Eckstein’s greatest novel of Roman life was Nero (1889). It was impossible for him to surpass the portrayal of the general life of Rome, which he had already made in his earlier novels; but in dealing with life in the time of Nero, he found the greatest opportunity to display his talents. In his faithfulness to the life and history of the time he prepared the way for the two other authors who have written great novels dealing with Nero’s time,—Canon Farrar in Darkness and Dawn (1892), and H. Sienkiewicz in Quo Vadis (1895). He was also closely followed by Hugh Westbury in Acte (1890), and by two writers of books for boys, the Rev. A. J. Church in The Burning of Rome (1892), and G. A. Henty in Beric, the Briton (1892). Eckstein’s keenness in portraying the court intrigues of Agrippina, Seneca, and Tigellinus, shows his understanding of human nature. But his greatest triumph is in the analysis of the character of Nero. The early boyhood of Nero, and his ingenuous love for Acte, who is kidnapped and kept hidden by the agents of Agrippina, are revealed with genuine sympathy. And Nero’s later development is traced step by step, with a fairness that makes him appear the victim not only of his own weakness, but of circumstance. In his revelation of character, as shown in his handling of the character of Nero or of Spartacus, Eckstein surpasses even the notable work of George Ebers.
REVIEW OF THE INFLUENCE OF GERMAN SCHOLARS AND AUTHORS
It is not intended to overemphasize the importance of the influence of German scholars and authors upon the English novel of Roman life. The influence of work such as that of Becker upon the English novel of Roman life may be described as follows: (1) It stimulated many English scholars to study the life of ancient Rome with a similar insistence upon accuracy in regard to the most minute details of history and archæology; in one or two instances an attempted imitation of work like Becker’s is seen in the work of pedantic authors of the novel of Roman life. (2) It served as one of the influences, which led popular writers of the novel of Roman life to realize the need for at least some accurate study of the history and life of Rome. The influence of German novelists such as Ebers and Eckstein, upon the English novel of Roman life, is seen in the more thorough scholarship which such English novels display,—especially after the publication of Eckstein’s Nero, which is the first of a series of important novels portraying life in Nero’s time. This series, as has been said, includes not only Farrar’s great novel, Darkness and Dawn, and other English fictions, but also the fine work of the Polish author, Sienkiewicz, in Quo Vadis (1895). In speaking of the thoroughness of German scholars, it might be said that in some instances German novelists such as Ebers, seem occasionally to have made the mistake of assuming that a mass of particulars heaped together can be shaped into the aspect of a general truth. In pursuing the details of a picture of Roman life, they have lost sight of its larger lines sometimes; but, on the whole, very rarely. We must not forget that there were English scholars, who played their part in impressing upon historical novelists the necessity for accuracy. But the German authors of novels of Roman life, produced so many good novels of this kind in so short a time, that their influence is seen in the work of English novelists, both in regard to the subjects which English writers have chosen, and in the methods of presenting such subjects taken from Roman life.
D. TWO PEDANTIC NOVELS OF ROMAN LIFE
Few novelists have made the mistake of attempting to include in a novel such work as appears in Becker’s Gallus. But in one or two instances, novelists have tried to crowd their pages with antiquarian knowledge, putting into their narratives matters which Becker would have placed in his Excursus. This pedantic display of knowledge is in itself a defect, and we shall consider separately two novelists who proved to be guilty of it. Miles Gerald Keon, British Colonial Secretary to Bermuda, wrote, in 1866, a novel called Dion and the Sibyls. This was published in London. In spite of its pedanticism, it contains some interesting similarities to the much greater work of General Lew Wallace in Ben Hur (1880). Like Ben Hur it deals with the time of Christ, and a further similarity is seen in the fact that the author does not make the mistake of portraying Christ as one of the central figures, and does not lay much of the scene in Jerusalem. Keon’s hero, Dion, also, like Ben Hur, is not too closely identified with Christianity, though he is invited to expound its doctrines before the Emperor. Scenes in Judea in Dion and the Sibyls include the banquet at which John the Baptist is beheaded, and a pedantic display of knowledge is made in repeating things told of Herod Agrippa, Herodias, Berenice, and the high priest Caiphas. This display of pedantic knowledge is further seen in the part of the narrative which tells of Dion’s meeting with Dionysius the Areopagite, who becomes St. Denis, and brings Christianity to Gaul. But most of the scene of Keon’s novel is laid in Rome, and in this part of the story the characters of Tiberius, his brutal eunuch Lygdus, and the wily Sejanus, are portrayed in such a way as to show the author’s indefatigable search for details. The only really good scene in the novel is that in which the young Paulus, of the Æmelian family, subdues the famous “Sejan horse” in the amphitheatre. The story of this vicious horse became a tradition, so that Mr. E. L. White would have done well to give the name “Sejanus” to a similar animal in Andivius Hedulio (1921), a novel of the time of Commodus; (instead he turns the name into Selinus). In Keon’s novel Paulus was directed how to overcome the horse by the sibyl of Cumæ, and as the title suggests, the magic spells of such witches appear prominently in the story; the use of a “love-philtre” suggests The Last Days of Pompeii (1834). The mention of a famous acrostic, whose initial letters spell the Greek word for fish, remind one of the use made of this symbol of the early Christians, which appears in later novels of Roman life, notably in Darkness and Dawn (1892), and Quo Vadis. But Dion and the Sibyls is mentioned at this point as an example of pedanticism in the novel of Roman life.
