Valerius. A Roman Story

by J. G. Lockhart

To which the stoic replied in astonishment—“What is this you have said? Do you assert that action is sensual?”

Then Parmeno, lifting from the pavement the book which he had been reading, or appearing to read, said, “It is even so, most erudite Xerophrastes. Indeed, I have always delighted in the most primitive and remote doctrines handed down from antiquity; and among others, in the riddles of this obscure Ephesian. Following the scope of his philosophy, I am led to believe, that, so often as the mind impels, or is impelled by other causes, it begins to lose sight of pure knowledge, and becomes in danger of thinking that every thing is vain, light, and evanescent, except what is perceived by the senses. Heraclitus well says, that Love and Hatred govern all things. Now, when the principle of Discord prevails, it subjects all things to the dominion of action, and to the gross perceptions of sense. But when that of Love is prevalent, it emancipates the struggling chaos of things from the yearning of compulsion, and from the darkness of sensual proximity; for, between things that struggle immediately against each other, light has no room to enter in and shine; and therefore it is, that, when Love gains the ascendency, a new arrangement is produced—an arrangement which, if I [pg 183]may so express it, is more serene, transparent, orderly and divine, and wherein things exist in safety from the danger of mutual destruction.”

After a preliminary cough:—“My opinion,” replied Xerophrastes, “coincides rather with that of Empedocles. The immortal Sicilian thinks that Discord is the only separating and arranging principle which marks the boundaries between things, and enables them mutually to act and repel, in such a way as to preserve order.”—“Nay, nay,” interrupted Parmeno, his hands being by this quite disentangled from his cloak, and his countenance lighted up,—“Nay, nay, to such doctrine I never shall assent. From Empedocles—even from Xerophrastes, I must differ for ever on this head. The order of which you and the Sicilian speak, is the order of darkness only, and of blind force,—a kind of order in which fierceness and cruelty always reign.” But Xerophrastes continued:—“And I farther concur with Empedocles in thinking, that Love is a principle of which the predominance is more fit to turn order into a chaos, than to produce the effects you have described.”—“Nay, speak not against Love,” quoth Parmeno—“Speak not against Love, nor believe that any respect is due to the dictates of Empedocles, who taught the worst that can be taught by any man—that is to say, the alternation of order and confusion succeeding each other throughout all time. To seek for truth in conceptions like these, is no better than to seek repose in the bosom of Ætna.”—“In reference to that point,” resumed Xerophrastes, “I agree with you in your disapprobation of Empedocles. But when you say, that Love is the source of knowledge, you [pg 184]much astonish me; for I have always thought rather that its tendency is to bring confusion upon the mind.”

“Once more,” said Parmeno—“once more, let me beseech you to say nothing against love. You are thinking of the love of particular objects. You speak of Cupid, and not of that heavenly Eros, who, so far from enchaining, or tyrannizing over the mind, rather enables it to escape into the tranquil freedom of far extended contemplation. But what is contemplation without the knowledge of permanent forms, on which the mind may find repose, and so keep itself from being perplexed by the shifting aspects of the many-coloured universe? And therefore it is, O Xerophrastes, that, sometimes laying aside Heraclitus, I study the ancient verses of the poet, Xenophanes, who shews, by the nature of abstract forms, that a certain unity pervades all things. Xenophanes mused of old at Colophon, looking through the blue ether of my native Ionia.—But why should I speak thus at length? Alas! what is the occasion of our being here!—I perceive the approach of the poet, who was to compose an inscription for the urn of my dear Fabricius. Yonder also is the architect, who comes with a design for the tomb. Oh! day of wo, that I should sit in judgment concerning the epitaph and tomb of my ingenuous youth!”

“It is, indeed, true,” replied Xerophrastes, “that even I, in the repercussions of our talk, had well-nigh forgotten this unhappy occurrence; but, perhaps, there is something not after all entirely excusable in our giving so much superiority to the affairs of philosophical discussion. Now, however, it is evident, that we must suspend our colloquy—And who, I beseech you, above [pg 185]all things, is he that now draws near to the place of this mournful assembly, holding a horse in his hand. Methinks I have seen his face before.”

“That you have indeed, Master,” quoth he that had come up,—“that you have; and no longer ago than yesterday neither, if you will be pleased to give yourself the trouble of recollecting. My name is Aspar—I am well known. If but my excellent friend, the noble Centurion Sabinus, were here, poor old Aspar would have no reason to complain of the want of a good word.”

“Good morrow to you, Aspar,” said Sextus; “but what is it that brings you hither just at this moment? And for what purpose have you brought your horse with you? for people of your sort do not in general ride in the courts of the Palatine.”

“Alas!” quoth Aspar, “and is it you, who seem to have been one of the contemporaries of that peerless youth—is it you that ask such a question as this? I did not, in truth, imagine that there was any friend of young Fabricius, who did not know his affection for little Sora. There is not such another within twenty miles of the Capitol; but I brought her hither merely out of regard for the family. As for myself, I should never bear to look on her again with pleasure, after knowing the sudden manner of his death. I wish to Heaven the filly were fairly lodged in one of the paddocks of the Lord Fabricius himself.”

“Lead the animal round into the stables,” says Parmeno, “and I doubt not care will be taken of her.—Yonder comes one of the buffoons of the theatre;—he, I doubt not, is here to disgrace, if he be permitted, this solemn scene, with ranting quotations from the tragic [pg 186]poets. Alas! alas! I cannot bear all this: There also advance the officiators from the Temple of Libitina; they have their cypress boughs ready in their hands. Oh, my learned friend, I cannot sustain these things; let me be gone into the mansion.”

The admirer of Heraclitus, picking up his scroll, and gathering together the folds of his mantle, moved slowly into the house, Xerophrastes following with similar gestures. Sextus and I also were about to take our departure; and he, having procured from one of the slaves of the house a myrtle garland, had already placed it upon the bier of the young Fabricius, as the last testimonial of his concern; when there drew near two young men, clad in long mantles of black, who, solemnly embracing my friend, began to exchange with him many expressions of grief.