, and the tombs
of St. Peter and the Apostle Paul, who Fuffered martyr-
dom upon the same day by command of Nero, Alethes
returned to the palace of Valerius; and within a few
days, having taken an affectionate ferewell of his bene-
&ctor and family, and bestowing a copy of his manu-
script upon Acillia, he commenced his journey to Lydia.

■■VSt

'fim

.k-kfi^^

CHAPTER VIII,

•^^y-xivr'S'W-Jay .H-

i *;>ij*: -iA^iyvr^^c

On a beautiful sunny day in the mcmtfa of October,
about five weeks after his departure from Rome, Alelhes
being at Athens, went in . company with other travellers
with whom he had met, to see the renowned Acropolis
and its neighbouring temples. The Acropolis was to
Athens, what the Capitol was to Rome, a triumphal gaol
to which she led her captives, and an impregnable cita*
del.

From this lofty eminence, adorned with all the subli-
mity, magnificence, and beauty that the architect and
sculptor could achieve, perhaps was realized the most in*
teresting and beautiful prospect which the world is capa-
ble of affording. On the north was the Stoa of Zeno,
surrounded by several minor philosophical porches of a
similar description, the Temple of Theseus, and the Aca-

ALSTBES, OR

i i<

damic Qrove; on the south, the Temple and Theatre of
Bacchus, Temple of Esculapius, and the ancient Mt^
Beam; to the east, were the Temple of Jupiter Olympus
and the Stadium,* and between them flowed the winding
Ilissus; while about three hundred yards west of the
Acropolis, was the celebrated Areiopagus or Hill of
Mars. And within the distuice of thirty miles were
cities «nd fields the most renowned and the most sacred
in^the eyes of the Athenians, whose history the humblest
citixai knew,--and which they could daily look upon by
ascending the heights of the Acropolis. But although
A^ens reposed at their feet with a glory upon her brow,
gathered from the riches of other nations, and composed
by the hands of her own chUdren, yet when they again
beheld the plain of Marathon and the Isle of Salamis,
afbr having looked upon them a hundred times,, their
heaili became touched with the talisman of Nature, the
philosopher's mysterious stone, turning their hearts to
rapture, and their souls to adoration ! For at the distance '/
of t«i miles from' them on the north-east reposed in sa*'
cred silence the veneraUe field of Marathon, where the
Greeks reastablished their independence by a defeat of

* This place of exercise %va8 situftted south oif the river IlissuB^
about two-thirds of a mile from the eastern brow of the citidel, and
was built by Lycurgus of Pentelic marble, in so "splendid a manner,
that the trayeller, like the Queen of Sheba when bdiolding the riches
of Solomon, often exclaimed " the half had not been told 1" It was
one-eighth of a mile long, and vrl^en seen at. a distance is said to
have resembled a white mountain, from the nature of tibe marble^
and its enormous dimensions. ^r^pr-}

THE ROMAN EXILE.

109

the Persians, \^o were more numerous than themselvei
by ten times their number ; and as fer on the south-east,
were the ever sunny bay and Isle of Salamis, where,
thirty-five years after, they gained another victory over
thes ame people, which raised the Athenians from the
banishment into which they were driven by their ene-
mies, and their city from ruins, to greater prosperity than
they had ever before enjoyed. And within view were
also the memorable plains of Platoea and Leuctra, and
the thousand Isles that sparkled like golden pearls at the
feet of Athens, the ancient mistress of the Grecian States.

While Alethes was contemplating this prospect of
land and sea, and the magnificence of the city by which
he was surrounded, he was accosted by an armed ofiicer,
who enquired if he was Alethes, a native of Smyrna, and
son of Sorex? As soon as Alethes had replied in the
afi^rmative, the officer told him he was considered a cri-
minal by the Roman laws, and that he himself was com-
manded by the high priest of Jupiter Olympus to ap-
prehend and take him before the chief magistrate of
Athens. It was in vain that Alethes demanded the cause
of such a proceeding, and assured the officer that he was
a nobleman of Smyrna, and also a citizen of Rome,
created by Aurelius himself, and ratified by his own seal.
The officer could give no explanation, and any resistance
from Alethes would be madness, as he was already sur-
rounded by a strong guard of soldiers.

About three hours after his apprehension, he appeared
at the judgement hall appropriated to the examination of
«uch mattei's as related solely to religion, The magis-

.Ai,

*;ALETHES, OR

trate and priest with a few attendants and soldiers, were
the only persons assemhled. The crime alleged against
Alethes, was, that being disinherited and banished for-
ever from Smyrna, and beyond the confines of the em-
pire, for heresy against the religion of his country, he
had, contrary to law, appeared in the city of Athens. To
this accusation, Alethes replied that he, by the &vour of
Servius Valerius, brother-in-law to Marcus Aurelius An-
toninus, and by the influence which that general com-
manded with the emperor, — had been restored to his
original citizenship of Smyrna, and the patrimony both
of his &ther and of his uncle ; and that he possessed the
documents to these effects, from the Senate of Rome, seal-
ed with the emperor's own hand. '

This was sufficient to cancel all claim they had upon
him, or destroy all power that the government of Athens
could possibly exert against him; and the judge only re-
quired that he might produce the documents, as necessary
to his liberation. He was also informed, that his accu-
ser was a native of Italy, and was immediately arrived
from Rome. But Alethes could recollect no person who
might be acquainted with his circumstances at Rome, un-
less it were a friend of Coninnius, of whom, however,
he had a very limited knowledge. He had met no per-
son at Athens whom he recollected ever to have se«i be-
fore. And he was informed that it was not certain
whether the person who had made the accusation was
in the city or not, as it was not indispensable to his ex-
amination, since it was well known amongst them, that

THB ROMAN EXILE.

Ill

the son of Sorex, Prastor of Smyrna, had been banished
from that city during his life.

Aledhes requested that he might be allowed to repair
to hie lodgings, as none of his servants were present, in
order to produce the satisfaction which the court requir-
ed ; and in accordance to his wish, ho was conducted
thither by a guard. —

But what astonishment and grief overwhehned the mind
of Alethes when he discovered that the case, which con-
tained his documents relative to the restoration of his pos-
sessions at Smyrna, a superior change of robes, and seve-
ral pieces of gold, had been removed from his quarters
wi&outhis knowledge, by his servants; and no person
knew whether they had gone with it ! The master of
the house, Halocrates, told him that his servants came in
after he had left, perhaps an hour, and requested that they
might convey their master's gilded case to him, as he
had so ordered. He, presuming that the article had been
ordered, delivered it to them. This was all he knew of
the matter; and several witnesses were ready to confirm
his statements. ;

Alethes then acquainted Halocrates with what had hap-
pened to him respecting his banishment, his slavery, his
freedom, and the documents which his case contained,
declaring him again a citizen of Smyrna, and an heir to
his father's possessions ; and that some person had made
certidn statements to the chief priest of the city, which
were likely to ruin him, if the documents could not be
recovered. The officer and Alethes, accompanied with
Halocrates, returned to the hall of the magistrate, who, on

112

, fg r

ALETHES, OR

being informed of the misfortune that had happened to
the prisoner, shook his head, and observed that nothing
farther could be done for him at Athens; and that he must
be immediately sent to Smyrna to be submitted to the
judgment of the governor, as from that city he was ban-
ished.— ''I appeal to the Senate of Rome/' said Alethes.
" We have no proof that you have seen Rome of late; and
as you were banished by the governor of Lydia, we must
convey you thither, and it will be at his pleasure to sub-
mit you to the jurisdiction of the city of Rome."

Alethes knew well that if he entered the city of Smyr-
na, without the documents from the Roman Senate, there
Xvould be very little hope of any appeal from so vicious a
mind as that of the governor of Lydia ; and already be-
gan to dread what a few days to come, might reveal. For
a moment he felt an irresistible feeling of agony ; but it
was momentary only. He was naturally of an ardent
temperament, but of a melancholy disposition ; yet the
confidence he had in God, and the proofe of his kindness,
were always prominent inducements to still hope in his
mercy, on any emergency bearing a forboding aspect.-—
He quickly recovered his spirits, and waited his dismis-
sion from the court. The aged priest of Jupiter, fix-
ing his eyes steadfastly, yet scornfully, upon Alethes,
gravely observed, " thus shall be the fete of those, who
dare reject the worship of Jupiter, the supreme deity of
the world I" — and the magistrate commanding the officer
to take him into custody till the following day, the
court was broken up.

Alethes was. not kept in close confinement, but cont^-

TViE KOMAN EXILE.