Another example of pedanticism in the novel of Roman life is seen in The Money God; or The Empire and the Papacy (1873). It is needless to mention the various matters of detail which the author, M. A. Quinton, mentions in order to display his pedantic knowledge; but it is sufficient to say that he is very learned indeed, and has read extensively in the works of the Latin authors.[27] In some instances he is very inaccurate in the deductions which he makes from his reading, and there are some notable mistakes in topography. The one redeeming feature of the novel is its remarkable handling of a chariot-race scene; the details of this scene are so similar to the details of a scene in Ben Hur (1880), that it seems possible that Lew Wallace may have known of Quinton’s work. While the scene of the Money God is partly laid in Rome, it does not portray Roman life, but rather presents certain details of Roman life in an arbitrary manner, and in confused order. A Roman marriage ceremony is described, and the methods of Roman money-lenders are explained in this arbitrary way. Quinton also wrote Aurelia: or the Jews of Capena Gate, a few years before The Money God, but I have been unable to obtain this book. In Dion and the Sibyls, and in The Money God we have two very pedantic novels, which, nevertheless, mention some of the things which are mentioned in Ben Hur. But before considering Ben Hur itself, let us retrace our steps to the year 1843, and from that time follow the course of the popular melodramatic novel of Roman life. This kind of novel represents the class in which Ben Hur more properly belongs.
E. NOVELS WRITTEN BY SO-CALLED “POPULAR” NOVELISTS, WHO RELY ON THE MELODRAMATIC FOR THEIR APPEAL; THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE “POPULAR” NOVEL OF ROMAN LIFE FROM 1843 TO THE PRESENT DAY
As has been said, the growing insistence upon thoroughness of scholarship, which is seen in the work of both German and English scholars, resulted not only in a somewhat direct imitation of the methods which appear in Becker’s Gallus (1838), by a few pedantic novelists; but more especially in an attempted exhibition of scholarship by “popular” novelists, who wrote novels of Roman life after this date. These “popular” novelists were men who either turned out novels by the score, or produced a few novels of the made-to-order variety; who sought for material with the idea of obtaining “grist for the mill,” rather than of writing a masterpiece. Such novelists have in most cases relied for their appeal upon the use of melodramatic material; but even these “popular” novelists soon came to realize the necessity of sound scholarship to any author who intends to attempt a novel of Roman life. In the class of “popular” novelists, we shall also include those novelists whose principal desire seems to have been to tell a “rattling good story” or to present a series of gorgeous pictures from the life of the past,—though in some cases a more serious purpose seems to underlie work of this description. We shall begin our review of the “popular,” melodramatic novel of Roman life with the novel of Ellen Pickering, which appeared in 1843; but the “gorgeous romance,” which is a direct development of the “popular” novel, did not reach its height until considerably later. After 1843 all true novels of Roman life make at least some pretense of thorough scholarship.
Ellen Pickering, an American authoress, who turned out a score of “popular” novels, wrote as one of the last of them, Julia of Baiae; or the Days of Nero (1843). She clearly shows her realization both of the necessity for thorough scholarship in matters of history, and of her own shortcomings in such matters. This is plain from the diffidence of her preface to the novel, and from the fact that it was published anonymously. The story of the death of Burrus, and the appearance of Vespasian in the Praetorian guards, are matters introduced not in strictly historical order. But otherwise the book has no great faults. It is, however, not even intended as a great novel, and is only cited here in illustration of the fact that a reasonable display of scholarship was coming to be demanded even of popular novelists. Julia of Baiae appeared two years after the last of the Rev. Ware’s novels (Julian, 1841), and was dedicated to the Rev. Fred. J. Goodwin, M. A., Rector of St. George’s Church, Flushing, N. Y. Yet, while it contains a story of the martyrs, it is not to be considered a story of religious instruction, but as an attempt at a popular novel with a rather feeble essay at classical scholarship.