113

onit>-

tiued ih a private house tmdelr a guard of two or three sol-
diers. — He spent much of the night in prayer and com-
munion with his Saviour ; and in the morning as soon as
convenient, he sent for Halocrates, for he feh persuaded
•that a plot was making to take his life. He wished him
and those who saw his servants remove his case, to ap-
pear at his examination ; and also to bring his remaining
Ihingfs, as th6y might be of service to him.

Alethes was again summoned for trial, but in a mote
august assembly. In addition to the high priest of Jupi-
ter Ol3rmpus, and a magistrate of the court of Metichou,
he was conducted into the presence of the governor of
Attica, in the splendid court of Proedroi. As soon as
Alethes entered, the high priest, by request, proceeded to
state to the assembly the object of their meeting, and that
the prisoner was considered a criminal, for having broken
the laws of the empire, in appearing within their jurisdic-
tion after his banishment. The governor then asked
Alethes if he could bring forth reasons why he had ap-
peared at Athens. Alethes, after repeating the same rea-
sons as upon the day previous, assured the governor that
he had been deprived of his documents by the perfidy of
his servants, although in so unaccountable a manner ; and
observed that Halocrates, with whom he had lodged, was
ready to attest the fact. Halocrates came forward, and
stated that upon the arrival of Alethes at his house, he
understood from his servants, and also from a Pelopon-
nesian who had made the same voyage, that he had
come from Rome, having embarked in his ship at Syra-
■cuse, in Sicily — that the ship departed four days ago hr

.> i%:

114

' ALETHES, OR

Crete ; but that during the time she remained in the
harbour, the Peloponnesian frequently came to see Ale<
thes, and be had heard them discuss the incidents of their
voyage, which gave him to understand that he vna a
nobleman from Rome, although he had not heard him
say so till yesterday.

The statement of Alethes, that he was by the Roman
Senate restored to rank and former affluence was insufH*
cient with the governor, as he possessed no documents to
that eifect ; and that of Halocrates was probable, but was
wanting in proof that Alethes had really come from Rome
in the character of a nobleman. His things, consisting of
' costly clothes, a sword mounted with gold, valuable
books and pictures, two beautiful statues, a quantity of
gold and silver; and a present of a suit of armour, were
all exhibited. But the governor argued that these things,
though evidently belonging to some person of rank, could
not establish the assertion that he was pardoned by the
Roman Senate; and as he had been banished from Smyr-
na, and it having been his design to go to that city, he
concluded to send him thither accompanied with a centu-
rion and guard. Against this Alethes remonstrated, and
asserted his privilege as a nobleman and a Roman ; and
the injustice of committing him to the authority of Ly-
dia, since he had been deprived at Athens of those va-
luable articles, which would insure him the favour of any
magistrate in any part of the Roman empire. He ap-
pealed to the jurisdiction of Rome ; or he was willing to
remain a prisoner at Athens till the proceedings of the

THE ROMAN EXILE.

115

Roman Senate was published at Smyrna, or the testi-
mony of Aurelius could be produced, if possible.

Accordingly, Thymoetes, the governor of Attica, after
conferring with the priest of Jupiter and the subordinate
magistrate, determined that Alethes should remain at
Athens for two months, a time deemed sufficient to asce^
tain the mind of the Roman Senate in reference to his
fortune. And a ship bearing documents from Thymcetes
to the emperor of Rome in regard to Alethes, and other
matters of importance, was forthwith dispatched. And
Alethes embraced this opportunity to convey a letter to
Servius Valerius, and another to Aurelius himself; in
which he detailed his apprehension by the government
of Athens, every jcircumstance of his trial, and his pre-
sent critical situation.

Week after week passed away ; and finally the time
expired without the arrival of any orders from Rome.
A report of the wreck of the ship upcm the western
coast of Epirus had reached Athens about five weeks af-
ter her departure ; but no farther news of her was receiv-
ed. ThymoQtes, having been twice solicited by the go-
vernor of Lydia, who had heard of the apprehension of
Alethes, to relinquish him to his authority, now deter-
mined to send him to Smyrna. During the above period,
however, Alethes made every enquiry about his servants,
offered a very liberal reward for their capture, and had
sent a trusty friend to Smyrna for information concerning
them ; but no trace of them could be discovered.

Conveyance was now ready to transport him over the
.^gean Sea ; and attended by a guard of soldiers, he was

116 '

ALETHES, OR

conducted to the harbour for embarkation. But at the
moment lie was about to step on board the galley, he was
accosted by two persons habited as Roman noblemen.
As they spoke he did not recognize them; but on ex-
amining their features more attentively he rushed forward
to salute them, exclaiming " Vos Deus misit /" * and fainted
in their arms. They were Maximin and Cardianus, tlio
duintillian brothers, who, returning from Ephesus, had
just arrived at Athens. They had now been absent from
Rome about four months; and being informed on their re-
turn that Alethes was in the city, and also what had hap-
pened to him, the loss of his valuable documents, they re-
solved to render him, if possible, timely assistance ; and
had changed their course towards ^Ithens, solely for that
purpose. They had been informed by Publius of the birth
and fortune of Alethes ; and consequently, felt no little in-
terest in his wel&re.

And furthermore, being about to leave Ephesus, they
were apprised by their servants than an African slave of
Servius Valerius was in the city, and desired to return to
Rome; and after an equivocal explanation from him, 9'
to the manner in which became to Lj lia, the Cluintillipn
brothers consented to receive him on board their galley ;
and by him they were made acquainted with the misfor-
tunes of Alethes.

The whoi^ niystery concerning the loss of the proper-
ty of Aletiies, , is now imfolded. Early in the day on

* God haa sent you I

*-'<>«..

THE ROMAN EXILE.

117

which he went to the Acropolis, the African slave, who
was defornpicl, vai met in the street by Clodius Corrin-
nius, w^ ' I' or '0 recognized him; and who, after asccr-
tain' If' ibnt Al thes was at Athens, gave him a piece of
*;^o\d^ %•■' requested to see the remaining servant, but
^v >hout hitj master's knowledge, that he might also be-
stow a similar reward upon him. In a short time the
two servants appeared. From them Corrinnius heard of
the success of Alethes at Rome; and that a gilded case
contained the indispensable documents for the recovery of
his possessions at Smyrna. Corrinnius was now certain
of the execution of a meditated revenge upon him, who,
he supposed, had been a principal cause of his disgrace.
He found no difficulty in bribing the servants ; and by a
promise of a large sum of money, their freedom, and a
conveyance with him to Lydia, he induced them to rob
their master of the articles already mentioned. This
being effected, Corrinnius made no delay in remitting in-
formation to the priest of Jupiter, that such a personage
as Alethes, son of Sorex, who had been banished from
Smyrna, for a rejection of their religion, Avas at that time
at Athens. He described him minutely as possible, and
hither he had gone, as informed by the servants. Af-
ter conveying the intelligence, Corrinnius immediately
left the city, and took the great road through Bootia to
Demetrias, the chief town of Magnesia, whence he sailed
for Smyrna. Arriving in this city, he dismissed the ser-
vants of Alethes without the promised reward ; and the
African, dreading that his master might recover him, or
impressed with a sense of his own wickedness, wandere<)

-X

118

ALETHES, OR

to Ephesus, where he chenced to meet the servants of
Maximin and Cardianus,

The Quintillian brothers lost no time in communica-
ting to ThymoBtes their knowledge of Aiethes, and the
manner by which he was deprived of his documents.
The African slave was brought forward, and proved by
Halocrates to be one of those, who had taken the afore-
said articles from his house. It was now rendered ob-
vious to the governor that Aiethes had been restored
from banishmtent, and had possessed the necessary articles
to recover the property at Smyrna, to which he was a
lawful heir ; and ThyrooBtes, by way of a manifesto^ de-
sired that the treacherous African should be publicly ex- '
ecuted ; but his master, who was ever ready to forgive, in^
terceded and obtained his pardon; and thei slave declar-
ing a future fidelity, was again admitted into his ser«
vice. . ■ .

Aiethes was now set at liberty ; but chose to wait at
Athens until orders came from Rome. And next day
about noon, an ambassador arrived in the city, with a
message to the governor, the purport of which, was, to
liberate Aiethes without delay, and to publish his fortune
throughout Greece. lie bore also an express for Smyr-
na, and documents the same in efiect as those of which
Aiethes had been deprived.

After tarrying a few days longer at Athens, he pro.
ceeded to Smyrna in company with the Qjuintillian
brothers, who had deferred their voyage to Rome, as the
former had determined to dispose of his estates and return
with them to Italy. Here he met with no opposition^

' THE ROMAN EXILE.

119

The ambassador on arriving, immediately delivered his
message to the governor of Lydia. On the same day
the chief magistrates were called together in the forum,
who, after a short conference, proclaimed that Alethes,
the son of Sorex, was recalled from banishment, and
would inherit the estates of his father and uncle ; and the
same was published throughout the province. Mean*
while, however, the assembled council adopted measures
to recover the possessions of Alethes. The whole had
been sold after the death of Superius, and their amount
added to the public revenue. Alethes proposed to re-
ceive the value of the estate \ rather than disturb those
who possessed them for several years. For the proper-
ty of his uncle, he obtained a hundred and fifty thousand
pounds; and for his father's nine hundred thousand.*
The former he bestowed as a legacy upon the church at
Smyrna, the interest of which was to be expended to al-
leviate the necessities of the indigent christians. The
remainder of his fortune, he conveyed to Rome. He
had now accomplished his business, but desired to tarry

* I adduce the following examples to show the immense riches of
the Romans : —

Pallae, who had been a slave to Claudius, lived to possess an
estate worth two millions, four hundred and twenty two thousand
pounds. — (Cicero). Lentulus, the soothsayer, became worth three
millions, two hundred and twenty nine thousand pounds. — ( Taci-
tus). LucuUus sold the beautiful fishes from his pond for the sum
of thirty two thousand, two hundred and ninety pounds. — {Pliny),
Cicero says that he himself purchased a citron-table for eight hun-
dred pounds, and the house of Crassus for twenty eight thousand,

120

ALETHES, OR

a few days longer that he might become more acquaint'
ed with the prosperity of Christianity, and review the
scenes and haunts of earlier life, with which he was once
£imiliar.

Only those, who have for a long time been absent from
the land of their nativity, and who have returned to gaze
with rapture, yet with sadness, upon the places trodden
by the feet of early youth, can fully appreciate the inter-
est with which Alethes contemplated the city of his
childhood. — I once heard of a person who emigrated to
America when a boy of sixteen ; and who, after a period
of fifty years, during which he had reared a family, and
had lost every member of it, — returned to his native
country to look again upon the scenes of his early child-
hood, and to lay himself down to rest beside the graves
of his ancestors. He found his relatives dead ; his friends
changed beyond his knowledge; and those, who once
knew him, now forgetful even of his name. The aspect
of his native village itself was altered, and its former ge-
neration had passed away, and another had succeeded.

two hundred and fifty pounds. The emperor Augustus possessed
private funds to the amount of thirty- two millions, two hundred and
twenty nine thousand pounds. — (Suetonius). Tiberius, his succes-
sor, filled the public coffers with nearly the sum of twenty-two mil-
lions, which Caligula spent in less than one year, — who, says Sue-
tonius, once swallowed a pearl, valued at eight thousand pounds.
He often spent, says Seneca, the enormous sum of eighty thousand,
seven himdred pounds upon a single supper. The celebrated Cleo-
patra expended the same amount upon part of a meal ; but hers was
the value of a pearl, which, being dissolved in vinegar, she swal-
lowed at a feast with Mark Antony!

THE ROMAN EXILE.

121

Without the village upon the banks of the Clyde, there
was an ancient castle, which had withstood the desolating
hand of time for five hundred years, and which he had
often visited when a boy. This, and the majestic river
laving its verdant banks, and the mountains on the north,
appeared to the lonely pilgrim the only objects which
had remained unchanged since the days of his youth.
In the early period of our lives, we make friends of those
of the same age with ourselves, and we form our ideas of
the world from the experience we derive from their so*
ciety ; and when we arrive at manhood, we learn to dis-
trust ourselves, and in a greater or less degree, those in
whom we have confided, and seek integrity and wisdom
in the society of those who are older than ourselves ;
and when age has enfeebled our steps, and the current of
youthful feeling has become languid, we turn to the con-
verse of the young and the joyous. And thus the super-
annuated pilgrim yearned for the scenes of his youth, and
the society of those who could remind him of childhood's
days. He purchased a cottage near the castle, and pas-
sed the remainder of his life in retirement, seeking
only to converse with the young and the inq uisitive, who
occasionally visited his dwelling.

Thus with a deep and holy remembrance did Alethea
contemplate the objects and scenes associated with the
days, when a parent's eye and arm guided his inexpe-
rienced Avays. He had then no pleasures but his parents
were interested in them, and no wishes but they gratified.
But death had deprived him of these; and on himself
what a change the hand of time had wrought during the

122

ALETHES, OR

last seven years! He was then young, and light in
heart as the bounding roe ; but now the ardour of his
youth was gone, and he was a grave, majestic, and a
thoughtful man. v: / >' • - • * ■:

Every, object on which he gazed was identified with
some peculiair sensation. If he looked upon the noble
forum, the form of his fether presented itself before him,
and his voice fell in eloquent strains upon his ear. If he
turned his eyes towards the prison, the cruelty of his
uncle arose to his mind, and he thought of the inner dun*
geon in which he was incarcerated, with its darkness and
its damp walls, the criminal's fetters, and the massy
chains which loaded his limbs. And on this mistaken
treatment he cast no bitter reflections, but forgave his
cruelty, and lamented that he died without a conviction
of the error of his conduct. Time may throw his ob-
livious shadows over the evil deeds which men commit,
but no power can recall them from the past. And men
act not in proportion to the early faculties with which na-
ture has endowed them, but from the strength of the cur-
rent of circumstances, which have since surrounded them.
One person becomes accustomed to a certain object till he
learns to admire it ; and another, from no acquaintance,
indulges a hatred tov/ards it. One reveres a peculiar re-
ligion ; and another of equal understanding, discards all
fellowship with it. One loves a certain country, yet
another abhors it. And hence arise the follies and er-
rors of mankind, their disposition to combat, and to de-
stroy each other's happiness — not from an intellectual,
but a casual education. Domestic government and per-

THE ROMAN EXILE.

123

nicious society have formed the characters of those, who

have

"Played such fantastic tricks before high heaven, :^, ■ '
As made the angela weep !"

And the only remedy for the prejudices and evil propen-
sities of mankind, is education. Cultivate the mind ! ft
is more exalted, and a thousand times more valuable, than
the material and infinite creations of the Almighty.
Teach the youth that he is a member of an innumerablo
family, whose master and head is the Deity himself, " the
father of us all !" Subdue the evil, and bring into action
the benevolent and social faculties. — A child, that at six
years of age manifests an irritable disposition, is suffi-
ciently old to be taught its folly, {without corporeal pu-
nishment) and to understand when told, that it is indulging
a propensity, which must, if exercised, affect its future
happiness.

And although Alethes, even in the midst of his native
city, felt like an isolated being, and sorrowful as he
thought of his former misfortunes, yet an inexpressible
consolation sustained him, as he reviewed the past, and
saw the goodness and providence of God in all his his-
tory. He had twice been delivered from the machina-
tions of Clodius Corrinnius. His uncle had persecuted
him for his profession of Christianity, and now his riches
were appropriated to sustain those whom he had most ab-
horred.* And thus doth God bring good out of evil. It

* Edward Gibbon accumulated an inmense fortune by the sale of
his celebrated "History of the Decline and Pall of the Roman Em-
pire," "which," says an eminent biographer, "has justly raised him

124

ALETHES, OR

cannot be otherwise, than that He doth also govern it,

who has created this spacious universe, with the infinite

number of starry worlds above it, with almost infinite

spaces between each. It may indeed seem strange, and

even absurd to us, that we should be noticed by One so

infinite and awful in all his attributes, in such a manner

as to call forth his compassion and assistance ; and yet

we cannot doubt it upon a little observation ; for, although

we are endowed with capabilities to shun much evil that

besets our path, yet no less than the guidance of God

could deliver us from unforeseen and perilous situations.

As a king protects his subjects, so doth the Almighty the

perishable creatures whom he hath made.

"I cannot go
Where universal Love smiles not around
Sustaining all your orbs, and all their suns ;
From seeming evil still educing good,
And better thence again, and better stiUi
Jn infinite progression !"

CHAPTER IX.

Towards spring, the Gluintillian brothers and Alethee
returned to Rome ; and by the family of Servius Vale-

a great number of opponents for his rejection of Christianity." This
property at his decease, he bequeathed to a gentlemen who had mar-
ried his only child. A few years after the death of Gibbon, his son-
in-law embraced Christianity, and expended the greater part of the
fortune in the dissemination of its doctrines.

THE ROMAN EXILE.

125

ethee
Vale-

This
d mar-
is son-
of the

Tius, the latter was received with every demonstration of
«st€em. Nothing farther of importance transpired in his
history, except a. manifestation of reciprocal affection be-
tween himself and Acillia, which had inadvertently
■sprung up, and was nourished by each without being be-
fore revealed.

Sorex was lineally descended from the Augustan fa-
mily ; and consequently in his day, claimed the highest
privileges of the nobility. It was not, therefore, below
the. dignity of a Roman general, intimately related to the
emperor himself, to admit into his family a person of the
rank of Alethes with a fortune of nine hundred thousand
pounds.

Alethes had now resolved upon prosecuting his favou-
rite study, oratory. There was now no objection in the
way, as he was removed from a province where designs
were constantly invented to deprive him of his life. He
had already, at different intervals, made himself exten-
sively acquainted with the art. The laws of Rome were
indispensable; and to master these, he applied himself
with unremitted ardour. His object in the practice of
oratory, was not an increase to his wealth. He consider-
ed himself a citizen of the great metropolis of the
world, and that one of his rank, occupying a conspicuous
station, might effect much for the advancement of the re*
ligion of Christ.

But he had scarcely recommenced his studies, before
he was compelled to relinquish them. — The giant of bat-
tle, with blood-red tresses stained bytheslaughter of man-
kind, with eyes glaring fire and scorching the fair and

126

ALETHES, OR

beautiful visions of earth ; in his hand the thunderbolts of
death, — was striding over the land, destroying fruitful
countries, and turning into ruins flourishing cities and
villages. Every breeze that kissed the hills of Rome,
brought the clamours of war from the countries of Ger-
many.

The Cluadi, a numerous tribe inhabiting the northern
branches of the Danube, and the sources of the Albis,
had revolted from Roman jurisdiction, massacred the
Italian soldiers stationed on their borders, slain the Ro-
man officers over their villages, and had once more pro-
claimed themselves an independent people. They had
confederated with their neighbours, the Boii and the
Jazyges; and were preparing to invade Italy. The
news of the revolt reached Rome in a few days, and the
most active preparations were made without delay, to
march against them. Gaul had been totally subdued by
the unconquerable Csesar ; and the western and southern
nations of Germimy, intimidated by his mighty forces,
by his conquests, and by the devastations that everywhere
marked their footsteps, had yielded without resistance to
the sceptre of Rome ; and had remained under her go-
ve'nment more than two hundred years. About five
years before the present date, and while Alethes was in
banishment, occurred the war with the Marcomanni,
which called into operation all the thunders of the Ro-
man legions; and during this calamity, which excited
the fear of the Roman people for the safety of the empire,
the Cluadi seized upon the opportunity to revolt. Per-
haps no war since the conquests of Gaul had so much

THE ROMAN EXILE.

127

go-
five

alarmed the Romans. The public treasury was exhaust-
ed, pestilence was depopulating their capitals ; prophets
were announcing the dissolution of the world ; and fa*
mine and wretchedness stalked together over the land.

But Rome conquered and revived ; and now her war-
riors were eager to engage in the enterprise against the
Gluadi. The spirit of military glory, partially extin-
guished by a few years' peace, was rekindled in their
souls with its ancient ardour ; and they thought of no<
thing but the subjugation of their enemies.

The formidable armies sustained at immense expense
during the war, were now disbanded; and thirty legions
only remained. Three were stationed in Britain, sixteen
on the Rhine and the Danube, eight on the Euphrates
and in Syria, one in Spain and two in Africa. The city
cohorts and the prsetorian guards, however, were in exis-
tence ; and from part of these in Italy, the legions on the
Danube, and volunteers at Rome, the emperor marched
into Germany himself at the head of an army consisting
of nine hundred and fifty thousand men* — Servius Vale-
rius engaged in this expedition. From his persuasion,
and as several hundred christians at Rome had been
compelled to take up arms, Alethes was induced to join
them.

Arriving in the country of the enemy, the Roman
army encamped on the northern bank of the Danube, op-

•"Several of the northern nations having conspired against Rome,
the emperor marched against them vsrith 950,000 men."— Book of
Martyrs.

, k

128

ALETHES, OR

posite the to^vn of Vindobona,t till they should ascertam
their position ; and if possible their probable force. The
united rebel nations, hearing of the approach of the Ro*
man legions, who, they supposed, had not yet left Italy,
retired among the mountains, now called Carpathian.
Aurelius led forward his army to their place of rendez-
vous, and occupied a spacious valley on the southern side
of the mountains, at the source of the river Tibiscus,
(now Teysc), near the place where now stands the town
of Hradeck. There he encamped his forces, and in the
short space of twenty-four hours, had erected fortifications,
and were ready for battle.

' An immense area in the form of a square, composed
the grounds of encampment ; and the whole was ur-
Tounded by a rampait twelve feet high, formed of trees
and earth, and enclosed by a ditch twelve feet broad and
nine deep. The utm.ost regularity ^vas regarded in the
disposal of the grounds, and in the arrangement of the
soldiers. Tents, constructed of leather and skins and
fastened to the ground by ropes, were spread over the
whole sur&ce in broad rows resembling streets ; and in
the centre was the pavilion of Aurelius, decorated in a
splendid manner with cloth embroidered with flowers,
figures, animals, and historical sketches, all executed in
silver and gold ; and surrounding this, were the tents of

t Six years after this period, (174) Aurelius passed a winter's cam-
paign in Germany, and died at this town in March following. The
city of Vienna, capital of Austria, is now built upon the site which
the ancient Yindobona occupied.

THE ROMAN EXILE.

129

and

the

and

the

ndin

in a

iwers,

edin

ntsof

his retinue, the tents of the generals, of the prsefects, of
the tribunes, and of the qusestor. At the distance of
several hundred yards from the emperor's pavilion, sepa-
rated by a broad open space, were the forum, where the
common meetings assembled, and articles for the army
were distributed; and the court of the tribunes, where the
emperor administered justice, where the altars of the
gods were placed, and where all the sentences for punish-
ments were executed. , •<:

Each legion was quartered separately, and its cavalry
were disposed at difiercnt places of the encampment.
The captains and inferior officers remained with their
companies ; and each standard pointed out the head of its
legion. The whole number of the christians composed
only a cohort, amounting to five hundred and fifty-five,
placed in the legion which Servius Valerius command-
ed ; and were given by his request to the charge of Ale-
thes, who took up his abode in the tent of that general.*

Through the centre of the camp, at right angles cross-
ed two broad streets, which terminated at each side of the
rampart, at a gate, making four in number. About the
fortifications and the gates, were strong guards constantly
watching, which were relieved day and night at every
three hours.

The whole army \vas divided into ninety legions, each
composed of nearly eleven thousand men, including seve«
ral light armed troops, necessary attendants for baggage

*" Young noblemen, under the general's particular care, were
said to abide in his tent."— /foue.

130

ALETHSS, OR

and other indispensable duties. The principal force of a
legion was embodied in its infantry, which was divided
into ten cohorts and fifty companies; and the former
were commanded by tribunes or proefects, and the latter
by centurions. The first cohort bore forward the stan-
dard, and exceeded the common cohorts by its selected
veterans, and being twice their number. Beside these,
there was a body of cavalry attached to each legion, of
seven hundred and twenty-six men ; and their arms were,
a helmet, a shield, a coat of mail, boots, a javelin, and ti
long broadsword. The arms of the infantry consisted of
a helmet with a lofty crest, a breast plate, greaves for the
legs, and a concave buckler for the left arm of an oval
figure, which was four feet long, and two and a half wide;
a short two-edged sword, and a spear six feet in length,
terminated by a triangular point of steel eighteen inches
long.

During the first night of the encampment of the army,
the most extraordinary precautions were adopted. The
tops of the rampart were thronged with sentinels ; and
large engines were erected near them for throwing stones
and heavy darts, ready to be discharged at the approach
of the enemy.

That night ! who can describe the feelings with which
the vast muhitude of Romans contemplated its splendour
and presaging omens, for in the stars, the bravest and the
wisest sought to read their fortune or their fate ! Nearly
a million of beings were assembled in the bosom of a
valley, of a circumference of more than ten miles, sur-
rounded by mountains, whose heads were covered with

'iHE ROMAN EXILE.

131

hich
idour
dthe
early
of a

SUT-

with

eternal snows and reared to the stars, as if to converse
with Him, who held in his hand the destinies of those
reposing at their foet I

To add to the gorgcousness of the scene, the moon
shone with uncommon brilliancy, and the glowing con-
stellations followed each other up the east in their paths
of infinite space ! Think you, they contemplated their
greatness, their imperishability, the inconceivable know-
ledge involved in their natures 1 But at least, they gazed
upon, and conversed with them as oracles predicting the
fortunes of men, the fate of nations, the wane and the dis-
solution of kingdoms and of empires. — And on that night,
the father's heart was holding communion with his dis»
tant homo ; the husband thought of his wife, and many
of the dear friends they might see no more. But the
hope of conquest animated their spirits, and they turned
to the approaching contest with their enemies, with ardent
anticipations.

Spies had brought news on the first evening that the
fpe were on the opposite side of a chain of mountains,
and were collecting theit forces. The night passed away,
however, without any indication of their approach. But
ou the following morning as the sunlight broke upon the
earth, as far as the eye could penetrate from the north to
the south, and from the east to the west, the whole coun-
try seemed a mass of living men. On the outskirts of
the valley, and on the mountains they took up their abode
for several days, without offering battle to the Romans.
Aurelius did not now deem it expedient to attack them.
To his inconceivable astonishment, they already appeared

132

ALETHES; Oil

twice . as numerous as his own army ; and from their
movements, he supposed that they were expecting addi*
tional forces. He judged it the most prudent, therefore,
to maintain his fortifications, lest withdrawing his legions,
an enemy might arise from ambush and take possession of
them. The ground which the Roman army commanded,
was perfectly well known to most of the generals ; and they
had occupied it without sending forth pioneers to explore
its facilities. It was a country abounding with springs,
and was well watered by several small streams. The
northern branch of the Tibiscus took its rise two or thre«
leagues distant to the west ; and flowing east, it passed
within a furlong of their quarters. This was the only
stn^am that could supply them with water, as the others
were exhausted through an excessive drought. No rain
had fallen for a long time, and the weather was exceeding
hot and oppressive. The grass and herbs were almost
entirely withered; and with the utmost difficulty the
horses and other animals existed.

The Romans had remained within their encampments
for three or four days, the enemy keeping aloof and com-
manding the surrounding hills. The object of the rebel
nations in refusing battle, now appeared to the Romans
in all its fearful character. — On a sudden the latter found
themselves deprived of their accustomed resort to water !
No resource remained! The enemy had cut off the
stream which watered the valley, by connecting it to the
west, with the source of a small river, uniting with
the Danube at the village of Gran, about thirty miles
north-west of Buda.

»t

THE ROMAN EXILE.

133

The path of ingress of the Roman army into the val<
ley, lay to the south ; and it was discovered that the eoe*
my had made intrenchments across the whole width of
the pass, rendering a retreat utterly impossible. The
only alternative now remaining to Aurelius, was to with-
draw his forces into a narrow, but very extensive valley
to the north, lying between two chains of parallel moun-
tains. Were his army in that situation, be might not
hesitate to attack the enemy, as he could extend his forces
along the bed of the valley, and form them into order to
combat with the greatest advantage. An egress could
be effected by means of a rocky defile between the two
places ; and was slightly guarded, being deemed of little
consequence.

Aurelius assembled his generals, and consulted on the
measures to be adopted. The result was, that the army
should make immediate preparations for evacuating their
encampments, and regaining the distant valley. Every
order was now executed with the utmost dispatch ; and
within an hour and a half from the formation of the pro-
ject, the whole army was in motion, and had reached the
pass about three miles distant Here they met with some
opposition, but insufficient to retard their progress.—
They were marshalled in a solid column ; and coming in
contact with three or four hundred guards only at the
pass, they slaughtered them almost instantaneously, with-
out a single escape.

By these manoeuvres, Aurelius acquired the greatest
advantage over his enemies, as he could extend his
legions throughout the whole length of the valley, if

134

-i<t»i

ALETHES, OR

necessary, which was not less than thirty miles long",
iVcmi a mile to one and a half wide, of a rocky bed, and
aimost destitute of vegetation.

^ Every motion of the Roman army tended to facilitate
their success, so perfect was thrir discipline and the skill
of the generals. An immense line was drawn up through
the valley, and at once disposed in the order of battle.
Meanwhile, the enemy had pursued, and gained the same
ground; but instead of forming themselves in a single
line and offering battle as the Romans expected, they
divided into two wings and followed the course of the
mountains, until they again almost surrounded their ene-
mies. The sun had long since passed the meridian, and
the two hostile armies still refused an onset. The heat
was now almost insupportable. Not a cloud shaded the
burning sun, nor even a breeze cooled the sultry air.
The Romans were &mishing for want of water, not
laving had any for upwards of four days, and the only
means by which they had preserved their livfes, were de-
rived from the nourishment of wheat and fruits. Nearly
all their horses and other animals had either died for
want of food and water, or were killed by the army to
obtain their blood. The Romans themselves were now
dismayed, and ready to take away their own lives. This
they would rather do, than yield themselves up to their
enemies, for passing into their power, they knew a Ro-
man would receive no quarters. They saw their foes
aimost twice as numerous as themselves, brave, robust, and
warlike ; yet unwilling to contend with their femishing
army. — Such a situation was miserablebeyond description.

THE ROAUN EXILE.

135

A truce was now dispatched from Aurelius to the ene-
my with proposals of capitulation. The ambassador re-
turned with a message, the purport of which was, that the
chief of the Cluadi, being conunander of the field, wished
the emperor of Rome to be told, as the Germans con^-
menced the war, it was at their opticm to discontinue or
prolong the campaign; that his forces numbered one.
million three hundred thousand, and that he possessed
provisions sufficient to feed them in their present situation
three months ; and had access to innumerable fountains
of water. Aurelius received this message with his usual
fortitude, and iinmediately ordered an assembly of the ge-
nerals and inferior commanders, who collected by the
sound of a trumpet blown throughout each legion. A
consultation now took place. . -: s %. > , tv. ar"

, Having consulted the auspices, and summouiiig up
the opinions of those who were the most renowned in
war, the result was, that an attack upon their enemies
should be deferred until the following day, when the
army would have the advantage of the morning air, and
be less &tigued.

But before the assembly had adjourned, one of the op-
posite army was conducted to the door of the court-room,
who, the emperor was informed, had a message of im-
portance. He was admitted, but not without being pre-
viously searched, however, wh^her he concealed about
his person, any deadly weapons. He informed the em-
peror that he was a native of a town in Italy, but had re-
sided for several years among the Q,uadi ; and on the
commencement of their revolt he was compelled to join

136

ALETHES, OR

their army, or loose his own life with those of his wife
and children. And that to-day, knowing his countrymen
were suffering, and that greater miseries yet awaited
them which he might possibly prevent, he had fled from
their enemies. He furthermore communicated that the
chief of the Cluadi had deferred an engagement with the
Romans while in the other valley, from an expectation
of receiving additional forces ; and it was his design by
a superior number, to destroy wholly the Roman army,
to march into Italy and surprise the capital. He had
received intelligence during this day, that on the follow-
ing morning they would be joined by a reinforcement,
amounting to a hundred and fifty thousand, composed of
the Catti and Alemanni; and he was only keeping
back his army for their arrival. The emperor was fur-
thermore informed, that beyond the mountains to the
north, to the distance of seven or eight miles, was the
eastern source of the Viadrus, (now the Oder) where the
Cluadi received their supply of water, and where it could
constantly be obtained. But to procure water under their
present circumstances, being nearly sunset, and having
to pass a ground which the enemy occupied, was an im-
possible task.

Nothing Avas now left them, but to defend themselves
more strongly by their intrenchments, and prepare their
engines for their powerfiil operations. These being
done, Aurelius commanded a sacrifice to be made to Jupi-
ter, in behalf of his suffering army. The greatest which
could be offered in their present situation, was spread be-
fore the guardian of the empire ; and the worshippers

THE ROMAN EXILE.

137

im-

tpers

Waited long and anxiously for the object of their suppli-
eation. The shadows of night gathered over the odjar
cent mountains, and the Romans were left to observe the
omens of the heavens, and to ;otect themselves from
their enemies.

Morning at length dawned in the east, and no rain had
yet fallen to refresh the earth, and animate the dying Ro-
mans. About sunrise the barbarians began to move, and
were marshalling for battle. Their united acclamations
and the blasts of their trumpets announced the arrival of
the expected forces of their allied powers; and two im«
mense lines were soon drawn up, at the foot of each
chain of mountains, with the Roman army between.
But the line on the east, although strengthened by the
forces just arrived, had the disadvantage of a considerablo
inclination of the bed of the valley for several miles.
This, with the other advantages they possessed, the Ro-
man generals did not fail to contemplate. Their own
position, having the enemy on each side, was also in
their favour. For, although the barbarians were twice
as numerous as their own army, were the legions sup-
plied with water and provisions, they might be confident
of a complete victory. — The discipline of the soldiers,
their own superior individual strength, the adroitness
with which they moved and used their arms, warranted
this presumption.

But their troops were emaciated with hunger and
thirst; and disaffection and mutiny were already manifest
among them. Aurelius, being about to address his
army, viras accosted by one of his inferior commanders,

■■■/•

138

ALETHES, OR

nn Egyptian, who assured him that the gods of Egypt
had never refused to answer the prayers of those >vho
were in distress. He was permitted to present such of
ferings to them as he pleased. After doing so, he sup*
plicated most fervently the goddess Isis, who is said to
have presided over rain and fountains ; and having ex-
hausted himself in her devotion, he retired to wait the
issue. • ■^''■'''-':'''f> * ■'^■!' '--.''i ' f -yi^i '•*<^iJ^..-^}i0^^

\ At the same time, the chief of the duadi appeared to
be holding a conference with his commanders. This
probably ivas the case, as he delayed an attack upon the
Romans till the afternoon, after having arranged his men
in a position for battle. «»;**«- i)t?^w«M,M4

In the meantime, no indication of rain appeared in the
heavens. The situation of the troops of Aurelius was
now hopeless ; and although the emperor seemed to con-
template it with the true feeling of a stoic philosopher,
yet his spirit agonized within. Riding to the head of his
army, he dismounted; and looking up to heaven, ex-
claimed, " by this hand which has taken no life away, I
desire to appease and supplicate thee, thou giver of all
life !"

The Roman? anticipated and waited for rain as on the
preceeding occasions; and nothing farther of importance
transpired until noon, wh^n Servius Valerius intimated
to the emperor, that as the christians worshipped a god
altogether different from theirs, they might be permitted
to invoke him for assistance. To this he readily con-
sented; and Servius Valerius informed Alethes of the em-
peror's wish, who immediately led out his cohort from

THE HOMAN EXILE.

139

the ranks. The christian soldiers kneeled down in the
presence of Aurelius, with Alethes at their head. Fer*
vently, y^ not indistinctly, they called upon the God
whom they worshipped, the Almighty Ruler of the uni-
verse, for the sake of his son Jesus Christ, to hear and
grant their prayers. Then they prayed for Aurelius
himself— for the welfare of the wnpire— for the prosperity
of Christianity ; and finally, for an immediate display of
infinite goodness in the preservation of the army by or-
dering the heavens to pour out their rains upon the earth,
and by putting their raemies to flight. Before they
arose from their knees, a dreadful hurricane passed
through the valley from the south, overturning the few
trees scattered up and down the place, and rending in a
thousand pieces several tents that remained spread above
the sick. The sound of distant thunder immediately sue*
ceeded, and the wind continued to blow severely from the

south. «-i»*«: vxw^-f^ ,;■:*•,( -.1; a «-■«.■* =f J :

Alethes now arose to his feet, and looking the emperor
in the face, exclaimed with a countenance radiant with
joy, " et Deus audivit et resp(yrodit /"• and having desired
that the army might hope for rain, he directed the chris-
tian soldiers to resume their places in the ranks.

The thunder continued, and its roaring became every
moment more audible. The whole heavens were gra-
dually overspreading with dark and portentious clouds,
and assuming a frightful aspect. Of a sudden, the light-
ning shot fearfully along the valley and across the skies.

* Translation : God has both heard and answered.

140

ALETHBS, OR

Again the thunder pealed upon the ear, but with re^
doubled violence. — ^But the revolted nations are sounding
for battle ! On the east, one vast and solid colunm are
marching towards the Romans, and the two lines are
rapidly approaching their wemy. The shouts of mil-
lions again rend the air. — But the heavens have unlock-
ed their repositories, and the dark clouds begin to drop
down their burthens upon the arid earth. The Romans
shout for joy, and catch the falling rain in iheir heknets

and hollow shields. ";■': to^v-j :;«:•' /-.' (■^fw-ts^w^^^^i.mm^mi

Hark! the sound of clashing arms is on the air. —
Enemies have met, and the blood of the wounded mingle
with the rain of heaven. Millions of hostile arrows are
darting forward. Innumerable swords and spears are
drawn, and reflect the flashes of the fearful lightning.
The praetorian guards and the cohorts who bear the
oagles, have borne down, and routed the enemy at the
head of the army on the west, and the emperor retires to
give orders, and contemplate the scene of the conflicting
armies.

But behold! aw^ lightnings glare around! The
thunders break on the neighbouring mountains like the
crash of worlds convulsed from their inmost centreSj and
the ground trembles breath as though an earthquake
were rending the globe. The barbarians stand motion-
less, awed at so wonderful a scene. — But hark ! a dread-
ful tempest is sweeping over the earth, bearing before it
whatever obstructs its path. On either side of the moun-
tains, as &r as the eye can penetrate, every tree is over-'
turned by its tremendous power. — Again the lightning

>' • ■ I

THE ROMAN EXILE.

141

illuminates the livid clouds, and the darkness of the earth.
Now a torrent of rain bursts upon the Roman army,
while a storm of hail overwhelms their enemies. — Rais*
ing a tumultuous shout, and crying that the gods are
fighting against them, the barbarians flee, with the ut-
most terror and dismay. The Romans pursue them. —
The hope of victory maddens them with deUght. — The
dead, the dying, and the. wounded^ cover the ground over
which they have passed. — ^But thousands of their ene*
mies are throwing away their arms — are casting them*
selves at the feet of their conquering foes.— They sup-
plicate their mercy, and entreat their intercession with
the gods of heaven. — The wind and the hail have ceased.
The thunder and the lighming have passed away, but
the rain contipues to deluge the earth. i*3c,,i * t^i, at, ^^Bi^piF;
'The Romans victorious are now withdrawing from
the field of carnage, leading in triumph the chief of the
Qtuadi, many of his generals, and several thousands of
his warriors. The darkness of night again shrouds the
earth, afibrding to the wearied Romans a period of grate-
ful repose.

Among those taken captive, was one formerly aiRo*
man soldier of considerable note ; but being expelled
from Rome like Cariolanus, in imitation of that general,
joined himself to a people, whom he supposed hostile to
his country. Hearing that the Cluadi were in a state of
disaffection towards the Roman government, he imme-
diately visited their territory ; and arrived there about four
months antecedent to the period of the present battle with
that nation. Here he discovered an ample prospect for

142

ALETHES, OR

tevenfpAg himself on those, who had deprived him of his
liberty. He made himself known to the chief of the
country; and by his influence with that personage, suc-
ceeded, in a few months, in prevailing upon him to take
up arms against Italy. He was the most prominent in
plans of arrangemoat for the army; the foremost in dif-
ficulties ; the most unwearied in toils and marches. And
when the duadi ascertained that Aurelius was in the
neighbourhood of the Danube with a powerful army, he
prevailed upon the chief to retire to the mountains and
reinforce his numbers. Upon thii^ movement, he went
into the country occupied by the Catti and the Alemanni;
and from these nations, he raised an army of a hundred
and fifty thousand men, who arrived among the moun-
tains on the morning of the engagement with the Ro^
mans. On the defeat of the duadi he was taken captive
after an unsuccessful attempt to deprive himself of his
life. On the morning following, he was led out for exe-
cution, according to the command of Aurelius, who
thought it unnecessary to crown a triumph with so per-
fidious a wretch. This was a scene of much interest,
and every Roman was eager to be a spectator of it. An
elevation was made within the encampments, about ten
feet high, sufficiently large to admit three or four per-
sons standing in an erect posture. The criminal was
led up to it in chains ; and after being bound in a position
suitable to be beheaded, one of the generals was ordered
to perform the execution. — To take the life of a Roman
so distinguished in a war with his own country, was not
deemed dishonourable, if performed even by the most

THE ROMAN EXILE.

143

digni/iecl citizen of the oonmionweakh. This duty was
given to Servius Valerius, as the most suitable person to
perform it. It was in accordance to his own wish ; for,
although not gratified that such^ftn opportunity had oo>
curred, he yet was happy in executing the deed. — As
he was about to ascend the scaffold, Alethes stepped up
and presented the sword taken from Corrinnius at Rome,
as the most suitable instrument for the execution of such
an individual as was about to suffer death. This Ser-
vius accepted with complacency. He then ascended the
elevation ; and with a blow possessing all the energies of
his nature, he severed the head from the body, which
was soon taken down ; and after being mangled by the
soldiers, it was carried to a distance from the camp and
abandoned to be devoured by the wild animals of the
forest. His head was then placed, hy request of Servius,
upon a spear and borne throughout the camp for the
gratification of the army.* — Reader, this is the end of
Clodius Corrinnius I

, /i; -

}• ife - 'j«!.. ■,

CHAPTER X. '.;U'^/ M/y,^MUi

■. ,..»<■

ifiUA'Xi:. £::'ri^sifC-

f <Aurelius, after recruiting his army, marched through-
out the province which the Cluadi inhabited, and also
through several others of Germany, until he finally sub-

" ■ (^

*The head and right hand of Cicero, by command of Mark An-
tony, were severed from hia body and fixed upon the tribunal,
wherQ the orator had often lectured the citizens of Rome,

144

ALETHES, OR

dued the enemy, and overcuafi ftU opposition to hii go*
▼emment.

Immediately afler the proceeding engagement with the
duadi, he sent an emh^sy to Rome, bearing the newv
of bis victory, and other important documents for the
Senate. From a letter which Aurelius wrote to the
>Senate at this time, the following is an extract: — " I also
present you an account of the great difficulties which
happened to me while in Germany — how I was sur-
rounded and beseiged in the midst of it, and afflicted with
heat and weariness.

^fyv

iii'^i V'JiVi .;• i!^ ,:». Hl^<i..; fv.^■;f|e^tJfjl•■.
" When seventy-four regiments of the enemy had ap-
proached us, I readily perceived that our own army was
fax inferior in multitude to this company of barbarians.
I then addressed our gods in prayer ; but being disre*
garded by them, and considering our great calamities, I
ordered the christians to come forward and make suppli*
cations to their Gk>d. As soon as they had prostrated
themselves to the earth, they prayed not only for me, but
also for my whole army, and for present relief from our
distressed situation. — It was now the fifth day since we
had obtained water, there being none in the place, for we
were in the midst of Germany, surrounded by the moun-
tains.

** But soon afler the christians had prayed to a god, who
was unknown to me, rain descended from the heavens. —
And after their prayers we found God to be present with
us, as one who is impregnable and invincible. — It is my
desire, therefore, that no person, who is a christian, shall
be either questioned or accused for any other reason than

THE ROMAN EXILE.

145

I '

being a christian. Let not the governor of any province
of my empire, hereafter, compel him to renounce his re<
ligion, or deprive him of his privileges as a Roman.—- It
is my will that this declaration be ratified by a decree of
the Senate."

The christian soldiers, who were thus instrumental in
preserving the army of Aurolius, and perhaps the liber-
ties of Rome herself, were ordered by the emperor, after
their return to Italy, to wear shields with a thunderbolt
en graven on each, in commemoration of the storm, which
put to flight the armies of the Q,uadi. The company of
soldiers were distinguished always after by the appella-
tion of the " thundering cohort." — The transactions of
this memorable battle, and other events of importance
connected with this war in Germany^ are sculptured on
the pillar of Antoninus, alluded lo before.

Towards autumn Aurelius rt- turned with a part of his
army to Rome. About twenty-five or thirty legions he
located in different parts of Germany for the future pre-
eervation of peace.

The day after his arrival he ordered to be celebrated
with the utmost pomp and thanksgiving. Early in the
morning every altar was prepared to receive the bleeding
sacrifice ; every shop was closed ; every kind of manual
labour was suspended ; and every street was thronged
with persons, whose hearts eagerly participated in tha
i^lendour of the day. — The triumphal procession at length
iH^gan, which was to confer the highest honour upon the
military character of Rome, seldom or never omitted after
an absohite conquest of the enemy.

« I

146

ALETHES, OR

The bands of musicians, belonging to the several
legions were assembled together, and were the first com-
pany that distinguished the procession. — Songs appro-
priate to the occasion, were both sung and played by
them. After these were led the oxen for sacrifice, with
their horns burnished with gold, their heads decorated
with garlands and flowers, and their bodies covered with
a pure white cloth ; and were attended by those who of-
ficiated at the sacrifices. Next, conveyed in carriages,
were the arms and spoils of the vanquished ; and borne
aloft upon the shoulders of men, were the gold and sil-
ver, and the gorgeous presents sent by tributary nations.
Next followed a company bearing frames, which sup-
ported large pictures representing the recent battles, and
the conquered country with its principal towns. After
these, the chief of the Cluadi and his generals, accom-
panied with their ftimilies and the captive soldiers, fol-
lowed bound in chains ; and were succeeded by the lie-
tors, whose duty was to conduct the vanquished. Their
faces were wreathed with laurel, and they bore in their
hands a rod, and an instrument resembling a battle-axe,
but of lesser dimensions. This train was succeeded by
a company of singers, about a hundred in number, splen-
didly dressed, wearing crowns of gold, and constantly
singing the praises of the Roman army, or satirical
songs against the vanquished. Then came a train of
persons, bearing vessels containing incense and costly
perfumes. After these, the enperor and his generals
rode in splendid state.

The chariot of Aurelius was of a rotund figure, sup-

THfi ROMAN £XILE.

147

by
en-

pOTted upon a single pair of wheels of massive silver. —
On the external side were painted imaginary battles, in
which were visible the eagles reared aloft, and the Roman
armies bearing down their enemies. The top of the cha-
riot was adorned with gold lace, that reflected the rays
of the sun, and waved in graceful folds with the motion
of the car. The emperor was seated upon a throne of
ivory, paved with gold and precious gems. In his left
hand he held a laurel sprig, and in his right a sceptre of
gold, surmounted with an eagle of the same metal. The
entrance to the chariot was behind the throne ; and after
the door was shut, an image of victory in an inclined
posture, was presented with a laurel crown in the hand,
in the act of placing it upon the head of the conqueror.
The dress of Aurelius corresponded with the splendour
of the occasion. A gorgeous purple robe, embroidered
with gold lace, descended to his feet. Around his waist
was a dazzling girdle, fastened before by a clasp set with
diamonds. Attached to this was a chain of gold which
guarded his sword, the hilt and sheatk of which were
wrought of the same material. About his neck, hung a
chain of braided fibres of gold, supporting a hollow
globe. In this was deposited a magical amulet, preser-
vative against the envious deities. On the globe without
were engraved these two words : " Roma vicii."* To
complete the splendour of Aurelius, his chariot was
dravm by six beautiful Arabian steeds of the purest
white, which were decorated with tassels of gold about

jup-

* Translation: Rome has conquered.

148

ALETHES, OR

their heads; and embroidered garments were thrown ov^
them, listened to the harness on the back, and trailing in
careless folds to their feet The reins were composed of
fine silver chords, woven together. ; . . ,; ,

The chariot of Aurelius was followed by that of Ser-
vius Valerius, drawn by four steeds of the same appear-
ance. He was clad with splendid robes, and wore a
crown of laurel upon his head, and a sprig of the same
in his hand. Upon his left hand Alethes was seated.
After Servius Valerius, came the other generals similar-
ly dressed, and drawn by steeds decorated in the same
manner. Immediately after the generals, came the con-
suls and senators on foot, and were followed hy the mili-
tary tribunes on horseback. The remaining part of the
procession was made up of citizens, each dressed with a
spacious garment of white, called synthesis.

The triumphal procession began at the plain of the
Campus Martins, about half a mile north of the Pan-
theon ; and proceeding south through the Street of
Triumph by the Circus Flaminius, it passed through the
Porta Triumphalis at the south of the Capitoline Hill,
thence by the Forum Boarium, by the Circus Maximus,
then north to the Coliseum and the eastern foot of the £s-
quiline Hill, thence through the northern streets and
along the Via Flaminia, entering the Via Sacra, and pas-
sing under the Arch of Titus to the Forum of the Sena-
tors. After listening to an appropriate oration, the pro-
cession turned to proceed to the Capitol. The captive
chief and his generals were not allowed to be conducted
farther, but were ordered to prison to await their sentence.

of
the
liU,

lUS,

lEs-

and

jpas-

lena-

Ipro-
Mive
Icted
ice.

THE ROMAN EXILE.

149

The vast concourse now proceeded to the Capitol
where the emperor dismounted; and entering the temple
of Jupiter, he deposited a crown of gold in the lap of the
god ; and after offering up a devout prayer for his protec-
tion of the empire, he ordered the priests to prepare the
sacrifices. Tiiis being done, a splendid feast was given
by Aurelius to the generals and his army, and also to
the most distinguished of the nobility ; and the day and
night passed away with feasting and joy.

It now re to say, that one week after the day of
the triumpha. ^..^cession, Alethes and Acillia were unit-
ed in marriage, by the consent of her parents, and by the
•acquiescence of Aurelius, who was consulted in the im-
portant matter of the marriage of his neice to a christian
nobleman.

The palace of Servius Valerius was gorgeously deco-
rated for the occasion. The spacious drawingroom in
the uppermost story of the palace, overlooking the Tiber
and a view of the city ; and to the south, a prospect of
several valleys and vineyards, was the scene of enter-
tainment and splendour. It was sixty feet in length,
thirty wide, and twenty-five in height. Upon one wall
to the right as the guest entered, was painted the history
of the founding of Rome, as described in the ^niad of
Virgil. Upon the opposite wall was represented the bat-
tle between the Greeks and Trojans before the walls of
Troy. At one end, in the centre of which the door
opened, were seated in niches excavated in the walls, the
principal deities of the empire, sculptured out of the most
beautiful white marble. Directly over the door Apollo

150

ALETHES, OR

was seated in the attitude of playing upon his lyre, while
his bow and quiver were reposing at his feet.

At the opposite end near the wall, stood spveral tables
wrought of ebony, extending to a distance of about twenty
feet. Upon these reposed harps and various musical in-
struments of exquisite workmanship. Over the tables
was a spacious mirror, that arose above them to the lofty
ceiling, and occupied the width of the room. When the
evening approached, silver lamps wrought into the
figures of pnimals and birds, and ornamented with pre-
cious stones, were suspended from the ceiling ; and their
dazzling light threw a brilliancy on every object, repre-
senting the scene of an angel-palace. The guests were
seated upon couches, which corresponded in magnificence
to the surrounding objects.

> The marriage ceremony was already performed; and
the bridegroom and bride were seated near the tables
with their faces towards the door. Upon the right hand
were seated the parents of Acillia ; and on the left, those
of her nearest connexions. Couches were arranged in
tiers throughout the room ; and the guests were com-
posed of the particular friends of Servius Valer' s at
Rome ; and the generals who had served with him m the
recent campaign of Germany.

After supper, which was served upon narrow tables
extending in rows through the room, find which, though
the enormous sum that Caligula and others expended on
similar occasions was not approprijiced for it, was not-
withstanding very costly, — a company of musicians ap-
peared ; and the assembly was entertained during the re-

THE ROMAN EXILE.

151

mainder of the evening by the choicest productions of the
Latin bards.

As soon after his marriage as that occasion would per-
mit, Alethes directed his attention to the happiness of the
christians at Rome, and other towns of Italy. At the
death of Servius Valerius^ Acillia being his only child,
his fortune would go to the possession of Alethes. This
consideration, with an humble dependance he placed in,
the goodness of God, induced him to expend his fortune
received by his father, for the advancement of Christianity. .
He erected several places of worship at Rome, and
others wherever the increase of the disciples of Christ
required. He constantly and devotedly gave his atten-
tion to the sick and the poor ; and none who needed his
bounty, remained neglected and destitute.
' Acillia as well as himself became interested for the
prosperity of Christianity ; and founded a society for the
support of poor widows, and endowed it with a sum of
several thousand pounds ; — and after triumphing over
many dangers and persecutions which assailed Chris-
tianity after the death of Aurelius, which transpired six
years subsequent to thij period. Alethes and Acillia re-
tired from Rome and passed their lives in a distant coun-
try, in the enjoyment of their wealth, and in the diffusion
of the blessings which the glorious religion of Christ
presents.

.<: -*.■-:

'W'.; ;w?M;^?*.i( ''H ..

« « ■'( •';• II;

f i^i^' >

.IS-'.;

i I

.■•!*:^fc.J';i ^u

I-

<...->J

•,vi ■* ■;>/. > , rt- «'!. ,^ *4'- ••

■V-

snaoB ros ^^Zh b. Zi."

IT THII AUTHOR 01*

-UUSCBB H0UB8," "ALITUBS," XTC.

Miss Lbj itia Euzabeth Lakdok, the anthoress of many popu^
lax volumes, both prose and poetry, was a writer for several years
above the signature of *' L. E. L." In the summer of 1838, she mar-
ried Mr. M'Leai7, Governor of the Cape Coast Colony ; and died at
that place about three months after her arrival, upon the 15th of
October.

She is buried in the Court Yard of the Castle, near the sea, whose
ever-dashing waves send forth a ^lild, yet plaintive moaning, as if
re-echoing and perpetuating the mournful notes of her silent harp.
Miss Landon was the most admired female writer of her time ; at
least, she was not less admired and beloved than Mrs. Hemans her-
self. — The following poem was written imme^ately after hearing of
her death. l

♦'The harp is silent, and the spirit gone,
And half of heaven seems vanished from the air."

Pilgrims qf the Rhine.

Touch, lightly touch the Harp! > "; - i' ' ^

For life has lost a portion of its gladness ! • •■''.'■')

Yes, one whose melody was love's deep feeling, ■ - :" " -
Has passed away, and we are wed to sadness. '-.•■'.*; '• i

Quick tears of sorrow to my eyes are stealing r ■' ■

My heart is full of weeping, and sincere, ' '

For one^ we dearly loved, has passed from life's bright sphere.

Yes, lightly touch the harp,
Oh! let its deeper tones the soul awaken

And stir it to that grief that knows no ending ;
A holy sorrow for the loved one taken f

Prom truest hearts that are with sorrow rending,
Befits the mourner for her of the lyre : "

For yet our hearts are warm with her soft words of fire.

^■■^<'".

154

DIRGE FOR

lii Et Lii

Hers was no earthly spirit ! ,/.,:.
For round roe is a spell of heaven-born heauty,

Caught from some fairy landscape in her dreaming.
And tales of love, with gentle, moral duty —

A word unspoken — which has caused the streaming
Of the last life-drop of a fondest heart ;—
And should we not lament when such meek ones I opart 1

Hers Were the heart and song— ., , ,.

The starry sentinels of heaven's dominion,

Their spirit beauty, and long years of glowing,
And earth's bright visions borne on Time's swift pinion

To some angelic region — these were flowing «<.i. \ ,'
In songs of ftury language from her lyre,
' And filled us with high hopes, and being's fond desire I

vVJ-^

-■•' 9.1 •

They're tones that cannot die !
For in my memory ring those thrilling numbers,

That came as from some angel's lyre or singing,
When man is mute in midnight's deeper slumbers.

Yes, in my memory still those tones are ringing,
Tones of the lyre, alas ! for ever hushed —
A melody that from the soul, pure as an angel's gushed.

They're tones that cannot die,
Of early infancy and happy childhood.

To hopes, like cloudless stars, all brilliant rising.
Painting life's scenes as bright as nature's wildwood ;

Of manhood, and old age the world despising,
And nature's scenes, and golden-palaced dreams.
And mtgiy a magic tale of fairy dells and streams.

But it is ever thus !
For thus do young hopes pass with all thciir splendour.

Still eager yet to cheer one heart of sorrow,
And hovering near it like a spirit tender,

They're forced to leave it to a lone to-morrow ; ,
And thus our Sappho of Old England's bowers.
Seemed but to stay to gladden life's lone and dark hours.

•/<•*■■

'1^

DIRGE FOR

L« Ej> L(

155

1" ,*;

■ V_ I

And it ia ever thus I—
For 80 wild Genius like an eaglo speeded,

And roaming o'er the world in radiant pluming,
Seeks for its lower kindred, thoughts high and unheeded,

And regions unexplored, forever blooming ;
But little shares the glory of the gain.
And leaves its mortal home for heaven's own bright domain.

But who shall tune the Harp I
Oh ! who its thrilling tones again shall waken,

That Harp of purest song and rupture breathing !
'Tis silent now all lonely and forsaken,

And Ues, perchance where mourning flowers are wreathing.
Where is the hand that tuned it 1 — Still and cold,
Or iii^a better world, it tunes a harp of gold.

« Yes, who shall tune the Harp, - •''S
As it was tuned ere life's frail Unk was broken 7 —

I hear no accent, but the wind's low sighing,
As though to tell her loss had Nature spoken — i

Peace to the youthful dead ! Her name undying
Shall live within our hearts. — Joy for the spirit.
That shall a bright and glorious Vi^orld for aye inherit {

<«;.««:

< «

Fage 8,

» 12,

» B2,

I. 93,

n 99,

,,104,
,."4,
^115,

for "Smynia," read Smyrnti.

"Tarquinia," read Tarquina, .
"Trojan," read Trajan.
"Patstanus" in the note, road Palatinua.
"genitum," third line, read j'en/tum.
"out over," 19th line, read cut ovtr. ,
" Galignlas," read Caligula.
"whether," read xthitker, 14th line,
"was," read were, first line.

iMMt muht, hmm Mmm tvMt*. ihwt Mh* H. >.

w«5C%*' ■" 4*'M